Worldbuilding Prompt #768 - The Dwarves of Gorgar Go To War

This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding community - Worldbuilding Prompt #768 - Deep Dwellers

The tale it tells is something that happened recently in the D&D campaign I've got going on. For the players, it was more background scene-setting, but here I'm telling it from the perspective of one of the NPC participants.

Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio

"Warriors of Gorgar !" the Vice-Vicreoy's voice rang through the cavern, clear and sharp as crystal glass.

"By the Terms of the Underice Compacts, I have summoned your King Hargrim to aid My Lady. You valiant warriors have the honour of being the shield of our allies, as they are the sword which will pierce the hearts of our enemies !"

The massive cavern was lit from high above; towering sheer rock walls were capped by the forever creeping ice of the Orvag Glacier. It was filled with grey-skinned dwarven warriors, drawn up in two massive blocks, serried ranks leaving a space clear for King Hargrim to stand facing the Vice-Viceroy. His form was slumped, defeated. He hadn't stood proud and tall (well, as tall as a Dark Dwarf can get...) for many years.

Facing the assembled army was the Vice-Viceroy, Lady Marath. She wasn't a dwarf. Her height, jet black skin and haughty bearing marked her out as one of the Dark Elves, a Drow priestess. She was in charge here. She knew it, and the dwarves knew it.

Standing at the back of the crowd of warriors, Guradd discreetly fidgeted and wriggled in his newly-issued armour. It was of the "one size fits none" variety, and was already chafing in all kinds of uncomfortable ways, rubbing his dark grey skin raw.

Yesterday he'd been an emerald miner, today he was a warrior. The recruiting officers hadn't offered a choice, they just swept through the mines grabbing people until they'd met their quota. To be fair, all the Dark Dwarves had military training, so it wasn't like an army of novices was being assembled.

Finally the interminable speeches were finished. Lady Marath turned and drew a shape on the back wall with her sceptre. It glistened and glittered gold around the edges, and the rock behind it faded to a uniform grey haze.

The Dark Dwarves marched through the portal four abreast, their feet tramping in unison. They may have been called to service just yesterday, but they were a dour, disciplined folk. King Hargrim stood to one side, waving them off. He wasn't going with them. He was too valuable a hostage for the Drow to let out into the wider world.

Guradd's turn came. With grey dwarves in front and behind, his rank of four shouldered their spears and stepped through the portal.

He blinked, dazzled. They were in a place of terrible brightness. The only solace was deep, dark clouds overhead, shielding them from the burning orb above. Flitting in and out of the clouds was the Viceroy herself, riding atop her massive white dragon. She was spellcasting, and clouds flew from her wand as she went, protecting the dwarven army from the sun's rays.

They were in a city, but one which was open to the sky. It was full of small square-sided artificial caverns. The folk standing in the doorways and looking out of the windows were huge, taller than the dwarves, and a strange pinkish-pasty colour. They watched with curiosity as the dwarf army emerged from the portal and marched towards a gateway pierced in the city walls.

As the army filed though the gateway, their officers shouted and called to them and deployed them into a battle line.

That was when Guradd saw the approaching dust cloud. He nearly wet himself, his life had been enclosed by tunnels and caves, he'd never seen anything so big. Then, emerging from the leading edge of the cloud, he saw a line of chariots rattling towards them at great speed. Hundreds of them. They were drawn by pairs of horses, but fleshless tireless horses made of just bones. The chariot crews bore wicked-looking bows and javelins, and were swaddled from head to toe in ancient bandages dotted with amulets and charms.

"Oh crap.... " was all Guradd could say, as his bladder emptied itself involuntarily.