The days of the apocalypse grew darker. Continents
burned, the moon cracked, and winds of magic were unbound from the vortex created to stabilize
the world so many centuries ago. In the wake of destruction, furred masses of rats erupt from
the Under Empire to seize weakened settlements and unsuspecting strongholds. Proving their superior
cunning with the destruction of the Black Pyramid, the Skaven had secured a warfront with an
ancient adversary. Directing their beady red eyes upon the mountain holds of the Dwarfs,
they devised a bold invasion into the most stoutly protected holds and cities known in the Warhammer
Fantasy World. Welcome to our latest episode on the End Times of Warhammer Fantasy, where we
will cover the fall of the Dwarf Kingdoms. "We sons of Grungni may have drunk deep
from the bitter waters of misfortune, but we yet survive. Whilst a single Dwarf draws
breath, we will fight the evils that assail us, and we will never, ever give up."
—Hengist Stonebelly, Dwarf Longbeard Also known as the Elder Race or the Dawi,
the Dwarves were among the oldest, proudest, and richest of the known mortal races. Renowned
for their stubborn nature, the End Times military tactics of the Dwarf Empire, or the Karaz Ankor as
they call it in their tongue of Khazalid, relied on the unmatched artillery and expert defensive
stonemasonry of their holds. Unlike Men and Elves, Dwarfs were unable to channel, let alone perceive
the Winds of Magic and instead developed the closely guarded art of Runesmithing. Without
igniting the dangerous power within the winds, the Runesmiths would trap the potent magic
and hold it safely in their craft. As the inevitable march of doom closed in around
their mountain homes, long-hoarded vaults of these valuable weapons would be opened
in hopes of withstanding the coming storm… The expansion of the Skaven warfront accelerated
with horrifying efficiency after the supremely successful offensive in Estalia and Tilea. The
coordination between clans reached the most coherent in Under Empire history during the End
Times, seen when the lesser clans hidden deep in the mountain ranges confederated and surprised
Zhufbar with a siege under the leadership of Clan Ferrik. Simultaneously, Ikit Claw led an
assault on Karak Kadrin with the underground aid of Clan Kreepus and Clan Moulder. At the
coast of Barak Varr, the harbour strongholds encountered invading Skaven Clanfleets, and in
the South, Clan Mors marched for Karak Eight Peaks. Assaulted from so many fronts, the Dwarfs
fell for the initial scheme of the Lord of Decay; to isolate the Dwarfs from one another
and whittle them down through attrition. "We will bring down their decaying empire
and the children of the Horned Rat shall inherit the ruins. I will see that it is
Clan Mors that emerges pre-eminent from this extermination. Finish them quickly.
Go to help the others complete the tasks they will not be able to finish
on their own. Clan Mors must look strong. Clan Mors must be victorious!"
—Lord Gnawdwell, Warlord of Clan Mors When it became clear that the Dwarf Empire
was feeling the pressure of multiple sieges, Lord Gnawdwell decreed that the prize of
Karaz-a-Karak, the ancient dwarf hold of Eight Peaks, would go to none but Clan Mors alone.
The mountain hold had been in a constant struggle for control between Dwarfs, Greenskins,
and Skaven for some time, and so Gnawdwell ordered his protégé Queek Headtaker to lead the
hordes of rats into the mountain and claim it for Mors. The bulk of the southern skaven armies
gnawed their way into the mountain in numbers uncountable and sprung an ambush upon the green
skins holding a strategic point in the peaks. [Battle at Karak Eight Peaks] Tunnelling across the mountain, the suffocating
masses of slaves pushed the occupying greenskins through the crossroads and out of the mountain
into Grobi town. Queek very nearly killed Skarsnik during the retreat but stopped his pursuit
once outside the Ancestor Vault to regroup his infantry. Deep beneath the two armies in The
Trench, a massive reinforcement of one hundred thousand skaven from thirty-eight different
warlord clans and several thousand Clan Moulder warbeasts tunnelled up towards the surface.
