Mithril-eyed dwarven miner doll

This item was a prize from the Hunt for History.

Item

a mithril-eyed Dwarven miner doll

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Smoothed pieces of mithril dot this doll, forming its only discernable facial features. A small, black cotton jacket and matching pants have been attached to the soft body and sewn into place to prevent their loss. The doll holds a cotton-stuffed miner's pick across its chest, as if ready to start a day's work.

Details

This item is said to date to the Red Rot Dwarven catastrophe.

Loresong

As it returns to focus, you find yourself in a stone-walled room, where a dwarven family sits at a heavy wooden table, husband facing wife and a child in between. The child clutches the same doll you are holding, although it appears much less worse for wear in this scene. The dwarven woman concentrates on the unpleasant task of sewing closed the gory wounds on her husband's arm, while listening intently to his low, gravelly voice as he tells his tales of the war against Despana. He shows little emotion for his topic, although the child draws closer to him as the story unfolds, seeking the comfort of his father's nearness as he learns that so many have been lost. As the vision of the room recedes with the last notes of the verse, the dwarf absent-mindedly rubs at a red mark on his cheek.

As it returns to focus, you find yourself in the same stone-walled room, although the family has moved about since you last saw them. The young dwarven boy sits at the table, using the body of the doll in front of him as a chinrest as he gazes at his mother. She tends to his father, now laying in bed and muttering through the heavy fog of fever. As she dabs at his brow with a damp cloth, he reaches with his still-wounded arm to clutch at her. He urgently whispers something, glancing at the child now and again. She nods patiently, grasping his arm and forcing him back to continue his rest. As the vision of the room recedes with the last notes of the verse, the weary mother rubs the back of her neck, her face flushed with the onset of illness.

As it returns to focus, the scene of a cavernous room filled with enormous pillars hewed from the rock opens before you. As far as the eye can see, dwarves lie on cots and patched blankets, some unconscious and others moaning in delirium. All are covered with liquid red welts, some of which ooze with blood. A young dwarven child, darting quickly from one hiding place to another, drags a beloved doll behind him as he stealthily searches the faces of the dwarves he passes, looking for one he has not yet found. Finally, the child's eyes light up as he emerges from behind a pillar to fling himself on a blanket that hosts the unconscious form of his mother. He shakes at her arm, begging her to wake up, attracting t

he attention of an empath tending to the sick nearby who ushers him away with both scolding words and a comforting touch to his hair.

As it returns to focus, you see a passageway filled with dust and the sounds of stamping feet. The dwarven boy follows behind an older dwarven couple, who look back now and again to assure themselves that he is still there. They carry heavy packs full of gear on their backs and push a wheelbarrow of household goods before them, the doll perched on top as if keeping watch over the hurried travel of its owner. As they emerge from the tunnel onto a carved rock bridge, the boy looks over the side into a chasm that yawns away beneath him. On cliff-side trails and deeper bridges, lines of dwarves, loaded with all their portable possessions, trudge heavily in a single direction. The heavy clang of miners' picks echoes up through the chasm, and you know that this can only be the dwarves destroying their path behind them. As this vision recedes with the last notes of the verse, a glimmer of light appears at the end of the passageway ahead.

As the world returns to focus, the dwarven boy, again clutching his doll, stands with many others outside a towering opening in a stone wall. Numerous dwarves work around the top of this grand arch and, with a loud rumble, they let loose a stream of debris, filling the archway with boulders, rocks, and pebbles. They then use rolling logs and ropes to coax an enormous slab of rock in front of the archway, sliding it back so that it joins with the surrounding stone, leaving no visible seam. One dwarf, dressed a shade finer than the rest, steps forward and leans a short ladder against the camouflaged barrier. He climbs to the top and, with chisel and hammer, proceeds to inscribe a single rune into the stone's surface. You are unable to get a good look at the rune, but for the dwarves around the boy, the meaning is clear. As this vision recedes with the last notes of the verse, a shout, tinged with grief, rises from the crowd, calling out in unison. Farewell!