ASCII art reward

If you send a donation to Bay12Games, you can choose between two rewards : a Crayon Art Reward or an ASCII Art Reward. It is a small scene made of a few ASCII characters, along with a unique story written by ThreeToe and happening in the Dwarf Fortress world. Each scene has a chance to appear later in some form in one of ThreeToe's Stories. If the same donator gives more than one time, it is also possible that the bits of ASCII Art follow each other and form a story.

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

Beefx

(25 June 2007)

"++@k@++"

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

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

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

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

"Was that the wind then?" Zolon asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bombcar

(30 December 2007)

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

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

(13 April 2009)

c+||@++c+cc+@@||,.,,.U,ggCgggT

The dwarf Frankle ran through the corridors, chasing after the many cats that infested the fortress. He stopped when the alarm was sounded. The captain of the guard shouted orders. The dwarves rushed to their stations. Frankle, a reserve marks-dwarf, grabbed up a crossbow from the arsenal and trotted up the stairs to man the battlements. When he reached the top he saw the other marks-dwarves standing, shocked by what they saw. Taking a deep breath, he looked over the side.

At the fortress gate stood an enormous monster, dragging itself upon its vicious, clawed arms. Goblins stood around it, jeering, and hurling curses. A feeling of terror gripped Frankle’s chest. In all his years in the service he had never fired his bow in anger, but no bolt could take this beast down. The captain put a hand on Frankle’s shoulder. Below, a robed man stepped out before the creature. A fresh scar transected his missing left eye. It was the evil wizard Ameltoss.

“Lay down your weapons and accept a swift death,” shouted the wizard. A bolt thudded down between his feet. “Somehow I thought you’d refuse. Release the beast!”

A troll stepped forward wielding a huge axe. With several violent chops, the chain binding the monster's wrist was broken. The creature surged forward. Frankle screamed in fright and fired his crossbow. His bolt, along with a dozen others, bounced harmlessly from the creatures hide. As the monster beat down the gate. It seemed their was no hope. That was when champion dwarf Rokwan emerged from the keep within the castle.

Bott Maggot

(03 August 2007)

+&=o=@+

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brownie210

(22 December 2008)

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

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

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

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

Caeonosphere

(07 January 2008)

,.U-.,.GT.

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

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

ChazFox

(25 October 2009)

,.E@UU,.,

Mighty knight Dron looked on his companions with a measuring stare. To his right was Glome, a marksdwarf most renowned, cleaning his weapon, a blindfold across his eyes. Across from him stood the elven warrior princess and summoner of animals, Tigotha. At his left was Alvin, his squire. These chosen few were destined to quest across the land in search of the evil wizard Zandore.

"The vile villain is not far off now," said Dron. "I can smell his evil magic."

"It could be another one of his tricks," said Tigotha. "It wouldn't be the first time you were fooled."

"Put me anywhere up to league away from evil wizard Zandore," said marksdwarf Glome, "and the war will be over." The dwarf pulled the trigger and his crossbow snapped with sudden force.

"Master," cried Alvin, "I see something!"

Davion

(28 July 2008)

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

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

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

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

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

(28 September 2008)

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

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

"Agron!" screamed Faltrix. "Agron!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Quest?" asked Faltrix.

Dutchling

(3 March 2011)

||@@@@+@+++<||@||####/##/###/#####

Lightning bolts rained down from the sky as the storm god Domin released his fury upon the world. Hardest it fell on the dwarf fortress, but no meteor, no matter how powerful, could keep the little ones down. King Ibruk stood upon the wall of the dwarven castle, drunk, daring the sky god to strike him down. The other dwarves cowered behind the battlements, none brave enough to pull the king down.

“Lord Ibruk,” shouted a voice from lower in the courtyard, “throw not your life away.”

Ergot

(14 June 2007)

""w"w@%"w"w

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

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

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

Furiousfish

(14 July 2007)

++@g####

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

(27 February 2008)

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

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

Fuzzy

(31 October 2008)

.,G,@,,.

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

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

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

Brownie210

(22 December 2008)

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

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

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

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

Hellzon

(17 December 2007)

,.@@~~o~~~

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

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

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

(3 September 2008)

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

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

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

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

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

Janus

(12 October 2006)

BgB
B@g
gBB

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

(13 February 2007)

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

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

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

(5 May 2007)

|+@g+++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(7 August 2007)

@+++"E"

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

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

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

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

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

John Tait

(4 November 2007)

+@++\M+

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

Jevon

(13 June 2011)

,.gg,.\@,.ggg

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

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

Jibz

(25 December 2011)

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

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

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

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

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

“You saw it,” said Aliz.

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

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

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

Joystick Hero

(14 September 2010)

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

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

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

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

Kosmos

(11 September 2007)

T+TT@C +

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

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

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

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

Laod

(15 October 2006)

T..o..T

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

--Laod 15 October 2006

MacGyvers_Mullet

Rognar:(11 November 2007)

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

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

-Tarn

Neandar Begin:(3 July 2008)

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

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

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

-Zach

McDoomhammer

(5 May 2008)

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

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

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

FFLaguna

(5 May 2008)

===UHH,...===UHH,........[===].//+//````

Merchant Prince Gramlin snorted while batting away acorn flies with his monkey hair swatter. 'Realm of Artifice,' ha! 'Dirt Fortress,' he named it. These pathetic dwarves scratched a hole in the earth and produced nothing but rock toys to offer the human caravans. The journey was long and the profits few. At last the trees cleared revealing a low hill with a single door, the trade platform lying before it. Gramlin looked around him. Not a dwarf was to be seen. They were probably sleeping off a night of unrestrained debauchery. He ordered his men to lay the goods onto the platform.

A sudden pain rocked the merchant. He looked down at his great gut and saw a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest. As he sank to the earth, he cursed. The dwarves had gone feral, maddened by their pathetic conditions. The caravan was routed and fled into the woods, leaving their precious cargo on the platform. The last thing Gramlin saw was the face of a mad dwarf, foaming at the mouth and snarling before it took his scalp.

McMe

(13 January 2010)

UU+U++G.,,...

A knock came at the mead hall gate. A powerful blow, nearly tearing the doors from their hinges. King Wrathbeard drew his sword and strode to the entrance, flanked by his elite warriors. He nodded to his men and they unbarred the door. The doors swung open, revealing the enormous, heavily-muscled body of Grum, half-giant, lord of the hills.

"Where are my chickens?" growled Grum. "You are to offer me four fried chickens on every Tuesday! Friday it is!"

Wrathbeard stroked his whiskers. "What have you done for me lately, Grum?" asked the king. "Goblins still haunt the highways. Jackal men still harass my herds."

Grum left the hall in confusion, sure he had been tricked. Back on his hill, Grum watched as a carriage was stopped by goblin bandits and the nobles stripped of their valuables. Feeling his stomach rumbling, Grum stood and ran toward the highway.

"Where is the rest of the gold!" yelled the goblin.

The nobles coward, fearing for their lives. The goblin raised his whip, better to lash them again. A huge hand caught him by the wrist. Grum tossed the goblin into the air. The nobles screamed. The half-giant scowled.

"I will have my chickens," he said, "whether you live or die."

Md5i

(12 May 2007)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(07 Jun 2007)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(15 Jul 2007)

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

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

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

"Yes, surely something unusual is afoot."

