Chương 66: Chapter Twenty-Four: The Last Hold (Part VI)
A massive stasis-sarcophagus was pulled from its tomb. A monument of carved obsidian, built into the deep caldera's walls. Eight Hearthguard in full armor marched into the deeps along with the War-Priests. Who carried the sarcophagus from its resting place along the Infernal roads. Pathways cut into the massive volcanic chamber then fed into the Rikkariz upper caldera. The War-Priests wore the minimum protective gear, their skin a collection of burns and battle scars. In unison chanting a dirge of vengeance. Carried up from the deep the coffin of Ur-Dammaz was taken to the Royal-Armory. Where the Hold-Lords and High-Kings of the ancient past readied for war.
Surrounded by the War-Council and the Priests of Grimnir the ancient rites to unlock the coffin begin. Soon, the sarcophagus opened and a cloud of steam billowed out from it. Emerging like some primordial titan of the Old Earth. The Grudge Breaker arrived. Easily twice as tall as the largest Squat and big enough to tower over even the thin-boned cousins of the outer galaxy. Ur-Dammaz was a giant of a Khazkhun. Proportioned like his kin, but magnified by psychic power. Every injury he had taken over millenia had healed stronger. Bones grew denser and larger. Organs engorged and grew more efficient. Flecks of shrapnel from countless wounds grew into his skin. Faint slivers of gunmetal forming a pattern of internal chainmail upon his body. Bald except for a mighty flowing crimson beard. With ruddy skin of copper tones. Nude except for a tattered loincloth Ur-Dammaz looked around him with onyx black eyes and spoke in a deep rumbling baritone: "What must die by my hand?"
While Ur-Dammaz had been awoken many times throughout the Ork Wars. It had not been for centuries. He was to be only roused when no other options were available. The sheer quantity and power of the grudges stored within Ur-Dammaz was more than his soul could take. His very presence leaked an aura of bitter fury that seeps into the soul. Already weaker willed Squats in his presence found the wrathful melancholy the Grudgekeepers were created to stop entering their minds. Like an overfilled cup, the stuff of Ur-Dammaz's gestalt soul poured into the world around him.
The Hold-Lord of Khazrik stepped forward. Buri Flameshield was his name. Leader of the Flameshield clan which ruled Khazrik for as long as there were clans. A noble and proud lineage who had produced many High-Kings of the Khazkhun. Before that elected monarchy ended with the fall of Linnar-Khaz. Burin in a shocking display of respect knelt and spoke: "Lord Keeper, Grunhag has come. He wishes to face the mightiest Khazkhun in single combat this coming dawn. If slain the eternal siege may be lifted."
To this Ur-Dammaz simply nodded and bellowed to the Guild-Masters and Armory-Thanes "You heard the Hold-Lord, Bring me an Axe! I'll take the cursed Greenskins head when Star-Karag crests the horizon"
Throughout the rest of the day and night, which lasted nearly a relative terran week. The Grudge Breaker was armed and armored. His mighty suit of Power-Armor, was bolted into his flesh. Its mind impulse units jacking right into his spine without any pain-aids. Ur-Damamz did not seem to even notice. Instead of a proper helmet a mixture of a gorget and coif that covered his neck, sides and back of his head. But not the face or top. The MIU plugged into his nerves would allow the armor to keep up with his movements. A helmets display would never match his own eyes. Ur-Damamz's mighty beard covered his breastplate and reached his legs. Adornments ranging from ancestral charms to miniaturized energy shields were woven into it.
In a final touch scores of runes were painted on the armor in ancient red ochre from long distant worlds. A memento of the eldest magic known to mankind. Wizened crones known as Daughters of Valaya inscribed the runes as they prayed to their ancestors. Bowing his head in respect to the blessings laid upon him Ur-Dammaz thanked the Daughters and went to claim his weapon. A pair of Squat war-walkers lumbered into the Royal-Armory. Each piloted by respected Golemnauts. Entrusted to carry the Axe of Doom to its destined owner. Crafted by generations of Squat artificers over millennia. It was arguably the single greatest weapon meant for close quarter combat the Khazkhun had ever produced.
