In the days when Hafgrim ruled Dynkyr alone, the Humans fell into heresy. They elevated certain among their tribes to chieftains, from chieftains to kings, and from kings to objects of veneration. Monuments were raised to their great men, and homage was paid to them as though they were the Aenire of old. Some were revered as if they stood in the place of the Ere All.
We looked upon these things with disquiet.
In sorrow and in disapproval we turned away and once more shut the doors of our world to that which lay beyond. The market was closed to them, and the Deepwards grew silent to foreign tongues. We waited for judgment to come, for surely Baere would not suffer such confusion of flesh and divinity to endure. If the Urok were not spared judgment for the sake of their false god, and if the Stonekin were not spared the Cataclysm, and if the Vyrum brought ruin by their own sacrilege, what then could be expected for the younger race, save destruction?
Thus we withdrew.
Yet despite all that stirred beyond the Curtain, within the Bastions of Dynkyr the Stoneborn prospered. Years of plenty had filled our vaults with treasure and our storehouses beyond imagining. The Five Brothers yielded faithfully. The Arvanaith rang with song and hammer. The greatest of our craftsmen taught their craft to brothers and sons, and the halls were bright with ordered industry.
It seemed to many that the world without was troubled, but the world within remained secure.
Hafgrim was Regn for seven and thirty and two hundreds of years before he died. He was succeeded by Ulugar the Regn.
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