ASCII art reward

If you are sending a donation to Bay12Games, they might send you an ASCII Art Reward in exchange. It is a small scene happening in the Dwarf Fortress world. If the same donator gives more than one time, it is also possible that the bits of ASCII Art follow each other and form a story.

Each piece of ASCII Art Reward belong to the donator who received it, but to appetize new potential donators, sharing them might be a good thing :

Beefx

(25 June 2007)

"++@k@++"

Zolon and Morul stood near the steel cage. The brown humanoid inside sat with its hands on its knees, rocking back and forth.

"Clearly, the kobold was molded from stone." Zolon stroked his black beard. He then glanced at Morul, raising an eyebrow.

"Not so fast... the yellow eyes glow. Fire was involved." Morul was a slow thinker, but he was not easily moved.

"Stagis! Bacabadabis!" The kobold began to screech in its low tongue. Zolon and Morul observed in silence until the creature quieted down.

"Was that the wind then?" Zolon asked.

"It seems the interplay of the elements is nuanced in this one, even if the final realization is... lacking."

Morul did not disdain the beast so much that he did not feed it, now that the trapper had entrusted it into his keeping. The philosopher had left a few pieces of old venison in the cage and the creature now lifted one and inspected it. After a few sniffs, the kobold pitched it through the steel bars. The dwarves watched as the meat spun through the air and landed a few yards from the cage. When they turned back around, the kobold was inches away from them, its face pressed against the bars.

"Augis," it moaned. "Augis!" Louder and louder it wailed.

Zolon and Morul covered their ears. "And this is a tempest?" Zolon said facetiously.

"Let's adjourn until the storm passes. Perhaps we can find a meal the thing will accept." Morul turned and walked down a nearby corridor, toward the kitchen. Zolon followed close behind.

After they had left, the kobold stopped moaning and sat back on its haunches. Opening its small clawed fingers, the creature smiled. On its palm rested an iron key.

Bombcar

(30 December 2007)

++g~~U~~C+++

Goblins in tattered rags pulled the chains with speed as the whips cracked. Slowly the gate rose revealing a grotesque creature bent on destruction. Its three eyes bounced on their stalks as the monster pulled itself forward on two huge, muscular arms. It came to a sudden halt as Ameltoss the wizard stepped into its path. Though he had raised it from a stinking poisonous egg, the wizard knew not whether he still commanded the beast. This was the final test. He raised his staff and commanded the monster to return to its lair. The creature's lips peeled back to reveal ten rows of razor sharp teeth. Ameltoss swallowed hard and shouted his command once more. Now was the moment of truth.

Bott Maggot

(03 August 2007)

+&=o=@+

"You've come, Kogan. The Lordaxe. It is said you have a mighty constitution, but can you hold your own at my table?" The demon slammed the great flagon down on to the center of the table. A few dark drops splattered on the stone and smouldered.

"I can take whatever you offer, fiend, and I'll count you a poor host if that brew there on the table doesn't move me half as much as the whiskey of my homeland."

"Ah, your homeland. It will make a fine gateway to the Underworld someday."

"I wish I could say the dwarves would enjoy making a mine of this palace, but alas, your halls reek of filth. It would be difficult to persuade them."

"Less talk, more drink. You call yourself a dwarf?"

Without another word, Kogan seized the flagon with his scarred fist. He could feel the infernal heat emanating from the brew, and the smell was appalling. Even so, he hefted the drink to his open mouth and downed it completely, setting the empty flagon on the table in triumph.

Brownie210

(22 December 2008)

+&@\O+||~~~~~~~~~

Sweat glistened on the hairy dwarf's body as he wrestled the dark lord Slandar. Above them lay the steel orifice holding back the sea of lava that was the last defense against the evil army, if only a dwarf could pull the lever. The dwarf held the evil general's arm in both hands as the fiend tried to drive his dagger through the hero's heart.

"Slandar," asked the dwarf, "when did you become so hot-headed?"

The dwarf let go of the villain's arm and pulled the lever. As the fiend drove his blade through the laughing dwarf's heart, the gates opened above and a torrent of lava fell from the ceiling, incinerating them both in a cloud of steam.

Caeonosphere

(07 January 2008)

,.U-.,.GT.

The mighty barbarian clenched his teeth as he snapped the arrow protruding from his chest. He laughed as he bounded through the brush after the cowardly ambusher. Just another scar among many, proving his manhood like all the rest. The foolish goblin archer tried to scale a tree to lose him. Smiling with anticipation of the kill, the barbarian took a throwing axe from his belt and hurled it at his enemy. The blade struck the goblin in the helmet, splitting it in two. As the stunned goblin sank to the base of the tree, the barbarian approached him, grabbing him by the throat.

"Well, my friend," said the barbarian. "It looks as if this game has come to an end."

Davion

(28 July 2008)

bBbBbBbB####HU*########||+UU+||

The master thief leapt from the tower, the royal jewels still in his hands. The pursuing guard ran to the side to watch in wonder as the burglar plunged to his death. But lo, a giant hawk flew down and plucked him out of the sky. The aging king stormed out onto the roof of the tower, still in his bed clothes.

"Curse you Faltrix!" screamed the king as the bird flew toward the horizon.

The rogue had known the hawk since it was a hatchling. It was then he had pulled an arrow from its wing. Thus began the most famous partnership of the age. The hawk rider and his steed were known throughout the land as heroes of the people, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor.

A dark cloud rose on the horizon. The smile fell from Faltrix's lips as the evil creatures sprung their ambush. Bat men! How had these creatures strayed so far from the mountains? The evil beings rode giant bats and shot poison darts from their blow guns. Faltrix commanded his mount to dive low. Perhaps he could lose them in the trees of the forest below.

(28 September 2008)

kbkkbkb,..,..HU,..*.@,...

Down, down into the forest canopy they flew. Faltrix's heart raced as they wove through the trees, the bat men close behind. Just when he thought he lost them, the hawk called out with a piercing cry. A net of vines dropped from the treetops above, fouling the bird's wings. They crashed to the forest floor with a thud and slid forward in the dirt. Faltrix drew his sword and cut through the web. High-pitched cackling echoed from above. Kobolds! The rogue set about cutting his avian steed free, but the hawk did not stir from unconsciousness.

"Agron!" screamed Faltrix. "Agron!"

Black shadows dropped from vines above. The kobolds drew their jagged blades. As they surrounded him the batmen caught up just it time to finish him off. A dozen poison darts landed at his feet. Why didn't they kill him?

"Agron," said the rogue, "if we get out of this, you can eat all the giant rats you want."

The kobolds parted to reveal a short wizard in a glowing red robe, a long hood covering his face. Faltrix lowered his blade as the menacing figure approached. The wizard threw back his hood to reveal the face of an evil dwarf. Faltrix threw the stolen Eye of Atheria at his feet.

"Take the jewel," said Faltrix, "just let Agron live."

"Touching," said the dwarf, "but fear not, I will have need of the rider and his hawk to complete the ultimate quest."

"Quest?" asked Faltrix.

Ergot

(14 June 2007)

""w"w@%"w"w

Doran shifted from foot to foot as he looked from side to side. Eventually the dwarf's head dropped and he clutched his beard, his wide eyes wild, staring at the dirt. They were everywhere.

"Cave weevils. Cave weevils on my crops. My pig tails, all of my pig tails are gone. But this season will be different, mark my words, by the Lordaxe it will." The dwarf pulled a bulky glove from his belt. The knuckles were studded with iron. Doran slid the glove over his hand, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile. The farmer's eyes grew dark.

One of the foot-long insects crawled in front of the dwarf, and he hammered it into the earth with his fist, smashing the weevil until it was well-ground. "Flat. I'll pound 'em all flat. We might not have cloth this year, but we'll have plenty of meal."

Furiousfish

(14 July 2007)

++@g####

"Tell me where the child is being taken and I'll let you live!" Kogan yelled down at the goblin, desperation marking his voice. Mul had shot this wretch in the leg, but the kidnapper had escaped. The goblin hanging by Kogan's hand over the chasm was just a bodyguard. The goblin smiled wickedly, taking delight in Kogan's distress. "Even now, your child is approaching the prison where he'll live out the next decade of his miserable life," it spat. "And then, well..." The fiend began to chuckle. "Where is the child?" Kogan asked with finality. The goblin closed its eyes and was silent. Kogan let the creature drop away into the darkness.

(27 February 2008)

","".g%@.",""."..

Dorol struggled against the coarse sackcloth. The darkness was total,and it smelled even more foul than his uncle's rotten-toothed whiskeybreath. He had been playing with his miniforge by the cave river when everything had gone black. Dorol had heard a commotion shortly after, followed by terrible undwarven screaming, but afterward just the soft footfalls of somebody running quickly along with the rustling of the sack. At once, whoever was carrying him stopped and let the sack drop hard on the ground. There was a rustling, and the sack opened. It was nighttime, and Dorol could see the face of his captor looking down at him. A goblin! The fiend pulled the cloth down far enough that Dorol's head stuck up out of the opening. The dwarf held tightly onto his toy, uncertain and afraid. "Here, eat this," the goblin said, holding out something. Dorol worked one of his hands out of the sack and took the offering. It wasa piece of spoiled meat, crawling with diseased larvae. The child dropped it on the ground by the sack. "Hey, that's good meat," the goblin complained, reaching down to pick it up. "The master gave it to me just for you." The goblin lowered its voice and mumbled. "I'd eat it, but he is always watching me, and he knows when I've been bad. "Now eat up," the goblin drew closer and pushed the meat into the dwarf's face. Like a true smith, the dwarven child struck, smashing the hammer of his miniforge into the goblin's eye! The goblin cringed, clutching his face. After a moment he shook his head and looked up at the sack, but the dwarf was nowhere to be seen. Filling with rage, driven by fear of his master's torments, the goblin shouted, "You can't run, you hairy snot! I'll hunt you, and I'll find you!" Snatching up the sack, the goblin ran off into the wilds.

Fuzzy

(31 October 2008)

.,G,@,,.

The dwarves buried Administrator Zarhan face down, so that when evil spirits animated his soulless corpse, as surely they would, he would dig straight down into the Underworld and away from the land of the living. For a season after, the fortress was beset by a horrible howling that filled the corridors. The dwarves of the fortress were driven to near madness. Eventually the sounds faded.

It was not long after that a young engraver found a floor hatch, which had not been there the previous night. He opened the hatch and put his head through. Phantom arms grabbed him and pulled him inside.

"You fools didn't think I'd forget up from down did you?" hissed the ghost of Zarhan.

Hellzon

(17 December 2007)

,.@@~~o~~~

A rock plopped into the cave river from the platform above. There Durgal and the dwarf girl sat, above the murky waters. Durgal explained, in great detail, his plans for the future. When the riches of the mountain were plundered, he would diagram the plans for a second fortress himself. How the dwarves would love him!

"But in your haste for riches," asked the girl, "would you have time for the ones you love?"

Durgal's face became red as a cave turnip. He looked quickly away from her and stared into the dark water. There, eyes gazed up to meet him. Durgal reached for his axe, telling the girl to warn the others. A pale, slimy hand reached out of the depths and pulled the creature upward. It was an olmman!

