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Difference between revisions of "40d:Stories"

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These are stories created by users based on their experiences in-game. They take what happened in-game, and go into more detail. Feel free to add your own!
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{{Quality|Fine|07:29, 25 April 2013 (UTC)}}{{av}}
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==Something Awful - Let's Play Dwarf Fortress==
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'''IMPORTANT: The amount of cursing used in the following stories <s>is very bad</s> would make a dwarf's head explode. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.'''
  
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===Thin Ice<sup>DF</sup>===
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===Boatmurdered===
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The one that started it all. Read it [http://lparchive.org/LetsPlay/Boatmurdered/intro.html here]. (Note that Boatmurdered is from a quite old 2d version of the game, and should probably be in [[23a:Stories]] if that page gets constructed.)
  
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Seven miners arrived at their site during late winter. As the miners began walking across the frozen lake to start digging out all the cliffsides, the entire lake thawed and all seven drowned.
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===Headshoots===
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The modern equivalent of Boatmurdered. Read it [http://lparchive.org/LetsPlay/Headshoots here].
  
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----
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===Syrupleaf===
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The sequel to Headshoots, being just as epic, and even longer. Read it [http://lparchive.org/LetsPlay/Syrupleaf/index.html here].
  
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=== The World's Greatest Animal Trap<sup>DF</sup> ===
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==Archives==
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*[[Stories/Archive 1]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 2]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 3]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 4]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 5]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 6]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 7]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 8]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 9]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 10]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 11]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 12]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 13]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 14]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 15]]
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*[[Stories/Archive 16]]
  
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Knowing that Rith wanted a metal bar for his artifact, ADT ran to the traders just as they were about to leave.
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[[category:Stories]]
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"Please! We need a metal bar, only one!" he cried. The traders scratched their heads and one produced an iron bar from one of their wagons.
 
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"We'd be willing to part with this, if you have a good enough offer..." he softly said. ADT rapidly peeled off his his sock, and offered it to the traders.
 
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"Yes! Such a beautiful garment! Here, take the bar!" yelled the trader. He grabbed the sock, and gave the bar to ADT, who ran inside, struggling to put his shoe on as he did so.
 
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Rith stealthily sneaked from his workshop to the bar stockpiles, being extra careful outside the bedrooms. It was night, so he didn't want to wake any of them.
 
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He opened the door of the stockpile, and peeked in, instantly seeing his prize, the iron bar ADT had bought from the traders. He grabbed it, and started to kiss it, thanking his deity for it. In his happiness, he ran back down to his workshop, not caring how loud he was. He started to engrave the bar, laughing maniacally as he did. But no-one heard, the workshops were just far enough from the bedrooms for them not to.
 
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"What do you mean the iron bar is missing?!" thundered ADT, wiping his mouth with a hankerchief, having just finished breakfast with his lover Taira.
 
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"When you told me to make the wood furnace, I went to get it, and it was not there." said the Architect nervously, wringing his hands in fear, knowing of ADT's short temper.
 
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"Rith, must have been." said ADT, standing up from his chair. He kissed Taira goodbye, and went to the workshop, where Rith was standing smugly.
 
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"Iron bar, WHERE IS IT?!" yelled ADT.
 
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"Used it." said Rith simply
 
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"ON WHAT?!"
 
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"I'll show you."
 
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Rith lead ADT to the animal stockpile, where he was greeted by the sight of a willow animal cage, with an engraving of two cats on a piece of metal.
 
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ADT pointed at the engraving.
 
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"IS THAT WHAT YOU USED OUR IRON FOR?!" he bellowed.
 
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"Yep"
 
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"That thing better be darn expensive."
 
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"15,000☼."
 
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ADT's jaw dropped open.
 
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"Rith, you rock" said he.
 
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----
 
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===The Ghost Cave<sup>DF</sup>===
 
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''Taken from the diary of Kogsak Olinostar, dwarven trader''
 
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There is a place we visit every fall, as the trees begin to drop their leaves. It isn't a fortress, hasn't been for some time...it's more of a cave. It's built into the side of a mountain, right next to a stream. It's the most beautiful place, almost no sign that dwarfish hands had touched the land. No roads, no tree stumps, no dead animals. Then there is the cave itself. It's a small place, just barely big enough for the old trading post that rests within it. The floor is smoothed, and engraved with strange, unsettling images. They seem to move when you watch them, and it makes me uncomfortable to stare at the wall for too long. Walls shouldn't be able to stare back.
 
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This year, as we walked into the cave, Urdim popped out, happy as always. That poor woman is the last inhabitant of the fortress of Astninur, and this cave all that she has. The trading post is the second floor of a two story cave that she calls home...I've only had cause to go below once, when I helped her carry down a barrel of Plump Helmets...I daresay I shall never want to go down there again. Her bed is placed near the door, and then, right behind that lies six coffins, carefully made and sealed shut. Below that is a flooded staircase...it had been one mistake that flooded the whole fortress, she'd explained. It's a terrible story...and yet she seems unaccountably cheerful.
 
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But we do not visit this place every year just to check in on the poor young woman, for she produces incredible pieces of work, ruby encrusted mechanism and masterfully sculpted crowns, made from the very stone of the mountain, yet more beautiful than any metal crown. It is an incredible that she produces it all in her little cave...and so very sad that this work is all that she has to remember her comrades, one her husband, by. Every night, she locks the door to the lower chambers, and we hear the last mark of her madness...voices. A myriad of voices rises from the unnatural floors, filling our sleeping ears with their laughter, and the beating of hammers, and the chink of picks hitting stone. But come day break, it all fades away, and Urdim pops out, smiling, her madness sustaining her for one more day.
 
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When we leave, she sees us off, then vanishes into her cave, closing the door behind her. We've caught many goblins stalking the area, and none of them know of the fortress in the area. None of them even knew that dwarves traveled through here...and our swords ensure that no one will know.
 
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She is indeed a strange one, her madness singularly healing...and yet, sometimes I wonder...for sometimes, the voices sound so real, so convincing...I almost want to share her delusion...that her world is just fine. But I always leave the poor girl behind, to live with her ghosts.
 
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----
 
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===Washing the Dead<sup>DF</sup>===
 
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In a randomly generated world, on top of a high mountain, a dwarf named Meng Tosidmogshum took the last steps up on to the plateau. This was where the entrance to the fortress was to be found...
 
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He had left the fortress where he was born a few weeks ago and had been travelling since, together with his good friend Edëm Dakostlål.
 
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Meng was somewhat skilled with the spear, Edëm with the sword and since their fortress already had enough soldiers they decided to travel here, to Seizureworked. The first dwarves to settle here had arrived many years ago, since then not many had followed. They had heard that they were in need of more soldiers, to ward off the vicious goblins that roamed the mountains.
 
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They had expected a solid gate on the side of the mountain, instead all they could see was a single house on the middle of the plateau, surrounded by a small moat. Confused, they started walking against the house.
 
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Once they were a little bit closer to the house they could see dwarves running in and out of the house, and outside of the moat laid rotten corpses and skeletons of goblins, kobolds and one or two trolls. Getting even closer they could feel a stench, worse than any sewer, any dead were left to rot out in the fields. Meng felt that he might be seeing that breakfast once again and held his hand over his nose.
 
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The dwarves on the small moat-surrounded island began to notice the two dwarves, but didn't spend more than a few seconds to look at the newcomers, they proceeded to do their jobs. Meng soon realised where the awful stench was coming from, as he was walking on the bridge onto the island he looked into the moat, an action he regretted...
 
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This moat was not filled with water, nor was it filled with magma, it was filled with the dead, dwarves and goblins alike, not only did Meng regret looking into the moat, he was starting to regret travelling here in the first place.
 
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Once they had walked over the bridge and stood on the small island, looking at the house, they could now see the entrance to the fortress. In the ground was a hole, covered by a hatch, going down there you'd find a long stairway down to the fortress, it was wide open and dwarves were running in and out frequently, followed by their pets and livestock.
 
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One of the dwarves, some sort of craftsdwarf, greeted them and pointed towards the stairs, telling them that they'd receive a proper welcoming down there. And that was what they did.
 
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They now stood in the meeting halls of Seizureworked, and before them stood an unusually short dwarf, with an unusually long beard.
 
