ASCII art reward/G-L

ASCII Art Rewards (alphabetically by contributor)
A – F	G – L	M – S	T – Z

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.

jaccarmac

(19 November 2013)

,%.%.@.%@/%ggggg

Nothing save dragon's fire was hotter than Cendra's fury at the goblin invaders. Limbs and heads bounced along the mining tunnel as the dwarf warrioress chopped them left and right. Ever since Darkmaster the Evil mounted his campaign against the dwarf fortress, no one was safe. It was to dwarves like Cendra that all owed their freedom and probably their very lives.

“To the right!” shouted Kogan.

Ducking just in time, Cendra twirled around and planted her axe dead in the goblin's chest. Kogan had been Cendra's blade brother as long as she could remember. It made it all the more tragic when he finally fell to Darkmaster's henchmen. But let us talk of happier times...

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.

John Tait

(4 November 2007)

+@++\M+

The young adventurer stepped up to the statue, torch in hand. After a quick inspection he grasped the stone minotaur's horn. He gave it a sharp yank and just as Albert foretold, the rock hand opened dropping the Sword of Fire into the adventurer's waiting hands. The stones in the ceiling above began to rumble, as if the temple itself was being rocked from its foundations. Throwing his cloak over his head, the young man made his way to the entrance, dodging the falling stones.

Jevon

(13 June 2011)

,.gg,.\@,.ggg

Waves of arrows rained down on Aliz's machine. It was not a machine, in truth, but a suit of armor, powered by its user to great strength. Aliz himself wore the machine now, wading into the goblin ambush to check the kinks in the system. Once he returned the king would reward him handsomely and he could continue his research well-funded.

The goblins came out from behind the rocks to inspect the curiosity. The thing was the shape of a dwarf, but made of metal. It held an axe but was far from threatening because it moved so slowly. The lead goblin snatched the axe out of the dwarf's hand. As the other goblins laughed, the chief kicked the contraption on its side. Aliz wondered how he might escape alive.

Jibz

(25 December 2011)

###N,.,.o@,.@

Far below the pond grabbers in the underground seas in the depths long forgotten, a beast awoke. Scratching, itching, biting. It was the little ones again. The beast put a claw over its aching head. Didn't they remember the last time they pulled this? The beast was still trying to get the taste out of its mouth. With a turn of its tail, the monster rose from the murky water.

"Are you going to the mead hall after work?" asked Aliz.

"Nah," said Mokez, chipping off another piece of microcline, "I don't think those guys understand me anymore."

Suddenly, a crack formed in the end of the tunnel. Mokez started. It was unlike him to miss cues like this. Call it ‘female trouble,' he thought. Aliz scuttled up to see. A hole was forming before them. Quickly the dwarves rushed back up the mineshaft.

"You saw it," said Aliz.

"Re-wall," replied Mokez. "Dwarves have been here before."

"But it must have been an age ago," started Aliz. "You saw the rock…"

Crash! A huge claw shot up through the shaft and landed in between the miners. Aliz ran to call the guard, while Mokez stayed behind throwing rocks. The monster was a giant black newt with external ribs and massive claws. Mokez stared into the creature's third eye and dropped his stone. There was a connection.

Joystick Hero

(14 September 2010)

%W%%W%    ,.,."","@@@@".,@

Fires burned on the high mountain. The wind carried the cries of the dwarves as all they ever cared about was destroyed. But one dwarf had not given in to despair. It was Malvedar, slayer of dragons and veteran of a thousand famous battles. He watched the dwarf fortress burn from his hiding place in the wooded slope. There would come a time when the enemy was not so lucky, when his schemes failed. That would be when they remember what they did to the dwarves this day and would expect no mercy.

"Lord Malvedar," said a dwarf soldier, "I think the werewolves have caught our scent."

The dwarf warlord nodded. Together, the ragged band of dwarven survivors made their way down the slope. The road back to the mountain homes was long and full of danger, but there was nowhere else left to go. While others cried, Malvedar resisted the urge to throw himself on the enemy. He would kill many, but not enough before he was brought low. No. It would be a hard time, and a long time, but he would have his satisfaction.

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?!

Jim

(29 December 2008)

,.U\U,.....M,.UUH..

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!"

Kuroneko

(29 October 2009)

.,.UUOW.,

Thunder shook the crumbling shack as the old crone stirred the steaming black cauldron. Across from her sat mighty warrior Johns, resplendent in his shining armor. Behind and to the side squatted his squire, Toolsman. The metal pot began to glow. Images began to form above the bubbling stew. Fighters and monsters danced in the wispy smoke. Toolsman gasped and took Johns's arm. The knight lord drove his elbow into the squire's cheek. The warrior leaned close and questioned the shriveled hag.

"Tell me of black knight Scroder," commanded Johns, "as you promised to do."

The witch woman raised her face to stare into Johns's eyes.

"He waits for you," she said, "in the Valley of Ultimate Despair.

You shall not live to see him though, for you are already betrayed."

Toolsman looked fearfully to his master, but the crusader's eyes were ever on the crone. "It is you who betray!" shouted Johns as he seized the old woman and forced her into the pot. Black smoke billowed forth and the air was filled with wicked laughter. In the end only Johns and Toolsman remained. There was no sign of the spiritual guide.

