'Amgarrak! Amgarrak!' roared Lord Thurin Arekan as he felt a heavy impact upon his Dragonthorn Targe. Burning, Darkspawn blood stained his ornate rune-inscribed, Dragonbone dwarven massive armor, his fine elvish sword, Urist easily decapitated a Genlock as more if its kin took its place. Twin Paragon runes of Silverite were embedded upon the elegant blade's jewelled hilt, making the blade especially deadly towards Darkspawn and a third Rune of Momentum increased his agility.
The Deep Roads tunnel had become an abattoir as the battalion of Warrior Caste soldiers sworn to House Arekan formed a wall of shields. Dwarven archers had taken up position in the rear; they fired volleys of arrows over the shield wall, aiming for the Darkspawn at the back. It was a battle of attrition between the Dwarves of Orzammar and their ancient enemies but if there was one thing the Dwarva had learned over generations of bitter warfare was that their enemies could always afford such losses.
Their situation would have been a grim one in most circumstances but this time, the dwarves had with them something to easily turn the tides of battle.
'Amgarrak!' he repeated again as Urist split another skull in twain. Thurin had adopted a somewhat tiring stance which allowed him to project an air of insolence; his presence drew the attentions of the Darkspawn, driving them to focus their efforts solely upon him instead of his warriors while at the same time, he served as a beacon of courage for the dwarves. An arrow shattered upon his breastplate over where his right collarbone should have been, the impact staggered him, fouling a sword thrust aimed at the gut of a Genlock.
A waraxe then slammed painfully upon his right pauldron, the imbued Dragonbone plates held but the bone-crunching force of it sent waves of pain into his arm. Through sheer strength of will, he held on to Urist and before he could repay his attacker, another waraxe, one of dwarven craftsmanship, was buried into the creature's neck. Immediately switching targets, he blocked a mace blow from a Hurlock and he countered with a blade thrust up its ugly maw.
Twin mighty roars then echoed from across the hall and dwarves instinctively knew what sort of foe could make such noise. 'Ware the Ogres!' shouted one of the Warriors as five horned giants clad in thick plates barged through the Darkspawn horde like charging Bronto. The mere sight of the armored beasts would have worried most dwarven warriors who were not of the Legion of the Dead but Lord Thurin's expedition was ready for them.
'Grenadiers! Attend!' ordered Lord Thurin and the order was repeated by a dwarf behind him and soon several specially trained, lightly armored dwarves came up behind the wall of shields, each carrying explosive phials concocted by the Poison-Makers which served his House like many others among the courts of Orzammar. Some also carried a particularly deadly new weapon they had found called Cinderblast Bombs which instead of using alchemical liquids placed inside glass containers, were composed of metal containers filled with a black powder, metal fragments and placed upon rods which would be hurled like a stick which also had some sort of ring attached to cord.
They had recently acquired these devices along with several other powerful yet unusual weapon from another equally odd dwarf who clearly came from some foreign realm. Clad in his own strange style of massive armor with the color of blued steel and bronze, the warrior named Dorandor Ironheart had quickly been proving to be one of the best fighters in service to House Arekan and was greatly responsible for their recent successes in battle. Giving the Ogres time to get close, Thurin gave the order to throw and several grenades were sent sailing over their heads and explosions ripped among the Darkspawn lines.
Blasts of fire, frost, lightning and metal fragments slaughtered dozens of the closely packed Darkspawn but the Ogres of which were far tougher and better protected, were left grievously injured.
'Archers! Focus on the Ogres!' ordered Thurin and shortly afterwards, a volley of arrows and quarrels found their marks. There were also several loud cracks as well for aside from the Cinderblast Bombs, they had also found weapons somewhat similar to a crossbow but instead of a mechanical bow, it used a hollow metal tube placed upon a stock. Four of the beasts went down from the barrage while only survived with heavy injury and it pressed on in a maddened fury.
Stepping forward from the wall of shields, Thurin cut down another Genlock before severing the right arm of a Shriek that tried to stab him. Taking a deep breath, the dwarf lord released a loud war cry with such strength in his voice that Darkspawn were knocked down from their feet. He then moved into a sprint with shield raised, he smashed aside several Darkspawn, his momentum was such that when he came within range of the armored ogre, he leapt towards the charging horned monster.
The magic elf blade which had long served Thurin, glowed brightly as it also bore other enchantments which made it more potent and in one swift motion, the blade sliced through Ogre's armor. Urist bit deeply into the monster's flesh and the weight of the dwarf lord allowed him to knock his opponent on its back. When the back of the Ogre slammed upon the stone floor, Thurin quickly retracted his sword and as one last act of spite, he stabbed the Ogre in the right eye and instantly ending its life.