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His short height didn't seem to bother him, though, he grinned and went forward to hug the two dwarves. Another dwarf appeared, handing the newcomers mugs of ale, Meng felt a bit better but he hadn't forgot about the rotting corpses of the world above.
 
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The dwarf told them to follow him to their new homes, and so they started walking down a wide and busy corridor. They took a turn at the near the end of the corridor, and now stood before a massive oaken door, their guide knocked on the door which was opened almost immediately. On the other side of the door was a large room with a high ceiling, they stood on a platform above the actual floor, next to them stood a few soldiers in muddy gear.
 
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One of the soldiers, wielding a copper spear, whispered something to the others, looking at Meng's weapon, a finely crafted steel spear.
 
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Meng's grip on the spear hardened. The dwarf that had opened the door closed it once again, leaving the guide outside.
 
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The door-opening dwarf led them down a ramp onto the muddy floor, which at a closer look was littered with worn clothes and little trinkets. There was another door, even more solid than the last, and made of stone. The dwarf told them that the rooms were behind that door as he started walking up the ramp again.
 
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Meng turned around, more suspicious now, the soldiers had left the room, and the dwarf was running towards the open door, this wasn't right he thought. He started running towards the door, but he was too late, the door-opener (and now also a door closer) ran out and closed the door. Meng was trapped, together with Edëm who was surprisingly uninterested in anything at all.
 
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''TICK TICK TOCK...''
 
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Something happened in the walls around Meng, mechanisms were in the moving.
 
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''TOCK... TOCK... CLONG''
 
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The door behind him started sliding into the wall. What would appear from behind that door, a great two-headed dog? Or perhaps an ogre?
 
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At the same time outside the room, the soldiers were listening to what was happening inside, their ears pressed against the door.
 
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''TAP TAP TAP TAP...''
 
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Up the ramp...
 
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''BONK BONK BONK''
 
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On the door...
 
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''BLARR... BLUURGH... BLUB BLUB...''
 
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From a washed dwarf.
 
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A few minutes later the door-opening,door-closing lever puller pulled a lever, and soon the water had drained. The wooden door was opened for the soldiers to retrieve their new gear.
 
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----
 
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===A Tragic Tale of Love, Life, and Loss.<sup>DF</sup>===
 
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Well, not actually. But it is a tragic tale of loss.
 
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Names and a bunch of minor details made up for dramatic effect. I lost this fortress in a computer crash so I can't look up what they actually were anymore. Which is too bad, it was the first fortress I was doing right.
 
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Asmel sat at his favorite table, sipping at a bit of his favorite dwarven wine. The dining hall was empty that day, so once he was finally able to enjoy a bit of silence.  He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. This was a good day. Not that his life was terribly difficult. Most of the time he just sat around in the dining hall with all the other slackers, drinking. Asmel smiled. He was one of the luckier ones. When he had immigrated in not too long ago, there were already massive unemployment problems throughout the Violencewalls colony. Almost as soon as he had sat down in the nicely furnished dining hall, management was already plunking tons of unskilled labors into the army left and right, with the rest getting forced into building a worthless castle outside the fort. Asmel had lucked out. With a vaguely useful skill like brewing, he had managed to be overlooked by the higher-ups during the great job surge. But when all was said and done, there were still a bunch of dwarves who had nothing to do all day except haul the occasional doodad and drink. Asmel chuckled. Whatever faceless entities were running this fort sure were incompetent. Suddenly, a worried looking dwarf busted into the dining hall, interrupting Asmel mid-drink. Asmel looked up. It was Tulon, fellow idler whose main job was drinking ale, and who did a bit of furnace operating on the side.
 
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“Hey, did you hear the news?” The usually jovial Tulon inquired. Asmel set his drink down as a concerned expression spread across his face.
 
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“No, what’s up? Someone box himself in on the castle project again?”
 
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“No, man.  Something serious. You know Likot? The hunter?”  Likot was usually one of the busier dwarves, so Asmel wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with him. He recognized the name, however.
 
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“Yeah. What happened?”
 
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“Well, apparently he got himself killed.”
 
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“What? Seriously? How?”
 
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“That’s the thing. No one knows. He was returning from a successful hunt, when suddenly, bam! He died. We don’t know what happened, but it sure as hell ain’t natural.”
 
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“...Huh.”
 
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“Yeah. Well, anyways, the fellows up top want us to clean up. They think it’s safe now, and they’re ecstatic that they can keep us busy for a couple seconds. A bunch of the other haulers are ready to go. We’re waiting on you.”
 
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“Alright.” Asmel rose from his seat, stretching the kinks out of his system. Well, up until now it had been a good day. Contrary to it’s name, it was rare that anything bad happened around Fort Violencewalls. Even the most recent goblin invasions had turned out to be nothing more than an additional income source. Asmel followed Tulon up the stairs to the entrance of the fortress, where a bunch of the other usually jolly drinkers had assembled, somber expressions dominating their faces.
 
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“I found him, let’s go.” Said Tulon. The grave procession began their march through the lush forest, stepping over brambles and ducking under branches, keeping a careful watch on the dense woods around them.
 
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“So, where is the guy?” Asmel asked the nearest dwarf. It happened to be Fath, a calm and unmotivated wood burner who favored Dwarven Rum.
 
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“Down south near the river, I think. What do you think happened to him? Goblins or something?”
 
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“Naw, can’t be. The whole fort would be up in arms if it were. Thank God. If there’s one thing I hate it’s lugging some gobbo’s bloodsoaked boots halfway across the world because he didn’t have the decency to die at the castle gates.”
 
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“Then what? I mean that guy was pretty tough, right? I mean, he ''killed'' animals for a living.”
 
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“Hey, I don’t know. Maybe some cougar got the drop on him or something. Man, I hope it went quick. He was a good guy.”
 
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“…Yeah.” At that moment, a voice rang through the trees ahead.
 
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“Hey, I think I found him!” Asmel and Fath picked up the pace a bit, stepping out into a small clearing.
 
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“By Armok….” Asmel muttered to himself under his breath, taking in the grisly scene before him. Likot was lying in a crumpled heap of limbs face down on the banks of the river, mouth ajar with an expression of surprise on his face. Nearby sat the body of his most recent kill, an unlucky deer with several bolts stuck in it’s neck and body. The blood of the deer painted the nearby shrubbery red, while Likot’s own blood tainted the nearby river. Next to Likot were Tulon and Datan, an aspiring Judge of Intent who did a little farming on the side. Tulon had picked up Likot’s favorite iron crossbow and was examining it carefully for damage, while Datan crouched over the body, examining the wounds.
 
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“Gentlemen, dinner is served.” Datan joked, grimly. He turned the body over.
 
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“You’d better work on your comedian skills, buddy.” Fath replied. “At least he’s in one piece.” He added. “Well, shall we get started?”
 
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“Yeah, lets get this over with.” Asmel walked apprehensively over to the macabre figure. “I’ll take the cap.” Datan leaned in close, studying the appalling gashes closely.
 
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“Hey, you know, I think these are bi-“ He never finished the sentence. At that very moment, there was a splash of water, a spray of blood, and cry of pain. A slimy figure had leaped out of the water and latched onto Datan’s neck. There was a sickening crack as Datan’s neck gave way to the Sturgeon’s fearsome jaws. Asmel stumbled back, landing on his back and dropping the leather cap.
 
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“Son of a-!” He exclaimed. The sturgeon had flopped back into the water. Tulon leaped backwards, only to trip over an unfortunately placed root.
 
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“What the hell was thaAAAAH!” Asmel’s eyes darted to Tulon, just in time to see another sturgeon latch onto to Tulon’s leg. The sturgeon then started to drag Tulon into the murky depths below.  “OH GOD OH GOD HELP ME H-” Tulon’s cries turned to garbled splashes as his head slipped below the waters, his hands desperately grabbing at loose dirt. Asmel wildly felt the ground around him, looking for a weapon, or a handhold to pull himself away, or anything really. His hand felt the cold iron of the crossbow Tulon had dropped.
 
