Translated without a dwarven dialect for ease of read:

It was an ordinary day as any.

We at Thelsamar enjoy a good, spicy brew chilled to the finest degree.  Our brothers and sisters at the Morogh prefer a more bitter taste than those of us that have chosen to reside in the warmer climates.  Their weather is fierce, and attacks made by trolls and wendigo are certainly nothing to laugh at.  Nonetheless, us here at the Loch have our troubles.  With the recent shortage of water supply due to the dam's collapse, imports have been a necessity for our people's survival.  As if the foul candle-wielding kobold vermin weren't enough, rummaging murlocs have recently begun several attacks upon sweet Thelsamar.  While not intelligible in the least, they're not stupid.  They know of our stash, and they continue to stop at nothing in order to get the last of it.  I have been appointed as apart of a militia within our town, able-bodied and ready to prevent harm from reaching our women and children.  Regardless, some have felt the stingy wrath of a murloc unquenched.

Bruall was his name.  Barley and brew were his game.  A stout and fair lad, still of youth, had traveled quite the distance from his home to find lands less harsh.  We welcomed him with smiles, room, and board.  He was a hunter, or so I figured from the companion that he had brought with him from the homeland.  Bruall certainly had a boastful attititude about him, claiming himself to be the next Brann Bronzebeard!  How I wish I could have detracted these goals just a tad...

My life had been committed to the protection of Thelsamar long before the militia, and I wasn't having any dangers come across us, whether from within or without.  I had talks with this boy, as I didn't think much of him considering his lack of experience.  He had no wrinkles, no visible scars.  This child was full of imagination, and his life was naively devoted to a thrill of the hunt I hadn't seen in any of our townspeople.  I digress.  For many months, fair Bruall certainly aided us greatly by bringing us not only pelts, but meat from the bears and wolves he had hunted down in the wilderness east of town.  I warned him not to tread near the Loch itself, and he obeyed - for a while.

One day, however, I caught him.  He was racing out of town as fast as his stubby legs could get him.  Foolishly or not, I had to follow.  I am a man of duty, and I will not let harm come to any dwarf residing in our lands, be he or she birthed here or not.  Murlocs were slain in his approach, and I could only watch as he masterfully conquered the little buggers.  I was impressed, to say the least.  But the feelings of pride and awe were put to rest.  As he reached the hills of a former island, Bruall attracted the attention of an old enemy I had thought dessimated - the Mo'grosh had come.  Barreling down the hill with ferocity, the ogres had caught young Bruall off guard.  I darted as swift as I could, but it was of no use.  The fiends seemed to deflect his bullets, and crushed the young lad's skull in with a hammer of stone.  Then, their attention transferred to me. 

I regret to admit that I ran.  All of the years of training to be tough and stronghearted had dissipated within an instant at the fear of losing my life, and I strafed off towards the Wetlands.  I wasn't going to bring them to Thelsamar, no matter what happened to me.  Thankfully, I escaped with my life - the ogres had lost interest in the chase.  Still, the emotional damage had been done.  I had let a fellow dwarf down - I'll never be the same fellow again for it.  I returned to Thelsamar with the grim news, to mixed reactions.  Some felt that I had done all that I could.  Others felt that I had no right to protect the town any further.  Still more snickered at the young lad's foolish treading out of safety.  There was no right answer.  No tears were shed, but no smiles were to be had either.  I had become as our ancestors - pure stone, lacking in feeling, cast off from what made me a dwarf. 

Still, this is no time to be ignoring the reality of our situation.  The Mo'grosh ogres are no longer content within their crawlspace on the other side of the Loch.  With the dire water situation, I can't say I blame them.  Of course, that doesn't mean I'm going to let them enter our lands without a fight. 

Dark days loom ahead for the people of Loch Modan. 


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