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Brauzeit 29,2489 IC
While my men rested after inspecting the karak dawi, I kept watch for them. Losing hours of sleep didn't bother me; I was focused on charting a map of the nearby mineral veins. Such a thing would earn us the favour of our dwarf allies and, with luck, attract more of them. Costly labour, yes, but competent—perfect for work where quality mattered above all, no matter the expense.
Underground, it was impossible to tell the hour without a damned clock, and the lack of any reference gnawed at me. Pleasant as it was to feel the Winds of Chamon flowing through the minerals around us, the disorientation caused by the absence of light was maddening.
I was leaning over the parchment, marking the most promising veins with a piece of charcoal, when something caught my attention. A metallic sound. A rhythmic clinking, like mail cinched tight at the waist, accompanied by the soft tapping of daggers knocking against their sheaths.
"Too slender for a dawi… too small for a greenskin," I thought, noticing that the pieces of metal were moving quickly. Whoever carried them ran as though fire burned in its gut.
I tracked the presence for minutes, feeling it draw nearer. Then, from the shadows, two sickly red eyes fixed on me. In less than a heartbeat, a metallic projectile shot toward my chest, bouncing off the steel plate of my breastplate. The figure did not stop—it leapt with unnatural agility, both daggers aimed at my neck.
I managed to draw my sword just in time. When it tried to cut me, its dagger dissolved into a viscous, grey mass before it could touch my flesh; the metal liquefied under my control, sliding down its hand and clinging to the fur. The skaven snarled in confusion and tried to stab at my face with the other hand, but the same thing happened—the blade melted into metallic sludge that dripped onto my cuirass.
It didn't relent. From its tail, it launched a third strike—a curved dagger aimed at my flank. The blade dissolved like the others. That was my moment. I seized its leg and dragged it to the ground.
It was fast, twisting and kicking with claws and hind legs to break free. It rolled over to escape, but I was already upon it. I gripped its neck with both hands, quickly shifting my hold to its head, and drove my thumbs into its eyes.
The scream it released was high and piercing, echoing through the tunnel walls. I felt the elastic resistance of the eyeballs before they gave way under the pressure. A hot spray soaked my gauntlets. The skaven kicked and clawed at the ground, trying to tear me off, but I did not let go until its screams turned into a desperate gurgle.
I shoved it down, blind and convulsing, claws flailing for me. Without giving it a chance to recover, I raised my sword and brought it down hard. The blade bit through its neck with a wet crack; the head rolled a few steps before lying still. The body kept twitching for a few seconds, shaking like a freshly slaughtered beast, until it finally lay still, bleeding onto the stone.
The stench of skaven blood hit my nose, filling me with disgust for the filth that had attacked me. Looking closer, now calmer after the sudden strike, I realised it was likely one of their assassins—Probably a servant of some member of the Council of Thirteen. That meant there had to be a skaven settlement nearby, and that was far from good news.
While I considered this, some dawi came looking for me, drawn by the painful shrieks the skaven had let out before dying as it deserved.
"Umgi," said one of the dawi from Duran's allied clans. "…a raki," the dwarf added, looking at me.
"I'm fine, you don't need to worry. Sleep well, dawi—seems like it was the only one," I replied, kicking the skaven's head.
"Where there's one raki, there are always more. A hundred or a thousand… umgi, these are dangerous foes for their numbers," said the dwarf.
"Understood. It came from that tunnel, so I assume there may be more that way."
The dawi nodded and returned to the karak. In the end, some guards relieved me from watch, though that didn't stop me from handing the map to Duran, passing it off as a skaven tunnel chart to avoid revealing my magical affinity.
"So, a raki attacked you on watch? Cowardly vermin, striking at my dawongi…," Duran said as he examined the parchment. "But it does look like a map made by those raki. Look at how awful the lines are—you can tell they can't even draw, the plagues that scourge the dawi."
"Yes… they don't seem that bad to me," I said, pressing my lips together as Duran mocked my sketches.
"Are you jesting, dawongi? Look at this mess—it's nothing but lines without pattern. Only the one who made it could understand it," Duran said, laughing at the drawings.
"I see," I answered with a false smile.
"But if the raki have tunnels here, we should inspect them. There might be valuable resources they're trying to exploit. And at the same time, we can block their movement routes so they can't overwhelm us with numbers, especially in a karak that's half-collapsed," Duran said, taking up his shield and axe to begin another day of fighting.
So, leaving a garrison of dawi and my men to start repairing the karak, we followed the path taken by the skaven assassin that had tried to end my life. My men asked why there were "beasts" underground… apparently, no one knew what a skaven was, mistaking it for a beastman.
