Chapter Four
"We sons of Grungni may have drunk deep from the bitter wastes of misfortune, but we yet survive. Whilst a single Dwarf draws breath, we will fight the evils that assails us, and we will never, ever give up.
-Heingst Stonebelly, Dwarf Longbeard.
…
She can't help but smile as piercing ruby eyes looked towards the great project that the Protoss is building around Aiur. It is certainly ambitious, even in her standard. But the Artisans of the Protoss caste have been pushy in their attitude in the past few weeks. Apparently the news of the Templar Caste winning over the Alfs or the High Elves as they now called them thanks to the renaming of the Hierarch to their entire race isn't received well by the Artisans thanks to a little bit of jealousy.
She has foreseen this, she knows that despite their unity, the very fact that the Protoss are grouped into three castes would one day cause strife. And although it doesn't cause any division in the view of things of their race as a whole, they are still prone on being competitive on many things. Thus, the fact that the Artisan Caste feel as if they are being outdone by their warriors brothers and sisters in arms in their service to their beloved goddess, they have stepped up their game on achieving something that would be on par with the victory of the newly found planet of the High Elves.
Of course she knows that in the larger run of things when it comes to the universe, one victory over a single planet doesn't count much. However the very fact that it is the first planet that the Protoss conquered or liberated when they first rose to the stars meant a lot for her people. Already the liberation of the High Elves and their planet are being recorded in the annals of the Protoss. Large numbers of tomes about the battle, the tactics involved, the enemy they dealt with and such are being put into place on its many archives. It might just be one measly planet in the face of the entire galaxy, but the significance of that first step meant a lot for her created.
Of course she had expected them to be victorious. The faith of the Protoss people have boosted her power tremendously and she had been able to extend her consciousness into space searching for the perfect viable target that both would boost her Created's ego when it comes to the path she set them on and also give them a perfect ratio of success that would give them the proper leap they needed to win the stars. Judging from the results, it worked well….a little too well. Already the rest of the Warrior Caste is gunning to be present for the next campaign to win glory and achieve the purpose that she set for them.
As for the Artisan Caste, they have prompted to achieve the same results as the Warrior Caste does although in their own way. And she has to say, that she's color impressed with what they achieved.
Aiur as a whole is a garden world filled with lush oases and large tracts of forests and vegetation that made up the majority of its surface. Only the largest cities like Aiur and such can be settled on with great numbers and the only places where the great architecture and machines of the Artisans can be put into place. The rest of the planet is too muddy or too unstable for the larger buildings to be placed upon. Of course this doesn't affect the daily life of the Protoss. They have enough grounds for all Castes involved in the cities, and no space is ever wasted. However despite the stability of their planet, what the Protoss lack above all else is their ability to produce ships. Sure there are small shipyards at Aiur, but they mostly produce teleportation array ships; the ones that would enable the transporters of the Protoss to be able to serve as a beacon for the arrays to teleport manpower.
The main shipyards of the Protoss people though is located on their seven moons. Miles long of golden habitation units filled with different members of the three Caste systems. On them are large empty spaces of yards made with the sole intention of spitting out ships for the Great Reclamation. However there is one small hiccup that the Artisan Caste caught a snag in.
The moons are not that stable.
Sure shipyards may be able to be made on the seven moons, however their size and number have to be severely limited. The moons of Aiur apparently are not stable despite their numbers surrounding the planet. The sizes of the yards have to be limited only making the production of the larger ships that the Protoss Artisans designed almost impossible to build. The making of the Goddess' Justice, the fifty kilometer flagship of the Protoss alone took two years to build. It has to be coordination from the seven moons sending materials and requirements for it even to be possible to be built. They have to build it in open space for the ship yards of any of the moons can barely even fit the front hull of the large golden flagship. It took a lot of effort on everyone but it is done.
The Artisan Caste however resolved to take care of this ship-building problem as their gift to their goddess and something to balance the success of the Warrior Caste at the Liberation of the High Elves. And she has to admit that even she is impressed by their work, they certainly came up trumps on their gift for her.
Aiur is as regular as any garden world. However what made it different from the rest of the garden worlds is its gravity. It is heavier, and more damaging to those who walk in bipedal legs. That's the reason why Protoss legs are so different unlike most humanoids. Their lower-body bone structure made them strong enough to walk and run in the strong gravity of Aiur. If a regular human jumps at the surface of the planet, his landing would result to both his kneecaps cracking at the heavier landing. Not for Protoss though, it is another reason for their stronger than usual bodies. This strong gravity of their home world is what the Artisan Caste is aiming for.
