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Poetry News Post #7135
The Rumbling of Gargalant
Written by: Wocs, of Cyrene
Date: Sunday, October 4th, 2026
Addressed to: The Clan of Dwarves of Kongol Drak
[Inspired by Dwarf Record HISTORYIV]
Gargalant, war-leader, stood
far from every hall he knew,
on Nishnatoba, far from home,
with stranger kin and skies unknown.
Before the insect hosts and crystal horde,
the dwarves stood hushed beneath the sword!
Their hearts ran cold,
old doubts awoke,
then through the ranks his voice broke:
"Oh Captains grim, with beards unbound,
the last of day is burning down!
We gave our word, we know it well!
We came enthralled, if we must fall,
we'll fall in song, and answer all!
I'll take one beast and sing His name!
For all to see, for all to claim!"
From rank to rank, from shield to shield,
a note rose up across the field.
A thousand chests, one deep refrain,
like restless earth beneath the plane.
It climbed, it shook the ground,
a rolling thunder of MOUNTAIN SOUND!
The dwarves and foes wheeled through the din;
the Elder gods' lines broke and thinned,
but through the smoke the herald strode,
and mocked the song the dwarves bestowed:
"Little children of hammered clay!
Your maker left and turned away.
You sing your hymn to empty air!
Who hears your dirge? Who knows you're there?
Our masters never fear a tune.
Who remembers Shattered Stone?"
But still they sang beneath the red,
one voice, then many, one by one fell dead.
The Inferno broke upon their line,
a tide of fire, an iron spine.
The field ran red; the dwarves went down,
a slaughter without wreath or crown.
Few reached the barrier Proteus raised,
and watched the shield through ash-stung eyes.
They envied those whose songs had ceased,
whose final breath had gone released.
Yet deep below, through hall and mine,
the tune endured in ale and rhyme.
In ringing hammers, in brawl and cheer,
Gargalant of Shattered Stone still rumbles here.
Allies and enemies stopped and stared,
unmoored by the song the dwarves had dared.
The gods still hear it in dwarven sleep,
and mountains hum it in the deep.
Dwarves lost the battle, yet won the tale:
A legend still sung with a pint of Ale!
Penned by my hand on the 6th of Aeguary, in the year 1016 AF.
Previous Article | Back to News Summary | Next Article Gargalant, war-leader, stood
far from every hall he knew,
on Nishnatoba, far from home,
with stranger kin and skies unknown.
Before the insect hosts and crystal horde,
the dwarves stood hushed beneath the sword!
Their hearts ran cold,
old doubts awoke,
then through the ranks his voice broke:
"Oh Captains grim, with beards unbound,
the last of day is burning down!
We gave our word, we know it well!
We came enthralled, if we must fall,
we'll fall in song, and answer all!
I'll take one beast and sing His name!
For all to see, for all to claim!"
From rank to rank, from shield to shield,
a note rose up across the field.
A thousand chests, one deep refrain,
like restless earth beneath the plane.
It climbed, it shook the ground,
a rolling thunder of MOUNTAIN SOUND!
The dwarves and foes wheeled through the din;
the Elder gods' lines broke and thinned,
but through the smoke the herald strode,
and mocked the song the dwarves bestowed:
"Little children of hammered clay!
Your maker left and turned away.
You sing your hymn to empty air!
Who hears your dirge? Who knows you're there?
Our masters never fear a tune.
Who remembers Shattered Stone?"
But still they sang beneath the red,
one voice, then many, one by one fell dead.
The Inferno broke upon their line,
a tide of fire, an iron spine.
The field ran red; the dwarves went down,
a slaughter without wreath or crown.
Few reached the barrier Proteus raised,
and watched the shield through ash-stung eyes.
They envied those whose songs had ceased,
whose final breath had gone released.
Yet deep below, through hall and mine,
the tune endured in ale and rhyme.
In ringing hammers, in brawl and cheer,
Gargalant of Shattered Stone still rumbles here.
Allies and enemies stopped and stared,
unmoored by the song the dwarves had dared.
The gods still hear it in dwarven sleep,
and mountains hum it in the deep.
Dwarves lost the battle, yet won the tale:
A legend still sung with a pint of Ale!
Penned by my hand on the 6th of Aeguary, in the year 1016 AF.
