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POV of Duran Snorrison

Nachgeheim 30-,2491 IC-Nachhexen-5 -2492

One of the greatest trials our people had ever faced rose before us. The gods had blessed our clan with a true dawongi, an ally of our kind in spirit, who had protected us tirelessly during the harsh recovery of our Karaks. Now the time had come to repay that debt—and repay it as only the dawi know how.

The dawongi had entrusted us with the most colossal task any clan had received in generations. Even with the twenty thousand dawi who inhabit my halls today, never had we undertaken such an enterprise. Our ally had secured an agreement with the men of the Empire—an arms deal of colossal proportions—but he lacked the means to produce on the scale required by his plan. Thus, he placed his trust in our hands and our craft, asking us to raise, beside his laboratory, the greatest forge and armament manufactory complex the umgi had ever laid eyes upon.

The chosen site was on the slopes of the Grey Mountains, by the river dividing the fertile lands of Reikland from the western marshes. The water would power the great wheels and feed the steam boilers that would drive our machinery. To the dawi engineers, this was no obstacle, but rather a challenge worthy of their talents.

The only factor that held us back were the runesmiths, for their hands were still occupied with the great order of rune-armors and rune-blades we had only recently completed. Yet, since the rediscovery of ancient tomes of our lineage, the rune-clans had come to my Karak in droves, eager to learn and preserve the art of the ancestors. Never before had runes been forged with such speed, never before had we gathered so many trustworthy engravers beneath a single roof.

What the dawongi asked for was no mere umgi forge, but a titan of stone and steel. Five hundred square meters for specialized machinery: drills for steel, rifled molds, presses and assemblers for the firing mechanisms of firearms. Another five hundred meters of roaring forges dedicated to producing the highest quality steel, ceaseless and relentless. All of it powered by a network of boilers running through the complex like veins of fire, distributing steam to every workshop and hammer.

Our wisest engineers would design mechanisms no umgi could even imagine, and our runesmiths would carve countless protective runes: against demons, and against the inevitable mistakes of human labor. A colossal task, yes—but for the honorable dawi people, no more than another step on our road to glory.

As soon as the order was given, I set every worker of my Karak to the task, along with the newcomers from other Karaks of Karak Ankor. Many sought a new home where they could raise stone halls; others hungered to learn the secrets of the ancestors.

Resources were no obstacle, for our umgi allies provided all we could not extract from the mountains. Thus, we could dedicate ourselves fully to the construction.

I often walked the construction zones to inspect the progress. Not a day passed without stumbling upon a great umgi military camp: hundreds, thousands of soldiers training relentlessly, preparing for another campaign of war. They ran, fought one another in friendly duels, marched in formation. Always there was movement, always the metallic clamor of swords and shouted commands.

I often saw my dawongi among them, practicing swordsmanship with his officers or leading the formations, as if that entire army were but an extension of his will. I did not know his goal, but we knew we had to deliver his armors and blades before he embarked on his next war.

During one of my regular inspections, while overseeing the moving of stone and the construction of walls and steam pipes, I decided the time had come to bring him the last shipment of his order. Thus, with all possible care, we loaded the great chests of rune-steel and marched toward the military camp.

Upon arrival, I saw the young umgi drenched in sweat, pushing their bodies to the limit.

"Come on… come on! If it doesn't burn, it's useless. Push until your body breaks, and then give one more effort!" roared my dawongi, striding among his exhausted warriors.

"One more, damn you! One more! Fight as if it were your last battle, as if you had to convince Sigmar himself that you are worthy of his blessing!" he bellowed, leaning over a soldier who could barely stand.

When he saw me, he left the group and approached, wiping the sweat from his brow with a cloth.

"Durán. Good to see you. Tell me, are there problems in the tunnels? Any threat beneath the mountain I should know of?" he asked with genuine concern.

"No, my dawongi," I replied. "I only come to deliver one of your previous orders. Our runesmiths have finally finished the armors you requested. Now they will focus on building the great factory. Given its size, it will take time, though we have many workers."

I gestured to my men, who were unloading heavy ornate chests filled with pieces of rune-steel.

"Excellent… these will be most necessary for what is to come," he said as he lifted a mail shirt in both hands, examining every link with care. "A masterpiece. I could expect no less from the dawi… your craft is unmatched."

"Where will you lead your warriors, dawongi? Will you need mine to accompany you on your march?" I asked.

"My steps will take me to Bretonnia," he replied firmly. "I have been entrusted with the honor of leading the Imperial vanguard. We shall crush the knights and, with some luck, free the Bretonnians from the yoke of their decayed nobility and their false worship of the Lady."

