There are but a few legends that awaken such curiosity and bitterness within even the dreariest of dwarfs as the tales of the lost strongholds of the Karak Ankor and even the ones that still stand proud and defiant against a sea of darkness. These are the tales of the dwarf holds. A vast realm that is now shattered under the heavy burden of countless tragedies and unrelenting war. It is a pale shadow of its former glory. This is the second part of the Karaz Ankor episode in which we will explore the many dwarf holds that still exist in the Old World and beyond. Many have already fallen at the hands of the uncountable enemies of the dawi, while others still stand like a dim light against an ever encroaching darkness. The heart ache of every dwarf is undoubtedly the loss of the once glorious Kingdom of Karak Eight Peaks. From the days it was first built during the Golden Age until its downfall, the Kingdom rivaled even the Everpeak with its beauty and riches. Hidden within a sunken valley crowned by eight majestic mountain summits, the glorious surface citadel of the Kingdom sat atop the largest network of mines overflowing with precious jewels and untold riches. Whilst countless attempts by foul creatures to conquer the city above ground failed due to its protection by the mountains surrounding it, the disaster came from the depths of the rocks so familiar to the dwarfs. Crawling through the tunnels of the Underway, uncountable skaven attacked and gained control of multiple underground levels and settlements. For many years, the dwarfs contained the majority of the attacks, however, they were forced to retreat one level after another until the sole chance at survival was to abandon their home. With heavy hearts and promises of vengeance, the last dwarfs abandoned their once mighty home, adding a significant grudge into the Damaz Kron. Subsequently, the chambers and the plazas became swarmed with bands of orcs, goblins, trolls, skaven and many other dangerous creatures that lurk amongst the shadows, all battling amongst themselves for the ultimate supremacy of the once beloved Kingdom of the dwarfs. Blood is shed every day above and beneath the mountains in a fight for control of the damned hold. Over the long ages since the days of King Lunn who came to be the last Dwarf King of Karak Eight Peaks before abandoning the hold, many attempts were made to regain the rule of the city. Yet, the swamp that spread into the Kingdom from its deepest tunnels up until the citadel was too thick to clear. One after another, the descendants of King Lunn lived and died far away from the distant dreams of their fallen home. Finally, after a time that seemed like eternity, Belegar managed to reclaim the citadel with the help of the High King and Thorek Ironbrow. Although the subterranean networks and chambers still belongs to the creatures that were not meant to own it, Belegar's victory spread hope in the hearts of their brethren all over the Worlds Edge Mountains. There are three main factions fighting a cruel war of attrition for control of this vast hold. Queek Headtaker, the Lord of the City of Pillars and Warlord of Clan Mors. Skarsnik, King of the Eight Peaks, chieftain of the Crooked Moon Tribe and Belegar Ironhammer, leader of the Angrund Clan and rightful ruler of Karak Eight Peaks. Constant warfare and unceasing attacks are part of the daily life in this place, for no faction is willing to let go of their hold of Karak Eight Peaks. Below the mountain ranges of the Worlds Edge Mountains rages a bloody war that is far from over. Inch by inch, tunnel by tunnel, each step forward is paid in blood. So the battle drags on... and on... Not a day goes by in Karak Eight Peaks without some plot, probing raid, ambush, assassination attempt or full scale assault. With every attack, tunnel invasion or counter-attack, the unforgiving warfare under the tunnels evolves. We will explore the ongoing conflict surrounding Karak Eight Peaks in a future video, but the fate of the greenkins and skaven that have infested the place is already written in the Great Book of Grudges and the retaking of the mighty hold has been sworn by many living dwarfs. The unexpected fall of the ancient Kingdom Karak Ungor became the first great loss for the dwarfs during the Goblin Wars. Prior to its downfall, the inhabitants of Karak Ungor relished the ores excavated from the deepest mines beneath their feet. Digging further down towards the heart of the bedrock, they eventually depleted some of the mountains resources and abandoned most of the tunnels. The consequences of this action were not foreseen at the time for there was no creature known to dwell underground other than the dwarfs themselves. After the mountains quivered with terrible earthquakes during the times of the Great Catastrophe, the passages and tunnels under Karak Ungor cracked and many crumbled far from sight. Out of such fissures poured the Night Goblins of the Red Eye