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“Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit….” His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He pulled the crossbow in closer, right when another sturgeon burst out of the water. Asmel realized he didn’t know how to work a crossbow, and tried to scramble away. He turned around to see Fath, scared stiff, watching the whole massacre in absolute fear. “Get the hell out of here, Fath! Get help fro-“ A sudden pain lanced through Asmel’s leg. Asmel’s gaze flicked around, only to see the sturgeon clinging to his left leg. This is it…he thought to himself.  The last thing he saw was another sturgeon lurching out of the water, flying towards his head….
 
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Sitting at my computer, I notice that that three of my civilian dwarves were struck down within 2 seconds by ''fish''. “What the ****.” I say to myself. Then I think, oh well. It’s just 3 haulers.
 
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===Kogan's Sacrifice<sup>DF</sup>===
 
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The digging was going along normally. Kogan and his fellow miners were mining near an aquifer. However, what they didn't know is that they had already found the aquifer. They drilled into the damp rock, hoping to get some more land for the farms that were progressing nicely. Water flooded out, and the miners were called back to build a wall. One miner had to stay to put down the last bricks. Kogan worked against the tide of the water, cutting off the flow, to realize that he was on the wrong side of the wall. Kogan gave his life for the fortress of Waningink, and his sacrifice was commemorated with a simple monument, consisting of parallel bauxite bridges, to be adorned with platinum statues, as a commemoration of the sacrifice of the dwarf who had saved the fortress at a cost that should never have had to been paid.
 
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As a side note, Waningink has had five deaths. Two executions (water towers), three dwarves sealing themselves on the wrong side of water-related structures.
 
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----
 
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===The Cursed Child<sup>DF</sup>===
 
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The sleepy Dwarven hamlet of BellSwelters was in downtime, waiting out a bitter winter, when Feb Libashudar finally bore her child.  News travels fast in a small fortress, and within minutes everyone was awake;  a wild celebration was thrown at the well.  Feb, having had a touch too much to drink, staggered beside the well, losing her grip.
 
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−
This was an <i>underground</i> well, dipping into a sunken pool carved out of the living rock.  A clever contrivance of gears, gates, and weighted pushrods kept it full but not brimming, fed from the river above.  Moments after little baby Momuz' plunge, already astonished partygoers witnessed the waterfall suddenly erupt with hitherto unknown fury;  caught in some vital cog, little Momuz took all of Bellswelters with him beneath the icy winter waters.
 
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----
 
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===The Hidden Tower<sup>DF</sup>===
 
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There was once a small, but thriving fortress dug out under a mountain, which was at the edge of a vast mountain range. There was a forest at the north of the mountain, a brook on the west, a volcano on the southwest, a chasm on the southeast, and mountains on all other sides.
 
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The fortress grew slowly in size, but very quickly in wealth, as they were surrounded by precious metals and gems. There was so of this that when the miners had just begun to dig they struck gold. Once the Dwarven caravan had returned to the Mountainhomes, bearing golden crafts and platinum statues, they brought news of an outpost with immense wealth. The news spread like wildfire, and soon almost the whole world knew about it.
 
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−
However, as always, the news reached the wrong ears. Goblin and Kobold thieves and ambushers came soon, eager to steal the riches. The fortress was still small in terms of population, but their military was made up of grim, determined dwarves who fought bravely. The outpost managed to repel all attacks with minimal loss. Their population grew very fast since migrants arrived in huge numbers.
 
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−
Soon, the mayor sent some miners on an expedition to the far ends of the area to find more ores and gems. He also wanted a supply of magma for a smelter. The miners dug faithfully, but forgot to block the tunnels they dug, and soon chasm creatures flooded the fortress. Meanwhile, the fortress lost a couple of good miners at the volcano, but they managed to channel magma to the fortress. Along with the magma came Fire Imps, Fire Men and Magma Men, rapidly killing dwarves. To cap it all, the Goblins sent a huge siege party to the fortress.
 
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−
The mayor consulted the Captain of the Guards, who told him that even if they managed to drive away the critters, the goblins would finish them off. However, he had an idea. The miners were sent for an extremely important, and classified mission. They dug out a temporary room for the dwarves, under the mountain. The nobles were quickly rushed in, followed by the civilians with the food, drink and all other items they took. The military tried their best and drove away most of the chasm creatures. The Captain, after beheading the last troglodyte, rushed the army into the room. The miners, meanwhile, dug a tunnel from the brook to the room, providing a water supply. Finally, the best mason built a wall to block the pathway, just as the lava creatures arrived.
 
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−
The Goblins were surprised to find the fortress totally devoid of dwarves. As they explored the fortress, it seemed as if it was devoid of treasure too. Then the lava critters burst in. There was a fast and furious battle between the Goblins and the Fire Imps. The Goblins managed to drive them back to the magma forge, a heroic feat, when even more Magma Men and Fire Men emerged from the lava. The Goblins sent a few messengers to nearby towers, just before they were all burnt to crisps. Soon, chasm creatures spouted out of the tunnels, and joined forces with the Magma Men to battle more Goblins who arrived. In short, there began an endless battle between the goblins and the creatures of the region.
 
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−
Unbeknownst to the other beings in the outpost, the mountain was almost entirely excavated. In the centre was a vast tower, made of gold, silver and platinum. There were hundreds of brilliant statues and engravings. The dwarves were thriving. Without the caravans to bring them food (since most dwarven civilisations had wiped them off the map), they relied on farming and herding for food, cloth and drink. They also mined extensively, with tunnels reaching to various corners of the area. Their tower was like a wonderland for dwarves, with ponds, statue gardens, zoos and artificial waterfalls.
 
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−
The dwarves of the Hidden Tower, as they called themselves, survived for decades in that tower, entirely self-sustainable. However, they did not realise that a few adventurers had driven out the goblins, and the dwarves had begun populating it again. They managed to tame the wild creatures. However, they too were surprised to find strange tunnels criss-crossing the earth, more surprised to find very little stone remaining. They were also blocked out from a certain mountain by what were certainly dwarven-made walls. Alas, if the hidden dwarves had chosen to reveal themselves, they would have survived what was coming for them....
 
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−
A couple of centuries later, when there was but 1 dwarf alive that remembered life before the escape to the tower, a terrible famine struck the fortress. The main reason was that a dwarf went strange and started screaming for glass. Since there was no means of making it (the only thing the fort lacked was a supply of sand) the dwarf went berserk. The fortress's mayor had not planned any assault on its citizens so there was no military at all. The miners were the only dwarves who carried any weapons. Most unfortunately, the crazy dwarf was a ''legendary'' miner.
 
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−
The fortress was mainly focused on food production, so it's population of almost 500 would be sustained. The majority of the working class was working in a few rooms in farms, farmer's workshops, kitchens, stills, butcher's shops and fisheries. Fisherdwarves also fished in channelled streams from the brook and the underground river. The berserk dwarf rampaged through the food workshops, and slaughtered most of the poor workers.
 
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−
The mayor immediately called for the miners to subdue the berserk dwarf. Meanwhile, the dwarf in question worked his way to the farms. There was a renovation project going on in the farms, and there were many farmers there. There were also some plant processors making cloth and food. The miner ravaged through most of the workshop workers, before a brave farmer tried to wrestle with him. The farmer was killed almost instantly, but he enticed a few more farmers to try to grab the berserk dwarf. After a few minutes, the pick was pulled out of his hand.
 
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−
The crazy dwarf was soon killed by the miners, but the damage was done. Almost all the food workshop workers were dead, and the rest were injured to some degree. Altogether 79 dwarves were killed. The smell of dwarf blood hung in the air for weeks after that. All the remaining ~400 dwarves attended a mass funeral, but many dwarves were unable to handle the loss of so many friends and went mad.
 
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−
After all that, about 300 sane (but still unhappy) dwarves remained. All the dwarves were put into the food industry. Though there were loads of dwarves producing food, it was still not enough since the majority of the workers were unskilled, and unable to work fast enough.
 
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−
The fort had huge hordes of animals kept in cages, so when butchered they produced enough food for the population. However, the fort entered a 'drink crisis' since the brewers were too slow. Within a few months, more and more dwarves became unhappy, and unhappier, and finally succumbed to madness. A few just starved to death, and caused more unhappiness. Others went berserk, and killed even more dwarves, causing EVEN more unhappiness. The beautiful tower did not look that beautiful any more, what with bloodstains and mad dwarves at every corner.
 