"May my ancestors guide you in that campaign, and may you return alive, my dawongi," I said with solemnity.

"Thank you… With some luck I'll return alive—and with more gold to order even more of these armors. I'll be needing them in great numbers sooner or later," he replied, pausing for a moment. Then he looked me directly in the eyes and added: "But speaking of future plans, Durán… there is something else I want to ask you first."

"Always willing to speak with you," I answered with a faint smile.

"I have plans for when my Bretonnian campaign ends, if Sigmar allows," said my dawongi seriously. "I want to secure some of the Imperial borders and then launch a campaign to the south, to aid the dawi in their struggles with the goblins and the thagoraki. But I am troubled… Do you think my help will be welcomed? I know many times the dawi consider unasked-for aid an insult, and I would like your opinion on this."

"You intend to travel south to free the Karaks? Such as Karak Eight Peaks or Karak Drazh?" I asked in disbelief.

"That is my intent," he replied, fixing his gaze on the distance. "I have had terrible visions of the future, and in many of them the dawi appear weakened, forced to fight too many battles at once. Incapable of lending their full strength in the great war against our enemies. That is why I consider it wise to send my men south, once this short war with Bretonnia is concluded… but here lies my dilemma: do you think the dwarf kings will look kindly on an umgi's intervention in the internal affairs of our people?"

"I do not believe there is a king who would reject the aid of such an honorable umgi," I answered firmly. "On the contrary, once they know it is you who leads this enterprise, they will be overjoyed. Your name is already celebrated in our mountains for the recovery of my Karaks. All the dawi lords will open the doors of their halls to you and shower you with honors."

"Good…" my dawongi sighed. "Because the greatest challenge in that venture will be logistics. Fighting against the southern princes, the greenskins, and whatever other spawn dwell there will be hard. For that I will need the support of the local Karaks. And if they could provide their aid with the airships, all the better. I know the dawi possess aerial fleets, and with their help we could move my men and resources directly into the heart of the campaign, instead of hacking our way through every enemy-infested valley. We would save thousands of lives."

"I can speak with some kings I am in contact with, to try to secure those air transports you ask for," I said with a smile. "Only some Thanes and kings have access to them, but I am certain we can secure them for when you are ready for your new campaign in aid of the dawi people."

"Excellent news… Then I hope the Bretonnian campaign is short, so we can once again focus on protecting our allies and striking the threats that hinder the recovery of the dwarf people. With some luck, we will be ready for that campaign," concluded my dawongi.

After the conversation, I watched as the umgi warriors began receiving the rune-armors, fitted to their sizes and assigned only to my dawongi's trusted men. At a glance it was clear they were chosen warriors, hardened and disciplined, who within moments were already testing their armor under the weight of steel and rune.

I remained watching a while longer, as they practiced maneuvers and battle tactics. They formed tight blocks of spears and pikes, withstanding the charges of mounted umgi trying to break their formation. It was a curious sight: the discipline of my kind, mirrored in men, under the gaze of a leader who seemed to mold them as steel in the forge.

Without delay I sent messengers to all the kings I was in contact with, to gather what my dawongi had requested. If he was willing to march south to fight for the dawi without asking anything in return, I could do no less than give my utmost to ease his campaign. Thus, our efforts redoubled: the factories began to rise at an unceasing pace, and the production of weapons for the Bretonnian campaign became our absolute priority.

Every umgi we received and equipped for that war meant one more warrior in the south, when the time came to face the goblins and the thagoraki in the battles for our lost Karaks. That is why, nearly every day, I descended to inspect the progress of the great factory. First we concentrated on the boiler hall, the heart of the complex, to ensure the machines would begin working as soon as possible. Within months that essential sector was complete, and the first machines for casting cannons and assembling muskets already roared with the breath of steam.

The less critical sections of the factory were adapted to house hundreds of umgi workers, who began laboring in continuous shifts, day and night. For this we used our glowing stones, which lit the workshops without rest. Work stopped only when the machinery needed calibration. Soon, production reached staggering numbers: crates filled with firearms left every day, destined for the armies of the Empire.

At the same time, the orders for powder from the dawongi multiplied. He had begun selling it to the umgi, but used Sigmarite priests as intermediaries. He wanted no necromancer or Imperial wizard to gain access to the substance, nor for their crude magic to profane the secret of his family's creation.

With each passing day, the factory drew closer to completion. By the following year, the umgi armies were already marching toward the lands of Bretonnia. War was at the gates, and in the deepest part of my heart, I hoped the heirs of Sigmar would return victorious… so that they might fulfill their promise to march south and aid my people in reclaiming our lost Karaks.

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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.

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