Onin Oathbreaker, Master of the Invisible Art

[Tekill]

The name's Onin.
I ain't got no clan name anymore. I was stripped of it. But where I come from, folk know me as Onin the Dishonored or simply, Onin Oathbreaker.
But just Onin is fine, if it be all the same to you.
I'm Duergar.
I hail from Gracklstugh Located in Northdark. It be the strongest city in all the Underdark- no word of a lie!
I ain't been in the Gauth Grottoes area long, only havin just arrived here by teleportation spell recently. Oh, the Gauth Grottoes if yer not certain, tis an area in the underdark where the black elf city o'Sshamath be located... Rockrun too I suppose, aint too too far away from there. Rockrun- BAH!!!-
Right then, lemme try to express me heart felt feelins on the subject o'Rockrun.
I ain't sure what dark filthy demon lord of the Abyss turned the Duergar on this side o'the Underdark into some sorry retched pile o'Rothe droppings. But I can tell ye this much, they be no kin o'mine!
No kin of mine would lose a war to Svirfs, let alone lose their own bloody home!
No kin of mine would still be slaves te the squid faces!
And no Duergar, would just let any thieving, slimy, no good, rotten, stinkin, ugly adventurer scum, just stroll on into their mines without a care in the world, and plunder them, to their hearts content!
At this point I want te make it clear, that any of me actual kin will tell ye I ain't the best one te speak on behalf of me people. But trust me when I tell ye this, there's a big difference between an actual and true Duergar, and some beaten Gauth Grotto Gray Dwarf!
It brings a heaviness to me heart at even the slightest mention of giant mushrooms!
So, I let Rockrun be a reminder that even the strongest can lose their discipline and become weak and pathetic. But the bigger reminder here should be for you others. For when ye bring up fond memories of Rockrun, (such as its delicious mushroom ale), make sure ye get it through yer thick skulls not te think a Duergar and Gray Dwarf are the same.
There, I said it twice- in the case it was missed the first time. Get it threw yer thick skulls!
Two sorts, the strong kind and the weak kind!
Okay, I'm gettin all bent outta of shape and only just started writing all this down.

I be Onin, I'm Duergar, I hail from Gracklstugh.

[Tekill]

Gracklstugh.
A home carved outta the stone, and just as hard...
When we duergar first started buildin' the city, we did so newly freed from the Mindflayers. Yeah, ye probably heard about me people bein' deserted by our so called kin, friends and allies of the realms. Forced to survive millennia after millennia of enslavement and torture. Oh, I am certain ye heard all about how them “greedy Duergar” went and buggered themselves but good, didn't you!?
Mayhaps, ye heard correct...
But by Deep Duerras blessings, we rose above both those that deserted us and above our cursed enemies, all the while becoming stronger for our efforts. Doing it with no help from anybody!
And that's why we owe nothin' te anyone!
From that very first moment, that very first taste o'freedom, we knew only two things:
We had te work hard and we had te fight hard.
An now, me ol'home city o'Gracklstugh, has the hardest workers, the best crafters and the toughest warriors, anywhere. And lemme point out, while I am at it, that the best that Gracklstugh has te offer, has got all three qualities!
Aye, a city full up with triple threats!
There was this one fella, Dranwol Blackanvil. Now he was what we would call a Gray Disciple, or a Monk, by non Duergar. And a right proper Gray Disciple he was, too!
I too, be a Gray Disciple, or monk, as it were, so trust me, I know what I am talkin' about.
Now, there be two main castes o'Gray Disciples. Ones what serves Laduguer and those, like yours truly, that serve Deep Duerra the heroine o'tha Duegar. There also be other types o'monks about but if yer based outta Gracklstugh then yer likely to be of one of two camps.
Now Dranwol, bein' a servant of Laduguer, cared more about the work and the crafting, than the fighting and the conquerin'. His sort built strength from years upon years (progressions) of toiling at their craft. They barely eat, barely sleep, barely even drink. They strengthen their minds and and bodies through dedication te their craft.
And that bloody Dranwol was a true master at it too!
The feller would work his smithy until he collapsed, catch 40 winks usin' the anvil as a pillow, then get back up and get right back at it.
The purpose of all that work, was simply to gain better focus and insight. Ye see, this one was hellsbent on finding all the answers to existence, to the mystical essence and inner strength within us all....
Right then, just so ye know, that last part, about tha inner strength, that's what folk call monk talk. Just in case ye were not sure what in blazes I was talking about. More on that later...
Anyways, long story short, he was reachin his true enlightenment through the meditative effort of hard work and through the mastery o'weapon smithing.
After about two centuries at the anvil he had achieved mastery like non other. And according to his teachings, he had reached the pinnacle of his abilities and his craft. According to him, he was nearing Godhood itself!
He had but to craft just one more item. A weapon that he envisioned would be the cause of wholesale and widespread destruction and desolation; a weapon that would cause Kingdom's to rise and fall.
So he began his final step of his journey. He worked without food, without sleep, day after day (cycle after cycle) without stopping. The records are unclear about how long this went, some writings say years (progressions)... but in the end he succeeded!
He also died. Aye, as dead as can be. Some say he reached a sort of enlightenment surpassing the mortal form...but Im of a mind that he just keeled over.
But ye can't just go on ahead and fergit about him, because in more ways than one he reached tha end of his path, his destiny!
The weapon of mass destruction was completed!
What was this force of devastation ye might ask?
A simple forge hammer.

