The battle against the vile rat kin had raged for the past three years. The dwarfs had valiantly fended off attack after attack from the chaotic tide of vermin but slowly and surely the dwarfs had be pushed back deeper and deeper in to the hold.
Many good dwarfs had been lost and it was soon clear that the hold was lost, but the deaths of those brave warriors would not be in vain.
Word spread lord Snorri O’Dubhda had had sent orders to for all surviving warriors to fight their way to the great hall, it is here that they will make their last stand and make the skaven pay for the grudges they had made.
Soon the throng was formed tightly packed in to a square formation in the hall waiting for the inevitable tide to wash over them while each dwarf sat ready to sell his life dearly for their honour and hold. Grungni will surly welcome each and every one of them in to the hall of ancestors.
The skaven arrived in their thousands, a chattering hoard of evil red eyes and sharp teeth. The sound of the skavens charge thundered around the hall filling each dwarf heart with equal amounts of dread and hatred.
The skaven hoard hit the dwarven line hard but to the dwarfs’ credit they did not budge, the vile hoard broke against the dwarfs like the tide against the cliffs, however, with each attack a score of dwarfs died to the serrated blades of the rat kin and soon the dwarven wall would be eroded and the line would break.
The situation was becoming desperate now less than fifty dwarf warriors stood against the endless skaven, surrounding Lord O’Dubhda who turned rat after rat to smoking ruin with each stroke of his rune axe.
O’Dubhda prepared him self for the end, waiting for the final wave that would drown the surviving dwarfs in a surge of fur. O’Dubhda despaired at the fact that none of the other holds had come to their aid, the messages that were sent must have been intercepted, and now other clan would know of the plight of these brave dwarf kinsmen, and that their clan hold will soon become their tome.
Then far in the distance can a familiar sound… a faint thump. O’Dubhda thought he was hearing things but suddenly it became clearer and with each passing second louder. It was dwarven drums and the stout song of dwarven was songs. Was it the ancestors welcoming them in to the after life? Was it some cruel skaven trick?
No, the answer came as the doors to the hall were thrown open as a dwarven throng marched in to the room flying the banner of Lord Durgin Brunnison- Keeper of the silver gate. Durgin had been a kins dwarf of Snorri since his daughter had married Snorri’s cousin twice removed on his mothers side, Thane Ulli Ranekson , and since the wedding party and over a whole cellar full of best ale Snorri and Durgin had become oath brothers and cemented the bond between their hold.
Now surrounded by two dwarven forces the Skaven became scattered and confused, each mound of vermin bodies were piled between the two throngs. Soon the surviving skaven fled the battle leaving the dwarfs a brief respite, seizing their chance the dwarfs fought their way out of the hold and in to the safety of the world edge mountains. Snorri felt the anger against the rat kin and in front of all surviving dwarfs of his hold made an oath to retake the hold.
50 years on and Snorri had settled new lands 25 miles north of peak pass. Over the many years Snorri had rebuilt much of his former strength though the trade of his Dwarven Stout to the rest of the dwarven hold and had been using the profits to rebuild his armies. He was now ready and with the oath of Durnin to follow him in righting his grudge, Snorri ordered the throng to be mustered. He declared Crusade; at the head of his throng with book of grudges in his hand he marched to retake his hold and honour.