v50 Steam/Premium information for editors
  • v50 information can now be added to pages in the main namespace. v0.47 information can still be found in the DF2014 namespace. See here for more details on the new versioning policy.
  • Use this page to report any issues related to the migration.
This notice may be cached—the current version can be found here.

Difference between revisions of "40d:Stories"

From Dwarf Fortress Wiki
Jump to navigation Jump to search
(→‎Rimrise's TragediesDF: tomorrow, breaking news: rimrise's joys - oh wait that's not newsworthy stop the reel)
m (Rated article "Fine" using the rating script)
 
(48 intermediate revisions by 7 users not shown)
Line 1: Line 1:
−
These are stories created by users based on their experiences in-game. They take what happened in-game, and go into more detail. Feel free to add your own!
+
{{Quality|Fine|07:29, 25 April 2013 (UTC)}}{{av}}
 +
==Something Awful - Let's Play Dwarf Fortress==
 +
'''IMPORTANT: The amount of cursing used in the following stories <s>is very bad</s> would make a dwarf's head explode. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.'''
  
−
=== Goblins from hell raiding Rocksbowed<sup>DF</sup>  ===
+
===Boatmurdered===
 +
The one that started it all. Read it [http://lparchive.org/LetsPlay/Boatmurdered/intro.html here]. (Note that Boatmurdered is from a quite old 2d version of the game, and should probably be in [[23a:Stories]] if that page gets constructed.)
  
−
This new fort of mine is a real piece of work! It has all the features (for now) it should have. On top of a high cliff facing some woodlands stands the keep of "Rocksbowed", a smaller fort with defensive towers and an elevated drawbridge. The walls are thick and the drawbridge is always up, these dwarves are apparently cautious.
+
===Headshoots===
 +
The modern equivalent of Boatmurdered. Read it [http://lparchive.org/LetsPlay/Headshoots here].
  
−
Only selected trustable merchants are told of the hidden tunnel leading into the fortress. The call sign of this entrance is the statue formation on top and the moos of a chained muskox calf. When having passed the beast the tunnel leads across several bridges known too keep visitors from falling down a 50 meters deep chasm and exploding against the rock floor.
+
===Syrupleaf===
 +
The sequel to Headshoots, being just as epic, and even longer. Read it [http://lparchive.org/LetsPlay/Syrupleaf/index.html here].
  
−
After the bridges the road circles a sealed battlement with no access from the road, making the defenders inside impervious to possible melee invaders. The acecess point is said to be from deep inside the dwarven habitat. Following the road further ends in the Trade Depot shining in alunite against the gloomy felsite walls, this one also encircled with battlements. Sometimes you can even spot the dwarves standing behind those fortifications, aiming their bolts at the guards. Although a safe place to trade in, it feels creepy.
+
==Archives==
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 1]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 2]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 3]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 4]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 5]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 6]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 7]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 8]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 9]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 10]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 11]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 12]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 13]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 14]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 15]]
 +
*[[Stories/Archive 16]]
  
−
I stayed behind after our caravan left this time, waiting for the dwarven broker to finish doing what he was doing. After trading he simply continued his chores ignoring me, leaving me by the depot to wait until he pleased to conduct our meeting.
+
[[category:Stories]]
−
 
 
−
With an ecstatic look on his face, ecstatic for a dwarf that is, and reeking of dwarven ale he finally showed climbing the broad staircase. Shaking my hand with a grip that could crush a rock into sand he greeted me, and told how he had been mining rubies. Also he added that he had finally been given some proper office furniture, and his complaints had made them exceed his expectations.
 
−
 
 
−
We arrived in his office and i amazed at the office. Urist now had golden furniture encrusted with what i identified as heliodors. Two statues, a table and two chairs. Quite the improvement from the sloppily made felsite table and chair.  These new furniture items obviously had had some effort put into them.
 
−
 
 
−
My caravan long gone we sat and talked for awhile, and i immediatly expressed my interest in the rubies he had talked about, which made him frown quite badly. The dwarves have had a year of prosperity it seemed, as using currency for our trades was our main topic. The meeting carried on and we were served some delicious dwarven roasts of cave fish, plump helmets and cow cheese. Urist also brought some of the special ale reserve for us to enjoy, these dwarves really had a good last year.
 
−
 
 
−
The meeting was done, and i took my leave from "Rocksbowed" glad of how the negotiations had proceeded. Urist even promised me some rubies next time we arrived.
 
−
 
 
−
When passing the bridges on the way out, i noticed the silence in the entrance. The muskox always moos otherwise! This was when i saw the torches and the faded glimmer of grey iron armor on narrow silhouettes. Goblins!
 
−
 
 
−
Standing still for a couple of seconds, paralyzed, i could hear chewing noises and see one of the narrow creatures feeding on what obviously was the muskox. Suddenly i snapped out of it, and began silently sprinting down the tunnel picking up the pace as i got further from the gobbos.
 
−
 
 
−
INVADERS! I shouted at the top of my lungs when i arrived at the depot. The one guard standing there looked awfully calm, grinning at me. "It is taken care of, don't you worry" the stout warrior spoke. I noticed the bulk of the character, and the fact that he was wearing a full iron armor wielding an iron shield and spear. "I am assigned to guard you if you were to return here. They call me Battlegalley, i'm the strongest warrior here in Rocksbowed and that is not implying that my comrades are weak. You are safe, just relax"
 
−
 
 
−
Suddenly my shoulders dropped, and my body collapsed from the long sprint i had taken. Fear swept away as i remembered the dwarves' formidable defences, and the fact that the goblins would probably not pass the battlement on the way. As i sat down i admired the huge warrior, proud and stout in his mighty armor and weapons.
 
−
 
 
−
Screams were heard from the tunnel and Battlegalley reacted, the screams were dwarven. Another dwarven soldier came up the staircase, and ran up to my guardian. "It's the Dreadshaft goblins, they passed the arrows with their mighty shields" the soldier spoke, and i noticed figures running towards us from the tunnel. Battlegalley and his comrade ran up shouting a mighty battlecry, charging the goblins head on.
 
−
 
 
−
As i saw it, but i might be wrong as it happened in the blink of an eye, was like this. Battlegalley first thrusted at his adversary with a mighty blow, blocked by the goblins shield which then countered his attack instantly with a spear to the face, Battlegalley fell immediately. The other soldier fought defensively but bravely against two opponents before falling, and as i turned and ran something got stuck in my back and i passed out.
 
−
 
 
−
I woke up to the amazing care of dwarven healthcare, they really do everything to care for those injured in terms of bringing food and water. Unfortunately i heard that this viscious gobin raid had been the death of 17 dwarves. The Dreadshaft gobins are no joking matter apparently.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
=== The tale of General Kib<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
 
 
−
Seven enterprising dwarves, tired of their old lives in the mountainhomes, decided to found their own settlement. It would be hard, they knew, but also very rewarding if they suceeded. They brought meat and alcohol, some pickaxes, an axe, an anvil, and a cat.
 
−
 
 
−
The seven dwarves surveyed their surroundings upon their arrival. Sheer cliffs, 80 feet tall, stood to the west and south; to the other, was a river, and a great chasm cleft through the mountains. To the north was a grove of trees and some more cliffs. The only way to leave now, was to hack through the antmen at the chasm's mouth.
 
−
 
 
−
The seven dwarves steeled their resolve, and set about making their home. One dwarf could administrate. One dwarf could mine. One dwarf could cut trees. One dwarf could work stone. One dwarf could cook, and gather plants. But none of these six dwarves are the hero of this tale; his name was Kib. And he could fish.
 
−
 
 
−
While the other dwarves dug, chopped, and hauled, Kib sat on his own by the river and fished. All the time, stopping only to eat, drink, or consume alcohol. He was so preoccupied with his fishing he never even went to the refuse pile to deficate. But, as the first winter came and went, Kib proved himself valuable to his settlement; since the river never dried, Kib was able to supply meat to the others all year round. Since the crops had been late in planting, Kib's fish kept all seven dwarves alive through winter.
 
−
 
 
−
Next year, the furnaces were running. The Furnace Operator pulled off a feat of magic: without any reagents or fuel, he produced a weapon of adamantine and armor of mithril. That day, there was a meeting in the fortress.
 
−
 
 
−
"We must clear the pass of antmen," declared the leader. Everyone had a reason not to be a warrior, but Kib's reason was weakest; since the crops were growing, Kib's fishing talents were no longer needed. So Kib put on his mithril plate mail, took up his mace, and marched towards the antmen blocking the pass.
 
−
 
 
−
The antmen were a fearsome sight. With more legs than brains, and more chitin plating than legs, Kib knew that these were beasts to be reckoned with. Still, the advantage was his: he had <s> hacked</s> wondrous metal equipment. He charged down the nearest antman, and struck in the leg with his mace, breaking it. It struck back, but its blow glanced off Kib's plate mail. Kib took out three more legs; then, with a grunt and a herculean swing, struck the beast and sent it flying against the cliff wall. He killed several more antmen in this fashion, clearing the pass to the fortress for traders and giving hope to his friends.
 
−
 
 
−
Kib's title of 'recruit' was replaced with 'general', and is now known as "Kib Worktrot the Carnality of Droplets, general". He has defended the fortress against dozens of ambushes, cleared the lining of a chasm of hostile beasts, and makes all residents feel safe.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===The Legend of the Cursed River<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
In the early years of the Squarebridged, fishing and hunting were grand professions. They worked together to keep a healthy supply of food coming in. The hunters would keep the land clean of terrible beasts, and the fisherdwarves would stay by the river and find the tastiest of all the fish. This was true for many years as the fortress prospered, until the hunters stopped hunting.
 
−
The hunters we're killed defending the fortress from the goblin ambushes and sieges of the time. At first the fisherdwarves didn't see a difference in the amount of fish they were able to get from the river. In fact they were catching more fish.
 
−
 
 
−
"We don't need those silly hunters." said Alath as he was fishing along the shores.
 
−
 
 
−
"Of course we don't, we're doing just fine." replied Tyr.
 
−
 
 
−
Then one day, a fish they had never seen before appeared in the river.
 
−
 
 
−
"Tyr, have you seen this fish before?" asked Dim.
 
−
 
 
−
"No Dim, I haven't. Are you going to catch it?" inquired Tyr.
 
−
 
 
−
"Of course I am!" proclaimed Dim.
 
−
 
 
−
So Dim cast his lure into the water trying to entice this unseen fish. However this was no ordinary fish, It was not swayed by Dim's lure or any other lure in the river. This fish was a monster. Dim was patiently waiting for the fish to bite his lure when, It jumped out of the water and with force of three bears, knocked him into the river. This once seemingly innocent fish had shown it's fangs and now Dim was wrestling with it underwater. Dim struggled to get free from the monstrous fish, but it was too fast. It bit, struck, and killed dim quite quickly. But before Dim fell to the fish, he realized what kind it was. "Only the hunters spoke of this fish" thought Dim, "It's the legendary Carp!" On the surface, things were much different while Dim was losing his life.
 
−
 
 
−
"Have you seen Dim?" asked Alath.
 
−
 
 
−
"Nope. Maybe he went in for a drink." replied Tyr.
 
−
 
 
−
After the carp had finished killing Dim, it looked around for more prey. It saw Tyr's feet  dangling in the river.
 
−
 
 
−
"Didn't Dim say he was going to catch this fish?" inquired Tyr.
 
−
 
 
−
"Well he's not here, so why don't you catch it?" replied Alath.
 
−
 
 
−
So Tyr cast his lure into the water hoping to entice the fish. The carp didn't care for the lure that had fallen in front of it. It quickly swam around and went straight for Tyr's feet, lazily dangling in the river. The carp revealed it's fangs yet again. It bit onto Tyr's feet and pulled him underwater before Tyr could even begin to scream. Tyr was now being bitten and having his feet ripped right off of him! Tyr was no match for this monster of a fish.
 
−
 
 
−
On the surface, Alath looked around quite puzzled and asked "Where is everyone?". He then went inside to check if they were on break, unknowing that his fellow fisherdwarves now rest at the bottom of a cursed river. Also unknowing, that if the hunters were still around, this would never have happened.
 
−
 
 
−
More fisherdwarves came back to fish, and the carp was still there. This time one of fisherdwarves saw the legendary monster as it leaped out to claim it's next victim. He was so terrified that he ran to the mayor and told him of his finds. The mayor was so concerned, he stationed a squadron of archers along the shores to see if they could kill this demon. But the archers could not see this demon for what it was. They all thought it was a uncatchable salmon eluding all the lures of the fisherdwarves. The number of deaths increased as they were oblivious the dying dwarves right next to them. The mayor didn't know what to do. He thought and thought until he came to a solution. The mayor had banned all fishing in the fortress, and declared the river be built over. This way, the area could still be used, and there would be no deaths. Or so the Mayor thought. Masons came with stone and blocks to construct a floor over the river. But the demon carp was too tricky. It began to claim the lives of the Masons as they tried to build over the river. An elite sword dwarf also met his demise to the demon carp, though he did give the greatest fight. Some say he would have almost won.
 
−
 
 
−
After the deaths of many Masons, Carpenters, Craftdwarves, Fisherdwarves, and even the
 
−
fortress' Trader, the Mayor was truly concerned. He didn't want to completely seal the room off because there were flood gates and gear assemblies that gave the fortress water. So he came to another solution. The room would be forbidden unless a dwarf would be pulling a lever. And it was so. To this day, no dwarf dares venture to the river, unless they have business. After the 
 
−
events that have unfolded here during a month, the river was renamed the 'Cursed River' for all of the problems that it gave.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===Vengence, Thy Name Is Sibrek<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
It was a bright sunny day as a cheerful serf named Mosus steped outside to fetch himself a drink from the nearby river. He stooped down to cup some with his hand when suddenly, a rather territorial female alligator emerged from the water, clamping her jaws down on his head. He let out a yelp, but was soon unconscious. Mosus's brave war dog rushed to his aid, getting eaten in the process. Mosus lay there, forgotten about by the gator, streaks of blood throught the grass around him and a chunk of either skull or left arm lie at his side. When he awoke, he found that a carpenter by the name of Jesus had recovered him safely and taken him to his bed. His dear friend, the farmer, Sibrek brought him food and water everyday.
 
−
 
 
−
By the time Mosus was well enough to speak, Sibrek had already promised to avenge his fallen comrade, as most dwarves do not recover from head injuries. Sibrek rushed headlong into the river, punching and wrestling the green scaly beast in the water. He emerged onto the bank, alligator trailing behind him. The gator snapped and managed to badly mangle his left hand. He punched it oncemore in the head with his right arm, and as the beast gave it's final throes, Sibrek's other arm was injured as well. He removed the alligator's skin and rushed off to store it in the leather bin. Sibrek then passed out from bloodloss in the dining hall. A leatherworker made the hide into the finest alligator leather armor Mosus had ever seen, and he equipped it proudly. Sibrek's wounds only worsened as day by day he fell more and more ill. He was eventually stricken by melancholy, locked himself in the dining hall and died of thirst as dwarves all around him toasted to the quickly recovering Mosus's good health. Shortly after his burial, Jesus held a memorial party in the dining hall. Mosus attended. [[User:Datan|Datan]]
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
===The Story of Mistem Rockwave<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
My name is; that is to say, by the time my records are found, was, Mistem Rockwave. Formerly miner, now Book-Keeper and one of the last living members of our failed fortress; Regag. Gloved-daubed. So named because our expedition leader, the original at least, was a fool with no taste whatsoever.
 
−
 
 
−
I realise it is considered disrespectful to speak ill of the dead, but since I expect that I shall soon join them, grant me a boone in this. Of the original seven that journeyed here, and the group of nine immigrants that joined us soon thereafter, only I, my lover Ibok Fieldtrades, and the two young daughters of a dead immigrant remain.
 
−
 
 
−
I fear for the children. Little Logem and beautiful Stukos. They have lost everything, and our walled-in fortress will likely not see another four seasons. The food stockpiles may last, having been maintained until recently to support a much larger population. But the drink stockpiles dwindle, we have no water, and my lover destroyed the still in a fit of uncontrolled rage at the death of our good friends.
 
