The Fall of Ancient Tonaria

Bound Keep was alive now, the sound of the sentinels crawled up through the vents in what once was Dwarven Territory. Whence they reached the bitter air and looked upon the army there was a sense of satisfaction in their demeanor: war had returned to these parts. The first to taste the bitter air was Dirimin, the ruler to now ruined Tonaria. His perch was well over thirty foot high, his reach was astounding and upon looking at him many of the Dwarves stopped dead in their tracks. This was the first Sentinel to have ever been seen by the waking Dwarves, and fear was in no short supply. The Sentinel King rose his sword, larger than that of a house, to the sky. Piercing the wind, his image would be burned into the psyche of Dwarves for generations to come. Holding his hand out to the army, the treachery began.

It was no small gesture. It was no request to council. It was no plea for surrender. It was the welcome to the tattered army with the only things sentinels knew how to express: horror. The black magics learned by these beasts were of no laughing matter as a wave of energy shot across the frozen field. Every warrior present heard the sound, the deafening noise, unforgettable and inescapable. In the ears of every Dwarf present was that of their kinsmen, every soul heard a direct descendant, in their last moments. Aforementioned, this moment, if any would survive, would define the likes of Dwarves until their extinction.

They heard the sounds of crashing rock coming from Divin’s molten core, they heard bedrock being cracked and opened. The blackness of the caves being lit by magma, and the sentinels coming forth from that which they were forged. The indescribable fear of every Dwarf as they tried to escape, the terror of every kinsmen while they made their futile efforts to warn their countrymen. The screaming of great Dwarves as they were torn asunder. The shaking of the caverns as the reverberations traveled to the surface. Every Dwarf on that field was subject to hearing the Sentinel Kings raid on the keeps and mines and bunkers and fortresses of old, simultaneously. Subject to the sounds of now long passed loved ones being slaughtered by any means. Soldiers who were tortured for the purpose of being tortured. Children who were slaughtered as examples to the other young ones who then ran, however senseless it was to run at that time. But the worst of all, the insurmountable pain that could not be described nor ignored came from that of the Sentinels. The laughter. The mechanical, grinding, screeching and unending laughter from the hearts of the Sentinels.

The ground below was done shaking, but the Dwarves still felt it. Every soldier on the field now cowered in fear as more of the Sentinels rose from the keep. The skies turned dark and the snow that fell with a pearly white shine, now turned dark and shadowy. The howl of the wind silenced, as did the screams from the Dwarves of old. The silence was almost as deafening as the spell cast upon the army and the company of Dwarves seemed as hopeless as their kin. There was not a soldier present who wouldn’t have gladly turned around and ran for Narza, ran for Tamins Plain or anywhere else but here. This was the nightmare that awoke the race, and caused endless turmoil in the hearts of those who survived. This was the terror that could only be faced by a soul as fearless and determined as the Sentinels themselves. This dread was in-applicable to Golmyn. He stood, seemingly feet above the Dwarves behind him. Rose his fiery axe to the air and muttered the words to lead.

“I will bow to no dead king, I will surrender to no faithless vagabond. You may be the bane of ancient Dwarves. But I am no legend in script.”

Golmyn took his axe and thrust it forward, launching it with irrefutable force. As the axe soared at the Sentinel King, time seemed to freeze. Every eye of every dwarf was on that axe and could not wander. The light that reflected from it’s cold edge seemed to grow with every turn it took towards the evil king. The darkness that had only just arrived, seemed to fade as it took its journey to the metal exoskeleton of Dirimin. In his surprise he was stunned, no being alive had ever shown the courage to stand against him. And in his arrogance he took the blow from Golmyn’s axe. The sound of metal on metal would not suffice in the description of this, Golmyn’s axe seemed to take a motive of it’s own in this moment and thunder rolled through the field. A light of a hundred suns emanated from the blow and blinded all for only a moment. And when that long moment had ended, the Sentinel King was falling from the perch of the keep. The shockwave had caused other sentinels to fall too, and the horror that was once in Golmyn’s countrymen, now coursed through the sentinel that remained.

The sound of the beast hitting the ground shook every soldier standing. But this act had reanimated the horrified Dwarves. The traitor king would be banished no longer.