At the great pass of Kadrin, where the Slayer Keep guards a vital road through the mountains, a greenskin tide met the grimmest defenders in the world in The Battle of Kadrin. Karak Kadrin is home to those dwarfs who have taken the Slayer Oath, warriors who seek death in battle to atone for shame — and a horde marching upon such a place was less an invasion than an offering.
The Orc and Goblin Tribes came down the pass in their thousands, drawn by the promise of dwarf-gold and the ancient hatred that festers between the two peoples. Against them the Dwarfen Mountain Holds sallied forth from the Slayer Keep, and at their head marched ranks of crested Slayers who threw themselves into the green mass with terrible, joyous abandon, caring nothing for their own lives and everything for the death-toll they could reap.
The fighting in the pass was a grinding horror of axe and choppa in a space too narrow to flee. The greenskins had numbers beyond counting, but the dwarfs had discipline, gromril and a fortress at their backs, and the Slayers in particular were a nightmare to fight — a foe who welcomed every wound and could not be made to break. Wave after wave crashed against the gate and washed back down the slope as a tide of green corpses.
The Battle of Kadrin ended with the Waaagh! shattered and the pass held, though many a Slayer had at last found the doom he sought. For the dwarfs it was a grim satisfaction on both counts: the road was kept, and the shamed dead had died as they had always wished to.
The chronicle continues
