40d:Stories/Archive 2

The Story of Hoofclapped, Downfall of Ghoul-Ash the Bane^DF

10th Sandstone: It's almost winter of our third year. I suppose I should have kept records earlier, but everything was going too well, we were just too busy. I guess I'll start with a short recap.

We are The Glowing Hammers, now a small villiage called Ghoul-Ash the Bane, once an adventuring group from The Enchanted Gates. I am Kromkar Alathrit, and have been the leader, broker, and mayor since we embarked in our travels. At first the seven of us were worried, but we found plentiful wood, easily mined shale, and a fresh source of water. For the past two and a half years, everything has gone great. We increased our population to seventy-four dwarves, all good and stout, nary a useless profession amongst us. We had just begun to seriously smith our tradegoods when -it- was made.

The dwarf who made it, an immigrant named Zon Asobothos, called it Hoofclapped. It was a vicious-looking iron crown, with bits of bloody rope-reed hanging from its menacing spikes. Since the day it was created, we have seen no end of strife. Soon after, a foul mood spread 'cross the fortress. I mandated the forming of a fortress guard, in addition to our already large military of fourteen dwarves. This brought our total of trained fighters to twenty; Two marksdwarves (including the sheriff), six hammerdwarves, two speardwarves, four swordsdwarves, and the rest as wrestlers. We had four legendary wrestlers, champions in the realm, and renowned the world over. This was not fated to be however.

Shortly after the arrival of the human caravan in summertime, trouble increased. Our sizable military had dealt with the kobold and goblin thieves, and what they didn't catch, our traps did. As the human caravan concluded its trading with us, our fisherdwarves raised the alarm. A force of ten goblins was attempting to enter through the western tunnel. The anglers grappled with the goblins before being skewered by crossbow bolts. IT gave me just enough time to have the floodgates opened, the raging river now channeled into the sealed death trap. Unfortunately, none of the goblins were inside. It was at this point I suspected the leader of the raiding party was quite vicious and skilled, so I had the militia take up arms. Another fifteen dwarves were added to our military strength, including all my woodcutters and carpenters, and my miners. As I gave the order to raise the drawbridge, preparing for a flank through a secret tunnel that exited behind the goblins; The foolish commander of my woodworker squad, The Mythical Abbeys, rushed forth with his men to save his wife, a mason of great renown, having created an artifact called Rootwind, a shale amulet. The goblin crossbowmen dropped three of the eight before they could close to axe-range. They fought savagely, and managed to kill all but the leader, who finished off that poor fool Mistem Alathular with a bolt to his unconscious head before the beast fled the two woodcutters charging down the hill.

This was not the worst, for we had much food and drink in storage, and could wait until more carpenters were trained to pick up the reins of barrel-making. It was at this point that our butcher lost it. He went on a tantrum in the dining hall, smashing two shale tables in twain before he smashed the animal trapper into the wall, quite severely damaging both his head and pelvic area. The fortress guard managed to detain him in the jail, behind the hard iron bars I had mandated be used for just this sort of incident. Then more dwarves lost it; the weaponsmith, the engraver, a metalcrafter, and a farmer. The engraver shattered a mechanics upper legs in the dining hall with a chair, before the guards beat him into submission. Then the metalcrafter broke a different engravers leg, with his bare hands. At this time, a child brought with the last wave of immigrants went insane. He attempted to kill the only brewer in the fortress, and was put down by a nearby wrestler.

In retrospect, perhaps I shouldn't have had Thikut, the wife of the late Mistem, build the coffins. But she was the best mason in the fortress, and the dead needed to be returned to the stone before the monkeys got to them. I think she broke down when she made her husbands casket, the last in an order of caskets that left room for two additional deaths. She went insane as well, and a guardsmen was attacked by her and cut her down with his sword. Even now I can hear the fortress descending into anarchy. The center cannot hold in this widening gyre of insanity caused by Hoofclapped.

This is the first, and methinks last, report the mountainhome shall receive. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to reclaim Ghoul-Ash. Its name is true, it is a Bane and curse to all dwarfdom.

-Long Live Queen Zaneg!