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

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

Midelne

Fish Dwarf Begin: (6 August 2007)

~~@~~X

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

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

(8 November 2007)

~~~@%X

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

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

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

(10 December 2007)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(18 January 2008)

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

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

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

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

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

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

(15 May 2008)

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

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

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

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

Fish Dwarf End: (1 July 2008)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hunger Begin (11 June 2008)

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

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

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

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

"Silence, Rodger," said the king.

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

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

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

(17 June 2008)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(3 July 2008)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

onodera

(01 November 2008)

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

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

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

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

"Not much meat here," it said.

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

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

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

Peristarkawan

(16 May 2007)

=@()++@

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Qwip

(05 December 2006)

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

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

(09 February 2007)

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

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

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

— Qwip 08:40, 9 February 2007 (EST)

(18 April 2007)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Qwip 12:28, 14 May 2007 (EDT)

Rewolf31

(13 April 2007)

.B@.~~~

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

(21 July 2007)

,.,B@~,~,~

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

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

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

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

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

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

(12 September 2007)

++@a@+

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you win, daddy?" Coren asked.

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

"What else, daddy? What else?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(18 September 2007)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Senso

(29 April 2007)

<+@?++&~~

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

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

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

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

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

Shanty

(30 June 2007)

@@+U@

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

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

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

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

Spelguru

(19 November 2006)

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

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

(19 December 2006)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(25 March 2007)

The adamantine man story ended.

@-***=.T

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

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

SupSuper

(19 April 2007)

+R@%+@+%

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Syndlig

(18 May 2007)

oU++@@

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Termitehead

(4 November 2007)

%,.@.""k

The mighty warrior felt the power run through his arms as he held up his fallen enemy's sword. He laughed as the body beneath him oozed the last of its life into the dirt. It hadn't even been much of a challenge. It was as if the worthless cur just gave up his life for nothing. Now all he had to do was return the villain's sword to the king and claim the reward.

On his way back to the castle the warrior swung the sword around his head, singing cheerfully as he skipped along. A small quick hand darted from the branches above and snatched the sword from his grasp. The warrior yelled and searched the trees above for a glimpse of the thief. A pair of yellow eyes stared back at him. A kobold!

The Toad Preservation Society

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

(11 October 2006)

.M.@$.

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

--The Toad Preservation Society, 11 October 2006

(12 November 2006)

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

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

--The Toad Preservation Society, 12 November 2006

(5 December 2006)

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

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++#
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   ##################

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

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

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

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

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

--The Toad Preservation Society, 10 April 2007

(June 2007)

   ##################
   #+d+++++++%++++++++..
####d@dO++O++O%%O+%&#
++++d@d+++%%++++%%%%#
####d@dO+%O%+O+%O%%@#
   #+d+d+%++%%%+++%@#
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The soldiers had been quickly subdued, lashed to the floor by a writhing mass of metallic lizard bodies. Regukar walked slowly to the place where Aloran was restrained.

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

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

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

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

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

--The Toad Preservation Society, June 2007

TomTheHand

(20 February 2007)

..g#o@.%

Shrolnak glared through the rusty iron bars.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(12 March 2007)

.T.g..@..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trukkle

(25 June 2007)

%%@##B#

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

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

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

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

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

Urist McCheeseMaker

(12 April 2011)

###@####@..@.,

The scream faded down into the darkened ravine. Woge laughed and lightning struck nearby. How could he do it?, Shato thought. How could he just throw her down to her doom? Drunk, Woge staggered away from the precipice. Seeming to see Shato for the first time, he said, “Do you know what I just did? I killed your woman.”

A flash lit up the hill, much as the lightning had done all night. But this was different. The night found Shato standing over Woge’s dead body. The murderer thought he would have two victims that night, as he was cruel and quick with a blade. He didn’t know that Shato was a wizard. Shato felt the weariness that came with the use of his power. This was magnified by his loss.

“Where is Omli?” asked the sheriff. “Where is your pretty wife? She has been gone for some time.”

Shato looked at the pale, dumpy man with disgust. Most people in the village assumed that Omli had run off with Woge. Only lately had people come to suspect foul play. No one had heard from them. It was as if they had disappeared completely. The sheriff stared up from under his hat at Shato.

“Kobolds, perhaps?” suggested Shato.

“Ah, no,” said the sheriff. “You see, kobolds rarely hide the bodies of their victims. You can always tell the kobold victims by the sores left by the poisons they use. No, I don’t think kobolds.”

“Bandits then?” asked Shato.

“But what was there to rob?” asked the sheriff. “No belongings were missing from their dwellings. None of the local fences have reported seeing any of their things. No, Shato my friend, I believe they were murdered.”

“Murdered?” asked Shato. “But, Why?”

“Because they were lovers,” said the sheriff, “and you know it!”

-

The wagon ride to the fortress was bumpy and freezing. Shato was shackled next to half a dozen thieves and murderers. Half way up the mountain, the guards were replaced by dwarven soldiers. Capital murder was a crime under the jurisdiction of the dwarven overlords of Gulbarkia. One of the prisoners kicked Shato in the leg.

“You’re that weirdo that killed his wife,” he said. “You’ll go to the Hammerer for that!”

“What you say is half true,” said Shato. “Things will be set right.”

Xarph

(20 February 2007)

###=@=##

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

(19 May 2007)

*###*****##**
#*#*##*##**##
##*#*****#*##
#*#*##*##*#*#
#*#*##S##*#*#
#*#*#*#*#*#*#
#*##*###*@#*#
##**#***##*##
#*#*******#*#
*###########*

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

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

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

(20 September 2007)

*###*****##**
#*#*##*##**##
##*#*****#*##
#*#*##*##*#*#
#*#*#####*#*#
#*#*#*#*S*#*#
#*##*###*@!!!
##**#***##*##
#*#*******#*#
*###########*

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

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

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

(13 November 2007)

+g++%@%%+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're our first visitor in years!"

"Visitor?" Kogan asked.

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

(27 February 2008)

+g+@+%%%%+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The Boss?" Kogan asked.

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

(1 July 2008)

##################
###.........%....#
###....%.......%.#
###..............#
gg@+++g+=g%g=%/=|#

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End

Darkie

(14 September 2008)

,.,.O@T,...

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

Draigh

(13 Augustus 2008)

