The Coming of Morgrar
In this year of our Lord Falgrim Rundskarl the Orcs & Goblins of the foul Morgrar encroached on the dawi lands once more. Thane Rundskarl was sent word of attacks in the valleys leading to the Empire of Men and so sent a vanguard forth to do battle with the massing horde. At the spring of a small river they did battle and the Thane sent Morgrar with his head held low back to the hills.

A week later reports were heard of Morgrar setting up camp around a destroyed Sigmarite temple. On arrival Morgrar was in full defence of the ramshackle camp and had desecrated the proud human God’s temple. Rundskarl while losing a number of Thunderers and his cannon ‘Wyrmsnout’ was able to rout Morgrar from the temple grounds and secured it for the arrival of Sigmarite priests who arrived to cleanse the lands. At this point Rundskarl did make a pact with the leader of the Sigmarites to send gold to the Hold of Kazar-Gromthi in recompense for the destroyed cannon and the lost guns.

A third attack came when the army was moving back towards the Hold. On the journey Morgrar attacked the travelling army and a desperate battle was fought. It seemed Morgrar had managed to bring more greenskins to bear with a grobi catapult of insidious design and more of their infernal night goblins. Despite heavy losses the army made it back to the hold and made ready to raise a new army to attack once more. In a few weeks the Thane had walked out once more, with Urgrim Thunderbrew his cousin in tow holding the Holds banner aloft. They met Morgrar once more and again foul magic destroyed the two cannons bought to the battle. It was another bloody battle, with losses heavy on both sides. Both Falgrim & Thunderbrew returned to the Hold alive but a bitter grudge was written against Morgrar that day.

The Thunderhoof Tribe
After the battles with Morgrar and his grobbi allies it came as a surprise for the Thane to hear news of a tribe of Ogres marching down through the valleys towards their Hold. Knowing that Ogres, while a despicable race can be plied with gold Thane Rundskarl marched forth with his army to deliver a treaties to the Ogres. His plan was to avoid a battle with the titanic foes and then use their muscle to oust the Orcs & Goblins from the lands around his hold. Unfortunately all did not go well as a gnoblar scouting party was butchered by his own warriors, the hatred for greenskins of any kind taking hold. This did not settle well with the Ogre leader who ordered an attack at dawn the next day. Battle was joined around a ruined watchtower that had once guarded the valley. Wyrmsnout had been rebuilt for the battles ahead and managed to kill one of the deadly Gut magic users, a cannon ball sinking right into its bulbous head.

The battle was not without deaths however. The cannon was crushed once again by a Gouger, a terrifying beast of the Ogres which slunk from a nearby cave. It also killed many thunderers who fought bravely to defend against the bloody beast. The battle ended with Thane Rundskarl pulling his forces back to the gates of Kazar Gromthi once more, looking back to his maps and books of tactics for what to do next.

The fall of Balgrim ‘Gutripper’
A special note should be made concerning the fate of one Balgrim ‘Gutripper’ as he has become known to his fellows. In a battle with the deadly Morgrar, Balgrim was charged with cleansing a large watchtower of grobbi filth. He charged the building, slaying all within despite taking grievous wounds with many arrows piercing his body. Onlookers then saw him face down the attacks of maniacal night goblins who charged in shortly afterwards to take back the tower. Again Balgrim butchered many, but a lucky spear strike coated in deadly green poison skewered his ribcage and despite killing many others he was bought low. Once the battle had died away rangers were sent to reclaim his body and despite the night goblins taking the tower he was largely untouched. His axes have been taken to the treasure vaults, his grim grudge stricken from the record and honour restored.

Battle at the Waterfall
We met the Ogres at the top of the valley. One small route was behind us, leading back to the Hold and safety. At the centre of our battle line was the plunge pool of a great waterfall which, to our dismay as we approached had been defiled by a despicable artefact of the dark elves, how it had got here we did not know. Our Thane Rundskarl took the position next to the shrine of the enemy, vowing that he would smash the thing to pieces when the battle was done. The rest of our army, set up along the bottom of the high cliffs. No retreat, no surrender.

