So... You want to hear a story, eh? One about legends? Haha, have I got a story for you! Helmsdeep... This is our home. But make no mistake - this is not a fortress of peace and love. They say it's a wasteland, that it's dangerous, that only a fool would search for something of value here. Then perhaps I am a fool. But do not be fooled by what Helmsdeep appears to be. There was a legend... Many people tell it. The legend of the Champion. My father would always go on about the Champion; even with his dying breath. Advanced fighting tactics. Infinite wealth. Fame. Power. Women. So you can understand why some little kiddos who hear the stories grow up to migrate to Helmsdeep. Well, I have a story you may not believe. But I tell you it is true. The legend of the Champion is real! And he is here in Helmsdeep. And a... let's call it a 'guardian angel,' appeared to guide the Champion to his victory. The tale begins right here Helmsdeep, with the brave Champion, the guardian angel and most importantly, me...
Our military was absolutely amazing. They were peasants and farmers before they were drafted into a makeshift militia to deal with some goblins. They were given all the copper armour and weapons we had, which wasn't much, but they smote down the enemy with ease.
The first squad of seven men were ordered to train nonstop in the barracks for three years. And for three years no threat came to our fortress, no goblins, no beasts, only happy caravans.
Until one day, an Ettin appeared on the map, hungering for our riches and our blood. It had two heads and a giant club. And for a moment I thought it was over. The squad had barely any new equipment. Aside from copper gloves and greaves, marksdwarves still had bone crossbows with bone bolts, and our dwarfs-at-arms still had the copper spears and swords from the first caravan 3 years ago.
The squad, The Creative Entries, was sent to fight the giant monster. It was bashing on our front door when The Entries engaged it from behind. The three marksdwarves began shooting at it just like they trained in the archery ranges. It didn't even have time to turn around its two ugly heads and look upon its demise. Soon, it's legs were shattered by countless sharpened bone bolts and it fell over. A hammerdwarf wielding the only bronze warhammer in the fortress hit it with ferocious determination on its head, which promptly exploded.
The beast was gone and meat and mead was shared amongst new tales in the dining hall.
The fortress was safe once more. But not for long.
You see, the death of the Ettin must have sparked some controversy in the monster world. Maybe it was because it died by a bunch of tiny men and women with bronze weapons and pig tail clothing, or because we dragged it to the underground refuse pile, leaving it to rot amongst dogs and hens and llamas and not bothering to even engrave a memorial slab in its name.
So whatever happened in the year between the Ettin attack and what would come next, it pissed off some of the historical creatures of this world.
Because the next uninvited guest was nothing more than a DRAGON!..
At that point a second squad was made to live and train deep underground near our strip mines. Because if we ever breached a cavern and would wake up a Forgotten Beast we would need that close-by squad. This squad, The Seals of Sensing was much smaller: only brandishing 5 farmers and potashmakers. Nevertheless they were given the old equipment the Entries used. Because by this time a caravan from the Mountainhome came and traded us some fine iron and steel weaponry and armour.
All squads were ordered up to the surface, stationed near the hidden exit door to fight the dragon. We all knew if that bastard came near our front gate, the fortress would burn. They needed to fight it in open field, where they can spread out and suffer minimal casualties.
It took quite a bit of time for the Seals to pack up food and water and move up the surface. By that time the dragon was almost touching the Trade Depot.....
Before it stepped into a wooden cage we had set up for goblins.
What!
The front drawbridge was lowered and a man dragged the dragon-in-a-cage to the Colliseum cage stockpile. But the Colliseum was designed for goblins and dwarves and elves to fight it out, not an enormous fire breathing dragon. So we needed to get rid of it outside the fortress.
We would release it in the middle of an open field that lay before the gates of Zonthol, Helmsdeep. It took forever to drag it all the way outside, and then to build a platform to pit it out from.
But when the time came, the military was stationed in a circle around the pit area, marksdwarves furthest away, least armored a bit closer, and steel armoured dwarves up front in melee range.
But now we needed some poor sod to drag a dragon-in-a-cage up a wall and then have it dropped down below. A mason, who thought his life was somewhat bland since he arrived in Helmsdeep, wanted to give it a go. Probably thought he'd be a hero. Well... goddamnit he was.