Thousands of their best researchers put their heads together nearly not stopping except for sleep and rest worked at the Great Archive Library of Aiur. There nearly every tome about building and anything related to space and gravity are pulled out and studied by said researchers. Ideas are thrown about by the multitudes and after a cycle of arguments and planning and designing using tidbits of the greatest minds their race have to offer. The Artisan Caste of the Protoss began their most ambitious project yet, the Planetary Rings of Aiur,
It might be called a Ring in simple terms but it is anything but simple. What serves as rings are in fact two large spaceports circling the entirety of the planet of Aiur. Here, nearly eighty percent of the war-machine of the Enclave are produced and also serves as the economical Hub of a large margin of the population of the Artisan Caste. Despite Aiur being a garden world, with the planets' native animals being not so friendly to anyone outside the walls of the cities, it is impossible for the Protoss to expand without killing the forests and animals that littered their lush garden world; something that any Protoss really don't like to do.
As a result, the Great Rings became the new space cities for the Created of the goddess of creation. Hundreds of space ports littered the Rings rotating in gravity around the garden planet providing much needed ships for the requirement of the navy whose numbers exploded from a paltry few to an armada that would give any Space Marine Legion pause in terms of numbers. Already the Warrior Caste pilots are terming the slowly growing fleet, the Golden Armada thanks to the color scheme that the Protoss people prefer. The Rings also serve as a defense grid of their beloved home planet. Thousands of guns big and small are specifically designed by the bright minds of the Artisan caste with the sole purpose of defending their home. Any daring invader would find themselves torn to pieces by the stations guns even before they could appreciate the beauty of the planet they are about to invade. All in all, it is a worthy gift to her; something that the Warrior Caste also envies.
Pulling herself back to her physical body in the Materium, she looked down from the floating city on the new planet they annexed from the Rat-Men towards the gathering numbers of the newly named Highborne, or in another term, the High Elves. She has to admit that the Protoss Warrior Caste actually managed to save this race from disaster just in time. With Warp Storms still prevailing all around them, a lot of these former humans would have been victims of the Chaos gods. A large number of them have the latent ability to be a psyker give or take a few decades. They would have been playthings for the Chaos gods and none of their culture, as little as it is would have survived. The former Alfs are peace-loving people but she could sense the greatness in them. They are more than capable of doing great things. What it needs though is the proper push on the right direction.
Already that push is being done. The Council in their first major discussion about another world literally bent over backwards since their patron goddess shows a little bit of interest in this new undeveloped planet. Nearly every priest of the Hierarch Caste that is not required back at Aiur came in droves on this planet carrying the "goodwill" and the "present" of the Enclave and the blessing of their goddess. Khydarin crystals with differentiating sizes are planted on specific locations around this world rendering it invisible in the eyes of the Chaos gods like Aiur is. And of course the Priests didn't waste time converting the locals which is very easy thanks to the liberation efforts of the Warrior Caste.
Despite the leaps and bounds that her Created made though, she still felt worried. She's already starting to become concerned with the timeline of events that will happen sooner or later. While the numerous Warp Storms still continue to plague the majority of the galaxy, it is plainly obvious that they are slowly lessening as the Material rifts slowly repairs itself. Already her precognition of time is telling her that once the Warp Storms close; it would be a new age, for who however is a big question. She could feel the Chaos gods hungering ever past the bubbles of blindness that the Khydarin crystals pose, the ambitions of another like her, a servant of Order and anathema against the darkness, the tortured screams of a goddess locked in eternal damnation, and the ever present residual schemes of the Laughing god whose weaves of play even she does not understand. Soon things will come to a head and she knows that her Created and her followers must be ready for whatever it is to come. She has prepared them as best as she can, technologically, physiologically and psychologically to be the light against the darkness that would soon engulf the lull of peace in the galaxy. They must be ready! There is no other way.
Turning her eyes to the now launching ships of the Golden Armada, a thousand strong ships with nearly a hundred Capital Ships, (the same size as the one that brought down the Rat-Men enslaving the Alfs) from the Rings towards to the unknown to discover new worlds and bring it under her protection, she knows in her heart of hearts that the road ahead would not be a simple one. In fact it would be a road of trials and tribulations, but they must endure. The light of the galaxy would depend on them and they can't afford to be lax about it lest everything be forever swallowed by Chaos.
…..
