40d:Stories/Archive 7

A Tragic Tale of Love, Life, and Loss.^DF

Well, not actually. But it is a tragic tale of loss. Names and a bunch of minor details made up for dramatic effect. I lost this fortress in a computer crash so I can't look up what they actually were anymore. Which is too bad, it was the first fortress I was doing right.

Asmel sat at his favorite table, sipping at a bit of his favorite dwarven wine. The dining hall was empty that day, so once he was finally able to enjoy a bit of silence. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. This was a good day. Not that his life was terribly difficult. Most of the time he just sat around in the dining hall with all the other slackers, drinking. Asmel smiled. He was one of the luckier ones. When he had immigrated in not too long ago, there were already massive unemployment problems throughout the Violencewalls colony. Almost as soon as he had sat down in the nicely furnished dining hall, management was already plunking tons of unskilled labors into the army left and right, with the rest getting forced into building a worthless castle outside the fort. Asmel had lucked out. With a vaguely useful skill like brewing, he had managed to be overlooked by the higher-ups during the great job surge. But when all was said and done, there were still a bunch of dwarves who had nothing to do all day except haul the occasional doodad and drink. Asmel chuckled. Whatever faceless entities were running this fort sure were incompetent. Suddenly, a worried looking dwarf busted into the dining hall, interrupting Asmel mid-drink. Asmel looked up. It was Tulon, fellow idler whose main job was drinking ale, and who did a bit of furnace operating on the side.

“Hey, did you hear the news?” The usually jovial Tulon inquired. Asmel set his drink down as a concerned expression spread across his face.

“No, what’s up? Someone box himself in on the castle project again?”

“No, man. Something serious. You know Likot? The hunter?” Likot was usually one of the busier dwarves, so Asmel wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with him. He recognized the name, however.

“Yeah. What happened?”

“Well, apparently he got himself killed.”

“What? Seriously? How?”

“That’s the thing. No one knows. He was returning from a successful hunt, when suddenly, bam! He died. We don’t know what happened, but it sure as hell ain’t natural.”

“...Huh.”

“Yeah. Well, anyways, the fellows up top want us to clean up. They think it’s safe now, and they’re ecstatic that they can keep us busy for a couple seconds. A bunch of the other haulers are ready to go. We’re waiting on you.”

“Alright.” Asmel rose from his seat, stretching the kinks out of his system. Well, up until now it had been a good day. Contrary to it’s name, it was rare that anything bad happened around Fort Violencewalls. Even the most recent goblin invasions had turned out to be nothing more than an additional income source. Asmel followed Tulon up the stairs to the entrance of the fortress, where a bunch of the other usually jolly drinkers had assembled, somber expressions dominating their faces.

“I found him, let’s go.” Said Tulon. The grave procession began their march through the lush forest, stepping over brambles and ducking under branches, keeping a careful watch on the dense woods around them.

“So, where is the guy?” Asmel asked the nearest dwarf. It happened to be Fath, a calm and unmotivated wood burner who favored Dwarven Rum.

“Down south near the river, I think. What do you think happened to him? Goblins or something?”

“Naw, can’t be. The whole fort would be up in arms if it were. Thank God. If there’s one thing I hate it’s lugging some gobbo’s bloodsoaked boots halfway across the world because he didn’t have the decency to die at the castle gates.”

“Then what? I mean that guy was pretty tough, right? I mean, he killed animals for a living.”

“Hey, I don’t know. Maybe some cougar got the drop on him or something. Man, I hope it went quick. He was a good guy.”

“…Yeah.” At that moment, a voice rang through the trees ahead.

“Hey, I think I found him!” Asmel and Fath picked up the pace a bit, stepping out into a small clearing.

“By Armok….” Asmel muttered to himself under his breath, taking in the grisly scene before him. Likot was lying in a crumpled heap of limbs face down on the banks of the river, mouth ajar with an expression of surprise on his face. Nearby sat the body of his most recent kill, an unlucky deer with several bolts stuck in it’s neck and body. The blood of the deer painted the nearby shrubbery red, while Likot’s own blood tainted the nearby river. Next to Likot were Tulon and Datan, an aspiring Judge of Intent who did a little farming on the side. Tulon had picked up Likot’s favorite iron crossbow and was examining it carefully for damage, while Datan crouched over the body, examining the wounds.

“Gentlemen, dinner is served.” Datan joked, grimly. He turned the body over.

