WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. I HOPE NO ONE IS CLAUSTROPHOBIC.

There are few fates worse than being eaten alive. One of those is being eaten alive while being taken into a dark hole in the ground. Poor Shepard.

Honor-Bound

Chapter 12

War of the Peaks, Part 5

"Even after all these years, I still can't decide whether that woman was the luckiest or unluckiest person in the world."—King Belegar Ironhammer, regarding General Alexia Shepard

It was with mixed feelings that three armies entered the Citadel of Karak Eight Peaks. For the Dwarfs of Karak Azul, the battle outside had been a victory the likes of which hadn't been seen in years; thousands upon thousands of Goblins and Skaven were dead, losses on their own side had been minimal, and the Dwarf defenders were now highly unlikely to be dislodged. The Dwarfs from Barak Varr were slightly more subdued; while they were happy that they had helped win a major victory, they had lost nearly a thousand fighters, either from the trip to Karak Eight Peaks, or during the battle. Many grudges were already being written, though there would be plenty of opportunities to cross them out soon enough.

The Imperial forces, however, were led into the Citadel in a daze. Many men openly wept when they heard of Shepard's fate; others were in denial, and some had to be physically held back from running into the underground part of Karak Eight Peaks and taking out as many Goblins and Skaven as they could before dying.

Their allies from Barak Varr sympathized with them; many had come to respect the bravery Shepard had shown, and had been impressed at how respectful she'd been to them. Many of the Dwarfs had thought that she would be like many Imperial leaders—arrogant and unwilling to heed any advice but their own. It also didn't hurt that she used a hammer as well as any Dwarf.

While most of the Humans were taken to a section of the Citadel to rest and recuperate, the remaining leaders were brought to the throne room, to discuss what would happen next. Waiting for them was Morgrim, the only Dwarf who gave them anything more than a nod of acknowledgement. Alongside him were several other Lords and many Thanes, but the two most important Dwarfs were Thorek Ironbrow, Master Runelord of Karak Azul, and Belegar Ironhammer, King of Karak Eight Peaks.

Thorek Ironbrow was the leader of the Karak Azul army, and looked every bit the part. He was taller than the average Dwarf, though even when accounting for the horns mounted on his helm, he only barely reached the chests of most Humans. His armor was thick and heavy, though he moved as easily as if he wasn't wearing it; resting over one shoulder was a massive hammer, its head shaped like an anvil. His beard was long and white, divided into two separate braids; each braid was capped by a miniature hammer. The Runelord glanced at the Humans with a critical eye, as if every move they made had a fault that needed correcting.

Nearby, seated on a massive throne that was raised to let him observe everyone in the hall, was Belegar Ironhammer. At first glance, he would have been mistaken for an empty, albeit thick, suit of armor; the only part of his body that was visible was his white beard, which was tied into three braids and secured with gold, gem-studded clasps. Resting against one side of his throne was a simple-looking hammer, but the Wizards who entered the throne room could feel great power within it; the same could be said for the red, gold-chased shield that rested against the other side of the throne. Ironhammer truly looked the part of a warrior-king, ready to do whatever it took to achieve victory, even if it had to be done with his own hands.

Somewhat tiredly, the Humans knelt before the Dwarf ruler; before he left, Morgrim had warned the Humans to wait for King Ironhammer to address them. The bitter king could be cantankerous on a good day, and if the Humans wanted to still complete their mission, they would have to be respectful.

"So, you're the ones from the Empire," Belegar said gruffly. "I'm told you're looking for some magical something-or-other that ended up on my mountains."

When there was a pause, the Humans realized that that was their cue to plead their case. Locke, the most diplomatic of the group—and technically the highest-ranking man left—looked Belegar in the eye.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said. "Our Emperor, Karl Franz, sent us to retrieve this item before it fell into the hands of our enemies."

"Oh?" Belegar leaned forward, his hands now resting on his knees. "And what if this 'item' belongs to my people?"

Locke desperately wanted to look at Gettmann for some kind of confirmation, but that would be a sign of weakness. As such, he did the best he could.

"We are almost certain that this item, we are calling it a shard at the moment, was not made by your people. If it is, I am certain that the Emperor will request to at least study it for a time. If it was not made by your people, I am sure that we can all agree that keeping it away from the Goblins and the Skaven is a wise move."

On either side of him, Locke could feel both Michael and Richter tense. The former did so because the Emperor had promised no such thing when they left the Empire, and the thought of the bearer of Sigmar's hammer having to negotiate made the priest's blood boil. Richter tensed because Shepard had said almost the exact same thing when they had wondered how they would enter negotiations with the Dwarfs. The battle was only a few hours ago, and the pain of her loss was still fresh.

Thorek made a noise that sounded like he was clearing his throat. "I'll be the judge of that. King Belegar, if it isn't Dwarf-crafted, it would be better to have it out of our lands."

Many of the other Dwarfs, including Morgrim, nodded; it was no secret that they disliked anything magical that wasn't made by their hands.

Belegar mulled it over for a few minutes, and then scowled. "Your task is to find this 'shard' and take it away?"

Locke nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty; I and the others here will personally deal with any of our men who defy your laws and edicts."

That seemed to satisfy Belegar. "We'll work out the details tomorrow. For now, you may return to your soldiers; rest and mourn your dead."

Locke actually heard Richter grinding his teeth together; before he could stop him, the man raised his head.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty."

Belegar glared at Richter. "Yes, what do you want?"

Richter matched the Dwarf's hard stare. "Will there be no effort to rescue General Shepard?"

"The woman who led you?" Belegar glanced at Morgrim, who looked uncomfortable. "I heard that she was devoured by Skarsnik's pet; very few have survived such a fate."

"Still, we must try to save her!" Richter protested.

