"Whats this do?" Asked the visting Human.
"That," Dugfar replied. "Is my- Wait! Don’t tou-"
...and with that they were buried alive.
The Grand Forge of Karak is known more generally as the Forge of Woe, for none can use it and remain untouched.
In some ways, the Dwarves of Urek were ahead of their time. Masters of metallurgy and alchemy, they had numerous technologies the human kingdoms were unaware of.
If you think the ones with the axes and beards are bad, wait until you stumble across a nest of feral dwarves…
The proud dwarven Captain Dugfar stood atop his mighty machine of magic and stone looking down the mountain they had just emerged from; letting the wind whip his beard over his shoulder… "This is a proud day for the Dwarves!" He bellowed. "...and this is just the start!"
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman