The Cursed Ore of Grimdur Gutwrencher

Delete if of no interest to Oldhammer. Posted here because the name Grimdur Gutwrencher was plucked from this miniature:

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Written by: Admiral
Illustrated by: Forgefire

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The Cursed Ore of Grimdur Gutwrencher

A choice number of Human warriors of Chaos from the north have been honoured with the legend of the Cursed Ore throughout the ages. After hearing this vile Dawi Zharr myth, none of them could ever again trust those invaluable Chaos Dwarf artefacts which they had come into possession of by barter or by payment for service. Yet such is the reward for the lost and the damned, and amidst the laughter of the uncaring Dark Gods they might just make out a deep background sound, as if from rolling thunder and the snorting of a great bull...



The Curse: It all began long ago, when the ascendant Daemonsmith Grimdur Gutwrencher led a contingent of the Infernal Guard in pursuit of the fleeing horde of Orc Shaman Jark Facestompa. The hunt across the vast nightmare expanse of the Dark Lands was long and arduous, and many times the Chaos Dwarfs seemed to have lost track of their faster yet lazier foes. Yet every time this occurred, Grimdur would curse the ashen earth upon which he stood, sacrifice a slave on the spot, and the Father of Darkness would grant him a vision to follow.

So it was, that Grimdur Gutwrencher pursued his prey across blasted landscapes and down tectonic cracks, deep into the bowels of the dead volcano Azgorh. After weeks of unrelenting stalking, the Dawi Zharr cornered the hiding Greenskins, who were all sleeping out of exhaustion in an ancient magma chamber. Even when a Snotling raised the alarm, most Orcs and Goblins were too worn out to care. Grimdur's Infernal Guards butchered the leaders and the largest of the Greenskins before enslaving the rest and putting them in rusty chains that would slowly eat away their wrists and ankles.

However, Jark Facestompa woke up in time to rally his bodyguard of ash-covered Savage Orcs. Fighting off the Infernal Guards at first, Jark hastily retreated with his warriors further into the desiccated magma channel. There, he began chanting and dancing in an exhaustion-induced trance, dragging his followers with him in a ritual that shrouded them in pungent and poisonous green gas.

Seeing Chaos Dwarfs and fresh slaves alike succumb to the Orcish gas, Grimdur Gutwrencher ordered the retreat, yet before leaving he unplugged a Daemonic flask and threw it into the roiling gas cloud, reciting the names of Daemons and cursing the very rock upon which the Orcs stood. Daemons of shadow and flame erupted from the flask, flailing and wailing madly. Orcs were ripped apart and turned into iron ore moments before the magma channel's roof collapsed.

Grimdur Gutwrencher returned home in triumph, and the cursed ore lay forgotten and untouched for centuries, deep within Azgorh.




The Forging: One day, the Tower of Gorgoth opened up a new mining shaft, leading into the magma chamber. Chain gangs of Greenskin slaves hacked away at the fallen rocks, until they came upon a vein of iron ore. The taskmaster whipped their backs and had them redouble their efforts to mine the ore. He sent a message back to his overlords, yet neither he nor the slaves under his command ever returned from the tunnel. Their remains were never found.

A taskmaster with a second chain gang was sent in, yet they too went missing after reporting of the exhaustion of the short iron ore vein. Their corpses were never retrieved. A third chain gang managed to haul a train of mining carts filled with ore to the treadmill elevators before they dropped dead simultaneously, their husks visibly being eaten away by some invisible force until nothing remained.

Two more work gangs of slaves were expended in this manner before the ore had been lifted up to the surface and put into a furnace. There, the five sons of Daemonsmith Engineer Arrazkrulim Flamefist assisted their father in the melting of this ensorcelled iron ore. Yet no matter what he did, Arrazkrulim was unable to melt the ore.

The Daemonsmith envisioned the power and riches to be had, could he only melt the ore to forge weapons and talismans, and thus he invested more and more in the rituals to appease Hashut. He ruined his household by sacrificing herds of bulls to Hashut, yet the iron ore did not melt. Then Arrazkrulim threw himself into the furnace out of despair, and the cursed ore finally melted. The slag was dumped outside the Tower of Gorgoth.

