Update 11.0

When you sit and 'charge up,' you notice that something is being unlocked inside you. As if a deep and lost memory suddenly becomes accessible. You choose to explore it and are drawn into a vision of what looks like a massive underground battlefield. Large stalactites hang from the ceiling with water dripping off them like an indoor rain shower. You see several dwarf warriors fighting around you, against what many call 'The ancient enemy'. Drows.

You see several drows coming right towards you, and you instinctively hold up your shield and strike with your axe, managing to take down a couple of them, but there are too many, and suddenly you feel a sword stabbing you in the side, and you fall to your knees, while the drows move on.

A dwarf you don't recognize sees you fall, and comes running over to you. You grab the arm of the dwarf, and you hear yourself say 'I'm not... not done fighting. I won't be... carried to the halls of our ancestors, not yet. I wish to be... reborn... as one of the made.'

The dwarf looks at you with shocked eyes but nods and replies 'I understand… I swear it brother. You shall not end here.' as he takes out a small crystal and holds it against your forehead, before everything goes black, and you're back in your chair.

Update 12.0

Your vision becomes blurry, and for a moment, you feel a sense of weightlessness, as if you've disconnected from the present. Slowly, images begin to form in your mind, each vision as clear as the last. You realize you're not dreaming, but remembering.

You find yourself in a dark chamber, the atmosphere heavy with arcane energy. Dwarf runes adorn the walls, each faintly glowing with magic. In the middle of the room is a table, covered with various mystical instruments and mechanical components. You then become aware of your perspective—it's not coming from a pair of eyes, but rather from a viewpoint floating above the table, a formless consciousness that merely observes.

A weary dwarf enters the chamber, with heavy eyes, as if he hasn't slept for a long time. He mumbles something, maybe a name, but you don't quite catch it. He opens a small, simple box that radiates a soft, ethereal light. You feel drawn to it, as if you must find out what it contains.

The dwarf places the box in the center of a complex rune, mutters a sentence that echoes through the chamber. Arcane energy flares up, and you feel a rush as you're drawn into the center of it all. Your perspective becomes sharply narrowed, channeled into a mechanical form lying on the table—a body of metal. The moment is intense, filled with a dissonance that gives way to harmonization, as scattered musical notes finally form a melody.

For a brief moment, your 'vision' goes black, but when it returns, you look up at the dwarf from the table, your sensors adjusting, your new form becoming aware of its own existence.

As the memory fades, you're pulled back to the present, a newfound understanding embedded within your circuits. You realize you've just witnessed your own 'birth,' the exact moment your soul was transferred into your new body.

Update 13.0

As you again enter your charging state, you feel a familiar vibration inside you, a signal that awakens another profound memory. This time, you are pulled back to a time when you were part of a fearless dwarf patrol, deep down in The Underdark.

Your vision becomes vivid, and you find yourself in a narrow cave corridor. The glow from glowing lava falls casts an orange glow over the cave walls, casting long shadows that dance on the rock surface. You and your dwarf comrades are on a dangerous mission: to sabotage a critical supply route used by the drows.

Your patrol moves silently, aware of the constant danger lurking in the dark, cramped caves. You reach a wide cave, where drow guards patrol. With a sign from you, the attack begins. Your axes and swords collide with the enemy's weapons in a violent symphony of steel. You fight with the same endurance and skill as always, but this time the enemy is prepared.

'Retreat! We need to fall back!' you hear one of your comrades shout, as the drows overwhelm you with surprising strength.

You fight your way back, covering your comrades' retreat. As you fight, you hear one of your closest friends, a dwarf warrior, shout out, 'For our ancestors, for our future! Retreat, but remember, we are never defeated!'

As you turn to fall back, you catch a glimpse of a figure standing on a rise above the battlefield. A dark, figure observing the battle, a hint of recognition in your memories, but it's unclear.

As you and your patrol retreat through the narrow corridors, fighting and covering each other's backs, a true demonstration of dwarven brotherhood and tactical skill.

The memory ends abruptly, and you're back in the present, but with a deeper understanding of your past and the unyielding determination you carried as a dwarf, a determination that still burns inside your warforged form.

Update 14.0

After recent events, your visions have taken on a more intense and personal turn. You suddenly find yourself alone, enveloped by the oppressive and overwhelming atmosphere of The Underdark. The other dwarves, your companions, are no longer by your side, taken by the chaos of combat in a desperate retreat.

As you wander through the dark corridors, you struggle to maintain hope, but the reality of your solitude weighs heavily on your shoulders. Without warning, you are confronted by a group of drow, led by a figure you recognize with shock from previous visions – the mysterious drow. With a mixture of fear and unwavering resolve, you meet their intense gaze.

"You now stand before death," says the mysterious drow with a voice as cold as the eternal darkness of The Underdark. "But we recognize your warrior's honor. Die honorably, in single combat against one of our finest warriors."

With your heart pounding and no other option, you accept the challenge. You know the odds are against you, but your warrior's pride refuses to let you falter. The fight is brutal and swift. Despite your skill, the drow warrior proves superior. As you lie defeated, your demise seemingly inevitable, you make one final desperate move – you throw yourself from the cliff you stand upon, down towards the river below.

