Chapter 98 98: Underground Mass Grave

If we reach 25 comments, . You have five hours from the time this chapter is posted. If we reach the goal, the next chapter will be posted in eight hours.(Valid comments must include information about what you like or dislike about the story, what you would like to see about the story, or any questions you may have about the story, as the devil is in the details.) ----------------------------- If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. ------------------------------- Kaldezeit 28-29,2489 IC "Quick... more powder, more powder!" I shouted as we reloaded one of the last canister shots we had left. The orks lay dead everywhere. There were massive heaps of bodies, mostly thousands upon thousands of goblins, the result of an ork assault that had not ceased after hours of fighting. It was constant bombardment: every time we drove them back, another wave, even larger, would arrive with yet more behind it, and so on without end. Our lead reserves were slowly running out, with no chance to replenish, since up to that moment the orks had not halted their advance for a single instant. No matter how many fell, more and more always came. "They're falling back, my lord!" shouted one of the musketeers beside me as he reloaded. "Damn it... Quickly, get the wounded to the rear and swap equipment. It's only a matter of time before the rest arrive. Move, move! Bring powder and fetch more ammunition. I want the muskets loaded and ready—we can't stop," I barked, finishing my own reload. "Damn it, there's too many of them... how is it they don't stop coming, no matter how many we kill?" one of my men said as he slid a canister charge into the cannon. "They're greenskins. Their numbers are vast, but if we keep at it we can break them. It's only a matter of time until they lose their nerve, or their numbers drop enough to stop being a threat," I replied while shifting more ammunition toward the cannon. We waited while the musketeers reloaded every musket available to have the maximum number of shots ready. But this time... we waited and waited, and the greenskins didn't come. When I sensed them again, I realised they were all concentrating in another place. All the greenskins were gathering in a specific area—but not against us. They were focused on another presence, one that carried metal with it. "It seems they're not coming. Make use of this and finish the palisade! We must take advantage of every moment we have," I called to my men, who immediately set about repairing the damaged fortifications. From the look of their armour, I was certain: they were skaven. Once I confirmed it, we made full use of the time to reinforce our improvised defences and prepare all equipment in case there was another ork incursion. An hour passed, and the battle below between greenskins and skaven raged on. Their numbers were enormous, but it seemed both sides were tearing each other apart. I ordered my men to sleep in shifts and tend to the many wounded. Thanks to my magic, the armour had protected them well from ork axes and hammers—but while it could stop a blade from cutting, it could not nullify the sheer force of the impact. We had few dead, but hundreds wounded, with bruises or broken bones from the orks' brutal strength. While the camp busied itself with resting, pitching tents, or binding wounds, I slipped away quietly and used my magic to gather all the spent lead shot, restoring it to its original form for reuse. I placed it with the rest of the munitions, working quickly so as not to draw attention. In a few minutes, I recovered all the spent balls and placed them among the ork corpses, then gave the order to collect them. We waited several more hours while the battle between orks and skaven still raged within the karak. During this respite, we managed to reorganise after the brutal greenskin assault... until, as the hours passed, we found ourselves drawn back into the fight. Yet even so, the ork numbers seemed enormous—greater even than the skaven. Where the battle raged, the greenskins fought in what appeared to be a great cavern, and I could feel all the mineral that surrounded it. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. So, with a group of my men, we crossed the field littered with goblin and ork corpses and moved straight toward the greenskin fortress, taking advantage of the fact they were locked in a death struggle with the skaven. Upon entering, we found a foul place, reeking of filth, waste, and an unbearable stench. Thousands of bones were piled high, forming grotesque shapes that looked like some kind of sick art. We advanced quickly, cutting down the goblins that appeared sporadically with well-placed musket shots. Our goal was clear: flank the orks while they were occupied with the skaven. We passed through multiple corridors, some looping back in circles, shooting at anything that moved, until we finally came across a great breach in a dawi wall that opened into a vast cavern. From there, the roars of the greenskins and the constant clash of steel echoed through the tunnel. We moved forward a little and saw the scene: an endless tide of orks battling another tide of skaven, slaughtering each other atop mountains of corpses. "My lord, there's too many," said one of my bodyguards, looking at me with the hope I wouldn't give the order to attack. "I know. They're too many for us... even with all the militias from my cities it would be impossible. We should pull back and wait to see how this battle ends. We may have to forget about moving toward Bretonnia—too many greenskins," I replied, as I began to channel all the magic of Chamon. While my men turned to withdraw, I began manipulating the mineral structure of the cavern, slowly weakening it. It was no simple feat—I had to maintain my focus while guiding my men back. After great effort, I made the minerals vibrate violently, fracturing