The Dead Arise

Second Moon
1255 AC (Aclian Calendar)

Without warning, Undead struck at the convoys travelling towards Virnfaldur, Aclian soldiers barely managing to hold them off as skeletons of ancient Dwarves wailed and moaned, striking with swords and axes that stayed true despite countless years of disuse.

"Riflemen, fire!"

With volleys of fire and brimstone, the riflemen shred several dozens of Undead attacking their position, years of practice granting them deadly aim. Supporting them were mages, Elven archers and shamans that summoned animal familiars to smash the Undead ranks. When they got close, shieldbearers formed an unyielding wall of steel that refused to budge an inch, retaliating with rotary thrusts of their spears.

Not one Undead made a tactical withdrawal or fled in fear, simply attacking until the very last of their number lay dead in the ground.

Once they were safe, the Aclian captain in charge of protecting the diplomatic convoy heaved a sigh in relief.

"What the fuck? I thought the roads were safe, what in the name of the Gods is going on here?"

"Undead Dwarves," Said a gruff voice, "Something has raised these long dead warriors from the grave, and I smell the taint of Necromancy."

"Master Bofurn, you're certain?" Asked the Aclian captain.

The Dwarven captain huffed but nodded.

"I've dealt with their kind too many times, looking to plunder our rich vaults and the ceremonial weaponry we used to bury our dead with," Bofurn explained, "And yet... something tells me this isn't the end of it. We must hurry to the Dwarven capital."

Bofurn was an aged Dwarf whose beard had begun to turn gray. Like others of his race, he was a short, stocky hunk of muscle, dressed in finely crafted Dwarven garb and a layer of chainmail under his fine clothes of silk and cotton. His face was lined with wrinkles, long memories of anguish and strife writ on his features, his eyes full of black bags. He smoked from his pipe, the tobacco calming his nerves as he steadied his grip on his horse's reins.

"As you say, Master Bofurn," The captain nodded, "But how could this have happened? I thought you said that Dwarven burial vaults were sealed with magic and blessed by the Dwarven gods. How could they have been broken into?"

"...I don't know, Captain Tulman," Bofurn admitted, "And that's what worries me."

The Aclian delegation soon arrived at the gates to Virnfaldur, where Dwarven sentries stood guard outside a pair of massive gates of Thomril, glittering like lapus lazuli and shining with a fresh glow, guarding the entrance to the Golden Tunnels where the Dwarves resided. Like guardians of a giant's kingdom, a pair of Dwarven statues stood tall and proud, carved out of granite and bearing massive axes.

As the convoy neared, Bofurn narrowed his eyes once he got a proper look at the Dwarven sentries. Their heads sagged every now and then, their eyes thick with fatigue, the air of gloom lingering on their persons. Upon seeing the encroaching delegation, they stood up straight and shook their heads.

One of them thumped his spear on the ground.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Ho there! We are a diplomatic delegation from Aclia, come to entreat with King Thuzarm of Virnfaldur!" Captain Tulman answered, "May we enter?"

The Dwarven sentries narrowed their eyes.

"Aclia is the name of the continent, so speak, where exactly do you hail from?" The lead sentry asked.

"We hail from the Empire of Aclia, to the south of Virnfaldur," Bofurn answered, "We have only recently established our country, and seek to make friends with the Dwarves for trade and mutual security."

"Is that so?"

"We have no reason to make enemies of you."

The sentry sighed, partly in relief, partly with exhaustion.

"You're perhaps the first friendly faces we've seen in a while, especially with the news blackout we had over the past few months," He said, "Damned Undead have been hammering at our defences without end, striking from both the surface and the tunnels. From what we know, they've begun attacking other Human villages and even noble estates in the surrounding area."

Bofurn and Tulman exchanged glances, understanding the implications.

"That would explain the Dwarven Undead we just fought," Captain Tulman mentioned, "Is it possible to enter and seek audience with the King, however?"

The sentries exchanged uneasy looks, and then turned back to face Tulman.

"Technically, your entourage may enter the Kingdom and the royal court has no reason to refuse you," The lead sentry said, "However, I must warn you in advance that tensions between the king and his ministers are at an all-time high. They spend too much time bickering and cockblocking each other while the Undead batter at our gates. If you find your request for audience denied..."

Tulman simply nodded in understanding.

"Thank you for explaining," He said kindly.

The lead sentry nodded, and then shouted, "Open the gates!"

The gates opened with the sounds of great cranking as the winch was cranked, and the entourage entered the home of the Dwarves. Many Humans had their breaths taken away, seeing the immaculate Dwarven craftsmanship on display. Every Dwarven building was akin to a castle in grandeur and sustenance, free of blemish and imperfections, nary a wrinkle on the smooth edifice, the stones glittering like gemstones, the streets paved with meticulous precision and the lights themselves crystals set in lanterns that burned eternally.

The sentries led them towards the Assembly Chamber, where the din of shouts and accusations could be heard from behind the thick doors of bronze-coloured metal.

"Here is the Assembly Chamber," Said the sentry, "I will relay your request for audience, but I must ask you expect the worst."

"Of course," Bofurn nodded.

"We must let the Brimstone Clan use their technologies on the battlefield! They alone can turn the tide!"

"Never! They relentlessly break with tradition, and they refuse to heed our commandments regarding the advancement of technology! They refuse to conform to social norms as they should!"

"But the Undead continue to swarm our defences and our soldiers grow increasingly battle-weary! We've lost several farms, and if we don't push them back, our rations continue to dwindle, and if the Undead do not kill us, starvation will! The Golden Tunnels will become our tombs!"

"And why should we compromise on the values that make us Dwarves, because our survival is at stake!?"

"Precisely because our survival is at stake that we must make compromises! Our King's brother died fighting the Undead because we refused to give him Brimstone aid!"

"Enough!!!" The Dwarven King roared, slamming a fist on his throne's armrest, "We debate to find a solution to the Undead crisis, and yet here you are, bickering like imbeciles! What good is an Assembly if this is all you're capable of!?"

The Assembly was silenced by the King's angry rant, and none dared break the silence. Just then, a soldier walked in, bowing before the Assembly and harrumphing.

"Your Majesty, Lords and Ladies of the Assembly, I apologise for intruding, but I wish to inform you that a diplomatic delegation has come to Virnfaldur, seeking to establish friendly relations with our kingdom," Said the soldier, "They call themselves the Empire of Aclia."

Hushed whispers erupted in the Assembly Chamber as they debated, while King Thuzarm contemplated the possibility of new allies after weeks of isolation.

"Let them in."

In stepped Bofurn the diplomat, flanked by soldiers of the delegation. In an instant, Thuzarm's eyes hardened upon seeing the old Dwarf, and his hands clenched into fists.

"Lord Bofurn, what brings you to Virnfaldur after so long?" King Thuzarm asked.