The following is a summary of The Orc Siege of Khundrukar, a homebrew adventure inspired by Tales From the Yawning Portal that took place on January 20, 2018, at The Dice Latte. It was set one hundred years before the events of The Forge of Fury when an army of orcs laid siege to the hidden stronghold of the dwarf smith Durgeddin Stonehammer.

The players had the option of taking on the role of either the orc invaders or the dwarven defenders of Khundrukar, and they chose the latter option. I’d like to thank Sarah (Logan), Bella (Eltesa), and Richard (Olaf) as well as their friend Liam for creating such a memorable story.

*Please be advised that there are minor spoilers to The Forge of Fury in this summary.

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High upon the cliffs of the Stone Tooth, the orc warlords of the Many Arrows tribe had set their camp. From his vantage point, King Obould Many Arrows surveyed the land. Beside him there stood a towering contraption made of wooden beams, crude pulleys, and moth-eaten canvas. In the valley below, his mighty orc horde had ravaged across the land from the west until they had arrived, at long last, upon the great Mountain Door of Khundrukar. This was the entrance to the hidden redoubt of the orcs’ most hated enemy, Durgeddin Stonehammer, known to the orcs as Durgeddin the Black, the Maker of Death.

For years, Durgeddin had produced deadly weapons of unsurpassed skill that had slain many orcs in the North. Now, the orcs had finally discovered the location of Durgeddin’s hidden forge and citadel, and they had a chance to take revenge upon the Maker of Death. For King Obould, it was also an opportunity to unite the scattered orc tribes of the North under a single banner, and to arm his forces with the most finely crafted blades in the North.

King Obould made a sign to his underlings, and the strange wooden contraption began to move and change shape as its attendants turned the wheels and tugged at the pulleys. Seen from afar, the device gave the signal for the orcs in the west to begin their siege of the Mountain Door. The siege would last for several months, but it was only a diversion. A second smaller force would creep up from the east and dig tunnels under the mountain. It was only a matter of time before Durgeddin and his entire clan would be crush by the orcs as between hammer and anvil.

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From the town of Blasingdell, the closest settlement to the Stone Tooth, three companions had set out for the hidden halls of Khundrukar. They were Logan Bookbeard, a mountain dwarf bard and sage; Olaf Ironguardson, a mountain dwarf soldier; and Eltesa, a wood elf ranger.

Logan and Olaf were clansmen of Durgeddin the Black who had departed long ago. Logan had been an apprentice sage to the Keeper of Lore in Khundrukar. He had only read about the outside world in moldy tomes and wanted to see the realms beyond his homeland with his own eyes. Olaf was a simple dwarf in search of daring adventures and hardy ale beside the hearth. On their journeys, they had met Eltesa who alone among her elven kin had taken a liking to dwarves and joined them on their quests.

Now, Logan and Olaf had heard that their home and their clansmen were in grave danger. Logan feared for his clansmen and the precious lore kept in Khundrukar’s library. Olaf was worried about the loss of Khundrukar’s legendary ale, not to mention his personal breaddresser, Liam, whose skill at beardstyling was irreplaceable. They decided to return to their homeland after their long absence in the hopes of saving their people. Eltesa went with them, for her own folk hated the orcs and she much desired a chance to hunt her mortal enemies.

They had come to the town of Blasingdell in search of news about their home. Upon hearing that a great host of orcs had arrived at the Stone Tooth, they left in haste to seek out their clansmen beneath the mountain. They traveled for three days until they arrived at the sparsely wooded hills of their youth beneath the shadow of the tall mountain. However, it had been many years since Logan and Olaf had left Khundrukar. Now that they were here again, they could not recall the location of the secret entrance to the hidden halls. While the dwarves searched for a way inside, Eltesa kept a wary watch upon the woods and the nearby road.

Eltesa was the first to see the orcs marching up the hill and warned her two companions. They hid in the woods and saw a company of orcs marching loudly up the road, carrying crude picks and shovels. The companions waited until the orcs were gone, but then they spotted two stragglers in the distance. These orcs were dragging their digging implements behind them and loudly complaining of their lot in life.

“I’m telling ya, Skala, King Obould has got it in fer me. Otherwise, why would he give me such a crummy job, digging holes with the likes of you!”

“Agh, quit yer jabbering, Skrum. If King Obould catches wind of it, you’ll be lucky if he only crams that shovel down yer jabberhole.”