Lord Herman

(Early 2009)

=&]RR,...\@@@,.,.++++||\^^^^^

The chariot roared through the battle plain, towed by two giant black, slathering rats and carrying the dread lord Sarumak, kingdom smasher and orphaner of children. The dwarves held out the pikes but Sarumak swept them aside with his cursed broadsword, Emilplec. So he reached the gates of the dwarf fortress. The dark lord stepped down from his chariot and surveyed the masterwork of architecture. The gates were tall and wide, braced from behind, and no doubt rigged with dozens of traps.

It wasn't long before the dwarves were swept from the field. Now only their citadel remained. Sarumak ordered his siege engines brought forward. As they reached the wall the dwarves dropped down fiery liquid and forced them back. The evil king was growing frustrated. He ordered his sappers to dig under the wall. It was turning into a long campaign, and his army of evil beasts wouldn't hold together long without a victory.

(5 December 2009)

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

"Eat lead goblin scum!" shouted dwarf warrior Joan as he overturned a bucket of heavy metal blocks.

It would seem that terror would strike the hearts of dwarves like Joan, now trapped in their fortress tomb. This was far from the truth. Joan grew bolder the harder he was pressed. The deeper the goblins forced their way in, the more horrible their deaths would be. Joan's father had devised most of the traps in the south market burrow. A dwarf shouted in his ear and beckoned him to come off the wall.

"The goblins have dug under the wall," said the guard captain.

"That's impossible," said Joan, "The rock beneath the wall descends into the root of the mountain. It would take hundred years to breach that way."

"None the less," said the captain, "It is said that Sarumak has power over giant moles and possesses the secret of dragon fire. We have analyzed the threat, and there is a danger. We need an elite unit of dwarven commandos to sally forth, determine the nature of the enemy's plans, and put an end to them."

"You can count on me, Captain," said Joan.

"Good show," said the officer in command. "Assemble the squad before the gate at the day's last light."

Torches and campfires sprang to life in the invader's camp as the sun sank behind the mountains. The captain passed in front of a line of a dozen dwarves dressed in black, strapped with all manner of weapons. They were a mixed bunch. A few were adventurers looking for glory. Some were drunken toughs looking for a brawl. The rest were released fresh from prison, where they were promised freedom if they fought for the king. Joan stood at the end of the line, his right arm across his chest.

"My axe is yours," said Joan.

The captain looked at Joan, appraising the dwarf hero. "Keep it," he said. "You will surely need it before the night is through."

The captain signaled the catapults to begin their barrage. The raining balls of fire were just enough to distract the goblins as the gate opened just enough to let a dozen dwarven soldiers out into the night.

(15 January 2010)

[,.&]TT,..@,.

Silently the dwarves wound their way between the campfires around which danced the goblins in their orgies of bloodlust. Ahead was the grand tent of Sarumak, six-armed demon from the pit of Thamusula. Two trolls guarded the entrance. Joan looked to his dwarf Hogan, a professional soldier, just let out of prison for failing to meet a noble's mandate. Summoning him closer, Joan whispered his plan into the warrior's ear. Hogan stared into his leader's eyes and blinked once. They both understood the seriousness of the situation.

Hogan had been born the tallest of eight dwarven children. Freakish in size, he was shunned by the others and spent all his spare hours in the barracks, smashing sparring dummies. Now he stepped in front of the enemy's headquarters. Two giant furry trolls stared down at him. Hogan threw down his helmet and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Where is that coward Sarumak?" he said. "Dare he come forth and face a true opponent!"

A huge black head appeared through the opening in the tent. Its nostrils snorted fire. Hogan's jaw went slack and he ran for his life. The huge six-armed demon ran after him and the trolls ran close behinds.

(23 April 2010)

++@@@+@/++@||

The dwarven commandos watched as the demon ran after the intruder, the two troll guards following soon after. Joan ordered the dwarves into the tent. Inside, the ceiling was hung with all manner of bones and rotting meat. Joan stared at a pyramid of severed heads and wondered if he had known any of them. A commando took him by the arm and pointed to the table at the center of the tent. On it were Sarumak's battle plans!

"Master Joan," said a scruffy looking commando, "what do we do with this?" In the dirty ex-prisoner's hands lay Emilplec, the infamous broadsword of the demon prince.

Smiling Joan snatched up the blade. He was sure to be named Champion now. With a great sweep of his arm, Joan gathered up the battle plans and led the dwarves on a mad dash out of the tent. All around, goblins cried out in alarm. Halfway on the slope, a runner joined them. It was Hogan.

"How did you fare? Where is Sarumak?" asked Joan.

Hogan breathed hard and said, "Not far behind Sir! The mission, did we succeed?"

Joan held up the sword and smiled. Hogan looked at him, questioning.

--

Stones fell from the ceiling of the great hall as the enemy bombardment pounded on. It had been a relentless barrage ever since the commandos returned. The dwarf king stared out into the empty room, deserted save for the commandos and their captain. The old king lifted his heavily lidded eyes and spoke.

"You have news, Captain Willard?" said the king.

"We have raided the enemy camp," said the captain.

The king raised an eyebrow. "What have you brought me?" he asked.

Joan stepped forward and threw down the blade.

"We have captured Emilplec, hated sword of the enemy!" he shouted.

"Fool!" yelled the king. "Now he will never loosen his grip on our fortress!"