For a moment, Queek considered sabotaging his own reinforcements but did not commit to invoking
the wrath of Gnawdwell. Instead, Queek organized the placement of several warp bombs along the
major peaks of the city, and in their detonation, annihilated Karah Nar and severely damaged the
rest. The Greenskins were forced to retreat further into the mountain and into the mines.
From the trenches, seventy thousand clanrats gnawed upwards into The Grand Avenue and poured
into The Hall of Reckoning, surprising the garrison of defending dwarfs. Remaining stalwart
in their duty, the throng of Dawi repelled the Skaven and maintained control over the hall.
Meanwhile, entreating the routed Greenskins with a tempting offer, Verminlord Soothgnawer promised
Skarsnik a portion of Karak Eight Peaks when the battle had been won in exchange for attacking
the Halls of Clan Skalfdom. Even if Skarsnik knew the folly of trusting a rat, the greenskins
agreed to the temporary alliance and lay in wait beneath the King’s Hall until the right moment…
Above ground, Queek Headdtaker broke the lull of battle with a ferocious charge, advancing
against the Great Gate of Defiance with his infamous red guard. Poisoned globes from a team
of Vatbacks sailed over the red guard and landed inside the gatehouses and battlements, creating a
poisonous miasma that gave the mutant beasts time to dismantle the gate. Once the massive door
had been opened, an imposing wall of armoured stone plait dwarfs stubbornly prevented any
further advancement into The King’s Hall. There, surrounded by his legendary Iron Brotherhood, the
King of Karak Eight Peaks, Belegar Ironhammer, awaited another fateful meeting with the Skaven
that had long tried and failed to claim his head. In the heat of the assault on the gates, a horn
sounded from the peak of Karag Lhune. Down the mountain, barreling towards the front lines of the
Skaven, lumbering packs of Ogre Mercenaries and Mournfang Cavalry answered the call. Taken totally
by surprise, the Skaven morale shattered, and the rat packs fell back to Grobi town, their retreat
covered by deadeye snipers pelting into the fat bodies of the ogres. When it seemed that the
dwarves were gaining a foothold, another surprise attack yet again turned the tides of battle.
From the mines, Skarsnik’s greenskins sprung the promised attack on the unsuspecting Hall
of Clan Skalfdon. Besieged from both over and under their mountain, word quickly spread of
Skarsnik’s successful capture of the Clan Hall. Upon receiving the news, the Ogre Mercenaries
betrayed the dwarfs and began a renewed assault on the Great Gate of Defiance. The absolute chaos
of the quickly changing tide of battle led to a slaughter of dwarfs, ogre, orc and Skaven alike.
The Grey Seer Kranskritt, leading the expertly timed final wave of Skaven reinforcements
up from the trenches and caves, called upon his magic. The rocks and tunnels collapsed in the
mines and Skalfdon clan hall, trapping Skarsnik’s greenskins inside. Queek’s frontline committed
to another charge at the gates in the chaos, forcing the ogres to retreat and the dwarves
to fall back into the King’s Hall. The warrior king Belegar met Queek in single combat,
refusing to capitulate to the Skaven invaders. “Pathetic. Flea-ridden vermin,
swift and twitchy. There's not a Dwarf alive who isn't worth twenty of you."
"Queek has killed many hundred beard-things. Queek will kill one more very soon."
"Probably. I am tired, and I am beaten, and the memory of our last encounter
festers still in my flesh. But even as you hack the head from my neck, Queek,
you will know that you could never best me in more honourable circumstances."
—Belegar Ironhammer faces Queek Headtaker Surrounded by the spear points of Queek’s Red
Guard, the King and the Warlord duelled for what seemed like hours. Only when the King’s body
could stand no longer did Queek land the Dwarf Gouger’s spike through Belegar’s helmet, Queek
himself simultaneously sustaining a near-fatal wound under his armpit. Bloodied and battered,
Queek claimed Belegar’s head for a trophy. No dwarf nor greenskin survived as rats poured
into the tunnels, and then Eight Peaks came under total control of the Under Empire.
