Amidst the echoing halls of the dwarven strongholds, a mage of stone and sky stands firm, their beard whipping about in the tempest they command. With a spellbook bound in dwarven steel, its pages infused with ancient runes, they conjure storms with a mere flick of their hand, leaving all who witness in awe of their mastery. What ancestral knowledge of tempestmagic do they draw upon to defend their kin?
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