In the Middle Lands, within the lands of Daiin, there once stood a massive, solitary mountain.
A mountain blessed with abundance.
Deep within its depths lay gold and precious gemstones—materials valued far beyond ordinary gold. In quality, they were said to rival even dragon scales.
Finding such treasures was as difficult as discovering a single golden ring in an endless desert.
On the slopes of the mountain grew fertile fruits that strengthened the body and restored vitality. Powerful beasts roamed these lands, far stronger than common creatures. Their flesh and hides were worth as much as gold itself.
In the lands of Daiin lived one of the dwarven peoples—the Tor Clan.
They were wanderers, a people without a homeland, roaming the Middle Lands in search of survival.
When they entered Daiin, a land inhabited by many beast-like races, they were not welcomed.
The dwarves of the Tor Clan were hunted, robbed, their settlements burned, and many were sold into slavery.
At that time, the brave son of the Tor king rose to lead his people. After long deliberation, he guided them toward a mountain spoken of only in whispers—a fertile, nameless mountain said to grant prosperity.
As dwarves who had always lived among stone and peaks, the Tor Clan followed him without hesitation.
They searched every land in Daiin, yet all were already claimed by other races.
Nearly a decade passed.
Lost, starving, and exhausted, the Tor Clan continued onward, refusing to abandon hope of finding a home.
One day, a dense wall of fog appeared before them. Unaware that they were climbing ever higher, they pressed forward.
Within the fog, the experienced prince—now king after his father's death—noticed a faint light. Small, barely visible… yet real.
He continued climbing, unable to even see his own hand before his face.
With one final, heavy breath, he broke through the fog.
Above him lay the sun and the clouds.
A breathtaking view unfolded before his eyes, and at that moment, he understood.
They had found the mountain spoken of in legends.
"This mountain is our home now!"
The king's voice echoed across the lands of Daiin.
The once-lonely mountain awakened.
From that day onward, it was named Tor-Khaz, in honor of the king and the Tor Clan.
Time passed.
The Tor Clan settled within the mountain and delved ever deeper, discovering seas of gold, precious materials, and gemstones beyond imagination. They built a vast city and an impregnable fortress within the mountain's heart.
The Tor Clan grew unimaginably wealthy—richer than kings could ever dream.
For thousands of years, Tor-Khaz became the homeland of all dwarves of the Tor Clan. Their fame, wealth, and strength spread throughout the Middle Lands.
They carved countless mines, where emeralds and diamonds flowed like waterfalls. Gold could be found in every corner of the mountain.
The dwarves knew no equal in craftsmanship. They forged legendary swords, armor, and spears.
The mountain was ruled by King Loki, who governed wisely, knowing his legacy would be carried on by his sons and grandsons.
But no golden age lasts forever.
Darkness, war, and terror eventually came.
Because of its riches and power, Tor-Khaz became the center of trade and the wealthiest city in all the Middle Lands.
And thus, others desired it.
Among them were the Galuk—humanoid mountain goat-like beings whose name meant "Dwellers of the Peaks."
One Galuk tribe, Gurdir, led by the war chief Re-Rak, marched upon Tor-Khaz.
The Galuk were born for mountain warfare.
They stormed the city, conquered the mountain, and drove the dwarves from their home.
The young heir to the throne, Torgus, did not lose hope. He sought aid from the forest elves and stood before their king, Elidul.
But the elven king refused to involve his people in a war he deemed meaningless.
The Tor Clan wandered through wastelands, hills, and forests until they were taken in by another dwarven people—the Wilfut—who granted them the Grey Mountain as a new home.
But Torgus never forgot the slaughter of his people.
And he never forgave.
The Gurdir tribe did not enjoy Tor-Khaz for long.
Re-Rak crowned himself king of the mountain, but the blood of the dwarves soaked deep into the stone. Greed and endless riches slowly drove him mad.
Where blood is spilled, where greed is born, and where immeasurable wealth gathers—
a dragon always appears.
An ancient fire-breathing dragon descended upon the mountain, drawn by its gold.
As the dragon approached, a cold wind swept the peaks. Its shadow fell upon Tor-Khaz.
The Gurdir were unprepared.
Faced with terror and death, the survivors fled the mountain.
Thus came one of the Ten Great Calamities of the Middle Lands—
the dragon Klaus.
Centuries passed.
Meanwhile, there existed a land where dragons, war, and cruelty were nothing more than fairy tales told to children.
That land was Naro—the quietest, most hidden, and safest place in all the Middle Lands.
There lived a wizard who stood apart from the locals.
He was taller than the people of Naro and resembled a humanoid cat. His feline ears twitched constantly, and a long tail swayed behind him. He wore a large hat from beneath which thick fur could be seen, and he moved silently, as if gliding across the ground.
One glance was enough to know—this was a being who had lived a long life and witnessed more than most could imagine.
His name was Murphy.
The locals knew him well and welcomed him as one of their own.
The inhabitants of Naro were a race of humanoid rabbits—intelligent, talkative, and friendly.
They were called the Dabbit.
They lived in peace, knowing neither darkness nor war. Their homes were warm, bright burrows filled with comfort and tranquility.
And so, in the shadow of ancient calamities, a quiet story was about to begin.