“You’d better work on your comedian skills, buddy.” Fath replied. “At least he’s in one piece.” He added. “Well, shall we get started?”

“Yeah, lets get this over with.” Asmel walked apprehensively over to the macabre figure. “I’ll take the cap.” Datan leaned in close, studying the appalling gashes closely.

“Hey, you know, I think these are bi-“ He never finished the sentence. At that very moment, there was a splash of water, a spray of blood, and cry of pain. A slimy figure had leaped out of the water and latched onto Datan’s neck. There was a sickening crack as Datan’s neck gave way to the Sturgeon’s fearsome jaws. Asmel stumbled back, landing on his back and dropping the leather cap. “Son of a-!” He exclaimed. The sturgeon had flopped back into the water. Tulon leaped backwards, only to trip over an unfortunately placed root.

“What the hell was thaAAAAH!” Asmel’s eyes darted to Tulon, just in time to see another sturgeon latch onto to Tulon’s leg. The sturgeon then started to drag Tulon into the murky depths below. “OH GOD OH GOD HELP ME H-” Tulon’s cries turned to garbled splashes as his head slipped below the waters, his hands desperately grabbing at loose dirt. Asmel wildly felt the ground around him, looking for a weapon, or a handhold to pull himself away, or anything really. His hand felt the cold iron of the crossbow Tulon had dropped.

“Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit….” His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He pulled the crossbow in closer, right when another sturgeon burst out of the water. Asmel realized he didn’t know how to work a crossbow, and tried to scramble away. He turned around to see Fath, scared stiff, watching the whole massacre in absolute fear. “Get the hell out of here, Fath! Get help fro-“ A sudden pain lanced through Asmel’s leg. Asmel’s gaze flicked around, only to see the sturgeon clinging to his left leg. This is it…he thought to himself. The last thing he saw was another sturgeon lurching out of the water, flying towards his head….

Sitting at my computer, I notice that that three of my civilian dwarves were struck down within 2 seconds by fish. “What the ****.” I say to myself. Then I think, oh well. It’s just 3 haulers.

---

Kogan's Sacrifice^DF

The digging was going along normally. Kogan and his fellow miners were mining near an aquifer. However, what they didn't know is that they had already found the aquifer. They drilled into the damp rock, hoping to get some more land for the farms that were progressing nicely. Water flooded out, and the miners were called back to build a wall. One miner had to stay to put down the last bricks. Kogan worked against the tide of the water, cutting off the flow, to realize that he was on the wrong side of the wall. Kogan gave his life for the fortress of Waningink, and his sacrifice was commemorated with a simple monument, consisting of parallel bauxite bridges, to be adorned with platinum statues, as a commemoration of the sacrifice of the dwarf who had saved the fortress at a cost that should never have had to been paid.

As a side note, Waningink has had five deaths. Two executions (water towers), three dwarves sealing themselves on the wrong side of water-related structures.

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The Cursed Child^DF

The sleepy Dwarven hamlet of BellSwelters was in downtime, waiting out a bitter winter, when Feb Libashudar finally bore her child. News travels fast in a small fortress, and within minutes everyone was awake; a wild celebration was thrown at the well. Feb, having had a touch too much to drink, staggered beside the well, losing her grip.

This was an underground well, dipping into a sunken pool carved out of the living rock. A clever contrivance of gears, gates, and weighted pushrods kept it full but not brimming, fed from the river above. Moments after little baby Momuz' plunge, already astonished partygoers witnessed the waterfall suddenly erupt with hitherto unknown fury; caught in some vital cog, little Momuz took all of Bellswelters with him beneath the icy winter waters.

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The Hidden Tower^DF

There was once a small, but thriving fortress dug out under a mountain, which was at the edge of a vast mountain range. There was a forest at the north of the mountain, a brook on the west, a volcano on the southwest, a chasm on the southeast, and mountains on all other sides.

The fortress grew slowly in size, but very quickly in wealth, as they were surrounded by precious metals and gems. There was so of this that when the miners had just begun to dig they struck gold. Once the Dwarven caravan had returned to the Mountainhomes, bearing golden crafts and platinum statues, they brought news of an outpost with immense wealth. The news spread like wildfire, and soon almost the whole world knew about it.