(3 September 2008)

ff,@,.@,o~~~~~

"Back!" cried Durgal, "back to the hall!" The dwarf girl turned and screamed. Two blind cave fish men blocked the way out. Durgal turned and swung his axe at the olmman, now completely out of the water. It deftly dodged his panicked swings. The dwarf girl screamed as the cave fish men crawled toward her, arms outstretched, feeling their way along the floor.

"By the power of the Lordaxe!" screamed Durgal, holding his axe aloft. The dungeon rumbled. The sound of water crashed through the tunnel. The fighters were swept away. The olmman grabbed Durgal's axe arm as they were washed through the watery tunnel. The dwarf pulled a dagger from his belt and jammed it into the monster's guts.

"Gula!" cried Durgal, bursting above the surface of the water. He pulled the axe free of the olmman's grasp and brought the pommel down on its head, knocking it senseless. "Gula!" he cried again. With sudden terror, Durgal recalled where this tunnel led -- the chasm. Only a few seconds until the ultimate terrible plunge.

"Durgal!" cried the dwarf girl, Gula. With all his strength, he stretched to reach her in the crashing water.

Janus

(12 October 2006)

BgB
B@g
gBB

Beak dogs and goblins surround the adventurer! What will happen next?!

(13 February 2007)

gg...
.B.B=
..BB.
.%B@/
.-...

One of the five beak dogs pounced. Rogar leapt, planting a foot on the beast's head and propelling himself toward the tattoed goblin. Just as they collided, Rogar planted his dagger through the goblin's left eye. They hit the ground hard, and Rogar rolled forward to his feet, spinning to face the remaining eight opponents. The beak dog he had jumped on was still shaking its head, wincing. Behind them stood a wiry goblin with a wild mane of maroon hair, brandishing a scimitar, and a lardy goblin holding an iron-studded club.

The beak dogs charged Rogar in unison. His dagger was stuck back in the twitching goblin's face, but weaponless he stood his ground before them. The first dog to reach him received Rogar's knee under its chin, the long cruel spike at the top of the warrior's half-greave piercing the creature's throat. Two more beak dogs reached him as he twisted his leg in the air, trying to free it from his bleeding adversary. The beasts slammed into him, one getting a hold of his right arm above the elbow, the other gnashing at his face. Before it could tear his nose off, Rogar grabbed it by the neck with his left hand and held it back. The other dog sank its beak deeper into the flesh of Rogar's arm. Could this be the end?!

(5 May 2007)

|+@g+++

Rogar awoke in pain, his wrists in chains, his wounded arm throbbing. He opened his eyes only to be greeted by an all-encompassing darkness. This must be Shalthidon's dungeon, which meant that he was locked inside the Tower of Hate from which no man had ever returned.

A dim light flickered some distance away, and he could see the silhouetted bars of his prison. Beyond them, shadows danced, and he heard a grating sound. The bars slid aside, and the lardy goblin waddled into the chamber holding a torch.

The foul creature stood below Rogar where he hung, an idiot grin perking up the otherwise sagging jowls of its bloated face.

"The master says you are to be entertained," it croaked as it continued to smile.

"I do not desire such pleasures as Shalthidon has to offer," Rogar answered. "Be off with you. The larder has grown lonely."

"The master says you are to feel the fire," the thing chortled. The goblin lifted the torch and took a step toward Rogar.

It was enough. Rogar lashed out with his legs, hooking them around the goblin's neck. In a feat of strength that would become legend, Rogar strained against the chains on his arms, lifting the massive goblin and all its corpulence from the floor. There was a sickening crack, and the fixtures in the ceiling gave way. Rogar fell into the goblin's lardy folds, pushing away desperately until he regained his feet, ready to fight, but the goblin was already dead with a broken neck.

Fortunately, the torch had not been smothered. The warrior picked it up and held it high. There was nothing else in the cell. Aside from the chains, the torch was his only possession. Now it's the master who'll be entertained, Rogar thought, as he strode out into the passageway.

(7 August 2007)

@+++"E"

Rogar strode toward the great iron doors, leaving a trail of blood that was not his own. In his hand he held a scimitar and from each of his wrists the chains still hung. All of the servants of Shalthidon that lurked within the Tower of Hate were now dead, save whatever was in this room at the pinnacle of the tower. The sword he had seized from the maroon-maned goblin, who had led the goblins in the tower barracks.

The warrior pushed hard on the iron doors and they opened inward with a groan. There, surrounded by brightly colored flowers, was an elf. The sun shone down on the tower top through windows in the elegant curved ceiling. The entire room sparkled.

"Are you a prisoner here? Where is Shalthidon?" Rogar asked urgently.

The elf chuckled pleasantly. "Child, Rogar, I am Shalthidon. My parents named me Lilarilqua, but my attempts to hold the goblins under my sway with that name met with disaster. Are you cold? Let me fetch you something warm." Shalthidon fished around under a dresser and pulled out a plush cloak with lacy frills. "The material was all offered freely from the feather trees, Rogar. You don't have to worry about the animals."

Rogar was still stunned. Shalthidon, the Bringer of Ruin, murderer of his parents, lord of the evil of the creeping wastes that had engulfed half the world, was an elf. Dispelling the cloud over his mind, the warrior focused. That will only make killing him all the more satisfying, he thought. Rogar lifted his blade and advanced.

Kosmos

(11 September 2007)

T+TT@C +

"Twist my arm, why don't you? You louse," Doran had complained as Bomtek continued to bother him.

"Come on, Doran! It's just a bottle of whiskey. The Baron won't miss it. When you deliver his table, just take a little something for yourself. And share it with me."

Now Doran was standing in the Baron's dining room. It already had a fine granite table at its center; the noble had just wanted an obsidian corner piece as an accent. As the dwarf set the table down, Bomtek's repeated needling suggestions still echoed in his mind. It was just one bottle. There are so many in the cabinet. The Baron won't miss just one of them.

The dwarf had to pass the cabinet on the way out. With every step toward it, he felt the whiskey within calling in his heart. Doran's face flushed hot and his stomach felt as if it were being squeezed and twisted. Maybe I'll just look, he thought. Just look and go. He reached out his hand and gently opened the cabinet's door. There was only one bottle inside. Bomtek, you fool, he thought. Yet the whiskey still beckoned him forward, and he continued to gaze on the bottle in silence as it drew him ever closer.

Laod

(15 October 2006)

T..o..T

Trolls are playing dodgeball with a boulder!  Who will win?!

--Laod 15 October 2006

MacGyvers_Mullet

Rognar:(11 November 2007)

%%%@%%%,../.,\

The sword slid through the goblin's throat and the dying creature fell to the ground sputtering. Rognar had been born into a world of violence, and he would not share it with these stinking beasts. Striding upon their unnumbered broken bodies, the warrior reached the summit of the corpse mound and surveyed the carnage. The siege had been broken. Here and there, a wimpering slave of darkness put up resistance or simply clung to life, but soon they would all be vanquished and the sun would bring a glorious dawn to the blood-red battlefield. Rognar smiled. It was a great day to be a dwarf.

-Tarn

Neandar Begin:(3 July 2008)

!!()!!,k,...@,..#######||

He would never let the fiend escape again. That was what Neandar the dwarf thought before he flung himself into the black air of the chasm after the skulking kobold thief. For many seconds they fell, time enough for Neandar to recall his short life and short career on the Fortress Guard. Wet matter slammed into the dwarf's face and gave way. The dwarf smashed through a dozen giant spider webs and hit the ground running, hot on the trail of the kobold scum.

A huge standing ring of fire dominated the floor of the chasm. The kobold made for the hell portal with all speed. Neandar stopped in his tracks. It was one thing to plunge to certain death in order to retrieve a granite puzzle box. It was quite another to cast oneself into a dimension of ultimate evil. Yet these kobold cowards could not be allowed to run about as they pleased. Lifting his axe over his head, the dwarf charged into the portal of doom.

-Zach

McDoomhammer

(6 May 2008)

T,.ggUggg..TT------,TT,.T.U.UU.,..TTT

The three chosen warriors left the Citadel of Hope, strapped on with all manner of magic weapons that the Council of Elders had presented them. Shizenbubin was the tracker of the group, always hot on the trail of danger. Shizentubin was her sister, skilled in the ways of the blade so that no enemy neck was safe. Azoul Buck was the leader. She ran her fingers through her short blond hair, her muscular arm flexing, covered with the crude tattoos of her tribe.

This would be a short quest indeed. A party of goblins had ambushed the prince on his way to the castle. All the heroes need do is return him unspoiled. It would be easy to intercept them then on their way to the Black Fortress, given Shizenbubin's incredible skill. However, time was not on their side. Goblins grew bored easily and might make sport of the prince's bodily members. Azoul set the pace, a quick trot through the woods. She smiled at the easily-won glory that awaited her squad at the end of the journey.

Md5i

(12 May 2007)

##.,.||+++@+|

"That ought to keep 'em out," Doran said confidently, patting the granite block which he had just slid into place. Ever since the Baron had insisted on mining out the gold vein in the wall, Doran had been dealing with the rats. It couldn't be helped. Gold was gold after all, but it was just Doran's luck that the miners had broken through to a large chasm not far from the craftsdwarf's room.

The dwarf laid down on his bed and began to think about the next project. A puzzlebox, perhaps, something challenging. Just as Doran was drifting off into dreams of the design, he heard a scratching on the block.

"Ha! Keep trying you little demons," the dwarf chuckled. The scratching continued. It was irritating, but the dwarf could block it out. Then there was a grating scrape as the block moved an inch. The dwarf sat up and stared at the wall in amazement. Impossible, he thought.

The block slid forward further. Small, clawed fingers worked their way around the stone until a gray, furry hand grasped one corner of the block. The stone turned slightly.

Doran seized his chisel from the nearby table and leapt toward the block, stabbing downward. The tool grazed the hand, leaving a spatter of blood on the stone. There was a shriek, and the bleeding hand disappeared into the dark crack.

The craftsdwarf pushed the block back into place and backed away, chisel in hand. After a moment, the scratching began anew.

(07 Jun 2007)

##.,.||%r%+@+|

"Leave me be, you fiend!" Doran yelled, his chisel held toward the stone block. The scratching became louder and more persistent.

Once again, the block moved, but this time no fingers poked through the crack. The beast had learned. The slab of granite was being pushed directly from behind, and it glided slowly toward Doran. The dwarf backed toward his bed.

The block stopped sliding. There was now enough space to allow something to pass through the hole in the wall, but the block was large and Doran could not see behind it. For a long moment, nothing stirred. The craftsdwarf knelt and opened the chest by the foot of his bed, muttering.

At once, a creature leapt from behind the block and faced Doran. It was a ratman, ravening, its long yellow incisors surrounded by froth, its patchy-furred flesh stretched tight over its starved body. The thing hungered and would have Doran for its meal.

The dwarf stood, a vial in his hand. The ratman lunged forward and Doran hurled the vial at the beast's face. The glass shattered, and the creature clutched its black protruding eyes as they steamed. Doran rushed forward and stabbed the ratman repeatedly with the chisel until it stopped moving.

"Pity about that. I was going to ask Mul to do some etchings for me."

(15 Jul 2007)

##===@=D####

"Yes, I'm sorry, Mul, it would have been a thrilling project," Doran said, pausing to take another swig of whiskey. "I can't believe how much trouble we've been having with ratmen lately."

