Chapter One - Baraz, The Gate and the Slaughter

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Dwarfs, a species that hardly needs introduction. The Sons of the Mountain, Lords of the Underdark, Masters of Masonry, Kings of Craftsmanship. Of all the species of the Old World, they are perhaps the most glorious and proud, with roots dating thousands of years before the birth of the human god, Sigmar.

The vast kingdoms of the dwarfs once stretched across the Old World, they constructed massive underground realms beyond the capability of other races. Holding wealth and beauty beyond compare, these Holds were the epitome of power for the Dwarfs.

In a long forgotten time known as the 'Time of the Ancestor Gods', the fledgling dwarfs made their first steps led by their gods, Grungni, Grimnir, and Valaya. It was during this time the first dwarf holds are founded, the foundations of their civilization are lain.

Then, a dark era known only as the 'Coming of Chaos' cast its shadow over the world. In a cataclysmic event, Chaos itself leaked into the material realm. The skies warped, mountains broke, and the surface became utterly saturated in the stuff of nightmares. The dwarf people took cover in their holds, desperately trying to survive in this terrible time.

When they emerged, it was to a far different world. The landscape was altered, as was nature itself. But the most startling discovery was Daemons. Brought here by their horrible gods, they sought only the destruction or enslavement of all mortal life.

Led by their Gods, the dwarfs fought these monstrosities. Grungni taught them to inscribe magical runes on their armor and weaponry, allowing them to fight these daemons on more equal footing. Grimnir, with weapons from Grungni himself, led the Dwarf armies and people to endure against the horrors of the world. Lastly, Valaya guarded the dwarfs minds against the manipulations of chaos.

After centuries of fighting, the dwarfs drove the Daemons back from the mountains. But, despite their efforts, did not have the strength to completely destroy the daemonic threat.

Then came the Golden Age, a period of expansion and wealth for the Dwarf people and their new found trade partners from across the sea, the Elves of Ulthuan.

It is near the beginning of this age, the year 505 by dwarf reckoning, that a strange portal is found deep under the fortress hold of Vala-Azril-Ungol(Later known as Karak Eight Peaks).

This portal was discovered by a group of miners from the Ironback Mining Clan, a prominent clan who dwelt within Karak Eight Peaks, during the excavation of new tunnels. After the initial surprise wore off, the Ironbreakers were called in to secure the site, seeing it as a possible threat from chaos. But upon inspection from a Runelord, from the revered Forgehand Clan, he deemed that whatever it was, was free of the taint of chaos.

When a small expedition was sent through, they emerged on a cliff on the side of perhaps the largest mountain they had ever seen. It seemed to extend to the heavens themselves. Other mountains, small when compared to the behemoth that they stood upon, stretched for miles in every direction.

It was, needless to say, breathtaking. On an oddly clear day such as this, one could see for leagues upon leagues without any obstruction from clouds. Cold air rushed over the faces of the expedition, the excuse for any tears being shed at the sight.

At that moment, there was only one name they could give such a mountain, Karaz Dokaz Drekak, The Mountain of Unending Sight.

3,500 Years Later

The sight was no less breathtaking three and a half millenia later, although it did have several additions. Jutting from the side of Karaz Dokaz Drekak, and most of the mountains near it, were massive towers of rock, carved with countless runes. Each tower was connected to its neighbors by large air-bridges, wide enough for two carts abreast.

While this on its own was an impressive sight, what lay beneath the surface was even more breathtaking. A massive kingdom hewn from the mountain housed the largest center of dwarfs in existence. The halls of this massive hold contained over 100,000 citizens, most of them descending from the clans who had fled here as the southern holds of the Old World fell. Many wished to bring their new numbers to bear against their enemies and reclaim the lost holds, but this was no longer an option.

Close to 1,000 years previously, the portal had been destroyed by the King of Karak Eight Peaks. To prevent the large Skaven invasion taking place from leaking into the new save haven. When the skaven finally broke past the rune locked doors and into the main chambers, they found them devoid of life. The former denizens of the hold having fled to Karaz Dokaz Drekak to shelter from the invasion, taking their wealth and possessions with them.

So the Dwarfs prospered, digging deeply and greedily. Filling their minds with preparation for the future, when they can take their armies back to the Old World and save their kin.

Of course, since contact with the High King at Karak-a-Karaz was impossible, Karaz Dokaz Drekak had to take its management into its own hands. Their King became the new High King of Karaz Dokaz Drekak, and the surrounding, smaller, holds that peppered this mountain range.