Eltesa silently drew an arrow from her quiver, nocked it on her bow, and loosed. The arrow flew and struck one of the orcs in the eye. The orc stared for a moment at the green-feathered arrow lodged it his skull before collapsing to the ground.

“Don’t give me that lip o’ yers, Skala. I’m in no mood fer it… Did you hear me, Skala?”

The remaining orc turned around and saw the other dead on the ground with an arrow in his eye. He whirled around just in time to see a pair of dwarves descending upon him.

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When Skrum awoke, he had a splitting headache and could taste blood in his mouth. He was also tied to a tree. He tested the knots, but they were strong and would not yield. In front of him, he saw two dwarves and an elf. They seemed to be discussing whether to kill him or keep him alive.

“He’s awake,” said Olaf, pointing to their captive.

“All the more reason to kill him and be done with it.” said Eltesa, glancing at the orc with grim purpose.

“The only good orc is a dead orc.”

“He could provide us with valuable information,” Logan insisted.

“That I can,” Skrum agreed.

The companions turned to look at the orc bound to the tree. Logan approached him.

“If we let you live, will you help us and not betray us?”

“I swear on my honor, master dwarf,” said Skrum, smirking slyly.

“I don’t trust him,” said Eltesa.

“But what choice do we have,” Logan replied. “We must find out what the orcs are up to.”

The companions agreed to keep Skrum alive, at least for the time being. Skrum, for his part, told them what he knew of the orcs’ battle plans. King Obould was leading the siege from the top of the Stone Tooth. He was using a wooden contraption to send signals to his armies across a great distance. The main host of the orcs came from the west and laid siege to the Mountain Door, which was heavily fortified and well defended. While the dwarves were occupied by the western siege, a second host was digging tunnels in the east. It was only a matter of time before the orcs broke through. Then, King Obould would give the final signal, commanding the orc horde to attack with their full strength and flood into the halls of Khundrukar.

Logan, Olaf and Eltesa could not let this happen. They had to warn their dwarven clansmen and giving them a chance to escape. But how could they do this when the orcs were already near the final stage of their plans? They decided that their  best course of action was to first destroy the signal tower. That might buy some time for the dwarves to organize an evacuation of Khundrukar.

 

The three companions climbed up to the top of the Stone Tooth. There they saw the war camp of King Obould and the leaders of the Many Arrows tribe. In the valley, they also saw a thin wisp of smoke rising from the ground in the distance. It was then that Logan remembered that the kitchen chamber of Khundrukar had a long, narrow chimney which led to the surface. As a boy, he used to climb up and peek at the light of the outside world. He wondered if he could still fit through that narrow passage now that he was a grown dwarf.

The heroes knew that attacking the orc war camp or being caught would mean their certain doom. They waited until nightfall, taking care to stay well hidden from the eyes of sentinels and patrols. Eventually, they saw that some of the sentinels guarding the signal tower seemed to be growing weary of their watch. Under the cover of darkness, Eltesa climbed up a tree near the signal tower. From her high position, she threw rocks to create a diversion. Then she sat waiting with her bow in hand, waiting for the orcs to take the bait.

One of the sentinels did indeed approach her, leaving his post unguarded so that Olaf and Logan could sneak closer to the tower. But from the war camp, an orc shaman also emerged to investigate the noise. He had only a single eye, for the other had been plucked out in a gruesome ritual and sacrificed to a terrible orc god. The shaman drew closer to Eltesa, who drew an arrow from her quiver. She knew that she would be no match for such a powerful foe, but she was ready to lay down her life to take vengeance upon these orcs.

Logan, seeing that his elven companion was in danger, created another diversion with his dwarven magic. An illusory fire began to burn silently in the boughs of the trees near the signal tower. The remaining sentries grew alarmed and tried to put out the flames by throwing dirt upon it, but they found that their efforts had no effect. In fact, the flames seemed to be growing out of control. The sentinels alerted the rest of the camp. In the ensuing confusion, Olaf snuck up to the signal tower and set a real fire with a torch from a nearby brazier. The signal tower was soon ablaze. The orc shaman was startled by the cries of the other orcs. Forgetting all else, he rushed to the burning signal tower, giving Eltesa a chance to escape.

Eltesa quickly withdrew and regrouped with her companions. They looked on from afar as the signal tower burned in the night. However, their joy was overshadowed by concern when they discovered that their captive orc was no longer bound to the tree where they had left him. He had somehow cut himself loose and escaped while they were away. But they had no time to worry about him now. They needed to warn the dwarves of Khundrukar of the coming assault before it was too late.