The Ogres of the Thunderhoof tribe arrived with a shuddering of the ground beneath our feet. It was not long before a vast array of the giant foe were filling the narrow gap at the valley entrance, and battle would soon be joined. It was only then that I saw our grand Thanes plan fully, and realised its genius. The Ogres would have to run many leagues to close with us, and our cannons, a newly forged Organ Gun and a regiment of battle hardened Thunderers would lay down a withering hail of fire onto their advance. This was joined by the rallying horn of our Runesmith Gorni Smithson. He carried with the fabled Horn of Dismay which would shake the very souls of the Ogres as they closed to us.

The battle was a bloody and difficult affair for many of us. Firing had to come constantly, and the ammo supplies of all the guns at our disposal dwindled to dangerous levels. Our brave Thanes cousin Urgrim Thunderbrew slew the armies general, running him down with the banner of our Hold fluttering in the breeze. A special mention in this journal should go to Borri Huwber, a veteran warrior who went toe to toe with the great Butcher of the Ogres and held him back valiantly, routing the beast.

Our Thanes guard however took the brunt of the fighting. Rundskarl faced off against a second Butcher, slaying him with his flashing rune axe. His warriors hacked down the Butchers bodyguard. But, just as they turned to face a new threat, the very river around their boots turned blood red. A terrifying host of Mournfangs burst through the shallows and crashed into their flank, killing all but our Thane. He fought like a demon possessed, slicing down one of the great beasts before they turned and fled back to the mouth of the valley after their leaders demise.

Not a single warrior was left in his regiment after the battle cries were bought low to murmurs of respect. Rundskarl then turned and destroyed the druchii shrine, striking it to the ground and splintering the stone. The river soon turned back to clear blue soon after. Still, something is wrong about our Thane and I must ask Gorni to look to his health once we return to the Hold.

We plan the funerals of our fallen brethren today and make ready an envoy to send to the Thunderhoof leader, with their defeat in the valley surely they will not turn back against us again. A slayer has also arrived at our hearth, a string of goblin and orc heads attached to his belt. Maybe he will be of use in the coming weeks. He brings news of Morgrar’s horde delving into some of the abandoned mines, news of foul squigs is not welcome.

We wait for the next battle, and the arrival of a cadre of slayers from the north.

Cheers @lowjacker – trying to use this as a way of documenting my time with the dwarf army, give it a bit of character and try and take it in a narrative direction.

The Fall of Thane Rundskarl
Bolgran Daemonfoe told us of the joining of the Orcs & Goblins and the foul Ogres approaching our Hold. We had made preparations for the defence of our home, clearing the lumber mills and blacksmiths outside the front gates. The last to be cleared would be the brewery which was hastening to get as many kegs back to the Hold as possible. The master brewer Glim Frothfolk vowed to stay to the bitter end before he moved his small band of brewers back into the confines of the first level. Still, the enemy came quicker than we had imagined. I now give you a count of all who defended our Hold on that day.

60 Warriors in all, 40 armed with great weapons to fell the ogres. 20 with axe and shield. The shield warriors held the brewery to the last. 20 Ironbreakers held the front gate, ready to repel any who tried to enter the tunnels down into our home. 20 Thunderers stood towards the back of our force. 2 Cannons prized and revered by our clan held the high ground, while an organ gun sat towards the centre of our force. Miners had also been called to come to our aid, but we never saw them even though we found a broken steam drill towards the back of the field after the fighting was done. Leading our clansmen was Flagrim Rundskarl himself. Our lord was still taken ill from his last fight and so despite sluggish motion he still fought on. Urgrim held the standard aloft with the unit of Ironbreakers, promising that he would make sure to keep the royal line if our Thane fell. Gorni stood towards the centre of our lines, making sure he could see the foul spellcasters of the enemy. Bolgran Daemonfoe knew of a strange creature named a gorger which had been seen in the mountains and so vowed to defeat it if it came near our rear.

The battle was fierce. Despite our guns firing constantly and holding the flanks for many an hour the enemy still pressed on. Gorni was the first to fall, the fell monstrous mounts of the Ogres running him down as he fought to keep them at bay. This was the start of a terrifying onslaught. Our Thanes unit was too destroyed till it was him alone, standing atop his fathers oathstone. Bolgran ran to his aid, but it was too late to save our Thane. As if in slow motion, one of the foul projectiles of the grobi sailed through the air and smashed into his chest. Our Thane fell, rising slowly to kill the damned grobi before collapsing. Bolgran slew the Gorger and turned his attention to the foul wolf riders running towards his corpse.

