Our arrival at the gates of Aggron was not heralded by the joyous trumpeting of horns nor the warmth of open arms. Instead, we were greeted by the cold clangor of steel and the hard, unyielding stares of dwarven sentinels, their axes gleaming beneath the flickering torchlight. The ancient stone archway loomed above us, carved with runes older than the kingdoms of men, and the air itself seemed to bristle with suspicion.
From the very first moment, it was clear: the dwarves harbored a deep-seated disdain for humankind, and they made no effort to conceal it. Their eyes, sharp as the blades they bore, watched our every movement with open derision. Whispers, harsh and guttural, rippled through their ranks as we approached, and though I could not decipher their tongue, the meaning was unmistak