"Perhaps there's a larger beast down in the chasm riling them up," Mul replied. "Kogan's child was taken not long ago."

"Yes, surely something unusual is afoot."

Meanwhile, Kogan stood with his axe by the chasm bridge. Ever since the boy Aliz had been lost, the soldier had tirelessly patrolled the walkways along the deepest parts of the rift, killing dozens of ratmen and a few large spiders. He would not be satisfied until the depths were devoid of life.

A foul wind blew up from the chasm. Kogan leaned to the side and peered down over the edge of the bridge. The impact was sudden and the dwarf was knocked on his back in the middle of the bridge. Kogan heard the sound of stone being scraped without respect, and he.found himself staring into the rotten eyes of a giant decaying reptile.

Midelne

Fish Dwarf Begin: (6 August 2007)

~~@~~X

They called him Fish-Dwarf. He was the only worker in the outpost willing to brave the depths of the cave river in order to service the floodgate mechanisms when they became clogged with the seasonal muds.

It was that time again. The farming gates weren't operational, and the planting had to begin immediately. Fish-Dwarf had his tools, and the special fins he had manufactured were secured to broad feet. Everything was ready. The frightened faces of the onlooking children would not dissuade him. Fish-Dwarf understood that this was his calling. He was the only one that could save the outpost. The dwarf inhaled, and his chest swelled to nearly double its original size. Clearing his mind, the dwarf dove into the water.

(8 November 2007)

~~~@%X

Fish-Dwarf swam down the narrow tunnel to the gate mechanism. The water was murky and even with his superior vision he could only just see his hands sweeping ahead of him.

The upper portion of the mechanism appeared suddenly before him. The dwarf inspected the machinery quickly, mindful of his air, yet confident that he had at least a few minutes left. The top assembly was clear, so the mud must have worked itself into the lower gears. Fish-Dwarf pushed his way down.

The swollen rotting face of a lizardman greeted him, twisted into the gears. Not again, Fish-Dwarf thought, dejected. It would take at least three trips to dislodge all of the chunks. The dwarf removed the chisel from his tool case and began working it into the sticking jam.

(10 December 2007)

+@@+@@@+~~~~~

"Fish-Dwarf, you have saved us!" the children shouted as the wet dwarf pulled his way up on to the bank. He had finished his last cleaning run, and already the floodgate was rising, ushering in the waters that would prepare the way for the summer harvest.

"Truly, Fish-Dwarf, your mastery of the murky depths never ceases to amaze us. You are a hero," the Mayor Kogan said, offering Fish-Dwarf a mug of the outpost's best.

"I am glad I could help," Fish-Dwarf said, draining the mug in one motion. "If only the river waters were whiskey, my life would be complete."

"I fear we would never see you again if that were the case!" the Mayor jested.

Fish-Dwarf pondered a moment. "Indeed. Yet the search for the Whiskey River is a quest for the young, I'm afraid."

"We here at Gladanvil are happy to have you," the Mayor replied as the crowd dispersed. As the others left, the mayor pulled Fish-Dwarf aside.

"-- and yet, I fear you cannot stay long. I've received word from King Dorazar. He has heard tell of your talents, and our liaison from the Mountainhome has conveyed his request for your presence at the capital."

"My presence? Surely the engineers of the Mountainhome can manage the mighty floodgates and channels of Steelpoint without my help."

"It isn't farming trouble, Fish-Dwarf," the Mayor said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Many fisherdwarves have been lost to the waters. There is something lurking in the Lake of Columns."

(18 January 2008)

~~~@/~~%OB%OO%%%~~

Innumerable stalactites hung from the ceiling of the expansive gem-lit cavern, many dipping down through the still surface of the black waters. This was the Lake of Columns, the source of life for Steelpoint, and now a place of dread.

Fish-Dwarf fit the blades into place on his fins. The citizens of Steelpoint did not know what the creature was, but no fewer than seven fisherdwarves had been lost at the shore. No matter, thought Fish-Dwarf. King Dorazar had charged him to slay the lurking threat, and that is what he would do. Still, the nature of the creature eluded him. It had been years since his last combat with an aquatic beast, and then it was only the cave crocodiles and lizardmen that occasionally harassed his own community. Steelpoint would not have sent for him over such a triviality. Hefting his mighty trident, Fish-Dwarf nodded to the gathered onlookers before leaping into the lake.

The water was clear, and he could see the broad columns well ahead of him down to where they joined the submerged floor of the cavern. Behind any of these formations, the beast could lurk.

There! Nestled between three columns was a gigantic bloated form on the lake bottom. Fish-Dwarf swam closer, almost drifting. What manner of beast was this? Great tentacles it had, and a toothy maw which flopped open as it slumbered, surrounded by half-consumed bodies of the dead.

Fish-Dwarf was almost upon it now, his trident lifted above his head as he sank slowly toward the sleeping fiend. As he prepared to strike, the lurid thing's lone eye flashed open.

(15 May 2008)

------------------------
~~~~~~~~~~~@/~%~~~~~~~~~
------------------------

Tentacles lashed out, looping around Fish-Dwarf's torso and pinning his arms to his chest. A force stronger than any he had ever experienced crushed his ribs and a stream of bubbles shot from his mouth as the breath was squeezed from his body. Fish-Dwarf desperately slashed at the tentacles with his fin blades and as his vision faded to black he saw that the water was thick with curling purple ribbons of the foul beast's tainted blood. The monster's grip loosened and Fish-Dwarf was able to free his arms. His sight had not returned, but when he stabbed his trident downward, he felt it sink deep into the creature. The monster's body convulsed and it raced into the open water, Fish-Dwarf still clinging to the imbedded weapon.

I cannot let go so long as I cannot see, or I will surely be devoured, Fish-Dwarf thought, though the beast continued on into the depths at such speed that the diver could not maintain his bearings, and suddenly in the back of his mind arose a strange sensation... it was the need for air, such as he had not experienced for many years. A tingling came to his throat and nose, and his head began to feel numb as he became more desperate for breath, and yet slowly, his vision was returning.

The beast slowed, its energy spent, and it settled on to the lake bottom, unmoving. Fish-Dwarf jammed the trident into it a few times; the thing was dead. Now, the surface! Fish-Dwarf pulled his weapon from the monster and swam upward, but he stopped immediately. As far as he could see in the now-dark water, a smooth ceiling of limestone greeted him. The monster had fled into a great crack in the lake bottom, so far and so deep that the light from the gem lamps was no longer visible. Just the endless water and rock of the submerged tomb of Fish-Dwarf, he thought, as he chose a direction and swam.

Fish Dwarf End: (1 July 2008)

,@!,.~~~~~~~~

He had chosen the wrong direction. Either that or the beast had dragged Fish-Dwarf so far into the mountain that the fires of the underworld were closer than the light of the lamps. His breath was long since gone -- moving forward was all that could keep him from panicking. After every few kicks, the dwarf would reach up to feel the limestone. If anything, the rock was closing in. No... what's this? His hand curled up around a sharp corner. Fish-Dwarf grabbed it firmly with both hands and pulled, launching himself upward.

The dwarf fully expected to meet a wall of rock, but instead he glided freely until at long last he broke the surface of the water, gasping for air. As the dwarf calmed down, he realized that he could still see nothing. He felt walls close by in all directions, as if he had just swum up a shaft, though there was a ledge overhanging the water on to which he could haul himself and rest his weary body. Fish-Dwarf passed in and out of consciousness for a time, perhaps an hour, before he sat up and assessed his situation.

He could dive back into the water with his lungs full of air and try to find the lamps, now unmolested by great underwater beasts, but he did not relish the idea of leaving the entrance to the shaft behind in total darkness as he explored the crevice below. The only alternative was to feel his way along the walls from this ledge above the grotto. These limestone mountains were laced with natural caverns and after a brief exploration of the surrounding stone he found this hollow was no exception -- there was a mud-slicked passage that ran into the mountain. Without hesitation, Fish-Dwarf struck out into the cavern.

-- How long since he had started on this dreary journey? Though the mud was often thick, Fish-Dwarf had not trudged through so much as a puddle these many days. He thirsted for spirits, nay, even water, and he longed to swim again. The dwarf had long since abandoned his fins and other equipment as they encumbered him too much on the march. Every so often, he imagined he saw the gem lamps ahead, though it could just as easily be the cooking fires of a goblin encampment, or some darker torture, as the lights of the capital he sought. There they were, even now... lights! Or light at least, the barest speck in the distance ahead. Fish-Dwarf moved swiftly, no longer plodding, still careful of the stalactites but driving forward rapidly all the same. The speck became an opening, and he could see the mud of the passage floor illuminated in the distance, with stone walls further beyond. Only a few more steps...

The cavern opened out upon a rocky river valley in a canyon sheer to the greatest heights yet welcoming the noon-day sun. The entrance where Fish-Dwarf stood was at the bottom of the cliffs a short walk down pebble-laden slopes to the stream below. Instantly, Fish-Dwarf could tell that these were no ordinary waters. They were the color of honey, yet the current flowed rapidly. And the aroma! The intoxicating aroma! There was no question in his mind. Whether it fell from the throne of some inebriated sky god and vanished into the underworld to besot the armies of hell made no difference, for here, in this world, in this very mountain range, ran the slightest stretch of the Whiskey River. His mind unencumbered by thoughts of duty or home, Fish-Dwarf made his way down to the riverside to drink his fill.

Hunger Begin (11 June 2008)

,..,.++U+,.+,.+U~U||

Suffering blighted the land with cruel hunger. Wagons brought foul fungus from the dwarven mountains. It was barely enough to sustain those base enough to eat such filth. The rest died. Paldadar rested against the hilt of his great sword. He looked over his shoulder at the dark stone castle. Turning his back on mud brick huts, the knight passed by the scraggly bearded guards and entered the keep.

Form a high window, bright, mocking sunlight shone across the dark wooden throne and the troubled king that sat upon it. The old man reached for his cup, and after taking a sip, spat the vile dwarven brew unto the stone floor. A herald in a mud-smattered tunic rushed to wipe up the spill, but seeing the knight, rose to confront him.

"You were not summoned, Sir Paldadar," spit the herald. "Go ask the peasants instead of begging the king for scraps from the royal table."

"Silence, Rodger," said the king.

The herald jumped away like a whipped dog. The king motioned the knight to come forward.

"The gods have abandoned this place," said the king. "Only through their glory will the days of bounty return. It is for this reason you must smite the heathen Farthlings where they dwell across the river. When their land is in ruin, the gods at last will favor us."

The knight ground his teeth. This was obviously High Priest Igland's doing. But perhaps there was wisdom in punishing the arrogant Farthlings for their many insults. Death by the sword was much preferable to slow certain death by starvation.

(17 June 2008)

==?T?====,.UH,.U

As Paldadar walked away from the keep, peasants averted their hungry faces. He was still a knight, even if he represented the most wretched of kingdoms. A frail sissy approached from behind, leading two horses. Paldadar swung around, drawing his sword. There stood Rodger, wearing the snottiest of faces, his nose in the air.

"By the will of the king," he hissed, "I am to be your squire."

Paldadar prayed to the gods for mercy. Would that a Farthling's bolt find his heart soon that he be saved from further tortures. Together the pair made their way to the Temple of Love, where High Priest Igland waited to bless their holy crusade.

The temple was built on a tall hill, a ring of marble columns surrounding an enormous stone stele, pricking the sky with its majesty. All around the temple, peasants scrambled to snatch at the scraps donated by the monks that poured rotten food down the hill. As Paldadar entered the temple, he was surrounded by fat priests and priestesses that danced around him in a grotesque, undulating display.

The knight refused a cup of offered wine, which Rodger snatched up and drank freely.

At the center of the temple, High Priest Igland stood, wearing nothing save a red loincloth.

"When you wake in the morning," said Igland, "consider Love."

"Many happy couplings," said Paldadar as was the prescribed response.

"You must put an end to the Farthling menace," said the priest, growing angry. "If their God of Suicide spreads his faith to our kingdom, none of our desperate peasants will survive. You must strike the heart of their kingdom and burn their temple to the ground."

Paldadar made the gesture of obedience and departed, pulling Rodger away from the cavorting priests.

The kingdom of the Farthlings was separated from the kingdom of Love by the River of Sorrow, whose wide fast-moving waters could only be crossed in one place. This was the Bridge of Destiny. As the riders approached, Rodger twitched with fear and apprehension, for it was said the bridge was guarded by an evil water troll. At the bridge, Paldadar held up his gauntleted hand. The horses stopped, and the knight dismounted. Paldadar drew his sword and walked out onto the wooden planks.

(3 July 2008)

%,..%,.|%.,.UH,%..%%UH,,%.~%,..(%).,.%|,..%

Green flames shot up from beneath the bridge. Horrid laughter pealed across the blighted landscape. The knight turned to see Rodger making tracks back to the temple with the speed of a spooked hare. Slowly Paldadar looked over his shoulder to see the enormous bloated troll, dripping with slime and black pus.

"You seek to pass into the land of suicide bearing the message of love," said the troll. "What will you tell them, knight? Is slow certain death by starvation superior than the final empowering choice?"

"Where there is life, there is hope," said Paldadar. "Love will overcome all obstacles!"

"Spoken like a true student of Igland," said the troll, assuming a martial pose.

As Paldadar cut the monster down, his mind was wracked with doubt. Was the nation of love superior? He hailed from a place where young people sold themselves for scraps of bread and yet he sought to bring hope to a strange country. He found Rodger hiding in a nearby bush and hauled him, protesting, across the bridge.

The land of the Farthlings was lush and green compared to the land of love. Cherry blossoms rained down on the two riders as they wound their way through the hills. Even in these pleasant surroundings, the demented nature of the Farthlings soon became evident. Bodies dotted the road here and there, swords plunged into their own guts. Corpses hung in the trees from hastily-tied nooses, over eager to take their own lives. As the riders passed, skeletal bodies lifted themselves from the grass to watch them saunter on.

"Make babies, make babies, make babies," babbled Rodger, madly reciting the Charm of Making.

At last they reached the capital of the Farthlings. The wind blew red rose petals through the cold, dead streets. Even the cheerful sun seemed dim in the vast tomb of a city. Rodger stared straight ahead as they made their way to the keep, careful not to look into the dark doorway, behind which ominous rustlings could be heard.

The flag of Farthlingland flew above the ramparts of the citadel. At the base of the wall lay the piles of bones of those who had hopelessly thrown themselves over the side. A wide moat circled the castle. As the two riders approached, a draw bridge was lowered over the water. Paldadar thought he could see a crowned figure on the wall beckoning them inside. As they crossed the bridge, Rodger made the mistake of looking down into the water. The currents were filled with the souls of those who drowned themselves in desperate sorrow. Eyes shut tight, Rodger hugged the neck of his horse, and followed Paldadar into the gate.

onodera

(01 November 2008)

"",",.@,.T,"""

"Don't let the sun set on you in the Dark Wood," said the dwarf crones. "Ole Brick-a-Branch will get you." Nonsense, thought young Davik as he rode his mule along the twisting green deer path. The darkness came quickly as the sun slipped behind the trees. As he set about making a fire, Davik pondered the dark tales of Brick-a-branch and his mischief.

Not even the elves dared enter the Wood at night. Something older than time haunted these cursed trees, but this valley was the quickest way to Port City, saving at least a month of travel. As the night grew darker and colder, Davik fumbled in his pack to retrieve the charms and idols he had nearly refused as the journey began.

A great shape emerged from the darkness. It was a gnarled troll, as old as the hills. It picked up Davik by the ankle.

"Not much meat here," it said.

"Please, Ole Brick-a-Branch, don't eat me," said Davik.

Having said his name, the troll was force to lay the dwarf down.

"I will not eat you," said the monster, "If you can answer me these riddles three."

Peristarkawan

(16 May 2007)

=@()++@

Doran stirred the bubbling pot of syrup. It was ready! "Pour, pour, pour!" the dwarf sang. Into the molds the syrup flowed. "Another batch," the dwarf said, satisfied.

Just then, he noticed somebody standing in the doorway. "Ah, Glornol. What brings you to the kitchens this early? Come to try a sticky treat? I have some Anvil Drops cooling now. Just a moment."

Doran turned to the tray on the table when he was startled by Glornol's shouting. "What is the meaning of this? Isn't there a war on?"

"Even soldiers need sticky treats, Glornol!" Doran picked up two chocolate goblins and began to speak in a high-pitched throaty voice.

"Ooo, it's Glornol!" the first chocolate goblin said.

"Glornol's scared of the mean, mean goblins!" the second chocolate goblin observed.

"Let's eat the dwarf! Yummies for tummies!" the first chocolate goblin offered.

"The dwarf might eat me instead! Oh no!" the second chocolate goblin replied. Doran held the goblin out to Glornol.

Glornol was not amused, but he snatched the candy from Doran's hand. "Hrmph," he grunted, and biting the goblin's head off, he walked out of the kitchen.

Qwip

(05 December 2006)

...@T@..###S#

Taking a break from their duty, the two guards sat at a table with a scenic view of the chasm. They did not notice as they drained their mugs that they were being watched from the shadows by clusters of pale eyes. A table by the chasm?! --Qwip 05 December 2006

(09 February 2007)

.@......####
...T@@~S####
.......#####

