The Battle: Take Two

[Papa Rock 2400]

 

From the Eyes of the Grand King

!! READ SPOILER FIRST !!
 

Spoiler

I know this is a post of a battle already written.

 

I am not satisfied with how the previous post presented the events of the raid. It didn’t carry the large presence and threat the Empire presents itself as and lacked any role-play significance in my eyes. I like this piece far more as it focuses some more on the “Endless March” the Empire carries.

 

These are written not for propaganda, but to leave something behind, a story that future dwarves can read. They can read of a moment captured in words and expressed in narrative form.

 

I hope you enjoy this one more than the last.

 

The conflict between the Empire of Man and the Alliance of the Four Brothers had dragged on for years, each side bleeding the other dry. Alliance caravans—laden with weapons, supplies, and food—were ambushed and burned as they traveled between capital cities and distant vassals. The Empire sought to starve the Alliance by severing its lifelines.

 

In response, new routes were established. Old underground trade tunnels—once carved during times of peace—were reopened and repurposed for war. Beneath mountains and stone, supplies flowed unseen. The Empire lacked the engineering prowess to intercept them.

 

For a time, the system held.

 

 

One Year Later…

 

“Grand King! I bring troubling news!”

 

A Legion soldier entered the hall at a hurried pace, armor still dusted with stone and soot. In his hands was a report—one the Grand Kingdom had long feared receiving.

 

“The Western Engine has been compromised,” the soldier said, breath still tight in his chest.

 

Ulfar remained silent. He sat at the dinner table, a half-eaten plate of grilled chicken resting before him. He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the soldier as the report continued.

 

“Locals report sightings of a massive Kurai Kuni machine bearing Imperial markings.”

 

The soldier swallowed.

 

“Imperial engineers have produced a mining drill capable of boring deep through the earth.”

 

Ulfar’s expression did not change.

 

“They breached and destroyed the Western Engine,” the soldier said. “The supply chain to the Horde has been severed.”

 

A pause.

 

“There are plans to attack Kal’Baraz once more. With one route disabled, they believe the city is vulnerable.”

 

Ulfar raised a hand, steadying him.

 

“Ready yourself, kin,” the Grand King said calmly. “Eat. Drink. Rest.”

 

The soldier hesitated.

 

“Word has already reached me,” Ulfar continued. “We are prepared. Our architects and engineers have strengthened our defenses.”

 

The soldier bowed deeply, reassured, and was dismissed.

 

 

A Few Months Later…

 

The ground trembled.

 

Ulfar stood alongside the Legion and the Elder Clans, shoulder to shoulder with Alliance soldiers atop the great gates of Kal’Baraz. From the heights, he watched the Imperial host approach—banners snapping in the cavern air, armor gleaming in torchlight. At their head rode Hadrian, flanked by Ser Honeywine.

 

“Ulfar!” Hadrian called. “My friend!”

 

The echoes rolled through the stone.

 

“Are you there?”

 

. . .

 

There was no reply.

 

High above, Ulfar watched in silence, his crossbow resting against the parapet. He did not fire. His gaze passed over the Emperor and his knights, settling—lingering—on Ser Honeywine. The murderer.

 

“We will breach this gate tonight!” Hadrian shouted. “Come out, Ulfar! Save your people from throwing their lives away!”

 

Still, no answer.

 

Hadrian’s jaw tightened. “Fine—”

 

He nodded.

 

Ser Honeywine moved forward, barking orders. Imperial soldiers nocked arrows as the cavalry shifted into formation.

 

“FIRE!”

 

Had there been a sun above the cavern, it would have vanished beneath the cloud of arrows as if Hadrian crushed it within the palm of his hand. They struck the stone walls of Kal’Baraz in a storm of iron and wood. Some found their marks, ringing against dwarven steel—yet no blood was drawn.

 

 

Hours Later…

 

“They’re charging the gates! Quarrelers, ready!”

 

The order rang out. Dwarven quarrelers and Alliance archers took aim as Imperial cavalry thundered forward.

 

Ulfar steadied his crossbow. His sight was fixed on one man—Ser Honeywine.

 

Steel met shield in a deafening crash. Arrows and bolts screamed through the air, striking horses and riders alike, sending bodies tumbling into the cavern rivers far below. Amid the chaos, Ulfar pulled the trigger.