His name was Zasit Desisoltar and he built some fine floors in the first weeks of Helmsdeep. He dragged the cage up to the edge of the wall that was built in the field, and opened it. Instantly, he and some of the dwarfs-at-arms were shrouded in fire and smoke. In one move, the dragon clawed his arms off and his head last. He would be remembered in a glorious tomb deep underground. But the beast fell down and was engaged by twelve angry and vengeful dwarves.
The dragon breathed fire at them but the army was trained incredibly well and began shooting volley after volley of bone encrusted bone bolts into the beast's legs and chest, swords and spears and axes were thrust upon hardened scales. The dragon was furious and set the entire field alight but they knew how to move quickly out of the burning patches of grass. Not one dwarf caught fire and soon enough the broken and flailed legs of the dragon gave way and it fell down to the ground. It took several more blows to its scaly head with an iron axe, before Lokum Dakostīlun, the same dwarf whose hammer broke the Ettin, destroyed the dragon's thick skull and small brain.
Victory once again, but this time not without a cost...
Zasit Desisoltar was a very popular person in the mead halls of Helmsdeep, often cracking jokes and discussing ways to kill elves with his bare hands with the woodcrafters and farmers. Word of his death hit us hard.
We lost hope in the survival of this fortress. It was said Zasit was an indestructible dwarf, and his years of masonry made him hardened and his skin tough against all danger.. The only reconciliation we had was that he would be buried in a glorious tomb, with statues and masterful engravings of our history.
The military returned to their barracks and continued training.
Lokum Dakostīlun was named Captain of the Guard and Champion of Helmsdeep for his continued efforts for the survival of our people. He was given a splendid house adorned with decorated beds, cabinets and statues of himself.
He also was given the second artifact of the fortress:
Honestswayed the Fleshy Seas, a sheep wool trousers encrusted with pear cut black pyropes. On it is an image of Renownedcharmed the almond wood crutch(The first artifact) in sheep wool.
He also bestowed the name Shearflags the Judge of Fighting upon his bronze warhammer.
Life was good for the heroes of the fort. But for us common people, things were getting really sweaty.
Everyone was very unhappy. Nothing was enough to calm down our feelings. The death of the mason was almost like the death of a deity. It was unthinkable. Some people threw tantrums and assaulted others. This was reported to the hammerer, who dealt out the according punishment. Few were beaten, most were imprisoned for years or longer. My friend Id Zonstin was a peasant. He was locked up for 4 years, but when he should have been released he never came back. I later found his coffin in the catacombs.
Any one who met the iron gauntlet of the hammerer would need to be taken up in the hospital with broken bones and cut tissue. One of the marksdwarves of the Seals of Sensing threw a tantrum and attacked the baroness of Helmsdeep herself! He was killed by none other than Lokum Dakostīlun. He was purely dedicated to our protection.
After a while we decided that we should move on with our lives. Slowly everyone returned to their daily cycle.
But one day Helmsdeep would meet its biggest and most dangerous enemy in its entire history. No ettin or dragon could match up against the age old creature born in a time before time that made its way to Helmsdeep...
But we killed a dragon! What could pose a threat to us now? We could focus on exporting riches to the mountainhome and prove Helmsdeep a suitable location for our king and queen.
We have high quality beer, high quality mead, meat, plump helmets and bread and a legendary dining hall. A huge hallway with smooth gneiss floors and masterful engravings showing the construction of artifacts, the founding of Helmsdeep and the killing of the dragon.
Halfway through Hematite, when the river flourished with exotic fish, we were attacked again. Not by an ettin, not by a dragon, but an enormous roc. A flying beast that dwarfed many dragons. It came flying in from the west near the river. We later found three corpses of fishermen. The other two that were fishing there were never found. Both squads were ordered for full alert and they marched outside with spears and axes to search the beast and kill it.
It took forever before they returned that we thought it was over. But not soon enough the rhythmic marching of steel boots echoed once more in our halls.
The killer of the great beast this time was Ushrir Clinchcloister a legendary swordwielder. And heavy drinker haha!
