The Burning March
The King’s Ambition and the Justification for War (2350 BGW)
For decades, King Ramarvis Ashwood had watched the dwarves grow fat off their hoarded metalworks, forging weapons and armor that far surpassed anything produced by human hands. Their reluctance to engage in wider trade and their refusal to recognize Greendale’s authority had become an insult that could no longer be tolerated.
Time and again, King Ramarvis had attempted to bring the dwarves into his fold, demanding their allegiance and control over their forges. Yet each demand was met with indifference, silence, or polite dismissal, as though Greendale were beneath the dwarves' notice. The king saw this not as dwarven pride, but as their arrogance—an unearned sense of importance that had to be broken.
The dwarves sat atop vast mines of Drakthorite, crafting armor that could turn aside the mightiest blows and weapons that never dulled. Such power, King Ramarvis believed, had no place in the hands of such a stagnant people. He saw a duty—no, a right—to claim what they refused to share, to strip them of their privilege and place their industry under proper rule.
His decision to march was not one of conquest in his eyes, but of righteous order. The dwarves were squatters upon greatness, unfit stewards of the mountain’s bounty. Greendale, under his rule, would ensure that such resources did not remain wasted in the hands of the undeserving.
The Flames of the North (2350 – 2347 BGW)
The campaign was launched with great fanfare, a demonstration of Greendale’s might. Under the command of Lord Cedric Ashwood, the king’s cousin and most trusted general, 5,000 men marched northward, their Flaming Standards lighting the way—banners imbued with enchanted fire, not to destroy, but to signal Greendale’s strength.
The Fall of Emberhold (2350 BGW) – The first target was Emberhold, a small but critical dwarven trade outpost. The dwarves put up little fight, retreating deeper into the mountains, allowing Greendale’s forces to claim the settlement without significant bloodshed.
Commanding the High Pass (2349 BGW) – With strategic passes secured, Greendale controlled the movement of trade and cut off many dwarven strongholds from outside support.
The Sieges of Ironridge and Blackstone (2348 – 2347 BGW) – More subterranean forges were claimed as human forces advanced, though at great cost. The dwarves did not fight like men; they did not charge the battlefield or engage in open war. Instead, they collapsed tunnels, forced Greendale’s troops into deadly choke points, and wielded their superior craftsmanship with devastating efficiency.
Despite these setbacks, King Ramarvis remained confident. To him, the dwarves were not warriors—merely stubborn craftsmen who had never known the true weight of war. He saw their resistance as an act of defiance, not strength, and pressed his commanders to push forward.
The Black Paladin at the Silent Pass (2347 BGW)
In the latter stages of the campaign, as Lord Cedric Ashwood led a contingent of Greendale’s elite forces toward the Silent Pass, they encountered a force unlike any they had faced before.
With dwarven resistance faltering, Greendale’s commanders anticipated an easy victory, but as the Flaming Standards crested the final ridge, a lone warrior stepped forth from the darkness.
He was clad in obsidian-black armor, his helm obscuring his face, his great battle-axe etched with glowing dwarven runes. He did not speak. He did not hesitate. He charged alone into the ranks of Greendale’s finest.
At first, the soldiers laughed. One man against a hundred? A foolish dwarf’s last stand.
Then the slaughter began.
The Black Paladin moved with terrifying speed and precision, his axe cleaving through armor and flesh alike. Enchanted blades shattered against his blackened plate, war cries turned to screams, and the elite troops of Greendale—warriors who had never known true fear—broke beneath the assault.
Lord Cedric himself engaged the warrior, believing his sheer skill would fell the dwarf, but even his legendary blade was turned aside like a child’s toy. Within moments, the Black Paladin struck him down, leaving Greendale’s forces leaderless and in complete disarray.
The survivors of the battle—those fortunate enough to flee—spread wild and fearful accounts of the unbreakable warrior who had turned the tide of battle with his mere presence. His name, if he had one, was never recorded in Greendale’s histories. To the soldiers who barely escaped the slaughter, he was death incarnate, a ghost clad in black iron, a curse upon those who dared challenge the mountain.
The Stagnation and Growing Cost of War (2346 – 2343 BGW)
What should have been a swift conquest turned into a war of attrition. The mountains themselves became the enemy, with treacherous terrain favoring the dwarves, whose forges were built to withstand siege.
The Draining of Greendale’s Wealth – The campaign’s cost spiraled, draining the kingdom’s coffers as food, weapons, and manpower dwindled. The promised spoils of war—the legendary forges and vaults of dwarven metal—remained out of reach.
The Dwarven Counteroffensive – By 2345 BGW, the dwarves launched bold counterattacks, striking supply lines and reclaiming lost outposts. They fought with patience and precision, bleeding Greendale’s forces dry.
Noble Houses Begin to Abandon Support – What once seemed a grand and glorious campaign turned into a financial and political quagmire. The nobility, once eager for conquest, quietly redirected their wealth into Hollow Lake, seeing it as a safer investment than the now-crippling war effort.
By 2343 BGW, the war was lost, though King Ramarvis refused to admit it. He ordered a withdrawal, but never declared it a retreat. The campaign had been a test of dwarven resolve, a reminder of human might, not a failure. Greendale’s forces departed, battered but unbroken, leaving behind nothing but the scorched remnants of their conquest.
The Legacy of The Burning March
For Greendale’s ruling class, The Burning March was not a mistake, but a statement—a demonstration of human ambition, even if the ultimate goal was not achieved.
Though Greendale would fade into ruin, the legend of the Black Paladin endured, his name spoken only in hushed voices by those who had seen him fight. The king, however, refused to acknowledge such myths. The campaign had ended, but his vision had not—the dwarves had been tested, and one day, their mountain would belong to men.
Even as Greendale crumbled, King Ramarvis spoke not of loss, but of the next great conquest yet to come.
