In the beginning there were five dwarven castes. The deep dwarves lived in the deepest, darkest corners of the earth, operating their legendary forges. The mountain dwarves had intrinsic knowledge of the components of the world around them, cutting them into gems and sculptures of entrancing beauty. The grey dwarves are scribes, sages, mages and governors, concerned only with the accumulation of wisdom and knowledge. The hill dwarves were explorers, searching every nook and cranny of the earth for riches. But these four castes were all specialists, and most of the day-to-day work was left to the most numerous caste; the barrow dwarves. They carved the great dwarven cities. They grew the food. They manned the mines. They formed the army. And they loved every second of it. For them, expansion was the ultimate bliss. To make the world as they desired. The other castes futily tried to curtail the expansion drift of the barrow dwarves, and a narrow balance was achieved for thousands of years. But then, one fateful day, it shattered. No one is really sure what happened, but the barrow dwarves went absolutely insane, slaughtering any other dwarf they could find, driving them to near extinction. No one has seen grey or mountain dwarves in generations, and only a small barrow of hill and deep dwarf survive in the northern mountains of Summerheart. But, deep beneath the surface, the deep dwarves still toil, seeking to remake the world in their image.