The Creative Entries and the Seals of Sensing have proven they are a mighty and fearsome force. Even against the countless goblin attacks we endured. Soon enough there was no cause for alarm when the goblins attacked. We knew that we were protected by the finest dwarves in the realm! No more beasts came, only pathetic goblins. Hundreds of goblin bodies lay outside our gates rotting.
Helmsdeep was deemed safe and rich enough to be the new Mountainhome. The Queen and the royal court came here to live and rule the dwarven civilization of the Lone Tongs.
But soon after, things went very downhill.
Each goblin attack we defended against was no more than thirty goblins and trolls combined. But this time, now that we are the new Mountainhome, the forces of evil sent their biggest army yet. 350 Goblins, trolls, kobolds and humans were coming for our flesh and money. We didn't know there were so many. We didn't even know we were under attack at all. The forward scouter got an arrow between his eyes and could not warn us. Only until it was too late, until the trolls were bashing on our doors and the halls fell silent in fear, was the military called in. This time there was panic. And a lot. Dwarves crawled over eachother to get to the lower levels of the fort and barricade themselves in their room, in the mines, in the stockpiles.... It was all in vain. I ran outside, an outside I had not seen for 10 years. I knew we could not stop them this time. All of us thought the military was an indestructible force and could take on any army, but I knew the only engagements that were fought were like a cat fighting a rat. The soldiers equipped hardened steel and boiled leather. The goblins only had copper shreds of metal and rags of clothing. But this time it was different. The last thing I saw before I ran through the mines and out of the fort was twelve fully armoured dwarves stationed before the secondary exit ready to move outside. They had no idea.
I climbed ontop of the mountain we carved into and ran to the top. When I got there I hid in some bushes and looked back over the field. What I saw confirmed my greatest fear: a force we could not defeat has come for Helmsdeep. And they will take it.
The battle surprisingly lasted more than 2 hours. The newest recruits were the first to go. They did not have the reflexes to dodge bolts and sword slashes. The three oldest and best trained warriors: Lokum, Ushrir and Zulgar the speardwarf took down combined more than 60 goblins before retreating. Zulgar did not make it inside. He had the most goblin kills to his spear and was another legend in our lore.
Eventually the trolls broke down the drawbridge and the goblin masses flowed inside. I could only imagine the carnage that must have went on in our halls. I left the site of Helmsdeep. To return another day and see what has become of our Mountainhome.
---Half a year later---
I stayed in the nearby Human town of Oiledmirrors for 6 months before deciding to go back to Helmsdeep. I debated long with myself if I should return. It could still be a dangerous place, taken over by goblins and trolls and the like. But a dwarf could not die above ground, and I was not a young dwarf. I decided that if Helmsdeep would kill me, atleast I would die in or near my home.
I took the same path I took six months ago, through the forests and plains, to arrive once again at Helmsdeep. But no one was there. Not a single sound to be heard. The ruined drawbridge was removed and a new door was placed where the old great dacite door once stood. It was locked. But still no sign of goblins. The skeletons of dead goblins lay everywhere around the entrance and in the field. I decided I should try the secondary exit where the military usually exits through when they go out to fight. It wasn't locked. I entered cautiously and saw the barracks and jail of Helmsdeep. I never did see that in my years as civilian. It looked like a nice room. Except it was completely empty. No beds, no cages, no nothing. Just walls and the silence of cold stone. If I listened hard enough I thought I could hear the sounds of the soldiers practicing in there. I walked through the doorway to the main hall, expecting to see either tons of goblins or goblin corpses. But nothing. All the seats, tables, statues and lights were gone.
The main hall was the biggest room I had ever seen in my life. If you sat at one end of the tables, the dwarf at the other end could not hear you no matter how quiet it was or how hard you yelled. And now it was completely empty. And any time I took a step it made a freakishly loud echo. I was in a hall that was built to fit two hundred loud and drunk dwarves. And I was completely alone.
What was even more peculiar was that the grand staircase was caved in completely. There was no getting downstairs from here. I could have left now, to go back to Oiledmirrors never to return here. But I didn't. Instead I yelled. Asked if anyone was listening. A survivor, a goblin or a deity... Anyone.
