It was I, King Hothen the Elder, who led the surviving dwarf warriors from the battlefield. Our numbers were perilously small, our prospects harrowing. We left our dead to the vultures and the crows. With our armies decimated, I led our people to a deep cave, far away, and there we built mighty Hothengold. The first law passed was one of survival, known as The First Decree. No man, elf or other - save dwarves - were allowed under the mountains. Those who wandered our way fell to our axes, and the great dwarf nation drifted out of sight and mind of even the most ambitious emperors. But hearken to my words, noble dwarves. The land of Odessiya will never heal until the races reunite. Whether by promise or blade, the Alliance will rise again, and the dwarf nation shall take its rightful place at the council of the great races. Until then, my people, I counsel patience, a trait rarely found among dwarves. Grow our clans and our wealth away from the eyes of the empire, but never forget who we once were. Be vigilant, be patient, and wait the coming of the Wycaan.