−
 
 
−
When the population of sane dwarves reached just 100, it was obvious that the fortress was going to collapse. Kogan, the old miner who was the only dwarf who lived before the construction of the tower, was not too happy about this, as he had seen the tower grow all the way. He and his apprentice Mafol secretly went out to mine in the tunnels one evening, but instead of going to the appropriate digging site. They were trying to dig their way out. They managed to dig all the way up and, braving daylight after centuries, threw up promptly.
 
−
 
 
−
Both dwarves had a severe case of cave adaptation. Thanks to this, they were temporarily stunned, and did not notice the approach of a ferocious dragon above them. By luck, the dragon did not notice them either, and flew straight to meet the new dwarves at the fort.
 
−
 
 
−
At night, when the sky was dark, the two dwarves went out exploring. They marvelled at the trees, the grass and the beautiful fresh air. While doing this they reached the new settlement in the area. The dragon was, at that point, frying some dwarves inside the fort. Kogan and Mafol were not educated about dragons and went in unknowingly. After killing all the new dwarves, the dragon was peacefully resting on its hoard, when the two miners stumbled in.
 
−
 
 
−
The dragon was quite intelligent, and knew from the start that the 2 were not from the fort he just depopulated. They were richly garbed with silk clothes and their picks were set with diamonds. With a burst of flame the two miners were transformed into a pile of ash on the ground. However, the sighting of the 2 dwarves caused the dragon to ponder....
 
−
 
 
−
The dragon immediately set off to find out where the mysterious miners came from. He found the staircase and went down to find a new tower, full of more dwarves to eat! The apperance of the dragon caused the already poor morale of the dwarves to break. All the dwarves were killed that night, and thus ended the lives of the Dwarves of the Hidden Tower.
 
−
 
 
−
===The Hammer of Madness===
 
−
In a fortress unnamed, deep under the mountain in a narrow, forgotten hall dense with wood smoke, a dwarf on the edge of madness worked slowly, almost mechanically as if controlled by some outside force, but with great mastery.  Hands twitchy as marionettes smote pig iron again and again, while the light of the furnace's glow caught in his eyes menacingly.  Over all this came the unending chant of 'Müzuak, Müzuak'.  Occasionally dwarves would come and watch, always at a distance.  What strange force had possessed their metalsmith?
 
−
 
 
−
The form finally cast, the metalsmith began to carve a pattern of enormous intricacy for many days.  Blinking and bleary, our metalsmith finally returned to his senses, exhausted and starving, to find he had made Müzuak, 'Fungusmurder', a pig-iron toy hammer of legendary qualities, carved with an engraving of itself...  carved with an engraving of itself...  carved with an engraving of itself...  Peering through a curiously curved chip of crystal, he found <em>still</em> smaller hammers with smaller ones yet carved on them, curving off farther than dwarven eyes could see.
 
−
 
 
−
Why would alien forces possess their metalsmith and force him to create <em>this?</em>  No one knew.  There was nothing to do but inter the artifact in their deeply guarded, polished-walled, double-doored Museum alongside the Coal Amulet of Terrifying Engravings and the Glittering Mechanism of Solid Gold.
 
−
 
 
−
Two months later, the dwarven caravan offered them a pair of socks, embroidered on which was a toy hammer, containing a yet smaller toy hammer, containing a yet smaller toy hammer, as finely rendered as cloth and needle permits.  Below it in dwarven runes read 'Fungusmurder'.  There had been no contact whatsoever with the dwarven homeland until this day.  They had always grumbled at their masters, as dwarves are wont to do, but never before had they suspected the Dwarfhome itself had allied with fey forces...
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===He just won't let it go<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
My marksdwarf shot my armoursmith in the leg while practising, after he recovered the dwarf was possesed and made an artifiact....
 
−
 
 
−
"Leghurt the copper leggings" it was called.
 
−
 
 
−
"On this item is the image of a dwarf and a dwarf in copper. The dwarf is shooting the dwarf."
 
−
 
 
−
I love this game...
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===Kogan Mossbeard enters a fell mood...<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
One of my best craftdwarf has been hammered to death due to an impossible mandate from the nobles. His wife was very unhappy for a week before it finally happened.
 
−
 
 
−
''Kogan Mossbeard looses a roaring laughter, fell and terrible!''
 
−
 
 
−
Before my eyes I could see the guilty noble being dragged to the butchery shop, screaming bloody murder before her axe chopped his head off.
 
−
 
 
−
''Urist Pansypants has been struck down''
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
=== Turns out he was playing in the whip vine flour this entire time!<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
 
 
−
After a caravan of tree-huggers left, I noticed two additions to my unit list: a tame hedgehog and a tame blackbird. Turns out those cages were so cheap because they had some pet vermin in them! I shrugged, ordered the well-decorated cages be built into the sheriff's office to add a spark of life to the room, and asked if anydwarf wanted to adopt them. My clothier quickly adopted the hedgehog, but the bird has been singing his song in his gilded cage for over a year now. Anyway....
 
−
 
 
−
I noticed about two seasons ago that the hedgehog was no longer in his cage. I couldn't zoom to him anywhere. We made a cursory search and then forgot about him.
 
−
 
 
−
Today, I went to go find my woodworker to ask about those new barrels, and it turns out he's in the pantry. Told me he was busy Small Creature Caging. I follow him out of curiosity, as he lops back to the sheriff's office and deposits the hedgehog back in his cage!
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
=== The psychotic dwarf who could (swim)<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
 
 
−
Long long ago, back in the early ages of the world, there was a modest fortress known as Mournriddle the Mortified Armored Beetles of Angels. Now, it is simply known as Mournriddle. After it's founding in 210, it quickly grew in prosperity. One day, a certain Mebzuth Inkpuzzled had a wonderful idea for armor. Alas! The steel and iron brought to the fortress from caravans had ran out just a week ago when the very same dwarf created a wonderful variety of sheilds and chainmail. Mournriddle's leader was somewhat inexperienced, and a bit of a packrat, so it only occured to him later to melt down iron goods, and by then it was too late.
 
−
 
 
−
Inkpuzzled finally snapped, and started babbling everywhere. He eventually jumped into a small lake after nearly fully stripping himself of all clothing. He began to drown, and everyone wrote him off as dead. But then, something amazing happened. He learned to swim! He quickly became tougher and a better swimmer, and even falling asleep in the water could not prevent him from breathing! A year and a half later, after reaching grand master rank in swimming.
 
−
 
 
−
At least that's what the official records say. Adventurers who travelled to Mournriddle years after it's downfall at the hands of a massive siege said that, even after clearing out all of the goblins who had claimed the fortress as their own, they still heard the faint paddling of a dwarf, swimming for all eternity to seek solace from his own insanity.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===Urdim's blowgun<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
:<font style="color:yellow; background-color:black">Urdim Kutamèrith, Pump Operator, has created Rakusttenshed, a Glumprong blowgun!</font>
 
−
 
 
−
Urdim, you are a freaking idiot.
 
−
 
 
−
===The Shellfish Diet<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
The peasant ònul âtastïeb of Fortress Creaturechamber suddenly abandoned his hauling duties, kicked a mason out of his shop, and screamed for shells, eyes shining with a wild and frightening light.  Most other times he'd be walled and locked in, but he'd picked the glassmaking level, crowded with skilled glassmakers and magma-rich, no room for barriers between the wall-to-wall workshops.  They'd have to tear down his shop to wall it and that was deemed too risky, ònul was clearly unstable enough already...
 
−
 
 
−
Frantically digging through the food stockpiles, all their chef could find was a barrel of mussels in brine that'd sat untouched for three years running.  Nobody wanted them before;  nobody would even dare, now.  Even after every other scrap of food in the fortress was expressly forbidden, nobody would touch them.  Some folks began to starve.  Others turned to a mysterious black-market supply of illicit dog meat...  Time went on.
 
−
 
 
−
After a few days of waiting with bated breath, the mayor put the entire military on duty, marched them to their quarters, and locked them in with the barrel.  After much yelling and screaming and trying to batter down the doors, the soldiers were forced to relent, prying off the lid and beginning their dubious meal.
 