The forging of the iron proved tricky as well, for it would not yield to any force unless hardened in Orc blood, not water. The names of the Father of Darkness, His Sacred Consorts and scores of potent Daemons were invoked as the five sons of Arrazkrulim toiled to forge the metal into objects.

Eventually, after months of labour and arcane rites, the brothers emerged from their forge, each wielding a magic item that awed anyone who looked upon it. These objects were a flagon, a chain whip, a shield, a hammer and a tall hat, all shaped into terrifying and intricate forms. And the curse of Grimdur lay heavy upon them all.




The Flagon: To celebrate this great success of the craftsmen sons, the Sorcerer-Prophet Khaldrun Without Tounge hosted a grand feast in view of a mighty idol of Hashut. Ash-covered flesh from slave and monster alike was served at the banquet, sacrifices were held and man and maid alike praised both Hashut and the objects forged from the cursed ore.

By nightfall, thunder and lightning rocked the skies, and this was seen as a good omen for the feasting. It soon turned to revelry, and a drinking contest was arranged. The contestants heaved barrels of blood and beer, and kegs of still stranger brews, yet none could beat the youngest son of Arrazkrulim, Kharzyg the Red.

His thirst could not be sated when he drank from his magical beer cup. Wagonloads of barrels were emptied by Kharzyg, and the whole Tower of Gorgoth marvelled at the sight. Khaldrun Without Tounge declared through his acolytes that this great deed of drinking truly was a sign from Hashut foretelling the never-ending domination of all creation which the Chaos Dwarfs were destined for.

Yet the height of the feast was cut short as a large creature, dark as night, climbed the high walls of the Tower of Gorgoth and cast himself into the crowd, killing no less than four with his body weight alone. Dozens of Chaos Dwarfs were crushed as this monster set about smashing and kicking the garrison denizens into gory pulp.

This was a golem made out of the slag from the cursed ore. Realizing its nature and wishing to avert divine wrath upon themselves, four of the five sons of Arrazkrulim attacked the slag being. The oldest brother, adorned with his ensorcelled hat, barked orders to the others, and managed to lead them past the slag golem's swinging arms. The shieldbearer took the brunt of several strikes upon his shield whilst the whipbearer ensnared the creature, allowing for the hammerer to destroy their enemy with savage blows.

The victorious brothers claimed the slag as booty for their clan, to be used in nefarious crafts. Their triumph was short-lived, however, as the Sorcerer-Prophet Khaldrun Without Tounge deprived them of their prize by confiscating it for Hashut. At this, the youngest brother Kharzyg, who did not fight the slag creature, cursed Hashut under his breath.

Kharzyg the Red then took the flagon to his lips and began to drink again. Yet Hashut punished the young Chaos Dwarf through the cursed metal, and the beer cup drank Kharzyg dry, leaving nothing but desiccated bones inside a sack of skin. The flagon was duly claimed by Khaldrun, and thus ended the first of the five brothers.




The Whip: The second youngest son of Arrazkrulim Flamefist was the slavedriver Rukharg the Strong. His piece of the objects forged from the iron of the cursed ore was a magical chain whip. It shrieked like a Daemon when used, and the wearer could never tire.

Rukharg put this to good use, and became a renowned and feared taskmaster in all of the deep mines of Azgorh. He whipped countless slaves and the blood-sucking whip enforced vigorous toil from out of the most exhausted wretch, and the dead even rose again to return to work.

The chain whip grew all the more bloodthirsty the more it was used, and its desire to strike flesh only increased. Rukharg used this to the fullest extent, patrolling the mine shafts day and night to keep up the mining labour. Yet one day, his fame as a slavedriver made Sorcerer-Prophet Khaldrun Without Tounge set up an audience. High up in the Tower of Gorgoth, the humbled Rukharg was praised by the stony Sorcerer-Prophet, whose words were sign language relayed by the voice of an acolyte.

