Tunnel Wars

[Dan the Man]

Prologue

“We must not lose the keep!” Durin Mithrilbringer, the king of the dwarves, shouted to his loyal dwarven vanguard. The goblins, longtime bitter rivals with the dwarves for supremacy of the mountains, had launched an immense surprise attack on the dwarven capital city of Nogratar. Nogratar was quickly overwhelmed by the vast numbers of goblins, with merely a few hundred locking themselves in the city’s keep as a last line of defense.

The great king looked at the mithril gates that protected him and his men from the countless goblins swarmed outside. Countless times it shook as the goblins tried different means of breaking through the gates, with the mithril finally proving its worth to him. His dwarves rushed to reinforce the gates, putting their full weight into bracing with the door.

“Men, Soldiers of Nogratar! You men are warriors! To lead you has been my honor! My brothers! Our gods wait for us! I say, we make them wait a little longer! Let now be the hour of true heroics! We shall make such an end that has never been seen before! Death!” Durin shouted to his men.

“Death!” came the defiant shouts of his men.

Durin heard a shattering sound from the mithril gates. A moment later, the gates flew open. Dozens of monstrous trolls came running through the opening, wielding huge maces. They sent dwarves flying in their wake. The trolls charged into the gates, and Durin finally knew what fear felt like.

“Death!” the King of the Dwarves charged, one last time.

Chapter 1

The son of Durin Mithrilbringer, young Dain the Proud, had received his father’s severed head in a chest, as a present from the Goblin King’s royal emissary. Dain, in retaliation for this unbelievable insult, personally severed the emissary’s head, sending it back to the Goblin King. Thus the Tunnel Wars began.

It had now been over a hundred years since the wars began. At the beginning of the war, the dwarves held a steady advantage, using their superior weaponry and armory to push back the goblin armies. Soon, however, the goblins received reinforcements in the form of orcs. With the fresh troops, the goblins maintained a steady march until the dwarves were on the verge of defeat.

“My king, I bring distressing news.” Sarin Icewrath bowed before the king.
“What do you have for me today, General?” the aging Dain Goblinslayer, as he was called now, asked the last remaining of the original generals under his command.
“The city of Belrod has fallen. That leaves only three of our great cities left.”
“This is grim news. Who else knows?”
“I have sent runners to the two other cities. They are to create militias once they receive the news.”
Dain shook his head. How had the proud dwarves of the Strongshields fallen to this level of despair? He stood up from his throne. “Sarin, do you trust your king?”
“Your men, my king, will follow you to the end.” Sarin answered.
“Then trust me on this decision I make. We must contact the elves.”
“But sire—“
“It is the only way we will survive. Now leave me.”

Dain sat back in his throne as Sarin walked away furiously. The elves and the dwarves had never liked each other, but each race had answered the call from the other in their time of need. If the dwarves were to survive, the elves would be their best chance. Dain could not believe what he had just done.

[Dan the Man]

Chapter 2

The next three weeks had been very stressful on the aging King of the Dwarves. The goblins had become strangely quiet, and not even his scouts had seen them for some time. It was much like the quiet before a storm. A storm, Dain thought, that would be the end of the Strongshields. He knew he must act quickly if he was to save the dwarves from certain doom.

He was currently waiting above the mountains, breathing in the relaxing fresh air. It was not musky and it didn’t smell like body odor like he was used to underground. He was waiting for the elven king, King Ringcairion Silverleaf, to discuss negotiations between the two races. The elf had requested they meet above ground, and Dain had no room to attempt to deny, so he agreed to meet with Ringcairion in the last remaining above ground ruins of the dwarves; the ruins of Norgothoria. It had been an experimental city built by the dwarves, but it was ultimately abandoned by dwarves homesick for the mines.

He saw the elf’s silver banner appear within his shortening eyesight; they were no more than a few hundred yards away. He calmly waited for the elves in Ringcairion’s party to arrive.

“Ah, young Dain Goblinslayer, is that what you go by now? I remember when you were young Dain the Proud. Surely you have lost your pride, for why else would you be seeking assistance?” Ringcairion greeted Dain.
“Ringcairion, just as curt as I remember. This is not about my pride, but for the good of my people. Yes, I am asking for you to uphold what our people have done for each other over the many years, before either of us was born. Back to the days of your father and my forefather, when they swore an oath to aid the other in time of need. My people need help. What say you?” Dain said, surprisingly winded. Perhaps age was catching up to him.
“You make a strong argument. However, I do not see how this is beneficiary to my people.”
“How dare you! My father helped you fight the Northern men when you requested assistance, yet you spit on his grave with your actions!”
“Do not insult my judgment, dwarf! I remember this meeting was to request help from me, was it not? Now, I will need persuasion in order for me to help you.”
“And what might an elf such as yourself desire from a dwarf?”
“You know. Your family has owned it since my father traded it to your ancestor for an alliance. I want the sword of Iaurhis.”
Dain pondered this request. The sword had become a family heirloom, but it had not been used for a long time. He thought it might even be gathering dust in his hall as they speak. “Very well, elf. You can have your sword.”
“I am glad we have had this talk. You can expect the reinforcements before the next full moon. Which, I believe, is roughly two and a half weeks from now? Farewell, and survive.” Ringcairion departed just as swiftly as he had come.