−
 
 
−
Trader caravans have passed this fortress, waiting outside the raised drawbridge for entry, and perhaps they bring much-needed supplies. But we will not permit them entry. I daren't lower the drawbridge and venture across the security of our high, fortified walls and moat. Not with the hordes of death and destruction looming beyond. Mostly, those visiting caravans are obliterated quickly by goblin hordes. Those that wait a little longer, meet a far more gristly death.
 
−
 
 
−
Our tale is an ambitious one, and a lesson in foolish pride, bad tactical thinking and naivete. I will start from the beginning, that you may see the great heights for which we aimed, and the speed with which we advanced, before the fall. Perhaps, were it not for that last great folly, we would have endured. And who could then predict how magnificent our fortress would have become? But, it was not to be. Read our tale; read, and learn from our mistakes...
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
Tekkud Tokumkivish, Mistem Tunasob, Dakost Lolumkabok Lorban Nilil, Dumat DokokulZest, Ibok Fikuknish and Mistem Iduker. These seven names, my lover, my brothers, my leader and I. We were so young, so brash and so ill-prepared. It seems so long ago, when in actuality but a few short years have passed since we believed we could take on the world.
 
−
 
 
−
A lone, travelling merchant had arrived in the dead of night in our mountainhomes. Bloodied, mortally wounded and half-mad. In his dying breaths, cradled in the arms of Tekkud, he had muttered tales of a nearby land of exciting, but risky prospects. Layers of rock and earth encrusted with precious metals, gems, perhaps even adamantine. Good, hard rock in which to carve a mighty fortress, but deep chasms filled with unholy creatures to test our courage, our strength. Tekkud, ever ambitious and tiring of his lowly trade duties, rallied and convinced us that we could forge a new mountainhome in such a volatile plain.
 
−
 
 
−
The mayor was, in time, convinced, and so we set out, across dry desert and choking jungle, over mountains and through valleys, to the land we had heard such tantalising things about. And indeed, there it was, magnificent and terrifying both as we looked down upon it from the edge of a cliff. There, in the distance, a great crack in the earth, wider than the mightiest river and so deep that the bottom, if there was one, disappeared into blackness. From a distance, we could see a few creatures roaming about the chasm. Their hulking, deformed bodies meandering aimlessly about. Trolls. And that wasn't all.
 
−
 
 
−
"Look! Brothers, over there! What is that?" cried Dumat, our woodcutter and carpenter. I followed his gaze, as did my brothers, and espied what, for a moment, I swore resembled the flicker of massive, leathery wings.
 
−
 
 
−
"We shall move with caution," ordered Tekkud. "Dig deep, far from the chasm, and exit only when we have need. But in time, we shall reclaim all of this land for our own, and reap the rewards in this rich rock." He held in his hand a nugget, encrusted with fat gems. A token, found near the edge of this land, and a good omen, we thought, of the riches to be found.
 
−
 
 
−
Four of us, practised miners, found a shallow cave close to the base of the great mountain of obsidian that dominated the area. Shallow, but it's walls would serve to shape the first defences of our entrance. Soon, we had built our protection. An open, grassy courtyard at the front was surrounded with double-high, double-thick walls, in front of which a long moat had been dug. A single bridge, connected to a lever, permitted entrance to this courtyard, but the bridge could only be reached via a corridor of cage and rock-fall traps. Past the courtyard, the remains of the cave converted to a wide corridor, leading into the mountain itself. There, a massive covered hall housed our trade depot, animal stockpile and kennels, and the great doors to the fortress proper. We felt safe, behind these walls, and free to dig deep.
 
−
 
 
−
And dig, we did...
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
Progress in the mine moved quickly. Though the obsidian was hard, the levels below were a patchwork of firm rock, rich metal veins and fat pockets of white and yellow sand, perfect for our farming industry.
 
−
 
 
−
"I forsee this place expanding quickly, once word of our great progress reaches the mountainhomes. Dig deep, and dig fast my brothers. I want four farms, a great food stockpile, a dining hall and enough bedroom for twenty dwarves dug out and cleared before the year is out. Also, let's have a nice, big meeting hall up on the entrance level. Something to impress visitors, yes?" Tekkud's ambitions grew quickly.
 
−
 
 
−
"Oh, don't look at me like that! It may seem like a lot of work now, but you are stout and strong dwarves, and I picked each of you especially for this task! I know you can do it! We've enough food and drink to keep us a year or more, so we can concentrate on really establishing ourselves, here. Lorban, I want you to smooth all of the walls, and where sand is abundant, tear it down and erect walls of pure obsidian. Let's make this place something really special. Dumat, we'll need a plentiful stockpile of wood for all the new beds, but while your out there, do keep your eye out for exotic creatures, hmmm? I swear I saw a leopard outside yesterday, and a tame wild cat would really be something to talk about!"
 
−
 
 
−
Oh, we all felt so buoyed up by such speeches. The work was hard, yes, but Tekkud was right that we had enough food. We had taken no wood, no weapons aside form a single axe and our picks, nothing but four dogs and a massive supply of food and drink. We could have spent a year and a half doing nothing but digging and building, and still retain sufficient supplies that an immigrant wave would cause no problems.
 
−
 
 
−
In any case, work progressed so rapidly, and before even the end of our first year we were joined by more dwarves. With the two children, our numbers now totalled sixteen. More than double our original numbers.
 
−
 
 
−
Before long, we had established all the bedrooms, and the essentials, and work progressed on a lower chamber to act as both an exploratory area for digging our metals and gems, and to form elaborate burial chambers. "Every dwarf that inhabits these halls shall have a burial chamber all to themselves, smoothed and furnished while they live, and engraved and sealed in death. The final, sealing wall shall be crystal glass, that we may gaze upon our lost loved ones, whilst keeping their belongings and bodies safe and secure." So Tekkud had ordained.
 
−
 
 
−
But, things were not going as Tekkud had planned. With the wave of immigrants, he now had a workforce of farmers, more engravers, a brewer and dwarves to work on trade goods, but the mine was looking scruffy. Rock wasn't being cleared as quickly as he wanted, and many areas that should have looked magnificent were instead strewn with debris, and the cage traps that protected our fortress had, instead of wild cats and terrifying beasts, caught groundhogs, horses and two lowly child snatchers. These pitiful caged animals still served to decorate the precious meeting hall, however, and Logem and Stukos would spend their days jeering at the child snatchers in between helping out in the farms.
 
−
 
 
−
The most disappointing and vexing issue for Tekkud, however, was the lack of respect these new immigrants had for him. Unlike the near religious devotion he had inspired in my brothers and I, these newcomers saw him only as an administrator, and took his orders lightly. Many had even taken to wandering about outside, despite his strict instructions against it.
 
−
 
 
−
When the first death occurred, the graves at least were prepared...
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
The disrespect that embodied our new brethren had begun to infect others, and at the same time we had all become heady, almost drunk, with the sense of pride and ability that Tekkud worked so hard to instil.
 
−
 
 
−
Word had gotten out that Tekkud lusted for exotic creatures and, emboldened perhaps having ventured outside without suffering harm, a few of my brothers had taken to wandering into a nearby, very odd cavern, to gather animal corpses. For study, I suppose, and to get a feel for the variety of wildlife in the area.
 
−
 
 
−
It was a truly odd cavern. There was something very unnatural, artificial in it's construction. A dent in the earth; a perfect circle, sloped on all sides and with a sloped entrance in the centre, but the tunnels within were a rambling, meandering mess such that a rabbit might make, albeit strewn here and there with carved stairwells to different levels. I must confess, this mixture of the natural and the crafted, apparently without reason or purpose, and no signs of the civilisation that may have created it, unnerved me greatly.
 
−
 
 
−
In any event, for all that Tekkud forbade entry to, and forbade the items contained within this area, our brothers continued to explore it. Until one day, Dumat was lost. Poor Dumat, it seemed, had wandered down there after a mole rat, only to meet death at the hands of an enraged troll. Out of fear that others would be lost, his corpse and all his belongings were strictly forbidden, and Tekkud ordered a wall be built around the entrance to the tunnels. Sealing poor Dumat forever, to rot in the dirt.
 