−
 
 
−
Too little, too late.  Mad shrieking was heard by the glass furnaces as the peasant gave up hope, funneling his fury on the fortress that had failed him, chasing terrified glassmakers in circles around the magma pipe.  A war dog sprung to the attack to be instantly thrown down with mad strength, broken.  Glassdwarves darted past and down a staircase while ònul, unseeing, continued to thrash the poor creature;  looking up, the next and last thing he saw was Sodel Esdorsodel, the only soldier in the entire force not suffering from severe gastroenteritis, iron within and iron without.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===Any Cost<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
It was never known whether the cave-in was a freak accident, or a cruel product of design.  Whether Fate, Chance, or some mortal brought it about, it was Sibrek who suffered for it.  They hauled him to the barracks, his left leg broken, his right leg shaking and unsteady.  The whispers outside the barracks doors said that his leg would heal, but his spine wouldn't; he would never walk quite right again, if lucky.  It was possible he would never walk again.
 
−
 
 
−
Sibrek could hear them, and saw a grim future in store for him.  He was one of the first seven to found Agebolts, and he had not done anything of import.  He had dug, and that was all.  He would leave no legacy.
 
−
 
 
−
It was that night that the dream came to him.  Sibrek awoke from his bed, mind hazy in delirium and pain, and rose to his quaking feet.  The dream had burned an image into his eyes, the image of his last work, the legacy he would leave.  It was worth any cost.
 
−
 
 
−
The dwarves on night watch saw Sibrek stagger from the barracks, face contorted in agony, forcing himself across the grand hall to the mason's shop.  He only paused there momentarily, as if briefly collecting his thoughts, before limping to the stone stores beyond the fortress gates.
 
−
 
 
−
It took him hours to return with the stone blocks he needed.  The dwarves who witnessed his march say that the pain in his face was unbearable, that they could not turn away.  Those who offered help went unheard; Sibrek could not hear anything through the agony hammering through his legs, echoing through his spine like struck iron.
 
−
 
 
−
The stone returned, Sibrek set out again, to the risen sun and the stone piles.  It took him a day and a night to return with the stone he needed, well after the sun had risen again, and every second of his journey marked a drumbeat of pain, and a litany of resolve.  It was worth any cost.  Any cost.  Any cost.
 
−
 
 
−
The third time he emerged from the workshop, he could not make it more than ten dwarflengths before his body buckled from the pain.  For an hour he leaned against the wall, his sight blurred, but the image sharper and clearer in his mind, and the hammers drumming against his body.  Any cost.  Any cost.
 
−
 
 
−
On his fourth trek, he collapsed in the hallway, and lay there for two days.  The dwarves of Agebolts passed his body quietly, averting their eyes and quickly going about their business.  There was nothing they could do for him.  He probably wouldn't last much longer.  But later that night, the watch saw him rise to his feet, shaking, muttering... and advance.  Any cost.  Any cost.
 
−
 
 
−
He returned to the masonry a fourth time, and did not emerge.  For a week the sounds of work could be heard within, punctuated by periods of uncomfortable silence.  No dwarf would enter.  No dwarf wished to find Sibrek's body, sprawled across a work that he would never finish; the mere thought of witnessing such a tragedy was a terror of the soul that noone wished to bear.
 
−
 
 
−
After seven days, silence reigned in the crafthalls for many hours, and finally the mayor of Agebolts opened the door.  Sibrek's body lay against the workshop wall, contorted in final agony.  Before him lay his legacy - a table, etched in diorite, filigreed in realgar, inlaid in designs that defied worldly description.  It took some time before the mayor remembered Sibrek and stepped forward to carry him to his bed, for Sibrek's legs could no longer carry him.  On the way, Sibrek whispered into his ear before he finally lay still.
 
−
 
 
−
"Any cost." 
 
−
 
 
−
 
 
−
The newest citizens of Agebolts always come amid quiet acknowledgement and quick assignment of duties, but a few choose first to find their way to a small room of the fortress - an unassuming chamber of rough-hewn walls set apart from the fortress, and no furniture - none, except for the table of unsurpassed beauty, still as flawless as the day it was discovered in the mason's shop, next to Sibrek's crumpled body.
 
−
 
 
−
And Sibrek himself is sometimes there, when he is not working in the mines; his legs do not carry him as well as they should, but they carry him, and his pick-hand is the stuff of legends.  He has never spoken of his labors.  But when asked, he always has an answer, one that the young dwarves take to heart: that creation is worth any cost.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===The turtle shell Idol<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
There was a dwarf known as "Treehugger Bristlewhipped." He was called "Treehugger" for he was such a gentle and kind dwarf. Very generous and immodest.<br />
 
−
One day Treehugger was caught by a peculiar mood. He went into a craftdwarvshop and began bringing in various materials.. he worked like a mad man for several days and emerged with a turtleshell idol! It was called... "Treehugger Bristlewhipped."<br />
 
−
None of the dwarves knew what to say. The ones before Treehugger had produced ornate shields, high quality weapon racks and perfect jewels.<br /> ''Treehugger had made a self portrait.'' <br />
 
−
As if things weren't bad enough Treehugger explained the idol. He had encrusted it with Lace agate, decorated it with goblin bone and encircled it with bands of Lace agate. The idol menaced with spikes of turtle shell and carried the images of diamonds and many-pointed stars in iron.<br /><br />
 
−
Even to this day when a dwarf is asked WHERE the spikes and decorations were located they simply change the subject. Only in our dreams shall we know what this piece really looks like ... if you can remember it when you wake up screaming.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===The Story of Treatyflames<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
At last, we have arrived at the site of our new home, at the edge of the Forest of Calm in the shadow of the peaks of the Beak of Direction. I must admit, it's nothing like I was expecting from the information we received from the Becorrovod officials. The flowing water is little more than a brook, and the lush vegetation consists mainly of shrubs and bushes. Rather than a fertile valley, it appears to be a desolate gulch. Still, there is no turning back now, and we must make the best of what we have: two miners, one woodworker, three farmers, a bookkeeper, a dog, two oxen, an anvil, an axe, two picks, five seeds, and whatever food and ale we managed to avoid consuming on the journey through the wilderness.
 
−
 
 
−
...By Rimtar Katthirduthnur's ever-long beard, we are all going to die out here. I know it.
 
−
 
 
−
''Continued [[User:Dark_T_Zeratul/TreatyflamesPart1|here]].''
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===The first half year of Onulod<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
The fortress Onulod, known as Mirrortunneled amongst men, was founded early in the year 301 under the leadership of Sarvesh Gostmelbil. Seeking a vantage point to look for a good site to start, Sarvesh directed the expedition to one of the highest peaks in the local area. Unfortunately, at the top the wagon broke, the pieces tumbling into the abyss, though the dwarves managed to save all of their supplies. Still, the peak was hardly a suitable place to start the outpost. For one thing, merchants might have touble negotiating the peak, so Sarvesh's first order was for everybody to drag down all the supplies, 27 levels down, to a valley far below. Meanwhile she and the miner Kosoth began digging deep into the mountain, heading for the magma pipe of the local volcano.
 
−
 
 
−
No sooner had the settlers dragged down the supplies, and begun to get comfortable, than Sarvesh ordered them into action again. Everything was to be moved inside, through the long, long tunnel dug by him and Kosoth. Everybody grumbled, most of all Erith the craftsman who had just begun converting the bones and shells produced by hungry dwarves into fine wares in his new workshop. The workshop was torn down, and another built deep within the mountain. Everybody was busy, dragging goods, and establishing workshops and personal chambers deep within the mountains. Summer passed by without anybody noticing. Then the merchants from nearby dwarven Kivish Ziril arrived, and everybody was more busy. Barrels of foodstuffs, and most of Erith's first goods were still lying out in the rain, including an exceptionally crafted crown that Erith was quite proud of. During the chaos, a kobold snuck up to the tunnel opening of the settlement and stole Erith's crown lying just outside. Nobody saw the thief, except for the tracks left behind.
 
−
 
 
−
The merchants left again, and things simmered down to normal. Olon the Carpenter and Dodok the Mason were the only dwarves to have gotten their own rooms. Everybody else was still sleeping in a barrack, while Sarvesh pursued her dream of a dining hall with open access to the magma pipe. Erith was lying in bed in the barracks, listening to Catten the Farmer snoring next to him, fuming about his lost crown, his lack of proper quarters, all the indignities heaped upon him. And he snapped. He began trashing Catten, while only two beds away Sarvesh was lying in blissful sleep. Several rooms away, while chipping away a staircase to the future underground gardens, Kosoth heard the noise and grabbing her pick tight headed down to investigate.
 
