|AoC:||Crafts, magic, prot-|
|Symbol:||Shield with broken|
Laduguer claims that he left the dwarven pantheon of his own will, taking a voluntary exile to put himself at a distance from his "lazy" brethren. He hates other dwarves and their deities with a passion, and drives the duergar into early graves with the punishing demands of work. Laduguer says he's trying to train them to be tougher than the average dwarf, and it seems to be working - the duergar are tough foes and don't take gruff from outsiders.
In return for his brutal lordship, the power extend some benefits to his people. He shows them how to create magical weapons, even though dwarves don't usually use such items, and he protects them and their communities when it seems like they're being kept down by other forces.
His realm's called Hammergrim, a harsh place on the second layer of Acheron. It's a gray land of cheerless toil and constant work, and the duergar fight harder and harder to make their realm profit and grow. 'Course, in the confines of Acheron, that's sodding hard work, and it's unlikely they're going to succeed. Chant is that Laduguer wants to toughen the duergar as much and as fast as possible; it seems mostly like he's trying to exterminate them. (Some whisper that the god bitterly regrets abandoning the rest of the pantheon and takes it out on his worshippers.)
Most of Laduguer's proxies roam the Prime, where they try to lead duergar clans to glory. But Hammergrim knows only one proxy: High Chieftain Rathgar. He's said to be in charge of making sure the realm runs smoothly when Laduguer's away, and it's a sure bet that Rathgar knows the dark of the place like no one else. He's grim and gloomy, but with an unexpected charity. If a sod needs help and doesn't ask for it, chances are Rathgar'll give him a hand. But the proxy hates berks who whine or plead or complain - such weaklings get nothing.