Enter the Eight Peaks

Enter the Eight Peaks

Nestled into the Worlds Edge Mountains in a great bowl ringed by eight peaks that stretch to the skies the Dwarfen Kingdoms forged the mighty hold of Karak Eight Peaks once known by the name of Vala-Azril-Ungol. Dwarfen engineering upon the surface merely hinted at the wealth and innovation that had begun in the vast stone halls beneath, with plazas and hidden gardens upon the upper tiers and industrious workshops, forges and foundries buried beneath. Further still the dwarfen miners dug deep into the roots of the mountains to amass a treasure befitting the glory of their kingdom. 

The city itself was well defended, their glory and wealth provoking the ire of lesser kingdoms of dwarf, man and creatures far more foul. Its vast stone walls were imagined to repel any assault that might come their way, though the arrogance that formed the foundation of such claims would prove as ill fated as the walls themselves. 

In the year of -513IC, over 4000 years following the first founding of the Dwarfen Kingdoms the Eight Peaks would meet their demise. The volcanoes to the south of the city erupted with a ferocity that drowned out the sun in clouds of ash, starved of its light the crops of the Karak began to wither and die. As the populace sought shelter within the hold from the volcanic bombardment roving tribes of Greenskins sought to take advantage of the freshly abandoned lands and spread their warpath deep into once safe land. 

No sooner had the Dwarfen defenders engaged the Greenskin tribes in battle than their hidden allies the Skaven burrowed up from deep beneath the mountain roots to invade the lower hold. Now caught between two foes with no avenue for retreat the butcher of the Eight Peaks was begun, though stoic and serving their ancestors proud one by one the dwarves fell to poisoned blade and sharpened axe.

What few rooms they could make secure for valiant last stands would soon become their tombs, discovering too late that the Skaven infiltrators had sown warpstone through their wells and irrigation. Torn between death by dehydration and the agony of warpstone poisoning a last charge allowed King Lunn and a handful of a population once counted in the tens of thousands to break through the Greenskin lines and make their escape from the Eight Peaks at the cost of a great many lives.

Now brimming with Ork and Rat alike the glory of the Eight Peaks diminished but its legend only grew, the memory of Dwarf kind hardens with the passing decades until the weighty rock of guilt and despair is crushed into the diamond of a grudge to be settled. Time had itself weakened the new defenders of the Mountain, the greed of the Skaven and the warlike nature of the Orks turned the once allies against each other. Now only the top tiers of the hold remained in Greenskin control whilst the wealth of the mountain and its industry swarmed with ratkin far beneath the stone.

Many have sought to reclaim the Eight peaks, their forces dashed against the stone walls that once stood to defend their kind, others slip and meet their demise at the end of Ork axe adding to the piles of bones that now litter the once sacred halls.

Where armies have failed perhaps a few heroes could succeed, slipping in through ancient stone artifice hidden from the eyes of the occupying forces. Now is the time to enter the Eight Peaks, to make good upon the Grudges, to reclaim your Honour.

Now is your time….