"A cornered rat will bite even a cat." - Old folk saying.

"So how bad of a hit did we take?" asked Barnaby with a tired sigh as he sat down by the table they have met at for the past few days. The venerable dwarf's armor was dented at several places, and some of his proud beard had been burnt. He had apparently been close to an explosion and caught part of it earlier that day.

"We have two thousand left, mebbe another hundred or two at most… and that's counting the wounded that can still fight," replied the young dwarf who used to be the assistant to the 1st Regular's commander. The commander, who used to be the one reporting for the regulars, had fallen in the line of duty that afternoon. "That's total, including all your mercenary forces as well. Best estimates placed the enemy at six thousand, but they might still have nine to ten thousand."

"Pretty tall odds… especially with the gates breached. We held them off today, but I'm not sure how much longer we could do so at this rate," admitted Reinhardt with a sigh. He made no comment about the rather pungent smell in the room. After over a week of constant battles, and little time to properly rest and clean up, everybody stank. "Any progress with the warrens, Graf Harscape?"

"Aye, that's the one good news I got for us tonight. The warrens are pretty much done, and all your followers and dependents have been moved there, as I'm sure you've all noticed by now," said the old dwarf with a tired smile. "I'm having half the shapers expand it further. Worse comes to worse, it should have room for what's left of us when it comes to that."

"The other half of the shapers will be erecting some makeshift fortifications around the chapel, since it's a high ground. We will collapse all other entrances to the warrens except the one under the chapel and retreat there should we lose the walls," added the old dwarf. "They estimate they could probably get something decent done in a day or two. I trust you all can buy that time for them?"

"We'll do it or die trying," said Barnaby as he thumped his chest with one balled fist. "Won't they be able to find the abandoned entrances though? What if they chose to go there instead?"

His question was a valid one, as the chapel and the small hill it was situated on was in the center of the cluster of buildings in the makeshift fort. Fortifying the chapel meant that the other buildings would be abandoned outside the defensive perimeter.

"When the time comes, I will have my best personal guards stay in the warrens. These fanatics might get the drop on us here on open ground, but in the warrens… I doubt they could get through us easily," replied the Graf with grim confidence in his voice.

Reinhardt understood what he meant. The warrens and the tunnels connecting the many underground chambers were built under dwarven specifications. That is to say, they were all low-ceilinged, wide tunnels. So low that most humans would have to bend their backs to navigate them.

Dwarves were naturally shorter than humans, mostly due to their short, stumpy legs. On the other hand, their arms were often twice as large as that of an adult human's, if not more. Powerful and muscular, under the cramped confines of the underground tunnels no other race could truly match them in combat.

Much of the warrens served as makeshift hospitals, where their wounded - mercenary and regulars both - were treated of their injuries. Under the circumstances, the many dependents of the mercenaries helped the all too few healers and medics at their work, even if it might be as simple as carrying their tools or boiling the water for them.

"This would've been easier if they just charged like madmen like last time," complained the commander of the Graf's personal guards. "Have ye tried to take out them priests, lass? Those seem to be the ones in charge of the mob."

"I took two down today, but the rest were covered by shields before I could get another," replied Salicia with an annoyed huff from her seat. "Losing those two didn't seem to affect them much, though."

"How many more priests did you see?" asked the Graf in turn to the one-eyed archer.

"At least four more. Maybe five. There was another who didn't wear the robes but was shielded like the rest," she reported. "If you guys could drag down the shields or if they get within two hundred meters I have confidence in nailing them, but as it is, it's rather hard to do."

"We'll keep that in mind."

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The following day's battle proved to be a brutal struggle, as the zealots pushed the assault as soon as it was bright enough to see. They had avoided night attacks because it would just backfire on them. Dwarves favored living underground, and their sight was well-adapted to darkness, unlike human eyes.

The remaining defenders spread themselves thinner and thinner, as they did their damndest to hold the walls and the gates. Barely two hundred or so meters behind their backs, the mage-engineers of the Stone Shapers were busy at work as they crafted one makeshift fortification after another.

Despite all their efforts, it was a far closer fight. Their lines had thinned, and once Reinhardt had to interrupt his rest and led his ever dwindling first group of combatants to come to the assistance of the north gate, where Barnaby's men faltered for a moment.

Fortunately after his timely aid they managed to regain control of the situation, and the defenders doggedly persisted until nightfall, their numbers falling lower and lower as the fight went on.

Reinhardt thought there might be less than fifteen hundred of them left and able to fight by that night, and in the meeting that night, they made the decision to abandon the walls, retreating to the makeshift fortifications around the chapel instead.

That night, the members of the Stone Shapers worked themselves to exhaustion. Some further reinforced the makeshift fortifications, while others sabotaged the walls on specific spots, to deny their enemies any advantage they might grant.