Lorgrin Mountainshoulder slowly opened his eyes as he tried his hardest to breathe. Already the sounds and shouts of the battle were rising in volume. His head still hurting from the blow that had knocked him down some moments earlier. As Lorgrin recovered his senses, he quickly realized the battle had escalated in its intensity. The blood of every warrior in that chamber ran hot. In the deep tunnels of the Worlds Edge Mountains, the stubborn dwarfs faced a vast army of orcs and goblins. Their numbers were endless and the core of the mountains shook as the enormous green tide filled the tunnels and passages that lead to the main hall where the dwarfs were making their stand. The unbreakable wall of iron that the dwarfs had formed seemed to contain the massive bulk of greenskins furiously fighting against it. Massive axes, spears and many rusty weapons full of pointy things were slamming down and breaking against the dwarf’s armoured plate. But despite the heavy protection that covered the dwarfs, some of the greenskins’ attacks found their marks in tiny openings and spikes pushed through any exposed skin, shoved forward by many sets of hands. Each dwarf warrior that fell had already accounted for dozens of dead greenskins and the blood-soaked hammers were evidence of their valiant last stands. As they fell, their fellow brothers on their sides closed in to negate any gap, fighting fiercely to prevent any breach in the line becoming a flood through which the orcs and goblins could advance. Through sheer force of numbers, the greenskins pressed on and the dwarfs began to lose ground as they were slowly being pushed back. Despite their best efforts, the wall of iron began to falter and as more warriors died, more angry roars from the green horde erupted. The battle seemed lost and one by one, the weary dwarfs began to sing their funeral songs. Lorgrin Mountainshoulder’s lungs struggled to pull in any of the thin air available. He wanted to fight back with all his remaining strength and push the enemy back despite the overwhelming odds. With a swing from his weapon, two greenskins fell to the ground. Another swing and a poor goblin was sent flying backwards with his bones broken. With his bloodied mouth open, the wounded dwarf realized he was doomed. More and more enemies were pouring in and his strength was quickly fading. As he came to this realization, the maniacal screams from the green horde began to diminish for some reason and the dwarf raised his head. It was then when Lorgrin Mountainshoulder saw him. An imposing figure with a majestic white beard stood defiant, his presence felt by every member of their kin. A figure that made every head in the hall turn and stare. A beacon of light against the massive green tide. The enemies’ rusty banners faltered and the savage war-cries were gradually silenced. The dwarfs funeral chants turned to songs of war and rallying cries. Their weapons and banners raised high in defiance. The fighting turned fiercer than ever, with the dwarfs fighting with renewed strength as if following the example of the mysterious white dwarf that hacked enemies apart with each passing second. So white was his beard, so solid were his feet touching the ground like the roots of an ancient oak tree. As the very air of the hall was filled with new hope for the bloodied warriors, Lorgrin was one of the first to charge forward closely followed by his brothers, all elevated to new heights of frenzy. The wall of iron began to form again as the defenders regained ground and pushed back. The dwarfs war horns, chants and screams surpassed that of the greenskins’ and it quickly became a deafening sound as it thundered across the entire hall. It was as if the mountain itself proclaimed who the true owners of the deep tunnels were. The terrified greenskins, orcs and goblins alike, screamed in terror as they were hacked and smashed down by the fury of their vengeful enemy… None truly know the origins of this most ancient and venerable warrior. As powerful as he is mysterious, the white dwarf appears in the time of need as a proud and humble warrior, watching over his people. In the secretive high tongue of Khazalid, he was given the name Grombrindal meaning “The White Bearded Ancestor”. Many times Grombrindal has emerged out of the shadows, such times when doom seemed to be inevitable for the dwarfs in the battle field, when both the naive beardlings and the seasoned Longbeard warriors embraced their dreadful end. Many times has the intervention of the white dwarf saved the day and his deeds are the stuff of legends. Such as his wrath on a cruel goblin boss during the battle of Whale Bridge, or the epic fight that happened when he led a group of dwarf heroes against an army of Beastmen and Greenskins, or the story of how he inspired courage and strength in the hearts of his kinmen at Bitter Peak leading them to victory against the ratmen. Time after time his unexpected presence saved the future of the dwarves and allowed them to see yet another break of day. Just as he comes into sight out of thin air, he would vanish once his task is done, leaving a pile of lifeless enemies behind. Although there is no dwarf who can deny this legendary being, his identity is a mystery. Through centuries, many theories on his origins were rumored. There are some whispers claiming that Grombrindal is none other than Snorri Whitebeard, the first High King of Dwarves and the eldest son of the Dwarf God Grungni. A mighty King so honorable and loyal that he was called a friend by Malekith of the Elves and was respected by the Phoenix King himself. The story goes that hundreds of years ago, when the polar gates collapsed and the essence of Chaos was unleashed upon the world, the dwarfs and the elves had to fight back to back in order to survive and drive back the common threat that dared to consume the world in madness and chaos. During these dark times, both races made bonds of brotherhood as they were tested time and time again by the armies of Chaos. King Snorri Whitebeard met Malekith during those tumultuous times. Malekith was an elven prince, the son of the Aenarion, the Phoenix King. Both warriors fought many battles together and they developed a strong friendship. When the threat of Chaos was pushed back and was finally contained mainly in the north. Both races began colonizing the old world and expanding their territories. Trade began between the two races and it was a great time for both civilizations. The elves stablished many colonies across the world and the dwarfs expanded their home throughout the mountains, building many holds and expanding their tunnels and underground networks. As time passed, King Snorri Whitebeard died of old age. But before his