As you hit the cold embrace of the water, you're filled with a strange peace. The dream ends abruptly, but the sensation of the fall, and the water's embrace, lingers.

Update 15.0

Relic, though you do not dream, a vision comes to you in the stillness of your rest. Adea appears before you, her form a cascade of shimmering, radiant light. She shows you a desolate battlefield, enveloped in a thick, choking mist where the echoes of the fallen wail, trapped in the agony of their last moments.

As you walk this haunted ground, glyphs light beneath your steps, mirroring those on a large, sphere-like artifact pulsating with dark energy at the field’s center. Adea’s voice, both urgent and clear, speaks of this 'sphere of ancient power,' crucial for maintaining the world’s balance of magic and life. She implores you to seek it, to repair it, and prepare — for if she falls, this artifact might be the world's only hope against the encroaching darkness.

Update 16.0

You still feel as if you're falling, but suddenly you sense the icy water surrounding you, pulling you along with a powerful current. The water carries you deeper into The Underdark, far from the ruthless reach of the drow. You float with the stream, unable to fight against it, until eventually, it calms and leads you into an open cavern.

The cavern is unlike anything you’ve seen before; its walls are covered with crystals that pulse with a strange, living energy. They glow with a soft, ethereal blue light that reflects in the water around you, casting dancing shadows along the stone. One crystal, larger than the others and positioned in the heart of the cave, begins to draw you in, as though it calls to something deep within you.

You approach this crystal, almost hypnotized by its power, and as you reach out towards it, you see a distorted reflection in its shining surface. The sight fills you with an unsettling dread. Your face, your body—you are caught between two forms, halfway dwarf and halfway mechanical. Your old self fights against the mechanical body, but can’t reclaim its original shape.

A cold wave of fear washes over you, and a powerful urge to escape takes hold. You turn quickly, fleeing from the cave and away from the disturbing visions within the crystal. You scramble through dark corridors, desperately searching for a way out.

After some time, you see a warm light ahead—a campsite surrounded by dwarves. They stand guard with weapons at the ready, but one of them meets your gaze and nods, as if he’s been expecting you. He grabs your arm, not to restrain you but to support you, pulling you out of danger and into safety. As the dream fades, you’re left with the feeling that you glimpsed an unfamiliar part of yourself, a part still unknown, yet inevitable.

Update 17.0.1

The glow of the dwarven campfire flickers against the cavern walls, casting long shadows over the gathered warriors. You sit among them, soaked and exhausted, but alive. The dwarves who pulled you from the abyss offer no words of comfort—only nods of acknowledgment, as though your presence here was inevitable.

The leader of the patrol, a grizzled dwarf with streaks of silver in his beard, places a hand on your shoulder. “Yer lucky, lad. Most who take a fall like that don’t walk away.”

You should feel relief. Safety. But something gnaws at the back of your mind—an unease that tightens your grip on your axe.

A moment later, the cavern trembles.

The air shifts, cold and heavy, carrying a scent you recognize too well. Drow.

A shadow moves at the cavern’s edge, slipping between the rock formations like a specter. Your breath stills as the dwarves rise, weapons in hand. They see them too—dark shapes, slinking through the tunnels, encircling the camp like wolves cornering prey.

Then, he steps forward.

The drow from before. The one who did not let things go.

His presence commands the silence. He is taller than most of his kind, his dark robes trailing behind him like an extension of the shadows. His gaze meets yours, and for a brief moment, it feels like the cavern shrinks, the walls pressing in, the air stolen from your lungs. There is no satisfaction in his expression, no amusement—only cold certainty.

“Did you think I would forget?” His voice is smooth, measured. “You stole something from me. A battle. A death.”

Dwarven shields lock together. Axes rise. But the drow only lifts a hand, fingers tracing the air, and suddenly, the cavern is alight with violet fire. Spells ignite the battlefield. Dark shapes burst forward. The dwarves roar in defiance.

The fight is chaos.

You throw yourself into battle, your axe finding purchase in drow armor, your shield deflecting a spell meant to liquefy bone. The cavern fills with the clash of steel, the crackle of magic, the cries of the wounded.

And then—you see him again. The drow wizard does not fight as others do. He does not engage in the fray. He moves like a storm given form, his magic carving through dwarves with precise, unerring lethality. He is not here to win. He is here to end this.

And he has chosen to end you.

Your instincts scream a warning. You pivot just in time to see him raise his hand, a crackling sphere of shadow forming at his fingertips.

But before he can unleash it—

A warhorn echoes through the tunnels.

A second dwarven force surges from the tunnel behind him, their charge shaking the cavern floor. The wizard turns, scowling, his moment stolen. His forces falter, the ambush turned against them.

His gaze snaps back to you, and in that instant, you know—he will not forget this either.

Then, he vanishes into the dark, retreating with what remains of his forces.

The battle ends, but the war does not.

As the memory fades, the feeling lingers. That drow… he was not just a soldier. Not just another enemy. He was the same drow you saw lying on the slab in the place between space and time.