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The companions made their way to the source of the wisp of smoke that they had seen earlier. They discovered the old chimney, and to their good fortune they found that could squeeze through the narrow passage. They climbed down into the depths of the earth, until at last Olaf and Logan saw a familiar sight. It was the kitchen chamber of their home in the hidden citadel of Khundrukar.

The kitchen was empty but for a collection of pots, pans, and cooking supplies that lined the walls. Then, a startled dwarf entered the room. It was the head chef of the citadel, and he recognized Olaf and Logan immediately, though Logan they had grown since he had left the citadel. But when the chef saw Eltesa, his eyes grew narrow and suspicious.

“What is that elf doing here?” he asked.

“She is Eltesa, our companion,” Logan answered. “She braved many dangers and risked her life to help the dwarves of Khundrukar.”

Then Logan and Olaf told him of their deeds at the Stone Tooth and how Eltesa had drawn away the orc sentinels so that the dwarves could set fire to the signal tower. The chef was amazed at their tale, but he grew alarmed at the mention of orc digging tunnels to reach their hidden stronghold. He took them at once to meet with their master, Durgeddin Stonehammer.

“Our lord Durgeddin must be told of this,” said the chef.

The chef led the three companions through the halls of Khundrukar. It was much as Logan and Olaf had remembered, but there were fewer people now. Many had perished in the orc siege, and a few had fled before the orc horde had tightened its grip upon the valley. But Durgeddin remained, and the most loyal among his smiths had stayed by his side. The companions saw one of the old smiths now, passing through the halls with his tools in hand. But strangely enough, he was not headed to the forge. Instead, he was entering the catacombs where the dead of Khundrukar were buried.

“Where is the smith going, Master Chef?” Logan asked.

“He goes to finish carving his own sarcophagus, young master,” the chef replied.

“Alas, the men and elves of the North have abandoned us in our hour of need. The smith lords of Khundrukar sense that our doom is near.”

The companions heard the dwarf smith singing a sad lament as he chiseled his name into his sarcophagus in the catacombs.

Where are the spears of the horselords,
And their tall banners streaming?
Where are the blades of the elflords
And their sharp warhorns singing?
Where are the shields of the marches
Upon which our oaths were taken?
They hang upon dusty arches,
Their solemn duty forsaken.

Now none remain to guard the dwarfhold
From the hands of plunder.
And none remain to bear the stonelord
To his eternal slumber
No more will the song of the hammer
Be heard in the forge everburning.
The light of the dying ember
Fades in the hall of mourning.

Eltesa gripped her bow tightly and spoke aloud, her voice echoing through the dark halls of the citadel.

“Not all the elves have forgotten their oaths. On the honor of my people, I shall not abandon my friends and their kinsmen in their hour of need.”

At last, the heroes arrived at the shrine of Moradin, the greatest among the dwarven gods. The chef led them inside, and there they found Moraddin at the foot of the altar, deep in prayer. Logan had always remembered the Lord of Khundrukar as being a grim and stoic dwarf, his brow furled in a permanent scowl. Durgeddin was terrible to behold in his wrath but always fair and evenhanded in his judgment. Now, it seemed to Logan that the smith lord had aged exceedingly in the time that Logan had been away. His forehead was lined with worry, and the grey hair and beard upon his face were tangled like an old lion’s mane. Still, there was an aura of strength that surrounded the old dwarf whom the orcs called the Maker of Death, like a cloud darkening with the rumor of a coming storm.

The dwarves hailed their lord, and they introduced Eltesa, making sure to mention all she had done to sabotage the orcs. Then they warned Durgeddin of the coming assault of the orc horde, but Durgeddin was filled with a grim determination to face the invaders with his sword and hammer in hand. The heroes beseeched him to reconsider, but Durgeddin could not be swayed by their words.

“What about the young ones, my lord,” said Logan.

“You and the other smith lords have lived full lives, but the children of Khundrukar have not had a chance to truly live. Should they not be given an opportunity to fulfill their own destinies?”

At this remark, Durgeddin paused and looked thoughtful. Then at last, he spoke.

“Those who are too young or injured to fight may pass through the secret tunnels beneath Khundrukar. You may lead them through those passages, but be warned that they have not been full wrought before the orcs descended upon the valley. I know not what dangers lie within. It may be that you will find worse evils there than mere orcs. Still, it is an uncertain fate that you seek in place of certain doom if you remain.”

