"Sound the alarms!" Borik shouted, his voice hoarse with urgency. "To arms! Now!"
The horns of Garnath castle blared across the cliffs, their deep notes shattering the morning calm. Dwarven warriors scrambled to their stations, clad in reliable armor and clutching heavy axes and rune-forged hamrs. Ballistae were loaded, cannons prid, and walls fortified in monts. The dwarves after all, were more chanical than all other races.
The ship continued its slow, ominous approach, the air itself seeming to darken in its wake. Suddenly, the warship's massive tal doors creaked open, a grinding noise echoing across the water.
The dwarves waited desperately for the ship to touch ground and co closer, so they could open fire, but the most unexpected thing followed.
From within the open doors, undead creatures poured forth, hundreds of them. Their grotesque forms, twisted and armored, took to the skies on shadowy wings, while most fell into the ocean with sickening splashes. Living skeletons, zombies, and even a few spectral wraiths advanced forward, their chilling energy filling the air and replacing the ocean breeze.
"Undead?!" one of the dwarves gasped, his knuckles white around his war hamr. "What foul sorcery is this?"
Borik gritted his teeth. "It doesn't matter. Hold the line!"
The undead struck with terrifying speed for their kind, quickly making way to shore and crashing against the dwarven defenses like a living tide of death. Wraiths swooped down, bypassing walls and cannon balls fired to strike at those behind.
The dwarves, however, were nothing if not resilient. They responded with in kind, hamrs breaking down bones and axes cleaving through undead limbs.
"Hold strong!" Borik roared, swinging his massive hamr into a skeletal knight, the force of the blow sending shattered bones flying, affecting a group behind it. "Protect the gates!"
The city's ballistae and cannons fired relentlessly, bolts and shells smashing into the warship's hull and obliterating clusters of undead. Explosions lit up the battlefield as dwarven engineers unleashed crude looking but effective fla-throwers, incinerating hordes of shambling enemies.
All their weapons were reinforced with magic, so their battle power was formidable.
For hours, the dwarves held their ground, their sweat-soaked bodies refusing to give in. But even as the undead were cut down, more poured forth from the ship, an endless tide that threatened to overwhelm them.
As dusk began to fall, the dwarves managed to rally, detonating explosives along the outer cliffs, collapsing pathways and forcing the undead to stop below the steep cliff where they were slaughtered en masse.
By nightfall, the dwarves had finally regained control. The warship, though still hovering ominously in the distance, ceased releasing more undead. Its tal exterior groaned as its doors closed and it drifted back into the misty horizon, disappearing as swiftly as it had arrived.
Borik stood atop the battered walls, his armor dented and stained with ash and blood. He watched the departing ship, his jaw clenched.
"What in the na of the ancestors was that?" a younger dwarf muttered beside him.
Borik exhaled slowly. "A warning."
…
Word had reached the other dwarven kingdoms swiftly even before night fall, though not many could support with reinforcents. Following the news, a eting was called promptly.
"This was no ordinary attack," Throrin, the one heading the eting declared, his deep voice echoing off the stone walls. "That ship was not of this land, nor was its crew. Magic unlike anything we've seen before fueled those monstrosities. It's been ages since I've heard of undead, not even my own father encountered such foul creatures."
"Who do we inform?" one of the councilors asked. "The other races must know of this threat."
"Aye," Throrin agreed, stroking his braided beard. "Send word to the humans and elves. Let them know what we've faced."
"And the monster kingdom?" another councilor ventured hesitantly.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Throrin's gaze hardened as he spoke. "No. They are not our allies, and their ambitions have always made them a threat. We share this warning with those we trust."
"But we've always done business with them, besides, this warship cos for them as well—"
"Then let them deal with it," Throrin interrupted, his tone final. "The monster kingdom needs no help from us."
The council reluctantly agreed. "You must not have heard of their king's recent exploits then, truly saddening."
ssengers were dispatched that very night to the human and elven kingdoms. anwhile, Garnath Hold reinforced its defenses, knowing full well that the warship's departure did not an the danger had passed.
…
As the dwarves prepared for the worst, the warship drifted silently back across the ocean. Inside its tal hull, shadowy figures moved with purpose, their hollow eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. At the helm, a dark figure, cloaked and faceless, stood motionless, its presence radiating thick malice, so much that it ford a faint layer of energy escaping his body.
"The first test was… sufficient," it intoned in a hollow, resonant voice.
More ships, identical to the first, lurked in the mists behind it, mumming faintly.
"Our ti approaches. Soon, all will bow."
.
.
.
Within days, dwarven envoys arrived in the human kingdom of Valtheris and the ancient forests of the elven High Council. The reports they delivered left both races stunned.
"A flying warship," King Aldric murmured, his eyes narrowing as he read the envoy's account. "Unleashing undead by the hundreds… I see."
In the High Council's chamber, Ithil read the sa report, sending back word of his willingness to cooperate.
Both races reached the sa conclusion, inaction was not an option.
…
Just as the dwarves began fortifying their defenses, the enemy struck again. It began the sa way, the waters churned, and the flying warship erged from the ocean mist, its runed hull gleaming ominously in the twilight.
This ti, however, it brought more than just the undead. Massive constructs, earthly chanical monstrosities powered by ominous magic, lumbered onto the battlefield. Their hulking forms crushed stone and dwarves alike, their every movent a testant to the enemy's growing power.
"They bring golems this ti."
…
The battle raged for hours, the dwarves fighting with their characteristic resilience. As there were little undead this ti, they could focus on the golems, their explosives and firepower eventually bringing down the golems. Regardless of their victory, it was a pyrrhic one this ti.
As the battle neared its end, one of the undead broke through the ranks and stood atop the ruined gate. This one seed different than the rest, being strong enough to overpower a few dwarves that attempted to kill it. Its hollow eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and its voice bood across the battlefield in that mont as it spoke.
"Mortals!" it intoned, "you face the will of the Lord, master of death and dominion, Ruler over all! Your lands are but the first to fall. Submit, or be extinguished!"
The undead's ssage was punctuated by a shriek of unholy energy as it collapsed into ash without needing to be dealt with.
After the ssage, the warship retreated once more, leaving devastation in its wake.
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