The Battle of Karagorn Hold

The Battle of Karagorn Hold

The winds of war had swept across the mountains for weeks, relentless and unforgiving. Karagorn Hold, the heart of the Dwarven Emberhearts stronghold, stood as a proud bastion against the forces of the enemy—a coalition of marauding Orcs, brutish Goblins, and their savage allies. The stone walls, etched with centuries of history, had seen countless battles, but none as fierce as this.

It began at dawn. The first signs of the attack were the distant roars of war drums echoing through the pass, carried by the wind. The Dwarves of Karagorn Hold had been expecting an assault, but the sheer size of the invading force caught them off guard. Thousands, perhaps more, were pouring down from the mountainsides, an unrelenting tide of fury, wielding crude weapons and howling for blood.

The horns of Karagorn sounded, and the Dwarves rallied to their posts with grim determination. The gates were slammed shut with a deafening crash, but it was already too late for many. The enemy came in waves—hulking Orcs battering down the outer defenses, goblins sneaking through the shadows, and foul creatures that seemed to melt into the very rocks themselves.

Belnar, one of the last to join the fray, stood tall amidst the chaos. A warrior with a reputation for his unyielding resolve, his iron-clad heart burned with a fierce desire to protect his kin. He fought at the frontlines, wielding his axe with deadly precision, cutting down Orc after Orc as the blood of friend and foe alike stained the stones beneath his feet.

The sounds of battle echoed through the hold’s stone halls—shouts of rage, the clash of steel, the deep thrum of war drums shaking the very foundations. But it was the walls that held, the Dwarves that fought with every ounce of their strength. Karagorn Hold had been built to withstand sieges, and the mountain’s thick stone walls were an advantage few could breach.

But it wasn’t the outer walls that were the threat—it was the tunnels. The enemy had learned long ago that Dwarves were masters of stone, and now they used that knowledge against them. A group of goblin sappers, hidden in the shadows, had breached the underbelly of Karagorn Hold, setting explosives beneath the foundations. The first explosion cracked the earth like a thunderclap, sending stone and dust flying through the air. The hold’s defenders staggered, confusion setting in as the tunnels began to collapse.

Belnar, fighting through the carnage, was one of the first to hear the rumble of the collapse. Realizing what was happening, he pushed forward, rallying the Dwarves in the lower halls to stem the tide of invaders pouring through the newly breached tunnels. His footsteps rang with purpose as he charged into the chaos, cleaving through enemies with ruthless efficiency, buying precious moments for the civilians and the wounded to escape.

In that moment, Belnar’s bravery shone like a beacon in the heart of the storm. But fate, as ever, was cruel. In his haste to push deeper into the tunnels, he was caught off guard—an Orc brute, its green skin slick with blood, struck him from behind. The blow was brutal, a mighty war axe sinking deep into his side. He fell to the ground, his vision swimming as the pain surged through him.

Yet, even as the life drained from his body, Belnar did not fall into despair. With one last surge of will, he raised his axe and struck down the Orc in a single, defiant blow. It was a death befitting a warrior, but a warrior nonetheless. And in that final moment, Karagorn Hold held—just barely.

As the battle raged on and the Dwarves fought with everything they had, the enemy began to falter. The sheer strength of the mountain’s stone walls, combined with the unbreakable will of the Dwarves, proved to be too much. The invaders were forced to retreat, their casualties mounting, their morale shattered. Karagorn Hold had held… for now.

But Belnar was gone. His body, now a symbol of sacrifice, was carried away with reverence, the weight of his loss heavy in the hearts of those who survived. The battle had been won, but the cost was clear: the war was far from over, and Karagorn Hold would need every ounce of strength it had left to endure.