King Tenzomak sat in the throne room of Syluk. His father’s armor stood in a trophy case against the wall. The King stared at the armor and felt it calling to him. He walked over to it in silence and slowly donned the armor. He felt vast strength flowing in his veins. He had to use the strength quick! Before it consumed him! He lashed out at the grand columns supporting the ceiling of the throne room. His kicks and punches, powered by the ruby plate, brought the walls down around him. Servants fled the royal castle and a few were crushed in the ruins. The King dug himself out of the collapsed keep with his bare hands. He addressed the gathered crowd around his former palace, “For too long we have sat in luxury, enjoying the splendors the world has given us! It has weakened our resolve! Made us like the little people who think of nothing but their pipe-weed and mushrooms! NO LONGER! We shall forge our bodies into a new army and reclaim the glory of the Dwarves! NO MORE MERCY FOR THE EMPIRE!” A cry goes out among the Dwarves and Humans of the city.
Immediately the city prepared for war. Old metal was melted down for new. Fine heirloom luxury goods were sold off to incoming merchants to finance the growing army. Thousands of men reported for the draft. Those that did not were found and punished. Bards were sent out to spread tall tales of Tenzomak’s Ten Hundred Thousand.