Greetings unto his Grace, Duke of the Eastern Lands
From Priest Strongwall, dedicant of Ibel
Contained herein you will find our report on the first two years here at Umomsodel. All of this was written by a young woman who has been named our chronicler. She seems loyal, and is a solid worshipper of Dakas. Though I'd wished to find a follower of Ibel for the position, she was the most logical choice.
Things progress well, and you have my solemn word that we shall root out the evil of this land, and extend the power the great Dwarven kingdom of Mistem Emen!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am known as Rune, and in the winter of 1051 I became chronicler of the newest bastion of Dwarven power in frozen lands of the south. The seven who first broke earth here have named it Umomsodle, the Dark Shield. An appropriate name, as we border the western edge of a great haunted land.
It is to the founders of this fortress that all we have accomplished here so far was possible. When I arrived with the first settlers sent here from the mountainhomes, I felt a sense of awe. Standing tall and proud at the base of the foothills, we could see a tall dark tower of stone. It raises four stories above the frozen earth. A testimony to the dwarven capacity for labor, for what other race could accomplish so much in such a short period of time, and with so few to do the work?
The first to be sent here were Lord Blackstar, who manages this fortress. Priest Strongwall of Ibel, who designed the fortifications and did most of the work himself. Deepdelver, miner and mason, for whom we can all thank for our homes in strong bedrock. Forgesinger, mistress of the forge. Darkbolt, hunter and guard against the foul creatures of this land. Alder, woodworker and slayer of harpies. And Goodboots, stout farmer, cook, and brewer whose labors have kept us all well fed.
In their first year, they faced many challenges. From the very beginning, this land challenged them. First, sending a horde of monkeys to harass them as they struggled to make a home in the frozen ground. Darkbolt and the dogs, however, made short work of them, and it turned into a blessing. Fresh meat, and hides to make into bags.
Slowly they carved out a large storage chamber, and a farm to give Goodboots a place to work. As spring moved to summer, they dug deeper, and began to carve out the living quarters in the flint that makes up much of the living rock of the land. Forgesinger, meanwhile, smelt the ores they had brought, and forged many fine crafts to trade with the caravans of the mountainhomes. Later that summer, Darkbolt spotted Ogres wandering the southern hills, and they decided it would be wise to keep close to the tower they were building. Unlike monkeys, Ogres are not to be taken lightly.
As fall set in, and a few weeks before the caravans would arrive, they faced their first true test. A trio of harpies had spotted the tower, and swept down upon them as they started work on a curtain wall to surround the immediate area. Darkbolt struck one down, while two others chased Forgesinger off into the woods. Lord Blackstar and Alder gave chase, wrestling one the ground and hacking at it with their axes. Unfortunately, Alder was gauged by its claws and suffered a punctured lung. Forgesinger, now far from the safety of the tower but only being chased by a single harpy, turned on her assailant. Grabbing its leg, she managed to slam the creature into the ground. Stunned, it was helpless as she pummeled it to death. Alder’s work cutting timber had toughened him, and he survived his injuries, though he still has a wheeze to this day. His lung may never really recover.
The trade caravan showed up a few weeks later, and Forgesingers wares bought enough supplies to last the winter. Our caravan of immigrants arrived a few days later. With enough strong backs, we were able to help finish up the walls around the tower. We now have a secure fortress, with outer grounds for our kennels, butchery, and tanning vats. We also assigned a young dwarf to stand guard. He is now known as Sunbolt, and later that winter he proved his worth.
Once again, Ogres were spotted prowling the southern hills. This time, however, one of them grew bold and approached the front gate. It howled at us, and beat the ground with its fists as a challenge before charging forward. Sunbolt, who was training his marksmanship near the gate, ran forward to defend the fortress. His bolts struck it time and time again, slowing it down as our war dogs and beetles charged it in turn. It was knocked prone by their weight, and torn to pieces. We cannot be sure what actually killed the beast, but Sunbolt was given a toast that night for his efforts. And our war animals all got special treats for their bravery as well. The other Ogre, fearing for its life, fled back to the hills.
The remainder of the winter passed peacefully. Our miners were able to turn their attentions to exploration digs. We found obsidian, and copper. Our stonecrafters began work on swords and trade goods from obsidian. Forgesinger took up her hammer again, and we could all hear her singing the ancient forge songs as she hammered out new bolts, and finely wrought goods for the traders.
As the winter came to a close, we heard great shouts erupt from the mines. “All Praise Tobul! All Praise Tobul”. We rushed down to see what they had found. Pointing excitedly, Deepdelver brought out a hunk of yellowish ore. “Limonite!” He said with a broad grin. Praise Tobul indeed, we’ve struck Iron!
So ends the first year of The Dark Shield.
Author
Topic: The Chronicals of The Dark Shield (Read 3129 times)