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Brauzeit 28,2489 IC
A small group of dawi was forming, putting on their armor and handing out dawi arquebuses to each of its members. They were going to accompany us. There were no more than ninety of them, but dawi are very dangerous warriors.
While I was busy bathing in beastmen blood, the dawi had arrived from other fortresses, minor clans that barely made it into the respectable category, since of the several clans that came to settle in the karak, only three had a runic smith. Of nearly eighty minor clans that arrived at this karak, they added up to around a thousand dawi, doubling the population of Durin's clan.
They had been preparing for our arrival, trying to gather as much runic weaponry as possible to follow us into battle. Not only to receive human help in recovering their fortresses, but because many clans were attracted by the idea that, in the past, Durin's clan's karak mined gromril, a very valuable dawi metal for making armor and powerful runes. So many clans had already arrived for that reason and, for the moment, were helping to rebuild the karak, expanding parts of the fortifications and digging over the mountain. It was time to see if it was possible to recover another fortress, and with some luck, one that had gromril. As a friend of the clan, I might get an armor and one of those valuable veins just for helping... but first, we had to find it, if there was anything left.
"Durin, everything good for our march?" I asked the dawi who had put on his full runic armor and was grabbing his axe and shield, ready to accompany us.
"Yes, dawongi, everything's ready for us to march. I would've liked to help with more men, but my clan doesn't have many warriors, and the minor clans that joined us are mostly miners, not warriors. We'll do everything we can to help," said Durin, raising his axe.
"Then let's go now. I've got everything on my end... we have enough lead for each of my musketeers to have a hundred shots, enough powder to spend liberally, and supplies for two months of campaigning. God willing, that won't be the case," I said with a smile.
"We've got our stuff ready, dawongi. Let's go," said Durin.
With that, we began to venture into the depths of the great road that connected Durin's clan's karak with tunnels dug by ancient generations of dawi. They were filled with crystals that emitted a faint natural light, allowing us to proceed without the need for torches.
Thus began the march of five thousand humans and the dawi contingent, following the tunnels.
Along the way, we found all kinds of statues, but the paths were empty. Occasionally, we came across what seemed to be small dawi storerooms, completely empty of anything valuable that they may have once contained. Still, we kept moving forward without issues, discovering more and more of the long tunnel. The tunnels were enormous… only the gods know how the dawi took the time to dig these, especially since they decorated the walls where they mined. Even using my magic to try to detect something, I only felt the tunnel stretching beyond the limits of my sensitivity within the mines.
After what felt like an eternity of marching, we finally reached a fork.
"Considering where we entered... that tunnel leads toward Helmgart... and the other toward Marienburg. Durin, do you know anything about where the next karak of your clan might be?" I asked the dawi.
"According to the little information I have left from my clan, there was a karak toward Helmgart that was used as a commercial outlet toward the umgi lands of the Empire and the Bretonians. Toward Marienburg, there were most of my clan's old karaks," Durin replied.
"In Bretonnian territory, there are gold mines... I don't know if you're interested in checking if there's a gold mining area near the karak of Helmgart," I asked.
"It's a possibility… but it would be better to try upward. There we might find something more important, like lost information from my clan," said Durin.
"Alright, then let's keep going," I said, and we began walking again, this time eastward, toward the Wastelands.
After another long stretch of walking, I finally began to feel something. The closer we got, the clearer the shape became in front of me: a large dawi fortress. I could also feel hidden voids between the walls—clearly dawi secret chambers—but what stood out the most was the immense amount of iron and steel fragments trapped in the stone, as if the walls themselves were filled with metal.
We continued until we reached the karak. The gates were shattered, collapsed on the ground. We quickly entered in a tight formation, with pikes at the ready and shields up. As we advanced, we found huge piles of waste, trash accumulated in all corners of the fortress. The air was filled with the smell of rot, excrement, and dried blood.
And then we heard it.
"WAAAAAAAAGH," a voice roared from inside the karak.
"WAAAAAAAAGH," more voices repeated, louder, closer. The metallic echo of weapons clashing began to rumble through the tunnels. I could feel it: axes, maces, hammers... clashing against each other. It didn't take long for us to realize what was happening.
In a large hall, orks were in the midst of a chaotic battle between themselves. They hadn't noticed us. They were killing each other, laughing, hitting, tearing apart. They were completely absorbed in their own frenzy.
We remained completely silent.
As long as they kept killing each other, the better. The fewer left standing, the easier it would be to eliminate them and take control of the karak. So we waited. My men kept their pikes forward, standing firm, not moving a step while the orks continued to charge at each other with a brutality that seemed endless. More and more green skins arrived, shouting, rushing into the fight with no order, no discipline. It was total madness.