Across the battlefield, our kin were falling. The Orc leader Morgrar was nowhere to be seen, instead an eldritch Orc had taken his place. Through foul magic he had made his Orc bodyguard nearly unkillable, but still it took many hours before the brewery finally fell. The last we saw of Glim was his hammer rising and falling atop the roof before a goblin stabbed him between the ribs. Once the brewery had fallen, our resolve was faltering. Bolgran was ran down by a chariot, but not before he severed the head from one of the boars and killed the driver. Urgrim and his Ironbreakers were the last alive before long. They killed almost half the Ogre force, driving the leader of the Thunderhoof tribe back into the foothills. Knowing that the battle was not going in their favour, he led his Ironbreakers back into the tunnel and on our Thanes orders, sealed the gromril doors shut.

They waited for many hours. The looting could be heard, and at one point the Orcs and their foul allies tried to break down the doors. Still, gromril plate is hard to pierce and so the Ironbreakers and Ugrim waited. When the sounds above had gone the door was opened and our Thanes cousin went in search of his body. Bolgran was slumped over his still form, many spears and short swords in his body but his runic axe still gripped in both hands. He had protected him until he could do no more. With reverence Urgrim lifted our Thane onto his shoulders and took him back inside the Hold to his waiting Queen and the rest of our kin who were too old, or young to fight. It is indeed a sad day and a grudge has been set for all those who died that day, to avenge them by slaying the foul Orc leader, and the Ogres who would defile our lands without honour.

The coronation of Ugrim Thunderbrew will be in three weeks time. We name him leader of our Hold and being the nearest to Rundskarl’s line will take his treasury and all under the mountain. We start our search for more Runesmiths to aid us in the future, to repel the terrifying magic we have faced. Even our runes cannot protect us against the foul spells of the Orcs and even of the Ogres. Bolgran’s kin have finally arrived at our gates, a cadre of slayers from the north. They have bought us news of Morgrar and the Ogres making camp in the lower valleys and raiding the lands of the Empire once more. We have given them what rooms we can as they await the time for battle once more. An emissary from the Empire arrived today, asking for aid. We had to send him back with no promise of help, despite our need to maintain relations with the nearby human settlements. Urgrim will deal with it once we have trained more warriors and bought them to the standard his cousin had wanted.

It is a new era, and so all grudges must be settled by our new Thane. Urgrim Thunderbrew will wipe the name of Morgrar from the histories.

The Fall of Kazar-Gromthi

We thought that we would have had more time to prepare, but as we toiled in the forges and worked to make weapons and armour to take on the forces of Morgrar and the Thunderhoof tribe, aiding the people of the Empire in turn we were met with dire news. The Thunderhoof tribe were knocking on our door and threatening the valley. Within a few hours of the news the Ogres had burnt down our lumber yards outside the gates and bought low the outer defences. And so our king, Urgrim Thunderbrew rallied the troops and bought them to defend the Hold.

We had little fire power to bring to bear, our cannons and other artillery destroyed in the previous battle. Even our great thunderers and their rifles could not be retrieved in time. And so we went to what turned out to be the last fight for the Hold. The first forays battered our forces, the giant guns of the enemy leadbelchers raining down cannon balls on our kinsmen. Bolgran’s slayer kindred were cut down by the dozen as they charged forwards. Thankfully we were covered by a cadre of rangers who had come down from the mountains. The mysterious kin of the crags covered their advance and helped in the butchering.

The battle was bloody and fierce from the start. Ogres were falling to our axes and hammers, but the toll to us was dire. The mass of muscle and heavy weapons took down even our longbeards, tired and grumbling at being entered into service. Our banner bearer was beaten down ironguts before his time, and most fateful of all was the death of our esteemed King. Urgrim was fighting with the Ironbreakers, had slain the leader of their kin and was facing the rest. But, they could not hold them, and he was gored badly, collapsing to the floor. The Ironbreakers tried to protect our liege, but to no avail, getting surrounded and killed.

This is where my knowledge of events fails. I was sent by the surviving rangers back into the Hold to get the women and children out. We led them down the ancient passage ways and to the surface atop the great mountain we dwell under. The weather cut into our skin like daggers but we had to forge on. No word had come from the battlefield as we found the secret storeroom and dwellings for our kind in times of woe. The last of the hammerers Kargun Drakeslayer is with us, his small cadre of elite troops sent to protect us, the weak and the old.

