Sturgard sat in his chambers, thick books and scrolls piled about. As the dwarven numbers had dwindled, and time away from the world of men had left the lore of his own order waning, he now found himself awash in the tomes that he had been allowed to borrow from the vaults of Calledor. Upon arrival there with his friends and their human wards, every door had been opened to him, the last high priest of the Dwarven Order of Eald. The road to Calledor had been a dangerous journey, and as he sifted through the volumes of precious, nigh forgotten arcana, trying his best to burn into his mind as much of the writings of Eald as possible, he stumbled across an ancient scroll whose runic heading simply read, "Golemz".

            Opening the scroll, he began to read and memorize the formulae he found, the cryptic phrases that he knew would gain the attention of Eald for the formation of one of these massive automatons. A chill ran down his spine when he thought of how narrowly he and the others had escaped the golems which had been sent upon them, and of the blasphemy it was that these divine helper constructs had been created through dark invocations from the resurrected Sigwulf, the Betrayer, who had brought the greatest of shames to all dwarvez.