−
 
 
−
She first saw Shem the Fisher, standing in the doorway, loudly complaining how it would be impossible to get any sleep with the current racket. Pushing Shem aside, she arrived just in time to see Erith mangling Catten's left leg with a mighty blow. Sarvesh was still sleeping only two beds away, cradling her beloved pick. Erith was a good friend of Kosoth's, but she recognized the maddened gleam in the craftman's eyes. She knew what had to be done, and with a heavy heart she charged Erith, battering him with the shaft of the pick. Erith turned his attention from the unconscious Catten to Kosoth, and maddened with rage tried to bring down his old friend as well. But if Kosoth knew anything, it was how to handle a pick. In short order she struck Erith down. Shaking, both from the emotions and excess adrenalin, Kosoth sat against the wall resting, watching as Shem came into the room, unceremoniously pushed Erith's still cooling corpse of the bed, and lay herself to sleep in the blood soaked linens.
 
−
 
 
−
After that Kosoth was a very depressed person. But she buried herself in her work. Digging out the new tombs was first order of business. Then she dedicated herself to completing the underground farms, digging with single minded purpose the long tunnel that would lead water from the local brook. Sometimes her pet cat would bring a small comfort, but her mood never lifted much. With Erith dead, and Catten bedridden, there were two less hands. Everybody was feeling the strain. And it was on this note that winter came around.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
 
 
−
 
 
−
===Did the elk damage his brain, or was he just stupid?<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
Urist was slightly confused. An order had come down from on high, requesting him to hunt some of the peaceful elk that roamed the region around the fortress. What bothered him, was that he had no experience with hunting animals, and there hadn't been an order to collect equipment, either.
 
−
Still, not one to go against the rules, Urist went out in search of some elk to punch to death. He spotted one, and began to chase it. At one point during the arduous trek, they were running alongside a river of lava. Urist felt woozy and unco-ordinated.
 
−
Eventually, Urist got the order to stop hunting, and took it, with great relief.
 
−
 
 
−
The basic story behind this, is I accidentally assign a mason or miner or somesuch to go mining. He has no equipment, so he decides to chase an elk, brandishing his bare fists. When I finally found him, he had yellow brain damage. The scariest bit is, I think he actually got a deer or two.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
===The Merciless Gears<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
The echos reverberated across the canyon as the cage trap slammed shut, bringing an early end to another snatcher's career. Within the fortress walls the dwarf Litast Castlebust found herself closest to the sprung trap. Being the civic minded dwarf that she was, she set off down the entryway to collect the prisoner.
 
−
 
 
−
Litast liked this entryway. As the chief architect and engineer of Clockworks, she knew its simple appearance hid a deadly secret. She had built those gears herself over many years. In all the kingdom of Kadol Dural, no fort possessed defenses like those of Clockworks. Where other forts built long entryways with many fortifications for the marksdwarves, this entryway was smooth and unbroken on all sides. No dwarves stood watch in here, and few patrolled the walls above. Contentedly, Litast continued into the dark center of the entryway.
 
−
 
 
−
Looking ahead she could see the bright square of light that marked the end of the passage into the wilderness. Then her eyes saw it, a blemish, a sneaking figure breaking the perfect contours of light there at the entrance to the fortress. <sub>*click*</sub> A menacing shape, too evil and stupid to care why the muddy tiles shifted so slightly under his feet. But Litast knew. Even before she was able to turn around and begin running she knew there was no time; the gears were already turning. <sub>*click*</sub> It was going to work just like she had planned it to. The gears were now lifting the drawbridges, sealing both ends of the entryway. Above her, a muffled sound like falling sand could be heard. <sup>*click*</sup> Behind her, a dagger slid from its scabbard. In the dark sealed chamber Litast ran to the end of the passage. Careful to take two steps to the left, she praying for enough breath to survive until Stage Three. <sup>*click*</sup> Stage Two was about to begin.
 
−
 
 
−
CLICK!!
 
−
 
 
−
 
 
−
-An account of how Litast Castlebust was nearly killed by the same automatic Drowning Chamber that she built.
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
==="A Touch Warm" Indeed<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
The butcher's shop area was well equipped to handle firey outbursts, but nobody thought to fireproof the shop itself!  It had been hastily thrown together years ago with wood from the wagon and forgotten for years.  Erkurmorul earned his new nickname, 'Ninja Chef', by gutting and cleaning two whole fire imps <i>during the fire</i> with no injury to himself whatsoever.  The fire consumed everything inside, ashes and all.  He was pleased with the lack of effort afterwards but the next one will be glass, 'self cleaning table' be damned.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
=== The Eventual Triumph<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
It had been several years since Cerol had received those life-changing injuries from the seemingly endless swarms of goblins that plagued the fortress every season. Now denied the use of her legs from a crippling blow to her spine, she put away her warhammer and turned to carving ammunition from the bones of her enemies. Not one to let tragedy get the best of her, she made her four children and husband proud by crawling around the fortress ''on her hands alone'', undaunted by the mountain of bones beside her workshop. Still, her refusal to remain bedridden took a toll on her mental state... as did the constant mockery of the fortress children. Every day, she told herself that her children and her work were all she needed, but another part of her would always whisper that she needed to prove herself to the fortress, as she couldn't on the battlefield so long ago. Every day, she shrugged off cruel laughter and worked at her bench, deriving a small satisfaction from every rotting goblin corpse. This is all the satisfaction I need, after all. No it isn't. But I have a family that loves me, and nothing is more fulfilling than that. No, there's something. I won't go down the same path that killed so many of my friends, when they let the voices take them over. I won't let it happen to me. But Cerol... How they laugh at us. Crawling about on your hands, nose in the dirt, head hung in shame, that's not how you want to be remembered. You were a warrior, but you hesitated and let the goblins take your legs away. Show your peers you are a force to be reckoned with, show them what they have made a laughingstock of, show them who you really are. Cerol's family were worried to find that she did not return home that day, nor that week, nor that month. Eyes glazed over, Cerol rarely left her workshop except to gather strange materials... she had an eerie ability to get impossibly heavy stones and metal bars from the deepest labyrinths of the fortress to her shop on the surface, all without the use of her legs. No longer speaking to anybody but herself, she worked day and night. One day, she returned home, not seeming to remember where she had been all summer, or even how she'd fed herself. The town treasurer walked into her workshop to find but a tiny ring sitting atop the bench. Upon closer examination, all around it was an intricately carved image of the battle where Cerol had been wounded, but rather than her downfall, it portrayed her menacing over hordes of cowering goblins, striking them down in spades with wide strokes of her deadly hammer. Artifacts tell of dwarven history, and generations after Cerol's eventual death, dwarves who had never met her remembered her as a great warrior, the bane of the goblin hordes. She was tall as a human, wielded her hammer mercilessly, and slayed hundreds of goblins before dying a glorious death in battle. Not a soul recalled the ridiculous cripple that children threw rocks at for fun, and her descendents all aspired to wield warhammers the way they knew their ancestor once had.
 
−
 
 
−
----
 
−
 
 
−
=== Endok Ageshmorul, The Guard's Finest<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
In the year 229, the goblins were mounting their usual siege. They had brought 3 battalions with them. The alarm was sounded for the Dwarves of Clutchtour to move inside for the duration of the siege. Marksdwarves were ordered to their stations and 2 squads of axe dwarves were readied to mop up the Goblin wounded. All others moved inside of the gate. Except for one member of the Fortress guard, axedwarf Endok Ageshmorul. For whatever reason, Endok stayed outside. Perhaps she had finally had enough of the sometimes bi-yearly sieges. Perhaps it was that she expected support from the Marksdwarves within the fortifications. Unfortunately for Endok, all 4 squads of Marksdwarves had failed to answer the call to battlestations. They had split themselves between sleep, food, and water all at the same time. Endok stared down the first battalion as it mounted the hill over the fortress and charged her, hoping to bowl her over and move on around the trenches and in to Clutchtour. Endok readied her axe and struck the first goblin to reach her, taking his head off in a single stroke. The goblins were awestruck by the opening blow and Endok begin to wade her way through them. She got another kill before they surrounded her, bisecting a goblin at the waist. Despite the superiority of numbers and the lack of Marksdwarf support, Endok carried the day. She struck down 5 more goblins. They struck a glancing blow, moderately damaging Endok's lower spine. The first battalion fled. Endok readier her axe for the second charge, glanced over the moat and saw the goblins were running. She had broken the siege by herself and earned her title 'Willful Obscurity of Basement' for her efforts to protect the underground fortress of Clutchtour.
 