There has always been Dwarves and there have always been vampires. Ever since the beginning of time, the conflict between the two races has always been ever prevalent. Even the historians of the golden ages have forgotten where it all began. All they know that the fighting between their kinds has been there all the time. The vampires are stronger, faster, and more deadly than the stout-hearted under dwellers. As a result, the Dwarves are forced to innovate, to turn their eyes to weapons of steel and fire to combat the physical prowess of their mortal enemies.
Generations passed as the conflict grows on. Battle after battle, their world is bathed on the blood of the two races. Whereas the Vampires adapted and grow more intelligent on the ways of killing their prey, the Dwarves' innovation made them progress from swords and bows to weapons of steam and gunpowder. However there is one thing that the Dwarves' have that the vampires don't. The Dwarves have the sun.
When the sun is up, the vampires turn to their daylight dens and the dwarves' would advance fully, trying their best to recover long lost territories that they lost on the darkness of the night. On the rising of the moon though, it would be vice versa and the vampires who would lie in wait would once more crawl out of their holes and the hordes would once more descend on the bearded folks of the land.
Faced with this quandary of disaster, the Dwarves shut themselves on walled cities under the protection of their churches. To avoid extinction, the great folks of the mountains and the rock abandoned the wide lands that they own outside the great walls to preserve their lives. This forced the war between the two in a bloody stalemate. The Dwarves knowing that if their last bastions fell, fought tooth and nail to throw back the vampire threat, this ferocity of their prey caught the bloodsuckers off guard and the advance is stalled on the great walls. Gunpowder and mechanical marvels of the medieval ages met against claws and flesh of the lithe monsters of the night nearly every week and the sides of the walls of the Great cities are ever mired in blood.
The Dwarves though, know that this tactic is nothing more than a stall effort. Every single battle on the walls reduced the number of their warriors while the vampires on the other hand seem endless in numbers compared to them. Already five cities have fallen on the continent despite the staunch defense of their defenders thanks to the vampires seemingly overwhelming the walls by sheer force of numbers alone.
You see vampires are not your typical humanoid blood sucking fiend that dresses up as a human. These vampires are lithe, monstrous and though they take humanoid form, they act more like animals walking in all four limbs without eyes, nose or ears. All they have is a mouth and deadly claws which they use to rip their victims apart. They are agile though, very agile that even the dwarves in full armor and equipped with large mechanized guns and battle-axes cannot stand against them man to man. Their increased supernatural strength is also a hindrance for the dwarves. Large hive guardians are more than enough to crush to tin can the huge mechanized machines that the Dwarves drive to combat bigger foes.
This blood feud between the two races continue for centuries until now the Dwarves are left nothing but five cities with Rantel being the only one left standing in strength and being the primary bulwark against the vampire hordes. Protected by natural fortifications of mountains and deep valleys, Rantel served as the passageway to the rest of the four cities of the Dwarves. In its walls the final fate of the Dwarven race will be decided. If Rantel falls, the other four cities would be left defenseless against the Dwarves' long time enemy. It is in this moment of fate that the Templar Caste shows itself.
…
Rantel Last Day of the Dwarven Lunar Year.
"Hrungi! Hrungni! Hrungni!" the cheer of the Dwarven Warriors echoed on the three gates of Rantel as their king and leader for nearly four hundred years rides through the shadows of the great gates of the city towards the forefront of the battle. Grungni however can see the sadness in his father's eyes despite the familiar words of inspiration and comfort he made to the people to quell their fears in the face of this attack.
This is no longer the Hrungi of old who charged recklessly against the Demon Horde before the fall of the last two cities that left Rantel alone standing. It is as if he has withdrawn within himself not out of fear or uncertainty, but deep abiding sadness which seemed to have quenched his spirit of all fire. It is a shell of his father that knows that the end will soon to come. Grungi himself believed it. The vampire horde assailing them today is stronger than it has been for millennia. It seems as if the vampires have finally tired of simply raiding the Dwarves bit by bit and decided to wipe them clean off the face of their world by this simply devastating blow of numbers. The responsibility fell on his father, their king to see the end of their race. The generals of course knows about it and accepted it, everyone who knows made the final decision to fight the fiends one last time and give them a bloody nose as they leave this living world instead of lying down and die.
Grungni embraced his father warmly masking the sadness that he feels for the old dwarf. Then he steps back and holds forth the Staff of Ruling, the scepter of the Dwarves.
"This belongs to you father,"
Hrungi seems to hesitate momentarily then slowly shook his head. "No Grungni. It belongs to you now. You must carry it for me,"
Grungi stares at his father wordlessly. His father knows. He knows that he is not well, knows that something within him is not like before his younger years. The pretense he makes to others, he does not conceal to his son.