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

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

Minion21g

(28 December 2008)

&||,g.g,gg....,.UU

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

No Not The Bees

(29 December 2008)

.M%,..U.,

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

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

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

Scrollhaven

(28 December 2008)

""@,.UE,."

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

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

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

ToonyMan

(16 January 2009)

DDDDDDM,..@EU@@EU@UE,.

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

(14 January 2010)

DDDDM,.,.s/\@.,.E@E@E@E

The combatants turned to face the dragons as they landed. Madnar dismounted his towering red monster, followed by a short stranger, his eyes dark and shining. Randar stroked his beard as he observed the young warrior. He carried a sword of strange design. Giltra would not wait. She notched an arrow and fired before anyone could blink. The young swordsman knocked it out of the sky before it could reach Madnar’s chest.

“Fools,” chuckled the villain, “allow me to introduce Lord Strider. His powers are unmatched in this world. Now you see there can be no hope.”

Randar set his heels and charged, sword raised. Lord Strider struck a martial pose and set out to meet his dwarven adversary. As they met, the sound of steel ripping steel echoed across the battlefield. As the dust cleared, the dwarf found himself gloating in victory. Strider lay broken and sullied, his weapon shorn in two. Madnar was horrified. Had his reign of evil come to an end?

(18 February 2011)

.,.M\@,.sssssEssss

The boy’s body churned and twisted, though cut in two. The dwarves watched, horrified as the two halves stood, bloody gore bubbling over their severed ends. Madnar cackled with glee. Sensing the danger, Giltra shouted, “Randar, quickly, or there will be two of them.” The evil king watched, amused, as the heroes rushed to do battle with the demon.

With passion, the dwarf and elf did damage to the multiplying demon. No matter how hard they fought, the army of demons kept growing, chop after bloody chop. That was when Randar saw Madnar giggling in his dragon-saddle. Without warning, the dwarf moved.

With one swing of his axe, the dwarf hero struck off the head of the dragon. He pushed off of the dragon’s neck with his boot, and in a second was in the saddle with the cowering Madnar. The dwarf pulled a knife from his boot and put it to the evil king’s throat. The army of bloody demons turned away from the elf and looked to their new master.

“Release the elf,” commanded Randar.

“I,” stuttered the king, “I lack the power.”

The dwarf saw the villain fiddling with a talisman around his neck. Randar took it from him, a blue jewel, the color as deep as the sea. With one mighty kick, Randar sent the king tumbling onto the battle field. Seeing what was to come, the elf backed away. Randar held the jewel high.

“Demon from the Underworld,” cried the dwarf, “devour that trembling sack of filth!”

AbuDhabi

(5 February 2009)

CCCCCCC,.,.,.|||@+@+>

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

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

(24 February 2009)

DgDgg%@@%@~~++++++>>>>^+^+^+^+^%%%%%@

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

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

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

(13 May 2009)

%@/%+++@+@@@

“That blasted wizard Maxelman,” came a booming voice. "He shall not have my artifact staff!”

Curses, thought Twan from his hiding in the cellar, the king! The dwarf lord paced back and forth, followed by a pleading train of aristocrats, tears of rage streaming from his eyes. The staff, the cause of all the suffering the dwarves now endured, was only ten short steps away. In near berserker rage, the king threw the staff down, startling the nobles. Twan saw his chance. He shot between the nobles and snatched up the artifact.

“Scoundrel,” roared the king, “unhand the magic staff!”

Twan leapt onto a keg, holding the staff high.

“Maxelman will burn this fortress to the ground to gain this staff,” said the rude dwarf. “I will have this power for myself!”

The king growled, plucking the gold rings from his fingers. He hurled them at Twan, one striking the dwarf in the teeth. “Seize him!” shouted the besieged ruler. Twan jumped from barrel to barrel as the purple clad nobles chased him. As he ran from the cellar he heard king’s cry, “Guards, guards!”

In the enemy camp, the vile wizard Maxelman puzzled over his battle plans. A dwarf fortress is always a hard nut to crack. One of his generals, a skeletal shade from the netherworld, summoned him from his tent. The wizard straightened his aching back, brushed his long black beard, and stepped to the door. There, standing between two fierce goblin guards, was Twan, holding the king’s staff.

(29 Aug 2009)

+U+G-@+GG+

“You bring me the staff,” said the evil sorcerer, “as a traitor to your people?”

The dwarven rogue took a step back and leveled the staff at his arch-nemesis.

“You will have the staff,” said Twan. “Have it through your black shriveled heart!”

The dwarf pressed a secret button and a blade emerged from the end of the staff. The wizard called on his generals. The skeletal ghoul drew his saber and charged. Twan spun with expert skill and took out the phantom’s knees, such was the power that the staff bestowed. Two more undead warlords entered the tent. Twan thrust the staff at Maxelman but a undead general threw himself in front of the blade, impaling himself and collapsed into dust.

The legless fiend below snatched Twan’s ankles and pulled Twan to the floor. The staff spilled onto the ground. The dwarf felt his courage suddenly fading. The wizard snatched up the artifact and cried out with joy. The long campaign was finally at an end. The skeleton put its bony arm around Twan’s neck and pulled him upright. The wizard noticed the dwarf and walked toward him, pointing the staff.

“Nice try, dwarf,” said Maxelman. “Now feel the true power of the artifact staff!”

Twan caught the thrust between his palms. As the wizard snarled, Twan took the staff in one hand and with several quick motions, activated the secret switches along its length. The dwarf released the staff as saw blades swept out of the shaft and sliced off the wizard’s hands. Twan jammed his helmet into the skull of the phantom general and smashed all the bones in its face.

The dwarf picked up the blood covered staff and chased the wizard from the tent. Dozens of goblins blocked his way, but he dispatched them with mighty slashes of his weapon. Just as he came within a spear’s throw of his enemy, a huge dust cloud blocked his way. Wind blew down as a giant dragon landed before the dwarf. At last, thought Twan, a worthy opponent.

DaWarMage

(8 February 2009)

@@@@||~3--~~U~gUGUUG~~~

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

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

Jim

(29 December 2008)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NobbZ

(16 February 2009)

@@$@,.~~@,..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

crash2455

(22 June 2009)

"@++@>>>+++@gggggggggggg"

Torin felt the prick of blade in his spine. It was his curse to guard the gate to the lower reaches. He had been chosen because of his great size. The dwarf’s expansive belly was enough to block the portal by itself. You were wrong, thought Torin. Someone braver must protect us, not a fat waste of flesh like me. Sharp claws reached out from the gate and pulled the heavy dwarf back inside. With a whimper, Torin disappeared into the darkness.

“Where is that ogre of a dwarf?” asked Malak the guards-dwarf. “Captain, Torin’s late again!”

The captain set his shiny metal cap forward on his head as he descended the stairs. Another day begins in the fortress, and with it, another failure in discipline. The captain brought his rod down onto the table where Malak had been munching on a chicken leg. “See to it, dwarf!” shouted the captain. “Are you a member of the castle guard, or aren’t you?”

Malak descended the stairs to the dungeon, axe in hand. It wasn’t like Torin to miss a meal. Below, in the darkness, were a dozen shining red eyes. Goblins! The guard knocked a flying blade out of the air with the hilt of his weapon. He reached for his whistle, but before he could put it to his lips, they were on him, clawing, biting, evil!

Shzar

(July 16 2008)

&D###ggggggg,.|@@

The demon king rode high on his dragon as his vast army assaulted the dwarf fortress below. Catapults smashed the battlements with huge balls of fire. Bolts and arrows filled the air in a deadly exchange of fire. Armored trolls ran into the stone gates, smashing into the rock and sending shards flying. Not one space above ground was safe.

"How could it come to this?" cried Durkan, hands over his ears.

"Courage," said the warrior dwarf Glamsfir.

Pebbles fell from the ceiling as another bombardment rocked the fortress. Glamsfir stood and peered out of an archery portal. The situation was fatal. He lifted his crossbow and put down a goblin archer in an act of defiance, though it mattered little.

"We have not long to live," said Durkan, "do we Glamsy?"

"I told you not to call me that," said the dwarf hero.

Kuroneko

(29 October 2009)

.,.UUOW.,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lord Herman

(Early 2009)

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

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

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

(5 December 2009)

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

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

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

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

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

“You can count on me, Captain,” said Joan.

“Good show,” said the officer in command. “Assemble the squad before the gate at the day’s last light.”

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

“My axe is yours,” said Joan.

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

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

(15 January 2010)

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

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

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

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

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

(23 April 2010)

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

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

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

“How did you fare? Where is Sarumak?” asked Joan.

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

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

--

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

“You have news, Captain Willard?” said the king.

