Heir of Delzoun

Yea, the blood o’ Delzoun flows in me veins! I come
a’seekin Gauntlgrym, and I durn’t care how many tried
and failed! Well, of course I have me a plan! Buy the next
round, and I’ll tell ye all about it.

Thousands of years ago, in an age of great empires,
the dwarven realm of Delzoun thrived. Said to be the
pinnacle of dwarven culture, Delzoun was a place
whose citizens were happy and productive, trading in
relative peace with their neighbors. When Netheril
was laid low by the folly of the mage Karsus, it was
not only the Shadovar that suffered.

Like so many of the dwarves of the North, your
family claims direct descent from Delzoun. However,
with so many making that same claim, who knows if
any speak the truth? In private, for much of your life,
you’ve had your doubts.

Then seventeen years ago, during the Summons,
the ghosts came.

Perhaps only one in a thousand dwarves has made
a believable claim to have seen them-but you are one
of those chosen few. Clad in the vestments of ancient
times, the ghosts spoke with a voice that only you
could hear. Pleading in the manner of dwarves in the
most desperate need, they begged for help- not for
themselves, but for all your kind. They spoke of an
“awakening beast” that must not be allowed to rise.
And before they vanished, they begged you to come to
them-in Gauntlgrym.

Gauntlgrym. What dwarf of the North has not
dreamed of that place? Most people think it a myth or
a ruin cast to rubble ages ago, but dwarves know different.
Dwarves feel the truth in their bones.

For a time, Gauntlgrym was the capital of Delzoun.
The underground city was the grandest
settlement in the North-perhaps in all the world.
Doors cast of pure mithral opened at a dwarf’s slightest
touch. A forge burned there so mighty that items
of enchantment could be made without magic. So
great was Gauntlgrym that humans, elves, halflings,
and gnomes all begged to live beneath its roof, and
were welcome.

Yet Gauntlgrym fell long ago- first to orcs, then
to humans who claimed it, then to mind flayers, and
finally to the mists of history. Rumors have placed it
in numerous locations. Some claim to have seen it or
have maps to it, but lunatics and scoundrels assert
many things. The Summons drew many to search for
it, including you.

In the end, your search has brought you to the
Neverwinter region, where Gauntlgrym might yet
lie hidden. Some of your family think you mad.
Others burn like the sun with pride, for you have
the opportunity to prove their claim of Delzoun
blood. Many have sought Gauntlgrym
before; others do so now, because you are not the
only dwarf to have seen the phantoms or to claim
the blood of ages. But if you can succeed, you
can elevate yourself and your family name to the
heights of dwarven annals and legends. You can
restore the remnants of your people’s greatest glory.
And, just possibly, you can prevent the rise of an
evil as great as that which destroyed Delzoun.

The dire warnings of the ghosts whose summons
you obey weigh heavily on your heart. You have followed
the rumors that bore the greatest ring of truth,
but now that you’ve reached Neverwinter, you know
that completing your quest will require all the help
you can get.


All dwarves of the North know this poem, said
to have been composed in the earliest days of Gauntlgrym.

Silver halls and mithral doors
Stone walls to seal the cavern
Grander sights than e’er before
In smithy, mine, and tavern
Toil hard in endless night
In toast, oh, lift yer flagon!
Ye’ll need the drink to keep ye right
At the forge that bakes the dragon.
Come Delzoun, come one and all!
Rush to grab yer kin
And tell ’em that their home awaits
In grandest Gauntlgrym!

Heir of Delzoun

Neverwinter mencavage