In the underground Dwarven citadel of Khazadar, millions of hardworking dwarves have labored deep into the bowels of the world of Garta, looking for the most precious metals. Disregarding ancient warnings of evils locked into Garta's center, on the 30th moon of May, 12th year of the reign of Haagun V, the Dwarves breached the wall of a dark city. Within lay the most terrible thing the Dwarves of Khazadar had ever encountered.
For deep within the baleful city of Cthan, the Old Race lay waiting.
The Old Race is a race unlike any other; mere legend in only the oldest of manuscripts, they are sometimes referred to more simply as the Thex. Powerful creatures, as strong as an Orc and far more sinister and intelligent, they stand six feet tall, burnished in black metal armor and possess clawed, webbed feet and a stream of tentacles from their circular mouths. Their arms are long and powerful, each able to heft war-hammers inscribed with mind-aching runic script.
The Thex poured out of Cthan, awakened by the intrusion after unknown aeons of isolation and exile from the other races. Driven by a desire to turn Khazadar into a blood-sacrifice to their deity of Rag'mach, they wasted no time in bringing a war of a scale the Dwarves had never seen in their lifetime.
In the midst of this chaos lies the fortress of Ghandul. Hewn a hundred and fifty years prior from volcanic basalt, the Empire of Khazadar had made it the gateway into the deepest caverns. At Ghandul, choked with refugees, fleeing miners and wounded Dwarven warriors, the Dwarves make their stand against the Thex. Reinforced by a full 3,000 fresh soldiers, Khazadar will hold here or fall.
And here you come in, thrown right into the midst of the chaos.
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