Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

In the distant south it was still early autumn. Far beneath the earth in a ruined palace something stirred. There was awareness that The Dreamer was no more, but that did not matter; his role was finished. By harvesting the energy from the sacrifice of the Dead God he at last had the power to begin the process of healing. After all these long ages he would, finally, rise again. The Sleeper would awaken.

Let the Gods of Men tremble.