However, as always, the news reached the wrong ears. Goblin and Kobold thieves and ambushers came soon, eager to steal the riches. The fortress was still small in terms of population, but their military was made up of grim, determined dwarves who fought bravely. The outpost managed to repel all attacks with minimal loss. Their population grew very fast since migrants arrived in huge numbers.

Soon, the mayor sent some miners on an expedition to the far ends of the area to find more ores and gems. He also wanted a supply of magma for a smelter. The miners dug faithfully, but forgot to block the tunnels they dug, and soon chasm creatures flooded the fortress. Meanwhile, the fortress lost a couple of good miners at the volcano, but they managed to channel magma to the fortress. Along with the magma came Fire Imps, Fire Men and Magma Men, rapidly killing dwarves. To cap it all, the Goblins sent a huge siege party to the fortress.

The mayor consulted the Captain of the Guards, who told him that even if they managed to drive away the critters, the goblins would finish them off. However, he had an idea. The miners were sent for an extremely important, and classified mission. They dug out a temporary room for the dwarves, under the mountain. The nobles were quickly rushed in, followed by the civilians with the food, drink and all other items they took. The military tried their best and drove away most of the chasm creatures. The Captain, after beheading the last troglodyte, rushed the army into the room. The miners, meanwhile, dug a tunnel from the brook to the room, providing a water supply. Finally, the best mason built a wall to block the pathway, just as the lava creatures arrived.

The Goblins were surprised to find the fortress totally devoid of dwarves. As they explored the fortress, it seemed as if it was devoid of treasure too. Then the lava critters burst in. There was a fast and furious battle between the Goblins and the Fire Imps. The Goblins managed to drive them back to the magma forge, a heroic feat, when even more Magma Men and Fire Men emerged from the lava. The Goblins sent a few messengers to nearby towers, just before they were all burnt to crisps. Soon, chasm creatures spouted out of the tunnels, and joined forces with the Magma Men to battle more Goblins who arrived. In short, there began an endless battle between the goblins and the creatures of the region.

Unbeknownst to the other beings in the outpost, the mountain was almost entirely excavated. In the centre was a vast tower, made of gold, silver and platinum. There were hundreds of brilliant statues and engravings. The dwarves were thriving. Without the caravans to bring them food (since most dwarven civilisations had wiped them off the map), they relied on farming and herding for food, cloth and drink. They also mined extensively, with tunnels reaching to various corners of the area. Their tower was like a wonderland for dwarves, with ponds, statue gardens, zoos and artificial waterfalls.

The dwarves of the Hidden Tower, as they called themselves, survived for decades in that tower, entirely self-sustainable. However, they did not realise that a few adventurers had driven out the goblins, and the dwarves had begun populating it again. They managed to tame the wild creatures. However, they too were surprised to find strange tunnels criss-crossing the earth, more surprised to find very little stone remaining. They were also blocked out from a certain mountain by what were certainly dwarven-made walls. Alas, if the hidden dwarves had chosen to reveal themselves, they would have survived what was coming for them....

A couple of centuries later, when there was but 1 dwarf alive that remembered life before the escape to the tower, a terrible famine struck the fortress. The main reason was that a dwarf went strange and started screaming for glass. Since there was no means of making it (the only thing the fort lacked was a supply of sand) the dwarf went berserk. The fortress's mayor had not planned any assault on its citizens so there was no military at all. The miners were the only dwarves who carried any weapons. Most unfortunately, the crazy dwarf was a legendary miner.

The fortress was mainly focused on food production, so it's population of almost 500 would be sustained. The majority of the working class was working in a few rooms in farms, farmer's workshops, kitchens, stills, butcher's shops and fisheries. Fisherdwarves also fished in channelled streams from the brook and the underground river. The berserk dwarf rampaged through the food workshops, and slaughtered most of the poor workers.

The mayor immediately called for the miners to subdue the berserk dwarf. Meanwhile, the dwarf in question worked his way to the farms. There was a renovation project going on in the farms, and there were many farmers there. There were also some plant processors making cloth and food. The miner ravaged through most of the workshop workers, before a brave farmer tried to wrestle with him. The farmer was killed almost instantly, but he enticed a few more farmers to try to grab the berserk dwarf. After a few minutes, the pick was pulled out of his hand.

The crazy dwarf was soon killed by the miners, but the damage was done. Almost all the food workshop workers were dead, and the rest were injured to some degree. Altogether 79 dwarves were killed. The smell of dwarf blood hung in the air for weeks after that. All the remaining ~400 dwarves attended a mass funeral, but many dwarves were unable to handle the loss of so many friends and went mad.