--Kromkar Alathrit

Cog Thabostcatten, the little girl that hated everything

One fine day, the fortress Izengengish was blessed with a little baby girl, and her parents settled on naming her "Cog Thabostcatten". Cog had little appreciation or understanding for art, but she had a divine mission to create an artifact specifically to taunt those ridiculous, silky-haired, beardless hippies that came into her fortress skipping and holding hands each year. She gathered chalk, steel, and fire agate, then set to work on making a subtly offensive mug. After about a week of toiling, she created from chalk a mug that menaced with spikes of steel and bore the images of larch trees and leaves in fire agate. After selling it to the frolicking mary-sues at a nonsensically unfair price, Cog went back to doing all kinds of little girl stuff. The "FFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU" squealed by the elves when they realized exactly what the images on the mug were meant to represent could be heard for miles. Cog grew to be a superdwarvenly tough and sassy young lady, constantly intimidating and picking fights with loiterers on her free time. She was studying to become an engineer and siege operator, when the people of Izengengish decided that she aught to be mayor. Her first act upon being elected was to order the construction of a fortified bunker featuring four ballistas, one facing each cardinal direction, as well as some big gold and platinum statues to make it blingtacular. Shortly after the ultra funky bling time ballista party room had been completed, a massive goblin force rolled into town and managed to make its way into her awesome ballista party room, using a troll slave to destroy the hatch covers barring entry from below. Upon realizing she was surrounded, Cog entered a martial trance. The exact death toll is to this day unknown, but it is estimated that Cog utterly destroyed thirty five goblins of various professions before collapsing from her injuries and losing conciousness. Though she was recovered as quickly as possible, Cog unfortunately bled out before she could be taken to a bed to rest, and died at the tender young age of fourteen. It seems that of all the things she hated, the one thing she hated most was life. And cupcakes. Mostly cupacakes.

The '45. The Year of Hell

The Fortress was Clutchtour. The year was 245, a full 16 years after Endok Ageshmorul's legendary stand. The fortress had become much more militant when it was discovered they could subsist solely on the spoils of war from goblin corpses. The guard and royal guard numbered 30 dwarves. A 50 dwarf regular military was maintained with 2 branches, light infantry (marksdwarves) under Captain Eral Sirabdakas and the heavy infantry (melee fighters) under Captain Sodel Zaneg. Each branch consisted of several independent companies. The whole structure was under the commanding officer of the guard, Major Sigun Berkithin. A rotating watch system was employed to keep caravans safe adn to kill any enterprising goblin or kobold theives. It worked flawlessly for years.

The spring goblin siege went off without a hitch. The goblins had been killed to the last without a single dwarven injury. It had been so for years. It may have made the soldiers overconfident. The summer siege was disasterous. Two goblin detachments entered Clutchtour territory near the Gate, one detachment on either side of it. The two heavy infantry companies stationed at the gate were dispatched to deal with them. The 1st company under Captain Zaneg was dispatched to the east. The 2nd company under Lt Rith Kikrost was dispatched to the west. Shortly before the invasion, the leftenant had decided to take lunch and took most of the company with him. The only remaining squad belonged to Sergeant Dodok Artum, a hero of Clutchtour. She took her orders and her two privates and charged the goblins. Her subordinates (Privates Fikod Fikuksibrek and Tulon Orrun) fell quickly to goblin spears. Sgt Artum herself felled 3 goblins before being killed with the newborn she was carrying with her.. The 1st company was at full strength and dispatched its target with ease and had been ordered to support its sister company. But it was half the map away. Some members of the light infantry who had been practicing on outdoor archery targets took it upon themselves to be a stopgap. Lts Ast Batokdurad (6th company) Mosus Kizbiz (3rd company) Corporal Kogsak Ducim (3rd company) and Sergeant Bomrek Stakudbecor (Lt infantry reserves and drill sergeant) held the line until the 1st company arrived. For their trouble, Lt Kizbiz and his corporal were severely wounded and carried to the infirmary. The rest of the goblins ran.

