It was a day like any other, or it was supposed to be, at least. She woke up that morning to the sound of the warhorns. A band of green skins had been spotted, a local warlord having rallied them. The creatures were a rather unfortunate novelty, for the already hostile lands of the dwarves.

The Ancestor Gods, swill walking the lands, were already busy dealing with the uncivilized beastmen, and the fiendish, one-eyed reptiles that continued to attack us from the North.

Daemons continue to come forth, without rhyme or reason, and in all of this chaos, yet another menace comes out of the woodwork. She has a hearty breakfast, and stocks up on many kinds of hales.

She's not going to be the plaitling caught dead without ale on her lips. Still, her station has duties tied to it. She, being the daughter of a notable Thane, has to fight. Thankfully, it is her very same mother who reminds her to do so, coming to personally collect her soon after breakfast.

So, here she is, marching off to war. Already, the sounds of warsongs echo off the caverns under the Hold. The creatures had breached into the Underway from up above, the web of underground roads of fine dwarven craftsmanship that connects all holds to one another.

It would not do, to let the fiends infest their section of it, and any kind of Waaagh is better stomped out early. They grow and grow like a Drakk. Leave them but a few decades, and they'll devour you whole.

No dwarven Hold worthy of its name has been taken by them yet, and it won't be her own that gains that shameful title. She has her trusty Axe, a gift from her own kin, strapped to her back. The weapon is a real beauty, a set of three runes inscribed into it. It is worth more than the house she lives in, and yet it is nothing for her mother.

They both march off, under the King's banner, as commanders of the right and west wing of the army. Such a pompous and prestigious work has been awarded to her because of the awkward timing that has been chosen. Three other, much more respectable and elder Thanes have come down with a sickness, and are under the Valayan's care. The priestesses did do what they could, but their healing droughts weren't enough to get the valiant warriors back on their feet.

Many a longbeard, the respectable elders that make up the frontlines of this army, grumble openly and chaf at her rule but accept it nonetheless. The King himself appointed her, and as such they abide by his will.

The fight begins in earnest. There is no tactic to uphold, and if there was, it would be her mother who directs it. She understands she's nothing more than a mouthpiece for her kin, and is fine with that. She's here to learn and to get her name out. Grudge throwers angrily spit out rocks, volley after volley crushing the green tide into a paste, as the creatures charge onward heedless of their losses.

Quarreles begin to shoot, and their bolts meeting their targets marks the last few dozens of meters separating them. Now, the army steps up. The Underway is narrow here, this point having been chosen to funnel their enemies into a single place, for dwarven steel and gromril to hold them back.

So it is with wild abandon that she begins to crush the enemy's lines. Foe after foe, boar-riding greenskin after the other, even a few giants throw themselves at the stout line, yet none manage to push through. On the right flank, it is as if a living wall came to life. Shields pile on shields, as the enemies are felled by bolts, arrows, and the war machines' rocks.

On the left side, everything has fallen into a wild melee. There, dwarven arms meet and break the orks' own, as the fight is the bloodiest on both sides. And it is there, that the young Thane is struck by a giant's club. She was riding on a Troll's shoulders, hands gripping her axe, as she was jumping from one to the next, cutting off their heads, when the gigantic creature noticed her, and decided to launch her, using its weapon as a bat.

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She flies off into the darkness of the tunnels, crushing and tumbling downhill into the darkness, dragging herself along with the troll she was launched from.

Her path was one of misfortune, and it would seem the Ancestor Gods were too busy to guard her, as she eventually fell off an underground bridge, into a river below.

Barely managing to not drown, or lose her grip on her weapon, she uses the troll as a boat, trying to guide its body towards an opening. Days go by before she manages to land somewhere safely. It is into an empty clearing, a natural cavern.

The moment she reaches dry land, her body collapses, and she uses her weapon as a walking stick to prop herself up. She does not want to kneel or make too much noise. No more than her gasping for air has already m, made, at any rate.

All of a sudden, she is hit behind the head by something, and thrown into a wall. Much like the giant did, this one also sends her flying, and she lands with her side encased into the wall. She barely manages to turn and spot her weapon, thrown in a different direction and sinking into the stone wall, before realizing it was the very same Troll she had been riding on.

Then, she feebly tries to gulp down one of her healing brews, but her endurance fails her, and darkness overcomes her vision. Irrational fear fills her mind, as she realizes something terrible. This isn't any troll. This is a Hag. And it has been toying with her mind, her emotions, to attempt and have her pass out.

The crude spellcaster was able to force her mind into dumbness through her foul magiks, possibly keeping casting the spell for the days they spent on the river.

And it has worked.

Shortly after, she unexpectedly comes to. Did the Hag spare her, she curiously wonders as her tired eyes barely manage to force themselves open. No, as it turns out. Instead, she feels her body even wetter than before. The green brew, her saving grace, had been opened and reversed on her body.

And before her, stands a creature the likes of which she had never seen before. It is a moving, walking crystal, with a vaguely humanoid shape. It has a somewhat circular head, some girlish features yet nothing too definitive, and two dainty little legs that her mind tells her shouldn't be able to hold it up. It does have green eyes, but they are completely made of crystal.

Its flesh, if that is even an accurate term, seems to be emitting a little light in the darkness of the tunnels. It seems to face her, two of its appendages acting as hands, as it brings one to its mouth-

How does this thing have a tongue? And why is it also green?

Oh, it finds the drought disgusting. She's somehow glad she's not the only one. To think she'd be saved by... this odd-looking thing, dispersed in the depths of the Underways. Why, if it were a young man, it'd be a tale for the ages, akin to the ones their ancestors are famous for.

And instead of a charming prince, she gets rescued by a green gem with legs. This makes her laugh long, and hard. Then, her eyes focus on what is behind the now pouting oddity. The Hag, lying down, with a visible dunting in her head.

Did this cutesy-looking thing perhaps do that? Either way, she could see the beast already starting to recover, and once more preparing to cast her damnable spells. She quickly pushes herself off the wall, crushing the glass shards beneath her foot. Oh, so that's where the glass bottle went. She grabs her Axe and lops the head off the damnable thing.

Then, she turns to her rescuer and finds her facing the creature. It turns on its side, and she recognizes its motion with the few times she's seen a dwarf unable to hold their alcohol. Is it trying to barf? How can it do so, when it's made of crystal?

Despite this, it sinks to the ground, now staying on all fours. From a particular part of it, something that was in the middle of its body, and had escaped her sight before, came spouting out an amethyst gas, the thing barely visible to her eyes before dissipating in the air.

From her mouth, where her tongue had come out of before, now surges... rainbows? They flow on the stone floor, before also dissipating, seemingly coming undone after a while.

She rushes to her side, gently batting her back before the thing lays down, and remains unresponsive to her prodding. Well, that could be a problem.

The young Thane has no idea what this thing is, but it has saved her life. Oaths have been made for much less, and a Dwarf never goes back on their Oaths. Never. There is now a debt, for her to repay the creaute. She only hopes for the thing to have a mind.

She has never been too good at taking care of pets, after all.