After all that, about 300 sane (but still unhappy) dwarves remained. All the dwarves were put into the food industry. Though there were loads of dwarves producing food, it was still not enough since the majority of the workers were unskilled, and unable to work fast enough.

The fort had huge hordes of animals kept in cages, so when butchered they produced enough food for the population. However, the fort entered a 'drink crisis' since the brewers were too slow. Within a few months, more and more dwarves became unhappy, and unhappier, and finally succumbed to madness. A few just starved to death, and caused more unhappiness. Others went berserk, and killed even more dwarves, causing EVEN more unhappiness. The beautiful tower did not look that beautiful any more, what with bloodstains and mad dwarves at every corner.

When the population of sane dwarves reached just 100, it was obvious that the fortress was going to collapse. Kogan, the old miner who was the only dwarf who lived before the construction of the tower, was not too happy about this, as he had seen the tower grow all the way. He and his apprentice Mafol secretly went out to mine in the tunnels one evening, but instead of going to the appropriate digging site. They were trying to dig their way out. They managed to dig all the way up and, braving daylight after centuries, threw up promptly.

Both dwarves had a severe case of cave adaptation. Thanks to this, they were temporarily stunned, and did not notice the approach of a ferocious dragon above them. By luck, the dragon did not notice them either, and flew straight to meet the new dwarves at the fort.

At night, when the sky was dark, the two dwarves went out exploring. They marvelled at the trees, the grass and the beautiful fresh air. While doing this they reached the new settlement in the area. The dragon was, at that point, frying some dwarves inside the fort. Kogan and Mafol were not educated about dragons and went in unknowingly. After killing all the new dwarves, the dragon was peacefully resting on its hoard, when the two miners stumbled in.

The dragon was quite intelligent, and knew from the start that the 2 were not from the fort he just depopulated. They were richly garbed with silk clothes and their picks were set with diamonds. With a burst of flame the two miners were transformed into a pile of ash on the ground. However, the sighting of the 2 dwarves caused the dragon to ponder....

The dragon immediately set off to find out where the mysterious miners came from. He found the staircase and went down to find a new tower, full of more dwarves to eat! The apperance of the dragon caused the already poor morale of the dwarves to break. All the dwarves were killed that night, and thus ended the lives of the Dwarves of the Hidden Tower.

The Hammer of Madness

In a fortress unnamed, deep under the mountain in a narrow, forgotten hall dense with wood smoke, a dwarf on the edge of madness worked slowly, almost mechanically as if controlled by some outside force, but with great mastery. Hands twitchy as marionettes smote pig iron again and again, while the light of the furnace's glow caught in his eyes menacingly. Over all this came the unending chant of 'Müzuak, Müzuak'. Occasionally dwarves would come and watch, always at a distance. What strange force had possessed their metalsmith?

The form finally cast, the metalsmith began to carve a pattern of enormous intricacy for many days. Blinking and bleary, our metalsmith finally returned to his senses, exhausted and starving, to find he had made Müzuak, 'Fungusmurder', a pig-iron toy hammer of legendary qualities, carved with an engraving of itself... carved with an engraving of itself... carved with an engraving of itself... Peering through a curiously curved chip of crystal, he found still smaller hammers with smaller ones yet carved on them, curving off farther than dwarven eyes could see.

Why would alien forces possess their metalsmith and force him to create this? No one knew. There was nothing to do but inter the artifact in their deeply guarded, polished-walled, double-doored Museum alongside the Coal Amulet of Terrifying Engravings and the Glittering Mechanism of Solid Gold.

Two months later, the dwarven caravan offered them a pair of socks, embroidered on which was a toy hammer, containing a yet smaller toy hammer, containing a yet smaller toy hammer, as finely rendered as cloth and needle permits. Below it in dwarven runes read 'Fungusmurder'. There had been no contact whatsoever with the dwarven homeland until this day. They had always grumbled at their masters, as dwarves are wont to do, but never before had they suspected the Dwarfhome itself had allied with fey forces...

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He just won't let it go^DF

My marksdwarf shot my armoursmith in the leg while practising, after he recovered the dwarf was possesed and made an artifiact....

"Leghurt the copper leggings" it was called.

"On this item is the image of a dwarf and a dwarf in copper. The dwarf is shooting the dwarf."

I love this game...