Rukharg was questioned at length about his whip, his work, his beliefs, his religious practices and his tireless devotion to duty. This went on for many hours, and Rukharg showed his lord all the proper respect whilst hiding under his cloak the impatiently writhing chain whip. Then, Khaldrun honoured Rukharg greatly by inviting him for the sacrifice of a subdued Ogre Tyrant, Murg. Naturally, there was no alternative but to accept.

The rituals began immediately, and through many hours of bloodshed and horror Rukharg attended it faithfully. Yet the whip became angry and agitated at being denied all the blood and suffering at the fire altar. At the height of the sacrifice, the whip lashed out from beneath Rukharg the Strong's cloak, struck itself around his throat and strangulated the taskmaster, who fell head-on into the flames and was burnt to cinders in the Ogre's fat.

The whip was duly claimed by Sorcerer-Prophet Khaldrun Without Tounge, and thus ended the second of the five brothers.




The Shield: The third son of Arrazkrulim Flamefist was Kulnikambul the Mad, he who received the shield from the crafted objects of the cursed ore. Through a whole year of omens in insane nightmares, he deducted that the ensorcelled shield made him invincible to Daemons. Unbelievably, he was right.

Kulnikambul armed himself, picked up his shield, and joined a group of grizzled Humans in the far north who were on a warrior pilgrimage to the northern Polar Gate of Chaos itself. A retinue of Hobgoblin household slaves followed him wherever he went, daring not to abandon their infamously vengeful master. Though the shield offered no invulnaribility to worldly and mortal threats, Kulnikambul the Mad and his companions managed to stave off the worst winter, the worst hunger, the worst tribes and the worst monsters who stood in their way.

Only a handful of Humans and Hobgoblins remained when they eventually made it to the great northern Polar Gate, situated in a landscape utterly corrupted by Chaos magic. Here, Kulnikambul did the unthinkable. Instead of sacrificing at this great monument to the Dark Gods, he charged headlong into the portal, followed by his unwilling Hobgoblin thralls. The Humans shouted curses, threw spears and spat after the desecrator, yet they could not stop him. No mortal threat would ever bother Kulnikambul again if his mad plan succeeded.

Daemons of every kind and size assailed him from all sides inside the Realm of Chaos, yet Kulnikambul's shield made him and his closely-following slaves invulnerable to their efforts. Soon, he attracted the attention of legendary Heralds and Greater Daemons, who challenged him yet could not harm Kulnikambul the Mad. Even they had to give up their efforts, though he only slew a few of them.

After a long time, only one Hobgoblin remained by Kulnikambul's side. The others had died of insanity and terror at the nightmarish Empyrean all around them. Eventually, the Daemon hosts halted their assaults on the lone Chaos Dwarf, and soon Daemons fled before him. Though there existed no guarantee for the shield's invulnerability against one of the Great Four, Kulnikambul was willing to risk everything to become the sole ruler of Chaos himself.

The shifting landscapes of the Realm of Chaos led him astray. Perhaps the machinations of Tzeentch lay behind this, because Kulnikambul the Mad finally came upon the fortress of Khorne the Blood God. Enraged Daemons tried to kill him from every angle, yet none could even reach him or his last Hobgoblin slave, Jerz Khan.

Kulnikambul marched through the titanic brass gates of Khorne's palace. In the gatehouse, he caught a glimpse of the great god of war seated upon his mountain of skulls amidst a sea of blood, and then he died. Jerz Khan's treacherous nature made him backstab his master, for the Hobgoblin wished for himself to be the bane of gods.

This was not to be. The cursed iron shield darted out from Kulnikambul the Mad's grasp, made a turn in the air and cut the Hobgoblin's head clean off his shoulders. The corpses of the two mortal intruders were torn to shreds by the army of Khornate Daemons, and the shield itself became a stud on one of Khorne's leather straps. Thus ended the third of the five brothers.




