Belgrim Deepdelve - The Svirfneblin
“Stone has a memory, boy. You just have to listen long enough that it forgets you’re not part of it.”
Role in Its Society:
Belgrim Deepdelve is the quiet backbone and hidden blade of a svirfneblin enclave carved into a honeycomb of gem-veined caverns. Officially, he is the Gem-Warden—responsible for mapping, guarding, and wisely harvesting the crystal seams that keep his people fed, clothed, and traded with. Unofficially, he’s the one who decides who ever gets to find the enclave in the first place.
Within his community, Belgrim:
- Directs mining operations, ensuring gem veins are exploited carefully rather than stripped bare.
- Oversees a lattice of illusory tunnels and false fronts that hide the enclave from drow, duergar, and worse.
- Trains a small cadre of scouts and wardens in stealth, stone-sense, and subtle illusion.
To outsiders who encounter him in the wild Underdark, he’s “just another grubby rock-gnome with more dust than manners.” But those who follow him unknowingly soon realize he’s leading them where he wants them—into dead ends, ambushes, or, very rarely, sanctuary.
Belgrim is more “denizen” than “overlord,” yet within the boundaries of his enclave’s glittering domain, his word about stone, routes, and security is effectively law.
Appearance Description:
Belgrim is small even by deep gnome standards, compact and wiry, with rock-gray skin mottled in darker patches that help him blend into stone. Fine wrinkles trace from the corners of his sharp, bright eyes—eyes the color of smoky quartz with flecks of amber when they catch the light.
His hair is a wild, wiry halo of pale stone-dust gray, kept short except for a few stubborn curls that never quite stay down. His beard is neatly braided into two tight cords, each threaded with tiny chips of gemstone—amethyst, garnet, and quartz—worn as both decoration and emergency spell components.
He wears layered, dust-stained leathers in shades of slate and brown, fitted with extra pockets and loops for tools: chisels, magnifiers, chalk sticks, gem picks, and a collapsible probe rod. Over that, he dons a short, hooded cloak cut from rock-camouflage cloth that seems to blur slightly at the edges in dim light.
His hands are calloused and permanently dusted with mineral sheen. When he pauses, he often rests one palm flat against nearby stone, fingers splayed, as if feeling for a pulse. A small, faintly glowing crystal shard—no bigger than a thumb—hangs on a cord around his neck, pulsing softly when he’s agitated or concentrating.
Backstory:
Belgrim was born in the aftershock of a catastrophe. His enclave had recently survived a devastating attack by drow raiders that collapsed half their main caverns, burying families and gem-veins alike. As the survivors dug themselves out, the elders swore never to be caught so exposed again.
From his earliest years, Belgrim was taught that survival meant vanishing into the stone:
- He learned to navigate collapsed shafts and tight crevices before he could read.
- He practiced standing motionless for hours while elders tried—and failed—to spot him against rock walls.
- He trained under illusionists who specialized in making tunnels look like solid stone, or making solid stone look like bottomless pits.
As he grew, Belgrim showed a rare talent for “listening” to the stone. He could tap a wall and tell if a vein ran deeper, or feel the subtle tremors of a distant collapse long before others noticed. When a rival Underdark faction began pushing into their territory, he designed a network of false tunnels and decoy pockets that lured invaders into dead ends and unstable chambers while the real enclave shifted deeper.
Belgrim’s crowning achievement was the Vanishing Season: over a span of months, he orchestrated the slow relocation of the entire settlement, one family and one tunnel at a time, to a new, better-defended gem field. When the drow finally launched their grand assault, they shattered illusions, triggered traps, and collapsed empty caves. The enclave was already gone—watching from behind solid rock.
For that, the elders named him Gem-Warden, granting him authority over where and how their people dig and where their illusions fall. Belgrim accepted the title with a shrug and a mutter, but he carries the responsibility like stone on his back—and woe to anyone who tries to threaten “his people” without expecting the rock itself to lie to them.