Tribe, filling the tunnels like rising water. All the while, King Morek Stonehammer and his army were still marching to the West and by the time they came back to the fortress city, their Kingdom was far gone. Infested with goblins of all sizes and shapes, they had conquered all in their path and slaughtered hundreds of the noble dwarfs. Cut off from their home by the impenetrable walls and gates that they proudly built themselves and the unexpected numbers of goblins from the Red Eye Tribe, the dwarfs of Karak Ungor retreated to the neighboring Kingdoms of Karak Kadrin and Zhufbar. So was the mighty Karak Ungor taken from its builders and conquered by the filthy greenskins that called their new base the Red Eye Mountain. The chambers where the statues of ancient Kings once stood are now gory and stinking battlefields where the goblins and the skaven horde fight for the command of the city. When approximately five hundred years passed since the loss of the hold, King Skorri Morgrimson led an assault to reclaim their rightful place. During the Battle of a Thousand Woes, the dwarfs managed to cut down thousands of greenskins and got a hold on the southern valley and main gate, but unfortunately they were unable to get into the citadel itself. The goblins of the Red Eye tribe attacked relentlessly at the dwarfs and after many confrontations and sustained losses, the dwarf army was forced to abandon their attempts and return to Karaz a Karaz, decimated and in failure. Under a heavy sorrow and shame, King Skorri passed his crown to his younger cousin Rogni Stonehammer and took the slayer’s oath, leaving by his own to seek his destiny. It is said that he died shortly afterwards. Time has passed, but the real owners of the Kingdom have never forgotten their home, three High Kings have been slain in their attempts to take back Karak Ungor. It is perhaps the High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer who will finally succeed in leading a dwarf army into the city and reclaim the home of his brethren. But to accomplish this feat, thousands upon thousands of greenskins and skaven must be slain before even attempting to establish a hold on the once proud dwarf kingdom. Dwarfs who left their ancestral home in the Southlands and journeyed North along the Worlds Edge Mountains. As time passed, they spread amongst the mountain and over a period of many hundreds of years they excavated cavernous underground cities, sank mines deep into the mountain roots and constructed tunnels which carried them further north. A handful of them moved forward towards the east upon arriving in the Great Skull Land. The sanest of them all turned back west and followed the southern veins of the Worlds Edge Mountains to settle in familiar ground. A group of hardier ones headed further into Norsca, where they established themselves despite the unforgiving weather and the proximity to the Chaos Wastes. Conditions were harsh already, yet there were a few exceptionally stubborn clans who adventured deep into the hostile Mountains of Mourn. With time and the coming of Chaos from the north in the event of the Great Catastrophe, the connection all these drifters maintained with their kin in the West grew faint and ultimately disappeared altogether. The Dwarfs of the East based their head seat in the city of Uzkulak, also known as the Place of the Skull. The rest of the dwarfs of the Karaz Ankor believed their kin dead, lost against countless corrupted hordes and tribes in service to the Chaos gods. But the dwarfs that remained there, as stubborn as they are, resisted the tides. Yet, survive they did, not as the beings they once were but as something sinister unseen among the dwarfs of the Old World. At an uncertain time and perhaps for an uncertain reason, the dwarfs of the East abandoned their ancestral Gods and turned to the evil bull god Hashut, the Father of Darkness, as they call that entity. Some say that this was their only way to survive the living nightmare of Chaos that haunted them every day. By worshipping a being of utter malice and greed, the dwarfs rejected the elder traditions and embraced Chaos, from then on turning into Chaos dwarfs and condemning themselves to eternal torment. What was once deemed honorable was forgotten and the binding oaths were broken. Chaos worked a cruel change upon them. Desire of sovereignty corrupted their hardened hearts as their souls went astray. The magic users who were once the Runesmiths were granted terrible magic powers and arose quickly as the ruler priests of their condemned society. Advancing further than any other dwarf magic practitioner, the Daemonsmiths mastered the ways of dark sorcery and bending the fires of hell. Driven by the thirst of power and superiority, the Chaos Dwarfs created a nefarious empire ruled by cruel tyrants. Unceasingly working factories that blew black fumes into the air were built all over the Dark Lands to fuel their war industry. Their traditional