Dain turned back the way he had come. It would be a day’s march before he was back in his own halls, safe in the most secure fortresses in all the world. He marched, hoping that what he had sacrificed would be worth the elves’ manpower.

[Dan the Man]

Chapter 3

It was a long, uneventful march back to Undrejordiska, the dwarven capital city ever since Nogratar fell, taking nearly two weeks to travel the distance. He and his royal guard were weary of their trek, and each wanted to go home to his wife and children, where there would be food and rum awaiting them. As the minutes wore by, the anticipation in their hearts grew. And when they finally reached the underground gates of Undrejordiska, a collective sigh of relief could be heard from each dwarf.

Dain himself was especially happy to find himself in his keep again. It took him no more than five minutes to find the legendary sword of Iaurhis. It was being held by a stand not ten feet away from his stone throne. He took it off the stand and laid it in a chest where it would wait for Ringcairion to open it. His peace and quiet, however, would not last long. Because just as he was getting relaxed, an extremely worried-looking dwarf came bursting through his door.

“My King!” he said bowing, “A massive goblin army is marching towards our city!”
“What?” Dain shouted, jumping up, “Get the defenses ready! Seal the gates! Get archers on the walls of each of our seven levels! We have not prepared the defense of this city over the last hundred years for nothing! I want every able bodied man to prepare for battle. The dwarves of the Strongshields are bred for fighting, and fight we shall! Now go!”
“Yes sir!” the dwarf said, sprinting out.

Dain raced to his personal armory, located merely a room away from the throne room. There awaited Sarin, fully battle-clad and armed. He was holding the hauberk of Dain’s mithril and silver armor.
“My king, your men are here to die for you.” Sarin said.
“I will not risk my men dying for the sake of me to remain safe. I will be heading to the first level of the city to personally defend the gates.” Dain answered.
“My Lord, are you sure?” Sarin asked.
“My father would have done the same, and he did in Norgatar. I will not let him down.”

Sarin continued to dress Dain for battle. He finished putting Dain’s armor on, finally giving the helmet to Dain to put on when the time was needed. He braided Dain’s graying beard for battle, a tradition that would have the dwarf look neat in death if he were to die in battle. With a satisfied look, Sarin finally handed Dain his battleaxe, a two handed double-bit axe made out of mithril, the last present his father had given him before he died.
“You are now ready to die, my King.” Sarin said, smiling.
“No, I am ready to live.” Dain said with a grin.

The King hurried through the seven levels of Undrejordiska, finally arriving at the only gate to enter the first level, a gate which faced deep into the caverns of the mountain range the city was beneath. There were hushed sounds from the contingent of dwarves stationed there; the most hardy of the dwarves, the most experienced and the bloodthirsty. These dwarves had served the dwarven kingdom for more than 150 years, all of them knowing that their days were steadily decreasing. That was what marveled Dain about the dwarves: as they grow older, their strength only increases until they are dead, which made the dwarves a deadly adversary even in their later years.

“My friends!” Dain spoke, “ My Brothers! Today is the day we fight for our freedom! We fight to preserve the hope of the dwarves! We fight to crush the goblins, who have overestimated the nearly 15,000 dwarves behind these gates ready to fight to the death! They underestimate our prowess in battle. The enemy outnumber us a paltry three to one, good odds for any dwarf. But they will know our wrath. No goblin shall set foot in our great city! Death!”
“Death!” the soldiers shouted.

Dain heard the sound of drums in the deep. Tom-tap, tom tap, tap, tap, tom. The goblins had arrived.

[Dan the Man]

Chapter 4

It had been an hour since the goblins began attempting to break down the massive gates that protected the city. Dain had been standing through the first thirty minutes, finally relenting into pulling up a stool to wait for the real fight. He knew his gates were durable; it would take quite a long time for the goblins to break them from the outside of the city. And he had dozens of guards holed up in the guard tower controlling the gatehouse.

He couldn’t help but get a nervous feeling in his stomach. He knew his gates would withstand most known battering rams in this world. But he couldn’t help but feel that they would not stand a chance against the goblin army. It nagged on him so much that it made him begin to long for battle again. He needn’t wait much longer, however.

A dwarf, badly injured from a fight that Dain had no clue had happened, came limping in a desperate hurry to the front lines. He made his way through the ranks of dwarves, finally rushing before Dain.

“My King—“The dwarf started, “there has been a traitor! He has convinced the dwarves in the gatehouse to join the goblins! We don’t have much time to—“He couldn’t finish. The huge gates to the city creaked, and slowly began releasing the countless chains keeping the two doors of the gates together.