“We have raided the enemy camp,” said the captain.

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

Joan stepped forward and threw down the blade.

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

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

(16 September 2010)

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

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

“Who is this dwarf?” asked the king.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will strike the demon dead.”

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

“Burn them!” screamed Sarumak. “Burn them all!”

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

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

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

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

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

(24 December 2010)

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

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

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

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

(5 February 2012)

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

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

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

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

“What happened here?” asked the dwarven sheriff.

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

Insanity Prelude

(1. I forgot, sometime in 2009)

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

“Who are you?” asked Kramer.

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

“Yes,” said the dwarf, “but…”

(2. December 10, 2009)

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“Stomer,” said Tainaria, snapping her clawed fingers, “take him.”

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

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

“Come out, killer!” shouted Tainaria.

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

“This is the elf forest,” said Kramer.

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

“You,” said Kramer, “you’re not going to leave me out here!?”

Meto

(9th December, 2009)

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Dwarves hurled boulders down on the invaders as they advanced by ladder. Sharkra smiled, for this meant they had run out of ammunition for their war machines. She dodged out of the way as a human invader plunged down past her to a rocky doom. Sharkra grimaced. Machines or not, these dwarves would fight the death to save their blasted mountain. At last she reached the battlements.

Battle master Sharkra was an evil genius of combat. It was rumored she had sacrificed everything she loved for riches and lost it all gambling the same night. Her very aura smelled of the underworld. Now she soldiered for anyone who would pay her. Pay her and her elite troop of mercenaries, the Unholy Band. This time is was rat-lord Gomra that hired her.

Sharkra pulled herself onto the fortress wall. Members of the Unholy Band leapt over the battlements, light on their feet. Together they advanced on the dwarves. Sharkra wielded a giant mace, while the Band pulled rapiers from polished sheaths.

“We have you,” said Sharkra. “Throw down your weapons and die quickly.”

Something sailed through the air and struck Sharkra in the face, a glass flask filled with fuming liquid. The glass shattered sending pain coursing through the evil woman’s body. She put her hand to her face and it came back covered in slime. She straightened up and looked around. The Unholy Band was laughing at her. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time.

“What are you standing around for?” screeched Sharkra. “Kill them.”

The vain and evil Sharkra pulled a mirror from her pack which she carried at all times. Her face was never much to begin with, but now it was utterly ruined. Gomra, thought Sharkra, it is all his fault. The warrior woman whistled and the Unholy Band followed her as she retreated from the fortress.

“It is said,” intoned dwarf captain Duzelm, “that evil shall always turn upon itself.”

“What is your plan master?” asked Bally, the dwarven squire.

“We shall follow this villain back to Lord Gomra,” said Duzelm “and catch all the rats in the same trap. Go to the humans in Gelthtown, they have the quick steeds we require.”

Before the day was through, the men of Gelthtown had assembled the horses, along with master rider Jorna. She was blond and lean, draped in the leathers of a Gelthtown tracker. The dwarves climbed onto the horses and strapped themselves in.

“Are you sure you can keep up with the Unholy Band?” asked Captain Duzelm.

Jorna laughed. “Just pray I don’t reach Gomra before Sharkra does,” she said.

Kittah_Khan

(12th January, 2010)

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

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

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

“Yes, Prince Altera,” said the elf woman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You cannot defeat Renere,” said the elf.

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

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

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

Angry Licker

(15th January, 2010)

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The mad dwarf spun this way and that to confront his pursuers. He held a knife, given to him by his father on his first day at the carpentry shop. He could hear the sheriff shouting, the crowd closing in. Tears rolled down his face. It felt good that it was over, but all that was left was shame. Pike dwarves were filling into the room. Soon they would subdue him, and bring him to the hammerer, to be forged anew. He didn’t really believe that. He doubted any dwarf did. When he went out, he wouldn’t go out like a dwarf. He would die like an animal. A new fire glowed in his eyes. With a savage howl, the dwarf charged.

Flying Olm

(30th January, 2010)

TTT,.""".,@@@@@,"".TTTPETTT

The elf watched from above as the dwarves passed below. One by one, the saplings fell to the dwarven machetes. Let them come in a little further, he thought. The bush would close in behind them, sealing them in, away from their kins-dwarves. Then the forest would claim them, lost forever beneath the green of the treetops. The black panther woman drew back her teeth in a snarl. She turned her body on the high branch to address the elf.

“Master Elekain,” it said, “we should kill them now and gnaw on their bones.”

The elf felt the hunger in his teeth. His temples pulsed with rage. His eyes traced the dwarves’ path back to the edge of the forest. A troop of warriors gathered there, bidding their country-dwarves farewell. Elekain drew his blade, a dagger of hardened wood, magically sharpened by the river pebbles of the Forest Spirit. He pricked his fingertip and let the blood fall.

The dwarf slapped his neck with a gauntlet and pulled it back to see a small smear of blood. He stepped out of line and scanned the treetops, pointing his pike. Grimacing, he trotted to the front of the column. Captain Dumple didn’t like to be bothered with useless reports, but he had a feeling about this. He stepped up behind the head dwarf.

“Speak, Lt. Garndel.”

Captain Dumple was twice as tall as the greatest dwarf warrior. It was rumored that he was sired by a man. His beard was dark and thick, his eyes fierce and flashing. He had seen a dozen battles and had come out without a scratch. He was a harsh master but was respected for he brought victory. Garndel swallowed his fear.

“Captain,” said Garndel, “the elves are upon us.”

Schmi

(16th March, 2010)

EHEHEHEHEHE#####||@+@@@@+||==O|TTTOTTO+>

Magic flying horses galloped through the sky carrying the elf warriors on bolts of enchanted lightning. It was war, oh war, that brought the warriors hence. The evil dwarf fighter stood atop the tower of the dwarf fortress waiting for them to come. In his arsenal were a dozen flame-throwing catapults ready to spring into action. Giant trolls dragged the ammunition up from the mines. The dwarf raised his hand. A hundred marksdwarves aimed their crossbows. Rainbows filled the sky as the elves approached. With a final snort, the dwarf let his hand drop.

(23 April, 2010)

~~/~~U~~~~

When it was over, not a good thing lived. With the failure of the sacred band all hope was lost. The trees of the forest were swept from the earth, and those luckless beings that lived were enslaved to the evil dwarf fortress. The dwarves delved deep into the earth and released onto it, the horrors of the underworld. Fed up with the world, the gods turned their back on it, leaving only Armok, the blood god, to rule alone.

Peasant farmer Alan heard a whistling noise from above and turned his head to the blood red sky. He leapt to the side as a huge broadsword landed at his feet. Alan scratched his head. The gods ask too much, he thought. All of his ancestors had fought and died in elongated wars. What can he give but his weak life?

Hazmat

(24 April 2010)

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

Kaltor

(30 April 2010)

 ,E..U~~~ 

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

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

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

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

“I come to slay the dragon,” said the hero.

(2 March 2012)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaelis Ebonrai

(22 June 2010)

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

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

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

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

(6 September 2010)

+u~+U++U+UUUUUU

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

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

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

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

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

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

(26 September 2010)

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

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

Geldrix’s face burned with anger and shame.

“Coward?” said the mocking goblin. “Is that it?”

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry, son,” said the creature. “We all have a little rabbit in us.”

Robert 'Brightgalrs' Schultz

(31 June 2010)

,.Wk,.. //####||@++>||###

No lock was safe from the kobold master thief, Macabis. The last year he broke into the thick-walled castle Varnus. And only two weeks ago he had robbed the goblin dungeon under the Blood Mountain. But Macabis shared the failings of all of his kind. For to a kobolds there was no difference between a rough diamond and a piece of shattered glass.

“You, go here,” said the wizard, pointing at a map scrawled in the dirt.

