Much of the following account has been reconstructed from the testimony of the few Elven survivors, fragments of Dwarven records recovered from abandoned libraries, and the results of countless divinations undertaken by scholars over the centuries. Whilst many details remain disputed, the broad sequence of events is accepted by almost every historian who has studied the tragedy of Khelek Carak.
Before it became known as Khelek Carak, the mountain was called Calenost, the Green Mountain. Unlike the bleak peaks that surrounded it, Calenost was clothed in forests, alpine meadows and crystal streams that flowed throughout the year. From a distance the mountain appeared as an island of green rising above the surrounding ranges, hiding beneath its beauty extraordinary deposits of Adamantine, Silver and small but exceptionally rich veins of Mithril. These discoveries attracted one of the earliest Dwarven expeditions into eastern Warlderia, and within a generation the first halls of what would become one of the Four Great Dwarven Holds had been carved into the heart of the mountain. At much the same time, Elven clans established settlements throughout the surrounding forests and valleys, and for many years the two peoples coexisted in an uneasy peace. As both populations expanded, so too did their ambitions. The Dwarves constructed roads, bridges, mines and fortified watchtowers throughout the foothills, believing the mineral wealth of the mountain to be theirs by right. The Elves, in turn, saw the forests steadily consumed by quarries and fortifications, and regarded the expansion as an encroachment upon lands they had long considered sacred. What began as isolated disputes over territory gradually descended into open warfare, with both races convinced that only one could ultimately possess the Green Mountain. The conflict changed dramatically with the arrival of the renowned Elven wizard Kánolach, Commander of the Leaping Flame. A master of elemental magic, Kánolach summoned companies of Greater Fire Elementals that swept through the Dwarven frontier. Watchtowers collapsed beneath impossible heat, forests burned unchecked for months and one by one the Dwarven outposts were destroyed. Although their fortifications remained formidable, the Dwarves quickly realised that they were hopelessly outnumbered and that conventional warfare would eventually force them from Calenost altogether. King Ralri Deepaxe refused to abandon the mountain. The riches hidden beneath its roots were simply too valuable. Instead, he proclaimed that any being capable of driving the Elves from Dwarven lands would receive whatever reward they desired.
Among those who heard the proclamation was a powerful Naga wizard known as Sukumara. Unlike most of its kind, Sukumara cared little for wealth or political power. Its true obsession was knowledge, particularly those branches of magic that others considered forbidden. It approached King Ralri with an extraordinary proposal. Within two months, it claimed, the Elves could be driven permanently from Calenost. In return it demanded only a complete copy of an ancient Elven grimoire devoted to elemental magic together with unrestricted access to one of the Hold's greatest Runemasters and every text concerning Dwarven rune magic. King Ralri distrusted the creature profoundly, yet every alternative promised only defeat. After lengthy negotiation, Sukumara accepted a magically binding Geas compelling it to devote all its efforts for the next two years towards driving the Elves from Dwarven lands. Satisfied that such a spell made betrayal impossible, the King reluctantly agreed. A Dwarven expedition infiltrated Elven territory, stole the requested grimoire and returned safely to the Hold, and the bargain was sealed. For an entire month Sukumara studied both traditions of magic. Combining ancient Dwarven rune craft with the principles of Elven elemental enchantment, it devised a ritual unlike anything previously attempted. Five immense Adamantine runes would be forged and buried beneath the principal watchtowers surrounding Calenost. At the heart of the mountain a sixth rune, fashioned entirely from enchanted Silver, would act as the master focus controlling the entire network. When activated, the enchantment would unleash a wave of supernatural winter across the Dwarven realm, covering the land in eternal frost and driving back both the Elves and their summoned Fire Elementals. The Dwarven Runemasters examined every detail and even constructed a smaller experimental network to test the enchantment. The trials proved entirely successful. The frost spread only a short distance beneath the surface, and should anything go wrong the enchantment could supposedly be ended simply by removing the master rune. Confident of success, the Dwarves approved the plan.
For another month the Hold laboured without rest. Adamantine was mined, smelted and forged into colossal rune stones whilst Sukumara personally oversaw the enchantments, adding powerful wards to shield them from Elven counter-magic. The completed runes were quietly transported to the frontier watchtowers, whilst the master rune was installed within a hidden chamber near the summit of the mountain. Everything was finally prepared. Sukumara departed for its distant temple carrying the books it had demanded, its obligations under the Geas apparently fulfilled. King Ralri, however, sought more than survival. He wanted revenge. Leading a powerful warband, he descended upon a nearby Elven village and ordered the slaughter of every living soul. Men, women, children and servants alike were put to the axe before the Dwarves withdrew behind the safety of Calenost. The outrage achieved precisely what the King intended. Consumed by grief and fury, the Elves assembled one of the greatest armies ever seen in the region. Kánolach himself marched at its head, accompanied by numerous Greater Fire Elementals determined to erase the Dwarven kingdom forever. As the Elven host advanced upon the mountain, King Ralri stood beside the master rune and waited. Only when the enemy had fully committed themselves did he activate the enchantment.
The result exceeded every expectation. From each frontier watchtower a wall of supernatural frost exploded across the landscape. Ice raced across valleys faster than any horse could gallop. Rivers froze in moments, forests vanished beneath crystal and the advancing winter swept around and behind the Elven army before they understood what was happening. The Fire Elementals hurled themselves against the spreading frost only to be extinguished one after another. Kánolach realised too late that no spell at his command could halt the enchantment. Those capable of teleportation escaped with as many companions as they could save, but thousands of Elves, together with countless Human slaves and camp followers, were frozen where they stood. It remains one of the greatest disasters in Elven history. For a brief moment King Ralri believed himself victorious. Then the true nature of Sukumara's bargain became horrifyingly clear. The Naga had honoured every word of its Geas. It had indeed driven the Elves from Dwarven lands. Nowhere had it promised not to destroy the Dwarves as well. Hidden within the enchantments were subtle alterations that no Runemaster had detected. Instead of stopping at the surface, the supernatural winter poured downward into the mountain itself. Tunnel after tunnel disappeared beneath advancing walls of enchanted ice. Entire clans froze where they stood. Smiths remained beside their forges, priests in the middle of prayer and children asleep within their beds. King Ralri watched in horror as the kingdom he had sworn to protect vanished around him. Moments later he too was consumed by the eternal frost.
The surviving Elves abandoned the region and, in mourning for those who had perished, renamed the mountain Khelek Carak—Ice Fang, for the immense pillar of enchanted ice that crowned its summit and could be seen for many miles across the surrounding lands. During the centuries that followed, countless expeditions sought to break the enchantment. Several of the outer Adamantine runes have since been weakened or destroyed, allowing the surrounding valleys once more to support life, though snow and bitter frost still linger throughout the region. The master rune, however, has never been reached. Every attempt ends in the same way. Protective magic against cold gradually fails, the supernatural frost penetrates every defence, and those who venture too close simply become the newest statues within the frozen halls. Only a handful of explorers have ever returned from the upper reaches of the Hold. All describe the same impossible sight. Perfectly preserved Dwarves still stand exactly where death claimed them. Smiths remain poised above their anvils. Banquet tables are laid for meals never eaten. Children sleep peacefully beneath blankets of crystal. Nothing decays. Nothing changes. Deep beneath the mountain, one of the greatest Dwarven kingdoms in history still waits, frozen forever at the instant of its destruction, its immeasurable wealth and forgotten secrets preserved beneath the eternal ice for those brave, or foolish, enough to seek them.