Grungi withdraws the staff. "Then stand with me on the wall father," he asked softly. His father nods and together they climb up the battlements.
Even as they do so, the foremost of the vampire horde gain the banks of the river which serves as a natural defense. Out of the waters they surge with savage cries to throw themselves against the waiting lances and spears that bristle from behind the bulwarks of the Dwarves. In moments there are Vampires emerging from the river banks along the entire length of the first defensive line outside the wall, slimy and dirty, a jumble of pale white limbs, claws and jaws ripping and tearing at the defenders that bar their path.
At its center, Chief Grimond, the king's personal friend and the last of his clan anchored the defense. The buffed red-haired dwarf standing at the forefront of his clansmen, giant battle-axe raised. On the flanks are elements of the Dwarven royal army: Tay and Day of the Royal Guards called out to their soldiers: Hold! By the Stone, hold!"
But they can hold no longer. Outflanked and outnumbered, the defensive line began to crumble. Huge Hive Vampires thrust through the defenders and breached the walls open to those who followed. The waters of the River are dark with Vampire lifeblood and twisted bodies courtesy of the non-stop shelling of the Dwarves in the city with their mortars and catapults. For every one that fell, three replaced it though, a savage rush with no end.
Atop the second gates of Rantel, Grungni gives the order to fall bacl. Quickly the Dwarves abandoned the crumbling river wall and slip into tunnels underground, following carefully memorized paths to the safety of the second gates. Almost before the vampires realize what is happening, the defenders are within its walls and the gates are shut behind them.
Instantly the vampires are in pursuit. Pouring through the gates like sand, they run afoul to the hundreds of snares and pitfalls the Dwarves have lay out for them. For a few seconds the entire rush stalled. However they simply overran those caught in the traps and came into range of the walls. Massing up together, they attacked. Up the walls of the gate they charged, swarming atop one another until they are pouring over the defenses of the lower level despite the stubborn resistance of the dwarves greeting them with guns and axes. They swarmed along the walls and rock like insects. ; bodies clawing, leaping and bounding up the slope of the gates shrieking with hunger. The Dwarves are appalled. The river has not stopped the advance. The defenses at the bank have been overrun in minutes. Now the first level of the gates has been lost and even the cliff wall does not seem to slow them down. It is beginning to look as if all their defenses would prove useless.
Vampire bodies thud against the gates of the second wall, clawing upward. Axes and pikes thrust down lodging off the attackers. The gates sagged on their hinges with the weight of the rush. Yet this time the defenders hold. Iron and sinew brace the gates and repels the attack. Cries of pain, death and explosion fills the air and the vampire forms builds into a mass of writhing force, surging mindlessly against the walls of the second gate. Out of their midst came a handful of Hive guardians, massive vampires that dwarf their brethren. Powerful forms clawed up the walls, sightless faces twisted with madness. Dwarven defenders fall to them, shredded by their claws and trampled underneath, crying out in death.
Powerful booms meet them head on catching the Hive guardians by surprise as they are turned to paste and chunks of meat. Dwarves wielding some of the more advanced boom stick cannons lead the charge and the dwarves counterattack throwing the rest of the vampires off the wall to the dark mass below.
The vampires gathered force yet the defenders hold on still. Rifle wielding dwarves from the third level and mortal crews continue giving support to the lancers and axe-men below. Then suddenly a massive vampire rises out of the attackers and comes at the gates of the second level trampling its smaller brethren below. Hissing in fury, it throws its bulk against the gates, snapping the crossbars and loosening the hinges. In desperation the Dwarves sought to thrust it back, but the monstrous thing seemingly shrug off the blows and guns, weapons pinging off its hard leather skin. A second time it throws itself on the gates and this time it split apart shattering backwards to the gathered defenders. The Dwarves fall back at once fleeing up to the third and final level where the next set of gates remain wide open to receive them. The massive vampire and its brethren follow after pouring on the rampway.
For an instant it seems that all hope would be lost. The vampires are coming too fast and the escaping defenders are too slow to escape the more agile predators. Those at the gates cannot close it in fear of locking outside the rest of the army leaving them at the fate of the demons. For a second it would seem that all hope would be lost especially since the massive vampire is ripping off the dwarven mechanized war machines that try to stop it like paper.
Grungi himself felt hopelessness slowly engulf him as he observes the disaster that is slowly starting to unfold in his eyes. If the dwarven army is unable to make it to the gate, it would not matter if they hold the gate. The vampires would overrun what little defenders there are. If they however let the army pass through, they would be unable to close the gate which the vampire tide would then engulf them all in an instant.