Save for Thorek, everyone jumped when Belegar slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne. "Your General is dead! Even if she somehow escaped the Squig's maw, she would be in the deepest part of Karak Eight Peaks by now! There would be miles to travel, and each step would be hounded by Goblins, Skaven, and every other foul monster that festers in my kingdom! There is not a mortal on this world that would survive such a journey; mourn your leader, or you will be consumed by false hope, something that I do not need in this time of war."

Belegar took a deep breath to calm himself, then gave the Humans something that resembled a sympathetic look. "If you wish to remain here, if you wish to finish your task, you will have to accept that General Shepard is dead."

With heavy hearts, the Imperials were escorted back to their barracks; caught up in their own thoughts, they didn't notice that Gotrek and Felix were nowhere to be found.

Shepard was not happy. In fact, she was as far from happy as she could get. She was bruised, battered, dizzy, and covered in a slime the origins of which she really didn't want to think about. Most importantly, she was unhappy because she had been eaten alive!

One moment, she had been fighting Night Goblins; the next, a very large mouth had clamped over her and pushed her down the gullet of a smelly Squig. The only thing that kept her from falling into the monster's stomach was the most important tongue-wrestling match of Shepard's life. This was in a literal sense; the Squig's tongue was so large that Shepard could wrap her arms around it, and that was what she did.

She had no idea how long she was inside the Squig; the constant bouncing around and the darkness threw off her sense of time. By the time the bouncing stopped, suggesting that the Squig had come to a halt, Shepard's arms ached from constant use, so she assumed that it had been a while.

But there was still the problem of being inside the Squig; Shepard had no idea what was outside, but she had no intention of staying where she was. With some effort, she drew her pistol and pressed the barrels against the roof of the Squig's mouth.

Blam! Blam! Blam!

There was a shift of balance, a groan of pain, and the Squig fell on its side. Shepard tossed her pistol out of the partially open mouth, then hauled herself after it. She fell to the ground with wet slap and a metallic clank. Shepard hauled herself to her feet, then picked up and holstered her weapon—her only weapon, she realized. Her hammer was lost, so all she had to defend herself was her pistol and shield, and she only had seven rounds left for the pistol.

Shield held out, just in case, Shepard took in her surroundings; at first she thought she was in a cavern, but after looking past the layers of grime and patches of mushrooms, she saw that the walls were too smooth, and the pillars nearby, though chipped and covered in crude iconography, looked too similar to ones she'd seen in Barak Varr to be anything other than Dwarf-made.

She was in the depths of Karak Eight Peaks, the heart of enemy territory, and she had no idea how to get out.

Behind her, she heard a door roughly shoved open.

"Gobbla, ya done gettin' dat fing outta yer gob?" There was an angry shriek. "Oi, humie! What're ya doin' 'ere?"

Standing in the doorway was a Night Goblin, but this one was a much more intimidating specimen. Though he was small, like most of his kind, this Night Goblin's robes and hood were more ornate, covered in talismans and bones. In his hands was a spear, its head was wide and surrounded by spikes.

The Goblin glared at Shepard with beady eyes, before shifting those eyes to the dead Squig. "Gobbla? Gobbla, you alive?"

Shepard didn't take her eyes off the Goblin. "Pretty sure he's dead."

The Goblin snarled at her. "Ya humie git! I'll kill ya!"

Faster than Shepard would have thought possible, the Goblin charged at her, spear leveled at her stomach. Shepard leaned out of the way, though the spear still grazed her side; it bit through her armor and sliced across her flesh. Biting back a cry of pain, Shepard lashed out with her leg, smashing the steel-clad limb into the Goblin's face and kicking him across the room.

"Ya done it now, humie," the Goblin spat. "Yer gonna wish ya never met Skarsnik, Warlord of da Eight Peaks!"

Shepard kept her shield between her and her attacker. "You're Skarsnik? I thought you'd be taller."

"I'm da ruler o' dis place," Skarsnik snarled. "I took it from da Skaven and da stunties, and no humie git is gonna take it from me!"

Rather than waste breath talking, Shepard rushed the Goblin ruler, shield slamming into him and throwing him to the ground. Shepard tossed the shield aside and tried to wrap her gauntlets around Skarsnik's throat, but the Goblin thrashed madly, wiry fists and feet flailing. Shepard realized that Skarsnik was stronger than he looked when one lucky blow caught her in the throat. Coughing and wheezing, Shepard lost her grip, and Skarsnik wriggled out from under her, jumped onto her back, and wrapped one arm around her throat.

"Gonna enjoy killin' ya, humie," Skarsnik hissed in her ear.

Without the breath to reply, Shepard settled for jumping up and falling on her back. Caught between stone and an armored Human, Skarsnik was stunned for several seconds, giving Shepard time to regain her breath. By the time that happened, Skarsnik was trying to get to the door, where he would no doubt get help.

Shepard dived for the Goblin, catching him by the ankle and pulling the attached leg closer. With a might punch, she broke Skarsnik's leg, then slammed her helm into his face to keep him from screaming.

Despite being crippled, Skarsnik was not through fighting. He lashed out with a flurry of punches, which Shepard blocked with raised, armored arms, but the momentum knocked her down. Standing over her, Skarsnik grabbed a loose stone, the size of a man's fist, and smashed it against her head. Though her Cerberus upgrades would have kept her skull from being broken, there was enough rage behind the blow that, had it not been for her enchanted helmet, she would have been knocked out. Still, she was dazed, and her hands fell to the ground; her right hand brushed against something, and on instinct, she grabbed it and slammed it into Skarsnik's side.

The Goblin gasped and fell over. When Shepard's vision was no longer blurry, she saw that Skarsnik was dragging himself away, one hand weakly pulling at his own spear, which Shepard had buried into his chest.