(16 September 2010)

##||+@/&+||##

Joan hung his head, deeply shamed. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the cracks of the mountain, never to be remembered. He had dealt the enemy a blow so humiliating now there was no chance of peace. A dwarf at his side rose to his feet and stepped before the king. The rest of the commandos watched in wonder. It was tall Hogan.

"It matters not what we do," shouted the dwarf. "Sarumak will come for us all the same."

"Who is this dwarf?" asked the king.

"Hogan Longstride," said Captain Willard from his place at the king's side, "a common criminal. I shall cut him down, should you wish it."

"No," said the king. "We will hear what this young dwarf has to say."

Hogan took a breath and fell to his knee, holding the dread sword Emilplec out before him.

"To stay behind these walls is to die," said Hogan. "Sarumak would have us driven into the Underworld, living like goblins in the grimy dark. We must attack! Drive this sword into the demon's black heart."

"Joan?" asked the king. "Do you plan to lead this attack?"

It was certain death and Joan knew it. He had seen the enemy horde up close and there was no way to win, but with the help of this fearless dwarf, he now had a way to restore his honor. Grinding his teeth, he took the sword from Hogan and stood before the throne.

"I will strike the demon dead."

Great rocks and balls of flaming matter passed each other in the sky, arching down and smashing tall towers and the siege works below. No one even noticed when the commandos emerged from the front gate. Joan looked up to see Sarumak atop one of his siege towers, directing the barrage. The dwarves fought their way to the tower, cutting through a host of unsuspecting goblins and trolls. One by one, the dwarves were struck down. When they reached the tower, only Joan and Hogan remained. The tall dwarf held off a dozen enemies while Joan climbed the wooden structure.

"Burn them!" screamed Sarumak. "Burn them all!"

The demon turned to see a dwarf behind him, holding a long curved sword.

"That is mine!" cried the demon. "Give it to me!"

With a flick of the wrist, Joan brought the sword down onto the wrist of an outstretched hand, lobbing it off in a bloody arch. But the demon had five more and was said to be devious. This proved not to be the case. In his bloody rage, Sarumak threw himself onto the outstretched sword. Joan tore the blade from Sarumak's stomach and severed the demon's head.

The tower began to shift and rock. Below, the magic creatures disappeared in clouds of dust and bursts of flame. As Joan tried to lower himself down the side of the tower, the headless body of Sarumak grabbed him by the wrist. Joan lifted the demon sword, but it became glowing hot. As he dropped it, the sword disintegrated in a spark of flame. The claw released him, and Joan found himself plunging through the air.

Hogan caught the hero as he fell. Together they made their way through the army of fleeing goblins, back to the fortress gate. There they were met by much fanfare. The war was over. Joan was indeed crowned champion, and Hogan became Captain of the Guard, replacing Willard, now recently retired.

(24 December 2010)

,.bb@bdbb@bb@ddbbb.,k,.

Ganagus ran as fast as he could, turning this way and that to throw off the posse of dwarves tailing him. He was close to the kobold nest, and if he didn't stop them now, he would bring the dwarves right to it. Looking down the trail, he could see the dwarves coming, their blood hounds leading the way. Ganagus looked up into the canopy to see if the old trap was set and hid behind a tree.

"She's got him now!" said a dwarf. "Looks like a whole mess of them. They'll be sorry they ever stole from fortress Heartwears!"

The kobold chopped through the rope with his short sword. A hive of bees fell from the sky, crashing amongst the dwarves. Ganagus leapt out from behind the tree and began to chatter and cackle with glee. One of the meaner dwarves saw him and charged out of the chaos, brandishing an axe.

"Bacabadabis," said Ganagus as he turned and fled, a wide grin across his fangs.

