Age of Conquest

The Dwarves were born from the Orcs, a surprising thing in all when one realizes that they look much like men or even Elves. They were exiled to the mountains of Khiburheim, and with the strength given to them by the blood of Wreux, they carved out a city. Lord Dolim Thirrak, founder of House Thirrak, set his empire to mine the gold, diamonds and gems that were embedded into Khiburheim's granite bulk.

The Dwarves became strong allies with the humans, and traded secrets of all sorts, from swordfighting to metalforging; trade of goods ensued. The race of men once again was on the verge of another golden age.

Then came the Orcs and their warchief-general Narod Glarmog with his armies and legions of bloodthirsty Orcs. They strove for blood, their primal lust for cruelty fueled all the more by their insane and demented worships of Danu. They tore down human villages, burned down towns and razed cities. They exploited their women and slit the throats of men, and pillaged all they could. Humanity was left defenseless, vulnerable, burning, out in the plains for all Tamaren to see. They scrambled for resources, trying to rebuild; but the Orcs, relentless in their assaults, like a storm swept away any rebellions and killed all hope that humanity had. It seemed like humans would disappear off the face of Tamaren, like their forefathers, the Aver.

The Dwarves upheld their alliance. They counterattacked on the Orc bases and forts, and their warhammers and rune mallets shone in the skies and slammed down on Orc helmets, breastplates, and bones. The Orcs retreated, but not before assembling another army to strike at the heart of Dwarven civilization - Khiburheim.

Narod Glarmog, founder of House Glarmog, had his legions in a frenzy for blood and glory once more. They sacrificed their own on altars dedicated to Danu; they prayed for days on end for luck and sharp blades. Their maniac yells, yips and shouts filled the skies for four days, and on the fifth day they charged towards Khiburheim, restless, thirsting for the familiar taste of blood in their fang-filled mouths.

The Dwarves hid behind their obsidian doors, and listened, for a year, as the Orc battering rams and catapults rained hellfire upon their gates. After a year of that pounding, the gate cracked, and the cracks spread throughout its massive bulk and it shattered it like a fragile, black pane of glass.

The dead angels must have been watching, for an arrow launched from the bow of one of his own archers struck down Narod Glarmog, impaling him in the chest. The Orc army suddenly lost its feeling of manic unity, and fled Khiburheim, to be chased by the Dwarves to Igon's Cliffs, where the Orcs made their last stand.

Unnumbered members of their race fell into the icy waters, to be swept away by the lethal currents; many more were crushed underneath the rune-enchanted warhammers of the Dwarf berserkers. The stand went on for a day, and the Orcs held their ground well. Yet when the sun rose, it shone into their eyes, the same eyes that had been living in the darknesses of hut-caves and trenches their entire lives. The Orcs were blinded, and the Dwarves charged one final time, pummeling the Orcs over the edge and into the sea.

So the Battle of Igon's Cliffs ended. The Orc race suffered extreme losses, but their rapid rate of birth rejuvenated their numbers back to health in less than a decade. Now, the Orcs forge weapons and armor that Tamaren has not seen before. Their experience in battle tells them that war is coming, and that they must prepare.