Waves of intense heat suddenly washed over the armored body of the dwarf lord as tongues of fire engulfed the Darkspawn around him; a Paragon Rune of Immunity protected him from the inferno as the beasts screamed in short-lived agony, their bodies were immediately reduced into piles of blackened bones. From among the Thurin's warriors, there came dwarves wielding more unusual weapon which the foreigner, Dorandor had called Drakeguns. More Darkspawn died beneath the flames as the warriors of House Arekan advanced, their boots crushed charred bones into ash and their weapons spilled the blood of those few that managed to get past the fires.
When Thurin had first set out from the gates of Orzammar to lead this expedition, he had known that the chances of success were slim at best but, he never would have that he they would actually have the odds in their favor, that the possibility of actually reaching the lost thaig alive and even reclaiming it from the Darkspawn was within their grasp. He had sacrificed so much time and money to get this expedition going and such was the stakes that the very survival of his House depended on success. He swore to the ancestors that he was not going to fail, not now, not when he knew deep within his heart that he was so very close to Arekan Thaig!
'Onwards brave dwarves! Onwards!' roared Lord Thurin as he pointed his sword towards the Darkspawn and he launched himself back into the fray. Such was the fury and the might of his host that soon, the Darkspawn horde which had been so eager to spill dwarf blood, had then turned tail and ran. As the monsters were routed, the dwarves gave pursuit, the warriors of Orzammar were filled with a righteous fury as they avenged the losses their people had endured for centuries.
A loud wet crack came from the skull of an orc-faced Darkspawn as the rune hammer of Dorandor Ironheart struck the tainted flesh. Blood and brain matter spattered the already filthy armour of the Ironbreaker he imagined that it bore the face of a damned thagorraki. He swore that when he gets back to Karaz Ankor, he was personally going to pen a grudge against the ratkin for this inconvenience.
Had the damned vermin not used, whatever cursed sorcery that sent him to this place, he would still be in Zhufbar and near a proper tavern with some real dwarf ale. Now here he was fighting gods knows whatever the hell these Darkspawn things were and drinking the worst beer he had ever tasted in his life. His only consolation was that he was in the company of other dwarfs which honestly was not even that comforting for he found many of their customs to be very strange and most spoke in a crude, mannish tongue which was oddly similar to that spoken by the barbarians of Albion.
The lordling leading this throng seemed like an honourable fellow at the least and any quest to reclaim lost dwarf settlements was always a respectable undertaking. It also gave him some comfort that the equipment from the Guild of Engineers warehouse was being put to good use, rather than in the claws of Skaven who would only cause mischief with such things. He could not imagine that the Endrinkuli would be too happy that their machines were suddenly in the hands of those not initiated in their ways but, well as needs must he supposed.
He owed it to these other dwarfs to see that their mission was a success for had it not been for their timely arrival, he would likely have been overwhelmed by the Darkspawn. When Dorandor had arrived in this other place, the first thing that greeted him was darkness and an entire horde of the damned monsters bearing on him like gors on a rampage. Once he finished aiding them though and that his debt of honour was repaid, he would head out and find whichever way led back to Karaz Ankor.
Lifting up his hammer, he went back to making sure that the vile monsters truly were dead by giving each one a sharp kick to the ribs and if it so much as breathed, he would crack its head open. It was grim, bloody work but a necessary one after a battle for like the hated greenskins, these Darkspawn things seemed to also possess powerful regenerative properties. The other dwarfs of the Throng were already busy preparing pyres for the dead monsters and after he butchered a few more monsters, he removed a hook from his belt and he stabbed a dead darkspawn in the roof of its mouth before dragging it with him.
'Need a hand with that?' asked a voice from behind him and the Ironbreaker immediately faltered in his step as his cheeks became flushed with red. Looking over his shoulder, he He beheld the face of a comely rinn battle maiden dressed in a suit of heavy mail armour from some silvery metal that looked liked elven Ithilmar which sported a single large pauldron and upon her back was a heavy battleaxe of the same material that rested upon the warrior woman's back.
'I can manage' replied Dorandor while suddenly trying to put up a more stoic demeanour.
'As you wish' nodded the battle maiden as she rejoined the other dwarfs of the Throng.
Another most unusual custom of these other dwarfs he thought was that aside from having no qualms about shaving and beardlessness, they actually brought their women to battle! Such a thing would only happen in the most dire of circumstances among the Dawi and even then, that would be a tough to consider last resort. And yet he could clearly see that among the throng there were many a rinn who marched into battle along with the male dwarfs.
He must truly be in some faraway realm for there to be dwarfs like this. What next he thought, a trustworthy elf? Oh that would be one worthy of one an Empire penny dreadful.
Dragging the body with him and towards a waiting corpse pile, a faint peal was then heard in the distance and the throng immediately became alert.
'To arms!' shouted another dwarf and weapons that had just been cleaned of blood were swiftly drawn. Abandoning the corpse, the Ironbreaker joined the now forming phalanx of heavy infantry. Taking up position at the front of the regiment, he looked to the fully armoured dwarf next to him.
