Below every hold lie the deeps: collapsed galleries, sealed gates, and the black miles of the Ungdrin where skaven and grobi press forever against the dwarf frontier. The Ironbreakers hold that frontier. Sealed head to heel in gromril — the rarest and truest metal the ancestor gods taught the dwarfs to work — they stand watch at the doors beneath the world, and what comes through comes through them.
War in the tunnels is a trade like any other, and Ironbreakers are its masters: shields locked in a corridor three dwarfs wide, axe-work by lamplight, and the patience to stand a ten-year watch without complaint. When they march in the open field, the enemy learns what a lifetime of fighting in the dark builds — a soldier who cannot be surprised, cannot be flanked, and has never once seen a reason to retreat.