The Delving Defended: A Stake a Claim Battle Report
The air in the mountain pass was thick with the cloying, unnatural chill of the Dead City. Durin, King of Khazad-dûm, adjusted the grip on his axe, his beard bristling against the cold. Before him, the defiled ruins of the outer gates were crawling with Orc filth, a towering Mordor Troll, and the terrifying, cowled shadow of the Witch-king of Angmar. The scent of stone and smithy-fire had been replaced by the iron tang of blood and Morgul sorcery—the mountain had been breached, and the Dwarves would not let the defilers pass without a reckoning.
The Forces
Durin’s Company (Kingdom of Khazad-dûm):
- Heroes: Durin, King of Khazad-dûm, Mardin, and a veteran Dwarf Captain.
- The Rank and File: A versatile host of Dwarf Rangers (with a mix of longbows, two-handed axes, and throwing weapons); elite Khazad Guard; and a Dwarf Warrior with banner.
The Host of Minas Morgul:
- Heroes: The Witch-king of Angmar (on armored horse), a secondary Ringwraith, and a brutish Orc Captain.
- The Rank and File: A swarm of Morannon Orcs, Mordor Orcs (equipped with cursed Blades of the Dead), and a massive Mordor Troll.
The objective was a grueling war of attrition: control five strategic markers spread across the battlefield. Unlike a final land grab, this was a race for Fortification Points, scored at the end of every single turn. With the Orcs wielding soul-striking blades and the Dwarves boasting legendary resilience, victory would go to the side that could remain standing on the blood-soaked earth the longest.
The Opening Volley
As the hosts drew near, the Dwarf Rangers proved why they are the eyes and ears of the mountain. With grim efficiency, they loosed a hail of bolts that silenced the few Orc archers peering from their defensive fortifications.
However, the victory was short-lived. A screech that tore at the soul pierced the air as the Witch-king spurred his black steed forward. With a withered hand outstretched, a pall of magical lethargy fell over the King. Transfixed, Durin felt his limbs turn to lead, his legendary fury dampened by a sorcerous fog.
The Meat-Grinder
With their King magically stifled, the three Khazad Guards bore the full brunt of the opening fury. Isolated against the cursed Blades of the Dead, they fought with legendary stubbornness but were eventually overwhelmed by the sheer lethality of the Morgul steel. By the time the first clash subsided, all three had fallen—a grim sacrifice made to hold the center while the rest of the company scrambled for the markers.
The Troll Toll
Facing such a monstrous force and the lethal Blades of the Dead, the Dwarves had to rely on a relentless rain of throwing axes to thin the Orc ranks before the two lines even met. But once the gap closed, the Mordor Troll became a whirlwind of terror. Acting as a living siege engine, the beast waded into the thickest part of the melee, its massive club sweeping through the Dwarven ranks with bone-crushing force and sending armored warriors flying like broken dolls.
Even the Dwarf Banner was not safe; the Witch-king's dark sorcery frequently blasted the standard-bearer away, forcing the Dwarves to scramble to keep their morale-boosting colors from being trampled in the dirt. The Shadow host seized an early lead in Fortification Points, their aggressive push threatening to sweep the mountain-folk aside.
Dwarven Grit... and Luck
The tide turned as the mountain-folk’s resilience—and an undeniable streak of Dwarven fortune—began to wear the enemy down. As the battle ground on, the Dwarves began winning a statistically improbable number of duel rolls, defying the odds to hold lines that should have shattered. "By the Maker's hammer!" the Dwarf Captain roared, parrying a blow that should have cleaved him in two. While the Witch-king successfully neutralized Durin for much of the match, he couldn't neutralize the luck of the dice or the stubbornness of Rangers holding the line with two-handed axes.
The King’s Gambit
Durin, wounded and sensing his presence in the center was being wasted by hexes, made a tactical retreat. Shaking off the haze, he fell upon the stragglers on the flanks, securing an outer objective and denying the Shadow their points.
Meanwhile, the secondary Ringwraith hissed in frustration, its flickering form finally dissipating as its Will was utterly spent. With the Wraith gone, the Orcs soon became broken. Bolstered by their Dominant rule, the Dwarves flooded the center objective. The Orc numbers dwindled until they were Quartered, and the Witch-king, seeing his puppets slaughtered, vanished into the gloom.
The Aftermath
By the final turns, the Dwarves’ ability to seize and control the center objective more frequently decided the match. By consistently racking up points in the later turns—a task perfectly suited for the sturdy, and today, incredibly lucky Dwarves—they accumulated a lead the Shadow could not overcome.
Final Score: Victory to the Kingdom of Khazad-dûm!
Epilogue
The cacophony of the retreat eventually gave way to a heavy, suffocating silence over the mountain pass. Durin stood amidst the jagged rocks, leaning heavily on the haft of his great axe. He winced, one hand pressed against a jagged rent in his mail where a Morgul blade had bit deep. Around him, the mountain air was beginning to clear of the ill-natured fog as the sorcerous weight of the Witch-king finally lifted.
The King surveyed the horizon. His fallen Khazad Guards and Rangers were a grim testament to the price of victory, but the banners of the longbeards still flew over the five markers. He watched his kin reclaiming the field and felt a grim pride. Luck had been their ally today, but it was the unyielding will of the Dwarves that would ensure Khazad-dûm stayed forever free.
The stone remembers its masters, and today, the masters had returned.









































