A small army comprised of Adventurers and mercenaries gathered outside the massive gates that separated the last remaining underground stronghold of the Dwarves from the surface. As the people milled about, a hush quickly spread over them as they began to turn their heads one by one to see the 15,000 strong force that walked up to them.

These newcomers had decent equipment fit for a D Rank Adventurer, but there was something off about their attire and weapons. It was almost like the equipment they wore was too normal, as though it was a façade that hid the true nature of what the newcomers had on their person. What made things even more bizarre was the fact that they all had a single signet ring on their right pinky finger, one that had a red gemstone that was surprisingly mundane in appearance. By any logical and sane reasoning, the ring would be seen as exorbitantly expensive in value, yet the ring itself just looked cheap for some reason, just like their wearer’s belongings.

The newcomers had all manner of various equipment and were from every one of the four Races. There were Dwarves, Elves, Humans and Werean of every variety, skin color, gender, height, age and more. They all looked remarkably shabby and worse for wear, but somehow that just did not sit right with the Adventurers and mercenaries.

The newcomers began to spread themselves out amongst the people who had already gathered and struck up conversations and generally tried to make themselves fit in. Some of them even went so far as to offer their services to lone Adventurers as ‘free support’ and ‘extra backup’. Oddly enough, no one was able to find a reason to turn down their offers and eventually the 15,000 newcomers were spread out among the Adventurers and Mercenaries after promising to let the rest of their new group have their share of the reward.

By all rights, no one should have been willing to accept such a deal. It was too good to be true, which usually mean that it was. But these people were just so gosh darn persuasive that even the S Rank Adventurers accepted their offers.

The Red Mountain Bandit Elites had successfully charmed their way into a good position. Now they just needed to wait for the right moment to plunge their daggers into the heart of their foe.

…

The gates that kept the improvised army out finally opened and the motley band of personages descended into the last surviving Dwarven Fortress-City. Over the past few weeks the Merchants, Bankers and other Economic Powerhouses that still had ties to the remaining thirty-six undercities had managed to dissolve the independence of the multiple cities and formed a single super city in its stead. Nothing had changed geography-wise, it was more of a name and identity change than anything else.

The more than 20,000 strong force that descended into the last Dwarven stronghold was passed by a seemingly endless parade of Dwarves carrying their belongings on carts and pack animals, all of them fleeing the area that the makeshift army was going to fight for.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

This statement was said over and over as the expedition followed the passage into the city. When they finally reached their destination, they marveled at the exquisite architecture and decorations that were on full display. Truly, the wealth of the world flowed from and into the Dwarven Under Kingdoms. The mob of various races were escorted to a section of the doodle-like walls that connected the thirty-six formerly independent cities, and as they got to their posts they realized how fucked they were.

The first thing that hit them was the stench. It was a horrible mix of animal odors, raw sewage, festering waste, decaying meat and much, much more. Those not accustomed to horrible smells immediately either threw up or passed out due the infernal stink that hung in the air. Those that endured looked over the edge to see what in the name of the Gods was making such a wretched smell.

They saw a floor that seemed to continuously undulate and change.

Upon closer inspection, the floor was covered in hair.

Even closer inspection revealed that the were not looking at the floor of the caves, but at a writhing mass of rats that were the size of Dwarves.

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“By the Gods… We need to get out of here!”

The realization that the writhing mass of bodies stretched out farther than the eye could see was the impetus. As soon as those words were said, all hell broke loose.

The sound of bells both large and small echoed through the darkness. The ominous noise carried over the mega city like a banshee’s wail, announcing that the end had come. Lights in the distance drew closer and revealed themselves to be large bolts of emerald lightning that crashed against the walls gouged out holes in their edifice.

Barrels filled with horribly corrosive gunk impacted the walls and let their contents ooze down the sides, eating away the magnificent stonework and leaving the ramparts weakened even further.

As the artillery fire continued, a rumble announced the imminent collapse of several dozen sections of the squiggly wall as the undermined sections well down and into even more barrels of the terrible substances launched by the catapults.