(5 February 2012)

~~~~~k~~kk~~~~~~..,.,@%@,.,

That night, when the beaten dwarves returned to the fortress, the king pronounced his doom. The forest would be burned and every living thing in it would die. Someone brought up the elves, but the dwarves laughed him down. The magma pumps were made ready just in time for dawn.

When the sun rose that day, it was not the only thing bringing warmth to the world. Rivers of molten rock poured down either side of Heartwears Fortress. Birds and animals ran, squawked and flew as the fire spread through the forest.

Ganagus howled as the flames came closer to his home. Some of the kobolds ran, others sought shelter in the nest. The nest, and all its lovely dwarven toys. There was no time. Ganagus gathered what kobolds would follow and ran to the lake they called Bagadagus.

Floating in the center of the lake with two of his friends, Ganagus was surrounded by a ring of fire. It was possible other kobolds made it out, but not likely. He thought of all that was lost and grew angry. The dwarves think they can hoard all those lovely things from us. They will be made to give all.

"What happened here?" asked the dwarven sheriff.

The two dwarves stood in an ashen field, burnt tree trunks standing all around. At their feet was a body, hardly recognizable as a dwarf. It had been bitten and stung a thousand times.

(22 April 2013)

@@@@,.,.@,=,.,.?k?

The kobold looked over the smoking pit that once was home. Everyone Ganagus had loved or cared for was dead. Those that didn’t perish in the nest were picked off by dwarven sharpshooters in the days following the great fire. All that was left was Ganagus and his incomprehensible oath of vengeance.

“Isn’t that my old end table?” asked Brutus.

The fat dwarf slipped off his pony and made his way through the burnt tree trunks to the metal table, half covered in ash. Sheriff Constaban called out, but it was too late. With a shriek, the dwarf disappeared.

Quickly loading their weapons, Sheriff Constaban and the other marks-dwarves cautiously made their way toward the shining piece of furniture. They could still hear Brutus from the pit some ways ahead. He screamed, sucked in a few breaths and screamed again. When the first dwarf reached the lip of the pit, an arrow flew out of nowhere and struck a marks-dwarf in the neck.

“Sniper!” shouted Constaban.

(2 January 2014)

..,,.ko,,.,.@.,|@@++++

It was the end of the year and the Plump Helmet Festival was in full swing. Even in a war-ravaged fortress like Heartwears, the young gathered, dressed in their finest. For some, it would be a new dawn as they came into adulthood and were married off in a way to appease the families of each young adult. For others it was just another long night drinking or playing tacticus in a side chamber somewhere below.

Sheriff Constaban climbed the many steps of the watch tower and looked out over the wasted landscape. There was still some green poking up from the frozen lava field. It looked quiet, but Constaban knew better. A dwarf couldn't take more than five steps without catching a chest full of arrows from kobolds or cannibal elves.

“It's down there,” said the guards-dwarf. “At the gate.”

“Then why haven't you killed it?” asked Constaban.

“I don't think its armed,” said the guard, pointing with his crossbow.

The gate swung open and Constaban emerged, flanked by castle guards and covered from above by a squad of elite marks-dwarves. The kobold looked incredibly small and pathetic in the face of certain death. It was holding something in its hands which it placed at Constaban's feet as the dwarf approached. The sheriff bent and retrieved the package.

“Where did you get this?” asked the sheriff.

The kobold responded with the typical indecipherable chatter, but the meaning was clear. Constaban held in his hands the crown of Spearspark, the lost fortress of old. The war was over. The dwarves cheered for joy. But there was something more. If the kobolds had found the ancient fortress, they knew the location of the adamantine mother-lode.

Insanity Prelude

(1. I forgot, sometime in 2009)

c@,.ccccccccccc@ccccc@ccc@cccccccccc

Kittens roamed through the halls, as dwarf tanner Kramer worked the cat skins. It seemed his work would never end. The uncounted vermin in the fortress made the cat bellies full, and they bred out of control. Baron Zarkin issued a final order: "Suffer no cat to live." Death squads searched the corridors for felines, and brought the bodies to Kramer. It was a tough job; Kramer admired cats for their aloofness. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was cat-lord Tainaria.

"Who are you?" asked Kramer.

"Who I am is not important," said the beast-woman. "Don't you feel that what you are doing is wrong?"

"Yes," said the dwarf, "but…"

(2. December 10, 2009)

cccc,c,.C@.

"Stomer," said Tainaria, snapping her clawed fingers, "take him."

An enormous walking cat emerged from the shadows. It was striped and grey with a round golden belly. In its paws it held a large brown sack. The cat people pounced on Kramer, tackling him to the ground. They kicked and stomped him until he was knocked senseless. Tainaria looked on as Stomer poured the dwarf into the sack.

Kramer awoke, suffocating in the damp confines of the sack that was his prison. The sack bounced up and down as the cat ran. At last Kramer was thrown down onto the mud. He peered out of the bag into the nauseating sunlight. He felt a sharp kick to his ribs.

"Come out, killer!" shouted Tainaria.

The dwarf crawled out onto the mossy ground. He looked around as the tall trees and thick green ferns.

"This is the elf forest," said Kramer.

Stomer drew his lips back across his teeth in a grotesque mockery of a smile.

"You," said Kramer, "you're not going to leave me out here!?"

Kittah_Khan

(12th January, 2010)

,.,~E/~..,.@,..@g@@@

Doom approached with the morning light. At any moment, Thun expected the elves to come along the high branch to his wooden cage. He had been taken while drinking with his dwarves at a fortified position along the southern front. The elves pounced on them like hungry lions and disarmed them before they could fight back. Staring through the bars of his cage at the ground so far below, Thun remembered how his friends had been taken from the cage and dragged away, lost to hope. The elves appeared before the cage bars. The door swung open and Thun struck, spraying the air with a fine red mist.

Ninzul, he called it, the Wooden Axe of Freedom. Possessed by a strange mood, Thun worked all night in the cage, carving the master-work weapon from the wood of the bars with his fingernails. With scant effort, Thun hacked his way through the elven guards. The crazed dwarf swung from tree to tree, knocking arrows out of the air with Ninzul. The elves close behind him. Something gave way, and Thun looked up to see an elf cutting away his vine. Thun let out a hoot as he plunged toward the forest floor.

"We must have him," said the elf prince, "to lose him, after what he has done, would disgrace us to the Forest Spirit."

"Yes, Prince Altera," said the elf woman.

The elf ruler called for his Jay. Two elves dragged the giant blue bird from his pen. Altera mounted the great bird. His woman, elf mistress Renere, leapt onto the saddle behind him. She held in her hands Creneri, the bow of courage. Prince Altera knew there was no hope for the dwarf but, not being the kind to leave things to chance, he called for the chipmunk men.

Soon the tree was crawling with small, hairy creatures, vaguely humanoid.

"You will tell every animal person in the kingdom to hunt for this dwarf," ordered the prince. "Every needle of the forest will turn against him."

The heart in his chest felt as though it would beat right out of him. His lungs burned like forge fire. He looked to his side to see a man in green hopping along next to him. It turned to him revealing a horribly distorted insectoid face. A grasshopper man. Thun skidded to a halt and wielded the axe over his head.

"I yield, great warrior," said insect in his clicking way. "I come, show you not all creatures follow the elf prince."

"What have you to gain from aiding my escape?" asked Thun, lowering his weapon.

"The dwarves in the south," said the grasshopper man. "If you lead them back this way, they will put an end to the elves?"

The dwarf looked down at his new green friend. "That," he said, "I promise you."

--

Explosions rocked the southern fortifications as the giant hawks dropped great boulders and bags of poison gas. Thun looked through a slit in the fortress wall. The elf forest was only a ballista shot away. Already the sky was traced with fiery shots from the siege engines, slamming into the trees beyond. The dwarf warlord approached the hero.

"It will take three more weeks before our fortifications are close enough to strike the heart of the forest," said the warlord. "I'm told you could put an end to this contest."

"I can lead your vanguard to the heart of the forest," said Thun.

The dwarven leader looked at the legendary axe and back at Thun. He nodded.

The air was quiet as Thun and his dwarves approached through the tall grass. The barrage had been called off to lure the elves into a false sense of security. The smell was sweet with burning wood. The ground was covered with smoldering craters where the elves had quenched the dwarven fireballs. Further inside, the grasshopper man was waiting.

Through a dry creek the dwarves marched. They held their crossbows at the ready. The grasshopper man signaled for them to stop. He pointed with one of his arms. Thun saw them at once, five elves and a jaguar man, waiting to ambush them. The dwarf did not fail to notice one of the elf women was carrying a masterpiece bow of dwarven design.

The dwarves made their way up out of the stream bed and encircled the elves. The jaguar man smelled them and tried to cry out but was silenced by a dwarven bolt. Shots fired in all directions. The elves split and fought to break away. Thun marked the elf leader's bow and ran after her. She turned and loosed an arrow at his face. He ducked just in time and looked behind to see a young sapling torn in two by the shot.

"You cannot defeat Renere," said the elf.

Thun drew back the wooden axe and flung it at the elf's head, but it smashed into the tree behind her after striking off her ear.

"My ear!" cried Renere. "You will pay for this insult."

The elf threw down the bow and yanked Ninzul out of the tree trunk. The other dwarves filed into the clearing. Thun held up his hand. The elf was his. Silently, the fighters circled. The dwarves never wanted this war, just logs for the furnaces. Now, looking at this bleeding fanatic, Thun knew that the feud could only end by final victory.

Hazmat

(24 April 2010)

 ||U+++WWWbbbbWb 

Night, thief of all cheer. When has the sun set on a happy soul in Bonverland? Everyone knows the terror that lurks behind every shadow, ever since the evil knight Galrod took up residence in Highthorn castle. Werewolves and blendecs were at his command. It was said that only one thing could end his cursed life, the Golden Shank of Allmine. The people wailed with misery, for the shank was said to be in the deep dungeon of a dwarf fortress many leagues to the east. It was a time of mass panic. That was until the hero Mandack arrived.

Kaltor

(30 April 2010)

 ,E..U~~~ 

Ash rained from the sky for ten years. Few were alive that could retell the story of that dreadful day, the day the dragon came. Through the dusty haze of the burned forest, one could often see elves moving about, hopelessly searching the ground for seeds of the sacred trees. Death ruled that mirthless place, and all who dwelt there did so in mourning and at the mercy of the dragon.

It was then, ten years since the massacre, that the hero Brandish arrived. He followed the clear stream from the mountain into the ravaged valley. It was then that he stopped to fill his jug. He found the stream water had a strange taste. It was not water -- it was tears.

"What are doing in this wasted valley?" came a voice.

Brandish turn to see an elf girl, starving and covered in rags.

"I come to slay the dragon," said the hero.

(2 March 2012)

