Drums in the Deep

Once, long ago, there were five great Dwarven cities beneath five great mountains with five great Kings to rule them. Each believed themselves to be the greatest of all, and yet each coveted the others' lands and riches. Most coveted of all was the rare and precious mithril; a metal so malleable it could be bent into shape by a strong dwarf, yet so strong it could stop an arrow. None of the kings could claim more than a handful of their own.

In the no man’s land between the Dwarven nations lay the town of Boot's Rest, little more than a tiny notch in a mountain where travelers would stop for the day. It was well known as a dangerous, vile place, lawless and cruel, placed as it was on the border of all dwarven kingdoms. One day while idly digging into the mountain, one of the travelers stumbled upon a rich vein of mithril. There was more in this one vein than in all the hordes of the Dwarven kings. They each at once sent expeditionary forces, with only their finest warriors to claim it. Then they sent their second finest; then their third. None returned.

Generations of war passed, until at last the sons of the sons of the sons of the great kings themselves came to claim the mountain with all that remained of their clans. From their base camps the kings planned and plotted, sending their troops to die in droves for mere inches of land. The forces circled each other warily until, one by one, all the great Kings suffered mysterious and seemingly avoidable deaths: one fell off a bridge with no railing, one choked on a surprisingly small piece of knotted bread, one fell down a mine-shaft onto forty three knives, another tripped and held himself down in the fire while forging his Queen an ornate beard barrette, and the last was very obviously bludgeoned to death with kitchenware by his servants.

The remaining forces agreed to inhabit the mountain together, living as one without tyrant kings. The five noblest of the clans remaining from the old kingdoms formed a council with five seats each to govern the new city. While each clan still held power, they all bowed ultimately to the council's will.

Meanwhile, in the heart of the mountain, an ineffable force slept fitfully. The sounds of Dwarven pickaxes crept ever closer as orc drums built to a fever pitch.

Drums in the Deep, a mining and political game of desolation and honor. Each clan represents a powerful clan in the last great Dwarven city of Boot’s Rest and must negotiate with each other to stay alive just long enough to ensure that they’ll be remembered for all ages.