'Darkspawn?' asked Dorandor as he set himself into a defensive stance.
'Aye' nodded the other warrior whose face was concealed behind a full helmet and eyes set in a grim expression. 'War horn, looks like the bastards want to have another go at us.'
'Ready weapons!' ordered the voice of Lord Thurin from nearby and several dwarfs came forward, armed with grenades, Drakeguns and Muskets.
Dorandor was somewhat pleased that these other dwarfs, despite being completely ignorant about Thrunds and other black powder weapons, had been quick to properly use what he had taught them. Like a professional regiment of Thunderers, their archers of whom had originally been trained to wield both bow and crossbow, had formed a gun line with the barrels pointed ahead. Stocks were places upon shoulders as those at the front ranks knelt and those at the back had handguns in the open spaces between the heads of the second ranks.
From the tunnel ahead, a horde of Darkspawn surged forward like a living tide and the dwarfs made ready.
'Archers!' commanded the Lord and arrows were knocked from behind the dwarfs at the front and on came the monstrous horde. 'Loose!' followed up the Lord and death was rained upon the horde. Bodies fell by the dozens, they were thoughtlessly trampled upon by the kin behind them and after a few more yards, handguns cracked, filling the air with acrid smoke and brief tongues of fire. The hail of bullets cut down the Darkspawn like wheat before a scythe and the ranged troops at the front passed their spent guns to those behind them before pulling out loaded crossbows.
'Fire at will!' came the command again and the Darkspawn suffered terribly. It was almost impossible to miss with so many bodies crammed into the tunnel and more than a few of the things ended up tripping over their own dead. Dorandor also noticed that the Quarrelers of the throng also aimed for the feet of the Darkspawn, their shoots painfully rooted the creatures in place and further slowing down the horde's progress.
By the time the Darkspawn came dangerously close to the dwarf lines, the phalanxes of shield bearers parted ways to allow the ranged troops who had taken position at the front to vacate and the gaps were quickly filled. Carefully placing his Rune Hammer upon a leather loop on the side of his belt, the Ironbreaker drew one of his two Drakepistols.
Levelling the heavy dragon-headed gun towards the horde, he waited for them to get in range and after a few seconds, he pressed the trigger. Searing alchemical fire leapt from the barrel of his gun, incinerating four Darkspawn before switching to his second Drakepistol. Once both weapons were spent, he holstered them and drew his bloodied hammer.
'Khazukan Khazakit-ha!' defiantly shouted the Ironbreaker as one of the orc-faced beasts came at him with a vile-looking mace. Before the thing could even swing its weapon at him, Dorandor's hammer struck its face with the force of a cannonball and splattering bits of it all over him.
Just as before, the horde crashed against the sturdy wall of shields which held and as the beasts battered against the enduring bulwark that was the dwarfs, groups of grenadiers moved into place. Once the press of bodies became thick in front of the shield wall, death soared over the heads of the phalanx and into the midst of the Darkspawn. The bloody ruin left by the dwarfs made this fight nothing more than a runk, a one sided slaughter as the monsters did nor bring any spellcasters nor did they bring the horned giants which the other dwarfs insisted were Ogres.
The Darkspawn this time did not run and rather, Dorandor noticed something off about the way the creatures were fighting. In his more than two centuries worth of experience fighting the enemy's of dwarf-kind, he had learned to tell the difference when an enemy fights with genuine savage ferocity or with one born of desperation. Slamming his shield into the chest of a tall manling-sized Darkspawn, the creature was knocked back and then mercilessly cut down by another similar monster.
The massacre did not last long as the Darkspawn died in droves before the well disciplined dwarf throng and when the final one fell, a tense silence fell upon them. Hundreds of eyes were focused on the way ahead of them, the dwarfs cautiously waited to see if more Darkspawn approached. Dorandor narrowed his eyes the moment he caught movement in the darkness and amidst the smell of blood, spilled guts and burnt flesh, he picked up a scent which plunged him into the blackest of moods as it caused old racial memories to emerge unbidden with in his mind.
Several dozens of lumbering forms appeared across the horizon, each was a massive brute clad in thick plates and wielding heavy blades or bludgeons. Red eyes numbering in the hundreds looked upon the dwarf throng with bloodthirsty eagerness, their hunger merely whetted by the Darkspawn. At the front of this opposing army came one warrior who like Dorandor, wore a horned helmet, its skin was almost the colour if pitch black and it carried a massive hammer which gleamed with a green light.
The warlord then knocked its head back and it gave one loud, bestial roar which was soon mirrored by those it led. Their voices shook the earth itself as the dwarfs remained steadfast and like a stampede, it began.
Soon the Deep Roads became an abbatoir once more as the two forces met, two tides furious of iron-clad juggernauts crashed and amidst the din of battle, amidst the clashing of steel, the screams and desperate orders, a single great war cry drowned out all others...
The cry of WAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!