−
 
 
−
The plan was only supposed to be temporary, of course. Tekkud had a plan.
 
−
 
 
−
"We will wall up that accursed tunnel to keep the disgusting filth out of our way. Then, once our numbers have grown, we will each train with weapons, and will venture into the depths to wipe out those hideous creatures, aside from those few we choose to keep for our own amusement!"
 
−
 
 
−
It was a noble plan, but a doomed one. The wall progresses slowly, so far was it from our fortress and our stockpiles of stone. Tekkud was loathe to send miners to dig nearer to the tunnel, as he intended to keep the numbers nearby to a minimum.
 
−
 
 
−
In any case, the thought of Dumat, rotting below, was too much to bear for one of our newcomers. A woodcutter by the name of Edum Inulthob, who had recently given birth, and who had remained silent on the identity of the father. In retrospect, it is clear that Dumat was her lover. In either case, she too fell. Edum ventured, baby in her arms, to the caverns to collect poor Dumat's body. Though she fled out of the caverns quickly when discovered, she was chased a ways by a troll, losing her newborn, and shortly thereafter her own life.
 
−
 
 
−
Soon, the beasts from the caverns began to bubble up towards the surface. Batmen, Ratmen, trolls, imps, and more. Two more lost their lives, innocently collecting cave spider webs that grew on the surface near that mighty crack we had seen upon our first arrival.
 
−
 
 
−
This was too much for Tekkud. It was time to take action, and take it fast...
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
Our bowyer had constructed enough crossbows for us each to take a pair, and we had sewn leather quivers and crafted bone bolts aplenty. Every adult member of the fortress was conscripted, every one. Tekkud recognised our nervousness, and so he lead the charge, armed with a sword instead. But we were disorganised, inexperienced and not meant for battle.
 
−
 
 
−
The first few that made it into the chasm took out a few trolls, but soon fell when caught in close quarters combat. Others, a few stragglers that had become lost, wandered in the wrong direction.
 
−
 
 
−
Seeing this, Tekkud came to us, comforted us, and led us back towards the battle. But, in his excitement, he led us down a different valley. There, I saw again that movement I had glimpsed so many months ago. But so much, so very much closer. And oh, so much bigger. Leathery wings, and then a glimmer of a massive, yellow eye. And then, I remember only heat.
 
−
 
 
−
When I awoke, I was back in the fortress. Ibok had rescued me, and brought me back to the safety of the fortress, raising the drawbridge behind him. I was unharmed, but traumatised. So many had been lost, and now we, and the children, were all that remained.
 
−
 
 
−
It matters little, now. We are doomed to die, and I would rather it be over. We realised, after a time, that even the fortress was not safe. We may have a moat and a wall t protect us, but dragons can fly. And what if it carries over some of those other creatures, or is joined by a flock of batmen? No! No, I say! If we are to die then that death shall be of our own choosing! The children may not understand, but this is for the best!
 
−
 
 
−
We have moved our beds, and those of the children, into the tombs. We have walled ourselves in down here, and now await the sweet kiss of death. I have spent these last few nights engraving our history on these walls, and can feel death approach as I grow ever thirstier. The children cry at night, with hunger, and with grief, but they must be strong. Better to die down here amongst our brothers than inflamed by a dragon on the surface. At least here, unlike all of our brothers, the last survivor can entomb our corpses, before climbing into his own coffin to die with dignity.
 
−
 
 
−
Remember us, remember our lesson, and do not try to aim for such great heights so quickly. Go slow, go cautious, and above all keep away from this accursed place!
 
−
 
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
=== Misadventures in Metalbulwark, part one: The Titan Ilre Justrasthru<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
 
 
−
Metalbulwark is the name given to this flourishing dwarven hall, and the dwarves have worked diligently to earn this title; the front gates are made of shining zinc (for lack of stronger stuffs in the depths of their mines), and the very waters themselves have bended to the iron will of those who call this place home.  Three years did they toil, and they sundered the very earth to command the element of water.  Great walls of schist were established, subterranean passes carved from soil and stone, and mighty floodgates were built to contain the torrential water so the dwarves might cloister themselves into this hall of metal.
 
−
 
 
−
No expense was too much for these dwarves to pay, as they dug deep into the mountains.  Two fortresses were established in this place; one was atop the mountainous terrain, and offered ready access to the world above for traders and crafters to ply work.  Though not much to behold, it was built with the intention of using it for only the short term; the dwarves called this place "The Forge of Metalbulwark" to signify its purpose.
 
−
The second fortress was Metalbulwark itself.  It lay nestled in a crevasse, the very valley that was flooded with water by the dwarves to supply the budding city.  Above the waterway, a grand hallway was created, lined with statues of schist and mica, the walls smoothed by the hands of dozens.  The center of this hallway was comprised of bridges ready to shift and raise in the event of invasion so the dwarves could ride out any invasion, yet the dwarves were so occupied with their hubris that they never quite got around to the essential task of machinating the bridges; after all, what is the point of defending a place that is not worth defending?
 
−
 
 
−
Oh, there were traps, meager traps meant to withstand small goblin incursions.  The walls of the tunnel leading to Metalbulward were stained with the blood of many a goblin raider, and the mechanisms to the vicious traps of whirling steel blades and saws (imported from the more mineral rich halls of others), and the ceiling above lined with carefully concealed hatches ready to drop boulders to crush marauding goblins.  But these traps were designed with goblins, kobolds, and other such nuisances in mind.  They were not prepared for the beasts yet to come.
 
−
 
 
−
So as the dwarves dug deeper and the walls and crafts became more lavish, and the bridges mouldered, the meager traps lay in wait, and an evil being turned a despondent eye to gaze upon this place that had the audacity to call itself a bulwark.  The titan Ilre Konlikateng Justrasthru grinned, for the first time in nearly an age; his boredom had an outlet.
 
−
 
 
−
- - -
 
−
 
 
−
Ustuth Ginetkhel was a simple craftswoman; plain to behold, but a solid and strong woman.  She was a widow, her husband having departed from the mortal coil shortly before she bore his son.  She likely would not have survived the year past her partner's death were it not for the babe Ushrir; his entrance to the world gave her something to live for, and to love.  She had come close to losing Ushrir as well seasons ago to goblin snatchers, but the timely intervention of a ranger (and her excellent aim) stopped the goblin dead in his track paces from where the child had been grabbed; the bone bolt protruded from the goblin's chest a mere hands' width from the child itself.  After that incident, the hunter felt discouraged that her shot had come perilously close to ending the babe's life, and personally trained one of the growing hounds of the fortress to be Ustuth's protector.  Her faithful war hound accompanied her everywhere she went since that day, so many years ago.  Ushrir had grown to a child since then, and no longer needed to be carried and attended to religiously by his mother.  Though the time for the hound's necessity had come and gone, Ustuth kept the hound with her when she went to the brook to fish.
 
−
 
 
−
Though she was a craftswoman in her younger years, a prodigy had since taken her place as stonecrafter after he produced the magnificent scepter Sirabudist, a mica rod decorated with bone and leather.  Finding her works shadowed by the young upstart, Ustuth retired to the life of a fisher, and though there was water inside the fortress and a good bridge to fish from just outside the gates, she favored the brook for her activities.  It was a long trek to and from, but she felt safe accompanied by her hound.
 
−
 
 
−
Frost was in the air, and parts of the brook were quickly icing over; the fishing went slowly, as most of the fish were too preoccupied with surviving the coming freeze to notice her enticing bobber.  Ustuth could even see the small formations of ice expanding before her eyes, when she watched them closely enough.  She had begun to reel in her line when her hound, with a deep growl, bolted off up the hill to the west.  Startled by the dog's sudden flight, Ustuth hardly had time to even call for the warhound to return before a dark shape passed quickly above her from atop the hill.
 