“Bring me this.” The wizard produced from his robes a metal cup. The kobold blinked, its yellow eyes seemed to search for meaning and quickly gave up. The wizard reached into his other sleeve and produced a drinking horn. The kobold screeched and grabbed it with both hands. The humans always had the best drink. Macabis knew what the scratchings on the cup meant. It was the dwarf fortress of Antguard. He yanked away the horn and slung it over his back. There would be many more such drinks once the wizard had his cup.

Aliz still felt a little queasy as the sun broke over the mountains. He had been on tower duty for two months, punishment for staring too long at the beautiful queen. Had they only know the true subject of his avarice. It was the artifact cup from which she drank. It had the power to make any liquid taste like the finest wine. As he daydreamed, a shadow passed under the castle gate.

markpank

(27 November 2010)

,""."".,UU,..,."",."||W+++||

Power. That was all that mattered. Evil wizard Marcon commanded a legion of vampires and all manner of night creatures. It was the daylight that was his greatest weakness. When all his creatures crawled back into their graves, there he was, nothing but a lonely old man in a crumbling tower. The peasants of the village knew to stay away from the ugly building. It was rumored you could see a mournful eye staring out of the highest window, resenting all that lived.

Young page Allen took the hand of his best girl Mandy and raced through the dawn village on a lover’s tryst.

“Where are we going, my love?” asked Mandy.

“To Marcon tower,” said the boy. “They will never look for us there.”

“No!” cried Mandy. “A thousand times no! That place is haunted.”

“What’s a matter Mandy?” mocked Allen. “Are you afraid of the bogeyman?”

(18 December 2010)

,.||>W>+UU||,.

Shafts of light from the failing sun shone through the high windows and fell on the lovers as they lay on the grassy floor. As Allen looked up at the inside of the crumbling building, he did so with the eyes of a boy who knew he was now a man. Somewhere in the distance a coyote howled. Night was falling. Not even Allen was stupid enough to stay in Marcon tower after dark. He tried to sit up, but Mandy lay across his arm and would not stir.

With wondrous motion the tower began to transform. Torches appeared on the walls. Cold stones replaced the grass on which Allen lay. Planks of wood sprouted from the walls and unfolded into a great spiral stairway. Chill gripped Allen’s heart as he heard steps resounding down the stair. He tried to pull his hand free but Mandy lay still and cold to the touch. With horror, the young man watched as the wizard descended, cloaked and menacing.

“All hope is for naught,” said the wizard. “The fruit of your deed is death eternal.”

(06 January 2011)

,.,||U*+++=U=++||,.,o,.,.

Mandy rose from her place with the jerking movement of a marionette. Allen cried out and crawled backward across the floor. Naked, he ran from the tower, the wizard’s evil laughter ringing in his ears. He ran in fear, faster even than the bogeymen the wizard sent to chase him. Finally, his body cut up, bleeding, and exhausted, he collapsed on the steps of the temple.

“I pity you Allen,” said the priest, “for it takes such a disaster to bring you to the temple of Domon.”

The boy cried and told his tale of terror and woe. The priest shook his head and told him there was little hope for Mandy now. He handed Allen a small gem -- the Eye of Domon. It was said to pierce all darkness.

“You must return to the tower tonight,” said the priest, “lest Mandy fall forever.”

That night, Marcon was preparing for the ceremony, giggling like a little girl. Mandy was laid out before him on a stone slab. Just as he raised the dagger for the death stroke, Allen kicked in the door. Marcon made to spit out a curse when the boy raised up the Eye of Domon. With a shriek, Marcon transformed into a barn owl and escaped through the open ceiling.

(02 April 2011)

|++UuU++++U|N.,.

“There is nothing we can do for her but wait,” said the priest.

Allen paced the length of the church, stealing glimpses of Mandy’s body splayed out on the altar. He remembered the wizard’s curse. His hand gripped the jewel as he prayed to Domon for mercy. Mandy cried out. The priest put his hands on the girl’s body and forced her down.

Allen’s eyes went to the windows where candles flickered and went out.

“This girl is with child,” growled the priest. “Where is the father?”

A knock came at the door. Allen looked to the priest, eyes wild with fear. “Go,” said the priest, turning back to the writhing girl. The frightened boy picked up a torch and made his way to the front of the darkened church. Behind him, the girl was screaming between gurgling coughs. He dare not look now.

The door swung open to reveal a terrible phantom. It wore a tattered black robe and its head was a bare skull. “My master Marcon has sent me to take what is his,” it said. Allen was paralyzed with fear. The girl’s screams had stopped. Allen turned to see the priest, covered in blood. In his hands he held a baby, squirming and alive, but silent as death itself.

(14 November 2011)

,.U/|++++U|.

The air was still, and not an insect stirred in the cursed village. It was here that evil was born, and it was here evil would die. Sir Ramet looked to the most pathetic cottage and made his way to the door. When no one answered, he knocked the door off its hinges with a blow from his hammer.

He walked through a cloud of dust to see the body of a white haired old man, half starved to death. Ramet put his foot on the man’s shoulder and jostled the body. It was then that he saw that it was not a man, but a boy, his hair as white as snow.

“Allen?” said Ramet. “Know that your treason has cause many a soldier to lose his life, and while your son walks the earth, no one is safe.”

“Son?” said Allen to the darkness. “I have a son? My poor Mandy.”

Ramet lifted his hammer and Allen seemed suddenly to come to life.

“Wait!” shouted the wretch. “I hold something which is your only salvation.”

The knight watched as Allen held up a small jewel.

“The Eye of Domon?” asked Ramet, unbelieving.

The two left the cottage and turned toward Marcon’s tower. The crumbling building cast a shadow across the village, the sun hiding behind its upper reaches. It was deserted, but both men knew what would happen after sundown, only a few short hours away.

(14 December 2011)

U,.,.,.||U/++Ui++||

Once they reached the ruined tower, Ramet reached under his cloak, behind his ample belly and drew a short, thick sword. He bid Allen come closer and took the Eye from him. There was a socket in the hilt of the blade and the knight drove the jewel home. A flash of light blinded the two men briefly and when he opened his eyes, Allen saw Ramet holding the glowing sword before him.

“Behold,” shouted Ramet. “This is a weapon of Domon. Take it! For the seed you have spilled now soils the land, and you must put it to right.”

Allen touched the sword as the last rays of sunshine faded from behind the hills. Once again, Marcon’s tower rebuilt itself. Bats flew out from the top as all manner of groans and scrapings came from inside. Allen’s courage failed him and he turned to run. Ramet put his hand on the boy’s chest and pushed him back.

“Forget all that,” said the knight. “It is time you understood the consequences of your actions. I didn’t loose the demon. You did. Take the sword, go in there, and slay the monster.”

The sword of Domon trembled in Allen’s shaking hand as he opened the door to the tower. Calling on all his force of will, he stepped inside. It was dark save for a single candle resting on the floor. Beside it knelt a person in a dark colored robe. Silently, Allen stepped up behind and pulled back the hood of the robe with the tip of his sword.

“Mandy?” he said.

(02 February 2012)

U<<<U####/##o##

“I could be Mandy to you,” said the girl, rising from the floor.

Allen’s sword fell to his side, a tear rolling down his cheek. The dark creature brushed the white hair away from his face. The shadows dancing around began to take physical shape. Allen put his arm around the girl. The world began to spin. In his mind he could see ghostly armies marching across the land. His lips touched hers.

“That thing is your daughter!” cried Ramet. “Kill it!”

With a jerk, Allen drove his sword through the girl’s ribs. The creature screamed. Red gas shot from its mouth and eyes. Allen backed away, disgusted and horrified. Ramet caught Allen in his arms as the building shook and swayed. Then, all went silent, all but Marcon's laughter.

“This villain has lived long enough,” spit Ramet.

Up and Up the knight ran, bounding three steps at a time. Marcon spotted him and quit his laughter quick. A pair of shadow demons rose from the floor, but Ramet barreled straight through them and met Marcon at the roof of the tower.

“I don’t suppose you would stab an opponent in the back?” asked Marcon.

The wizard turned and leapt from the tower, transforming into an owl. The knight threw his war hammer with all his might. It struck the bird in an explosion of feathers. Marcon’s lifeless body spiraled slowly down to the earth.

When Ramet reached the bottom of the stairs, Allen was on his knees, staring at the floor. The knight lifted him up, leaned close and spoke to him.

“Listen,” said Ramet. “We have something Marcon and your poor Mandy don’t have. A future.”

suntorvic

(13th December, 2010)

s,.s.C,..@,.,//%%%%%

Dwarf hero Ulkram walked right up to the cyclops's lair. It was a shabby place, just a cave under a grassy hill. Here and there, stray sheep wandered hither and fro, nibbling on the wet grass. Not a stranger to herohood, Ulkram barged inside, axe held high. Inside, he was met with all manner of foul smells. Dwarven skins lined the walls and on the floor was a pile of bearded skulls. Ulkram was rendered senseless by the unimaginable evil. He went outside to wretch.

“My home is not to your liking?” came a deep voice.

The cyclops was enormous. In its mighty fist was a shepherd’s cane. The monster dropped to one knee. Ulkram could barely keep his axe steady.

“Tell you what,” said the monster. “How about we play a game? You ask me what I’m thinking, then I you. If I can’t answer, I let you go. If you can’t answer, you go in my pot. Agreed?”

Having no other choice, Ulkran nodded his head in agreement.

Japa

(27th December, 2010)

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

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

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

(4th February, 2011)

lllllTS-@,lllll,.@@@@

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

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

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

“Who sent you?” demanded the dwarf.

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

(23th May, 2011)

++Ao@++

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

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

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

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

Alluvian_Est-Endrati

(19th December, 2010)

