In Grungni's name, High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer summons the Kings of the Karaz Ankor to a Council of Kings at Karaz-a-Karak to discuss and decide matters of great import to the realm...
King Belegar frowns in thought as he and his brother-kings and sister-queen are led on a long, winding path through the halls of Karaz-a-Karak. He lived his childhood in this mountain, and never before had he stepped foot in these passages. He was quite certain that they, like most of the Karak, had been sealed at some point in the prior generations as the population of the Karak had dwindled.
As was so often the case in recent years, Belegar's mind drifts to the question of Karaz-a-Karak. Ever since his ever-reliable Loremaster had uncovered the matter of the siphoned energy, he had wondered what purpose Karaz-a-Karak had been putting it to. Was this part of the answer? Was it somehow needed to reopen sealed portions of the Karak? Was the High King planning to take a page from his own book and start trying to lure in settlers from other Holds? It was hard enough to convince a Clan to uproot themselves to build a new life from scratch already, it would only become more so if Everpeak itself started pursuing the very same goal. Perhaps he should have brought Mathilde along on this, so that her keen senses could have assayed whatever it was the High King was up to in these long-abandoned halls.
At last the courtier leads the monarchs through a set of double doors, and despite having travelled throughout the Karaz Ankor and having seen most of the wonders it had to offer, Belegar could not prevent his eyes from growing wide. The hall they entered was larger than his own Clan Hall and every wall was lined with a four rows of large and seemingly identical clear jewels. In the middle of the room stood the High King, and Belegar felt his stomach churn. Once he had looked up to the High King, but time and circumstance had revealed to him the true nature of the Dwarf he had once so admired.
Thorgrim surveys the array of crowns before him, a veritable mountain range of precious metals studded with the finest of jewels. "I have been your High King for one hundred and eighty-three years," he intones, "and I was chosen to be that King by the Council of Kings of that time for the promises I made, of reclamation and retribution. In doing so I claimed a crown that would otherwise have gone to King Ungrim or to King Belegar's grandfather. To fulfil those promises, the first act I performed with the Dragon Crown atop my brow was to lead the Throng of Karaz-a-Karak against the greenskins of Black Fire Pass alongside the Throng of Karak Hirn, and on that day we struck out several old and bitter Grudges. But Black Fire Pass has significance beyond being a place where the hated enemy dwelled, and beyond the trade that has passed through it ever since. It was the place where High King Kurgan fought alongside a human Chieftain by the name of Sigmar, and in doing so forever entwined the fates of our two peoples. And while there's many a time that Sigmar's heirs have fallen short of the example their ancestor set, I would call a liar any Dawi who would claim that we have not failed the example set by our own forebears.
"In the time since the battle in Black Fire Pass, I have spilled much blood to strike out many old Grudges, but never since have I done so much to fulfil the other half of the promise I made. In my focus on thinning the Dammaz Kron I have turned my 'Age of Reckoning' into a Slayer Oath for our entire people. But as I sought a noble doom for the Karaz Ankor, its Kings proved beyond any doubt that the honour of the Dawi still lives. With hope and bravery did Karak Norn, Karak Izor, Karak Hirn, and Barak Varr lend Clan Angrund all the might and materiel they could spare, and Karak Eight Peaks is now reclaimed and redeemed, and Karak Azul reconnected to the rest of the realm. With cunning and ingenuity did Zhufbar and Karak Kadrin devise a way to send an expedition to investigate the fate of fallen Karag Dum, and in doing so found a way to rescue Karak Vlag from the clutches of Chaos. And even as I speak great canals are being dug to link the waters of Zhufbar and Barak Varr with the rivers of the Empire. I sing the death-song for an Empire that has not been so large and interconnected since the Time of Woes. I act as Grungni striking out alone into the northern wastes, when I should be Grungni leading his people into a golden future!
"No more. For the first time in three thousand years, there is a Dwarfhold anchoring four of the five navigable passes through our mountains. If we had all five, we would be in a position to reach agreements with the Umgi nations to guarantee the safety of travellers and the vigilance against threats from the east, in exchange for a portion of the wealth that passes through our mountains and promises of mutual support against significant threats. But we cannot yet claim to rule the mountains that our Ancestors left to us. So in the coming years, mercenary forces from Barak Varr will work to secure the western approach to Mad Dog Pass, while Watchtower-Clans who have been living in the Grey Mountains for millennia will re-establish themselves in their ancient homes with every assistance from Karaz-a-Karak. And when sufficient forces have been gathered, I will personally lead an attack to retake Mount Silverspear and return it to the control of Clan Gunnisson. As we all know, it fell to the greenskins during the early centuries of the Time of Woes in what is now known as the Silver Road Wars. What few remember is that part of the reason it was lost is that an ancient wonder from the time of the Ancestor Gods that watched over the Silver Road was blinded by those tumultuous times.
"But now..." High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer spreads his arms, and each of the jewels inset on the walls begins to glow. "The Eyes of Grimnir will open once more." With a wave of illumination, an image protects from each one of the thousands of jewels, each showing a different part of a long, rocky road through the mountains. The images change after a few seconds, and then there's a low tone as one becomes framed in red light, and the image grows until it centers on a band of Goblins riding wolves along the road. Another tone sounds, and another image is framed in red, this time warning of a small group of Orcs on a mountainside peering over a rocky barrier at the road below. As more tones sound, the High King's smile grows. "That which is wrong with the world that we cannot fix with the blades of our axes, we shall surely rebuild."