But something had changed all their plans. Close to three months ago, a large realm appeared to the south. Many dwarfs could still remember the nation from before its disappearance, before the self proclaimed 'King Sombra' took over the country with his foul magics. The Crystal Empire being the dwarfs only contact with this worlds inhabitants, and it was only briefly.

With the Empires reappearance, there had been a few minor attacks, a prelude to the large-scale invasion of one of the weaker holds close to the border.

Out of the shadows came horrific monsters, remiss of the daemon of old, they flooded through the hold. The meagre defenses of the small mining city were little match for the nightmarish beasts that assaulted them. The few dwarfs they were able to muster came in the form of miners brandishing their pickaxes, but they were isolated and picked off one by one.

At the end of the battle, all that remained of the 600 citizens was a young smith. He was tortured for a time before being released, told to give the leader of his people a message;

"This is what becomes of the enemies of Sombra, submit or be destroyed."

Court of High King Algrim the Ageless, Karaz Dokaz Drekak

Algrim the Ageless was renowned as not only the High King of the Dwarfs, but also the oldest dwarf alive. It is unknown as to how, the Runelords can only speculate, but he is close to his 4000th year.

Of course, the King himself knew. He had never spoken of it of course, letting those who wished to wonder, wonder. In truth however, that night still confused him. A quadruped, bathed in light and radiating kindness, had appeared before him upon arriving in this land. It spoke with a voice full of power, stating that it was he who must represent his people here. Before he could protest, the being touched his horn to the young lords head. Upon contact, his world seemed to explode, pain as he had never experienced before coursed through him. After what seemed like an eternity, it just ended. Upon looking around, he found that nothing had changed. As if whatever had happened, didn't.

He had put it out of his mind then, attributing it to bad ale and the stress of running his own colony. But after a few weeks, he started to change. He found himself becoming faster, stronger, and even his memory started to return to a more youthful quality. The most disturbing change however, was that he seemed to begin growing younger. At the time of the event, he had been by no means a young dwarf. In his 512th year he had been considered a Longbeard, and it showed in his facial appearance. Excluding his beard, he had obvious tells of his age, his face was wrinkled and scars were numerous. But in that time, it all changed. His wrinkles slowly dissapeared, and he seemed to revert to his prime. The only thing that was proof of his age, was his exceptionally long facial hair. It had taken time to get used to this, but he adapted. Using his new found longevity, he threw himself into running his hold, serving his people.

A sudden noise jerked the High King from his thoughts, his heavy gaze shifting to the large doors to his court, which has been unceremoniously thrown open by a panicked looking messenger. A few of the guards shifted, eyes locking onto the new figure. A hush came over the crowd of petitioners, the current one looked slightly offended at being interrupted. As the petitioner, one Durgin of the Stoutgirths, went to protest the messengers entrance, the High King held up a hand and spoke.

"Let him speak."

Hargin

Hargin ran, ran as he had never ran before. Just 10 minutes ago he had rushed through one of the many underground entrances of the capital, the guards had caused him little trouble after he informed them of the dire news he carried.

His sprint through the city caused some curses, he occasionally had to bump past or outright push through crowds in the bustling center of the dwarf people. But now his objective was close, the High Kings Court.

The gates to the Court grew closer by the second, standing ominously at the end of the Second Hall. As he aproached, the announcer moved to intercept him, but he paid him no heed, slipping past with only his mission in mind.

He impacted the grand doors, throwing them open with ease. A bang echoed through the now silent hall as they impacted the walls nearby.

Hargins eyes locked onto the High King, his mind momentarily freezing in awe at the truly impressive sight that was, what many believed to be, a living god. Upon a throne of gold sat Algrim the Ageless. Clad in heavy plate crafted from Admantine and engraved with countless runes, he cut the demi-god like figure he truly was. Resting across his lap was the platinum war hammer Grimnirs Fury, an extremely powerful runic weapon, he had heard tales of its strength and power.

Then he locked eyes with the King, and he suddenly believed all the stories of godhood that he had heard in taverns and hushed conversations. A gaze harder than the mountain itself, he felt the Kings power across the room, seeming to cut into him and search his very being.

As a noble went to protest his rather loud and rude entrance, the High Kings voice boomed out.

"Let him speak."

Algrim

Algrim ignored the messengers awed look, waiting patiently for him to gather himself and speak.

After a short time, the messenger drew a breath and spoke in a shaky voice,

"High King, we have been attacked! The mining colony of Thorgrims Labor has been invaded by an unknown force, with only one escaping. He was brutally tortured, and only barely able to make it to the closest Ironbreaker outpost. According to the Ironbreakers, he continued to mutter 'Sombra' until the moment of his death."