Gracklstugh home of the Duergar, where many such weapons are found.

[Tekill]

Onin the Duergar.

I need to be clear on me purpose, in all o'this. I am not fer writing this all down so that one day I can share me inner most feeling and thoughts with other folk. An' mayhaps a pretty drowess might find my written work all soft and fluffy and she falls in love- HAR!
Ol'Onin Charmer o'tha drow lassies!

No.
The purpose be for training.
Pure an simple. Training. Training me mind.
Tis tha way of the warrior. Tha way of a Gray Disciple o'Deep Duerra, the Queen o'tha Invisible Art.

Ain't no point in speakin about me self or me people without speakin about Deep Duerra and her followers the Norothor Clerics. Deep Duerra blessed us with the Invisible Art and the Norothor teach this gift to us, granting the Duergar with mind magic.
This gift gave us our our chance of survival.
We return a gift to her of growth and conquest.

In uncovering and tapping into me own powers o'the mind, I have been taught te destroy certain barriers or blocks I have set fer meself. Such barriers make me weak. When I destroy a barrier, then my link te The Invisible Art grows stronger.
Me mind gets stronger, me body gets stronger.
That, be me Purpose.
But In order te destroy these barriers, I got te first discover them, within meself.

For example-
I wouldn't trust a Gray Dwarf as far as I could thow'em. They be cunning, craven, greedy misers, blinded by ambition and hatred. They make deals with devils, and show no mercy to their enemies or their slaves. And rarely do they treat their kin much better.

But somethin deep inside wants me to defend Duergar honor te the death. They be a hard working, industrious, fearless bunch o'pragmatic realists, that have overcome unspeakable suffering, rising to a place o'power, doing what they gotta do. And on top o'that, a duergar would die fer their kingdom, without a second thought....well if they know what be good fer them.

One gave me everything and the other took it all away. That be the barrier.

I suppose the way te break this barrier, is te come te the understandin that two completely contradictory ideas can exist at tha same time. I gotta stop strugglin te take one truth over tha other, and accepted them both.

Now, I just gotta figure a way te do this.

Gray Disciple Onin Oathbreaker, tha walking contradiction.

[Tekill]

A famous chant to Deep Duerra, Axe Princess o'Conquest:
“With The Invisible Art, the duergar shall destroy or enslave all. They will all bow to the power of the duergar and the brilliance of the Invisible Art.”

Conquest through The Invisible Art.
Make them bow and kill those that refuse. Simple!