−
 
 
−
With alarm, she turned to view the form, which landed with a wet THUD beside her; she screamed and fell on her rear as she quickly backed away from the horrifically mauled corpse of her guardian, which stared at her with eyes rolled back in its head.  Her reactions were sluggish, her heart beating wildly and flooding her hearing.  She was fixated on the site of her valued and beloved pet and protector, blood spreading from its corpse and staining the frost-tinged blades of grass.  The image engrossed her completely; she could not turn away from this morbid site, even as her brain slowly registered the sound of heavy, earth-shaking footsteps approaching from atop the hill.
 
−
 
 
−
It wasn't until the terrible titan bellowed a terrible, mocking laugh, that she could turn from the corpse to see the one who felled her trusted hound in a single blow.  She immediately got to her feet and, screaming cries for help, began to run back to the gates of Metalbulwark as fast as her feet could carry her.
 
−
 
 
−
Ilre watched, bemused, as the pathetic little woman ran across the field.  With a dark chuckle, he began to stride after her, almost casually.  His idle pace would bring him within reach of the woman within seconds, and he so looked forward to toying with the tiny woman, hearing her cries of anguish and pathetic pleas for life before he ended her.
 
−
 
 
−
This particular train of thought ended very abruptly as his left eye began to sting, and his vision turn blurry with blood; it took Ilre a moment to register what had just happened.  Atop the hill he had just departed, a hunter had leveled his crossbow at the mighty titan, and let fly a bolt.  An otherwise perfect headshot that struck just above the left eye did little more than half-blind and enrage the titan, however.  His previous quarry forgotten, Ilre turned and brought his left hand up to pull the offending bolt from his forehead between thumb and forefinger, and with almost no effort, the bone bolt was snapped in twain.  The hunter's face paled, and he stumbled and fought with his quiver to retrieve another arrow to unleash upon the titan.  The bolt finally complied with the frightened, inexperienced ranger, and he succeeded in half-winching the crossbow before the titan ground him into a bloody paste against the freezing ground.
 
−
 
 
−
- - -
 
−
 
 
−
Ustuth's warning gave the guards a little more time to prepare for the attack; rangers had seen the titan's approach just minutes before, and all the guards had been mobilized to 'The Forge,' having expected the titan to strike there, where defenses seemed weakest.  They had not accounted for Ilre's intentions to humble the dwarves by smashing through Ironbulwark, and challenging the title the dwarves put so much pride in.  Dwarves scurried and fled to escape the coming titan, while the few guards still stationed at Ironbulwark readied for the attack, and the ice crept steadily along the water, as though Ilre was its herald.
 
−
 
 
−
Of note here is the outward defenses of Ironbulwark.  Before one can even enter the tunnel leading into Ironbulwark, one must cross the moat; a simple task, as a bridge gaps the water.  A wall was mostly built around the moat as well to help direct traffic and to give the city a more auspicious entry, but had never been finished (note: this is because when I TRIED to finish it, the dwarves kept building the wall with themselves inside of it and trapping themselves inside, so the outer wall was never finished ^_^;).  The dwarves had not accounted for the water freezing, and so the tunnel had been temporarily expanded upon in size to create a catapult emplacement to the side.  This section of tunnel was exposed to the waterside, and ran parallel to the primary tunnels until they merged about halfway down the length.  Without the siege weapon prepared, however, the dwarves sought to capitalize on this position by stationing archers to view the bridge for the titan's approach.
 
−
 
 
−
They did not see Ilre coming.  Crafty, wicked Ilre instead stepped through the incomplete wall and treaded stealthily upon the solid ice, his titanic stature belying his lithe grace as he snuck upon the ill prepared dwarves and, with little effort, snapped their bodies and tossed them callously onto the ice, which cracked and buckled under the weight of their armored forms.  If any of the three had survived the malice of the titan, they would not have survived the freezing water.
 
−
 
 
−
So Ilre walked deeper into the mountain, not even aware of the fact he had circumvented the majority of the traps by going through the archer's perch.  As the titan came ever closer to the city gates, the two remaining militia rounded up as many of the unskilled and able-bodied men and women as they could to establish a line against the titan.  Only one line of traps stood between the titan and them, and they knew the inferior traps (which were simple iron and wooden giant corkscrews that sprang from the walls to wickedly carve into whatever passed them) would do little to even bloody the coming behemoth.
 
−
 
 
−
From the back of the line, a slow, encouraging cheer was raised; pushing through the dozen conscripts strode Iteb Rodermorul, captain of the guard.  Wearing the only full set of steel armor in the fortress and bearing a wicked battleaxe, Iteb took the front of the line, and prepared the men for combat.  Accompanying Iteb was a ranger; the same who had saved baby Ushrir from the goblin many years ago.  She was accompanied by two dogs of her own, and carried a crossbow made from the collected bones of many a slain kobold foolish enough to challenge her.
 
−
 
 
−
Ilre and Iteb were fated to meet once in the coming battle, and his shame at this meeting would lead him to step down from his command (and yes, I AM EXTREMELY dissapointed in Iteb for this; I'm demoting him as soon as I'm finished writing this; read on to find out why).  The fight was short, and brutal; eight of the dwarves and one hound died in the ensuing battle, ended mercifully quickly by the crushing limbs of the giant...all except one. 
 
−
 
 
−
Tekkud Enkosdomas, an on-again-off-again soldier who had a penchant for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, was one of those caught in the hallway and drafted into service.  He had wrestled a kobold thief to death once before, and though he'd found the pleasure of the brawl invigorating and took great pleasure in beating the vermin to death with his bare hands, Tekkud never gained notice by the city guard.  He applied to join the militia, but somewhere along the line his information was overlooked, and he grudgingly returned to his life as a farmhand.  Eager to prove himself, he was always the first to start a friendly brawl with his fellow dwarves at the Microcline Table, and oft he'd provoke the guards into partaking in the events against him.  Needless to say, a return to fighting was a task he'd normally have been overjoyed to be offered.
 
−
 
 
−
But, lo, this would be his final fistfight.  As dwarves and hound fell around him, he threw himself violently against the titan, and delivered lightning-fast and vicious jabs to the titan's abdomen.  Startled by his tenacity, Ilre clutched Tekkud's body with his mighty grip, and sought to pull Tekkud off.  Tekkud perservered through the crushing grip, and with a nearly feral tenacity, he delivered devastating blows to Ilre's liver and stomach, and the titan nearly fell there from nausea.  The titan finally pulled Tekkud free, and with a bellowing roar of anger and pain, threw the farmhand against the far wall, where Tekkud fell broken.  His bones were cracked, his head split from the impact, and he was left with a few agonizing minutes of life to see the failures of the guards he respected so much.  He lived to see the disgrace of Iteb, and to be ashamed for his people.
 
−
 
 
−
Iteb stood in the back of the formation with the ranger, watching the fight with ax ready.  He saw dwarves crushed, and watched with admiration and only passing pity for Tekkud as he was tossed against the wall and left to die.  Seeing the titan wounded and off-balance, Iteb finally stepped forward and into the fray, his axe hacking at the Titan's leg.  The red blood spilled, and splashed against the elegant statues decorating the hall, and he let out a victorious chuckle--which was brought to an abrupt halt as he only barely lifted his shield in time to deflect a blow from the very enraged and very unamused titan.  The blow still sent Iteb reeling back, and with a cry he dropped the shield and checked his arm; it did not seem broken, but was still in pain.  Iteb only looked up from his minor injury in time to take the full force of the titan's fury against his steel breastplate.
 
−
 
 
−
Iteb was knocked to his back, and scampered away from the giant.  The other dwarves continued to pummel and beat the titan with fist and hammer, but none did significant damage to it; noticing this, Iteb's eyes widened with fear, and the decorated steel ax slid from his grip to clatter against the worked stone floor.  Scrambling back a short distance, Iteb jumped to his feet and turned on his heels, quickly fleeing the wrath of the titan and retreating to the safety of the back of the defense to watch alongside the ranger, who unloaded round after round of steel-tipped fury upon the titan.  The titan, realizing his injuries severe, turned and retreated.  He did not, however, flee down the hall he had entered from; instead, he rushed through a door to the side, which led straight out and to the established water flow regulation chambers. 
 