 

The bolt struck true—punching through Ser Honeywine’s armor as though it were parchment.

 

A Grand King was meant to stand among his warriors on the field. But today, Ulfar chose the towers. From above, he watched how the Imperials moved—how they fought. They expected him on the ground.

 

Another bolt was chambered. Cranked. Fired.

 

It pierced Ser Honeywine’s torso.

 

Hadrian’s voice echoed upward. “Where are you, my friend? Have you considered my offer?”

 

Ulfar raised his crossbow once more—but before he could fire, an Imperial arrow slammed into his helmet. He dropped behind the wall as volleys hammered the stone around him. The walls groaned as dwarven machinery shifted, gears locking into place.

 

A trap was sprung.

 

Imperial screams followed—armor clattering as bodies plunged into the darkness, ending in distant splashes below.

 

Ulfar rose.

 

“I am here, friend!” he called. “What was your offer?”

 

Silence answered him. He moved along the wall as arrows snapped past.

 

“Surrender!” Hadrian finally shouted.

 

Ulfar scoffed. Surrender? After Hadrian had led his forces into Kal’Baraz under cover of night? After merchants and citizens were slaughtered—adults and children alike?

 

“We will die standing,” Ulfar roared back, “not live kneeling!”

 

He repositioned to another tower, sight settling on Hadrian’s head.

 

“So be it!” the Emperor replied.

 

Ulfar’s jaw clenched.

 

“Do it,” a voice whispered.

 

“He would not grant you mercy.”

 

Ulfar’s grip tightened.

 

“I am not him.”

 

He shifted his aim.

 

Ser Honeywine.

 

He fired. Reloaded. Fired again. And again. And again.

 

Bolt after bolt punched through the knight’s armor—yet he did not fall.

 

“I don’t understand,” Ulfar muttered.

 

Another bolt was chambered. He raised his aim—up the torso, to the helm.

 

Click.

 

The bolt struck, cracking the helmet—fracturing the skull.

 

Or so he thought.

 

Ser Honeywine stood unmoved. He snapped the shaft from his head as though it were nothing. With his adamantine axe, he cleaved the remaining bolts from his body.

 

Ulfar felt a cold knot tighten in his chest. Not fear for his life—but fear of what stood before him.

 

Fifty bolts. Every one pierced the armor. And yet the man stood unharmed.

 

“What kind of man is that?” Ulfar whispered.

 

“That,” the voice replied, “is what men become when Khorvad claims their hearts.”

 

“Monsters.”

 

Slowly, Ulfar lowered his crossbow. An Imperial arrow struck his chestplate, leaving only a scratch.

 

“What are we fighting?” he asked.

 

Below, Imperial soldiers hurled themselves against the gates with reckless abandon—lives spent as though death were temporary. The gates of Kal’Baraz ran red, not with Alliance blood, but Imperial as the Emperor Hadrian enforced his presence and will against the resistance.

 

“I’m low on bolts!” a quarreler shouted.

 

“Only a few arrows left!” an archer answered.

 

“They’ve more men than we have ammunition!”

 

“Enough,” Ulfar commanded. “If you cannot shoot, then stand.”

 

He raised his shield. “Follow me. We bear shields for our kin.”

 

He led them from the towers to the gate, merging with the infantry as the order rang out:

 

“Reposition to the second gate!”

 

The Alliance shifted, forming new lines. Archers gained fresh angles. Infantry braced.

 

“One more push!”

 

The Alliance roared as they surged forward, the ground shaking beneath their advance. Arrows fell upon retreating Imperials, abandoned by their own ranks.

 

When the clash ended, Ulfar still stood. Blood soaked his armor and the stone beneath his boots. The cavern fell quiet as the Imperial march faded into retreat.

 

Ulfar raised his axe.

 

“We still stand!”

 

Yet deep within, dread lingered.

 

This battle was won—but the next?

 

They were no longer fighting Man.

 

They were fighting fearless men made into monsters.

 

OOC:

Spoiler

Formatting and Grammar check done by Blainer9r. Thanks bro.

 

Edited January 5 by Papa Rock

[D3F4LT 1026]

Spoiler

 

[Riot 743]

Dorin Starbreaker reads the account in silence, jaw set, a slow breath rolling through his beard.

“Aye. Couldn’t have said it better meself. Stone remembers, and so do we.”