knowledge in metalworks and weapon making were wholly committed to vile acts and agendas. To the dismay of their still honorable kin, the Chaos Dwarfs adopted terrible practices such mixing the pinnacle of engineering with the seemingly unlimited power granted by the Dark Gods resulting in terrible living engines of destruction that scream incessantly, seeking to destroy and devour everything they come across. Emerging as smoking constructs from their hell-forges, covered in black smoke, the warmachines shake with daemonic sentience, waiting for the darkest hour to come. We will explore the Chaos dwarfs in more depth in a future episode as their lore goes deeper and many dark secrets await to be discovered. For now, we know that the temples once built to honor the ancient dwarf Gods decayed within the chambers, Uzkulak remained bound to the rotten heart of this empire, the capital city of Zharr-Naggrund. The lower levels of the stronghold are permanently sealed shut and hidden from the curious eyes, for there are always terrible practices and machinations at work to punish the traitors and oath-breakers of the new corrupted empire. Long before the arrival of Sigmar, the dawi were still mere green in their ways of rune magic. For long years, the secret guilds of runesmiths practiced the craft and experimented to master the art. Inevitably, the differences between the practitioners resulted in much tension and they bickered with one another. There were some who favored caution and discipline, and some who wished to see how far they could push this unique form of magic. Not long after, the dwarfs who longed to test the limits of their powers split from their brethren and travelled far up north where the strong magical energy was abundant yet untamed. During their journey, the departed clans first arrived in a dreadful place where the winds blew dust from the ancient fields of bones. Troubled by the evil that still seemed to have a grasp on the unclean ground, they hastily left the plateau that is called the Great Skull Land. But a number of them remained. Some of the bravest amongst them chose to travel afar into the mountains of Norsca and burrowed new holds for themselves. The wealthiest and the strongest of those holds was built atop an iron mountain that was then known as Kraka Drak, the Dragon Hold. Settled atop rich reserves of sapphire and silver, the dwarfs of Kraka Drak prospered despite the constant warfare with Chaos monsters, giants, ice drakes and other nameless creatures mutated beyond recognition. After surviving centuries in the Chaos corrupted lands and being separated from their kin by great distances, the Norscan dwarfs became further isolated from the rest of the world. Through time, their culture and language changed so much their customs became unrecognizable to their relatives in the South. More often than not, the dwarfs of the Worlds Edge Mountains compare the oddities of their estranged cousins to those of the Norscan men with whom they interacted often. Grim as the barren mountains they occupy and stubborn as the enemies they endure. Many who speak of this, act unsurprised for it is only but predicted to go ravidly mad living so close to the Chaos Wastes and neighbor the men who worship Chaos. For centuries Kraka Drak remained the capital of the Norscan strongholds. One after another, the Great Kings of the city welcomed the representatives of the other Norscan cities in their great timber halls above the surface. Important matters were annually overseen during the Feast of Grungni and the Althing of the Ancestors, where the kinship in the North was further strengthened. It was in the age of the King Thorgard Cromson when the Great War against Chaos dawned on the World and the darkness arrived. Realizing the urgency of the matters, King Cromson answered the call of the High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer and joined his forces to aid Kislev in their time of desperation. After ages of separation, the near end of the world had brought the Kings beside one another and their people closer. The oaths of alliances were repeated and the rings of kinship were exchanged to remember the common foe and the fight against the ever encroaching darkness. Karak Azorn was one of the few strongholds built in the unwelcoming territory of the Mountains of Mourn. Its crafters were dwarfs set on a mission to find the legendary Mountain of Gold, which was believed to be located eastward into the yet to be discovered, desolated mountains. During one of such expeditions, a clan of the fable pursuing dwarfs stumbled upon a mountain rich in minerals to mine. After deciding to excavate a new home for themselves, they axed and carved the bedrock, establishing the second largest dwarf stronghold in the Mountains of Mourn. Their fortress was built strong and rigid to endure the spiteful creatures lurking in the mountains and the forceful blizzards, it is said that these blizzards