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Kaldezeit 27-28,2489 IC
"New grievances, my friend," I said, looking at Duran, who sat on a bronze throne adorned with gold and jewels, writing intently in a great book.
"Ah, dawongi… to what do I owe the honour of having you in my home?" Duran said, setting the book aside and coming over to give me one of those handshakes that nearly broke my fingers.
"Look, the thing is, the Bretonnians recently tried to attack my lands by surprise, but failed. Everything suggests this won't stop; on the contrary, they may well keep trying, since their so-called deity tells them I'm a danger and must be killed," I explained.
Duran frowned deeply. "Those umgi… never leaving you in peace." He stopped, sighed, and pressed his lips together before continuing. "I wish I could help, dawongi… truly. But I don't have enough warriors for that. I will put their names in my Dammaz Kron, so that in the future, when we have the strength, we can act." He shook his head.
"Don't worry, I don't need direct intervention from the dawi. But considering that my mountain stronghold is nearly finished—according to the engineer, in little time it will be ready for my warriors to inhabit—I'll need the bridge to the west fortified with a dawi stronghold, and small positions built to station quick-reaction troops and detect incursions more swiftly… Also, is the cannon I requested ready yet?" I asked, without much concern.
"Of course, more work will always be welcome, dawongi. But unfortunately, only one of your orders has been completed. The organ guns you requested… one has been finished. At the moment, the runesmiths are fully focused on creating weapons and tools with the gromril, so their work has been delayed. Everything you request requires runes, since your powder is so powerful it demands the finest materials and inscriptions to withstand its full force. For now, I have only one to show you," Duran replied.
"That's excellent. One will be more than enough; I'm going to use it, because I plan to go into Bretonnia through the dawi tunnels… of course, if you have no objection. And, if possible, I want to clear every dawi karak we find along the way. Obviously, there's the possibility that the Bretonnians may try to use the same tunnels to counter-attack… so my idea is to leave about two thousand militiamen with you to defend them, creating small blocking points in the galleries," I explained.
"Of course, my dawongi, I could not deny you passage through my clan's tunnels, especially with the help you offer. But one thing… umgi do not fare well living underground. I've seen the Imperial ambassador to Karak Norn and his men slowly lose their wits during their stay in their quarters… I worry for your warriors," said Duran.
"Yes, I know. That's why my plan is to rotate them: no more than a week at a time in position, with frequent reliefs, so they don't fall into that madness," I replied with a smile.
"If that's the case, I have no objections, my dawongi. If there's anything else I can do for you, tell me," Duran said.
"Of course. I'll make sure my men don't offend yours, and I'll make it clear to them how they are to behave with your warriors. Before departing, I'll leave two garrisons of a thousand men each guarding the tunnels. It would be very helpful if you could build smaller fortifications within them, so they can be reinforced," I proposed.
"I'll see to it, my dawongi," Duran replied.
"Any discovery, I'll let you know, my friend. I'll go prepare everything. Have the organ gun ready; I'll depart as soon as possible," I said, taking my leave as I walked toward the exit of the karak.
Since I first had to clear the possible route into Bretonnia, I quickly assembled my personal army and loaded several carts with the supplies needed to establish camps within the great mining tunnels of the dawi. This time I brought the two thousand militiamen I would be leaving in those tunnels. Their stay would be rotational, to prevent the lack of sunlight and sense of time from affecting their minds. I made it very clear that they were to avoid speaking to the dawi and, above all, never make remarks about their height; if they did, they should not be surprised if someone literally lost their head for calling a dawi "small" or "short." They were to treat them with respect at all times.
With seven thousand men, we marched into the mountains once more. We took the dawi cannon I had requested: a machine with four barrels that fired lead fragments bound with strips of cloth, capable of shredding anything in their path. Though reloading could be tedious—having to charge all four barrels—the weapon was harnessed to a horse like a plough and taken with us.
At the first fork we left the first thousand men to guard the passage, to prevent any surprises, and continued to the second dawi karak. The place already showed signs of repair thanks to the work of the master craftsmen, at least on the exterior.
After leaving the second garrison there, we continued our advance. We found numerous dawi miners extracting ore; in many areas the silver was already exhausted, but they worked the gromril with great care, transporting it in rune-sealed chests before sending it to the runesmiths. We pressed on without stopping, making use of every moment before fatigue caught up with us.
Finally we reached the last discovered karak, where the tunnel split into four routes. We left a small force of five hundred men to temporarily occupy Duran's abandoned stronghold and raise some defensive structure with the timber we had brought.