passing, Malekith made a promise to the dwarf king laying in his death bed. The eleven prince would do everything in his power to ensure that both races would remain being friends and allies forever. With his last breath, Snorri promised he would return when his people needed him, in times when darkness spread far. And so passed Snorri Whitebeard, the first great King of the Dwarfs. Back in Ulthuan, the next king of the elves was to be crowned. Malekith, being the son of the Phoenix King was the natural successor to be the next ruler but some elven princes opposed the idea of having such a tempered character as their leader. After some deliberation, the council decided that Bel-Shanaar was a more appropriate candidate and crowned him as the new Phoenix King. Malekith was the first to accept that change and bowed before Bel-Shanaar, swearing loyalty to him. But after some time, the elven prince would come back to murder Bel-Shanaar by poisoning him and try to take his place as the king. A civil war erupted among the elves and it was Malekith who lost the war and was cast away from Ulthuan. Defeated and full of resentment, the now leader of the dark elves came up with a plan to make the elves fight against the dwarfs. Malekith ordered a host of dark elves to attack dwarf caravans and settlements dressed as regular elves. At that time, the dwarfs didn`t know that the elves had suffered from a devastating civil war and demanded an explanation from the elves for these unprovoked transgressions against their people. Caledor II, the Phoenix King at that time denied all accusations and shamed the dwarf ambassador by committing the greatest of crimes; they sent the dwarf ambassador back with his beard completely shaven. There could only be one response: war. What followed was a massive confrontation that was later called “The War of the Beard”, “The War of Vengeance” or “The War of the Ancients”, as men call it. Elves fought dwarfs in a war of attrition that costed both parties thousands of lives. We will deeply explore the events of this catastrophic war in another video but the ancient alliance between dwarfs and elves was forever lost, replaced by mutual hate for each other. After the devastating war, each race was made considerably weaker. Having spent countless lives and suffered massive damages to cities and settlements, the two powerful races had caused massive damage upon each other. When it was discovered that Malekith had plotted to turn the former allies against each other, vengeance was assured. By breaking the sacred oath that Malekith made to King Snorri, the soul of the dwarf king returned to avenge the betrayal and now is determined to exact revenge upon all enemies of the dwarfs. One other saga suggests that he was a lover to Valaya, the dwarf Ancestor Goddess. This belief might have born from the Rune cloak Grombrindal wears, a cloak that carries the embroideries woven beautifully by Valaya herself. Perhaps one of these claims is true, or one of the other dozens of suggestions. Grombrindal doesn’t reveal himself until the dire moment draws near, yet sometimes a lone, mysterious figure can be seen walking by himself in a dwarf camp on the eve of a coming battle. When this hooded figure is seen, the restless hearts of the warriors beat stronger for their trust is placed in his wisdom and leadership. Indeed, his talents in the battlefield is a kind that eases even the most anxious beardling. Once the war drums are played and the time of the battle arrives, the white dwarf removes his large hood and places a magnificent horned helmet on his head, the Rune Helm of Zhufbar. An artifact thought to be lost. Just as his war helm, his armour is a source of awe and mystery as well. It is said that Grombrindal’s armour was forged by the Ancestor God himself. Grombrindal wields a legendary weapon as well, the Rune axe of the warrior God Grimnir. Many believe firmly that the axe was given to the white dwarf by Grimnir himself, to be wielded to slay vicious foes. In his hands, this legendary axe claimed the lives of countless foul enemies. Some legends even tell unbelievable stories, just as in the battle of Thraag where The White Dwarf is said to have slain ten thousand warriors of Chaos. Besides his mastery in the heat of battle, Grombrindal is a strong leader who sparks inspiration and bravery in the battlefield. One saga narrates the desperation of Umthi the doomed and his clan when they seemingly made their last stand, surrounded by an unruly sea of bloodthirsty Goblins. Yet, when the darkness almost swallowed the dwarves whole, a whisper traveled through the banks of exhausted and wounded warriors, getting stronger by the second; “the White Dwarf”. There, in the core of the enemy line, the Rune axe of Grimnir could be seen moving at an impossible peace. The desolation in the dwarfs’ hearts disappeared with the arrival of hope and strength by the sight of the beard so white as the snow on the peaks of their high mountain homes. Battle cries grew louder and the dwarves gained an otherworldly will and vigor to reach the white dwarf and fight by his side. Once victory was theirs, Grombrindal vanished as he did many times before and would repeat many times after that. Later, an altar was built in his name in that very place where he appeared to save his people, one of many throughout the dwarf realms So special is the White Dwarf that GamesWorkshop’s official magazine carries that name. The monthly magazine is always packed with battle reports, painting tutorials for the many models available, army showcases, pieces of exclusive lore not available anywhere else and more. The White Dwarf magazine has always been a conduit for new rules and ideas for Gamesworkshop games as well as a means to showcase developments. The magazine is an excellent resource for anyone interested in Warhammer in general and has been a reliable source of lore material for many of the videos we publish here on the channel. The history of the dwarfs is full of Grombrindals´ deeds, far too many to dismiss his existence as an old wives tale. Ballads are sung, sagas are written and stories are told in his behalf. The White Beard wanders the secret dwarf roads in the Worlds Edge Mountains. In his disguise as an explorer, none would know that in fact, under the worn out cloak is the mighty hero of Dwarves, Grombrindal. Rumor has it that he accepts dwarf ale from unsuspecting travelers he comes across and grants them prophecies. So long the dwarfs wondered his true face, a God, an immortal hero, perhaps a time defying king? However, what or who he might exactly be, some believe his identity is not meant to unfold and he is to stay the mysterious savior of the dwarf race for the dark times to come.