~~~~~~~U~~~~~~  ?D?

The elf threw her head back and laughed as a man would at a fool. Brandish, angered, threw down his jug. Deep in his heart he was terrified of the little girl, for she was a tool of the dragon. He cursed himself for a coward and stepped forward. The elf looked at him with tired eyes filled hate.

"Sometimes I hope you would kill me," said the dragon through the girl's lips. "It has been a long ten years with nothing to chew on but dry bones."

"If it's death you want," said Brandish, "you shall have it."

Taken by a sudden fit of tremors, the girl moved this way and that, then collapsed into a pile of dust. After a minute, Brandish let his hand fall from the hilt of his weapon. He wondered if this whole valley was peopled only by ghosts and monsters.

Deeper into the wastes he traveled. Here were the black outlines of buildings and the ashen shadows where people and animals fell. Doubt took his heart once more. He had braved death a thousand times, but this was different. It was said that the dragon could look into your very soul. Brandish did not want to know what weakness the monster would find.

Kaelis Ebonrai

(22 June 2010)

###UH/###,.,..UH,g.gg,g.ggggg

The fierce warrior brushed the feathers out of his face as the battle hawk circled for another dive. He slapped the neck of his winged steed and leaned low, one hand on the reins, the other on his deadly javelins. Since the time of the first legends, Geldrix and his men had been bird riders. The ground rushed by as the hawk dove. The goblins never knew what hit them. Spears fell from the sky like rain. Talons tore and beaks pecked. Seeing the enemy commander, Geldrix took the dagger from his teeth and launched from his saddle.