"Ya… ain't gonna take my… my mountains," Skarsnik wheezed, looking up at Shepard hatefully as she approached. "I'm da r-ruler of da… da Eight Peaks!"

Panting, Shepard reached out and yanked the spear from Skarsnik's body, then plunged it into his throat.

"Not anymore," she hissed, watching the light fade from the Goblin's eyes.

She then sank to the floor, not caring about the blood, excrement, and other filth that now covered her armor. She sighed tiredly; she had fought Goblins during the journey to Karak Eight Peaks and the battle on the surface, but even the Night Goblins she'd faced had not been so vicious. Then again, only the meanest and cruelest of their kind could command not only other Goblins, but Orc tribes as well; to control such a huge force here, Skarsnik had to be even meaner and crueler.

"Now what do I do?" she wondered. She knew she had to get back to the surface; staying underground was suicide. Still, she hoped to avoid detection for as long as possible, since escaping would be all the more difficult if she had an army of greenskins or Skaven after her.

And someone will realize something is wrong if they come in here and see that their leader has a spear in him, she thought. I need to hide the body.

Unfortunately, since she didn't know where in the Goblin-held areas of Karak Eight Peaks to hide both a Goblin leader and a large Squig, she had to try another tactic. First, she used the wide-bladed spear to slice through Skarsnik's neck, removing his head, and stuffed it into a bag and hooked it to her belt. She had a feeling that the Dwarfs would want some kind of proof of Skarsnik's death, and if what she'd heard about King Belegar Ironhammer was true, he'd recognize the face of the Goblin. She then dragged the body over to the dead Gobbla and pushed it halfway into the Squig's mouth, before stabbing the dead Squig with Skarsnik's spear and leaving it there. Her hope was that, if some Goblins came in to check on their leader, the scene would look like the two had killed each other, rather than that an intruder had done them in.

Picking up her shield, Shepard crept out the door and into the darkness.

"Get dat hunk o' rock outta da way!" Umguff grunted sourly, and the pack of Goblins hurried to obey him.

The big Orc wanted so much to hit something, but the Goblins working under him were wisely staying out of his reach. Umguff usually enjoyed seeing the lesser greenskins cower away from him, but not today.

Umguff had once been important. His tribe, the Bleederz, had come to Karak Eight Peaks when they heard that there was good fighting against the stunties and the rat-people. His Warboss, Bigfist the Puncha, had been the only one who had more power than Umguff, though if Umguff had his way, that wouldn't have lasted forever. However, when the Orcs and their Goblin servants arrived at the mountains, Bigfist was challenged by Skarsnik; the Orc, confident in his superior size and strength, accepted. To Umguff's surprise, the little Goblin was as quick as he was mean, and between Skarsnik and Gobbla, Bigfist was killed without much trouble. Skarsnik had claimed rule over the Bleederz, and set them to work excavating Dwarf ruins for valuable items. Many of the Orcs were reassigned to fight the Skaven when the rat-people began attacking more aggressively, but Skarsnik decided to keep Umguff in charge of the labor, to keep the Orc from getting any ideas or supporters. All he had were packs of the weakest Goblins, not even true Night Goblins; at least those crazy blighters were decent in a fight!

Thinking about his predicament only made Umguff angrier. With a snarl, he snatched up his choppa, a spiked cleaver the length of his arm, and brought it down on a Goblin who'd thought himself safe.

"Get ta work, ya gits!"

With a small hint of satisfaction, Umguff watched the last pieces of masonry hauled away; stooping to avoid hitting his head, he walked into the small chamber. Like all Dwarf tombs, there was a rune-covered casket, though after years of work on the part of Orc and Goblin Shamans, along with more than a little bashing, the runes had finally been weakened enough to enter the chamber. Umguff didn't know the details, and he didn't care; all he knew was that there was shiny Dwarf loot to be had!

"Ah, dere's a chest fing," he said, pointing at a locked box. "Let's get it open!"

Unlike the burial chamber, there were no runes on the chest, just a simple lock that, with several blows from Umguff's choppa, was quickly shattered. When the Orc looked at the chest's contents, he grinned.

"Oi, you runts!" he called over his shoulder. "Ya done good! Da bosses'll luv dis shiny fing!"

Normally, when Goblins heard good news, there was some cheering, or at least some cackles. When there wasn't any noise at all, Umguff turned around to find out where his underlings had run off to.

"Ya better not have left," he warned as he stepped out of the tomb. "I ain't had gobbo stew in a while, an' if ya ran off, I'z gonna have some fer dinner!"

He did find his wayward Goblins; they were in a pile near the rubble, their necks neatly snapped. Next to them was a Human who wore filth-covered armor; it had a shield on one arm, and a small Goblin sword in the other hand.

"Oho, a fight!" Umguff grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "I ain't had one o' dem fer a while!"

The Human didn't waste time talking, instead rushing forward with the stolen sword. Umguff swung his choppa, but the Human ducked at the last second, then darted around him and shoved the sword into his leg. The sword was then ripped out and slashed across his back several times before Umguff could react. He lashed out with his free hand, catching the Human in the face, ripping off the helmet. The Human recovered, then spat out some blood and glared at him; at first, Umguff thought that her head was bleeding, but it was just her red hair.

Umguff roared and swung his choppa down, but the Human sidestepped, then jumped forward and swung her shield into his face hard enough to knock out one of his tusks. Before he could do more than snarl, the Human shoved her blade into his eye and deep into his brain. Still, Umguff had enough energy to knock the Human to the ground; he raised his choppa to finish her off, but his body chose that moment to realize that it was dead, and he collapsed in a heap.