He wanted to cry out in frustration. Grabbing his war-axe, he's just ready to make the rallying call to his kinsmen to follow him into one final charge of hopelessness to make the bloodsucking fiends pay for their victory when a bright beam of light immediately came down from the sky crashing right into the vampire giant leading the charge engulfing it immediately.
Grungni can only watch in silent amazement as more beams of light came from the heavens crashing down in the frontal lines of the vampire horde sending bodies flying everywhere and making the unstoppable charge of the vampire stop into a grinding halt as those at the front refuse to take one more step forward and be engulfed in the beams of light that come from the night sky illuminating the entire area. Those unlucky enough to be pushed on the momentum of the charge get incinerated in a molecular level.
Grungni doesn't know how long he has been standing there watching the flashing lights rain from the heavens continuously and decimating their long term enemy. Behind him his kinsmen also is as the same state as he is as they watched the miracle happening in their eyes. The Dwarves may not be zealous when it comes to their religion, but they are not stupid enough to ignore a miracle when there is one happening right in front of their eyes. Add the fact that said miracle is currently saving them from total disaster and annihilation, this only reinforce the belief that what is happening right now is an act of god in their eyes.
And just as fast as the lights came, it stopped leaving nothing behind but a dust of smoke and earth. However as Grungni squinted forward he could see beings striding and emerging from the smoke. His breathe hitched forward as the tall beings came into view facing the confused and now disorganized vampire rabble. Dressed in golden elegant armor and very tall in his opinion, he can't help the dread he feels in his heart. As far as he knows, only vampires and dwarves live in these lands for millennia other than the non-sentient creatures. He has no idea what these people are as more of them appear, some of them carrying massive spears taller than them glowing in unearthly blue energy. Their skins are blue and their lights are shining as the very stars themselves. They retain almost the same humanoid structure as they do, but taller and thinner and he could swear up and down that these are very deadly.
Are these the gods that his people have been praying to? He can't help but wonder. They don't look the same as the ones they stashed in their halls of praise and monuments.
Before he could even contemplate more however about their new arrivals, the tall beings charged without warning, without sound that he would have sworn that he only imagined it as they tear through the confused vampires apart with ease. He could only watched with magnified wonder as the vampires caught off guard by this new beings barely manage to show the fury that their kind possess as they are torn to pieces.
Being a warrior himself, Grungi can only say that this level of killing is new to him. The beings are blurs of blue and gold barely registered movements noticed by his eyes as they take killing to a whole new level. All Dwarves boast on being warriors, however seeing these "gods" rip through their ancient enemy as easy as taking a walk seriously dents their pride as warriors. He could only watch as they wrecked through the horde like fire on paper. No movement of theirs is wasted and the vampires do manage to strike never gets the chance to do it again as they are torn asunder by a counter. Those wielding spears probably do the most damage than those that wields the swords made of godly energy. Every swipe of their amazing weapons takes three to five vampires at once. This is not a battle. This is a massacre.
Despite the awe, fear and dread mixed into one, Grungni managed to pull himself together as he hefts the shaft of his axe tighter as he pulled his eyes away from the every growing carnage to the assembled ragged army of dwarven warriors who stands rooted at the spot behind him. Now is the time to attack and bring the vengeance of the dwarven people to their hated enemy.
"Brothers and sisters! The gods have now joined the battle against the fiends that destroyed our home. Don't let this opportunity go to waste as we are given now free leave to take our vengeance! For our ancestors! For the fallen of the Dwarven race that fought this fiends for generations! Khazad! Khazad! Ai Menu!" roared Grungni feeling the bloodlust and the courage that made him the warrior he is rise as he raised his axe into the air.
He could see at once that it worked. His people finally snapped out of their stupor as they hefted their own weapons cheering and roaring in approval of their prince. "Khazad! Khazad! Khazad! For Prince Grungni!" the call goes out from mouth to mouth.
"Open the gates! To victory!" Grungni roared as he jumped down from the wall making sure that his axe bit into the skull of a wounded vampire trying to crawl away. "The gods fight on our side! To victory! Khazad Ai Menu!" roaring he ran towards the masse of vampires trying to fend off the "gods" killing them.
This would be the day that would elevate Grungni as a simple dwarf prince to a legend of his people who fought side by side with the gods.
…
Author's Note: I'm trying to include the races of the Warhammer original franchise before we go to 40K We've got one more race to unite under the banner of the goddess before we go toe to toe with Mr. Emperor of Mankind.