The enemy general rode proud in the saddle. His dark metal armor was festooned with black roses. Geldrix tackled him off his horse with the force of a meteor. Sitting astride the evil knight, Geldrix marked the spot for the death stroke. As his knife plunged toward the knight's neck, a gauntlet seized him by the wrist. Geldrix smiled. There is still some fight in this one, he thought. He flipped back the enemy's visor and was shocked by what he saw.

Beneath him lay by far the most beautiful woman in the world. Pain shocked Geldrix's system as he suffered a blow to the lower body. He rolled to the side, his eyes shut tight in pain. He could hear the woman knight curse him as she kicked him about the neck and head. Others came, and he was bound. He opened his eyes and found himself lashed to the back of a horse. There was nowhere they could take him that the hawkmen could not find him, but would he be whole when he was found?

(6 September 2010)

+u~+U++U+UUUUUU

Geldrix returned to Hawkvir half a man. Something was missing. He moved like a shadow, avoiding the company of his fellow warriors. A fair lass came to him, offering a cup of wine. He knocked it away, spilling dark liquid onto the carpet of the royal hall. All went silent as the king rose from his throne. Geldrix hid his face with his cloak, staring at the king with a single maddened eye as he approached. The guards opened a door and the king ushered Geldrix outside, into a narrow passage. Once they were alone, he spoke.

"What happened to you out there?" asked the king. "What was it like to be a prisoner of the goblins?"

"I was defeated," said Geldrix, sobbing. "I can never be a hawk rider again. I did not escape, as I told the others. I was traded to the dwarves for a crate of dimple-dyed cloth."

The king looked down on the broken man that was once captain of the riders and shook his head slowly.

"Surely there is something you can live for," shouted the king. "Revenge, perhaps?"

Geldrix found it difficult to take the saddle, having spent so long on the earth. Now in the air, he watched the trails for Zona, warrior princess of the goblins. It was all her fault, he kept telling himself. He would strike her down and his manhood would be restored. His hand trembled at the reins. Memories of his time underground came flooding back. Then his eye caught something on the road below, two riders heading for the dark mountain.

(26 September 2010)

.,.".,"~~,.".,.@,.g||,.

Flying low over the road, Geldrix pulled the hood over his head. With a double flip, he launched through the air and landed before the riders. The two goblins sat upon their beak dogs glancing at each other. Geldrix drew his sword and turned his head to the side, staring out of the hood with one hateful eye. The goblins dismounted and took up their heavy iron spiked clubs. One of the goblins stepped forward.

"Show your face," it said, "so we can tell tales of which mighty hero we slew."

Geldrix's face burned with anger and shame.

"Coward?" said the mocking goblin. "Is that it?"

At last, he could take it no more. He threw back his hood, his blond curls blowing in the wind.

"Geldrix?" laughed the goblin. "You have a lot of nerve showing your face around here."

"Boo!" shouted the goblin. Overwhelmed by fear, Geldrix dropped his sword and ran. His hawk landed before him but died instantly as a crossbow bolt struck its eye. Geldrix collapsed onto the carcass, openly weeping. The goblins approached, chuckling and calling out cruel jokes. Geldrix screamed out to the heavens. He stood, ripping out two handfuls of feathers. When the goblins reached him, he threw the feathers in their faces and ran, to where the gods only knew.

Breaths came hot and stinging, his boots ankle deep in the forest swamp. Geldrix felt his extreme shame. He was not a warrior, not even a man. He was the ultimate traitor to all the hawk men, his cowardice now a thing of legend. He planted his butt in a muddy puddle and looked up to see a gremlin sitting on a high tree branch.

"Don't worry, son," said the creature. "We all have a little rabbit in us."

Japa

(27th December, 2010)

llllllllllllllllllll,.@,.@@@@@@@@@@@@

There was a beast called the Strangler that lived deep in the forest. No one knew what forces woke it, but one night it scaled the walls of the dwarf fortress with its four long arms and caught the dwarf king as he was star gazing on the royal balcony. Without a moment's hesitation, the monster pitched the king over the side to meet a violent death at the base of the mountain.

At dawn's light the dwarves set out in search of the creature. Captain Aliz, who had been trusted with the safeguarding of the king's life, now sought vengeance. He lead his posse of a dozen dwarves, with twenty gray langurs leading the way. As they entered the forest Aliz pounded his chest and prayed the Forge Father for victory.

(4th February, 2011)

lllllTS-@,lllll,.@@@@

At the base of an ancient tree, a langur called out. As the dwarves came rushing, swords drawn, more gray langurs scaled the tree. The strangler stirred from its den. Its four muscular arms flexed as it crawled from the knot in the tree. It blinked its three black eyes and gave out a loud hoot through its shark-like teeth.

The monkeys pounced one after another and the strangler knocked them away. They kept coming and even the four hands of the monster were not enough to swat them all. The langurs grabbed onto the monster's legs. Others mounted the strangler's head and poked its eyes as the dwarves cheered below.

Branches cracked and snapped as the strangler fell. With a mighty crunch, the monster slammed into the forest floor. As the dwarves closed in, the strangler coughed up blood, clearly dying. Aliz prodded his sword under the creature's chin.