Son of a bitch was tougher than I thought he'd be, Shepard thought as she got to her feet. She had fought Orcs a few times during the trip to Karak Eight Peaks, but though they had been more aggressive than their smaller cousins, they were slower and their movements were brutish. Shepard had fought smart, taking advantage of their unbalanced attacks in order to kill them. She had thought that this one, though bigger than any other Orc she'd fought, would go the same way; unfortunately, the monster's sheer size and refusal to die had made it a more difficult challenge.

As she retrieved her helmet and put it back on, she scowled; things would also have been easier if she'd had a better weapon, and she didn't want to waste her remaining shots. All she had been able to get her hands on was a crude, rusty sword that she'd taken off a dead Goblin, and that was buried in the Orc's skull. She tried to remove it, but the shoddy blade snapped off at the hilt.

"Well, that's just fucking great," Shepard growled. "Now I'm back to only my—what the hell?"

With her helmet back on and enhancing her senses, Shepard spotted a soft glow out of the corner of her eye; it was coming from within the chamber that the Orc had been in. Curious, Shepard went in to investigate; she grimaced when she saw what had to be a burial chamber. She made sure to watch her footing, not wanting to disturb any remains, but continued towards the source of the light. It was coming from inside a chest that was slightly ajar; Shepard opened it fully, and gasped when she saw its contents.

Resting in a sculpted container was an axe; even to Shepard's less experienced eye, it was one of the most finely crafted weapons she'd seen in this world. The black metal haft was almost as long as her arm, its grip made of red-toned leather; the blade itself was a wide, single-headed affair that curved gracefully, but promised death to anything it touched. On either side of the blade was a stylized carving of the head of a dragon breathing fire. Carved on the inside of the top half of the chest was a string of Khazalid, the Dwarf language, but Shepard didn't know what it meant.

Shepard didn't realize that she'd been reaching for the axe until her fingers brushed the grip, and she stopped. She had promised that neither she nor any of her men would take anything belonging to the Dwarfs, and now she was about to rob a grave! What was wrong with her?

Then again, she had been told stories by Olg about the Orcs and Goblins' desecration of Dwarf dead; they and the Skaven were always disturbing remains and taking artifacts. Until Shepard had come along, the same thing had been about to happen again.

"I can't do anything for you," Shepard whispered to the long-dead Dwarf within the casket, "but I can keep your weapon out of enemy hands. I promise to return it to your people."

With that, she took hold of the axe and pulled it from the chest. Despite the entire thing being a large chunk of metal, it felt as light as a feather in her hand. Shepard swung it experimentally a few times, and found that it was perfectly balanced. She also noticed that every time she swung it, she felt an unusual rush, like a miniature burst of adrenaline; she wondered what would happen in actual combat, since Dwarfs tended to put runes on weapons that enhanced their strength or granted special abilities.

Smiling grimly, Shepard stuck the grip of the axe in the loop that normally held her hammer. Whatever the axe could do, she was sure that she'd have a chance to find out before too long.

"Fire at will!" Locke shouted. "Tear these bastards apart!"

Ragged war-cries tore from the throats of every man as the Handgunners, Pistoliers and Outriders, and the artillery crews poured shot after shot into the mass of Skaven. Accompanied by arrows, bullets, and larger projectiles from the Dwarfs alongside them, the Imperials all but obliterated another wave of Skaven.

Locke turned to Skorri, his eyes almost as grim as any Dwarf's. "You may resume your work."

The Dwarf Engineer nodded, and directed his fellows in fortifying the newest foothold. For the last two days since the reinforcements reached Karak Eight Peaks, King Belegar had been relentless in expanding his territory. It was not clear why, but the surface of the Eight Peaks was all but abandoned by both the Goblins and the Skaven, and the Dwarfs were quick to make sure that only they would hold it. When the expected Goblin counterattack didn't come, only a few waves of Skaven, it was assumed that the fighting between the two other races was too intense for them to worry about the original owners of Karak Eight Peaks. Belegar was determined to make them regret that choice; for the first time in years, the Dwarfs had the advantage in this unending war, and they were capitalizing on it.

Since the Humans' objective was still unclear, Belegar assigned them to protect the engineers as they repaired old fortifications and built new ones, while large groups of heavily-armed Dwarfs began entering the first Deep, just below the surface. So far, these forces had had to retreat after only a few hours, but they came back with strange news—the Night Goblins were rapidly losing ground to the Skaven.

"It's not like Skarsnik to make mistakes on this level," Belegar grumbled after these first reports. "If this is right, then he's lost almost a third of his territory!"

"Could the Skaven have thrown everything at the Goblins at once?" Locke asked, since he had been present at the meeting.

Belegar shook his head. "Skarsnik's too smart to lose like that, and Queek might be aggressive, but he's not smart enough to outwit that Night Goblin. No, something else is going on; not sure if I like it."

On a personal level, Locke didn't care about who he was fighting, or even about the mission; he was still too full of rage, and just wanted to kill as many enemies as he could. No amount of victories would make up for the loss of General Shepard, but it was all Locke could do. Like him, the other Imperials had channeled their grief into fury, and were so vengeful that even some of the Dwarfs were showing them respect.

While the common soldiers took Shepard's death as badly as that of any Imperial hero's, those that knew her were devastated. Richter was inconsolable, unwilling to speak unless it was in response to an order, and fighting with such fury that he would collapse after every battle. Michael had led a short prayer for Shepard's soul, then declared his own personal crusade against the Skaven; he swore that, when he returned to the Empire, he would make everyone see that the rat-men were a threat that needed to be eliminated. Parral had thrown himself into his work, either healing those who needed it, or instructing the lesser Jade Wizards with unusual fierceness. Gettmann had been withdrawn, not speaking to anyone; he just gazed into a crystal ball during the day, and stared at the stars during the night, trying to find answers. Locke didn't know what answers the Celestial Wizard was searching for, but they would probably come too late.