−
 
 
−
=== Tekkudsherik, Pickperplex<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
My most proficient metalsmith is an odd dwarf. He is four times over legendary having mastered all skills related to the working of the metal he loved. Many a dwarf in a foreign land has marveled at the quality of the items from Cerol Nanirzas' forge. He is a dwarf who is hard to get along with. A tough, gruff, stubborn and insular dwarf. But what makes him odd persay.
 
−
 
 
−
This beefy fantastic dwarf is a "crazy cat lady."
 
−
 
 
−
He has been adopted by kittens that I am trying to slaughter seven times. And how can I refuse my best craftsdwarf when he says "Can I keep it?"
 
−
 
 
−
He currently is running around my magma forge working on grates with two cats in tow. Each of them has the remains of some kill in it's mouth and they are trying to leave a gift for their dwarf. But he's running around far to fast and the cats are doing laps in my forge. It's kinda funny to watch. Eventually, Cerol returns to his forge to find two lovely little rotting corpses on his anvil. Such nice kitties. It's why he loves them so.
 
−
 
 
−
 
 
−
=== Boo the Mighty<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
 
 
−
To the rest of Dwarven civilization in the Absolute World, he was known as Stray Cat (Tame). But to those lucky few who lived within the Echoing Candles, he was Boo the Mighty. His claws were sharpened daggers of ivory, his reflexes like lightning! Nary was the lizard, rat, or vermin who could set paw within the hold before Boo left them as so many rotting bones on the floor. Not content to settle in with a single dwarf as did his female counterpart, Boo wandered the hallways and stairways of the Echoing Candles, driving the pests of the world into near extinction and fear. So great was his prowess and effortless grace that he even scared a kobold thief in the middle of its works, sending the rogue scrambling into the newly opened tunnels that were soon to be the magma pipe to feed the forges of Echoing Candles.
 
−
 
 
−
Alas, for Boo, that the dwarves did not see the wicked creature nor Boo the Mighty, who persued it into the long but sealed magma tunnel. So ferocious was Boo that the Kobold, trembling, scrambled back from the dead end and ran towards the staircase so far away. Alas, then, for the Dwarves had already evacuated the tunnel and let flow the magma. Boo the Mighty chased the Kobold directly into the flaring, flowing lava, where the cretin was instantly immolated. Ah, but Boo would not die so easily! Though his rear legs were burned away and his tail naught but a charred stump, he dragged himself back towards the dead end of the tunnel. Though his pelt caught aflame and the smoke of his passing obscured the claustrophobic tunnels, he would not give up! It was all for naught, though, as the sole exit from the artificial magma tube was the very first victim of the magma's flow. And so, Boo the Mighty perished as brightly as he existed. But his legacy lives on, for within a cage at the highest point of the tower live twelve of his progency, ready to carry forth the name of their champion into the darkest corners of rat-infested stocks.
 
−
 
 
−
Long live the memory of Boo the Mighty.
 
−
 
 
−
=== The Emergency Protocol<sup>DF</sup> ===
 
−
 
 
−
Listen, new administrators - before you go, I must tell you the story of a fortress you wouldn't have heard of in your training. It was the greatest triumph, and the greatest failure. A fortress from which much may be learned, but which is never spoken off. Some fear to even name the fortress, lest memory of what happened there bring a curse upon us all. The administrator... he did terrible thing. Terrible, terrible things. Superstitious worry, though - you must hear of this, or you may make the mistake yourself.
 
−
 
 
−
There was a fortress by the name of Tradeddawn, famed in it's time - at a peak population of 170 dwarfs, each one an expert in their field, the industrial might depressed prices over half a continent. Goblins besieged the great Tradeddawn, but none were successful - for the ruler of Tradeddawn was the great engineer Vyl, master of the floodgate and the drawbridge. Under his defences the Hall of Levers - a construct who'se name now lives on in legend - could hold the fortress safe. The surface of the land was carved into parcels, walled or channeled off, each of which could be isolated by pulling the appropriate levers - any invaders would be swiftly isolated. Another lever would then cause their death - by Atom Smasher, by flood or by siege weapon.
 
−
 
 
−
But the people of Tradeddawn grew overconfident, for it seemed nothing could cause their fotress to fall. Even built into the hashest of territory, it's defences were unbreakable. It's luxurious accomodations kept all happy, it's elaborate water distribution kept all healthy, and it's food production could be self-sustaining indefinatly. Vyl had planned for everything, even building devices by which the entire lower level of mines could be flooded in the event of demonic incursion - or the lower two, or three, whatever would be needed.
 
−
 
 
−
In the end it was not goblins who caused Tradeddawn to fall. It was one dwarf, and one mistake. One tiny error that bought down the mighty fortress. A cook, who baked prodigiously - exausting every seed in the fortress. It took three months for the supplies to run out without farming, and the dwarves began to riot.
 
−
 
 
−
Perhaps if the dwarves had kept their heads, things would have gone differently - the animals could have been slaughtered for food, until a caravan bought the precious seeds. Fishing was still running. But as the mistake of the cook bought down the fortress, the mistakes of the others ruined it's first chance of recovery. In their riots they killed the hunters and the butchers, they tore down the butchers shops. Frenzied dwarves chased butchers even as they were carrying the meat which would have ended the crisis. At six months in, the 170 dwarves were down to 50 - all of them killed by their former friends.
 
−
 
 
−
Desperatly Vyl tried to hang on - he ordered the slaughter of animals, replaced the killed butchers and rebuilt their shops.
 
−
 
 
−
Growing desperate, he turned to a plan he hoped never to impliment - a lever he had hoped never to pull. Creeping into the room at night he pulled the great lever, a great switch onstructed of whitest marble. A marble hideing the blackness of its purpose - the lever emptied a cistern into the noble quarters. Tax collecter, the Baron Consort and Baroness, even the Hammerer - all were drowned in the wave of destruction. Murdered, because the fortress could risk the food to keep them alive.
 
−
 
 
−
Anything he could to last a little longer, waiting for the caravan and the salvation of Tradeddawn. But even this last hope, the occupents destroyed - they tore down the depo, and killed all architects and masons sent to rebuild it. The caravan was lost.
 
−
 
 
−
Sickened by the destruction his people had bought upon themselves - a mere thirty of them left alive, and those intent on killing each other - Vyl has but five levers to pull. Secret, terrible levers - the Five Levers now spoken of in hushed tones to scare children. The first caused the lower mine levels to flood, but without limiting pressure - a riseing water that would eventually fill the fortress. The second flooded the tradeing area, a measure intended as the last-ditch defence against trolls. The third overloaded the farming irrigation system, feeding yet more water into the fortress. The fourth opened the noble quarters, sending the water - and the decaying corpses of the nobles - washing into the central shafts. The fifth opened a spillway in the main aquaduct, washing water over the surface farms and down the sunlight holes.
 
−
 
 
−
Tradeddawn went underwater in the year 207, population 27. All of them drowned, as had their nobles. Dwarven men, women and children, slaughtered for their own lack of self-control. Vyl was never found - rumors abound of human settlements suddenly aquiring new irrigation systems, and of goblin towers seen with water pouring out their uppermost windows from hidden underground pumps. Evidence, perhaps, that he was able to flee and continues to practice his trade in secret. Perhaps this is why he commited such a crime, to cover all tracks and fool others into thinking him dead. Of the fortress, only a few holes remain - pools of water connecting to the submerged structure of what was once a mighty tradeing empire.
 
−
 
 
−
Dwarves don't like to talk about Tradeddawn. Remember it. Learn from it. Never let your last seeds go into the cooking pot.
 