Previous | Summary | Next
Poetry News Post #7135
The Rumbling of Gargalant
Written by: Wocs, of Cyrene
Date: Sunday, October 4th, 2026
Addressed to: The Clan of Dwarves of Kongol Drak
[Inspired by Dwarf Record HISTORYIV]
Gargalant, war-leader, stood
far from every hall he knew,
on Nishnatoba, far from home,
with stranger kin and skies unknown.
Before the insect hosts and crystal horde,
the dwarves stood hushed beneath the sword!
Their hearts ran cold,
old doubts awoke,
then through the ranks his voice broke:
"Oh Captains grim, with beards unbound,
the last of day is burning down!
We gave our word, we know it well!
We came enthralled, if we must fall,
we'll fall in song, and answer all!
I'll take one beast and sing His name!
For all to see, for all to claim!"
From rank to rank, from shield to shield,
a note rose up across the field.
A thousand chests, one deep refrain,
like restless earth beneath the plane.
It climbed, it shook the ground,
a rolling thunder of MOUNTAIN SOUND!
The dwarves and foes wheeled through the din;
the Elder gods' lines broke and thinned,
but through the smoke the herald strode,
and mocked the song the dwarves bestowed:
"Little children of hammered clay!
Your maker left and turned away.
You sing your hymn to empty air!
Who hears your dirge? Who knows you're there?
Our masters never fear a tune.
Who remembers Shattered Stone?"
But still they sang beneath the red,
one voice, then many, one by one fell dead.
The Inferno broke upon their line,
a tide of fire, an iron spine.
The field ran red; the dwarves went down,
a slaughter without wreath or crown.
Few reached the barrier Proteus raised,
and watched the shield through ash-stung eyes.
They envied those whose songs had ceased,
whose final breath had gone released.
Yet deep below, through hall and mine,
the tune endured in ale and rhyme.
In ringing hammers, in brawl and cheer,
Gargalant of Shattered Stone still rumbles here.
Allies and enemies stopped and stared,
unmoored by the song the dwarves had dared.
The gods still hear it in dwarven sleep,
and mountains hum it in the deep.
Dwarves lost the battle, yet won the tale:
A legend still sung with a pint of Ale!
Penned by my hand on the 6th of Aeguary, in the year 1016 AF.
Previous | Summary | Next Gargalant, war-leader, stood
far from every hall he knew,
on Nishnatoba, far from home,
with stranger kin and skies unknown.
Before the insect hosts and crystal horde,
the dwarves stood hushed beneath the sword!
Their hearts ran cold,
old doubts awoke,
then through the ranks his voice broke:
"Oh Captains grim, with beards unbound,
the last of day is burning down!
We gave our word, we know it well!
We came enthralled, if we must fall,
we'll fall in song, and answer all!
I'll take one beast and sing His name!
For all to see, for all to claim!"
From rank to rank, from shield to shield,
a note rose up across the field.
A thousand chests, one deep refrain,
like restless earth beneath the plane.
It climbed, it shook the ground,
a rolling thunder of MOUNTAIN SOUND!
The dwarves and foes wheeled through the din;
the Elder gods' lines broke and thinned,
but through the smoke the herald strode,
and mocked the song the dwarves bestowed:
"Little children of hammered clay!
Your maker left and turned away.
You sing your hymn to empty air!
Who hears your dirge? Who knows you're there?
Our masters never fear a tune.
Who remembers Shattered Stone?"
But still they sang beneath the red,
one voice, then many, one by one fell dead.
The Inferno broke upon their line,
a tide of fire, an iron spine.
The field ran red; the dwarves went down,
a slaughter without wreath or crown.
Few reached the barrier Proteus raised,
and watched the shield through ash-stung eyes.
They envied those whose songs had ceased,
whose final breath had gone released.
Yet deep below, through hall and mine,
the tune endured in ale and rhyme.
In ringing hammers, in brawl and cheer,
Gargalant of Shattered Stone still rumbles here.
Allies and enemies stopped and stared,
unmoored by the song the dwarves had dared.
The gods still hear it in dwarven sleep,
and mountains hum it in the deep.
Dwarves lost the battle, yet won the tale:
A legend still sung with a pint of Ale!
Penned by my hand on the 6th of Aeguary, in the year 1016 AF.