I stood there in the great hall for what seemed like hours until suddenly the walls opened. A dwarf stepped out of the opening and ushered me inside quickly. Her name was Udil and she asked me what I was doing here. I explained to her I was once a gem cutter in this fort but she didn't believe me, so I told her all about our history: about Lokum and the dragon, about Zuglar and his spear 'The Blunt Craterous Den'. And about the fall of Helmsdeep. The goblin army that came for our lives. She began tearing up when I mentioned all these things to her. She also lived in Helmsdeep as a stone engraver and she told me everything that happened after the doors were broken down:
When Ushrir and Lokum came back from the battle, covered in blood and cuts and walking around the main hall the people knew it was lost. They scrambled downstairs where they thought there was safety.
The duke and the mayor had been working together with the stonemason to design a mechanism that would secure our survival if the fort would be breached. They built a collapsible roof above the grand staircase piled with rocks and boulders hauled from the mines. When most of the dwarves made it inside the lever activating the mechanism was pulled and the staircase was covered in rock.
About 30 dwarves were left upstairs, most were already imprisoned but some were trampled and knocked unconscious by the stampede.
At this point 160 or so dwarves were in the lower levels of the fort. The bedrooms, the catacombs, the forgeries and the mines. The mines were quickly shut down and blocked off in fear of an attack from underground. The worst thing however was that the food stockpile was on the upper level which was now blocked off. There still were some auxiliary food barrels down here, but nowhere enough for so many dwarves. It took 5 weeks for the food and booze to run out. A lot of food was reserved to sustain Lokum in the hospital. Soon enough people went crazy. They started throwing objects at other dwarves, who in turn got even more annoyed. A full brawl erupted as people bashed each other to death and began to eat each other. The sworddwarf Ushrir Clinchcloister went absolutely mad. He had an already fragile mind from seeing his comrades die in battle and the hunger and riots were the final straw. He snapped. He slashed the head off any dwarf who touched him in one strike. In the end he completely lost it. He killed everyone he saw. Man, woman, child. None were spared Ushrir's insanity. Lokum was being treated in the hospital, of which the doors were locked to prevent the masses from breaking in. After 5 days he was healed up enough that he could function normally again.
Udil was hiding in her room with her bed propped up against the door. For two days a dwarf kept banging on her door shouting that he 'wants to eat her flesh'. The shouts were interrupted by a loud bang and a POP. Lokum opened the door and rescued Udil. Nobody but Udil, Lokum and the insane Ushrir was alive at this point. Lokum said he had to kill Ushrir if he wanted to protect her and the survival of the fort. Udil watched from the staircase as Lokum charged upon Ushrir, his former squadmate. Ushrir struck first, but Lokum evaded the sharp steel sword and counterstruck with his legendary hammer. It was easily evaded. Ushrir slashed and stabbed with unknown ferocity but Lokum was trained and could parry or evade every attempt. Lokum found an opening at shattered Ushrir's legs in one fell swoop. He fell to the ground with his face hitting the stone and the battle seemed over.
Suddenly though, Ushrir regained his senses and aimed his sword at Lokum's unguarded knees. Both were now on the ground but Ushrir knew no pain anymore. He took Lokum's bronze warhammer and struck it down upon Lokum's head. Even with a steel helmet his skull was crushed and brainmatter exploded across the room. Udil quickly fled up the stairs.
She checked every day to see if Ushrir had starved to death. It took 3 weeks. After the death of Ushrir she was the only dwarf remaining in the fortress. The trolls could not move the heavy cinnabar rubble covering the stairs and the army retreated from Helmsdeep. But she never knew. She started cleaning up. Every body was sent down the lava chute near the smelters. Every piece of equipment, clothing, furniture was incinerated. Leaving only a bed, cooked dwarven meat and 200 engraved slabs.
Now I join her. It's 2 months later. The food is long gone. No sign of civilisation has yet come to Helmsdeep. We are doomed to die here. Just like the 200 dwarves we once talked with, laughed with and worked with.
You wanted to hear a story? Well this was my story.
Death catches up to us all.
**These events have all actually happened in my fort**
DISCLAIMER: Some elements may be exaggerated
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Topic: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk) (Read 87825 times)