Just a little story I wrote up after the fall of my last fortress. Currently going back to the same area (new region created, as I don't enjoy reclaims) so I'll hopefully manage things a little better next time! Story is in the style of a legend being told long after the events.
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The Legend of Nanakith
Long, long ago; long before the birth of our venerable and ancient fortress, dwarves still scoured the world for the opportunity to build new Mountainhomes. We were a prideful, fearless and adventurous lot back then. Oh, that is not to say we aren't a hardy, brave and powerful race still, but in those days we would think nothing of reckless acts, thinking only of the glory to come.
In the early centuries after the creation of our world, many fortresses were established, and many more fell, either from foolishness or from greed. Most became crumbing ruins without earning any renown in the wider world. Indeed, still now Dwarven archaeologists uncover the remains of small, unnamed fortresses scattered across the land. But one fortress is remembered; not for the great architecture, although the plans were grand, nor for the marvellous wealth or discoveries they amassed, albeit artifacts from their workshops are still traded for now. This fortress became known for the sake of one dwarf. One male. One warrior.
Nanakith, The Untameable Wrath; Axelord of Zirililron.
Zirililron was a fine fortress, established in a promising patch of land. A mountain; a single perfect, natural pyramid, without flaws or additional peaks, rising from the flat earth before a wall of sheer cliffs. To the North, a river; never frozen due to the warm climate. To the South, an exposed volcanic shaft; offering easy and quick access to magma for the forges. Within just five short years Zirililron grew from the encampment of a mere seven dwarves to a fortress of almost eighty. Their architectural plans were not overambitious, but certainly made good use of the landscape. The fortress extended up through that singular peak; floor upon floor of nobles quarters, barracks, dining halls and offices. Towards the top, a single massive room on each floor, accessed by a spiralling walkway constructed up the side of the mountain. Below the mountain; massive halls of workshops and forges, fed with magma and in constant production; an expanding circle of fine bedrooms, tombs topped with statues to mark the death of fallen heroes, and a fine zoo filled with marvellous creatures captured both above and below ground.
Nanakith was one dwarf of this fine fortress. A mighty barrel of a dwarf, whose enormous muscles were stretched taut on his massive frame; a mass of red braids from his beard and hair fell across his chest and back like a halo of flame. His face was like thunder, thin-lipped and broad-nosed, with stern, dark eyes and a solid, massive jaw. They say he lived in a constant state of rage; that the military was the only career path the mayor of Zirililron dared assign him to. Nanakith made no friends, took no lovers and left no children to carry on his undoubtedly fine and powerful bloodline. It seemed he desired nothing more than violence and glory. What his original name was, no one now knows; what is known is that he earned his title; The Untameable Wrath, and rapidly rose in rank to Commander of the military.
Forty-nine kills are known to us, attributed to Nanakith; he is known to have defended Zirililron from three goblin ambushes, as well as inumerous incursions of beasts from below. But in 755, Nanakith truly earned his name. In the Spring of that year he single-handedly despatched the Forgotten Beast Xun; a giant monitor lizard with poisonous barbs. Nanakith suffered not a single injury or wound, killing the beast before the rest of his squad could catch up, armed only with the twin copper battleaxes he had chosen the day he was conscripted.
In the Autumn of that same year, poor planning and greed on the part of whatever fool was in charge of the fortress caused its downfall. Digging too deep, too quickly, and without proper planning for easily defended and closed access. Adamantine, that lustrous and feather-light metal, was found in abundance close to the magma sea. Digging through it, the miners became too eager, and a Hellish pit filled with abominations was let loose upon the fortress.
Nanakith and his squad were sent into the depths; the tunnel was walled up behind them. All knew they were being sent to their death, but Nanakith just smiled. For his sacrifice, he had been assigned a marvellous burial chamber filled with diamond-encrusted, gold furnishings and decorated with the bones of his slain enemies. He was given a glorious new set of adamantine armour, although he had refused a pair of adamantine axes in favour of his favourites; a battered pair of copper axes. As uncounted horrors rose from the pit, the entire squad was wiped out, save for Nanakith. He despatched four demons; four abominations, terrifying and dreadful creatures of flame and smoke and ash, in a matter of minutes. Again, Nanakith destroyed his enemies utterly without taking a single wound. In truth, we may never know how many demons Nanakith could have killed, had one treacherous wraith not flung him back into a magma pool, before awrithing, buzzing mass of the foul beasts plunged in after him.
It is said, although none can confirm the rumour, that Nanakith fought on, even as his body burned, wounding and perhaps killing even more demons before the heat took him. The fortress fell, unable to defend itself indefinitely against the coming horrors, but the engravers there were commissioned and filled an entire hall with Nanakith's tale before they fell.
Some say that Nanakith is unkillable; a demon of muscle and rage; a gift from Armok to defend all Dwarfkind from the demons in the deep. They say that Nanakith burns still in the magma depths, fighting endlessly and roaring in triumph, his battered copper battleaxes in hand, his adamantine armour gleaming, his braided mass of red hair billowing about him like a ball of fire. Whether that is true or not, I cannot say. But warriors throughout the land keep charms of copper axes about their necks, and whisper Nanakith's name before battle. Some do it to seek his strength; his spirit. Some in the hopes that they will die as mightily as he did. Some claim they are calling for Nanakith himself to rise up and aide them in battle. A very small number claim that he answered.
After all; what better to send to fight a demon, than another demon?
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Topic: The Legend of Nanakith - a little story I wrote last night (Read 946 times)