−
 
 
−
===First Line of Defense<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
It was the seventh year of a fortress under inexperienced management when goblins besieged for the first time. The recently conscripted and under-trained military was nearly slaughtered. Soon a dwarf finally pulled the lever to close the drawbridge and lock out the goblins. In a desperate attempt to save the fortress the leader had the dwarfs carve out a twisting passageway and fill it with stone-fall and cage traps. When the work was done the few remaining military dwarfs guarded the end of the tunnel while one brave miner opened the hallway of traps to the outside and the goblins rushed in. The goblins were all slaughtered and miraculously no one else, not even the brave miner, was hurt. Needless to say the dwarfs agreed that the fortress needed a defense overhaul.
 
−
 
 
−
The new defenses were amazing. The drawbridge was rebuilt so that when it was closed it would open up a path into the fortress that would lead the invaders through a gauntlet of ballista, a dwarven atom smasher, and the original twisting hallway of traps. It was a beautifully designed system on par with the underground farming complex completed several years earlier. As terrible as the thought is, all of the engineers and siege operators were positively ecstatic to see how the system worked when the next siege came.
 
−
 
 
−
The sudden ambush came in the summer of the next year. As most of the dwarfs screamed and ran for the safety of the fortress the lead engineer smiled broadly and yelled "Pull the lever!" He stood just before the drawbridge and watched as the goblins ran towards the fortress. But the bridge wasn't raising. The engineer suddenly remembered, the new drawbridge never got hooked up the lever. The goblins weren't going to die in the labyrinth of traps and death, they were going to run straight into the fortress! Only thanks to the newly trained crossbow corps was the fortress saved, but at great cost. The moral of the story is never forget to link all you levers!
 
−
 
 
−
===The (Attempted) Rape of Webglaze<sup>DF</sup>===
 
−
 
 
−
Yeah, I know you're looking at me funny with a title like that.  Humies.
 
−
Rape means to carry off, to steal, to loot, capiche?  It's not like we want
 
−
dwarves for their BODIES, they don't even make good leather, much less
 
−
good ****toys.
 
−
 
 
−
Webglaze was on the outskirts of The Evils of Robustness.  Good strong
 
−
goblin name, good strong goblin kingdom.  They'd settled into the edge of
 
−
the mountain, started wasting their time on the sort of stupid shit
 
−
dwarves always waste their time on.  Work work work.  Stack objects
 
−
willynilly as if it actually mattered where an XX(Pig Tail Cap)XX with
 
−
dwarf blood spattering, blood spattering, and vomit spattering was.
 
−
Sell shit to the traders.  Humies are idiots, they'll do anything for a
 
−
narrow giant spider silk loincloth.  Probably worth more because they
 
−
like the fact it smells like goblin balls.
 
−
 
 
−
Young Amxu'd launched a raid on the fuckers.  That's Amxu Ukruaslot, the
 
−
wrestler, not old Axelord Amxu Stokgorukus Xudlubsnosstrosp.  He hadn't
 
−
come back, though nobody'd seen him get killed.  A bunch of dead dwarves,
 
−
a bunch of dead goblins.  All good, how else are we going to get a
 
−
reasonable amount of stuff?
 
−
 
 
−
There were a couple more raids, and the fuckers fought 'em off each time.
 
−
Big woop.  One of the survivors said he'd seen young Amxu in a cage, so old
 
−
Amxu went in to rescue him.  Yeah, stop looking at me like I'm crazy.  You
 
−
think elves are the only people with feelings, do you?  Bitch.  At least
 
−
Amxu didn't invade because he got his loincloth in a bunch about someone
 
−
cutting down his favorite larch or something.  Amxu went in.  Amxu wasn't
 
−
there when we got out.  That's old Amxu, that is.
 
−
 
 
−
But each time we'd invaded, the fuckers had taken heavy damage.  But there
 
−
wasn't enough time between raids to account for how they went from fifty
 
−
dwarves back up to seventy.  There were immigrants, and immigrant dwarves
 
−
can mean one thing and one thing only: Wealth.  There was something in that
 
−
maze of caverns that was worth risking their lives for.
 
−
 
 
−
Well, we decided to cut the small shit.  Thirty, forty?  Fuck that.  My
 
−
commander sent a full EIGHTY soldiers in.  Eighty.  One for each dwarf in
 
−
the fort.  Turns out we'd miscounted and there were only 78.  But we went
 
−
through them like cheese.  The Webglaze commanders paniced and activated
 
−
everyone, but it was like they never heard of squads or commanders - half
 
−
the soldiers were running across the surface to DRINK.  One guy I killed
 
−
begged me to let him live because he was a soap maker, not a soldier.  A
 
−
fucking soap maker.  These guys have never bothered to MAKE ANY SOAP.
 
−
Mad old Shorast, the mayor, thought to order them inside as our forces
 
−
marched to the entrance (which the fools had put RIGHT ON the border for
 
−
some reason.).
 
−
 
 
−
We charged across the drawbridge, but for some reason it didn't lift until
 
−
the whole troop was inside - I think the lever-puller must have been in the
 
−
other fort.  Good thing, too, because when I looked down I saw what the moat
 
−
was full of.  'Full' isn't quite the right word.  Depending on where I fell,
 
−
I might crack my head on granite - or splash into the lava.  Fuckers have
 
−
a lava moat.
 
−
 
 
−
Yeah, other fort.  What do you think that big rectangular wall up in the
 
−
mountains is all about?  The obsidian one surrounded by traps?  For some
 
−
reason Udim, he was the first leader they had - crazy bastard - had them
 
−
build two forts halfway across the map from each other.  I couldn't figure
 
−
why, but little Stukos told me the history of the place.  Said I had to
 
−
learn it good because her parents taught her, and now they were in a box,
 
−
and I was in a box too, and everyone would be in a box someday, and we should
 
−
take what we knew into the boxes.
 
−
 
 
−
She'd tell the mountain goat the same thing.  I don't think she was quite
 
−
right in the head.
 
−
 
 
−
Oh yeah, why were there two forts?  Well, Udim plonked everyone down in
 
−
the arable land first.  Dwarves like rock.  But they're also willing to
 
−
dig in the dirt.  So he set up a farm, instead of doing the sensible thing
 
−
and raiding the neighbours for stuff.  There were a couple pools there,
 
−
and they'd drink from them.  Well, until someone pissed in one or drowned
 
−
in one or got miasma in it or something.  So the fuckers were walking
 
−
halfway across the map to the brook every time they wanted a drink.
 
−
After the first couple of raids, he realized that that wasn't safe.
 
−
Hell, he couldn't even trade properly, because by the time he got back
 
−
the caravan was gone.  And you recall what I said about lava?  Well, crops
 
−
don't grow well in obsidian.  The dwarves were digging everywhere in Udim's
 
−
day, looking for magma.  They found it over to the northeast.  Right near
 
−
that brook the fuckers were so fixed on drinking from.  Took them a while
 
−
to get a channel ready and figure out how to put together screw pumps,
 
−
but they got it working.  Presto, magma moat.
 
−
 
 
−
The other party had made it to the obsidian fort - sure, a few of 'em got
 
−
stuck in the cages and deadfalls, but who cares?  Our Supreme Commander got
 
−
attacked by a bunch of elite hammerdwarves and thrown into the channel by
 
−
the obsidian fort - at least, that's his story as to how he got taken
 
−
prisoner.  Me, I think one of our guys gave a boot to his backside as they
 
−
marched over the second drawbridge.  Nobody liked him much - he didn't
 
−
succeed at anything, even making excuses as to why he'd failed.  And we'd
 
−
have noticed elite hammerdwarves.  Hell, we'd have noticed dwarves who
 
−
could find their own weapons.  And we didn't see any hammerdwarves as we
 
−
rampaged through the fortress.
 
−
 
 
−
We charged in, killing their pets, smashing the skulls of a couple stupid
 
−
kids trying to plant seeds while their parents ran hither and yon trying
 
−
to find their weapons.  We got into the second floor (that's DOWN, to you -
 
−
remember, these are dwarves) and smashed up their kitchen a bit, chased a
 
−
few down to the graveyard rooms.  Creepy.  More coffins than there were
 
−
dwarves in Webglaze when we attacked, and all but two of them claimed.
 
−
Well, we fixed that.  The group I was in ran into their barracks.  Nice