Dolan was chatting with Aliz about the health benefits of dwarven beer when Aliz disappeared. Dolan sprang to his feet and saw that Aliz was being dragged toward the chasm, a thick rope of translucent silk wrapped around his left ankle. At the lip of the chasm, a bloated form slowly reeled the line in with her spindly legs. Dolan knew immediately -- it was the Wolf-Mother of Darkness. He grabbed his axe and ran toward Aliz, who was now only a few more pulls from the beast.

As he was hauling ore to the magma smelter, the peasant Kogarak saw the situation, screamed, dropping his load, and ran toward the barracks. As he heard the sound of an axe ring against stone behind him, he wondered if he would make it in time.

— Qwip 08:40, 9 February 2007 (EST)

(18 April 2007)

@@@...@.####
@..T..@S####
.......#####

The axe had scored the stone floor where it had severed the silk line. The Wolf-Mother chittered angrily and pounced at Dolan, moving with surprising quickness. Dolan was knocked to the ground, the enormous body of the foul creature pressing him into the stone. His axe clanged some distance away. The blunt knobs at the end of the Wolf-Mother's forelegs dug into Dolan's ribs as her dripping mandibles drew closer to his face. He grabbed her head with both hands, trying desperately to keep her at bay. A foul-smelling spittle dripped on to his cheek.

Aliz, still dazed from his initial fall, slowly made his way to his feet. Seeing Dolan's desperate struggle, he drew his sword and hacked at one of the Wolf-Mother's legs. The bumpy skin was incredibly tough, but the steel blade left the appendage hanging by tatters. The Wolf-Mother belched a grating rasp and rolled away from Aliz and faced the dwarves. Dolan crawled toward his axe, but the nauseating venom drenching his face and beard had left him almost powerless. The Wolf-Mother hesitated, her wound oozing white ichor as Aliz stood his ground.

There were several sharp cracking noises, and the Wolf-Mother crumpled, several iron bolts protruding from her many eyes. In the distance stood Bomtek and the other marksdwarves, accompanied by Kogarak. Aliz rushed to Dolan. The dwarf was breathing heavily.

"My body feels like gravel. I need a drink," Dolan said.

"The Wolf-Mother is dead. Brace up. I'll bring you your mug." Aliz fetched Dolan's mug from the table and brought it to the dwarf where he lay on the stone floor. The mug was almost empty.

"The brood," Dolan whispered. "The night brood will come."

— Qwip 12:28, 14 May 2007 (EDT)

Rewolf31

(13 April 2007)

.B@.~~~

And so Alor, a wrestler of renown, found himself between a great boar and the wide river. For six days they struggled, and as the sun descended behind the hills on the evening of the seventh day, Alor finally collapsed in exhaustion. The boar spoke and said, "I too am tired. The sun has fallen. Let us rest." And so Alor and the boar slept, and the sun arose on the morning of the eighth day.

(21 July 2007)

,.,B@~,~,~

"Whiskey?" Alor asked the boar, holding up his flask. The wrestler had not spoken for a week.

"Gladly," the boar said, taking the flask up in its mouth. "You block my path to the river, and now you offer me your flask. Strange are the ways of your people."

"Your path? I was seeking to cross the river and found myself menaced," Alor said.

"The squirrels tell me I am a terror to behold when I am thirsty," the boar said as it drained the flask. "Do I menace you now?" The boar looked mild and plump. Indeed, the gentle creature reminded Alor of his daughter.

"No, I am not menaced. I am reminded of home," Alor said fondly. At that moment his stomach growled, for he had not eaten in some time.

"Hopefully I do not remind you of your dinner table," the boar laughed, "though it remains to be seen who would have the final mastery in our contest." Alor smiled broadly and the boar guided Alor to the ford, where they parted as friends.

(12 September 2007)

++@a@+

"Daddy! Daddy!" the little girl cried happily as she ran toward the mighty dwarf where he stood under the archway.

"I missed you, sweet pod!" Alor crouched down and lifted the child up to his shoulder, where she sat, beaming. "Have you been good while I was away?"

"I made a puzzle box. See!" The girl held out a soapstone box. The master craftsdwarf always started the young ones with the material since it required little strength to carve, though it crumbled easily. Even so, the box was quite exquisite.

"That's beautiful. Now let me see here..." Alor pressed a button and the lid popped open. There was nothing inside. "Hey, where's my treasure?" he said in mock indignation.

The girl took the box and made a series of complicated motions along the inside of the empty compartment. A second lid opened, revealing a piece of dwarven sugar candy. The child giggled and smiled broadly.

Alor scratched his head and laughed. Coren was only six, but she was already beyond him.

"Did you win, daddy?" Coren asked.

"Ah, the tournament? Yes, sweet pod, there hasn't been a dwarf born yet that can beat your father," Alor looked at the puzzle box. "At least not at wrestling. And you know what else?"

"What else, daddy? What else?"

"I met a talking boar and we became friends."

"Again?" Coren complained. "I want to meet your animal friends soon."

"I'll invite them over for your party next month. Until then, you have to work hard. Do you have a lesson today?"

"Yes. Mr. Goldlocket says he'll let me try marble today."

"Marble, eh? That's amazing. You really are your mother's daughter. I'll walk you to the shop." Together they strolled down the passageway. Alor admired the carvings and architecture, occasionally pointing an engraving out and explaining its history, though his daughter had heard it all before. It had been two months since he left for tournament, and the wrestler had missed his home very much.

"The three of us should have a feast tonight. What do you say?" Alor asked. Coren did not respond.

The dwarf looked down. His daughter was not there. She was not in the passageway. There was no sign of her.

"Goblins!" A scream echoed through the tunnels. "Goblins in the fortress!"

(18 September 2007)

,..|mBL@+++++++g+

"I'm sure she's in there," Alor said from his place behind the boulder where he looked down upon the rusted iron doors of Chatteltomb.

"We must act now, while there's still time," the boar urged. This was the same boar that Alor had befriended by the riverbank, and it now came to aid Alor in his time of need.

"The door is locked. Even with our combined strength, I doubt we can force entry," the leopard observed. This was the same leopard that Alor had befriended in the high grasses, and it also came to aid Alor in his time of need.

"Don't worry. The guards were drunk in the ravine below," the marmot announced as it scampered up the slope with the key in its mouth. This was the same marmot that Alor had befriended on the mountainside, and it came to aid Alor after promises of food.

"I've only challenged the depths of this black pit once in my life. It is a memory I have longed to forget, though it will serve me now," Alor said. "It sickens me that my daughter is kept there. The way to the dungeons will not be heavily guarded, as fear of this place keeps all but the foolish at bay. That said, the tower above is garrisoned with unnumbered horrors. If the alarm is raised, escape will be impossible."

The group made their way down to the entrance. With some effort, Alor forced the key into place. The great doors swung open with a grating noise, exposing a palpable darkness that hung heavy in the stale air like a fog of soot. The thick shadows were penetrated from beyond by sinister red lights which gave vague form to the smooth obsidian corridors.

Once all had passed into the tower, they closed the door behind them. "We can only hope it is not unusual for the doors to sound. Do you see anything?" Alor whispered to the leopard.

"Several doors down, a goblin is standing," the leopard spoke softly. "It has turned to face us. I don't think it can make us out yet, but its night eyes are almost as strong as my own. It is coming this way."

Indeed, Alor could barely make out twin spots of crimson shining in the distance. The dwarf felt the leopard slip from his side. In a moment, the crimson spots disappeared from view. No sound accompanied their departure. Alor and the others padded quietly forward, approaching the stairway and the dungeons below.

Senso

(29 April 2007)

<+@?++&~~

The wayward manager Aliz stepped quietly down the last flight of stairs into the lowest depths of the abandoned halls. The air of the room was stale and warm. The light of the dwarf's torch illuminated a stone pedestal, on which rested a gray book.

"The Tome of Suffering," Aliz whispered. In its blood-stained pages, the collected wisdom of countless outpost managers waited for his perusal. Never again would his charges starve. Never again would they complain for want of whiskey. Never again would Aliz have to consult the half-baked scribblings of his uncle Toran.

The ground shook and Aliz's ears were assailed by a deafening crash. When the dust cleared, the entire chamber was illuminated by a sinister red glow. In place of the far wall was a yawning pit filled with bubbling magma and flames. From the inferno came a betusked fiend, ravening, its slavering maw belching foul vapors through which stared its cruel bulging eyes. Its clawed hands kneaded the lardy folds of its corpulence as if it sought to make room for this latest morsel.

Aliz was terrified. The dwarf clutched the Tome to his chest. The horrific beast crouched by the magma pool, muttering in a grating whisper:

"It will be eaten. It will be eaten, the dwarf. Eaten. Eaten alive."

Shanty

(30 June 2007)

@@+U@

Rogar spun again and again, staring into the darkness. The scraping had begun all at once and it seemed to come from every direction. Nothing could be seen beyond the limit of the flickering torchlight.

There! A shadow moved slowly out of the darkness. It had the stature of a dwarf, but Rogar knew the outpost had been abandoned for decades. After a moment, the warrior could see clearly. The shuffling thing had no flesh. The bones of its feet clacked and slid across the stones. The dead were walking in this place.

There were more, many more. Rogar was completely surrounded. He held up his sword and turned from threat to threat. The dwarves were unarmed, with tatters of cloth hanging over their skeletal remains. Bits of beard were still visible stuck around their garments and their skulls. The dead stopped short of Rogar's weapon and stood completely motionless. There was no way the warrior could pass without forcing his way through.

The skeleton he had seen first raised its bony hand slowly, curling all of its fingers save one into its palm. Its index finger pointed toward Rogar. From somewhere within its skull, it emitted a long, low moan which ended in a hiss and faded into silence.

Spelguru

(19 November 2006)

..@.M.~~~~...

The adventurer, transformed into a ghoul by strange forces, crawls toward the Everlasting River of Curing, barely clinging to his life, such as it had become. Suddenly, from the ceiling dropped... Adamantine Man! Is there any hope?!

(19 December 2006)

...M.~~~~..".
.....@~~~~...
...."~~~~~...

Adamantine Man spoke and said, "Unfortunate stranger! You wish to cast off your affliction? Drink then, and be blessed."

So the adventurer drank. The soothing warmth of the water spread from the center of his body, out to his deformed fingers and toes. Without pain, they shifted and were set in their proper places, along with the other marks of the affliction. All was well.

The adventurer looked at Adamantine Man in awe and asked, "I am grateful, Adamantine Man, for I had been without hope. For years unnumbered, my people have deemed the River unapproachable. 'Adamantine Man is there', they said, and yet, I have found naught here but a generous host and the cure to all that ailed me. Tell me Adamantine Man, why are you so feared? I am humbled by your graciousness, but am I truly free from danger?"

Adamantine Man spoke for a second time and said, "Indeed, be not afraid. Your people regard me with terror, for they do not understand me, and verily, who among you can understand Adamantine Man, who does not understand himself?"

The adventurer bowed his head and said, "It is true. Even now I am unsettled, for though you have granted me renewed life asking for nothing, still, even now, I wish to leave and never return."

Adamantine Man spoke for a third time and said, "So it has always been. Go now in peace."

The adventurer left without looking back. Overjoyed, his family accepted him, no longer an outcast, and soon all in the land had heard that he who had once been tainted was made whole by the River.

Some years later, a man, broken in body, came to the adventurer's abode. "I seek your aid, for it is said that you who were once tainted were made whole by the River. Tell me, where is the River, that I might be restored?"

The adventurer looked at the man, and he said, "Adamantine Man is there. Be content now, as I shall never be again." The man departed, and the adventurer remained.

(25 March 2007)

The adamantine man story ended.

@-***=.T

The Pulson-9000 seared the sky trailing ion-energized purple lightning. The XZ-Trollmech Mk7 didn't stand a chance. Another contract, another payment. Rogar was the last dwarf of his village, and after many hardships had fallen into the tough life of a mercenary warrior. He had stolen his first fighting bot, but after three years he had enough money to build and repair his own. He spent his offtime tinkering, which soothed his still-dwarven heart.

For now though, he was in enemy territory. True, the contract was complete, but he had fought his way deep into the personal citadel of the vile cyber-modded troll Vanquidor in order to blow his Mk7 body to pieces, and now he had to laze through the bodyguards and sentry droids he hadn't already obliterated. The dwarf had very little ordinance remaining. Rogar put on his shades. Things were about to get hot, but he was cool as a sonic-fan. Time to fire it up! Yeah!

SupSuper

(19 April 2007)

+R@%+@+%

"Hya! Hya!" Kogan screamed as he careened around the corner astride Lomrin. He had acquired the giant rat from the dungeon master for a vial of liquid fire. It had been a barrel of laughs, especially after a mug or three.

As they passed the foodpile, Lomrin stopped suddenly to inspect a large plump helmet biscuit. Kogan flew over the rat's ears and landed on his beard, sliding to a stop at a pair of black leather boots. Kogan waited a moment for his head to clear, and then he rolled back on his bottom and stared up at the face of Mul. It had to be Mul.

