[center][h2][color=violet]Clan Metalbeard[/color][/h2]

[b]The Rekindled Ironbeards[/b][/center]

The tome, it said so much, giving knowledge to them that they would never had known and it told them of their ancestors. The great Ironbeards that they had defended from were the masters of metal, able to mold it with such a passion, just as the Clan did! It baffled Blackhand and Tankbeard when they had found out to have come from such an extensive line of smiths who made the finest of materials. Everything was so much to take in that the two hungry dwarves stared at each other for a few long mountains. 

“We should bring the to the Elder Council,” Marum suggested, tearing his eyes away from the book.

“I’d rather shave me beard than give those old blokes more of a reason to dispose of me,” The king stated, looking around to see if there were any others around, there weren’t any others. “Gather the people, I have news to tell them.”

“As you wish m’lord,” the advisor stated with a bow, before turning and leaving Blackhand with the tome. 

A mere hour later the populace had gathered in the courtyard of the old dwarven hold, as the King-Miner Blackhand stares down at the all. They conversed with one another after a few moments of silence from the King as the elders sat under him, awaiting for Blackhand to speak.

The King reached his hand out, a blackened hand that seemed to permanently bare soot from smithing work. The crowd went silent as the King began to speak with a booming voice, “My fellow dwarves, my clan mates, fellow Ironbeards! I have called ye all today because I have found an ancient tome, dating back to when the first clans were formed, one of those clans were our ancestors. It was the Ironbeards, shapers of metal, carers of those spirits that guide us through this dark time! We are masters of the smith and it is our duty to carry on the legacy of our forefathers, the same who have provided us with such a culture and the care of the metal spirits.”

“We must retake our birthright!,” The king slammed his blackened hand into the stone railing, “It is our duty to carry on, dying is not an option, the spirits have chosen us to carry on this flame! We will endure! We will carry on our passion!”

The people erupted into applause at the King’s rousing speech while the council conferred with one another, discussing how the people now are in support of Blackhand. Reluctantly, after their small conference, they clapped as well.

It seemed the winds were changing for the dwarven kind.