As if that was not enough, thousands of ladders docked onto the walls just as the shock of the prior events wore off. There were too few defenders to man every section, and the vermin scurried up and began to take the unguarded and mostly unguarded parts with ease.

The hired ‘army’ realized that the situation was hopeless and tried to flee, but their path was blocked by an unexpected foe. The people with the signet rings had withdrawn ahead of time to ‘protect the civilians’, but as the fleeing Adventurers and mercenaries reached their fallback line, they were horrified to see the people who they thought had their backs standing side-by-side with the very same monsters that were attacking.

“Red Mountain sends its regards!” shouted one of the traitors as the mass of rat-people and Red Mountain Bandits descended on the unprepared Adventurers and mercenaries.

As the fighting commenced, the city continued to be overrun. The forces of ‘good’ began to be flanked by the ever-growing numbers of angry rat-men, all while the damned Race Traitors kept them from being able to escape.

“You are a Dwarf! Why do you side with these things?!”

“I am a Red Mountain Bandit first, a Dwarf second. Besides, you people fucked up big time and made the Boss damn mad. We know the sins you committed, so don’t bother trying to lecture us on morality. You took something that should never have been taken, so now you will have to pay for it with your lives!”

“What the hell are you talking about?! What did we take?!”

The Red Mountain Dwarf sliced his opponent’s throat open with a backhanded dagger slice.

“If you don’t know then that’s too fucking bad. But don’t worry, your wife won’t be a widow for long and after that your kids won’t be orphans for long either! The Rattan are gonna feast tonight and Red Mountain is gonna party hard once this place is reduced to ruins, heh heh heh!”

The Rattan swarmed through the undercity and on every corner of every street scenes one could easily call ‘Grimdark’ could be seen. It only took a day and a half for the last city of the Dwarves to be all but taken. The only survivors of the tragedy that took place there being the 15,000 people with signet rings. No one questioned why they alone managed to survive. These people just seemed to be too mundane to ask questions about.

…

The Dwarves that managed to make it to the surface were now without a home to call their own and no one to rely upon for assistance or guidance. They were not permitted to set up a shantytown in the area they emerged in, and as they had no place in the societies on the surface they were seen as refugees at best and illegal immigrants at worst. They were kicked out of the city that they emerged in and made to wander down the roads that led away from the major population centers. As the multi-mile-long train of hopeless Dwarves moved through the wilds, they seemingly vanished off the face of the map.

No one had any idea of where they ended up, and no one cared. Even those that spent money to hire ‘disposable troops’ to aid their escape did not care, for they had already gained what they wanted. They had purchased all the heirlooms and priceless possessions that the refuges had at rock bottom prices, and now that they were of no use it did not matter to them whether they lived or died.

The only trace of their fate was lost to the wilderness, their bodies either taken alive and intact or perhaps disposed of so thoroughly that not even a speck of blood remained. Their belongings (or at least those that they still kept) were taken or looted by professionals, or perhaps some kind of massive portal opened up and swallowed the lot of them.

Actually, there were traces of a powerful magic spell in that area and a lot of wildlife had suddenly gone missing, but no one was willing to fund an investigation and the truth died then and there. No one managed to find out that the Rattan Under-Empire had conspired with the Red Mountain Bandits to teleport the fleeing Dwarves back underground and into the eternally hungry embrace of the vicious and malicious rat-people. Although there were people who tried to engage in their own, private investigations, these ended in disaster as those doing the investigations ended up dead or missing.

Eventually the road became known as the ‘Path of the Vanished’ and fell into disrepair. It was said that if you walked down the now overgrown and unmaintained road at night on the anniversary of the exodus you could hear the mournful cries of the disappeared Dwarves as they wailed in whatever hell dimension they were spirited away to. This ghost story quickly became a profitable tourist attraction, and small villages and towns popped up along the ‘cursed road’ to cater to the ‘foolish and suicidal’ who ‘dared risk vanishing’ just like the Dwarven refugees before them.