−
 
 
−
The surviving dwarves let out a cheer as the titan fled, and knew the tunnel came to an abrupt end into subterranean water.  Though the tunnel emptied into the outside, the water there was subterranean, and heated from the many furnaces that worked tirelessly below the ground to produce coal and metalworks, and would not freeze.  Before long, the titan realized his folly, and rested a moment to regain his breath before treading out into the disorganized and now leaderless dwarves to finish his work.
 
−
 
 
−
Enter two dwarves now, who knew not the woes, of their kin; Minkot and Led, two dwarven miners who, after nearly five years in the depths toiling relentlessly to produce stone and carried the very waterways of Metalbulwark upon their backs, were practically legends in themselves.  Dwarves and men knew far and wide the exploits of Minkot and Led, and upon seeing the blood-slicked halls of their home, their brows furrowed, and the decorated picks of iron resting upon their shoulders gleamed, ready to spill more blood in defense of the home.  The surviving militia had pulled the lever closing the zinc floodgate, trapping Ilre inside the chasm and fully prepared to leave the titan to either starve to death within or to drown, trapped from the outside and thus, freedom, by the ice he had so cleverly capitalized upon before.
 
−
 
 
−
When Minkot and Led were told the situation, they did look with scorn upon Iteb, who lowered his gaze to the floor with disgrace.  Minkot looked to the steel weapon upon the floor, and rested his pick against the stone wall to retrieve both weapon and shield.  The two dwarves, comrades and brothers forged in mountainous holes and practically the very fathers of this hall, though titles they had not for their deeds, readied themselves before the floodgate, and said, as one:
 
−
"Open it."
 
−
--[[User:Eddie|Eddie]] 07:26, 4 July 2008 (EDT)
 
−
 
 
−
After word:  The titan was finally felled by the dwarves, spearheaded by the legendary diggers.  The body was unceremoniously dumped into a pit, and once the flesh if off the bones, I intend to make a helm from his bones and a totem from his skull.  Of the many dead from the attack, I honestly do feel bad for Tekkud.  He'd actually wrestled one kobold to death, as indicated in the story, but I left out the other two times he'd been called to service to fight goblin ambush parties at the front gate.  As a farmer and plant gatherer, he had many opportunities to be drafted into service for his nation, and he threw himself unarmed and unarmored into each fight with glee and vigor.  Had I made him an active member of my army, he'd likely have had the gear and training to survive that combat.  He was an excellent fighter, and I'm already making arrangements to have him entombed in my finest Microcline coffin, which I find fitting for all the time he spent wrestling next to the Microcline table public gatherings were organized at.  The coffin's well-crafted leather and morganite decorum settles the coffin at 670* value, which almost definitely surpasses the combined worth of any full crypt I've built for my nobles.  A fitting place for that colorful character hidden inside these dull walls.
 
−
 
 
−
Much as I'd dislike taking my legendary dwarves out from the tunnels (especially since I have a dwarf who is going to go stark-raving mad if I don't find him some uncut gems soon!), Metalbulwark is going to be seeing some major improvements to its military forces, and other defenses in general, and those dwarves are my greatest asset.  Rigorous training is going to ensue for my other soldiers, but they'll have to suck it up, now won't they?
 
−
 
 
−
Iteb is going to be replaced, and he will become a regular palace guard.  What REALLY happened with him confuses and disapoints the hell out of me; he took a minor injury to his left arm, and as soon as the titan turned to run away, Iteb immediately went to bed to rest.  Because he sucked his thumb in the back and didn't help the fight until after Tekkud was dead, then ran out of the fight as soon as he took minor injury, many more dwarves died in that hall than needed to.  I may just have to execute Iteb for his incompetence.
 
−
 
 
−
Hey, kill two birds with one stone!  Make recruits build strength on the water pumps leading into Iteb's personal death chamber...*ponders*
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
=== The Dwarf that almost killed my fortress<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
Seven proud Dwarfs embarked on the journey of a lifetime, taking all they needed save for one important thing, barrels. although they had enough for the first year, or thought they did, they were lacking of a place to put there produce, there being no trees in the area, and after the caravan had come and gone (without any barrels, sadly) the first migrants arrived, forcing the Dwarfs to use there hard bought wood for beds. At first it seemed there  would be enough for barrels left over (I bought out the caravan) but the thing i had feared happened. a dwarf was suddenly taken by a fey mood and ran to the carpenters workshop, booting out the dwarf churning out the last of the beds and then proceeded to appropriate every last stack of wood in the fortress save 3. he worked furiously whilst i angrily plotted his demise. I would have too, but before i could flood his room he finished it and came out with... a bed! made from pine, with spikes of wood (making for an uncomfortable sleeping experience) engraved with trees! how original. I hope he dies from severe splinters. It was only because of luck and selling the damn thing that we made enough logs off the humans but by that time several dwarfs had lost there lives to starvation thanks to rotten food. the only reason that dwarf still lives is because he churned out beds and barrels at an amazing rate after that but the dwarfs that lost there lives cannot be forgotten. Although i didn't really like them anyway. stupid buggers.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===The case of the missing seeds<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
It was a truly good fortress, good ol' Mengallas. The fortress had a rough start, the moat was scrapped due to the designers stupidity in the fortress entrance, we were never able to get a forge going due to the lack of an anvil, and we had little to offer to the merchants that arrived the first year. Nevertheless, we churned on. It was just that first year, me and seven good hardy dwarves. I got so caught up in things when the merchants left, I wasn't prepared at all for the wave of immigrants.
 
−
 
 
−
Yeah, I'll admit it, I just started, this was one of my first fortresses so I was still learning the ropes. Well, it wasn't a mistake that some hard work couldn't fix. So I got my hands dirty, and started digging out some new rooms. There were 9 new immigrants in all, more than doubled my fortress. I was so rushed, I just lopped certain immigrants in certain jobs... anyone with any crafting related skill started crafting, anyone with any cooking related skills cooked, etc. And that's when it started...
 
−
 
 
−
You see, I lumped all my farmer related skills together into... farming. Even those that had no farming skill. So my fortress churned on with 16 immigrants... and then I ran out of seeds. I checked my kitchen, I had it set to not cook any seeds or plants... so how did they all disappear? I hit up the wiki to check and see... Oh... non-skilled farmers can kill seeds...
 
−
 
 
−
DAMMIT!!
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
=== "Send him back to Mama, boys."<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
 
 
−
It was towards the end of the month of Sandstone when the thief was discovered. A kobold, despite the inherent filth of his kind, had once again managed to penetrate the outer defenses of Tosidùst, “The Armored Breach.” There was an immediate ballyhoo as Dwarves dropped what they were doing and ran in every direction. Some went to alert the Fortress guard, ‘The Steels of Mortality’ whose deadly wrestlers had dispatched many an invader with sausage-like fingers. But most simply ran.<br>
 
−
The kobold seized his chance. Sprinting through the great gates on all fours, he beat a path across the wide courtyard, aiming for the true exit. For Tosidùst was no sunken burrow of a Dwarfhome, but a mighty fortress sitting majestically on the mountainside. A wide moat, crossed by a finely wrought drawbridge and defended by a fortified barbican, was the true entrance. With spittle flying from his fangs, the kobold dashed towards freedom.
 
−
“The bridge!” Cried the Mayor. “Raise the bridge!” <br>
 
−
The entryway was still choked with excited Dwarves, but they quickly got the message. “The bridge, the bridge!” No fewer than six citizens of the Breach piled onto the heavy lever located just around the corner. <br>
 
−
The thief was halfway across the great bridge, his stubby tail wagging with pleasure at making the Dwarves look like fools. Beneath his paws, the bridge trembled.<br>
 
−
Dwarven engineering, the finest engineering in all existence, worked swiftly. Stone-wrought mechanisms worked with industrial grace, snapping the drawbridge up into a raised position.<br>
 
−
The last any one saw of the kobold was high in the air, sailing up and over the courtyard, over the cliffs, over the southern ridge itself! Scavengers plied the hills for days afterward, but nothing was found. The kobold may have escaped Dwarven Justice. But the law of gravity is an even harsher code, and its sentencing was much, much swifter.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===Thin Ice<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
Seven miners arrived at their site during late winter. As the miners began walking across the frozen lake to start digging out all the cliffsides, the entire lake thawed and all seven drowned.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
=== The World's Greatest Animal Trap<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
 
 
−
Knowing that Rith wanted a metal bar for his artifact, ADT ran to the traders just as they were about to leave.
 