Algrims expression grew more and more grim as the messenger continued,

"A patrol was sent to investigate the direction he had come from, and they discovered that the entire colony had been slaughtered."

The messengers voice grew increasingly angry as he went on,

"The bodies of the citizens had been mutilated horribly, with their blood being used to write a message. 'The fate of all enemies of King Sombra'."

The room was filled with angry mutterings. Algrim could feel the rage building inside himself, and could see the effects that this report had on the other occupants of the room was the same. He called out,

"Norgrim, bring the Book of Grudges."

From near the throne a longbeard strode forward, carrying with him a heavy tomb. The tomb itself was more than simple words, it was a centerpiece of dwarf culture. In it, every wrong against the Dwarf people of Karaz Dokaz Drekak in its 4,000 years of existence. No, a Dwarf Grudge is more than a writing of a wrong, it is history and a promise of justice and revenge. A recollection of every crime and dishonor in the hold. Every dwarf feels the weight of grudges, the want to avenge them. Deem within them a rage boils at the wrongs committed against not only their individual Clans, but their people and way of life.

Algrim sat his war hammer on the ground, the shaft resting against the arm of his throne. He accepts the book as it is handed to him, taking a moment to gaze at the cover, memories flickering unbidden through his mind. After a moment, he opened the book, going well over half way into the tome before coming to where the last grudge was written.

Holding out his hand, he felt a quill be passed to him. The familiar drain of the runic writing tool came over him as he moved his hand into position. Norgrim, the Grudgemaster, then began to dictate the Grudge.

"On the 102nd day of the 4,010th year since the awakening of the Ancestors, I write this grudge against the one known as Sombra for ordering the slaughter of the mining colony of Thorgrims Labour. This Grudge can only be stricken at the death of both Sombra, and all his followers."

The drying blood stood out against the page, signifying a new hatred growing inside the dwarfs. They will have their revenge on who dared to commit this heinous act, or die in the attempt.

Chapter Two - Drangthrong, Court and Play

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The writing of a new grudge was felt across the entire dwarf realm as the rage of the dawi(Dwarf-kind) was fanned and grew into a blazing inferno. Every clan felt the anger, its members scrambling to be a part of its contribution to the Drangthrong. Whether they be miners, warriors, smiths, engineers, or tradesman, every dwarf felt this calling. To fight those who would wrong them and their people.

In the midst of the bustling halls of the dwarf capitol gathered the largest force assembled by these dwarfs for a thousand years. Good, stout, dawi poured in from across the kingdom, eager to exact their revenge against the enemies of the dwarf people. From every clan came a contribution to the force, as is their duty. Although, in these situations they were more than eager to eek out revenge to their enemies.

With an army 10,000 dwarfs strong, High King Algrim departs the capital. Making their way through hundreds of miles of underground highways, they slowly work southward.

The wrath of the dwarfs is upon the self-titled King Sombra, a rage never felt upon this world previously is about to be unleashed.

Throne Room, Canterlot Palace, Equestria

Celestia, Diarch of Equestria and raiser of the Sun, sipped calmly on a small cup of tea held in her perfectly manicured hand. As serene and friendly as her facade appeared, insider her head she was angry. Oh yes, very much so. For before her sat a bunch of quarreling children pretending to be 'Noblemen', attempting to play with the lives of Her little ponies.

Many forget the power she wields. With a flick of her wrist she can summon an inferno and level Canterlot, demolish armies with a thought. But She wields it with a fine hand, never truly excersizing her might, always acting with grace and calm. Never is she so tempted to bring it to bear then when She is dealing the these insufferable 'Noblemen'.

But She endures it for her ponies. They are worth every second of annoyance at the court. Let these self-entitled ponies continue to think they run the country, but as much power as they think they wield here she will always remind them that She is the state.

The current topic of discussion was particularly irksome.

Over the last week a series of attacks occurred along the border with the, now returned, Crystal Empire. She knew it was Sombra, of course. As did her sister and the court. The various noblemen here came to the conclusion that they had best decide what to do.
'As if they ever decide on anything' she thinks with naught a twitch of her lips, but an amused snort in her mind.

The current speaker was one 'Prince' Blueblood. The fool was almost as arrogant as he was stupid. Almost. With the gall to call himself a prince, he was truly a character. His Great-Grandfather had been a noble and courageous pony, awarded with the title as a payment for his dedication and skill. It was originally not meant to be heritable. His son had turned out just as he, noble and courageous, campaigning for better social programs and rights for her ponies. He had earned his title. The came Blueblood. His father died when he was young, and he grew up the son of a 'Prince'. He claimed the title for himself with little right, but she had seen no harm in it at the time. Oh how she wished she has disabused him of the notion.