The Hammer: The second oldest of Arrazkrulim Flamefist's five sons was the Hellsmith Bharulik Anvilchest, a great craftsman whose item of the cursed iron ore was the hammer. The hammer of Bharulik was marvellous in the hands of a Daemonsmith. It could reshape any material and Daemon with ease as if they were clay, and the wearer never tired when wielding it.

The hammer could work any substance, whether solid, liquid, gaseous or magical. It was one of the prides of the Tower of Gorgoth, and with it Bharulik Anvilchest created wondrous and ensorcelled idols, warmachines, amulets and weapons, as well as armour and Daemonic monster constructs. Each one of these crafted pieces were treasured more highly than gold, and Bharulik turned out thousands of them in his Soulforge, where he worked day and night in the sight of Hashut's mighty idol.

Bharulik knew of the fates of his brothers, and resorted to avoid it. Wise from the wrath of the idle chain whip, he devoted every day of his whole life to Daemonsmithing, sacrificing and praising Hashut in his Soulforge without missing a beat with his hammer. He constantly quenched the metal's thirst in buckets of slave blood, for the Hellsmith knew of the other cursed items' bloodthirst, and his clan secured him a steady supply of victims to fill his workshop's cages.

Yet all these precautions was for nothing, for contrary to the whip, the hammer tired. After years of ceaseless toil it started wailing a horrific dirge out of exhaustion. This was interpreted as a favourable omen from Hashut, and Bharulik Anvilchest persevered. This wailing grew in strength, day by day.

When Bharulik was working on his masterpiece, a possessed Iron Daemon war engine of fearful power, the wailing turned into a vengeful roar. The hammer shaft snapped, and the loose hammer head flew through the air and pounded Bharulik, body and soul, into the Iron Daemon. The Hellsmith screamed in terror as the twisted hammer head forged him into his own creation. His frozen face and struggling limbs stood out like a relief from the Iron Daemon's hull.

Yet the hammer wished to escape any future toil, and so it dove into and merged with the machine. The Iron Daemon
Bharulik's Folly has been cursed ever since. It is feared by its own crew, yet it remains too powerful to be turned into scrap, left unrepaired or ignored for transport and war. Thus ended the fourth of the five brothers.



The Hat: The oldest of the five sons of Arrazkrulim Flamefist was the warrior Thuruk the Grey. He was a scarred veteran, and his part of the cursed iron ore's items was a magnificient, high hat. It was the sign of a great leader, and everyone showed Thuruk respect or even admiration. This was especially true for the Dawi Zharr womenfolk.

Thuruk's cursed hat granted its wearer a malicious intelligence and unnatural knowledge of the world. This was used to great effect, as Thuruk the Grey led his men to victory after victory. His warband grew into an army, and the slaves he captured numbered in the tens of thousands. The Greenskin hordes were defeated time and time again by the most daring tactics ever attempted by a Chaos Dwarf general. Every time, uncanny luck and insidious cunning seemed to carry the day.

However, wise after the death of his youngest brother in particular, Thuruk took care to show the Father of Darkness due respect and adulation. Even though his pride grew, he continued to sacrifice and humble himself before the idols, never once faltering in his devout practices. Thuruk believed that fortune and victory would never leave his side if he was true in his worship of the great Bull God.

And so it was, that after a bloodbath of a victory against the Orc Warboss Ghurzak Skullbasha, Thuruk the Grey arranged for a grand sacrificial feast to be held in honour of Hashut, the Temple, the priesthood and His mighty idols. At the height of this feast there was a devout speech held by the warlord. In it he attributed all his success to high Hashut, never once mentioning his hat.

The ensorcelled hat became enraged at this insolence, and devoured Thuruk the Grey from skull to heel before the altar flames. Thus ended the last of the five brothers.

Thereupon the tall hat was duly claimed by Sorcerer-Prophet Khaldrun Without Tounge, who confiscated no less than three of the five magical objects created by the sons of Arrazkrulim Flamefist. Khaldrun became fully petrified centuries ago, and the whereabouts of the artefacts forged from the cursed iron ore of Grimdur Gutwrencher remains a mystery.

One of many mysteries of the Chaos Dwarfs.
 
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