were so intense and unnatural that they flung giant boulders against their walls. Their rune-inscribed gates were hidden and well-protected against the enemies they were yet to meet. The terrible fate of the stronghold was sealed the moment an Orc-Hunter laid his eyes on the city by sheer luck. The loathsome dweller lost no time to carry the word to none less than Thogub Smashclub, the ruler of the Angry Fist tribe. Although surprised by the existence of the settlement, the ruthless tyrant was neither a stranger to the delicious meat of a dwarf nor to the treasures known to be hidden in a dwarf hold or settlement. Followed by his bloodthirsty and greedy horde of frenzied ogres, Thogub marched to the gates of Karak Azorn. The city was smaller than the strongholds he had seen during his days in the Worlds Edge Mountains, yet, Thogub was still met with the same dwarf mastery in defense. Failing to breach the doors and smash down the walls, the stubborn tyrant still refused to fall back. The siege turned into a battle of wills for many years as the dwarfs showed great resilience to the sway of despair. Occasionally, a small group of ogres would manage to find a weak tunnel entrance to crawl through, only to be slain at the end of a sharp axe by the furious dwarfs. Finally, at the command of Thogub Smashclub, the ogres captured and tamed three gigantic Stonehorns to use their brute force to blast the gates. The massive impact of the clash knocked down the main gate and sent the dwarf warriors flying across the courtyard. The ogre legions then rushed across the upper levels and sliced through the unfortunate defenders that stood no chance against the seemingly unstoppable wave of ogre infantry. On their way to the floors beneath the surface, the Ogres had finally laid their meaty hands on the prize, which they thought was even better than the riches hidden in the hold; the glorious dwarf ale. The slaughter was quickly halted and the Ogres built a giant bonfire in the great hall of Karak Azorn in triumph. As the stolen ale was gulped keg after keg, the roaring ogres roasted the still fresh meat of the dwarfs on the sizzling flames. The black smoke of the fire soon reached the noses of the remaining dwarfs in the treasure hall, where they stood on guard around their King. Almost frozen in place from terror, the mortified warriors waited for the ogres to make their appearance. To their surprise, the ruler of the Angry Fist tribe left them free and carried on with the great feast. Confused and terrorized, the dwarfs left their doomed home and ran along the slopes of the mountain to escape a terrible death. Thogub Smashclub was delighted with the victory and was certainly not growing merciful, for his intention was only as mischievous as it was to be expected from his kind. Soon after the bellies were full, the ogres would go after the Dwarfs again. The rumors had it that the meat tasted better when infused with the fear of their prey. To the East of Karak Ungor, dwarfs used to dig for silver and other minerals in the deep mines of the Silver Pinnacle. The spacious rooms and countless levels of the mountain were promptly taken from them in one night by brute force. The new master, or rather the mistress of the Silver Pinnacle was an unexpected enemy, a queen of deadly beauty who commanded an army of Undead. The unexpected and swift victory of the Vampire Queen soon found a lengthy entry in the Great Book of Grudges and in the hearts of the never forgetting dwarfs. After the fall of her birth city Lahmia, Queen Neferata and her priestesses fled from the crushing forces of Alcadizaar and then from the tyrannical grasp of Nagash, for Neferata desired no master other than herself. Following long years of exile in the shadows of the Old World, Neferata and her loyal followers of the sisterhood finally found a new home within the thick walls of the Silver Pinnacle. The mountain became the shelter wherein Neferata would endure the coming centuries and pull the strings of many puppets all over the world in disguise. The dwarfs would know her as the Queen of Evil. The sinister heart of the Queen desires many things of the world, but her greatest wish is to lead an empire of the undead from her seat in Lahmia. Yet, Nehekara is still ruled by the Tomb Kings and taking back what is hers, demands the Queen’s patience and preparation in the safety of her new home. However, if she were to wait in the gloomy chambers of the Silver Pinnacle, then the remnants of any dwarf resistance had to disappear. With the most ancient statues of the dwarf Gods and Goddesses demolished, one has to dig deep to find traces of the time of the dwarfs in the halls of the Silver Pinnacle. There are only but a few chambers in the stronghold where the sunlight shines through and the rest seems to be covered with a thick blanket of darkness. Upon entering the dim rooms lit with torches, one can smell the sweet scent of oils and strange perfumes. The