~~~~..pppp.,.,@,..,.,.

In the frozen wastes far to the south, the dwarves toiled to construct a mighty fortress out of glacial ice. Beyond the frozen walls, at the edge of the snowy island, penguin men watched with fascination. At the center of the iceberg, an underwater volcano rooted the floating ice in place. It had not erupted in a hundred years, but the dwarves tested the mountain’s patience with their constant digging. Arud the penguin man leaned toward his friend and whispered.

“I think these creatures may be more trouble than a pack of leopard seal,” he said.

The wind blew harsh, clouding their view. A small man appeared through the blizzard. His beard was frozen and his skin was blue with cold. In his hand he held an iron pick. The penguin men looked at each other and clucked. The dwarf reached them, leaned on his pick and spoke.

“You must help us,” he said.

(20th February, 2011)

~~~~ppp,,,.,.,p,.!@!,.,.

A red light shone from further up the iceberg. Seconds later the trio was rocked by a wave of hot gas. The penguins fell to their bellies and slid toward the relative safety of the sea. At the last minute, Arud turned to see the dwarf thrashing on the icy slope, his coat on fire. Arud turned and jumped to his feet, leaving his puzzled friend behind.

“Come friend,” said the penguin man, slapping the flames from the dwarf’s coat, “we must leave this island.”

“You don’t understand,” said the dwarf. “This island was chosen. At the heart of the mountain is the Fire Star, a jewel so powerful it could turn night to day. Please, Forge Father, forgive our tampering. We sought to take it for our own and it became misaligned. Look there!”

A ray of light shot up from the volcano. Arud felt the heat on his face. The jewel’s power caused clouds to burst into flame and burned its signature into the blue vault of the sky. The penguin man did not understand, but he knew he must act. He pulled the dwarf to his feet with his flipper and together they ran into the smoking ruin.

(10th August, 2011)

UW||UUUUUUUU,.\U,..UUUUUU

The hanging bodies twitched against the wall of the evil castle. Thalfor had heard of the witch’s power. That was why he allowed himself to be taken prisoner. The others around him looked far worse off. They trembled as they passed under the menacing gate. Everywhere were the sounds of screaming men. Behind, zombies with whips drove the crowd into the blood-soaked courtyard.

Before the prisoners, at the top window of the keep, stood Camestra the Wicked. One could say she may have been beautiful once, but now she was sickly and pale. Behind her stood a brawny zombie, tall and menacing.

“Now you shall all die,” said the witch. “But one of you shall be my new body servant. Old Donus is beginning to give off a nasty odor.”

The prisoners began to panic. Armed zombies closed in for kill. Thalfor reached to his inner thigh and pulled out a hidden blade. One by one he cut down the zombies. Camestra brought her hand to her mouth and Donus let out a low groan.

“No one will die today,” said Thafor, “that hasn’t died before.”

Vattic

(27th December, 2010)

kBkBkBkBkB"",."".,\U\U\U\U

Thunder across the midnight plain. Captain Gilroy and his men had been marching all day in the driving rain, all to bring news of the defeat at Tradalfadad. If they did not reach the castle soon, the king’s legions would be unready to face the enemy already at their doorstep. Gilroy looked at the thick grass to the sides of the trail. Something charged out of the grass behind him, knocking one of the soldiers senseless.

“Bacabadabis!”

“Kobolds,” shouted Gilroy. “Make ready!”

The knights drew their swords as out of the grass charged a dozen menacing beasts, kobolds on their backs. Keebis Clan, thought Gilroy, the boar riders. The head kobold was a mean-looking creature, not cowardly like the rest. Gilroy took aim at him and lowered his visor. He set his leg and charged, sword raised over his head. Unflinching, the kobold kicked the sides of his wild boar and held his spear for the kill.

Zai

(19 December 2010)

,.,CT,.,.

The mining of the dwarves was as an irritating vibration in the bronze giant’s head. For five hundred years he had struck a heroic pose. Now his anger was so great, he must act. Stiffly at first, the colossus dismounted his pedestal. A jungle had grown up around his temple since he had been placed there. Where were those who worshiped at the shrine? Dead, while the dwarves lived? There would be nothing left of their mountain but rubble.

As he passed through many lands, his anger would not fade, for it was as large as he was. He did not usually care for what he stepped on, but this time was different. He stopped for a moment and looked below. Underneath his foot was a tiny speck. He pinched it up and held it before his eyes. It was a giant tortoise.

CharlesPeter

(6 January 2011)

UU,.~U~,.\b,.

The adventurers made their way into the hive. Long had the bee women tormented the people of Bodarga. Bram would put an end to this nonsense. The adventurers entered the huge structure through a large hexagonal door. The tunnel turned and twisted at strange angles. Everywhere was the ever-present buzzing of the enemy. Suddenly a bee woman appeared, wielding a stinger spear. Bram let out a warrior cry and charged at her, brandishing a sword. Suddenly his feet sank into the floor. A honey trap!

Sowelu

(6 January 2011)

ccccc,.,.||,.,@,.,.@,..c||sssss||

Like wild banshees, the calls of the coyotes went on all night, disturbing the dwarf outpost and all within. Watch-dwarf Aliz took up his torch and scaled the stairs of the wooden tower that stood at the gatehouse of their wooden palisade. Nothing. Nothing, but the hated forest that stood upon the rolling hills on which their wooden fortress sat. It was risky to mine out in the wilderness, away from the mountains. But without risk there is no profit, and danger is its own reward.

They kept sheep behind that wooden fence. Nali could smell them. The short hairy man things look easy enough to outrun, but they were like men, they would have weapons, and fire. But Nali’s charge were hungry. A coyote nipped at Nali’s hairy leg. Nali tussled the coyote’s head. It would be tonight.

The coyotes howled from the woods in front of the gate whilst Nali made his way around the back of the fortress, clutching a pair of spears. When he reached the darkest spot, he wedged a spear against the wall and used it to lift himself over the side. He made his way carefully past the drunken dwarven guards to the place where the sheep were penned. Just as he was about to open the gate, he froze.

“Coyote man!”

Usurper

(7 January 2011)

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

The calls of the loons echoed across the misty lake. Aliz had come here from the mountain to seek answers, and as he looked up to the hills leading down to the water, his heart still felt sorrow. He was cursed, you see. Every weapon he made would break, and every foundation he laid would falter. This was an ill fate for a dwarf. Aliz fell to his knees at the water’s edge and prayed to the faeries that dwelt there.

“Why do you cry, Aliz?” said a resounding voice.

“All the work I do is of dust,” cried the dwarf. “Why do the gods let me live?”

“But your weapons are destined to bring down giants,” said the voice, “and your works to last till the end of time.”

Gunslinger

(7 January 2011)

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

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

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

Haggle

(18 January 2011)

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

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

“Let’s see what you’ve got, half-man.”

Narushima

(06 February 2011)

||%@~+|++

“Tosid, Aliz, and Sedil watched with anticipation as the workers chiseled through layer after layer of raw adamantine. The dwarves had long imagined this moment, a reality of eternal wealth. There was a scream, then another. The mineral vein on which they were mining fell away into darkness.

Aliz awoke in the manager’s barracks. It had all been a dream, but his hands were wet. He hopped off the top bunk and slid on a puddle of liquid. It was blood. He stood up to see Tosid in the bottom bunk, stone dead.

“Could I have done this in my sleep?” thought Aliz. “But I was just at the mining ceremony. Where is Sedil? First things first. Where do I hide the body?”

Ves

(08 February 2011)

,.@@@Ugg,..,.,?J?

Some say the world rests on the back of a giant tortoise. Only few would know for sure. The dark wizard Afbacam was fleeing from justice when he escaped through the cracks of the earth. Ramet followed him. He was hero to his tribe, and with all the villages’ money, he had hired a band of dwarves to take him through the darkest recesses of the world.

“The gorlak said he went that way,” screamed the dwarf, “so he went that way!”

It went on for hours like this. Ramet and the gorlaks watched inside the dark grotto as the dwarves fought and cussed. They had been traveling the dark roads underground for days. There was no sunshine, and the whiskey had long since run dry. Ramet took to his feet and sighed. Slowly he meandered toward the direction the gorlak indicated.

“Don’t venture there alone,” suggested the little yellow creature. “The Jabberer might get you.”

Psitaylor

(2 April 2011)

,|++++|@,.U.,.T,.,.

The footstep of doom fell hard on Tiger Valley. Many of the elves and dwarves that lived there peaceably watched with horror as Mount Ugath erupted. Clouds of purple fog flowed down the sides of the mountain and engulfed the valley. In a few days the dust settled. No one thought anything was the worse for wear. Not at first.

“The Valley of the Waking Dead?” asked the poacher. “Aye, you are headed in the right direction. Tiger Valley they once called it. But you don’t want to go that way boy.”

The young man thanked the grizzled hunter and went on his way. Casser was the eldest son of King Darek. With all his younger brothers beginning to cast their eyes on his aging father’s throne, Casser knew he had to prove his worth as a hero.

The entrance to the valley was a steep cliff following a tumbling stream. Prince Casser bid his page return his horse to the castle and descended into the valley alone. When he reached the bottom, he looked up to see the green, glowing trees in the bright sun. There was not a sound in the whole valley.

At long last he found the village. The fields were neatly kept, but there was no animal in sight. Not one living being. Casser moved to one of the thatch-roofed huts. He put his gauntlet to the door and it swung open. Inside the furniture was all in order. Dinner places were set at the table.

There was no food. No people. Casser was taken by a sudden hunger. He looked in his pack and found it empty. His servant had forgotten to fill it. He grew angry, but his frustration vanished when he spied it. An apple hung low on a tree just outside the house. He emerged from the cabin and reached out for the fruit.

“Don’t do it,” said a voice from deeper in the village.

Casser looked to see a dwarf girl, strangely glowing with some fell light. Casser brought the apple away from his lips and spat. What had happened to this place? He looked away from the strange phantom and up at the mountain. It was said a dragon lived there.

“Had you taken one bite of that apple, you would be ‘stone dead’ as you humans are fond of saying,” said the dwarf. “Not now. Not days from now. But soon. This whole valley is poisoned. Its only inhabitants are the dead. You must save us.”

The prince retreated as the girl approached. Other spirits began to appear from the houses.

“You must kill the dragon,” she said, “and end the curse. You have no choice. You have already breathed the air of the valley. Your fate is sealed, along with all of ours.”

Running back toward the waterfall, Casser knew he had failed the test of manhood. He climbed and climbed, not stopping till he breathed the sweet air of the real world. One of the lord’s squires was there. “That didn’t take very long,” said the smart ass. “The underworld must not sire demons like it used to.”

On the ride home, Casser felt an itch under his gauntlet. He removed the metal glove and found his hand red and inflamed. He poked at his blackened fingernail and it fell away. Underneath was a thin, razor-like talon. Casser gagged into his mouth, a tear falling from his eye.

“Problem, sire?” asked the squire.

They rode in silence to Red Castle, where King Darek awaited them.

USP45

(23 May 2011)

gBgB,.,,,.,,..,@,.e.e

The beak-dogs could not hunt by smell. It was with their bulging black eyes that they could see through any disguise. On their backs the goblins rode. They were chasing escaped prisoners, two elves and a dwarf. The dwarf couldn’t get far. Not as far as the elves. Not in this country.

“Hurry up short-stuff,” said the elf. “I can hear the beak-dogs chirping.”

Aliz the dwarf thought it might be better if they did catch him.

mux951

(13 June 2011)

~~~~++@||.,,..,.,gggDDggDDggggDggDgg

Night and day were the same, months of black darkness, punctuated by jets of fire from the many wingless dragons that crawled in the valley below. Goblins were everywhere, picking off careless dwarfs with well-placed arrows. One dwarf remarked that it was like living each waking moment in the shadow of the hammerer.

