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"Marchin' through town, drivin' their big wagons over the
pass. They even stay at hill dwarf inns!"
"That pass was built by hill dwarf sweat, hill dwarf
blood!" cried Flint, appalled at the news. "They'd never let
the mountain dwarves use it!" No, never, Flint repeated ve-
hemently to himself.
The history of the hill and mountain dwarves was a bitter
one, at least during the centuries since the Cataclysm. At
that time, when the heavens rained destruction upon
Krynn, the mountain dwarves withdrew into their great un-
derground kingdom of Thorbardin and sealed the gates,
leaving their hill dwarf cousins to suffer the full force of the
gods' punishment.
The hill dwarves had named the act the Great Betrayal,
and Flint was only one of the multitudes who had inherited
this legacy of hatred from his forefathers. Indeed, his fa-
ther's father, Reghar Fireforge, had been a leader of the hill
dwarf armies during the tragic, divisive Dwarfgate Wars.
Flint could not believe that the dwarves of Hillhome would
avert their eyes to the undying blood feud.
"I'm afraid they are," replied Hanak, his tone gentler
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