−
"Please! We need a metal bar, only one!" he cried. The traders scratched their heads and one produced an iron bar from one of their wagons.
 
−
"We'd be willing to part with this, if you have a good enough offer..." he softly said. ADT rapidly peeled off his his sock, and offered it to the traders.
 
−
"Yes! Such a beautiful garment! Here, take the bar!" yelled the trader. He grabbed the sock, and gave the bar to ADT, who ran inside, struggling to put his shoe on as he did so.
 
−
 
 
−
Rith stealthily sneaked from his workshop to the bar stockpiles, being extra careful outside the bedrooms. It was night, so he didn't want to wake any of them.
 
−
He opened the door of the stockpile, and peeked in, instantly seeing his prize, the iron bar ADT had bought from the traders. He grabbed it, and started to kiss it, thanking his deity for it. In his happiness, he ran back down to his workshop, not caring how loud he was. He started to engrave the bar, laughing maniacally as he did. But no-one heard, the workshops were just far enough from the bedrooms for them not to.
 
−
 
 
−
"What do you mean the iron bar is missing?!" thundered ADT, wiping his mouth with a hankerchief, having just finished breakfast with his lover Taira.
 
−
"When you told me to make the wood furnace, I went to get it, and it was not there." said the Architect nervously, wringing his hands in fear, knowing of ADT's short temper.
 
−
"Rith, must have been." said ADT, standing up from his chair. He kissed Taira goodbye, and went to the workshop, where Rith was standing smugly.
 
−
"Iron bar, WHERE IS IT?!" yelled ADT.
 
−
"Used it." said Rith simply
 
−
"ON WHAT?!"
 
−
"I'll show you."
 
−
Rith lead ADT to the animal stockpile, where he was greeted by the sight of a willow animal cage, with an engraving of two cats on a piece of metal.
 
−
ADT pointed at the engraving.
 
−
"IS THAT WHAT YOU USED OUR IRON FOR?!" he bellowed.
 
−
"Yep"
 
−
"That thing better be darn expensive."
 
−
"15,000☼."
 
−
ADT's jaw dropped open.
 
−
"Rith, you rock" said he.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===The Ghost Cave<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
''Taken from the diary of Kogsak Olinostar, dwarven trader''
 
−
 
 
−
There is a place we visit every fall, as the trees begin to drop their leaves. It isn't a fortress, hasn't been for some time...it's more of a cave. It's built into the side of a mountain, right next to a stream. It's the most beautiful place, almost no sign that dwarfish hands had touched the land. No roads, no tree stumps, no dead animals. Then there is the cave itself. It's a small place, just barely big enough for the old trading post that rests within it. The floor is smoothed, and engraved with strange, unsettling images. They seem to move when you watch them, and it makes me uncomfortable to stare at the wall for too long. Walls shouldn't be able to stare back.
 
−
 
 
−
This year, as we walked into the cave, Urdim popped out, happy as always. That poor woman is the last inhabitant of the fortress of Astninur, and this cave all that she has. The trading post is the second floor of a two story cave that she calls home...I've only had cause to go below once, when I helped her carry down a barrel of Plump Helmets...I daresay I shall never want to go down there again. Her bed is placed near the door, and then, right behind that lies six coffins, carefully made and sealed shut. Below that is a flooded staircase...it had been one mistake that flooded the whole fortress, she'd explained. It's a terrible story...and yet she seems unaccountably cheerful.
 
−
 
 
−
But we do not visit this place every year just to check in on the poor young woman, for she produces incredible pieces of work, ruby encrusted mechanism and masterfully sculpted crowns, made from the very stone of the mountain, yet more beautiful than any metal crown. It is an incredible that she produces it all in her little cave...and so very sad that this work is all that she has to remember her comrades, one her husband, by. Every night, she locks the door to the lower chambers, and we hear the last mark of her madness...voices. A myriad of voices rises from the unnatural floors, filling our sleeping ears with their laughter, and the beating of hammers, and the chink of picks hitting stone. But come day break, it all fades away, and Urdim pops out, smiling, her madness sustaining her for one more day.
 
−
 
 
−
When we leave, she sees us off, then vanishes into her cave, closing the door behind her. We've caught many goblins stalking the area, and none of them know of the fortress in the area. None of them even knew that dwarves traveled through here...and our swords ensure that no one will know.
 
−
 
 
−
She is indeed a strange one, her madness singularly healing...and yet, sometimes I wonder...for sometimes, the voices sound so real, so convincing...I almost want to share her delusion...that her world is just fine. But I always leave the poor girl behind, to live with her ghosts.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===Washing the Dead<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
In a randomly generated world, on top of a high mountain, a dwarf named Meng Tosidmogshum took the last steps up on to the plateau. This was where the entrance to the fortress was to be found...
 
−
 
 
−
He had left the fortress where he was born a few weeks ago and had been travelling since, together with his good friend Edëm Dakostlål.
 
−
Meng was somewhat skilled with the spear, Edëm with the sword and since their fortress already had enough soldiers they decided to travel here, to Seizureworked. The first dwarves to settle here had arrived many years ago, since then not many had followed. They had heard that they were in need of more soldiers, to ward off the vicious goblins that roamed the mountains.
 
−
 
 
−
They had expected a solid gate on the side of the mountain, instead all they could see was a single house on the middle of the plateau, surrounded by a small moat. Confused, they started walking against the house.
 
−
 
 
−
Once they were a little bit closer to the house they could see dwarves running in and out of the house, and outside of the moat laid rotten corpses and skeletons of goblins, kobolds and one or two trolls. Getting even closer they could feel a stench, worse than any sewer, any dead were left to rot out in the fields. Meng felt that he might be seeing that breakfast once again and held his hand over his nose.
 
−
 
 
−
The dwarves on the small moat-surrounded island began to notice the two dwarves, but didn't spend more than a few seconds to look at the newcomers, they proceeded to do their jobs. Meng soon realised where the awful stench was coming from, as he was walking on the bridge onto the island he looked into the moat, an action he regretted...
 
−
This moat was not filled with water, nor was it filled with magma, it was filled with the dead, dwarves and goblins alike, not only did Meng regret looking into the moat, he was starting to regret travelling here in the first place.
 
−
 
 
−
Once they had walked over the bridge and stood on the small island, looking at the house, they could now see the entrance to the fortress. In the ground was a hole, covered by a hatch, going down there you'd find a long stairway down to the fortress, it was wide open and dwarves were running in and out frequently, followed by their pets and livestock.
 
−
 
 
−
One of the dwarves, some sort of craftsdwarf, greeted them and pointed towards the stairs, telling them that they'd receive a proper welcoming down there. And that was what they did.
 
−
 
 
−
They now stood in the meeting halls of Seizureworked, and before them stood an unusually short dwarf, with an unusually long beard.
 
−
His short height didn't seem to bother him, though, he grinned and went forward to hug the two dwarves. Another dwarf appeared, handing the newcomers mugs of ale, Meng felt a bit better but he hadn't forgot about the rotting corpses of the world above.
 
−
 
 
−
The dwarf told them to follow him to their new homes, and so they started walking down a wide and busy corridor. They took a turn at the near the end of the corridor, and now stood before a massive oaken door, their guide knocked on the door which was opened almost immediately. On the other side of the door was a large room with a high ceiling, they stood on a platform above the actual floor, next to them stood a few soldiers in muddy gear.
 
−
 
 
−
One of the soldiers, wielding a copper spear, whispered something to the others, looking at Meng's weapon, a finely crafted steel spear.
 
−
Meng's grip on the spear hardened. The dwarf that had opened the door closed it once again, leaving the guide outside.
 
−
The door-opening dwarf led them down a ramp onto the muddy floor, which at a closer look was littered with worn clothes and little trinkets. There was another door, even more solid than the last, and made of stone. The dwarf told them that the rooms were behind that door as he started walking up the ramp again.
 