Once again, the crystals lighting the way came into view, along with the dwarfen statues that changed design often. But that was all—just a long tunnel stretching straight into who knew where, until we found some smaller shafts that had clearly been mined by a race other than the dawi, judging by the clumsy, unsteady manner of their excavation.
"If the raki's map was correct, it marked something here," said Duran, stepping into the hole.
I stayed outside, avoiding any comment about the tunnel being too small for me—no need to offend the dawi. I waited until Duran and his men emerged again.
"Silver. Looks like there's a promising vein in there, so we'll have work ahead of us extracting it," Duran said.
We kept inspecting many of those tunnels, likely dug by goblins, finding copper, iron, and large quantities of coal. But what truly set the dawi alight with joy was a medium-sized vein of gromril. Their shouts of excitement echoed through the passage, and it wasn't hard to guess they were thanking their ancestors for such a find.
The path continued for quite a distance until it opened into a vast intersection. There, an old karak stood at the centre, splitting the route into four directions—one toward the Empire, another to Bretonnia, a third toward Marienburg, and the last descending further into the depths.
Upon entering, we found it completely empty. Yet there were signs that something had settled there long ago. It was impossible to tell what, as only small bones remained, shattered or ground to dust; there was no trace of flesh nor any clear indication of their origin.
"Four paths… and still no sign of my clan's main karak," Duran said, his voice heavy with frustration.
"I think we can still investigate further. We could establish an outpost here and explore the other paths," I suggested, studying the terrain.
"We can't be that aggressive, dawongi… I have barely ninety warriors. I cannot defend three karaks at once without risking the thagoraki endangering my family and allies. Pushing forward would be an unnecessary risk. We must fall back to our new find and wait. I can't ask your umgi to stay here guarding our karaks—umgi aren't made for life beneath the mountains. I'll settle for the previous karak, and wait for the gromril to draw in other clans or clanless dwarfs looking to join. With silver and gromril, few will be able to resist," Duran said, pressing his lips together.
I understood. We retraced our steps, returning by the same path we had taken in, reaching the newly discovered karak in short order. I would have liked the campaign to last longer, but the mountains seemed relatively quiet.
Most of Duran's warriors stayed in the new karak, while we set off toward the one at the exit near my mining town. After a long walk that wore down the legs, we arrived at the dwarf stronghold, where Duran announced what we had found.
The reaction was immediate: several minor clans, numbering around three hundred dawi, gathered their belongings and departed at once for the new karak to begin its reconstruction and restart mining operations for the coveted dwarf metal. The dawi were elated; another stronghold had been reclaimed, and the runesmiths were already debating what they would forge first with the gromril, speaking of inscribing it with the most powerful runes they knew.
But Duran looked troubled, and for an obvious reason. He had within reach the chance to reclaim more of his ancestors' glory, yet danger lingered. If I were away on campaign and the karak were attacked, it could all be lost in a single night. No one knows when an enemy will strike.
"Come now, my friend, don't look so grim… sooner or later we'll reclaim all your clan's holdings. It's only a matter of time. We must be patient, and eventually you'll have thousands of dawi in your lands, fighting by your side. When we start selling powder to every dawi karak, the gold will flow to you, and that wealth will draw your kin to you," I told the pensive Duran.
"It's vexing… have you ever been in a situation where you want to act, but can't because you lack the means to protect it?" Duran asked.
"Of course. I've had many problems like that. Look—send messengers to the dwarf karaks announcing we've found gromril. That should be enough to bring, with luck, a couple of thousand dawi from other strongholds next year. And I will always be offering work to your folk. That fortress and my laboratory may need expanding in the future," I said, patting his shoulder.
"Thank you, dawongi… it is good to have an umgi with honour nearby. Who knows what might have happened if you were like most, caring little for offending the dawi," said Duran.
"Speaking of work, Duran, I need cannons… I don't like to admit it, but I left the forests humiliated after my last hunt," I said, meeting his gaze.
"How…? You were defeated, dawongi?" the dwarf asked, startled.
"No, but I underestimated my enemy. Next time, I intend to go in with everything. You can kill hundreds, thousands… but their numbers are endless. I need cannons, preferably ones that can fire canister. If I return next year, I will leave that forest strewn with beastmen corpses, and this time I mean it. So tell me the price for some kind of cannon that can fire that shot quickly, and I'll pay you at once. By Sigmar, I won't let this slight to my honour go unanswered," I said, looking at Duran.
"Ha! A grievance over not being able to kill all your foes… extreme even for the dawi… but I like it. You have my help, dawongi," Duran said, walking toward the dawi ale.
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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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