It felt like an eternity.
My soldiers even held their breath to avoid being detected. Finally, the screams began to subside. The sound of combat gradually faded. The clamor of metal diminished. I could tell that there were few left holding weapons; many were wounded, gasping, covered in the blood of their own comrades.
Then, we stepped forward.
We made noise deliberately.
The orks raised their heads when they heard us. A few peered out of the tunnel and, upon seeing us, let out a war cry and charged with wide grins, convinced it would be a good fight. But all they found was a deafening volley.
Dozens of musket shots pierced them before they could even reach the line of combat. They fell one after the other, riddled with bullets, while they continued entering willingly into our perfect kill zone. The line held firm. And the ground began to fill with green corpses.
With enough musketeers to maintain a constant rotation, we managed to contain and eliminate most of the greenskins. Once they stopped coming, we advanced into the main hall of the karak. It was enormous, completely covered with ork bodies, piled one on top of the other to the ceiling.
From there, a deep cleaning began. Many of the remaining greenskins had scattered and hidden in far-off areas of the karak when they realized we were too many for them and they had no way of stopping us.
The dawi took the lead, guiding small groups of musketeers through the corridors. They went from room to room, eliminating any orks still hiding. It wasn't a quick operation, but it was meticulous. By the time we finished, the karak was completely secured. It wasn't a difficult fight; the dawi had done most of the work. We only had to sweep up the remains.
With much effort, we began to move the bodies into a large room where, based on the way the air circulated, the ancient forge of the fortress must have been. We took advantage of the ventilation there to burn the orks and prevent their bodies from releasing spores.
"Such stupid Thagoraki… But that's what makes them so dangerous: their stupidity makes them incapable of feeling fear," said Duran, watching the piles of burning bodies.
"This is a great stroke of luck for us. We recovered a karak by killing only a few dozen Thagoraki… Not like the other one, where I had to eliminate thousands of goblins and those damn giant spiders. Those things were truly horrible," I said, looking at the blackened remains.
"We still have to check more levels, dawongi. Only the ancestors know what awaits us below… and then we need to search if my ancestors left us something worthy to continue with the glorious rebirth of our lineage," said Duran in a solemn voice.
"Sure," I replied without mentioning that I didn't feel any movement beyond us. I was completely sure that there was no one left alive inside the karak.
So we continued the exploration.
We descended through the multiple levels of the dawi fortress. We found the cemeteries of clan members who were not of the thane's direct lineage; they were completely looted. Further down, we discovered the ancient mushroom farms, though from Duran's reaction, they didn't seem to be the mushrooms the dawi usually cultivated: they were probably greenskin mushrooms.
The armories were empty. The stores were filled with garbage and junk. We passed by rooms with broken statues, others with destroyed dwarf carvings, and finally reached the room of the former lord of the karak… completely torn apart.
We kept searching.
That's when I noticed something strange: a room with no minerals around it. The rock was different, more uniform, as if intentionally crafted. I knew right away. It was a secret dawi chamber.
"Duran… look what I found," I said while placing my hand on an ancient rune.
The stone glowed upon contact. The rune reacted to my touch, and slowly, the wall began to open.
Duran came running with some of his warriors at the commotion, and they were fascinated to know that there were areas that the greenskins hadn't been able to loot. As we descended, we found tombs, similar to those in the first karak, but this room was much larger, with multiple tombs, and I noticed there were books on shelves.
Duran began laughing like a little child and started reading with great speed.
"Does it say something interesting? I see you're so absorbed in those books," I asked the dawi who hadn't stopped reading since we arrived.
"Ah dawongi… these books contain information about my lineage… many of the arts of stoneworking and blacksmithing are here…" said the dawi, trying to prevent me from reading.
"Bah, don't worry, Duran. I can't read Khazalid," I said, raising my hands.
"Ah… of course, good point," said the dawi.
Duran kept reading for what seemed like an eternity until he began to yawn repeatedly. With no signs of the sun or moon, it was hard to tell if it was bedtime or not.
Finally, the dawi closed the books.
"Let's go, dawongi. I think I know where my clan's gromril mines are," said Duran.
We went back down to the lower levels of the dawi fortress to an area with a long corridor where Duran placed his hand and another secret door opened.
It revealed a tunnel that went directly downward. We descended the tunnel, going down carved stone steps until we reached what appeared to be a mine.
Duran began running his hand over a kind of mineral slowly.
"Gromril," said Duran, passing his hand over the mineral, too happy.
I began to sense the gromril vein… and it was small… very small… there was almost nothing left… now, how do I explain to the dawi that barely any gromril remained from his ancestors?
Expanding my senses a little more and recognizing the signal from the mineral, I noticed that there were other areas with the same mineral.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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