−
 
 
−
Meng turned around, more suspicious now, the soldiers had left the room, and the dwarf was running towards the open door, this wasn't right he thought. He started running towards the door, but he was too late, the door-opener (and now also a door closer) ran out and closed the door. Meng was trapped, together with Edëm who was surprisingly uninterested in anything at all.
 
−
 
 
−
''TICK TICK TOCK...''
 
−
 
 
−
Something happened in the walls around Meng, mechanisms were in the moving.
 
−
 
 
−
''TOCK... TOCK... CLONG''
 
−
 
 
−
The door behind him started sliding into the wall. What would appear from behind that door, a great two-headed dog? Or perhaps an ogre?
 
−
 
 
−
At the same time outside the room, the soldiers were listening to what was happening inside, their ears pressed against the door.
 
−
 
 
−
''TAP TAP TAP TAP...''
 
−
 
 
−
Up the ramp...
 
−
 
 
−
''BONK BONK BONK''
 
−
 
 
−
On the door...
 
−
 
 
−
''BLARR... BLUURGH... BLUB BLUB...''
 
−
 
 
−
From a washed dwarf.
 
−
 
 
−
A few minutes later the door-opening,door-closing lever puller pulled a lever, and soon the water had drained. The wooden door was opened for the soldiers to retrieve their new gear.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===A Tragic Tale of Love, Life, and Loss.<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
Well, not actually. But it is a tragic tale of loss.
 
−
Names and a bunch of minor details made up for dramatic effect. I lost this fortress in a computer crash so I can't look up what they actually were anymore. Which is too bad, it was the first fortress I was doing right.
 
−
 
 
−
 
 
−
 
 
−
Asmel sat at his favorite table, sipping at a bit of his favorite dwarven wine. The dining hall was empty that day, so once he was finally able to enjoy a bit of silence.  He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. This was a good day. Not that his life was terribly difficult. Most of the time he just sat around in the dining hall with all the other slackers, drinking. Asmel smiled. He was one of the luckier ones. When he had immigrated in not too long ago, there were already massive unemployment problems throughout the Violencewalls colony. Almost as soon as he had sat down in the nicely furnished dining hall, management was already plunking tons of unskilled labors into the army left and right, with the rest getting forced into building a worthless castle outside the fort. Asmel had lucked out. With a vaguely useful skill like brewing, he had managed to be overlooked by the higher-ups during the great job surge. But when all was said and done, there were still a bunch of dwarves who had nothing to do all day except haul the occasional doodad and drink. Asmel chuckled. Whatever faceless entities were running this fort sure were incompetent. Suddenly, a worried looking dwarf busted into the dining hall, interrupting Asmel mid-drink. Asmel looked up. It was Tulon, fellow idler whose main job was drinking ale, and who did a bit of furnace operating on the side.
 
−
 
 
−
“Hey, did you hear the news?” The usually jovial Tulon inquired. Asmel set his drink down as a concerned expression spread across his face.
 
−
 
 
−
“No, what’s up? Someone box himself in on the castle project again?”
 
−
 
 
−
“No, man.  Something serious. You know Likot? The hunter?”  Likot was usually one of the busier dwarves, so Asmel wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with him. He recognized the name, however.
 
−
 
 
−
“Yeah. What happened?”
 
−
 
 
−
“Well, apparently he got himself killed.”
 
−
 
 
−
“What? Seriously? How?”
 
−
 
 
−
“That’s the thing. No one knows. He was returning from a successful hunt, when suddenly, bam! He died. We don’t know what happened, but it sure as hell ain’t natural.”
 
−
 
 
−
“...Huh.”
 
−
 
 
−
“Yeah. Well, anyways, the fellows up top want us to clean up. They think it’s safe now, and they’re ecstatic that they can keep us busy for a couple seconds. A bunch of the other haulers are ready to go. We’re waiting on you.”
 
−
 
 
−
“Alright.” Asmel rose from his seat, stretching the kinks out of his system. Well, up until now it had been a good day. Contrary to it’s name, it was rare that anything bad happened around Fort Violencewalls. Even the most recent goblin invasions had turned out to be nothing more than an additional income source. Asmel followed Tulon up the stairs to the entrance of the fortress, where a bunch of the other usually jolly drinkers had assembled, somber expressions dominating their faces.
 
−
 
 
−
“I found him, let’s go.” Said Tulon. The grave procession began their march through the lush forest, stepping over brambles and ducking under branches, keeping a careful watch on the dense woods around them.
 
−
 
 
−
“So, where is the guy?” Asmel asked the nearest dwarf. It happened to be Fath, a calm and unmotivated wood burner who favored Dwarven Rum.
 
−
 
 
−
“Down south near the river, I think. What do you think happened to him? Goblins or something?”
 
−
 
 
−
“Naw, can’t be. The whole fort would be up in arms if it were. Thank God. If there’s one thing I hate it’s lugging some gobbo’s bloodsoaked boots halfway across the world because he didn’t have the decency to die at the castle gates.”
 
−
 
 
−
“Then what? I mean that guy was pretty tough, right? I mean, he ''killed'' animals for a living.”
 
−
 
 
−
“Hey, I don’t know. Maybe some cougar got the drop on him or something. Man, I hope it went quick. He was a good guy.”
 
−
 
 
−
“…Yeah.” At that moment, a voice rang through the trees ahead.
 
−
 
 
−
“Hey, I think I found him!” Asmel and Fath picked up the pace a bit, stepping out into a small clearing.
 
−
 
 
−
“By Armok….” Asmel muttered to himself under his breath, taking in the grisly scene before him. Likot was lying in a crumpled heap of limbs face down on the banks of the river, mouth ajar with an expression of surprise on his face. Nearby sat the body of his most recent kill, an unlucky deer with several bolts stuck in it’s neck and body. The blood of the deer painted the nearby shrubbery red, while Likot’s own blood tainted the nearby river. Next to Likot were Tulon and Datan, an aspiring Judge of Intent who did a little farming on the side. Tulon had picked up Likot’s favorite iron crossbow and was examining it carefully for damage, while Datan crouched over the body, examining the wounds.
 
−
 
 
−
“Gentlemen, dinner is served.” Datan joked, grimly. He turned the body over.
 
−
 
 
−
“You’d better work on your comedian skills, buddy.” Fath replied. “At least he’s in one piece.” He added. “Well, shall we get started?”
 
−
 
 
−
“Yeah, lets get this over with.” Asmel walked apprehensively over to the macabre figure. “I’ll take the cap.” Datan leaned in close, studying the appalling gashes closely.
 
−
 
 
−
“Hey, you know, I think these are bi-“ He never finished the sentence. At that very moment, there was a splash of water, a spray of blood, and cry of pain. A slimy figure had leaped out of the water and latched onto Datan’s neck. There was a sickening crack as Datan’s neck gave way to the Sturgeon’s fearsome jaws. Asmel stumbled back, landing on his back and dropping the leather cap.
 
−
“Son of a-!” He exclaimed. The sturgeon had flopped back into the water. Tulon leaped backwards, only to trip over an unfortunately placed root.
 
−
 
 
−
“What the hell was thaAAAAH!” Asmel’s eyes darted to Tulon, just in time to see another sturgeon latch onto to Tulon’s leg. The sturgeon then started to drag Tulon into the murky depths below.  “OH GOD OH GOD HELP ME H-” Tulon’s cries turned to garbled splashes as his head slipped below the waters, his hands desperately grabbing at loose dirt. Asmel wildly felt the ground around him, looking for a weapon, or a handhold to pull himself away, or anything really. His hand felt the cold iron of the crossbow Tulon had dropped.
 
−
 
 
−
“Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit….” His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He pulled the crossbow in closer, right when another sturgeon burst out of the water. Asmel realized he didn’t know how to work a crossbow, and tried to scramble away. He turned around to see Fath, scared stiff, watching the whole massacre in absolute fear. “Get the hell out of here, Fath! Get help fro-“ A sudden pain lanced through Asmel’s leg. Asmel’s gaze flicked around, only to see the sturgeon clinging to his left leg. This is it…he thought to himself.  The last thing he saw was another sturgeon lurching out of the water, flying towards his head….
 
−
 
 
−