It just wasn't fair, Locke mused. Shepard had explained to her officers that these shards that they were after were the only things that might be able to send her home. Despite just trying to get back to her homeland, she had been thrown from one dangerous situation to another. She didn't deserve her fate, and though Locke knew that life could be cruel and unfair, he had always thought that Shepard had the aura of someone who had suffered enough already.

And now she was gone.

Grinding his teeth, Locke tugged at his horse's reins and led his cavalry to the next position; it wouldn't be long before the Skaven sent another probing attack. There would be time for woolgathering later.

Shepard fought down the urge to gag as she swallowed another chunk of charred rat. Without anything else to eat, she had been forced to hunt rats with a crude Goblin spear. These rats were huge, almost the size of small dogs, and once they were skinned, gutted, and thoroughly cooked, they were edible enough to sustain her. But that didn't change the fact that she was eating rat.

By her estimate, she had been underground for almost three days. In that time, she had continued to go up, using stairs, or any tunnel that was angled toward the surface. The problem was that she would hit a dead end, or walls would suddenly open up into Skaven-made tunnels, so she would have to backtrack. She wasn't sure, but she thought she'd gone up two levels, though since she had no idea how deep she'd been when she started, that might not mean much.

At least she'd avoided any conflict, save for a few Skaven that she'd killed with her bare hands. She had wrapped herself in several of their cloaks—with the wolf-like snout of her helmet poking out of the hood, she could almost pass as a Skaven if she hunched over—and used scraps of cloth to cover her boots, muffling her footsteps. She also draped some of the cloth over her shield, in case light caught on it and got unwanted attention.

She shifted to get a better seat, and bumped her leg against the runic axe. Shepard still hadn't used it in battle, but the smell of the place coating her, the Skaven cloth, and the stinking head of Skarsnik still in its bag, she was reasonably sure that her main worry would be the greenskins. As long as she stayed away from the Skaven, anyway.

After putting out her cooking fire, Shepard leaned back against a broken pillar. Even after so many years of being defiled by greenskins and Skaven, Karak Eight Peaks was still breathtaking. The pillars that were still intact stood strong, almost as if defying the graffiti and damage they'd sustained. If Shepard looked hard enough, she thought she saw glittering lights here and there—gemstones that had been inserted by Dwarf artisans that hadn't been removed by invaders.

I really hope the Dwarfs retake this place, Shepard thought. It's too good for these guys.

Shepard was about to close her eyes, intent on taking a short nap, but the sound of fighting brought her to full awareness. Focusing on the noise, she estimated that it wasn't exactly close, but it was also between her and where she was headed.

"Dammit," Shepard swore under her breath; the sounds were slowly getting closer, indicating that the battle was heading further underground.

Getting up, and pulling the axe free, Shepard headed towards the noise so that she could get a better idea on the situation. What she saw was unnerving.

Back in her galaxy, Shepard wasn't used to seeing massive armies clashing in one location; typically, a large-scale war would be dozens, or even hundreds, of teams sent to achieve various objectives. The closest thing to the kind of fighting she'd seen in this world had been the final battle on Earth, and that had mostly been in space.

What she saw now, however, were tens of thousands of Skaven slamming into an army of Orcs and Goblins of equal numbers. It wasn't so much a battle as it was two enormous blunt objects being swung at each other. Huge groups of Skaven and Goblins were tearing into each other, though they were fleeing as often as they were fighting. Orcs bellowed and charged at Stormvermin, Trolls and Rat Ogres waded through groups of smaller enemies, Squigs and giant rats tore each other to pieces, and cackling Shamans dueled with horned Grey Seers, both using unstable magic. In the back ranks of both armies, artillery blasted holes in the other side; the Skaven used giant lightning-guns, while one- or two-man weapon crews launched poisonous gas, storms of bullets, and waves of unnatural fire. The greenskins countered with crude catapults, and hundreds of Night Goblin Fanatics.

After a few minutes of watching, Shepard saw that the Skaven were starting to win. Though both sides were more or less equal in terms of infantry, the Skaven had the advantage of superior technology. Their lightning weapons and weapon crews added a punch to their forces that the greenskins couldn't match; it didn't matter how insane a Fanatic was if he choked and died on poison gas. These weapons were unstable—more than one exploded or fired into the wrong side—but they had been placed where they would do the maximum damage to enemy forces.

It was when the Skaven unleashed a pincer attack that the greenskins' situation went from bad to worse. On one flank, dozens of Doomflayers were launched, followed up by several Doomwheels—a hollow wheel driven by a cackling Skaven, and armed with several lightning-shooting weapons—that punched deep into the Orc and Goblin lines.

On the other flank, a massive… thing lumbered into view. It resembled a rat in the loosest terms, but it had too many limbs and heads; thick stitches crisscrossed its hide, and more than one limb was mechanical. This monster dragged itself across the ground and flailed its massive bulk, crushing scores of Goblins and any Skaven who were unfortunate enough to get in the way. A mob of Orcs charged it, but though their weapons dug deep into its flesh, many of the wounds regenerated in seconds. The Orcs were not so lucky, and were either shredded by claws or smashed into paste.

With the attacks on their flanks, the greenskin army started to shrink, slowly enveloped by the Skaven forces. It was then that Shepard began to move, creeping around the edge of the battle and doing her best to look like a Skaven that was trying to get away from the fighting. It almost worked, until she ran into a small group of Stormvermin that had been placed in the far back for just such an occasion.

There was no way she could bluff her way past; her 'disguise' relied on being further away. There were only eight of them, and they were directly between her and the next level, so she felt like she didn't have another choice. Reaching into the filthy cloak, she drew the axe.