Sgt Dodok Artum had married a member of the Royal Guard. Most of her surviving children joined the military as they grew up. One of them had been Private Fikod who died with his mother. This resulted in a slew of heavily depressed dwarves with weapons. In the second half of the month, things spiraled out of control. Corporal Morul Etescatten, one of Sgt Artum's daughters, of the light infantry broke down in a tantrum near the trade depot and began firing bolts in to the massed people. She shot and killed weaver Zon Voboketas. The guard promptly took her out. Days later in the infirmary, Crp Kogsak Ducim went in to a rage and shot and killed his comatose superior officer in the bed next to him. It was an unfitting end for a veteran of 22 years. A nearby sparring guardsdwarf put the corporal down. Private Asob Sakzulagos fell into melancholy and dehydrated to death. A heavy infantry private named Tulon Imeshmafol went berserk but was felled before he could hurt anyone. The insanity continued through fall. The final blow was yet to be struck.

The fall siege had been dealt with by traps, the instability of the troops leading to orders to move inside and let the invaders kill themselves. By winter, things seemed to be heading towards normality. The killings had slowed. Occasionally, one of Sgt Artum's younger children would snap and have to be put down but equilibrium was close.

The Goblins attacked. Confident, the heavy infantry moved in to battle. The 3rd company under Sergeant Major Vabok Arel was strong. Its ranks were filled with champion dwarves. Few dwarves in the military were as distinguished as the Sgt Mjr himself. Arel had 22 years of service under his belt and over 60 kills to his name. His company bore down on the goblin detachments. As the warriors met, a goblin spear user, a normal rank and file goblin, got a million to one shot. Sgt mjr Arel had killed dozens like him but this one managed to pierce the sgt mjr's armor and strike a fatal blow. Vabok Arel was the first casualty of the battle. Instead of capitulating, one of his NCOs, Corporal Kubuk Tetthush took command lead the squad for the remainder of the fight. He took 17 goblin heads in revenge for his dead friend and superior. Kubuk Tetthush received a a statue in his tomb for his superior service in the line of duty.

The moment 246 rolled around, the killings stopped. No more children went berserk. No one went melancholic. Before Sgt Artum had gone into battle, she had 14 of her 20 children still alive. When they had finished grieving her death, only 6 remained. Lt Rith's cowardice and abandonment of his post was cited as the reason for the catastrophe and he was demoted to Ensign. The numbers 45 and 245 are now considered cursed or unlucky inside Sholidsigun.

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The Siege of PaintFeed ^DF

Paintfeed, or Logemked in the Dwarf tongue, was now firmly on the world map. Goblins had been repulsed, trade was good, and their stone crafts were coveted throughout their parent nation and many elven and human ones as well. However, the goblins were angry. In fell revenge for their slain comrades, and a greedy grab for the Paintfeed wealth, a goblin siege appeared. No big problem, the military thought. Only 5...10...16...30...50??!!

At this time in the history of Paintfeed, the military was a small force of 10 dwarves. 7 grizzled champions, 2 wrestlers and a recruit. 2 of the champions were marksdwarves. The rest wielded swords or nothing.

The Mayor gave an order and word went up. In the dining room, an ancient lever was tugged, rusted mechanisms sprung into place. The Bridge of Outer Paintfeed rose. Slowly the fortress was cut off from the outside world.

The goblins milled outside of Paintfeed, unsure of their next move. Dwarves inside worried about dwindling wood stocks. Charcoal, and thus metal production ground to a halt (this was before the Great Magma Discovery of 205). Dwarves fought over lack of booze barrels.

Finally, in a last ditch attempt, the 10 military dwarves massed by the gate for a final charge at the 50+ strong goblin menace. The squad leaders, Lorbam and Ducim, both grizzled champions, sent out the call.

"Lower the gate!"

The goblins charged Paintfeed. The two marksdwarves prayed to Armok as they let loose bolt after bolt behind the charging warriors. Goblins fell left and right as the swordsdwarves and marksdwarves rained upon them. Finally, the siege was broken. The cowardly goblins retreated to their towers with huge losses. Only two dwarves were killed, a champion and a recruit. Both were given great funerals by many dwarves. Goblin death count was slightly under forty, many chopped into pieces in the chaos. Goblin chunks littered the well. But Paintfeed had won, and trade went on, now with rooms and rooms of goblin junk to boot!