“Dwarves! Prepare for battle! The enemy is upon us!” Dain shouted, putting his helmet on. “You are soldiers of Undrejordiska! You men are fighting for your lives! Do not lose them for nothing! Whatever comes through these gates shall not pass! Death!”
“Death!”

The gates swung open, releasing a horde of goblins of all sizes into Undrejordiska. They came charging wielding short swords and loose armor. They were the first wave, created just to wear the defenders down.

“DEATH!” Dain shouted, charging before his other dwarves. Immediately after him came the shouts of death coming from the dwarven defenses. Dain charged straight into the goblin ranks, letting his superior armor protect him to its best ability. His first contact with the goblins was bowling over the lead goblin, silencing the major with an axe stroke to the neck when it was trying to get up.

“One!” Dain shouted, beginning his tradition of counting his number of kills. It always lightened up the mood of the battle. Soon he heard other counts of one, even one remarkable veteran who had already tallied seven kills. “What? There’s no way you’re going to beat me! I am Dain Goblinslayer! Fear my axe! The Great Goblinsbane!”

Dain continued to cut his way through the goblin front ranks, adding to his score twenty more easy kills. He made his way closer to the open gates, but was horrified at what he saw. A whole unit of cave trolls running fifty strong was hastily marching towards the gates. In each of their hands was a monstrous club. And each troll carried with it necklaces of the bones of defeated dwarves. He would have soiled himself if he were a lesser man.

“Defensive positions! Regroup! Rally to me! To me!” Dain said, as he still somewhat fresh troops rallied around him. Each dwarf had entered blood drunkenness that he could not interpret; they had the look of those seeking death, just so they could defy his just claw. The goblins of the first wave had now retreated, leaving a quiet grip the soldiers. The quiet before the next wave.

Thump, thump, thump. The sound of the trolls marching grew louder. Their roars grew more audible by the second. They wasted no hesitation when they passed the gate, full sprinting their way towards the much smaller dwarves. And the collision was that of a bear running into a rabbit. Dwarves flew in all directions with the swings of the clubs. Dwarves killed by the giant feet of the trolls. It had turned to mayhem.

“Fight! Fight for your lives!” Dain shouted as goblins entered the fight. The once impressive dwarf contingent was now being overrun as if they were children. Dain charged at a troll, slicing a significant gash in its leg before it turned around. Dain received the full brunt of the troll’s blunt weapon as it hit him in the chest, sending him flying. Dain hit a wall, and blacked out.

[Dan the Man]

Chapter 5

Dain felt a slight tingle in his cheeks, then more feeling, until he felt intense stinging once every couple seconds. Somebody was smacking his face. His eyes shifted, showing a crevice of what was happening.
“We’re losing him.” A very familiar, but very anxious, voice said. “We need to get him out of this chaos.”
“Sarin?” Dain asked, drowsy.
“My king! Thank the Gods! We need to get out of here! Our men are getting decimated!”
“How long was I out?”
“Only a minute or so, but we need to run! Are you able enough?”
“Able enough? I’ll show you what the hell I’m fit to do! Help me to my feet! I need to kill some trolls!”
“No time, please, your men are sacrificing themselves for your safety. Do not let them down!”

Sarin helped Dain to his feet, and it was just then that he realized the mayhem of the fight. His dwarves managed to kill about two dozen trolls, but the rest were slowly but surely wearing down the surviving dwarves. Goblins were picking off the stragglers. Dain almost cried for his men.

“Dain, we need to MOVE!” Sarin shouted, pulling his arm. Dain reluctantly followed. Sarin led him to the second level of the city, where more dwarves were positioned to defend the city. They all had concerned faces for the king, who must have looked much worse than he felt. And he felt like he was just between a hammer and an anvil.

“Men, pull back to the seventh level! We will defend our city to the end, but we will need our men alive when we are back there! Move!” Dain shouted. He looked at the chaos in the first level, and saw the trolls had cut down the last of the dwarves. Goblins had begun sprinting towards the second level gate, followed by the trolls, serving as the battering rams. The gates on the inside of the city were nowhere near as strong as the first level one, meaning the trolls would be able to break through using their own strength. Not one of the best defensive planning, Dain thought to himself. He ordered the gates close, and had to move even when a few HUNDRED dwarves stood by the gates, sacrificing themselves for their brethren.

As he made his way through the city with his increasing number of men, he marveled at the number sacrificing themselves by hundreds by staying behind to hold the gates. It only bought them a few minutes, and the enemy was catching up; by the time the dwarves reached the seventh level, only around 1,000 remained of the near 15,000, and the enemy was about midway through the sixth level. It would be a hopeless last stand with those few numbers. His remaining dwarves closed the seventh level gate, and began piling heavy objects to block the entryway.

And the hammers began.