the rock. It wasn't long before we heard the roar of collapse: the entire cavern caved in behind us. The ground shook, and for a moment it felt as though the entire dawi fortress would come down. Dust billowed out, enveloping everything around us. "By Sigmar, what was that?!" one of my men shouted, covered in dust. "Must be a sign we should get out of here," another said. "No... that was the collapse of the cavern. We're going to check it," I replied, spinning on my heel. My men followed reluctantly. We returned to the great cavern and saw it completely buried under tonnes of rock. Everything within had died. Though I could still sense something squirming beneath the rubble, the truth was that kilometres of natural cavern had collapsed over greenskins and skaven alike. "A blessing from Sigmar," I said, gazing at the scene. "The hammer of the god of mankind has fallen upon His enemies." "Blessed Sigmar," one of my men said, kneeling. "Blessed Sigmar," the others repeated, and soon they were all on their knees. The dawi stronghold was almost empty. I could still feel some movement deep below, but nothing compared to what it once was. Who knows how many I killed when I brought it down on them... but in the end, who told them to fight in a cavern full of minerals? With virtually all the greenskins dead, we gathered the rest of my men and began meticulously clearing every one of the many tunnels of the vast stronghold, which was almost labyrinthine. Everything was in ruins. Some areas were so devastated it was painful to look at them. Corridors that had once housed dawi forges were now filled with corpses, which we piled into large common pits to be burned. Grand stone buildings and artisan workshops lay in rubble. In several places, we found small, sharp-toothed creatures that attacked in large numbers. They were aggressive and seemed to have been bred as livestock by the greenskins, as many were half-eaten. We kept clearing, only to find more destruction. Everything was ruined, looted, or defiled with the crude, filthy symbols of the greenskins. It took hours to clear the stronghold completely, finding only a handful of orks and many goblins left behind to tend those toothed creatures. By the end of the day, we had cleared everything up to the thane's throne room. As with everything else, there was not a single dawi symbol left. Everything was stained, filthy, or completely destroyed. Once the place was secure and all the greenskin bodies burned, I ordered one of my men to return to Duran and report what we had found. He would surely be pleased to know we had reclaimed his great stronghold. While the messenger traveled, I inspected all of the dawi's hidden chambers. There were many, though most had already been discovered by the greenskins. I found tombs of important figures of the karak, all plundered. That meant that vast amounts of runic gear were either buried in the collapsed cavern or taken by some ork warboss into the depths. A true shame. Not that I could have kept any of it anyway—dwarfs would only give me weapons, and unless any bore runes greater than my sword, they would be of little use to me... unless I wished to equip one of my men with them. I found secret dawi forges, with refined minerals that drew Chamon with incredible strength. In other adjoining halls, I discovered libraries, and beyond them, burial chambers belonging to lords and other important figures, filled with gold, jewels, and runic weapons. The amount was so massive I wondered how it was possible for a single stronghold to hold so much runic equipment. And every time I found a plundered hall, I thought of what might still be buried under the collapsed cavern. We spent the rest of the day uncovering every hidden corner of the dawi halls until we found a damaged tunnel protected by several security runes. When we opened it, we discovered it led to the chamber where they kept the gromril. After descending and passing through three more rune-gates, we found the massive vein I had sensed earlier. To say it was large would be an understatement—it was as vast as the stronghold itself. No wonder the dawi had invested so much in protecting it; a single vein like this could be turned into staggering quantities of the finest runic arms, granting immense power and prestige to the clan. We kept opening chambers until we came across a gigantic dawi library, overflowing with more books than I had ever seen in one place. After resting and fortifying our position, Duran's dawi arrived. Nearly his entire clan had come. Duran himself seemed visibly astonished at our victory. "Duran... a cavern completely collapsed on the greenskins and the raki," I said, choosing my words carefully to avoid suspicion. "I found many secret dawi chambers, most plundered, so I suppose some of your clan's belongings—or those of allied clans—are under that rubble." "Yes... it seems the greenskins broke through this wall and forced their way into the karak," Duran replied, examining the wall leading to the collapsed cavern. "Yes, but thanks to Sigmar, the cavern collapsed. You should have seen how many there were... raki against greenskins. Far too many. I had never seen so many in one place, fighting to the death," I commented. "It seems the Ancestors intervened in our favor," Duran nodded. "But we will have to put in the work to remove the rubble and recover our people's belongings, so their memory can be honored... Anything else?" "A massive library... the largest I have ever seen," I answered, leading him to the chamber. Many dawi followed us, surprise written on their faces, as we walked through what had once been the home of their ancestors. When we reached the great library, Duran began thanking the Ancestor Gods one by one, visibly moved by the discovery. ----------------------------- If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. -------------------------------