It was a titanic and beautiful thing. Originally crafted for use by a Mountain-Guardian class war-walkers. Which were the largest and most powerful of infantry class war-walkers. The Axe of Doom had turned out to be simply too heavy for even the prodigious synth-muscle and hydraulic systems of the Mountain-Guardians. Three meters from its knob to its double-head. It's haft was of Mourn-metal and inscribed with runes and circuits. A grip of Lava-Serpent leather covered most of the Axe's bottom third. The massive weight of the weapon came from its head. A single massive pseudo-diamond from deep within Grungron had been carved into a double axe head. The super-dense crystal lattice of metallic alloys further refined by techno-alchemy to be indestructible by all known means. Atomically-welded to the mourn-metal haft with inlaid precious gems carved in the shape of divine symbols.
It had required two war-walkers to transport into the Royal armory and present it to Ur-Dammaz. The ancient Squat demigod examined the weapon and picked it up with a single hand. Casually twirling the many-ton Axe of Doom like a reed-stone staff. In his grip the runes on the Axe started to glow and its power field flickered into being. Remarking more to himself than anyone else Ur-Dammaz muttered: "It'll do."
Leaving the armory with a procession train of renowned Squats behind him. Ur-Dammaz headed for the Ancestor-Gate. He walked slowly, a plodding pace that required his attendants to jog and keep up with his giant strides. Ur-Dammaz entered into the heart-road of Khazrik. A mighty thoroughfare that wound from the Ancestors gate deep into Grungron. Forming the bottom of an artificial canyon carved into the stone and hosting a city. The heart-road had cleared of traffic, from the volcano-trams, lifter-cars and cyclops defense tanks to common pedestrians. Empty save for the Grudge Breaker and his cohort. All across Khazrik, bells were rung and songs of vengeance were sung. Great throngs of Squats from all walks of life teemed the cliff-boroughs and carved citadels along the heart-roads walls. All seeking to witness Ur-Dammaz march to war.
Ancient hymns as ingrained in the Squat culture as the stone itself carried through the vast canyon. An impromptu choir millions strong chanted in a dirge for the Last Hold.
" When the hammer falls, And it sounds through the halls, When the hammer falls, Freeing treasures from the walls, When the hammer strikes, And the kingdom comes to life,"
The Hold-Lord and his followers started to weep softly as they followed behind Ur-Dammaz. The psychic effects of the Grudge Breakers overflowing souls already being felt. So much pain, so much lost. Worlds stolen, treasures lost, bloodlines ended, wonders forgotten, and so many dead. The long bottled grief of millenia started to flow free. Every single Squat that lined the canyon and filled the Last-Hold was scarred by the Ork Wars. By personal loss of family and friends. Or cultural decay and the pressures of constant siege. The Khazkhun were a dying people and this was their living wake.
"When the hammer falls, Forging weapons for all, When the hammer falls, Songs of battle fill the halls,"
Ur-Dammaz finally reached the Ancestor Gate. The wall of adamantium stretched towards the enclosed heavens of Khazrik. Flanked by twin statues. Titan-sized monuments to the Squats endurance. Standing before the Gate. the champion held his axe high. The twin statues started to move at this signal.. Not statues but each a massive golem designed to guard the gates against all. Stone shaking footfalls rumbled through the canyon as the Golems each grabbed hold of a massive adamantium handle upon the Ancestor-Gate. Slowly the metal giants pushed open the gate. Its colossal hinges letting out a plaintiff groan as they swung open. Just enough for Ur-dammaz to exit the Last Hold.
"When the hammer falls, Back our enemy crawls When the hammer quakes, Orkish cowards' bones will break, When the hammer cracks, And it beats their armies back, When the hammer's boom, Sends the monsters to their doom,"
The last few words of the song of the Squats echoed behind the Grudge Breaker as the great adamantium gate closed behind him. The Gatehouse cavern was not empty when Ur-dammaz entered it. Rows of Khazkhun soldiers formed up across its battlements and yard. Standing perfectly still like an army of statues. The mighty of the Khazrik hold assembled to stand against the Greenskins. Ur-Dammaz marched past them and out into the pre-dawn light of Grungron. One way or another today would be a reckoning for the Orks.
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