mysterious and beloved pure bred cats of Neferata roam the halls and the passages embellished with symbols in High Nehekharan, almost as if spying on the Queens subjects. The undead wardens fully dressed in black patrol the courtyard and the corridors of the transformed city. Lahmian women of extraordinary beauty and skill are invited to the Silver Pinnacle to be trained as the handmaidens of the Queen; learning magic, disguise and manipulation to serve the desires of Neferata. The women who prove to be worthy of the Lahmian Sisterhood are allowed in this exclusive sect. Once fully trained, they are to leave the Silver Pinnacle and infiltrate kingdoms, courts and ruling royalty to manipulate the world under the commands of the Queen. Others who remain as Neferata’s handmaidens form the Deathless Court of the Silver Pinnacle. Their days are spent tending to the Queen’s needs, teaching the ways of Lahmia to the youngbloods and practicing their alluring techniques on the select few visitors of the city. As the true identity and the nature of the palace and above all, that of its Queen, is to be kept secret, only a few naive Knights of Bretonnia and some trading merchants with luxurious goods are granted passage. Those who are allowed to enter the mountain are bewildered to see the reflection of the ancient Lahmia under the snow blanket that covers the peaks. In the occasions when the queen herself meets with the handful privileged visitors in her chamber, none can set their eyes upon Neferata as her face is hidden behind seven silken veils. Upon meeting the mesmerizing beauty of the handmaidens dressed in exotic clothes, some of the mortal men never leave the gates of the city. However, the disturbing rumors passed on in the villages and small settlements nearby are contradicted by the lucky visitors of the castle, who dismiss the superstitious fools. Instead, they spread wild stories of the rich and mysterious countess of the Silver Pinnacle and the feasts she throws in the honor of her guests. Many fall for this bait and willingly enter the realm of the Evil Queen only to never come back. The past of the dawi is rooted deep within the mountains that shape the backbone of the world. Since the first of the dwarf Kings were born from the rocks of the mountains, their bloodline travelled far and wide to conquer every mountain top. The enigma surrounding this mysterious kingdom sparks yet more wonder in the minds of the dwarf royals and commons alike. Aside from the mystery of its location, merely the existence of this legendary place is a subject of doubt. It is often in the good company of the fellow dwarfs, or rather in the better company of a proper Bugmans beer, one begins to talk about the lost riches of Karak Zorn. Whether these stories are true or not, the eyes of the listeners’ shine in awe upon hearing about the underground city carved within a mountain of gold. Precious elements nested in the deep veins under the mountain are rumored to be so abundant that the dwarfs of Karak Zorn supposedly used diamonds and rubies for their everyday currency. The gems adorning the giant ivory gates of the stronghold shone brightly upon the friends of the dawi, while granting no passage to their enemies. Yet, nowadays, the doors are even invisible to the kin of their own masters. Karak Zorn is said to have been built by the dwarfs, who left their ancestral homeland and journeyed far into the core of the Southlands. If this is to be believed, then this unique settlement was set upon the white capped mountains looming over the wild jungles that covered a vast tropical continent. Driven by the legends of old, more than a few embarked upon long and often perilous journeys to find the lost Kingdom, all in vain. Ambiguous maps claiming to show the secret paths to the gates of Karak Zorn are still passed down and sold for a fortune. None of which suggests the same location, yet each different route inspires a new wave of treasure hunters who pay no mind to the warnings of the seasoned explorers. Far too many adventurers of young and fools brave the heat of the misty jungles and the icy winds of the mountains, to never return home again. There are yet some who swear to have happened upon the hidden gates of Karak Zorn by sheer luck or midst an expedition, but never again could they track their steps back. Such claims are almost always ignored by all but a few, for even the promising clues seem to lead to a dead end time after time. Some believe that Karak Zorn has existed in the past but perished due to an unknown disastrous war or a similar fate. Bordered by cursed and treacherous lands to the east and west, the dwarfs of Karak Zorn doubtlessly endured regular attacks from Orcs and other creatures unseen in the Old World. Perhaps their paths crossed with the Lizardmen of the Southlands, if so, whether this encounter was of friendly nature or not, is not registered in the books known to the dwarf lorekeepers.