The rest of us entered the tunnel leading toward Bretonnia. After a day of rest to avoid fighting while fatigued, we resumed the march. We had no sense of the hour, without seeing the sun, but everyone was ready.
We advanced through vast mining tunnels, inspecting carefully. Using my magic, I could feel that the area was incredibly rich in minerals—iron, tin, copper, silver, platinum… and, above all, an immense vein of gromril. It seemed to lie just beneath something even more important: a massive dawi fortress.
It was far larger than any of the other karaks I had seen. The other fortifications seemed tiny in comparison, and the further we advanced, the more I could sense that the structure kept expanding within the mountain.
But what also unsettled me was the enormous amount of metal movement I could detect inside. It easily numbered in the thousands… and they probably outnumbered us alarmingly.
I ordered my men to march in formation until we found a position we could easily defend. I began to notice an increase in rubbish on the ground and, knowing our enemies' habits, it was clear this was the work of greenskins. I hoped it was one of the smaller, more cowardly breeds.
We kept moving until we reached a section of tunnel that opened onto a raised area, from which we could see the passage descending toward the entrance of a great karak—much larger than I had expected, and without doubt what Duran had been seeking.
We immediately took the best defensive position in the area and set up camp at the top of the slope. We worked hastily on fortifications: if every greenskin inside poured out at once, we would need divine favour to survive.
Construction began on a palisade and firing platforms to make the most of the high ground. The dawi cannon was emplaced at the top, ready to fire without pause. We used every resource we had to gain the maximum possible advantage.
Halfway through the work, the gates of the karak began to open. They were nothing more than crude planks of wood and iron lashed together to seal what had once been a sturdy fortress. From the gap, hordes of goblins began spilling out, followed by orcs who occasionally struck them for sport.
"Someone take a shot at them. Get their attention," I ordered one of my musketeers watching the greenskins from the line.
A shot rang out in the tunnel, though the ball fell short of the target. It didn't matter—it was enough to make every greenskin look our way.
"WAAAAAAAAAAGH!" the orcs roared, charging straight for our positions. The goblins, hesitant at first, soon followed in a suicidal rush.
"Musketeers!" I shouted. A long line of shooters adjusted their ear protection and aimed down the tunnel.
As the greenskins closed the distance, the first volley thundered. Some shots missed, but many found their mark, dropping orcs who went down after taking multiple hits. The goblins, for their part, collapsed from the first bullet to strike them.
The firing went on for several minutes until the entire group was wiped out. A handful of goblins turned and fled back into the fortress in terror.
"They know we're here now. Finish building quickly," I ordered my men, keeping my eyes on the scene, with the dawi organ gun ready to open fire.
The work sped up as we drove stakes into the tunnel floor to reinforce the defences on the rocky ground. The soldiers worked with impressive speed—but another force was approaching… a mass of goblins even larger than before, accompanied by a smaller number of orcs, who charged almost immediately.
The men dropped their tools and rushed to man the elevated firing positions with their muskets, while others formed a front line with pikes and halberds.
"Damn it, they're everywhere!" one musketeer shouted.
"Then shoot at anything that moves!" another barked back.
The first volleys cut down dozens of greenskins. Goblins and orcs fell forward, lead tearing through them. Seeing them bunching up, I turned the organ gun toward them and fired.
The metallic roar shook the entire tunnel. Hundreds of goblins died instantly, some orcs laughing at the slaughter—until they too dropped under musket fire.
With the help of several men, we reloaded the cannon as fast as possible—clearing the barrels, recharging the powder, and loading the shot. As soon as it was ready, we fired again. This time, dozens of orcs fell at once, along with hundreds more goblins shredded by the blast.
We kept up a relentless barrage, reloading as quickly as we could against the oncoming green tide.
Shot after shot, dozens fell until they finally crashed into our lines. The pikemen were the first to take the brunt of the orc charge—leaping fearlessly onto the pikes, impaling themselves but breaking many in the process.
At once, I began reinforcing my men's weapons and armour with my magic, so they could better withstand the orcish impact.
Without pausing my fire, I swung the organ gun toward a section where hundreds were gathering and unleashed another volley. Again, a storm of shot swept away hundreds of greenskins in a single blast from the four barrels.
At last, after suffering enormous casualties, the goblins began to flee, followed closely by the orcs who managed to escape the slaughter. We kept firing while they were still within range of the shot.
The ground was carpeted with nearly a thousand corpses from a relatively short fight. We wasted no time—reinforcing the position at once—but before we were finished, more orcs poured out of the karak, followed by an even greater wave of goblins.
"This one's going to be tough…" I muttered, watching the immense number of orcs emerging from the dawi fortress.
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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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