"On a bender again, are we Kogan?" Mul admonished.

"We? I swear I haven't given Lomrin a drop!" Kogan said indignantly.

"I wouldn't be so sure..." Mul said, indicating the food stockpile with a nod of his head.

Kogan turned his head. Lomrin had pried the lid off of a whisky barrel. Only her rear legs and tail were now visible.

"She takes after her uncle Kogan!" Kogan beamed proudly. Mul knocked him down to the ground with a push from his foot.

Syndlig

(18 May 2007)

oU++@@

The man struggled against the chains. The dwarves stared at him, smiling in satisfaction.

"That should ward you off our treasures, human. Be glad we don't send for the Hammerer."

The human scoffed. "Ha! I may be a thief, but at least I'm not a dwarf. See how I tower above you! I may not have a trade, I may not have any notable achievements whatsoever, but I am still a man."

The blackbearded dwarf turned to his companion. "You know, Mul, I suppose we could call for the Hammerer. The Baron will understand. After all, it was the Baron's goblet we found in his pack."

The dwarf named Mul considered this. "The Hammerer could certainly give him a new perspective on life. From two or three handspans lower down, at that. Start at the ankles, perhaps?"

"I always preferred the kneecaps, myself," the blackbearded dwarf said as they turned to leave. "It's really up to Rashok to decide though."

Mul hummed in disappointed affirmation. "Hmm, Rashok gets to have all the fun doesn't he?"

"Wait! Don't leave, my little friends!" the man screamed as the dwarves disappeared through the iron gate.

The blackbearded dwarf poked his head back into the dungeon. "We'll spare some whiskey, don't worry!" He disappeared again.

"Watered down, of course..." Mul could be heard saying as their footfalls faded away.

The Toad Preservation Society

Toady One and ThreeToe are continuously working on Dwarf Fortress since 4 years ago (well, when that was that written, in early 2007). On the same Idea, the Toad Preservation Society is trying to bring a very modest but continuous support. One result of this support is that ongoing series of art rewards. Slowly a story unfolds. Of course, the main target for the donation is not to get the reward, but to show the Bay12Games team that we love their project and value their effort. So let's consider each bit of that series as a nice present.

(11 October 2006)

.M.@$.

Deep in the fortress, a lava man springs an ambush on the treasurer, who is happily counting coins. Could this be the beginning of the end?!

--The Toad Preservation Society, 11 October 2006

(12 November 2006)

######.....M#~~~
@..@@@......M~~~
######..M%$.#~~~

Hammered and burnt by molten fists, the treasurer collapsed. That will teach him to count coins near the magma flow. More lava men erupt from the magma as a fortress patrol enters the room, one of them the treasurer's wife. Fighting back tears, she screams in wild rage as the soldiers charge the beasts. Will vengeance prevail this terrible day?!

--The Toad Preservation Society, 12 November 2006

(5 December 2006)

..=#  #############~~~# %
[@.#########.%-.%.#~~~#  '
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Indeed, vengeance did prevail, though it was bought with the lives of soldiers. The Axedwarf Aloran, wife of the treasurer, grieves now over the charred body of her husband, her grief-stricken face shining red in the magma's light. Yet the lava men were only driven forth by rumors deep within the earth, ever rumbling now, ever approaching the lip of the glowing pit discovered by the miners not long after the bridging of the magma. The sound reached even the heart of the fortress, where Regukar the Mason has begun a mysterious construction. What fey mood has possessed Regukar?! Will Aloran's mourning be troubled by even greater dangers?!

--The Toad Preservation Society, 5 December 2006

(10 January 2007)

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A great crash echoed down the inward passageway.

"More beasts deeper in the mines?" said Narol fearfully, a recruit, the only member of the patrol save Aloran to survive. His right arm was burned horribly and he now held his axe in his left hand, weakly.

"Tell the Baron that lava men have entered the mines. I'll remain here." Aloran unmoving eyes stared over the bridge toward the mines. There would be no discussion. Narol stumbled up the opposite passage to the workshops.

Regukar was in the lower mason's shop, gazing into his hands, his face aglow with the light shining upward from his palms. The Baron was there as well.

"What is this? Did I not commission an obsidian throne? Why was this workshop built so near the magma flow if I'm to be seated on granite for the rest of my days?" The Baron sounded annoyed, but he was also trying to stare over Regukar's shoulder to see the treasure. The Baron reached for Regukar's wrist, and the mason turned violently and spat in the Baron's face just as Narol careened into the chamber.

"The Stout Wheels have held the bridge, but lava men are in the mines! Many are dead... Aloran is guarding the mine entrance alone..." Narol collapsed, breathing heavily.

-

Narol was gone, but Aloran did not notice. "I will kill them all," she said, and she walked down the bridge into the mines, leaving the bodies of her husband and the recruits behind. As she descended into the mines, the magma's light faded and she was engulfed by the dimness in which she had spent most of her life. Yet ahead she discerned an eerie glow. The miners had located these pits not long ago as they hunted for hematite. The lava men must be using them, accessing the mines away from the magma flow, Aloran thought, though she did not dwell on it long. Soon her mind was focused again on death.

Suddenly the light was blotted out, followed by a shaking that almost knocked Aloran from her feet. "COAH! So long I have waited for my master... only to find this sweet hairy dumpling. It must be time for the Great Feast." Aloran could discern its corpulence through the darkness. A lardy bloated creature, like those that made raids from the river, yet more grotesque, covered with translucent boils -- and many times larger. The thing croaked, "I sense... COAH! You have lost someone recently... your husband. Worry not, little dumpling! You will be reunited in my innards when I am done feeding."

Aloran did not speak. She would not entertain the creature -- she would have it dead.

--The Toad Preservation Society, 10 January 2007

(11 February 2007)

And it keeps going and growing !!

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Aloran hacked at the thing's wide belly with her battle axe. It lurched backward, avoiding the full force of the strike, and crashed into the cavern wall. Immediately, as if its lardy mass had bounced off the barrier, it leapt forward and knocked Aloran to the ground, pressing down on her shoulders with its great slimy hands. Its mouth opened, and a slick lolling tongue poured out like thick syrup and covered Aloran's face. It was going to swallow her whole! Unable to breathe, Aloran fumbled around in her boot and pulled out a small pointed hammer. Struggling to maintain consciousness, Aloran swung the hammer from her elbow. The point pierced one of the great creature's eyes, which popped and drained a viscous pus over the dwarf. The thing backed off of the warrior's body, its fat tongue dragging on the ground, leaving a broad swath of spittle. Aloran stood, breathing heavily, her axe secure in her right hand. She advanced on the retreating beast, her weapon lifted over her head. She wound further backward, then brought the axe blade around in a sweeping arc down on the bloated fiend's tongue, forking it.

Two more silhouettes appeared in the eerie glow above the beast's quivering form. As they approached, she could see they were gray and glistening, partially encased in shimmering pale shells, each walking on four stumpy legs. They look like cave oysters, Aloran thought. She raised her axe.

"Aloran!" Three recruits with swords rushed down the passageway. "The Baron sent for us. Are you all right?" Aloran did not turn to face them as the demonic oysters crawled over their bleeding companion.

--

"How dare you spit on me! You'll receive two hammerstrikes for this!" The Baron was livid. He had called for a peasant to notify reinforcements for the mines, of course, but now he was free to chastize Regukar. Narol was still only semi-conscious, resting on the floor.

"I created it! It is mine!" Regukar's eyes were glowing with a fierce light. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and held his arms close to his body, the light of his creation showing through his interlocked fingers.

"Nothing is yours! You used stone from the miners, the miners carved that stone out of the mountain, and the mountain belongs to me. Now hand the object over for inspection, and your past transgression might be forgiven." The Baron held out his hand.

Before the Baron could react, Regukar grabbed his chisel and brought it down into the Baron's forehead. The Baron crumpled, hitting the stone floor hard. Regukar chuckled and ambled off down the passageway toward the mines.

--The Toad Preservation Society, 11 February 2007

(13 March 2007)

Even if Toady is now deep into its work and the malor works on maps/moving armies, he took time adding a new part to these now ongoing story...

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Aloran, still winded, faced the two oyster demons. The recruits stood by her side in a line blocking off the passageway. The beasts slid down the toad's massive body, landing before it with a splatter. The fiends moved slowly, but they had almost reached the dwarves.

Two of the recruits, Roal and Daron, cousins who had just began sparring two weeks ago, lifted their swords and assailed the creatures. Roal brought his weapon down hard on the shell of one of the beasts, but it was deflected. From the space between the shell plates, a massive slimy appendage burst forth, ringing Roal and dragging him inside. His lower body dangled from the creature. Daron grabbed his legs and pulled, but Roal would not budge. The other oyster demon raised up on its back legs and came crashing down on Daron. The dwarf's head slammed hard against the passage way and he went unconscious. Roal's legs twitched as the second demon turned back to the remaining warriors.

Aloran had regained her breath and charged with the other recruit, Nlan, a dwarf from the north burrow. The recruit stabbed at the demon's body, sinking his sword deep into its flesh, while Aloran aimed low and hacked off one of its stubby legs with her axe. As it toppled, the thing spit out a stream of goo onto Nlan's face, which began to steam. The recruit chortled and fell to the ground, unrecognizable. Aloran finished off the creature by hacking into its soft body repeatedly.

The other demon had completed its meal. Roal's lower body detached and fell to the ground, and the oyster beast let out a belching noise. Another sound emanated from its shell soon after. "I sense... loss... your husband... reunite..."

"Silence, beast," Aloran spat. "The toad made the same promise and failed to keep it. Your kind use hollow words." At that moment, the toad demon's bleeding body quivered, as if it were laughing.

The oyster spoke again. "Daron... reunite... Roal..." The slimy appendage slid out and looped around Daron's right leg. Aloran ran forward, swinging her axe down on the oozing tentacle. It was cloven asunder and fell to the tunnel floor, pouring out a thick white paste.

As the oyster backed into the toad demon's still quivering form, the entire tunnel filled with a blinding light. Aloran turned and saw the vague form of a dwarf raising its hand, from which the radiance emanated. The light faded just enough for Aloran to make out the details. It was Regukar, the mason. In his hand, he held a glowing schist mini-forge.

--The Toad Preservation Society, 13 March 2007

(16 April 2007)

All right, the Reward continues (this is the same story):

@@.####
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Captain Kogan stood with his dwarves on the stone road before the great arch, beard dripping from the drizzling rain that had been falling since the early morning. No word had been sent from the Baron concerning the deep mining operation for nearly two weeks. The King had grown impatient and the Captain had been sent to investigate.

The soft patter of rain on stone was slowly drowned out by a series of whirs and chirps coming from within the fortress. It was like nothing the Captain had heard before. He had his soldiers position themselves before the entrance with the marksdwarves kneeling in front of the others. The sounds drew closer, until a small shape could be discerned emerging from the shadows beyond the archway.

It looked like a lizard, twisted into that form from rusted iron strips, but it walked on its rear legs with a jerking and uncertain gait. In the center of its head, visible through the metal frame, was a drooping lump of granite that appeared to be molded around the iron. The stone glowed with a faint red light.

The dwarves watched awe-struck as the metallic creature continued advancing until it finally stopped under the great arch. Its head swiveled back and forth, eventually settling on the group. The lizard's body grated against itself, and from somewhere within, it emitted a piercing whistle and charged.

"Fire, Bomtek! Now!" Kogan ordered.

The marksdwarf shot a bolt at the creature. It hit the granite lump, shattering it. The iron strips collapsed into a pile.

"W.. what in the name of the Lordaxe was that?" Nunon stammered. "Where are the guards?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Kogan. He walked forward and pushed the remnants of the creature about with his hammer. "Something sinister is afoot. We'll scout as far as the upper meeting hall."

Captain Kogan and his dwarves passed under the arch and disappeared into the dimly lit fortress.

--The Toad Preservation Society, 16 April 2007

(10 May 2007)

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"Get out of there!" Kogan screamed. It was too late. Lokar was lost. Only Bomtek, Nunon and Captain Kogan himself remained. The rest had been mauled beyond recognition by the metallic beasts. The passage to the upper hall had seemed clear, but it was a ruse. The walls had come alive. The lizards were everywhere.