In just as devastating as a loss in Karak Eight Peaks, Slayer Keep in the north was
lost to the genius of Ikit Claw after the entire hold is suffocated with clouds of
toxic gas. At the last possible moment, a wind of magic sailed in through the mountain
gates and found the last of the remaining dwarfs awaiting their agonising death defending Karak
Kadrin. The wind of Aqshy, the Lore of Fire, bound itself to the Slayer King Ungrim Ironfist.
A maelstrom of purging fire veiled itself around the last of the Karak Kadrin garrison and banished
any trace of the toxic miasma. Left behind were uncountable dwarven casualties, and with a
heavy and angered heart Ungrim made his way south to the dwarven capital of Karaz-a-Karak.
Refugees poured into Karaz-a-Karak with grave news of the cracked moon, the endless tides
of rats, a broken empire and the return of Nagash. High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer,
unable to ignore the signs of the times, ordered the greatest vaults of weapons to
be opened and prepared his throngs for war. "For the entirety of my reign I have desired
to march out with the axe-hosts of the dawi kingdoms and exterminate the Skaven. Time and
again I argued that this alone would save our kind. But you counselled against it, you and your
like, Nockkim. And so we find ourselves skulking like trapped badgers in our hole, while our enemy,
allowed to grow unchecked to uncountable numbers, plots our final demise. No more!"
—High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer. Ikit, descended from the north, while
Queek with Grey Lord Kasritt from the south closed in on the Silver Road. At this
point, the skaven numbered in the millions, and converged onto the Granite Gate.
Assaults on the defences were daily, seldom giving the dwarfs time to breath and
organise a counter to the innumerable rats. An enormous belching of warpfire melted down Granite
Gate just as the King emerged with ironbreaker infantry and irondrake flamethrowers, but fifty
cannons managed to fire their payload in the last moment and obliterate the streaming tide of
skavenslaves aiming to contest the King’s arrival. Out of the smoke billowing off the squashed legion
of skavenslaves, a mighty Verminlord stepped out of a portal and onto the Silver Road before
the Granite Gate. The High King challenged the Verminlord to a duel, and in a shocking blow
through the King’s runic Armour of Skaldour; none before had ever cracked it. When it
seemed that the war had been so easily won, Thorgrim’s armour shone like silver as another
wind of magic found its target. Chamon, the Lore of Metal, bound to the High King
and reinvigorated the warrior. He exploded in righteous rage and hacked the Verminlord with
the Axe of Grimnir, turning to shout his demands of vengeance to the shocked onlooking Skaven army.
"For the death of Hengo Baldusson and the loss of ninety-seven ore carts of gromril, five hundred
thaggoraki heads. For the loss of the lower deeps of Karak Varn, two thousand thaggoraki hides.
For the cruel slaying of the last kinsfolk of Karak Azgal, nine hundred tails and hides. For
the slaughter of the miners of Karak Akrar, fifty thaggoraki hides! For the deaths of
Runelord Krag and his seven apprentices, and the loss of the rune of persistence, nine
hundred tails! For the warpstone poisoning of the Drak River, the life of Ikit Claw!
For Karaz-a-Karak! For the Karaz Ankor!" —High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer,
Last King of Karaz Aknor. [Battle of Karaz-a-Karak]
Lines of smoke burst from the King’s missile infantry onto the onlooking Skaven. The skies
above the Silver Road turned dark from massive magical pollution coming from the north. Organ
guns were wheeled to the melted gates and began peppering the skaven backlines with devastating
barrages. Warp lightning cannons traded fire with the dwarves, streaking green crackling blasts
across the valley. A rush of doom-flayers weave an advance towards the King’s front line, but
they and the clanrats in their wake were blown to smithereens by cannons expertly hidden in
the surrounding rocks and bluffs of the gate. Hoping to secure a path for their allies
aboveground, a surprise pack of clanrats emerge from freshly gnawed tunnels under the gate.
