Oxymandias:
Hello all,
Wrote a little something explaining how my big hat beauties came to exist in the age of Sigmar retaining their old religion, dress and customs. I�?Tve tried to match the style of Sigmar lore. Which often focuses on the big actions of gods and powers unimaginable as opposed to the nitty gritty of day to day life. Proper high fantasy.
My thinking is that my dwarves lost their lives in the end times and were destroyed. Haashut went into some kind of sleep, coma or exile. Now awoken the lord of darkness has reforged his followers in the mountains of Aqshy.
Open to ideas , edits and constructive criticisms:
You can check out my blog for documenting the creation of this warband in the hobby section.
Oxymandias
We were forged in the fires of mountains and to the mountains we would always return. That was our fate. That was the deal that was struck. This bargain was honoured by my fathers and their fathers before them. All that we were was borrowed from the darkness, and the darkness would one day reclaim it all. We were born of his fire, smelted and poured into moulds. We emerged remade in the image of our lord, quenched in the blood of our enemies and sharpened upon the whetstone of battle. We were Dawi-zharr. The rightful masters of our world. Born to conquer and subjugate all before us, whilst the ashen air still filled our lungs.
Yet great power came at a cost. We knew that one day that we would be stone and then dust. And eventually we would return to the fires of our mountains, to be consumed by our lord and remade once more.
We learned that all other life was contemptible. It was fuel to burn in the engines of war. It was blood to be spilt upon our battlefields. It was food to sustain our lord. And yet the filth that crawled and slithered across our world was many, and we chosen were but a few.
And so it came to pass, that the tainted and unworthy did swarm upon us in such numbers that they did overwhelm us entirely. My immortal guard, my kinsmen and I felled by the blades of the green-skins, defiled and destroyed. A dishonourable death and a shame that�?Ts haunts us beyond the grave.
And when the great towers fell, and my Lord did call out in pain, our mortal remains were enveloped by the fires, and we, once more, became one with the stone and one with the mountains. My lord did close his eyes, and a tortured sleep enveloped his mind. Fire became stone and stone became dust.
That was in the world that was…
In the land of Aqshy, separated in both time, space and reality, in the bowels of mountains both new, yet ancient beyond imagining, my lord suddenly awoke from his long and troubled slumber. With his first breath he did inhale the ash clouds and brimstone, stripped the very iron from the earth and the magics from the air. And when he exhaled, he breathed us back into corporeal forms, pouring each of us like molten metals from a furnace. With his second breath, he breathed in the atmosphere of the new and exhaled the old, filling us with life anew but the ancient hatred and fury we did feel upon that day. And with his third breath, he called upon us all, his chosen few, to rebuild his edifices, to exalt both him and ourselves, and to take our rightful place as the rulers of all.
All inferior life shall tremble and kneel before us. The mortal realms shall shake before the furnaces of war and roar of our cannons. We shall rebuild all that was, and more. The age of Sigmar has begun, but the age of Hashut has yet to pass.
My name is Oxymandias, servant of Hashut and king of kings; Look upon my works ye goblins, and despair!