He currently led a faction of moderate power, calling themselves the 'Parliamentaries' they work for a more liberal form of government where the nobles hold the reigns of the nation. Of course, he would say, a King would replace the need for such a thing. It takes little imagination to see who his suggestion would be.

"My fellows, I would suggest we do not work against this 'King Sombra' but work with him. He is obviously a magician of great po-"

His sniveling, far to high, voice was cut off with a word from the true power in the room.

"No".

Celestia's voice echoes through the, now silent, court. Remaining seated atop her throne, she speaks.

"You would suggest we work with the one who has ordered the death of many good ponies."

Blueblood attempts a protest.

"But Cele-"

A poor attempt, and the gall to try and address her on a first name basis. She interrupts him.

"I said be silent."

He stands back, looking at the other nobles for some kind of support. He finds none under the gaze of the Solar Diarch.

Celestia pauses, a facade of collecting herself, before speaking.

"I have decided that I and my sister shall take a force of Royal Guardsmen north to deal with this threat. You and your houses will be expected to do their duty and provide levies to augment the force. Go now, and prepare."

The Goddess of the Sun has spoken, and in Equestria her word is law.

Celestia's Chambers, Canterlot Palace, Equestria

Celestia wearily plops down into an exceptionally cushy armchair near the roaring fire of her hearth. It was almost a nightly routine. Finish court, go to her office and deal with the mountains of paperwork that come from running a country, then finally retire sometime around midnight. It could be utterly exhausting, especially if you add the fact that she rises at 8 am the next day and begins the process all over again. Every day. For a thousand years.

Recently her burden had been lessened with the return of her sister, something she was eternally grateful for. The struggles of ruling a nation are easier to bear with the assistance of someone who understands how hard it can be, the difficulty of the decisions that sometimes have to be made. Never did she truly appreciate how much her sister helped until she was gone.

Being so deep in her thoughts, she never heard the window opening. The soft rustle upon the carpets marking the approach of somepony, or something. She could never have guessed what was after her in that moment, or indeed that something even was.

Hearing a cry, Celestia managed to turn her head at the last moment to see a blur of blue flying toward her.

'Oh, Luna' She thought, only moments before the blur impacted her and sent both her and the chair tumbling.

One may worry over the wounds that would come from such a thing, for a normal pony this would be a good thing to note. But Alicorns are cut from a different cloth, their bodies were stronger in every aspect. Superior to any of the sub-species.

A voice, that Celestia has little trouble identifying as her sister, spoke up as she finished her, undoubtedly, graceful fall from the chair she had once sat upon.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen! The Sun Diarch lain low upon the floor! With my opposition removed, I do declare myself the ruler of the kitchens pantries!"

Luna looked about ready to continue her overly exaggerated villainous voice, likely to lay down further declarations of ruler ship. Like over Celestia's Ice Cream; something that could not be allowed. A bolt of bright light came from the fallen princess, impacting the foul villain and sending her crashing into the dresser.

Surging from the floor with a cry of,

"Have at thee, foul villainess!"

Celestia began her counter-attack! Rays of gold and blue danced across the room, leaving scorch marks with every miss and dodge. This sort of fight would likely hurt or grievously injure one of their subjects, but it was childs play to them.

The not-so-deadly dance continued, with Luna making the tactical decision to put out the fireplace to grant herself an advantage. With the room now shrouded in darkness, the light of the moon being the only illumination, Luna disengaged and slipped around her sister for a flanking maneuver. Once she was properly placed to the side of Celestia, whos head was frantically looking side to side, she struck.

Now, through the fight both had changed positions many times. From the fireplace to the dresser, the window to the door. Their epic duel was not limited to standing in place, no, they were both far to skilled in this game for that. As it turns out, Celestia was standing near the bed in her frantic search for Luna. This gave her an opportunity to end this!

With a mighty cry of,

"Hayah!"

Luna lept. Impacting her sister, she sent them both crashing onto the bed. They both struggled for a time, getting in blows here and there. But this was not a game of physical strength, but maneuverability. Both Celestia and Luna has this in spades.

Their struggle continued for a few more minutes before they both fell back, panting. After a few moments Luna spoke,

"I suppose you can keep your pantry."

It started off as a small giggle, and then expanded into laughter as each sister took comfort in one another.

For the next day; they prepare for war.