Alnar was not one to give up so easily. He vowed, though only a blacksmith’s apprentice, to save the fortress singlehandedly. He would build a tube from the lip of the volcano to the goblin horde and fry them forever. If only he had the king’s permission. Best to ask later.

(04 December 2011)

++++|++@\o|

As the enemy surrounded the fortress and all seemed lost, the dwarven king did an inexplicable thing by granting an audience to a lone idiot dwarf. A pair of royal guards dragged Alnar into the feast hall. His eyes were blackened as the guards had beaten him up a taste for his insolence. They dumped him before the king and he sneezed, spraying blood onto the king’s slipper.

“Speak,” hissed the king.

Alnar crawled to the side of the throne and pulled away a plain white sheet revealing a crimson handled lever.

“One pull of this lever and you will unleash the fury of Red Mountain,” said Alnar, “and bathe the enemy in a lake of fire.”

“You did this without my knowledge or consent?” asked the king.

Alnar swallowed and slowly nodded his head.

“Lock him in his quarters,” said the king, “to await the hammerer.”

As he heard the lock slide in, Alnar walked to the corner of his tiny room. Silently, he slid his cabinet away from the wall, revealing a second red lever.

(04 March 2012)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|@@

Out of ammunition, the dwarves were reduced to hurling rocks at the invaders now scaling the walls. The king locked himself in the throne room, forbidding all disturbances. Try as he might, he could think of no solution to the mess he was in. Always he found his eyes drawn to the lever. Maybe the crazed dwarf was right.

No, thought the king. No dwarf would make a fool of the king. He seized the lever and ripped the whole mechanism from the floor in a frenzied rage. A messenger ran into the room, finding the king wheezing, spittle dripping from his beard.

“I know you ordered no disturbances,” said the page, “but someone has released the fire of Red Mountain!”

The king trotted up the stairs of the tower, his lungs burning. Once at the top, he saw a sight like no other. Rivers of molten rock flowed from the mountain, burying the invaders or sending them running, on fire.

“An outrage,” spat the king. “I will have that traitor Alnar skinned alive.”

Met

(June 2011)

||~@++%||@++++

“I am innocent of these crimes!” cried Fuglin as he was dragged away. Sitting in the dungeon cell, he could recall the cheers of the dwarves as the judge pronounced the verdict. It wasn’t fair. The adamantine wasn’t his. He was just holding it for somebody. Now in prison, he was left to rot. A guard stopped by his cell and poured a cup of gruel on the cold stone floor. Anger and despair were all he felt now. From now on he dared not hope.

--

It had begun as such a small thing. Fuglin and the goblin had known each other since the construction of the fortress. Fuglin was young then.

One day Fuglin visited the goblin, this time locked in the stockade.

“You know the path through the stone?” said the goblin. “The one we built as children? You must go there and bring me what you find. It is the key to my release.”

(July 2011)

,.,.,.,.,@|#######&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The space was not built for more than a child, a narrow, twisting tunnel winding its way through the foundations of the fortress. At the bottom, Fuglin saw a light, a silvery glowing rock at the end of the tunnel. This must be it, thought Fuglin, a bribe to set the goblin free. Hastily, Fuglin took up his pick and chiseled off a piece of the silver metal.

Something lay beyond the tunnel. A hole the size of a dwarf’s fist opened where Fuglin struck. He could hear a strange howling within, no doubt another subterranean jungle. The dwarf didn’t stay to find out. He squirmed as fast as he could, finally reaching the exit where he found the goblin, free from his bonds.

“You survived,” said the goblin. “Keep the adamantine as a token of our friendship.”

“Wait!” cried Fuglin, but the goblin had disappeared.

(October 2011)

@@@@@,.,o@,..##||#&#&#&&&&#&

What happened next was hard to say. There was a lot of smoke and fire. Dwarves ran screaming through the fortress. Captains shouted orders to soldiers they could not see through the clouds of burning vapor. Fuglin was scared beyond reason. He tried to follow the others, ducking when the monsters swooped down.

It seemed it would never end, then Fuglin came rolling out of the fortress gate just as another fire blast rocketed overhead. As it was, the demons could not, or would not set foot outside the fortress. What few dwarves that were left gathered at the hills below. Fuglin recognized a blacksmith which with he had apprenticed. Before he could speak the blacksmith pointed his finger.

“He is the one!” the dwarf cried. “Look! He still has the rock in his paw!”

Fuglin looked down, having until now forgotten the adamantine in his hand.

Rhazak

(19 July 2011)

+++@@++++@||

Terror! Badru cried defiantly as he was shaved. The evil dwarves held Badru down as dwarven bandit lord Ukros worked his knife against the victim’s beard.

“You look better this way, Badru,” said Lord Ukros. “More like an elf.”

The villain left Badru upon the hillside in the shadow of the dwarf fortress. He was sore and beaten, and his leg was most likely broken. The guards were sure to find him soon. He pulled his scarf up to his nose. The sign of his shame couldn’t be seen by his underlings.

“What happened to you, Badru?” asked the king. “And why are you wearing that ridiculous mask?”

Badru withdrew the mask from his shaven face and the guard holding him cried out and dropped the dwarven hero to the floor.

(11 August 2011)

||+++@@|+++

“They are no more dwarf than you,” said Badru’s woman. ”They may have beards it's true, but they live outdoors, squatting in the grass like rabbits. You will find them, and return them to the hammerer, dead or alive.”

Metal clanked against stone as Badru rose. His limb was now more machine than leg. He scratched at the bristling hairs of his chin. From the wall, he took his trusty axe. As he walked from the room, his woman embraced him from behind. “Kill them,” she said. “Kill them all.”

Badru strode before the recruits, his metal leg creaking, a scarf over his mouth. “Alright daisies,” he said. “Our target is a worthless bandit named Ukros. If you see him, leave him be. That elf-spawned toadstool is mine.”

Haedrian

(11 August 2011)

++@=@++++

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

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

“The Count is a vampire,” said Roder.

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

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

DreamThorn

(11 August 2011)

"aaaaaa,.,..,@|@@,.,.aaaaaaa"

“This is it,” said Thash. “This is where it happened.”

The other dwarves looked around the cavern. They had followed an ancient map through the bowels of the earth, crisscrossing through leagues of twisting tunnels. They had fought crundles, run from jabberers, and followed ridiculous advice from well-meaning gorlaks. All for this. All to reach this point.

“That’s it?” asked Aliz. “That sword sticking in the floor is all that’s holding back the tentacled ones?”

“Yes,” said Thash, “and that is why we must protect it.”

Somewhere above there was a chittering sound.

“Ant men!” cried Aliz.

freeformschooler

(3 July 2011)

@@@@||g??????????????

A fierce dry wind blew up from the valley. Wandros and his dwarves lay behind cacti and sharpened their knives. After a time the goblin came. The dwarves were dead quiet as it passed them by, oblivious. As the creature moved toward the rocks, Wandros stood and beckoned his dwarves to follow.

The Valley of Gold was a real place. Wandros knew it was, and the goblin would show him where it was. Right, then left, then right again the goblin made its way around the canyon walls. There at last was the door. The goblin bent and walked inside, closing the door after him. Wandros took the doorknob in his hand.

