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

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.

Laod

(15 October 2006)

T..o..T

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

--Laod 15 October 2006

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."

— 71.230.107.222 12:28, 14 May 2007 (EDT)

The Toad Preservation Society

Toady One and ThreeToe are continuously working on Dwarf Fortress since 4 years (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)

..=#  #############~~~# %
[@.#########.%-.%.#~~~#  '
.=..........@.-....~~~#,
############..@%-.#~~~####
   ` '###########.=====........##
 %    #############~~~####

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)

  ##.##
  #..=#  #############~~~# %
###[@.#########.%-.%.#~~~#  '
...@=.@..........-....~~~#,
###############...%-.#~~~########..
      ` '###########.=====....@.&.##
    %    #############~~~########..

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 !!

 ##.##
  #..=#  #############~~~# %
###[..#########.%-.%.#~~~#  '
...@=.@.........@-....~~~#,
###############...%-.#~~~########&.
      ` '###########.=====@.@@.@%&##
    %    #############~~~########.& 

.

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...

 ##.##
  #..=#  #############~~~# %
###[..#########.%-.%.#~~~#  '
...@=.@..........-....~~~#,
###############...%-.#~~~########..
      ` '###########.=====@.%%%-&%##
    %    #############~~~########.. 

.

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):

@@.####
.@@++d+
@.@####

.

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)

  ##################
   #++++++++++d+++++++..
####+@+O++O++O+dOd+&#
+++++@+++++++++d+++@#
####+@+O++O++O++Od++#
   #++++++++++d+d++@#
   ##################

"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)

   ##################
   #+d+++++++%++++++++..
####d@dO++O++O%%O+%&#
++++d@d+++%%++++%%%%#
####d@dO+%O%+O+%O%%@#
   #+d+d+%++%%%+++%@#
   ##################

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.

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!

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."

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."