The messenger didn't even have to open his mouth. Thane Roshgar and the other dwarves readied their weapons.
Within mere seconds, all of the underground was filled with screams and screeches. Shield formations broke,
brave soldiers died on all fronts. The thane ran, heading towards the main line, where the heat of battle
was the most intense. The very rocks around them crumbled as the gunpowder of the dwarves wreaked havoc
among the enemies of dwarvenkind. Yet they kept moving forward. Thane Roshgar swung his axe, killing five
of the hated enemies with only one strike. He jumped towards another enemy, striking his axe right in its head.
They were monsters, creatures from the deep. Ever since the first contact with their kind, they had been
at war with the dwarves. They were ancestral enemies, fought against even longer than the cursed Demons.
Roshgar roared in triumph, boosting the morale of his surrounding dwarven soldiers. They were his followers,
his allies, his friends. They would stand and fight to keep their families safe from the monstrosities.
Then the earth started shaking. The earth tore apart, fire erupted from the newly created fissures.
Brave dwarves were either burned alive or fell into the gaps, into the lava below. A dark voice filled the underground.
The dwarves couldn't understand its foul language, but it drove their enemies onto the brink of madness.
In blind zeal, they pressed on their attacks. New monstrosities entered the battlefield, throwing the dwarves through
the tunnels with their bare hands.
Then, a gigantic flame approached, hailing from the deepest tunnel. The last thing Thane Roshgar could see, were
his followers, allies and friends being burned alive. Then, the flame reached him.
Hours later, when the reinforcements arrived, to secure the area, they found nothing but the smell of burned flesh.