When allies fled left Chaos to roam,
and evil pillages farm and home.
When cries of aid met deafened ears,
our people suffered dire years.
'Twas then when our need was most,
when hounded by the endless host.
Our forebears sought to hide below,
Through paths they could not truly know.
'Neath darkest hold and hidden forts,
through halls of stone that came to naught.
Past seams of golds and jewels of wonder,
lies the darkness of the Under.
Vast halls echo empty across the Realms, a mere relic of times long since passed where stories are still told of vast carriages of gold that left the mountains to flourishing civilisations of Man and Aelf. The oldest still remember the days of the Duardin might across every realm, vast bastions of strength and wealth that formed the bulwark against the tides of Chaos in the early days of invasion that Sigmar might pull back all those unable to defend themselves behind the walls of Azyr. These mighty halls became islands of civilisation in a sea of chaos and death, and for a time their great stone walls repelled all who sought to pillage those that lay within. Yet as months dragged on to years the duardin within began to realise their part in Sigmars great plan, with his gates now sealed they had simply been discarded, a neccessary loss in a war that was only in its opening days.
In Ghyran the besieged Duardin of the Mender Conformation turned to their ancient crafts to tunnel beyond their isolation, with chaos on all sides they began to dig deep through the realmplate. So dire was their need that vast seams of gold and jewels were ignored, every man woman and child wielding pick for every moment of their waking life. As supplies began to run low, the hope of ever emerging from the great work began to dwindle, yet seemingly failure encroached on their task the mountains rewarded the perseverance. The Menders emerged in the darkness beneath the realmplate, a vast and empty madness that even the stars dare not stare upon shielded from the light of Hysh by the vast realm of Ghyran above this desolate landscape stretched seemingly endlessly onwards as little reward for a lifetime of labour.
The only life that flourished in this deep and unrelenting emptiness came at the Hub, a massive mountainous spire jutting down from the Realmplate above, here seems of the Realm stones that invigorated the lands above allowed some small trace of green and life by way of a nourishing fungus to perservere even in the Under. The Menders set to task building their new home here hidden from the realm above, the Hub becoming a network of vast new holds as they sought to cultivate the fungus to feed what remained of their populace and for a time they were sated.
In time the Menders sought to revisit the vast network that has lead them from their holds above, finding that years spent staring into the vast emptiness of the Under has robbed them of any joys the gold and jewels once bestowed. Yet deep within their heart the Duardin greed still lingered, hungering for something they could as of yet not truly understand, they turned their hands to task and made the seams of metal into a vast array of tunnelling machinery to widen the chasms through which they had made their escape. It was only as they emerged, the searing sun now offensive to their very eyes and bleached skin, turning their gaze to the changed world around them that they truly understood that which they craved. In a world where wealth was in an abundance it had lost all value, the only thing of true value was life itself, it was a currency without comparison and valued beyond even the rarest of jewels.
The Menders looked upon the realms abandoned by Sigmar, upon those who had been felled on the field of battle and tried to save the wounded that were not beyond their talents. Those who could not be saved on the field of battle were instead taken to the vast depths below that they might be worked on hidden from the eyes of the Hosts of Chaos.
Axes for amputation instead of Mining Picks
Mechanical Arachnid mining constructs