For a moment, the guns and cannons silenced their thunderous bombardment, and it seemed as if the
dwarves had retreated into the mountain. The skaven war machines approached the wounded gate
unchallenged, and just as they had begun to fire the door to the kingdom flung open. Thousands
of howling beards charged out of the gate, following the Throne of Power and reclaiming
control of the disrupted war machines. Falling for the false retreat, the first
skaven wave suffered a decisive defeat and the lightning cannons were obliterated. Armed with
rune-infused weapons, the dwarves established an uncontestable killing zone, burning a bloody path
through the Skaven by the thousands. The dwarven charge proved so effective that they managed to
carve a way into the Rictus and Mors encampments nearby and destroy the reserve artillery.
Ikit Claw and a regiment of stormvermin and warpfire throwers emerged from hidden tunnels
and doused the High King’s frontline. Amazingly, the dwarves marched through the warpfire unharmed
and collided in melee with the ratmen. Again, the skaven routed, and the momentum of victory
seemed to sway to the side of the dwarves. But as a brigade of doomwheels rolled up and over the
hills, Thorgrim realized he had made a critical error: his forces had strayed too far from
the mountain, and were about to pay the price. Speeding down the slope and crackling with
unstable warp lightning, the doomwheels punched through the armor of the dwarves and careened
wildly across the lines of infantry. Packs of skavenslaves rushed into the gaps and began
isolating the dwarven companies. Once Thorgrim and his everguard were cut off from the bulk of his
forces, Queek rushed out from the skaven mobs with powerful rat ogres and the Red Guard, crashing
into the throng protecting Thorgrim. Overwhelmed by the concentration of force, the Everguard began
to lose ground. The King prepared to retreat, but at the final moment a hailing of arrows pelted
the flank of the Red Guard. From the foothills, Ungrim Ironfist sallied out with Bugman’s Rangers
to smite Queek’s brazen attack. Panicked by the effective flank, skaven nightrunners dive
into the brush around the rangers to try and stall their advance, but were slaughtered by the
superior warriors. The moment had been granted for Thorgrim to enact vengeance, and so he shouted
aloud the payment he demanded from the Skaven. "For the Battle of Karak Azul, the head of
Queek. For the killing of Belegar Angrund, rightful king of Karak Eight Peaks, the head
of Queek. For the death of many thousand dawi, the head of Queek. Now die, you
miserable son of the sewers." —High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer,
Last King of Karaz Aknor. The Throne of Power was carried into single
combat with Queek. The rat placed his faith in his armour piercing Dwarf Gouger, but
Thorgrim parried and cleaved the infamous dawi-killing weapon in two with his runic axe. The
King’s gauntlet swatted Queek’s sidesword away, and thrust his hand in a crushing hold over the
rat’s throat. Holding him high in his crushing grasp for his warriors to see, Thorgrim
shakes the Skaven’s body, snaps his neck, and casts him aside with the many thousands
of dead rats around. Queek had been defeated, and a massive rout rippled through the Skaven
ranks as the dwarfs secured the Silver Road. Gyrobombers circled around the silver road and
bombarded the Skaven as they evacuated the valley. Thorgrim looked around the valley, the heavy cost
to his kingdom weighing on his heart. Heavier, and heavier he felt… until he realised that the
invigorating power had left him entirely. His armour lost its gleam and the Rune of Azamar,
an artefact said to have been crafted by the Ancestor God himself, sustained a crack. It was
said that as long as the rune endured, so would the Dwarf race… The King kept this damning secret
to himself as he sulked back to the mountain. Telling none of the loss of the Rune, he
climbed the thousands of concealed steps to the highest mountain and remembered the names
and clans of each dwarf that had perished to save the kingdom. At the roof of the world, he
finally attained some sense of ease, overlooking the long horizon of the Kingdom. Unbeknownst to
Thorgrim, a shadow had followed him all the way to the peak. When his back was turned, the shadow
leapt from concealment and plunged thrice-blessed warp blades through the Great Armor of Skaldour.
Deathmaster Snikch, chief assassin of Clan Eshin had snuck in and ended the reign of the High King.
As the life left Thorgrim’s eyes, a portal between worlds tore open and ushered even more hundreds
of damnable rats onto the mountain. On that day, Karaz-a-Karak finally fell to the rats…
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