Enemy at the Gates

The flames vibrated softly in the brazier, unaware of the outside events that
hovered over the Great City that from the first coming of Chaos had been
erected as Capital and Stronghold of the DawiZharr. Alone in his private
chambers, Gorth the Cruel, de facto ruler of the Chaos Dwarfs sought an
explanation for the inexplicable succession of misfortunes that had
culminated in which, it seemed, and if the Father of Darkness not remedied,
could well be the last day of Mingol Zharr-Naggrund.

How could this have happened? The return of Chaos had completely
destroyed the balance of power, not only in the Plain of Zharr, but in the
entire world. Volcanoes, already active, began to spit the Blood of the
Father of Darkness with unusual force that led the Council to interpret it as
a sign that the Will of Hashut was that their Children must go to war. Even
that damned piece of cracked stone of Astragoth agreed...

All went well at first. Artillery trains crossed the Plain of Zharr in north
toward Uzkulak. There troops from all Fortress and Towers throughout the
Dark Lands gathered, from the Brotherhoods of Zharr to the Slavemasters
of Gorgoth, with their untold hordes of slaves. The imposing siege machines
from Daemon's Stump were guarded by the Hellforge Guard. Even the
Legion of Azgorh, still hampered by the failed raid nearly two decades ago
had sent an impressive contingent of the Infernal Guard.

And from there the children of Hashut departed eastward. He still

remembered when the emissaries of the Great Hobgobla Khan arrived to
the Capital with news of how the East was immersed in an uncontrollable
crisis that plunged the Celestial Dragon Empire in a complete state of
anarchy. The opportunity to capture the countless numbers of slaves who
lived Cathay was one that should not be missed. Astragoth himself imposed
his own position as High Priest of Hashut to take command of the
expedition.

Gorth could not help but let out a slight smile remembering his old
nemesis...

Couriers and demons who had questioned on how the progress of

DawiZharr told him that it was as relentless and ruthless as a sea of lava. It
seemed that the very Hoof of the Bull Father had fallen on those distant
lands, and that's how the artillery of the Chaos Dwarfs started hitting the
Great Bastion. The imposing defensive structure, which had supported the
thrust of the Hordes of Chaos and the Hobgoblin riders for millennia fell in
one day before the inexorable Hammer of Hashut. His subordinate, Rykarth

the Unbreakable led the first assault to the gap, and was the Granite Guard
which waved the flag of the DawiZharr on the Obsidian Gate. Trains slaves
began to return to the Capital and hundreds of thousands of slaves were
sacrificed in honour of the Father of Darkness.

And that was when the sweet blood of captured enemies turned to ashes in
their mouths.

The hordes from the Ogre Kingdoms scattered over the defenseless eastern
lands, in a futile attempt to escape the destruction of their own home in the
Mountains of Mourn and there were numerous clashes between the Chaos
Dwarfs and the Ogre tribes. Casualties began to be important. What the
troops of the Dragon Emperor had not gotten, the tribes united under the
banner of Golgfag Maneater, gradually, succeeded. But misfortunes never
come singly... The hordes of Grimgor Ironhide, a former slave who had
proclaimed himself the chosen of the savage Orc gods descended on the
Obsidian Gate with a tide of Orcs as the world had never seen. Attacked by
both fronts, the imposing army of the Sons of Hashut was overwhelmed by
the endless flood of brutal troops. He still remembered how he had to
torture a demon of the Great Deceiver to learn how Rykarth fell surrounded
by his Granite Guard, unable to stop the flow of flesh, metal and fangs. The
Ironhand himself became at last stone after using his last vestiges of power
in a futile effort to turn the tide of battle...

There was no longer any hope. The troops of the Chaos Gods walked the
Plain Zharr. The industrial complex of The Daemon's Stump had been
passed through blood and fire by the emissaries of the Blood God, depriving
the Sons of Hashut of their enormous artillery power.

Now Grimgor had crossed the Gates of Zharr and his hordes besieged
Mingol Zharr-Naggrund. And in those moments, quite possibly the last of his
existence, looked at the golden mask that sat on his lap and understood
what it must feel Zhargon the Great when the Immortals led by Lord Khal
Drakaz were at the doors of the Great Temple of Hashut willing to end his
reign of terror.