When I was still a young lad, I used te work out of one of the mines my clan owned. Just a small mine, but still enough te put some gold in me pockets. One time, after some hard work in the mine, me and the fellas showed up for some ale at the local tavern and fightin' pit.
Well, as it so happens, on this occasion, the Tavern Owners new prized fighting Goblin, was knockin out contenders left right and center. So meself, with the wisdom of one with more than a few ales in'im, decided drunkenly, to try my luck as the next contender.
I am a bit ashamed to admit it, but that smelly goblin kicked me backside all over that fighting pit.
Now, in me own defense, he was big for a goblin and and very battle hardened. While I myself was both drunk, and still a young little runt of a lad – having not even yet entered the military.
But that right there will be enough excuse making, from me- I was losing and losing badly!
The last thing I remember was it looking me dead in the eyes, grinning at me, with its hands around me throat. Then things went sorta black after that.
When I woke up, we were both lying on the ground. The thing sprawled on top of me as dead as can be. My thumbs were buried up to my wrists, jambed deep into each of the things eye sockets.
I killed it, I won, all ends well-
But nay....
This was not supposed te be a fight te the death. In my pride, about not wanting te be beaten by an ugly ol'goblin, I blatantly cheated by killin' the thing instead.
Me first kill...
Lets just say the Tavern Owner, took the no eye gougin' rule seriously, and emptied out me pockets of all me gold, te pay fer the loss o'his prize pit fightin' goblin.

There be a calculated cost o'killing.

[Tekill]

Duergar, know the calculated cost o'killing.
But what about the value o'life?
We respect tha' it be tha lives o'our slaves and not jus' the blood of our enemies, that help build our cities, our civilization.
So aye, we calculate the price o'life and death. Doing so better'n most, I'd wager.
Sound wicked and cold blooded?
It be no more wicked than the cruel world o'the Underdark. Nay, we don't ask for things te be this way, they just are. Ye kill or ye get killed.

But it should be said that, calculating the price o'life aint the same as life's value....

Time fer monk talk:
I'm put in this existence te master The Invisible Art. And te do that I must open all tha doors o'perception te me mind- te unblock all barriers. It be the mind that links to all areas o'existance, including life itself. And te add te that, it be life itself that be at the core o'The Invisible Art.

That is te say, because The Invisable Art be important, then life's got to be important too...cuz they be linked...
....Somehow.

Now, as a loyal servant of a Goddess o'war, it be almost heresy to take away me focus that of conquest. Especially when tha distraction be studyin' the importance of tha value of life!

There was this time back in me Gracklstugh military days. Me unit jus' successfully ambushed an expedition of Shield Dwarves. The fools went and thought they would explore too deep and too far from their safe happy mountain homes.
The ambush went off without a hitch, and with few injuries and no casualties on our side. We thought them all dead, and were startin our march back to Gracklstugh, when one o'them got up and made a break for it.
He was injured and runnin' in the wrong direction, headin' deeper into tha Underdark where any number of horrible fates was waitin' fer him.
I grabbed me best throwin' axe and took aim.
Then that's when the strangest notion took over me.
I suddenly thought, what if this fella was a family man?
What if he was out in the dark, riskin his neck te try and support a wife and some wee lil pink younglings up there in that happy mountain home?
I couldn't do it. I even yelled out te him and pointed him te run in the right direction, back to his kin and home. This dwarf was important te folk that cared for'im. That depended on him. I yelled out: “Go, me light skinned cousin, go find your bearded wife and your wee ankle bitters!”

Actually, I am just meessin with ye -tha didn't happen . What are ye, daft!?
I threw that axe o'mine and sent it plunging deep into the poor buggers back, droppin him like a stone.
I had done him a kindness. He didn't stand a chance in them tunnels alone an' injured.

But I still think of that mountain dwarf, from time te time....him, his curly bearded wife and their wee ankle biters that will never see him again.

[Tekill]

Duergar women can't grow beards. I know this fer a fact.
Drow woman can grow beards but they choose not to. I dont know this fer a fact, but I know it be true.

Tha beards o'tha dwarven lasses up on tha surface start off all soft and fluffy when they be young but then get all wiry and thick, as they get older.
I wish I never knew this....