As if sensing battle, the dragon design on the blade began to glow an unearthly orange. Before Shepard even got close enough to swing the axe, the Skaven were reeling back in fear. When Shepard struck, the axe not only cleaved straight through one Stormvermin, armor and all, it kept on going into another; several bloody chunks fell to the ground, armor and flesh neatly cut.

Ooh, I like this, Shepard thought, then drew back the axe again. "Who else wants some?"

The Stormvermin didn't even hesitate to turn tail and run. Not wanting to wait around for them to bring help, Shepard ran up the stairs. Hopefully, she'd be outside soon.

"Something is wrong."

Michael looked up from cleaning his hammer to raise an eyebrow at Gettmann. "You finally speak, after five days, and that is all you have to say?"

Richter laughed, but it was hollow and bitter. "I don't need magic to tell you that things have gone to hell, Wizard."

Gettmann shook his head. "No, that is not what I mean. Ever since the battle, I have been trying to find out how I did not foresee General Shepard's death; I saw much danger, but nothing so sudden."

"Did you warn her of the danger?" Richter asked, his hand drifting closer to his sword, his eyes daring Gettmann to say no.

"I did," the Wizard said calmly, though he took a careful step back. "I warned her that there was a risk, and in doing so, I changed her fate."

"So that she died in some other way?" Richter didn't get up, but he was glaring daggers.

"No. I believe that General Shepard is alive." Everyone present stared at him. "The stars say that there is more to her destiny. That cannot be so if she is dead."

For the first time since their arrival at Karak Eight Peaks, the officers experienced a glimmer of hope.

"But where is she?" Locke asked. "Can you find her now?"

Gettmann sighed, and it was then that the others noticed how tired he looked; he usually looked sleepy, but at that moment, he appeared exhausted.

"I have been trying to find her more immediate fate, but I cannot. There is simply too much warpstone disrupting anything involving the Skaven, and that is what she is probably fighting now."

For a moment, the others looked ready to rush out the door, but then they collectively sighed in defeat.

"We can't get to her, can we?" Richter asked.

"There are simply too many greenskins and Skaven in the way," Locke said. "King Belegar is still preparing for a large-scale assault, but even if we capture the First Deep, who knows where the General is?"

The others had to reluctantly agree. Another two days had passed since their arrival, and the Dwarfs were confident that the surface of Karak Eight Peaks was truly theirs once again. Belegar was organizing a three-wave assault on the underground portion of the hold, led by his personal forces—who were more experienced with the foe and the terrain than any others—and would be followed by the Karak Azul Dwarfs, with the rear being brought up by the ranged troops and war machines of Barak Varr. Unless something changed, the Imperials' job would be to keep watch on the surface.

"I'll petition King Belegar to let us accompany the attack, even if it is only a rearguard action," Locke said after a moment. "His people may not trust Wizards, but we must try. At the very least, I will tell him that General Shepard may be still alive, and ask that he keep an eye out."

Richter smiled; unlike the last time, it was genuine. "Who wants to bet that Gotrek and Felix have already found her?"

The others smiled or groaned; after they had realized that the two had gone missing, a quick search revealed that they had ventured into the depths of Karak Eight Peaks. Since Gotrek was a Slayer, no one had blocked his passage. None of them had known why they had left, but with the possibility of Shepard's survival, maybe they had gone to look for her. It was a better explanation than that they had just abandoned them all.

"Discounting our wayward friends, I will still speak with King Belegar," Locke said, heading for the door. "If General Shepard truly lives, I will not leave anything to chance."

So much for getting out of here sooner, Shepard thought as she hacked apart another Orc. I don't even remember how long it's been!

On the one hand, Shepard was positive that she was headed in the right direction—every flight of stairs that went up gave her just a bit more hope. On the other hand, she kept running into things that wanted to kill her!

This time, it was a group of Orcs; unlike most of the times she'd been attacked so far, she'd found them first. With her borrowed axe in hand, she killed four of them before they knew what hit them; the last seven—six, now—were swinging crude cleavers and axes in an effort to kill her, but Shepard either avoided them, or her axe hacked clean through an offending weapon.

Since she started using the axe, she'd started to figure out what made it so special. For one, it had a nasty habit of doing much more damage than it should have, often cleaving through several targets in one swing. Another feature was that armor didn't seem to slow it down much, if at all; she'd learned that during a fight with an Orc whose armor had to be over an inch thick, yet it hadn't given her much trouble. The last trick it had was that it seemed to instill fear in whatever she was fighting; her opponents didn't immediately flee at the sight of her, but it seemed to make them hesitate, or put a seed of doubt in their minds. It didn't always work, since some enemies could just push through fear, but it was better than nothing.

Once Shepard finished killing the Orcs, she looked around for any sign of more enemies before letting herself relax. It seemed that most of the greenskins were busy dealing with Skaven offensives throughout the hold, so she only had to face occasional pockets of resistance, while skirting around larger groups as they headed off to battle.

More of those groups seemed to be heading down, rather than up, so Shepard assumed that the greenskins were busier with the Skaven than the Dwarfs. Unless something had happened to her allies on the surface—she shook that thought away. She had to believe that her army and the Dwarfs were still fighting, that she had somewhere to go back to. At that point, it was the only thing keeping her going.

Wiping her axe clean of blood on the chest of a dead Orc, Shepard headed for the next chamber, where she would hopefully find a set of stairs that led to the next level. Unfortunately, she didn't.

Instead, she ran right into a Rat Ogre.

The semi-mechanical monster blinked at her, then roared, raising its fists to crush her. Without even thinking, Shepard drew her pistol and fired her remaining four bullets; she had used three when dealing with a particularly annoying Night Goblin archer earlier. The bullets dug into the Rat Ogre's chest, but didn't kill it. Shepard rolled out of the way as the burly arms came crashing down, then drew her axe back and swung down, severing its right arm at the elbow.