“Come with us, Lord Durgeddin,” Eltesa insisted.

“You can do more for your people if you live and take revenge upon the orcs.”

“I have made my decision,” answered Durgeddin. “And I have made my peace with the gods. My ancestors wait for me now in the halls of our fathers. Go now and rest, for soon you must depart and lead the last of my people to safety.”

Logan, Olaf, and Eltesa rested for a while in the halls of Khundrukar. But Logan could not sleep. Instead, he wandered the halls until he found himself before the library where he had spent so much of his youth. The keeper of lore had perished in a foray against the orcs. Since then, the library had been untended and had fallen into disarray. Logan looked at the old, moldy tomes that were piled haphazardly upon the floor. He began organizing them and replacing them upon the shelves. He knew that his efforts were in vain, but he did it anyway, perhaps out of habit. However, there was one book that he kept for himself and placed in his bag. It was a record of Khundrukar’s history that had been written by the lorekeepers of the Stonehammer Clan. Though he could not carry all of these precious books with him, this one tome he would carry to safety so that the memory of Khundrukar and its people would not be lost.

Logan retired to his chamber and lied down in an attempt to sleep, but no sooner had he closed his eyes than bells sounded through the halls and a great cry went up through the whole citadel.

“The orcs are coming! They have tunneled through the earth! Dwarves of Khundrukar, defend yourselves!”

Durgeddin and his smith lords marched through the halls, marshaling what strength remained among their weary people. The last of the dwarven defenders rose up with their arms, ready to defend their home to their final breath. In the confusion, Durgeddin found Olaf, Logan, and Eltesa and bade them farewell.

“Go now, my friends, and save yourselves. Save my people, the last dwarves of Khundrukar, so that our memory and our tales will not be forgotten.”

The companions turned away from Durgeddin with tears in their eyes. They led a company of a hundred dwarves, mainly small children and the wounded along with a few stout dwarves to defend them from the dangers beneath the earth. The refugees passed through winding passages and faced dangers of which many of them would not speak in after days. For in the bowels of the earth, they found the foundations of the Stone Tooth and ancient evils that had slumbered for long centuries before ever a dwarf had set foot upon this land. But with their courage and strength at arms, Olaf, Logan, and Eltesa, joined by Logan’s irreplaceable beard dresser Liam, led the dwarven company to safety.

After a long and terrifying journey, they arrived at the surface and found themselves many miles distant from the Stone Tooth. They could not hear or perceive any hint of the battle that raged beneath the earth, but they knew surely that their home was lost. In silent lamentation they marched for three days until they arrived at last in the nearby town of Blasingdell. There, the townspeople looked upon them in amazement and greeted the last dwarves of Khundrukar.

That night, the dwarven refugees gathered around a great bonfire and recounted the heroic deeds of their fallen friends during the siege. They sang in sorrowful voices of the loss of their lord and master, Durgeddin the Black, who even in that moment was fighting on alone in the shrine of his citadel.

Durgeddin was the last to fall among the dwarven defenders, fighting with a terrible fury until his final moments. Standing over a mound of his fallen enemies and bleeding from many wounds, his life gave out in utter exhaustion and he breathed a deep mournful sigh as his spirit left him. But even as his eyes grew dark and his body grew cold as stone, his hands still held the sword and hammer that he had forged, and no orc earned the glory of dealing the final blow to their most hated adversary. Instead, fearing the spirit of the dwarf lord even in death, the orcs cursed him and placed evil runes upon his shrine. Then they closed the entrance to the shrine and placed a warning upon it so that none should enter and disturb the ghost of Durgeddin the Black.

“Here the Maker of Death is chained. May he gnaw on his own hate until the sun dies and all things end.”

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Epilogue

After Skrum had escaped from the foul dwarves and the wicked elf, he rejoined the orcs and reported what had happened to him, being careful not to mention his own part in leading a company of saboteurs to their war camp upon the Stone Tooth. Skrum went on to take part in the vanguard of the orc assault in the tunnels and made a name for himself as a mighty dwarf slayer. He was even honored by the great King Obould himself and found a place in the orc king’s inner circle.

“Ahh, this is the life,” said Skrum, sighing happily as he laid down on a bed of stolen furs in his well-furnished tent. “King Obould has got big plans for me, that he does.”

That was last thought that passed through Skrum’s head before the tip of an arrow with green feathers was pressed against his temple. Emerging from the shadows of the tent, Eltesa whispered,

“The only good orc is a dead orc.”

 

The End