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A Dwarf's View of Dwarves is a book in Divine Divinity, it was intended to be a gift from Otho Rignaforoixx to Lanilor


The book can be found in Otho Rignaforoixx's house. It is found on top of table next to a candle and leaning against a bookshelf.



Certain information gleaned by Pakarino the Researcher.

Hilmar Haudrauf - a 'Granite Dwarf' and Law master of high regard among his people - was interviewed by myself at the Dwarven Bread Inn during his recent trading mission to the Duchy. I do not wish to question the veracity of this honourable dwarf's answers to my questions, but I estimate Hilmar contained nearly as much ale as the half-full barrel he was leaning on at the time.

PtR: What is the reason for the relatively small stature of dwarven people?
HH: It's an economy measure. If we were any taller, we'd have to dig bigger tunnels to get about.

PtR: How tall can dwarves grow?
HH: There was once a dwarf who never drank mead or ale. Poor bugger grew to the height of four dwarves on top of each other. That's why we dwarves drink alcohol from birth - to stunt our growth to a decent size.

PtR: Who was the shortest dwarf you ever heard of?
HH: Oh, there's this clan of dwarves I once heard tell of. Not one of them was more than three handbreadths high, so they say. Some bloody humans enslaved them and forced them to work in their gardens - digging, pushing little wheelbarrows and having to fish in ornamental ponds for their food. Shameful, shameful...

PtR: Why do dwarves never shave their beards?
HH: What?! And end up looking as ugly as a human or an elf? Never!

PtR: The animosity between the elves and the dwarves is ancient, but we humans do not know why you dislike each other so much. What is the reason?
HH: "There's nothing wrong with an elf that you can't fix with good stout axe." That's an old dwarf saying, you know. The truth is that elves are folk of the forests and outdoors, while dwarves are folk who love rock and tunnelling. It's hard to like someone when you've got nothing in common with him or her. Still, I've known some good elves in my time - even if they can't hold their ale.

PtR: How much ale can a lone dwarf drink in one sitting?
HH: I don't know. How much ale is there in the world?

PtR: What is the maximum lifespan of a dwarf?
HH: Very old by your standards, human. Your race, the imps and the orcs all die tragically young by our standards. Ha! You'd think yourself ancient if you topped a hundred. For a dwarf, that's a deal short of middle age. Only elves live longer than we do.

PtR: Why do dwarves restrict the supply of gold so carefully? If you traded all you have hoarded away, then everybody would be rich!
HH: No they wouldn't. Everyone would still be poor, but gold would be next to worthless. You other races simply don't understand the concept of monetary inflation.

PtR: Why do dwarves never wash themselves?
HH: We do, human. We just don't wash in disgusting water the way other folk do. Every morning I give myself a refreshing grit rubdown, then I splash myself with a little soured mead. It makes my armpits nice and sticky and the aroma is irresistible to the lady dwarves. Heh heh.

PtR: It is said that you dwarves have thousands of words for stone in your language, why so many?
HH: How many words do you have to describe the weather, human? Stone is our natural medium. Strata of stone are the same to us as the sun, clouds and wind are to you. Now bugger off. That sweet little dwarfette with the big biceps is giving me the eye. I tell you, soured mead catches their fancy every time...

*For Lanilor, best wishes to your "mandra-san"... signed Otho*