Hello, fine gentledwarves. I am the voice inside Colonel's head.
Let me introduce this expedition leader I'm with: short and stout like a teapot, ears like handles and a nose like a spout. I never could pronounce her name so I simply dubbed her Colonel and assigned her to the position of Master Chief in charge.
Now, all was going well, or so we thought. We had the map, we had the plans for a beautiful excavation site and modest fort inside a valley of three rivers and three mountains among some lush wilderness, along with our picks, our axes, plenty of supplies, and our good hearts. So the group set off and followed the Colonel.
Well waddya know, it turns out the stupid bitch had gotten
lost!
Instead of a delta of fertility, we had ended up on top of a snowy plateau. It's spring, and the place is
icy, dammit! Snow everywhere!
Regardless, the Colonel assumed she was right, and I can swear, had I been in possession of a foot and a boot, I'd have given a swift kick to
her delta of fertility so that her lineage stops right there and then! But waddya want. I'm just a disembodied presence who's only here to make sure things go right, so what gives?
See, the problem with the Colonel was that she was gifted with a cascading mass of blonde hair elves could only dream of. Now, as with all blondes, I wish I could say that her stubborn stupidity had been the result of her brain remaining at the same altitude as she had grown up, but I can't even afford that luxury, as she so happens to be flat-chested. Good for me! If I can't stop her lineage of idiocy, then her appearance will.
And to top it all, she'd named her new home
Prideloved The Towers of Beer.
I hated that name. I hated it!
So while I was brooding over the miserable failure this fortress is going to be, the gang dug down and began some modest installations. By the time the first caravan had arrived, we had a haphazard arrangement of unfinished walls in a mixed attempt to protect from goblins and to provide some sort of garden court.
Further inside, dug quickly into some clay loam, we set up workshops and beds for the first few and the immigrants, and the Colonel insisted on giving them all their own dinner tables and chairs. It was an astronomical endeavour - especially considering the trip from foodstores to table was worth one day's hearty jogging - but I chose not to complain. It was her decision.
As the years passed, I found that the place had only two seasons: Winter, and the 15th of Malachite. But that didn't deter the Colonel from her ever changing goals. As the flow of immigrants increased, she got the idea into her little golden head to explore the place as deep as it'll go in a massive digging project that spanned the entire immediate area:
See all this clean floor? That's over two dozen haulers working around the clock to place everything into the stockpiles! We have professional haulers for Oaf's sake!
And then, further up, is another project: the super-bedrooms. Smoothed, engraved, and fully furnished in as compact a form as possible. Whoever slept there became happy. Four engravers working day in and day out pumping out masterpieces faster than a Chinese rate of birth. By the time they had gotten to the fourth room, they were already masters in their craft!
So to keep them busy and happy, the Colonel assigned them to make her a massive bedroom, which they partially started before realizing that... it was going to be the Colonel's bedroom. Immediately, they quit their jobs. Every single one of 'em! Look at the mess they left behind:
Thankfully, they had had the time to de-clutter two rooms the Colonel had prepared for married couples. Problem is that we had more than just two married couples. Better luck next time!
So now, what to do with all that stone? This time, I stepped in. I told the Colonel to create a block fabric and assign eight men to the task. She listened to me, and look at the result. Perhaps we'll make a fine fortress after all!
They were just getting started on the stockpiles when the horns had sounded off the attack of a goblin raiding party. Lucky for us, the trading caravan was at the depot and was good enough to fend off the threats, leaving us with a single casualty who had gotten caught in the crossfire. No problem! He was stupid anyway.
The problem came from a second dwarf, unjured and on a bed, but no water and no bucket. I quickly find out the cause: the well had frozen! Solid! So much for trying to heal the wounded. On the upside, whenever he threw tantrums, he just hurt himself more and didn't dare destroy the bed we had put him on. He died in horrible agony, before the thawing of the well. Before the 15th of Malachite.
Before they knew it, the dwarves were discontent. The freezing of the river had rendered the moat useless. The food was getting scarce. Everyone was tired of making and hauling stone blocks all the time. But the worst was yet to come.
A goblin party came in through the back door completely unannounced. In the ensuing carnage, I gave the Colonel the bright idea of drafting everyone on the first floor. Thing said, thing done. All of a sudden, the dwarves turned on their opponents, one holding a gobling while another beat it to a bloody pulp. When all was said and done, we had gotten four deaths, free weapons, and we got to wear some goblin skulls for hats. Not bad!
Soon enough came in the elven caravan, which I was sure I'd never see again due to the Colonel's very bright plan of offering them a wooden bin first thing before even saying hello! Nobody was interested in strawberries, so we left the caravan at the door.
And that's where the next goblin party came in.
All of a sudden, everyone was interested in
free strawberries! Of course, the elves ate a bunch of bolts for breakfast and the animals scattered around the main court, but this time, the Colonel was prepared. She had ordered a wall to be built around the area and with a drawbridge as only access point. With the pull of a lever at the right moment, she'll just fling those goblins far, far away! It could not fail!
The bridge snapped in two.
The bridge snapped in two!Pow! One half went flying and spinning over the opposite wall and never to be seen again. All the goblins on that side simply fell to the pit below with barely a harm. On the other half... well, there had been no one. Just two crossbowgoblins on each side, pelting whoever tried to get out the front door.
And to make matters worse, it was the 15th of Malachite. The water was running free again. Cursed by out lack of luck, we couldn't even use the unfinished back door portion to go around the fort and take the goblins by surprise from behind. We were stuck!
Now, as the miserable, sick, hungry dwarves looked upon their Colonel, they saw something they hadn't noticed before. The Colonel was ugly, bitchy, crazy and stupid, but she was determined. Whatever had to happen, she wanted those goblins dead, for the pride and sake of all dwarves.
Without even waiting for the others, she rushed outside, screaming a war cry and jumping on the foe first seen with a crude log. Her captain of the guard, a new mother, flung her baby into a crossbowgoblin's face before joining into the fray.
The dwarves looked upon this spectable, and they understood what they had to do.
Solemnly, they drafted each other, and rushed outside. Forty-five dwarven wrestlers to take on a fully-armed goblin raiding party.
After all was said and done, down to but five and taking cover from the last surviving crossbowgoblin without a chance to escape, the dwarves picked up a nearby sword, and completed the suicide.
All that would be left on this forgotten plateau would be a few walls, a broken drawbridge, a victorious goblin, and a bunch of tombstones. But nobody would find it.
Nobody could get lost like my bitch.
The Colonel might have been a crazy bitch, but she was
my crazy bitch, and I loved her with all my soul.
After collecting myself, I set eyes upon the new dwarven expedition: a dream team consisting of Supaminah, Supachoppah, Supahuntah, Supamilkfarmah, Supakillfarmah, Supakillah, and Supaglassah. Their company: The Crystal-Crystal of Crystals. Their goal: found Gluttongloss, an underwater rapture, a glass fortress accessible only through the means of a simple well. They are so efficient that they've already harvested enough food to feed 200 of themselves in a single season, built a solid wall and defense mechanism, and gotten all the rooms prepared neatly and in full working order.
There will be fun. Oh yeah. There will be fun.
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Topic: Mini-Story - Priveloved, The Towers of Bitch (Read 1232 times)