Dalthin Ironhood

The great halls of the Kingdom of Grimbardun follow the seams of precious metals and minerals deep beneath the northern Agniavas. The Chaos Empire sought these riches, but the mountain dwarves closed their gates and reinforced their defenses. When the legions attacked, the kingdom refused to fall. Eventually, Silus of the Rift called off the siege. As long as the stunties remained holed up in their caves, there was no need for more legionnaires to die.

And so the dwarves of Grimbardun shut themselves off from the world, indifferent to the atrocities committed outside their halls. But while Silus had chosen to preserve the combat power of his legions, it turned out that certain splinters of his Host had no compunctions about dying en masse.

In the subterranean caverns deepest beneath Grimbardun, its dwarven laborers—miners, ranchers, gardeners, and harvesters—began to disappear. Just a few at first. Then more. And more. Dalthin Ironhood and his company of fighters were tasked to protect those that remained and find the ones who had gone missing. He hoped to find them alive, and when he did, he wished he had found them dead.

They came shambling up from the Deep, infected with mycelial corruption—skin mottled with fungal growth, toadstools sprouting in clusters across their bodies, eyes clouded, movements erratic and jerky. Dalthin and his company of fighters fought them off while the laborers fled. Although the dwarves were victorious, many fell to that ponderous, mycelial advance, and Dalthin knew they would return.

And return they did.

He told the Council of Elders that a company wasn't enough. They gave him a battalion. And when that wasn't enough, a brigade.

Dalthin Ironhood continues to fight back the tide of mycelia that rises from the Deep, and Queen Mycelia continues to send her endless brood against them. The dwarves are losing ground. Gardens and ranches have been lost. Water sources and food supplies are dwindling.

Still, the gates of Grimbardun remain shut.