Now Kogan and the others were running for lives, pursued by the iron fiends. They could outrun them if they didn't stop to fight. The dwarves were approaching the meeting hall, though Kogan held little hope for that place now. The only way out of the outpost lay behind them, through a maelstrom of metal fangs.

"The upper hall!" Kogan shouted when he spotted a light ahead. The torches were still lit? Perhaps the guards were able to stand after all! Kogan and the others ran on, the din of whirs and chirps behind them driving them forward. At last, the tired soldiers crossed under the arch and entered the upper meeting hall.

"I'm so pleased you could join us!" a voice boomed from the back of the chamber. Kogan looked out between the pillars. There on a granite throne sat a dwarf, his face twisted in madness. In his hand he held a glowing object. The stone floor before him was crawling with the metal lizards. On his right, a fire burned in the shape of a tall man, lighting the entire hall. On his left, a dwarf woman was tied, struggling against her bonds, hatred in her eyes.

"Do you like my little friends? Arshosh and I will make more, many, many more. The miniforge is all-powerful!" The crazed dwarf cackled. "With it, I enslaved the spirit of fire, bound stone and metal to my will, and soon, soon! Oh, yes. Soon I will use the power of the miniforge to create a new race of dwarves! Aloran will be the first! Then all of you will join her! And you shall call Regukar your master!"

--The Toad Preservation Society, 10 April 2007

(June 2007)

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The soldiers had been quickly subdued, lashed to the floor by a writhing mass of metallic lizard bodies. Regukar walked slowly to the place where Aloran was restrained.

"Now, Aloran, let us begin the ritual of transformation." Regukar held the shining miniforge near to the dwarf warrior's face as she continued to strain against the ropes. The crazed mason lifted a tiny hammer and struck the minianvil once. The fires of Arshosh rose to the ceiling of the great hall and twisted around its many granite pillars. A tongue of flame engulfed the miniforge and the anvil began to glow even more brightly.

Aloran felt her skin breaking. The unbearable pain spread throughout her entire body. Metal blades tore through the flesh of her arms and legs, and she felt a force trying to subdue her will. "Regukar is your master. Regukar is your master," a voice in her mind whispered. The ropes snapped as the blood-covered blades continued to rise. The voice became louder and louder until it was all she could hear, drowning out her own screams.

Through her tears she could see Regukar had buckled over, laughing uncontrollably, and the sight filled Aloran with an all-consuming hatred. This contemptible dwarf could never be her master. The pain and the voice faded away, and her animosity began to manifest itself in the power of her limbs. The metal was part of her body now, and she felt its presence as surely as that of her own hands.

Looking up, Regukar noticed Aloran's steady gaze, and worry crossed his face. "My slave, the transformation is complete. Call me master," the mason stammered. Aloran said nothing and punched Regukar in the face with her metal-bladed fist. The knives stuck in his head, and the full weight of his dying body hung limply from Aloran's straight arm. Regukar's mangled face slid slowly backward, and free from the blades the dwarf crumpled to the floor and lay unmoving on the stones.

The tongue of flame slowly lifted the miniforge from the mason's clinging hand. As the glowing object slipped from his grasp, his raised arm fell back to the ground, and he breathed his last. The spirit of fire withdrew its flames, bringing the miniforge to the center of its translucent body. The demon turned to Aloran and faded from sight. There was a sudden crash as the metallic lizards fell to pieces.

--The Toad Preservation Society, June 2007

TomTheHand

(20 February 2007)

..g#o@.%

Shrolnak glared through the rusty iron bars.

"Eat yer meat, ya hairy maggot," the goblin snarled as it pushed the bowl back towards the dwarven child. "It'll make yer beard longer."

Aliz kicked the bowl away again. "I'm not eating until I get my mini-forge!" Aliz crossed his arms above his plump little belly and turned away.

"Minnn.. what's yer mini-forge?" The goblin was confused. The only toy it had ever owned was a cracked elf skull.

The dwarf child's eyes lit up. "Uncle Kogan made it! It glows in the dark!"

"Glows in the dark, eh... I'll poke around." The goblin scrambled away from the prison and disappeared around a corner. In a few minutes, it returned, its hand cupped around something that glowed purple through its bony fingers.

Aliz moved toward the bars, his wide eyes reflecting the eerie light. The goblin held its right hand through the bar and dropped the glowing object into the child's waiting palms.

"Now eat yer meat." The goblin wandered off.

Aliz was still staring into his hands. A sinister smile spread slowly over his face.

(12 March 2007)

.T.g..@..

"Where is the Soul of the Dark Power?!" Arugor was screaming now. He had fooled a dragon to obtain the wicked gem, and now it was nowhere to be found. Shrolnak groveled before him.

"Master, I.. I don't know..." Shrolnak had never truly adjusted to kneeling before the troll, but it couldn't be helped. His master had been gifted with a cunning far beyond others of his kind, and Shrolnak was powerless before him.

"Lies! Your hands still shine with its aura! Where have you hidden my treasure?"

"T.. that gem? I thought that's all it was. I... I let the dwarf child play with it."

"What?! Fool! I must reclaim it before it is too late." Arugor was bothered that Shrolnak had somehow managed to avoid the intricate traps in the Soul Chamber, but he would leave that matter alone until the gem was reclaimed.

Just as Arugor turned to leave, a plump dwarven child floated into the throne room, trailed by a billowing mist. In his hands, he clutched a deep purple gem. The hovering child had a wicked grin twisted into his bearded face. Arugor and Shrolnak shielded their faces, helpless before the radiance of the wielded Soul.

The child levitated higher, close to the ceiling, and looked down upon the quivering monsters. "With my power, I shall build the greatest mini-forge the world has ever known!" The dwarf was enveloped by the purple light and passed through the ceiling.

Trukkle

(25 June 2007)

%%@##B#

"There it goes!" Doran hollered as the bit of plump helmet sailed out into the darkness. The mason had been at the whiskey all morning, and now he was dangling his legs over the chasm with his lunch, throwing mushroom pieces to the gray fliers. One of the bats sailed silently into view and snatched the food as it fell.

"A bat's a bat, and bats like mushrooms!" Doran slurred as he took another swig from the flagon. "Let's try something a little larger."

The dwarf ripped the cap from one of his plump helmets and tossed it out into the abyss. It dropped out of view, without any sign of the fliers. Doran pouted.

Suddenly, a great shape flew up from the chasm, right by Doran's face, blowing the braids of his beard back over his shoulders. It looked like a gray flier, but many, many times larger, as large as one of the brown bears out in the forest. He watched as it disappeared off above into the distance.

Doran looked down at his lunch. "I... I guess I'll finish the rest myself."

Xarph

(20 February 2007)

###=@=##

Kogan hurtled through the darkness, the two long braids of his golden beard streaming behind him. It was too much weight! The wings tied to his arms, made from stretched frogman skin and giant cave spider legs, fluttered uselessly as the chasm walls rushed by. He had been nervous the night before and, as usual, had gorged himself on plump helmet biscuits and dwarven rum. Now he was falling like a granite block. Kogan wondered if the philosophers were correct -- were these chasms were bottomless? He would be able to survive for several days without food or alcohol. Seeing nothing but blackness below, Kogan resigned himself to the journey ahead and began to sing his favorite drinking song.

(19 May 2007)

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It had been two days. Kogan was dehydrated, and he had begun mumbling to himself. "Whiskey... my dear whiskey..."

Suddenly his fall was arrested by a force which seemed to hold him by the arms and legs. He still fell, but slower, and slower still, until he stopped entirely and hung in space. The dwarf tried to spin, but he was unable to move. Thick, translucent ropes held him. The reality of the situation dawned on him, and he felt sick. It was a giant web. He had been ensnared by one of the dark huntresses of the deep.

As he strained his eyes in the near-total darkness, Kogan could see her. A bloated many-legged creature, her body clear, her organs visible within. She was already moving toward Kogan, deliberately picking her way along the lines that were safe for her to grasp with her cruel claws. The creature chittered in anticipation as the dwarf struggled against the webs.

(20 September 2007)

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The spider was upon him. With what little motion Kogan had in his arms, he tried to bring the wings between himself and the voracious beast. He flailed helplessly, marshalling a defence that would embarrass even a child of his people.

Yet the spider stopped. She looked upon him with her many emotionless eyes. The dwarf could discern nothing. The spider's head bobbed up and down slowly, and she lifted several of her legs and waved them in simple patterns above the web.

A sudden realization struck Kogan -- the spider legs in the wing frames. She thinks I'm trying to speak to her! Kogan continued to wave his arms around as best he could, and she responded in kind. Giant cave spiders are solitary creatures, Kogan thought, so it must be a mating ritual. "But giant spiders eat their mates after breeding with them," Kogan muttered in horror. "I can't think of a worse way to die!"

(13 November 2007)

+g++%@%%+

The movement of the spider's legs had ceased. Now she simply looked upon Kogan with her cold, glassy eyes. Her sinews tensed -- she was ready to pounce! To what end, none dare say, though many a gruesome and unseemly scenario had played themselves out in the recesses of Kogan's strained mind.

A moment passed, and the bloated thing leapt forward! As she landed on Kogan with the full weight of her body, the dwarf felt himself tear free, and the web and spider passed up and beyond his sight as he plummeted downward. Oh, what happy chance is this! Kogan thought. He was free from fear now. If his body was broken into a thousand pieces on some protruding rock, what would matter? At least he would no longer sire an army of evil.

Soon enough, Kogan sensed that the walls were closing in. He could not see well enough in the oppressive darkness of this deepest part of the earth, but he felt their nearness. The dwarf said a prayer to the Lordaxe to grant him a swift death.

Kogan felt his bottom smack hard into a smooth slope and he slid disoriented into a twisting tunnel. The friction burned, but his descent was slowed, and Kogan found himself gliding down an obsidian tube. Out of a hatch he fell, landing face first in a pile of stone trinkets. Uninjured, but sore, the dwarf stood. It still felt as if the air was rushing by him, but he was teetering on solid ground.

The chamber was lit by torches. It was almost cheerful. The trinkets were all finely crafted. It wasn't dwarven work, but each object had its own peculiar charm. Kogan picked up a slate carving. It was a rabbit wearing a jester's hat.

"Hey oh, what are you doing in the figure room?"

Kogan looked up. A mountain gnome was peering around a doorway. Only its tilted head was visible.

"I fell," Kogan said, indicating the hatch.

"Oh my!" the gnome said with an equal measure of elation and surprise.

"You're our first visitor in years!"

"Visitor?" Kogan asked.

"Yes, my friend! I'm Largee Pottums! Welcome to Toy Land!"

(27 February 2008)

+g+@+%%%%+

"Toy Land," Kogan said flatly, utterly dumbfounded. The sheer implausibility of the situation managed to drive all feelings of hunger and thirst from his body.

"Yes, Kogan, it's Toy Land!" Largee Pottums exclaimed, jumping out into full view. "Where do you think all of your toys come from? Your crafts shops? Hoy hey! That would be the day!"

"Yes, our cr... wait, how did you know my name?" Kogan scratched his head.

"Do you remember the miniforge you got when you were six?" Largee Pottums asked.

"Th.. yes," Kogan finally resolved to think a little less about his situation.

"Gnomes!" Largee Pottums said proudly. "And the toy axe you got when you were eight?"

"That too?!" Kogan exclaimed. He had such fond memories of the axe. He used to beat his friends with it mercilessly.

"Gnomes," Largee Pottums replied, nodding in satisfaction.

"What about the puzzle box I got when I was nine?" Kogan asked.

"That was your uncle Dorol. And you just hated it didn't you? Oh ho!" Largee said.

"Y... yes," Kogan said, disappointed. He had hoped to have somebody to blame after all these years. At least he could confront Dorol should he ever return home.

"Gnomes make the best toys!" Largee concluded. "Mountain gnomes for the dwarves, garden gnomes for the humans, and dark gnomes for the goblins. Toys, toys and more toys!"

"Gob... what about the elves?" Kogan asked, not knowing why he cared. Like any able-bearded dwarf, he held elves in contempt.

"The elves? Hey oh! The garden gnomes used to make their toys. But they're so finicky! One deer bone figurine and they found us out. Humans can appreciate a deer bone figurine. The garden gnomes are much happier now, if I do say so myself. And I do! Oo hoo!"

Kogan grunted in affirmation. He could emphathize with the garden gnomes. Elves were nonsensical creatures.

"Now, my friend, it's time to talk to the Boss," Largee Pottums announced, clapping his hands.

"The Boss?" Kogan asked.

"You can't make toys without a Boss. Let's go! We haven't had a visitor in so long, he'll be excited to see you. Oh yes he will, sure as sweet pods!" With that, Largee Pottums skipped through the doorway, with Kogan following after him.

(1 July 2008)