News came the next day, almost as I write this. Bolgran clambered into our small camp, covered in blood and bleeding from hideous wounds but still walking tall with the manner of a bear with a headache. He spat out a tooth and rubbed an empty eye socket as he told us the story of what had happened on the battlefield. He and his slayer kin had butchered the leadbelchers and more of the ogre bulls before turning to see the rest of the Ogre force pouring into the hold entrance. The last of his slayer brethren had died of their wounds and it was only he looking on. Knowing a slayer does not simply throw away his life carelessly he had sought us out and come to tell us of the news.

The Hold is all but finished, our King dead. His wife still dwells with us and will take control of the Hold and we will serve her to the end of our lives. Bolgran has said he will stay with us too, protecting us from the trolls and other creatures that dwell in the mountains. We will head down to the human town of Draftenburg in the coming days and seek refuge behind their walls, we have gold to pay and they will be welcome of dwarf masons and smiths. They are always in need of our expertise.

We will stage a resistance when we are able. The hold will return to our hands soon enough.

In The Dark of The Hold

We have been here in the town of Draftenburg for a few months now. While at first we were seen as outcasts, the Sigmarite Priest Dieter Wulfsung has made what is left of our hold at home here, giving us places to stay and getting us work in the forges and mills of the surrounding area. We had heard no news from the Hold, and the mountains and it seems as if the grobi scum and the Ogres that accompanied them are still within the Hold, fighting over the spoils of war. It still grieves us to remember the fallen and that our many runic weapons and talismans of old are still within the sealed vaults.

Bolgran however has been more than active in his pursuit of the enemies that burnt our Hold to the ground. He returned with knowledge of the movement within the Hold. It appears that the two one-time allies have turned on each other in the race to raze the Hold and steal all that can be stolen. The armies fought each other in one of the large rooms that boarder the barrack level, clashing between the dreaded Morgrar and the Thunderhoof leader Gutgor. Bolgran stayed for as long as he dared, and watched the Orcs & Goblins massacre what was left of the small force that had made it inside the Hold. That was when Bolgran enacted as much chaos as he could. As he left the Hold by secret ways he managed to find and kill one of the goblin shamans that frequent their pox ridden army. We could see when he returned that it had not been an easy fight, smoking wounds still covering his chest and arms. Still, he returned bringing news of the grobi movements. They have set up a base of operations within the Throne room but have failed to breach the vault despite the efforts of the Orc Shaman. While we have no force to deal with them now, it is good to know that they have not broken our ancient seals. More news comes in the form of infighting within their ranks. It seems the Black cloaked grobi are not impressed with the arrival of the Orc Shaman and a revolt is planned within their ranks. Maybe at some point in the future we can use this to our advantage.

I must get back to work in the local scriveners, translating old Khazalid documents for the bursar. It seems they are quite behind on the work that our ancestors had done, and this has helped to build relations with the men of Draftenburg. The Queen has brooded for many weeks now, I hope that she builds her strength for what is to come.

A Time for War

My studies were interrupted by news that one of our deceased Lords sons has decided to start a campaign against the armies of Orcs & Goblins who had invaded our homeland, as well as the mercenary Ogres who still dwelt down in the depths of the Hold. Our Queen, Helven stood atop the statue in the middle of Draftenburg and addresses all assembled dwarfs, and many of the people of the empire who had come to watch as well. With words laced with sadness she told of the grudge against the greenskins and ogres and how our poor Lord had died at the hands of their foul schemes. Then she turned and introduced her eldest son, Nargrond. Clad in the armour of his father, retrieved by the rangers and Bolgran he raised his axe and in a speech which stirred the hearts of all assembled he swore to retake the Hold and drive our the greenskins, bringing all grudges to reckoning. I stepped up to answer the call, and will accompany our noble leader to whatever end is decided by the old ones.

With him goes…
Imrak Drakeslayer, a warrior of great renown and banner bearer of the Hold.
Dimzad Hammerfist, one of the older Runesmiths who we hope can combat the magic of the greenskins.
Skarin Runesung, a younger Runesmith ready to prove himself on the field of battle.

Also with him are some 80 dwarfs ready for battle. Clan warriors, Ironbreakers, Thunderers and two of our greatest cannons. Also we recently acquired a Grudge Thrower from a nearby clan willing to trade, and so shall be bringing that to bear on our foes. Dimzad has inscribed both the cannons with runes to harden the metal and guide our fury, as well as a flaming rune atop the grudge thrower to add to its deadly nature. We set out from the town, waved off by the people of our Hold and the civilians of Draftenburg. The Warrior Priest of Sigmar Dieter wished to come with us, but as our Queen explained to him – this was our grudge to settle, not a humans.