"Who sent you?" demanded the dwarf.

"You know very well who," said the monster as it died.

(23rd May, 2011)

++Ao@++

It could only be Malfacto, the evil necromancer. Once Malfacto was a greedy dwarf with his eyes on the throne. Universally loathed, the wretched dwarf wandered the wilds, finding that not even the animals would tolerate him. He wasted his days away, scavenging meat like a jackal and playing with bare bones.

It was at the depths of his insanity that a vision came to him. It was an angel clothed in darkness, a spirit of some foreign religion. It beckoned to him and he came, through the jungle and to a lost temple. As he neared the temple's entrance he had to do his best to avoid stepping on the human bones that littered the ground.

The entire time he was in the temple, Malfacto couldn't shake the feeling that the ever-present skulls turned to watch him. The shade lead him to the altar at the center of the ossuary. On top was a table marked with dashes and dots, some alien language. The angel moved its hand over the markings and they became words in the dwarven tongue.

Such were the beginnings of Malfacto, and Aliz knew he had to stop him. No dark wizard would sit on the throne. He ordered the monkeys made ready. There would be more than jungle monsters to hunt tonight.

(24th April, 2012)

@/+++ahssGccbGshggg

The forest was creepy, dark and deep, but Aliz had far to go before he reached Malfacto's temple. The monkeys fanned out, beating the bushes and trees and howling as Aliz loaded a bolt into his crossbow. How low could a dwarf sink?, he thought. Malfacto the dark wizard. Malfacto the cannibal cultist. It would all end tonight.

Something rushed through the bushes, excited by the grey langurs. Aliz aimed his weapon. It was a rhesus macaque, the eyes of the enemy. The animal just barely dodged the bolt shooting past its left ear. Aliz hooted to his monkeys and they gave chase.

When the dwarf monkey master reached the macaque, it wasn't in good shape. Aliz came to it and grabbed it by the chin. He raised its head to him and stared into its remaining eye.

"Malfacto," said Aliz, "I know you are in there. Know you will pay for the life you took, your rightful king."

-

"Master?" asked the australopithecus. "Did you have the dream again?"

"The hero is near," said Malfacto, rising from his sarcophagus. "Ready the apes."

The creature ran from the room panting as the evil wizard brushed the dust from his robes. Once the champion was dead, nothing would stand between him and the crown. Slowly, he made his way to the top of the pyramid. Venomous plants snaked their way all over the stone slabs. Once at the top, he surveyed his army. Hundreds of simians of all types and descriptions jumped and howled before the temple. A homo habilis arrived with Malfacto's staff. Taking it, he spoke.

"Soon they will know to fear our power!" shouted Malfacto.

A siamang began to hoot and soon all the apes were howling and beating their chests. The jungle was alive with hatred. Aliz could hear them from almost a league away. It was clear now that the wizard must be stopped. Aliz could very well be the only dwarf standing between the fortress and oblivion.

Gunslinger

(7 January 2011)

aa,.a,.W,.%,%%,.T

The wizard walked barefoot along the sandy lake bottom, schools of axolotls swimming around his toes. Through the murky water, the wizard could see the remains of a wrecked ship. The salamanders guided him through a hole in the wooden hull. In the darkness the wizard noticed the faintest light. It was coming from a chest half buried in the sand.

Before the wizard could open the treasure chest a shock wave shot through the water, knocking the wizard flat on his back. The ship tore in half revealing a huge monster covered in waving aquatic plants. It was the titan of the lake. The axolotls scattered in all directions. The wizard scuttled backward. He could not speak, making his charms useless. It was to be a battle of flesh and steel.

Haggle

(18 January 2011)

@@@@++U+%++||,.,.MU,.MU,.MU

"Toward the light," cried Sot, master of the moth riders. The squadron descended in wild corkscrews, falling toward the dwarf fortress. But Sot had dived too soon. Flaming arrows shot up from the castle walls, confusing the giant insects. Sot's mount took three hits and died in mid air. The moth leader took the reins hard and tried to pull the moth out of a death spiral. He hit the ground hard and rolled across the paved stone, jumping up in a combat stance. When he saw the two dozen dwarves that approached him, he took off his chitin helmet, pointed at the closest dwarf and spoke.

"Let's see what you've got, half-man."

Haedrian

(11 August 2011)

++@=@++++

Inside or outside, the dwarf fortress was an ugly place. Black smoke rose from its misshapen stacks, and beneath the menacing gatehouse, poor hill-dwarves moved under armed guard to bring their offerings to Count Agak.

The Count had long been allergic to light. His case of cave adaptation was more pronounced than any ever known. His skin was pale and shot through with spidery veins. His eyes were red and bloodshot. Even in the dark, he looked sickly, and he never touched a morsel on the feast days.

"The Count is a vampire," said Roder.

"Silence," said fair Nel. "What if the guards hear you?"

"Tell me you aren't suspicious," said Roder. "Have you ever seen the Count eat or drink? Or his guards? I don't know if I would even recognize them underneath their plated armor. No. We need proof. Then we need deliverance."

jmullan

(2 March 2012)

(I donated in honor of my friend Zach J's birthday, since he is too afraid to play DF)

@@||,.,,..,.,U..,uuuuUuu

The dwarf fortress at Mount Hope was once the pride of the empire. Pilgrims came from every corner of Allsphere to glory in its great halls and carved pillars. But years pass, and all that shines goes dim. The empire was overthrown and monsters roamed freely through the land. Some sought shelter at Mt. Hope and were always turned away. It was this discourtesy that would spell the doom of the fortress.