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"Now tell me, Kogan," said the white-bearded gnome from his plush gaudy chair, "why you leapt into the chasm in the first place." The Boss's coat was nearly bursting at the buttons; the red fabric made his belly looked like one of his puffy cheeks.

"It was my dream. I wanted to fly," Kogan said sheepishly, "like a bat, soaring through the still air free as a spark, but my calculations failed."

"Ho ho ho," the plump gnome merrily laughed. "What a brave dwarf you are! Now that you're here in our secret workshop, I was concerned about letting you return home, but perhaps you wouldn't stay up above very long before daring the chasm again."

"The chasm... the spider..." The dwarf shuddered at the memory.

"Largee! Largee Pottums!" the Boss of Toy Land shouted. "Our friend Kogan needs some ease for his troubled mind. Why don't you show him around Wimble Wizzer's workshop?"

"Hoo hey! Right away!" came the familiar voice from the doorway. Kogan bowed awkwardly to the Boss and followed Largee out of the cozy room.

--

Kogan was awestruck. It was like a scene out of his wildest imaginings during one of those late nights at the drawing table. Airborne contraptions looped and soared beneath the high stone ceiling as gears turned and wings flapped or rotated according to the whims of a particular design. Down below, three gnomes repaired and tinkered with the devices on creaky wooden tables.

"Wimble-wee, Wimble-woo!" Largee shouted into the workshop. "I have a guest for you!"

One of the gnomes inside turned toward the door and smiled weakly while shaking his head, "Largee, my boy, who ever taught you to speak in such a manner? Surely it was a gnome no less exuberant than yourself."

Largee presented the still-stunned Kogan to the master of the workshop. "This is Kogan, a dwarf, as you can see (hoo-ee!), and a fellow maker of flying machines. The Boss has sent him down here to have a look."

"Ah? So it's to be an inspection, is it?" Wimble replied gruffly. "Well, you won't find these topside, but we're planning to sneak a few of the truest models in during the next festival. The timetable is a strict one, and we're still struggling with accidents." At this, there was the sound of metal grinding on metal above as one of the machines lurched and crashed into a table below. "The Boss is jolly as they come, but he is also a grueling taskmaster."

"Ho ho ho," came the laughter from the doorway. "Wimble Wizzer, you grumpus, is that the way to greet a new worker?"

Kogan turned toward the Boss, who was now standing beside him. A new worker? The dwarf's eyes were wider than ever, and he turned slowly back to the workshop, wearing a smile more full of unabashed joy than any he had worn in his entire life.

"Well, you know, Largee," the Boss said, turning to the other gnome standing at the door. "If he wants, we could just let him go back home, if we found a way to make him forget all about Toy Land."

"We could bonk him on the head! Hee-whoa... bonk!" Largee yelled, snapping his hand at the wrist.

"Ho ho ho," the Boss chuckled. "Don't you remember? Sometimes you have to bonk them again and again, and they still won't forget!"

Kogan missed all of this banter, bent over the tables as he was, looking over the damaged machine with Wimble and the others. After a moment, Largee and the Boss slipped out of the room, leaving the new worker to his workshop.

The End

Darkie

(14 September 2008)

,.,.O@T,...

Surrounded by a troll on one side and an ogre on the other, dwarf master Alrin knew these could be the last seconds of his life. As he gripped the handle of his axe he recalled the teachings of Azrom, god of war. Matters of great importance should be given the slightest thought. It was only the minor matters that must be given the most delicate care. So, without conscious thought, Alrin slammed his axe handle into the ogre's toe. Swiftly, the dwarf ran between the monster's legs and delivered a swift kick to its backside. As the ogre toppled over, the hairy troll launched over the fallen monster and leaped toward Alrin. As time slowed in an adrenalin rush, Alrin readied his axe.

Draigh

(13 Augustus 2008)

.@@|,-.-.kk,k,.k,.

Malgar, warrior dwarf woman, fought on against the onslaught of kobolds, her newborn baby still strapped to her back. She lifted her shield to block another volley of poison darts. She had been hunting, far from the entrance of the fortress, when she stumbled upon the skulking trash, no doubt planning a cowardly raid on the fortress vault. She had to warn the others. With one hand she held the bugle to her lips, while with the other she parried another deadly strike.

Minion21g

(28 December 2008)

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Fiends pounded the trail, hunting Belmir and his thieving partner. The two had stolen into the dark goblin tower in the dead of night and taken the vial that held the demon king's essence. By destroying it, they could stop the war and put an end to the demon forever. Why destroy it, thought Belmir, when it obviously held so much value? He and Gal would be rich men. Or, he thought, looking at Gal with murderous intent, perhaps just me.

No Not The Bees

(29 December 2008)

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The lonely cottage stood underneath a great hill of snow that had been born of the great blizzard. Wind and sleet kept the pioneers indoors. That, and the promise of hated predators searching for meat in the frozen wastes. But as his family grew hungry, Fram knew that he must join the hunters outside.

Almost immediately Fram saw the danger. Bloody footprints of a great creature circled the cottage as if a monster sought a way inside. Grimly, Fram gripped his spear. He must persevere lest his family starve. He followed the monster's tracks away from his home as he pulled his furs tight against the freezing winds.

Ahead he saw a shape, a black mound against an ocean of white. Cautiously, Fram approached. It was the half eaten body of a black bear. But what could kill such a large beast. As if to answer, a monster loomed into sight, its body covered with long icicles. A blizzard man!

Scrollhaven

(28 December 2008)

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With one mighty swing, Alfonso knocked away the prone elf's sword and placed his boot on his wrist. Many moons had past since the vile creature had killed poor Jim and ate him. Even now the elf looked up in defiance. Finally, in these haunted woods far from home, vengeance would be served. Alfonso held the tip of his sword over the creature's heart, wondering vaguely if it had one.

"Back off, human," came a voice from behind, "this is my kill."

The human ranger turned to see a dwarf holding a crossbow. By the state of his boots and armor, Alfonso could tell the dwarf too, had been on a long quest. The elf saw its chance and snaked its way out from between the ranger's legs and was off into the brush in an instant. Alfonso cursed and charged after him, the dwarf close behind.

ToonyMan

(16 January 2009)

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Sword and axe clashed again and again as the fighters struggled to best each other in mortal combat. Arrows rained down on the field of battle as man, elf and dwarf fought at once to win the day. Randar took up the sword for the dwarves. With his mightiness he tried to kill Giltra of the elves, but the champion was too fast. The battle seemed endless. Roars of terror and pain were everywhere. Just then a squadron of dragons appeared, lead by Madnar the Evil. Could there be any hope?

AbuDhabi

(5 February 2009)

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Fires burned at the edge of the vast grassland, holding back the darkness before the dwarf fortress. All night baleful howls could be heard on the plain, undead cows brought back to life by the evil wizard Maxelman. He had allowed the dwarves to live in his domain of evil, if they but bestowed on him one artifact a year. Nothing, however, could measure the greed of a dwarf. Nothing, that is, save his thirst for strong whiskey.

A dwarf stood atop the battlement, laughing drunkenly. "Get down Twan," whispered his fellow guardsman. "The night-wings will snatch you off the wall!" Twan threw his stein off the wall in defiance. Such was his vanity that he thought that they only need live through the night. Little did he know, the dawn would never come.

(24 February 2009)

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Twan held his helmet over his eyes and screamed. Fireballs smashed into the walls, shot from the gullets of a dozen dragons circling in the smoke-choked sky. Marksdwarves dove from the walls and smashed into the courtyard below. "Stand and fight!" shouted Captain Krandle. "Fear no devil!" Twan reached the courtyard just as the gate broken open wide. Pike-wielding goblins poured through the opening. Captain Krandle threw his great braided beard over his shoulder and called forth his squad of elite axe-lords, The Chosen.

Pike and axe clashed again and again as Twan crawled between the legs of the combatants. A head dropped onto the ground before him. It was the head of Captain Krandle. Twan pressed on. He would not be paralyzed with fear. It seemed that the power of Maxelman knew no bounds, but not even he could breach the inner mines. Dodging the deadly weapons, and slithering over the bodies, Twan made his way the center of the fortress.

A dark tunnel lay beyond the entrance to the keep. Twan danced down the corridor in the intricate steps that avoided the complex mass of triggers and tripwires that guarded the entrance. Inside were the mines, stocked with enough dwarven wine to keep them in the cups for ten years. Twan reflected for a moment on those above who had died. It wasn't important. He was alive, and would remain so, so long as he avoided the king and any quests he might have in store.

DaWarMage

(8 February 2009)

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Dwarves howled as the gladiators fought and bled. They were men and goblins, imprisoned since the great siege. Now, with the promise of freedom, they fought. Hanson knew the goblins could not be trusted, but he had included them in an escape plan with his fellow humans out of necessity. The dwarves had been foolish to wait so long to condemn them. It had allowed them to organize.

Once out onto the sand, the gladiators fell in behind Hanson. The dwarves grew quiet. The Baron stepped to edge of his platform. "What is the meaning of this?" cried the dwarven noble. Hanson took his trident up and ran toward the platform, hurling the weapon with all his might.

Jim

(29 December 2008)

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So unsteady was the rule of the land that no one walked the halls of Castle Sanazar alone. It had become fashion for the lords to stab each other in the back, or perhaps poison each other's beer steins. Not even a squire was safe. Rumors of war spread as did the news of Sanazar's weakness. The king called an audience of all the knights of the realm. A quest was called for -- something to prove the kingdom's legitimacy.

The tables of the great hall filled with mighty knights as squires rushed back and forth filling cups. The king looked on silently through sunken eyes, having recently lost his ability to speak. He motioned his consort to stand forth to deliver his proclamation. She was a handsome woman, recently bound to the king, from a kingdom far to the north.

"The flower that is Sanazar," she said, "is wilting and sick. While we fight amongst ourselves, hungry jackals vie for their part of the carcass. What we need is a hero, and what better to prove a hero than a mighty quest! Far to the east lays Forgotten Quilts, an ancient dwarf fortress abandoned long ago. It is said that within can be found Gilded Lunch, the golden artifact boot. Return with the boot, and return a hero! Who will take the challenge?"

"I shall!" boomed a voice from the end of the hall.

Through the door came Bram, mighty barbarian warrior, a squire following behind, eyes downcast. The hall erupted into Chaos. How could this outsider be given the quest? The king's consort looked on the barbarian, heart racing. "What makes you think you are up to the task?" she said.

"May I know thy name Madame?" asked the barbarian.

"Scandala," said the consort, brushing a blond hair from her face.

"Lady Scandala," said Bram, "I have slain dragon, cyclops, and ogre. There is nothing under the sky that I fear."

That same day, Bram found himself on a horse on the road to Forgotten Quilts, his squire Dolphin on a mule trailing behind. The lords of the realm had not taken it well. Without the Mandate of the King, returning with the boot would be useless. Bram must die. No knight knew this better than Crusier, cruel black night of Petoun. That very night he left the castle with his squire, taking the fast roads to arrive on the trail before the hero.

"Help!" cried the boy, "Oh help!"

"Don't trust it Bram," said Dolphin. "I recognize that boy, a squire from the hall."

"A countryman in distress is just that," said the hero dismounting his horse and drawing his sword.

As he approached, he found the boy laughing. "Let's see how fast you can complete your quest without horses!" yelled the boy.

Bram spun around to see Crusier leap upon Dolphin and, a knife to the boy's throat, ride away on Bram's horse. The evil squire laughed until Bram turned and brought his sword across the boy's face, leaving a deep gash in his cheek. "I have marked you," said the barbarian, "for you are mine now. Lead me to your master's den. Know that if he harms a hair on Dolphin's head, there won't be enough of you left to fill your god forsaken tomb!"

NobbZ

(16 February 2009)

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The dwarven toughs stood around the curve in the corridor, taunting the dwarf lasses as they passed. A particularly vicious young dwarf fingered his crossbow as he saw a dwarf he knew.

"Hey, Moody," said a thug. "There's the dwarf that owes you that coin."

"Yes," said Moody, stepping up to the dwarf, pointing his weapon.

"You owe me," said Moody. "Hand over the purse."

"I don't have your money!" said the dwarf.

The dwarven outlaws piled onto the dwarf, beating him near to death.

"I'll be back," said the blood-soaked dwarf over his shoulder as he ran. "I'll be back!"

"You're never coming back coward!" shouted Moody.