Echoed throughout the minds of the Dawi Zhar is a legend
of immeasurable power hidden deep under the mountains.
A liquid magic so potent it can raze entire cities,
leaving nothing but cinders and ash.
Eager to exploit this power,
the Sorcerer Prophet of Zharr-Naggrund,
sought to reach the source of this demonic substance.
The domain of their malign God, Hashut,
the Father of darkness.
For centuries they dug.
Exhausting countless workers as they delved deeper
than the mountain roots themselves.
Two ashen moons ago...
in the depths of the darkest pit...
a discovery was made.
A trickle of pure power, a crimson seem
divining a way through the rocky layers to where Hashut dwells.
And so it was bottled
in a vessel of infernal design.
Rushed to the surface through the fires of industry
to the highest authority.
In the council chambers of Astragoth Ironhand, it was presented.
Roiling with unholy energy, its gloriously terrible
glow glinted in the eyes of all who set their gaze upon it.
The blood of Hashut.
Far rarer than warp stone and gold,
very few vials had ever been extracted from the mines.
The key to limitless power.
Guide me mighty one.
Grant me the strength to cement my reign.
Astragoth, High Priest of Hashut,
roared to the God of darkness.
And he replied.
Ancient channels etched in rock flow with molten fury.
A great drill shall be constructed,
forged in the dread fires of the dark lands
imbued with strength to bore through the bedrock
and breach a godly domain.
Your will shall be done.
Light the furnaces!
The forge burns...
the fires catch...
from the depths...
the Chaos Dwarves will rise.