The Rat Ogre screeched, but tried to kill her with its other arm. Shepard weaved around it, getting in close and hacking off one of its legs; when it fell over, she finished it off with a blow that sliced off its head.

For a moment, Shepard thought that she was in the clear… until she noticed that there were four more Rat Ogres behind the one she'd just killed, along with dozens of Skaven.

"Well… shit," she muttered.

"Kill-kill man-thing!" a Skaven shouted, and then all hell broke loose.

Rather than take on four Rat Ogres at once, she ran around them heading for the Skaven first. Her axe rose and fell, killing three or four with each swing. Spears and swords stabbed at her, but she deflected them with her shield, slapped them aside with the axe, or outright avoided them. She was about to chase after a group that looked ready to retreat, but something heavy slammed into her back, sending her flying. When the room stopped spinning, she saw that the closest Rat Ogre had managed to get a glancing hit on her; she really didn't want to get hit with the full force of its blows if she could avoid it.

Several Skaven quickly jumped on her, knocking away her axe and shield; one aimed a rusty dagger at her throat. Just before he drove it home, there was a flash of silver, and the Skaven was suddenly missing its head. While Shepard was surprised, so were the other Skaven, and she used that to throw them off.

"It's good to see you, General!" Shepard stared at Felix, who calmly decapitated another Skaven. "We've been looking for you for some time."

We? Before Shepard could speak, there was a wordless roar, and Gotrek crashed into the Skaven like an angry comet.

With the shocked stillness now broken, Shepard grabbed her axe and shield and charged the nearest Skaven.

"How the hell did you find me!?" she yelled over the screeching cries.

"Well, it wasn't like we knew where you were," Felix admitted as he fought. "We just assumed that, if anyone would survive long enough to be found, it would be you!"

"Bah, don't listen to him," Gotrek huffed. "He's the one who wanted to come down here and look for you." Shepard smiled, touched that the poet had been the one to come after her. "He said something about not wanting to owe you after you saved his life."

Well, that moment ended quick, Shepard thought, adding a bit more effort than was necessary to kill another Skaven.

Felix grinned unrepentantly, then expertly parried a Skaven's thrust before stabbing it through the throat. He was about to make a smart remark, but one of the remaining Rat Ogres stomped up to him, followed by the other three. Shepard tried to get to him, but there were still dozens of Skaven between her and her friend.

What happened next was something that would stay in Shepard's memory forever.

The lead Rat Ogre swung a fist in a backhanded arc. Rather than duck or dodge, Felix grabbed a chain that was wrapped around its arm and let it pull him around; he used the momentum to swing up onto its arm, then jumped onto its shoulder. The Rat Ogre had just enough time to look confused before Felix shoved his sword through the top of its skull and into its brain.

Before the Rat Ogre hit the ground, Felix jumped off, landing directly in front of another. He slashed the monster across the stomach, then laid open its throat, letting its guts mix with a torrent of blood. Felix danced out of the way of a third Rat Ogre, letting its clumsy strike hit its dying fellow instead. He then lopped off the offending hand at the wrist, then drew a knife from his belt and threw it into the Rat Ogre's eye. The monster roared in pain, and Felix used the distraction to eviscerate it with a series of strikes that even Shepard could barely follow.

By the time the last Rat Ogre had reached him, Gotrek had finished off the last of the Skaven; the Dwarf lunged at the monster, his axe buried deep into its back. At the same time, Felix stabbed the creature through the heart; however, momentum was on Gotrek's side, and both he and the Rat Ogre fell onto the poet.

Shepard blinked, then stepped over the dead Skaven in a daze as she made her way over to her rescuers.

"Felix, you okay? Say something if you're not dead." An arm poked out from underneath the dead Rat Ogre, and there was a muffled voice. "What was that? I couldn't hear you!"

"Get this thing off of me!" Felix demanded, louder this time.

Shepard and Gotrek shared a smirk, then lifted the corpse enough for Felix to wriggle free.

"So… thanks for the save, guys," Shepard said as she removed her helmet. The man and the Dwarf were covered in filth, blood—none of it their own—and had clearly been traveling a lot. Still, Shepard had never been happier to see anyone. "I was starting to forget what other Humans and Dwarfs looked like."

Felix grinned. "Now how could you forget my handsome face, General?"

Shepard smiled back. "It's easy when you've got rat crap on your face." She laughed when Felix began scrubbing at his face, then turned to Gotrek. "How long have I been down here? I kinda lost track of time."

"Five days, though if we're careful, we can reach the surface in two," Gotrek said, actually looking impressed, before his gaze fell on the axe in Shepard's hand. "Where did you get that?"

"Oh, this?" Shepard held it out to him. "I caught some Goblins and an Orc breaking into a tomb. I thought it would be a good idea to take this back to your people." She then remembered something. "There was a phrase in your language written over it, but I don't know what it meant."

"Tell me," Gotrek said, an almost feverish light in his eye.

Shepard had memorized the Dwarf letters and drew them out in the dirt with a stick. Gotrek read it, and then his eyebrows rose.

"Unbak Urk—the Foe-Breaker." He stared at Shepard. "You found the axe of Karak Eight Peaks' third king!"

Shepard looked down at the axe—Unbak Urk—in surprise. She'd had no idea the weapon had belonged to royalty!

"Um… wow."

Gotrek blinked, then turned away. Felix, his face now much cleaner, leaned in to whisper in Shepard's ear.

"I can count on one hand the number of people who have impressed him twice in a single day."

"Thanks, I think." Shepard then grinned. "Speaking of being impressed—what you did back there, with the Rat Ogres? That was fucking impressive."

"Well, I do my—" Felix froze when Shepard kissed him on the cheek.