“What’s the password?” said a voice from inside.

Tharwen

(17 October 2011)

g,.-,.\@@,.

“He’s not worth it, Gatal,” said the dwarf woman.

Gatal lowered his crossbow. The goblin looked pathetic and beat-up. All his fellow thugs were dead. Still, there was no reforming their kind. The best thanks he could hope for was a dagger between the ribs. He raised the sights of the crossbow to his eyes.

“No!” cried the goblin.

The bolt barely missed the goblin’s ear. He scrambled up and ran into the woods. The dwarf woman took her hand off Gatal’s crossbow.

“I told you he wasn’t worth it,” she said.

“And how do you know such things?” grumbled Gatal.

The dwarf woman snapped her fingers and it began to rain.

Eagleon

(17 August 2007)

,o.o@,.P.

Doran rolled the gray-green schist around slowly in his fingers, examining it closely. A deep red almandine garnet stared back at him from one side of the stone. Truly a fine specimen, he thought. Perhaps this mine isn't a total loss.

The dwarf stood, brushing the dust from his trousers. Now was as good a time as any for some whiskey. Upon turning to the south corridor, he found himself face to face with a sleek velvet figure, terrible and beautiful. A pantherman, here in the mines?! The dwarf stood completely still. The creature could kill him at will. Doran's only hope was that it did not wish to eat him. Its yellow hunter's eyes gazed into his, unblinking, betraying no intention. The finely toned muscles of its body rippled as it positioned itself. To pounce? To bound away? Doran was at the mercy of the beast.

(23 November 2008)

"TW"."".EEEE

The only sound that the wizard heard was the breathing of the beast. The trees of the forest rushed by as the giant tiger bounded over rock and branch, the wizard clinging to its back. Muscles rippled through the great cat's shoulders as they thundered on. Soon they would reach the place of magic, the home of the forest spirit. The wizard leapt from the creatures back and turned, throwing his staff. The tiger stretched back onto its hind legs and caught the staff in its claw, now the shape of a hand. The creature snarled and spoke in an animal language few, save the wizard, understood.

"Alavaster," it said, "we near the sacred grove. Know that is swarming with treacherous elves. We must use caution."

The wizard looked down at the thick hair bristling on the back on his hand. Nothing save the spring of the forest spirit could cure his lycanthropy. No elf would stand in his way. Together, the companions walked along the natural path, carved by a hundred animals seeking an audience with the spirit. The tiger's tail began to wag from side to side. "Do you smell them?" it said.

The wizard took a deep breath through his wolf's muzzle. There was the odor of the enemy, those who would bar him from his only chance to return to human form. Elves. Shadows across the trail. They came on, one after another in a single file line. Their animal instincts proved true. The lead elf stopped when he saw the creatures. Alavaster and the tiger stood firm.

"Animal people!" cried the elf. "Shoot them down!"

Chobeat

(25 December 2011)

Context: I've asked for a story about the ring i gave to my girlfriend. This ring was designed with the help of DF's community and had engraved symbols narrating our story, in a dwarven style.

c,..,,.U=U....,.,,.R

The great warrior looked over what the dwarves had constructed. It was modest, sure, but without a doubt a home built for a true hero. The foundation was as sturdy as the root of a mountain. Its walls and roof shed all elements like shields in the heat of battle. The man smiled and looked down at the ring in his palm. It was inscribed with runes dedicated to this very day.

“Chobeat,” said the girl, “can I open my eyes yet?”

Slowly, Chobeat stepped to his woman and took her hand. He slid the ring on her finger and kissed her hand. She opened her eyes and blushed, startled by the beauty of the ring.

“It is beautiful,” she said.

Sadly, she wasn’t the only one to see the sparkly thing. High above, Ethbesh the roc circled. Since the dawn of time, the evil bird had haunted the valley below from her nest high in the mountain. Hate and jealously drove the monster to new acts of cruelty.

Just as Chobeat was about to carry his woman across the threshold of his new dwarven house, a shadow fell upon him. With one mighty rush of talon and wing, his wife was gone. Chobeat cried out and drew his sword. It was too late.

Then he saw something glowing on the ground. The ring! He picked it up and looked at the strange pictograms. It had dwarf magic. Maybe he could yet find her. He slid the ring onto his little finger. Suddenly he heard voices all around him.

“You can hear me,” said a voice from behind.

Chobeat turned around to see a smiling cat.

“I can help you get her back,” said the creature. “My name is Tao.”

ckwolek

(26 December 2011)

@@@+++=\g+@+

Tsmuaka lifted his head from over the anvil and ran a hand over his bald green head. He looked back at the dwarf woman standing behind him, then cast his gaze around at the many dwarf miners trying to ignore him. They all want her, thought Tsmuaka, but I will be dog meat before they lay a stubby finger on her.

The goblin had been a weapon-smith in the dwarf fortress longer than anyone could remember. The dwarves tolerated his grumpy, vindictive ways because he created the finest swords in Allsphere. But when he married Oril, things changed.

The king had to pardon Tsmuaka for two murders within the first year. Why would a dwarf dare tangle with the woman of the hardest goblin alive? You just had to lay eyes on Oril. Her beauty had blinded man, elf, and animal person. It was so bad that the dwarves looked on Tsmuaka with fear and pity.

“They say Oril with be at the dance tonight,” said Aliz

“What about Tsmuaka?” asked Sudir.

“Forget that old goblin,” said Aliz.

Molay

(25 December 2011)

+@~~~@++g

The miners sat in a circle around the lava well, dipping bits of bread into a bowl of melted dwarven cheese. It was the end of the year, so Aliz stood up and announced that he would make the first prediction. He said that in the next year the war would be over and the dwarves would all come home. Then the miners would strike adamantine, with Nictat taking the first chunk.

Smiling, Nictat rose and looked over the glad faces of his friends. He said that in the coming year old king Ironboot would die and be replaced by his beautiful daughter. All rations would be doubled, and all the prisoners set free.

Something moved in the shadows. The dwarves looked around anxiously. Aliz let out a sigh. It was only poor goblin Dusna.

“I have a prediction for you,” said Dusna. “Not but one of us in this room will live to see the coming year.”

Malimbar04

(2 March 20012)

"TUe,,.,-,.,g"

“What are you doing?” asked Sarvesh.

“Giving my thanks to the trees,” said Alan. “Isn’t that what you people do?”

Sarvesh would never understand her new human friend. Why did he want to be like the elves? Elves have been talking to trees as long as Sarvesh could remember, and they never talked back. She flipped an apple into the air, but before she could catch it, an arrow struck it to a tree.

“Goblins!” cried Sarvesh.

jmullan

(2 March 2012)

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

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

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

“Will you let us in?” shouted the monk.

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

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

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

The monk was still for a moment.

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

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

Jupotter

(3 March 2012)

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

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

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

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

Timtek

(17 March 2012)

~\U/~e~~

Those were the good times, only yesterday. Any child born this day would begin their life in an age of darkness. The dwarf fortresses were all shut, blocking out the evil that now flooded every city and hamlet. Sunlight itself was a thing of the past, for now black clouds crowded out the sky, raining blood on the helpless beings below.

“If only my child were like a seed, blessed Lenge,” cried the desperate mother, “to plant in the ground, in order to spring up in a better day.”

The baby grew silent. Tears pouring from her face, the girl carried her baby outside and set it beside a large stone. There she dug a pit and placed the child inside. With a quick prayer to Lenge, she began to fill in the earth.

Many years later, an elf girl found the old house deserted. Nothing stood but rubble and an odd stone in the ruined garden. The elf tried to read the odd script on the smooth rock.

“Here lies my son, Arkur,” said the elf girl. “May Lenge protect him.”

The earth began to shake and a giant leaf sprouted from the ground. It unfolded and revealed a young man, naked inside. The girl approached. As if bound by a spell, she touched his cheek. His eyes opened and he rose.

“There might still be time,” he said.

Dagny

(17 September 2010)

gggggggggg,.,.~~~~~~&~~~~~

Fires burned in the heart of the mountain as the demon god Yaknor called for the death of the entire dwarf race. Legions of goblins poured up through the cracks of the earth. It was bad news for the dwarves on guard duty that night, destroyed by a thunder of a hundred creatures of the night. Those remaining fought with passion. Sword and axe clashed again and again as the forces of good and evil danced Death’s dance. True heroism would be awoken that day, a shaft of light into the heart of darkness.