"Will you let us in?" shouted the monk.

"No, sir!" laughed the dwarf from the high wall. "Find somewhere else to die."

"Why not just take the little ones?" pleaded the monk. "Even if they were vampires, they couldn't do much harm."

"Take your lying, no good carcass of my property," said the dwarf, "or I will shoot you down."

The monk was still for a moment.

"You will find," said the holy man, "that your walls don't protect you from the evils of this world. They were built to hold a greater evil inside. In time you beg to be let out."

The dwarves pelted the refugees with rocks until they fled. They did not give a single thought to the monk's warning, but they would all remember it when the time came. It was only a matter of days before the killings started. A dwarf would go missing for a week, then a body would turn up drained of blood, and that was only the beginning.

Jupotter

(3 March 2012)

////+++U\N+\\\\

At the top of the great stone temple, the high priest vampire held a bone dagger over the victim under the light of the full moon. The evil spirit rose over the altar, changing the moonlight to a blood red hue. Another heartbeat and the victim's eyes snapped open. A scream tore the night as the final blow fell.

"If it is spring, Grandfather," said the kid, "why are the days getting colder?"

Old man Udma patted the boy on the shoulder. This could only mean one thing. Gonra had returned. Upon reaching to his hut, Udma found his hiding place and retrieved the sword Sangrak, the vampire slayer. But he could no longer wield it. If the world was to be saved, a true hero must be found.

Hellrider

(12 April 2012)

++g+++@@@

Goblin master thief Garu picked his way through the irrigation ditch of the dwarf fortress. The dwarves were fools to leave the floodgate open during the dry season. There were fewer traps down there. It wasn't long before he reached the mushroom fields. There were a few gardeners here and there but nothing that proved much of a challenge.

Once inside, Garu shed his black cloak in exchange for the robes of a monk of Alak. He passed silently by the dwarves, a long hood hiding his face. Slowly, he made his way to the meeting hall. There were a bunch of dwarf youths posing and trying to look tough.

"You are impressive," said Garu.

"What's it to you, holy dwarf?" said the most obnoxious of the dwarves.

"It's just that I heard from Zuglar that you were a weakling and a coward," said Garu. "He said he'd wait for you in the lower warehouse if you were dwarf enough."

"You tell that son of an elf I'll be there," shouted the dwarf.

kurtss

8 May 2012

U|,,.UH-,.,-Bg,,.|

The riders aimed their lances. It was to be a contest of skill and righteousness. The goblin's beak dog chirped and kicked, pawing up the dirt of the jousting track. Sir Benefact lifted his lance in salute of Princess Marmalade. Just then the goblin charged. Benefact had just enough time to wheel around and face his opponent.

Wood snapped as the lance found its mark. Blood shot like a fountain from Benefact's chest. He collapsed in the saddle, and fell from his horse. The goblin rode before the princess and gave his salute.

"What is your name, Sir knight?" asked Marmalade.

"Masterdad," said the goblin.

"Then, Sir Masterdad," said the princess, "you are the new champion."

landrus

25 May 2012

gggg,.-,.@.==@,.@,-.ggggg

"Death comes with the sun," was the call.

Goblins lined every hill and tree line. Evil impulses made their muscles pop and twitch. It had been weeks since they had any fresh flesh, longer still since they had any loot to fight over. The bigger ones imagined the things they would take. The smaller ones imagined stabbing the bigger ones in the back and taking it for themselves.

The dwarf caravan had come to a halt in Wicked Forest as one of the wagons had broken down. They hadn't the parts so Kobem ordered the wood cutters to fashion some from the local trees. As the day dragged on the dwarves began to see a night in Wicked Forest as a real possibility. They worked into the night, all the while coyotes and other spooky animals called and brayed.

"I have never been so grateful to see the sun," said Sigun.

No kidding, thought Kobem. He had been working underground, organizing this caravan for seven weeks. When he finally saw daylight he was sick for two days. Now in the predawn light, Kobem was indeed grateful. Who knows how many night creatures haunted this ill-named forest. The first rays of the sun fell across the wagons. Sigun turned, smiling at his master.

Blood splattered across Kobem's chest. Kobem froze as Sigun's body sank to the ground in slow motion. Firebrands and sling bullets landed among the dwarves. Kobem collected his wits and dove under the nearest wagon. It couldn't be kobolds. They were never this brazen. Goblins then. Their leader had guile to attack when they least expected it.

Now all Kobem needed was a crossbow. He looked out from beneath the wagon at the body of a fallen marks-dwarf still clutching his weapon in his dead hands. Kobem launched from his hiding place, racing past struggling goblins and dwarves. Almost there, Kobem was blocked by a stocky goblin in full plated armor. Angry eyes burned behind the visor.

The evil knight struck first, bringing his iron mace down onto Kobem's skull. It was a glancing blow, but messy. Kobem fell to one knee. The knight sucked in a breath and raised his weapon once more. That was when Kobem drove his fist into the fighter's lower body, smashing vital organs. Kobem grabbed him by the chest plate and slammed him to the ground. He picked up the mace and flipped the knight's visor open.

"Urist?" asked Kobem.