"And that was for coming down here for me," she said, sending a wink his way before putting her helmet back on and running after Gotrek.

Felix followed a moment later, a massive grin on his face.

Another two days passed, and the Imperial army was growing frustrated. Belegar had denied their request to join in the first attack, and had told them once again that Shepard was certainly dead.

On top of that, Gettmann had more bad news: he had sensed that the shard was now in Skaven hands, but at least it was still in Karak Eight Peaks. There was a chance that they could still get it.

Without being able to join the Dwarf assault, the Humans could only watch as thousands of the stout warriors prepared to enter the deeps. They remained just outside the Citadel, their handguns and artillery aimed at the entrance to the lower levels; they would cover the Dwarfs as they made their advance, because either the Skaven or the greenskins would surely come out to stop them.

Belegar himself was at the forefront of the army; in the middle was Thorek and his Anvil of Doom, ready to aid his brethren and bring death to the enemy in equal measures. Of the three leaders, Morgrim was elected to stay behind, where he would organize the defense of the surface.

"Advance!" Belegar shouted, his hammer raised high.

At his command, the throng began to march. They were mere yards from the entrance when the Skaven attacked; swarms of giant rats poured from the darkness in waves. Dwarfs withstood the torrent of rodents with unyielding shield walls and gromril, and when they felt that the rats had given their best, axes and hammers swung. Some Dwarfs were brought down by sheer weight, rats chewing at flesh through gaps in armor, but there were those who simply ignored the biting creatures, killing groups while their fellows removed their attackers.

But that was just the first wave. Next came Doomflayers and Doomwheels; these had been predicted by Belegar, and he had prepared accordingly. Organ Guns and Helblasters fired from prepared, elevated positions; the smaller shells ripped through the fragile machines, and only fragments of metal and splinters of wood struck Dwarf shields.

Some of the Humans cheered, but the Dwarfs merely scowled; they knew that there was more to fight. They were proven right when thousands of Skaven charged out of the tunnels, leaping at the Dwarfs in a frenzy. Arrows and bullets rained down on them, but many still reached the Dwarf line. Once again, the fighters brought axe and hammer to bear, and the field became clogged with Skaven bodies.

The hordes of Clanrats were killed or driven back, but the Dwarfs had just moved their own dead when a terrible roar echoed out from the tunnels. Underneath the feet of the Dwarfs closest to the entrance, the ground began to vibrate; a moment later, two enormous monsters dragged themselves into view. They were roughly similar in size and shape, but while one had too many heads, the other had an array of mechanical arms.

"What the hell are those!?" Richter demanded, staring at the monsters in fascination and horror.

The twin Hell Pit Abominations charged the Dwarf line, scattering them like leaves. The Dwarfs and Humans reacted quickly, sending hundreds of bullets and arrows, along with dozens of cannonballs and bolts, into the monsters, but their wounds were either ignored or healed in seconds.

Only when a Flame Cannon was brought to bear did they see any noticeable results. The fire scorched the flesh from upper half of the less mechanical Abomination, and it was finished by a Great Cannon that blew most of its heads off. The other one was eventually brought down by the combined power of three Helblasters and a lightning bolt from Gettmann.

Despite the victory, the Dwarfs did not advance; the Abominations had scattered their lines, killed dozens of Dwarfs each, and many more were injured. The attack would have to be called off until tomorrow.

"Look out!" a Dwarf cried. "One of the beasts is still alive!"

Sure enough, the Abomination that had been riddled with holes began to rise, many of its wounds healing in seconds. The artillery crews were about to fire again when something happened.

Three figures ran out of the darkness; one was a Human with blonde hair and a shining sword, one was a Dwarf Slayer, and the third was—

"It's the General!" Richter cried, pointing at Shepard as she carved a huge gash in the Abomination's side with a glowing axe.

The Imperials heard Richter's words and let out a mighty cheer; against all odds, Shepard had returned! However, they realized that she was too far away for them to help her in this fight; all they could do was watch.

Belegar, on the other hand, was much closer, and led dozens of Ironbreakers against the Abomination. Between the keen blades and powerful runic weapons, the Abomination fell, and didn't rise again.

With a triumphant cheer, the Imperials surged forward to greet their General. Shepard pulled off her helm just as her officers reached her.

"Hey, guys," she said with a grin. "I guess you missed me?"

Okay, so there are some things I want to talk about.

First, Skarsnik's death: Let's face it, Skarsnik is awesome, but he's still just a Goblin. Take away his pointy stick and Gobbla, and he's just a really mean Goblin. He's still a great tactician, but Goblins aren't exactly known for their durability. I hope I made his end a good one.

Second, Unbak Urk was something I created using Dwarf language and runes from the tabletop game. Unbak means 'to permanently break' and Urk means 'Orc, darkness, or enemy'. Put together, Unbak Urk literally translates to 'to permanently break enemies', but I like the translation of 'foe-breaker' better. I also made up that thing about it being the weapon of Karak Eight Peaks' third king. I don't even know who the third king was. Now, as for the runes from the game, I gave it the Master Rune of Smiting (D6 wounds per hit), the Rune of Cleaving (armor piercing) and the Rune of Dismay (causes fear). This is all legal in the game. And it's the axe of a king, so it's gotta be awesome. As for how Gotrek knows about it... well, it's very old, and the weapon of a king. I'm sure there are legends of that kind of thing.

Third, of course Shepard was going to make it out alive, but dammit, I wanted Gotrek and Felix to do more awesome stuff. And I am using the word 'awesome' a lot, but I don't care.

Next Chapter: The Skaven possess the shard! Shepard will have to come up with a daring plan to lure both it, and the most dangerous of Skaven Warlords, into the open.

Grimnir gave one of his sacred muffins to his son.