The first battle came in the swamp lands to the south of the waterfalls of our hold. Our camp was raided in the early morning by greenskins intent on our destruction before we could even move ahead to the main battlefields and fighting in the Holds. Due to the nature of the attack not all of our troops were ready to repel the enemy and we were caught quite unaware. The battle was long and lasted until the blood red sun rose on the Old World, with many casualties on our side. Our Lord Nargrond was grievously wounded on the field of battle, but shrugged off all help offered to him by our healers. Despite the retreat having to be called, waiting until the middle of the day to retrieve our weapons and armour – burying the dead, and planning for what we should do next.

A pang of decent rippled through our ranks after the first battle but one gem could be gleamed from our skirmish with the enemy. Early in the fighting one of our cannons, the great Whitebeard’s Fury had sent a cannonball careering into the enemy general. The cannon had blasted his shield to pieces before punching through his chest and out the other side. A great number of goblins had also been slaughtered, as well as one of their shamans. This was used by Nargrond to quiet any grumblers and prove that the greenskins were not without their weak points. Bolgran however bought disturbing news to me not long after our meeting for war that the warboss of the enemy was still alive. He seemed to have survived the cannonball, fixed together by some eldritch magic from their despicable shaman. I kept this knowledge from all my kinsmen save Nargrond and the fellow leaders, to save any decent from boiling back to the surface. We marched on regardless.

The next fight came when we reached a small deserted township alongside the river. The place had been abandoned by the people of the Empire a long time past, but still within our lifetimes. The majority of the land around was arid and smoking, as if stuck in a perpetual burning as a marking of its destruction. In the centre still stood the haunted mansion of the baron of these parts, ghosts were said to still dwell within its structure. As well as that the watery ground around the town was filled with the dark beings of the swamps ready to lurk out and drag unsuspecting people into the depths of the foetid wetland.

We set up our battle line at the higher end of the swamp land, around a hill dedicated to some foul god. Our Runesmiths Dimzad and Skarin tried their best to defeat its magic and we dulled it for the battle ahead. Still, stones all glowed around us in anger. The Ogres stalked out of the mist and the battle was joined in earnest. The army of great hunger had bought a great cannon to bear alongside a new leader, a Slaughtermaster as they called him. Our cannons and guns cracked and lit up the fog, while the grudge thrower tossed stones high into the sky, however getting lost within the clouds. It wasn’t long until the lines of the Ogres was upon us, and huge units of the hulking beasts tore through our lines and back to our gun line. The great sky titan cannon even hit and dented the cannon Wyrms-Breath. Still we fought on, even as Dimzad and Skarin had to fall back, as Imrak stumbled away after defeating the nefarious gnoblars. Nargrond refused to retreat even as he and his Ironbreakers were the last to be still on the field. Bolgran ached to help but stood with him, muscles tensed around his daemon killing axe. This was to be saved for something special. Nargrond fought like he was gifted the power of Grungni himself, cutting down Mournfangs, their great Titan cannon, a fur covered Hunter and even the Slaughter Master himself and his regiment. At the falling of the Slaughtermaster the battle was called, and the two sides stalked away from each other. Those who could walk dragging the wounded and dead back to our respective battle lines. The Slaughtermaster too raised himself from his haunches and slumped off, a great axe wound across his belly. Nargrond was covered in blood as he stalked back into his campaign tent, hastily erected at the far side of the small town.

Skarin met be while the light of the day was fading and the fogs of the dead swirled back around us. Singing could be heard from some of the men, singing of their leader Nargrond, even if he himself had not come out to join us since the finishing of the fight. Skarin showed me his back, a lash mark cracked across his shoulders. He told of one of the Ogres who had been right above him, grinning through its blood covered maw and had spared him, smirking at his falling. Skarin had gone for his knife to cut his beard and hair, ready to take the slayer oath but Bolgran intervened stopping him as he went to do it. The two talked for many hours, but finally Skarin took his words to heart.

Our forces will need to regain some strength if we are to continue our campaign. But we live in hope that we can finally reclaim our Hold and cleanse it of the filth that dwell there.