by Boromin Firebelly, Ranger of the Iceborne-Dwarves
It was my father, Grôr Firebelly, who was among the Dwarves of the First Expedition to Ferron, the harsh lands north of Camline Sea. Three weeks did the voyage from Port Vordard to the shores take them. The further north they came, the more dangerous the waves and floating mountains of ice became. But alas he made it savely.
He was just as surprised as everyone else when they arrived not in what they believed to be an uninhabited land, for there on the shores they found a city of humans. They call themselves the Maldarii.
There are about two dozen petty-kingdoms in the southwestern lands of Ferron, a region they call Notranea. It is limited by the Thoratine Mountains to the west and east.
In these mountains my father and the First Expedition established the city of Ikadrôn and the first realm of the Iceborne-Dwarves. It is here that I now write these words.
Twenty years ago in 2987 EC the Second Expedition arrived. They were looking for us, for they did not know our fate, because we only had sparse contact with Asthafar ever since our arrival in 2468 EC. It was here that we learned of the end of the Great War, which had ravaged Asthafar for several hundred years. It was this very war that prompted my father to join this expedition in the first place. We rejoiced with our brothers, but a return to Asthafar was out of the question, for we are no longer Ironrock-Dwarves.
The Dwarves of the Second Expedition would travel further north into the mountains where they established the Halls of Trûrakhûr. They explored further than any of us ever had and did the very thing from which the Maldarii had warned us: They went beyond the mountains.
What they found there was an endless plain of ice and snow, followed by an impenetrable, violet mist. Shortly thereafter they knew, why the Maldarii feared this place, for they faced of against the Ice Demons. Few escaped and those who lived did so only through the help of others. Those others are the Kaldarii, the Frost-Men of Kaldor, which they call this plain.
Though their numbers are few, they fight with the might of a hundred men, for this is their life. They wander the lands of Kaldor, killy any Ice-Demons, Frostwyrms and monster they see. They do not tire, they do not hunger, for they are satiated by the eternal fury of Bro'Krach, their War-God.
Who knows what Ferron would look like withouth their endless struggle. I rest well knowing their maces protect us from the horrors of the mist.