Ashen Dragon

In the end, the Dwarf King raised the warhammer in his hand high, his eyes erupting with the fury of the mountains, and let out a thunderous battle cry: "For Aivendel!"

"For Aivendel!"

"By Father God Moradin above, fight for the Shield Dwarves, fight for Aivendel!"

The dwarves raised their warhammers and great axes in unison, releasing deafening shouts, as heavy as the rumbling of mountains and rivers.

Meanwhile, the Imperial Army cheered for the Ashen Empire and their Emperor, and advanced rapidly toward Aivendel.

One side was the invaded, the other the invaders, and the opposing forces of this soon-to-commence war seemed to achieve an odd resonance at this moment.

...

"Quick, deploy all the defenses; let those arrogant Evil Dragon Kin pay the price!"

"Everyone, are the ballistae properly installed?"

"Who moved the stones from this side of the fortifications? Who? Some mongrel raised by orcs!"

"..."

The Dwarf Warriors were gathered in the southern area of Aivendel, bustling about constructing fortifications and setting up defensive machinery, working tirelessly and fervently.

For thousands of years, their greatest threat had always come from the green-skin orcs of the North, so most of their defensive setups were concentrated on the northern side. Over time, unlike the frequently repaired and reinforced northern wall, the defenses on the southern wall became much weaker.

Fortunately, Aivendel was built against the mountains, naturally endowed with a terrain advantage that made it easy to defend and hard to attack.

Just like the North, the southern approach had to first pass through a narrow valley before reaching the true walls of Aivendel.

Most invaders were stopped outside that stretch of the "Road of Glory," unable even to breach Aivendel's outskirts, let alone capture this impregnable fortress.

The dwarves were busy, but suddenly noises from the plains outside reached their ears—a heavy rumbling, roaring, and countless chaotic sounds.

"What is that commotion?"

"Quick, take a look over there!"

"What? Don't bother me; I'm racking my brains figuring out how to mount this catapult." The senior dwarf Kode, deeply engrossed in designing mechanisms, impatiently protested after being tapped on the shoulder.

As a Master Craftsman renowned far and wide, Kode shouldered heavy responsibilities, overseeing large portions of the city's defenses.

But the other dwarf didn't relent, his tone growing increasingly alarmed and awestruck: "That's... the Ashen Empire's army? Those are the Evil Dragon Kin?"

Seeing his companions' reactions, Kode finally realized something serious was unfolding.

Curious, he glanced outwards—and his jaw dropped as he witnessed an unforgettable sight: across the ground, enormous steel behemoths roared as they advanced, kicking up plumes of dust.

Meanwhile, in the skies above, wyverns beat their wings, so densely packed they appeared to blot out half the sky, casting mottled shadows upon the earth.

"By Father God Moradin above, what kind of army is this!" Kode couldn't help shouting in astonishment.

"Moradin above!"

"Gods, what—what in the world is this? Are these really our enemies?"

The dwarves within the southern Road of Glory stared in disbelief at the unstoppable wave of the Imperial Army, their bearded faces rarely showing expressions of shock and fear.

"No, don't worry! Our dwarven equipment is unmatched in the world!" Kode forcefully tried to appear composed, barely managing to console his companions.

"Yes, yes! No matter what these things are, if they enter this Road of Glory, our cunning traps will destroy them!"

"They could never capture Aivendel!"

These dwarves, secluded in the mountains for years, had little contact with the outside world and were unaware of the formidable changes the Imperial military industry had brought to the world.

But soon, they would pay a bloody price to comprehend it all.

Steam tanks gathered at the entrance of the valley, like undulating mountains sealing off the pass. The southern "Road of Glory" was narrow, allowing no more than two tanks to pass side by side.

But for the Imperial troops—this was sufficient.

Derol stood atop the "Emperor's Furious Wrath" tank, holding a loudspeaker and shouting toward Aivendel: "Dwarves, you'd best be sensible and surrender to the Empire early."

"If you capitulate before the battle even begins, His Majesty Cassius, the great Ashen Emperor, might yet spare your lives and lead you to a bright future..."

The Earth Goblin General's attempt at persuasion was half-hearted; though he spoke so, deep down, he sincerely hoped the High Mountain Kingdom's dwarves would resist.

After all, conquering enemies and collecting prisoners were fundamentally different feats—the former was the pride of the Empire, while the latter a task any fool could accomplish.

Although reluctant, Derol continued to read the script provided by the Imperial Council: "The Ashen Empire's visit to Aivendel this time is primarily to uphold justice and fairness across Fianso Continent, to protect the dwarves here, and to completely eliminate the orcs from the North..."

Yes, protect.

Days ago, the Ashen Empire had formally issued a declaration of war against the High Mountain Dwarf Kingdom, claiming the kingdom was no longer capable of holding back the Northern orcs.

Now, the Empire, with its greater strength, needed to station itself in Aivendel for the sake of bringing true peace to the continent and preventing the orcs' southern invasions.

The official message was crafted with grandiose pretenses, causing outraged protests from many dwarf ministers who railed against the notion of being treated like fools. Clearly, those damned Evil Dragons were after their treasures!

Unbeknownst to them, in Cassius's mind, the destruction of the High Mountain Dwarf Kingdom was merely incidental—his primary enemy remained the green-skin orcs.

"Silence!"

A deafening roar echoed through the valley, and from the steep cliff face emerged the colossal visage of a dwarf.

From a distance of thousands of feet away, Ed placed his hand upon the rock wall, his entire body radiating an earthen glow. He synchronized his spirit and body with Black Stone Mountain, borrowing the force of the mountains to project his voice.

At this moment, the Dwarf King was visibly enraged, his hair and beard bristling in fury, clearly incensed by the blatant provocation of the Ashen Empire.

"Damnable Evil Dragon Kin, cease your shameless ploys! These words don't even qualify as deceit—they merely amuse me!"

"Hear me now: Aivendel will never yield! The High Mountain Dwarf Kingdom will never yield! The mighty Shield Dwarf clan will never submit!"

Ed's earth-shaking voice bolstered the morale of the dwarves, leading them to cheer in resounding support. This was their king—a true child of the mountains!

"For the Master of High Mountains!"

"The Shield Dwarves will never surrender!"

Faced with such a scene, Derol grinned maliciously, nodding in satisfaction as he drew the military blade at his waist and pointed toward Aivendel in the distance.

"In that case, citizens of the Empire—destroy them!"

The Stone Fire Technique produced an acrid, surging smoke, a peculiar metallic stench of earth, and dealt (per round) 2d6 points of flame and heat damage to creatures within a 10-foot radius.

Creatures especially susceptible to flame damage might suffer up to double the damage. Stone creatures would take 4d4 points of damage in the first round and continue taking the same amount each round until a successful saving throw against the spell was made. Saving throws could be made once per round. Fire-resistant creatures exposed to the Stone Fire Technique would take minimal damage—approximately 1d2 points. (Even they would suffer some damage due to the corrosive effects of the flame.) Stones burned by the spell would vanish permanently.

If stone constructions (such as columns) or critical natural formations such as stone walls, ceilings, or load-bearing floors were burned, collapses and cave-ins might occur. The collapse effects are detailed in the descriptions of Stonefall Technique under the Dumathoin entry. Falling debris would cause equivalent harm, plus additional fall damage to creatures and objects it impacts (including saving throws for items). Even with extended exposure, this spell cannot be precisely controlled; it is unsuitable for engraving or decorative purposes. The spellcaster can affect one cubic foot of stone per level—a man-sized statue might represent roughly 12 cubic feet.