In the Mines of Ŝibôŕ, a crowd of dwarves lived. The first king of these dwarves commanded them to build a great city for him. The dwarves, all at his service, heeded this command and began to work tirelessly to fulfill it. After centuries passed, and so did kings, the great city was completed. At eleven floors, five above the surface and five below the city was one of the largest. On every floor, above and below were grandly built walls, pillars, bridges, and decorations so affluent. At the surface level, the center floor, a great throne room was built. Walls ornately carved and some of the most precise and skilled pillars were installed. Lining the long and great hallway were grand statues of kings passed and great idols of the dwarves. At the end of the hall the largest and greatest throne was built. And behind the throne of course, was a treasure room. The king foresaw treasure to come, and he’d need a large room to store it.
When the next king ascended, crowned the fifth king of the dwarves of Ŝibôŕ, he commanded his dwarves to delve into the mines below once more, and bring back iron to be fashioned into steel. The dwarves diligently mined away, dedicated both to their task and to their king. They dug deeper and deeper into the grand mountain of Ŝibôŕ, attempting to make it heel. As further kings passed, mounds of iron were turned into steel, and this steel was used to reinforce and expand their great city, and to craft things such as weapons, armor, cups, plates, decorations, statues, and tremendously affluent things.
When the eighth king of the great city and great mines of Ŝibôŕ ascended, he built many a grand dwarven army. He would go on to command his armies to seek out far away lands, and plunder the treasures they kept. The dwarves ventured out, killing, and stealing wherever they
could. Each time the armies returned, they dumped mounds of gold, jewels, necklaces, crowns, and great treasures at the eighth king's feet. Yet each time he’d demand they venture out once more, and bring him further and further treasure.
Two kings later, the dwarven armies of Ŝibôŕ would not be told to venture further. Instead the tenth king of the great Ŝibôŕ demanded his subjects into the mines again, to bring him gold, as much of it as they could. And so they did. The dwarves delved down and dug deeper and deeper into the rocks and into the stones reaching depths never seen before. The dwarves gathered mounds and mounds of gold, until eventually the great treasure room behind the king's throne was filled. This of course, would not do. The king demanded them build a bigger treasure room, one hundreds and hundreds of feet large in every direction.
After centuries passed, the massive treasure room of the twelfth king held an unimaginably large pile of treasure. Yet still, this was not enough. Once again he commanded his dwarves into the mines, this time to mine gemstones. Diamonds, rubies, and all things of that sort. As the dwarves delved deep and deep, approaching the end of the planet's crust, the mining turned perilous. Countless dwarves would lose their lives fulfilling their king's demand for gems. Yet he would not allow them to stop.
Once the thirteenth king ascended, he demanded his dwarves hand over all of their valuables, their own personal treasures. All of this belonged to him, he told them, after all they lived and kept their treasures in the mountain, of which he was king. After groups and groups of dwarves denied the king's request, he would demand his dwarves to slay their own brothers. The dwarves would pick up their arms, laid down centuries ago, and begin to spill blood. Every single one of the thirty one floors, and the thousands of feet of mines of Ŝibôŕ was covered in the tainted blood of the kinslaying. The dwarves would fight one another, within their grand city in their grand mountain for over a decade.
Eventually, the thirteenth king would fall. But a fourteenth would not ascend. The dwarves of Ŝibôŕ were broken, and shattered. They had no sense of purpose, no one to look up to or to follow. After years of fighting, the exhausted and debilitated dwarves would lay down their
weapons, armor, and shields, and leave the mountain of Ŝibôŕ, never to return. In the grand mountain of Ŝibôŕ stood a towering pile of treasure, which would do nothing but collect dust. Other than the occasional passerby, archeologist, or treasure hunter. The great city sat idle and alone. The grand city of Ŝibôŕ within the great and massive mountain of the same name was great, yet terrible, ornate, yet decrepit, inspiring, yet intimidating.
In the Mines of Ŝibôŕ, no one stood. The great city would become neither great nor a city any more. It would simply be a mountain of greed, a bloody memory, and a warning for all dwarves to come.
