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[Tyrving]

That's quite a little bit of luck, Anu! Here's to hoping that this doesn't end our noble bearded friends, as I am very much enjoying this story! You're a very good writer, and using the format of a play is just delightfully creative.

Fight, Dwarves of Sarekeshtan!

[Oneir]

If you weren't devoted to keeping the bridge down you could undermine the brook, set up a series of pumps and a flooding zone to greet the gobbos... but that's just me trying to get you to rhyme something with "Automated goblin death chamber."

[Anu Necunoscut]

Early Winter: 12th Moonstone, 1057.

(enter goblin spearmaster OSNUN, marskgoblin NAKO, MARKSGOBLINS; goblin axe lord TODE, HAMMERGOBLINS; goblin mace lord ARSTRUK, SWORDSGOBLINS)

NAKO:  Returned am I to war, whose toothy maw
  Mouths brothers, fathers; friends most dead and gone.
  The blood's been washed, the corpse-stench blown away,
  All stain of Zolak's charge the earth has lost.
  Yet in the gears and axles of this arm
  A blot, a dram of terror remembered, stays.
  The bodkin head which loosed my blood is here,
  New-quivered, fastened to a goblin bolt,
  That it might reach as swift and deep as hate!
 
OSNUN:  Zolak appears more foolish with this sight.
  That fortified and sheer-complected wall
  Did beg of him more valor than he brought.
  Spied you their preparations?  Speak, Nako.

NAKO:  Scarce seven bearded soldiers marched on us.
  Two cross-eyed catapults did fire at naught.
  The chiefest harm was wrought by foul Datan,
  and one of several pups they've trained for war.

OSNUN:  All's well.  Now lads, marksgoblins mine:

MARKSGOBLINS:                                       Hai sir!

OSNUN:  No foolish rush.  No feckless, screaming charge.
  Mark you your targets.  Shoot concertedly.
  By ranks approach, not severally.  Keep close.
  By order, discipline, we win the day.

TODE:  What mousy scholar's words are these, Osnun?
  Old top, you love too well your whitened hairs,
  Your war-gnawed hands, your ears of whorlèd green.
  These tactics are but pretense for thy fear.
  Straight in, direct, to kill's the soldier's way.
  Did not the Demon order so Himself?
 
ARSTRUK:  Aye.  Osnun, we are not to improvise,
  But carry out His vicious will exact.

NAKO: (Aside) And so we lose, and lost before.  Fie! Fie!
  By Demon's will inscrutable we're killed!
  Most general His pleasure in death seems,
  Demands both foes and servants sacrificed!

OSNUN:  Outranked you are, Tode; Arstruk.  But peace.
  As brothers we should meet this war's embrace.
  The spear hath taught me much of patience, tact.
  A careful, practiced strike goes not astray.

TODE:  Nor does the axehead's wide chaotic sweep!
  Its fearless, lusty, overweening strokes
  Relieve all contemplators of their heads.

ARSTRUK:  Aye.  Macehead's weight best governs mighty blows;
  The wrist must bow or break to its commands!
  Of forces natural, of mettle hot
  Are armies best directed to the fray.

NAKO: (Aside) Rank fools!  Most treacherous incompetence!

ARSTRUK:  What's that you say, thou freckled weakling grunt?

NAKO:  Nothing, so please you, Mace Lord Arstruk.

ARSTRUK:                                           Good.

OSNUN:  Enough.  Let our divisions be forgot.
  Keep you within the circle of our bolts,
  And rashness shan't steal victory away.

(exeunt)

[Anu Necunoscut]

Early Winter: 14th Moonstone, 1057.

(enter mayor DATAN; recruited clerk LIMUL [drinking], others)

DATAN:  O marvelous!  We're sieged so oft I'm brazed to it,
  Yet here I find a sight that's sparkling new!
  Thou clerk, didst find thy beard scarce-armored?  Ha?
  Dost saturate it now with barreled draughts?
  Methinks that such is not the "proof" you need!

LIMUL:  Let terror have its medicine, o please!
  A dram, a drop, a gigger?  Pity me!

DATAN:  All legendary dwarves are off to war,
  Yet you sit here and swill?  Needst numbers, thou?
  Take you the sum of wrath towards cowardice,
  Then add impatience, multiply by rage,
  And make division of thy bones by pick.
  What's the remainder?  Puddled clerkish blood.
  This forms my matrixed promise for thy pain,
  Shouldst thou wait here until the battle's end.

LIMUL:  'Tis in imaginary numbers still?
                                 (lowers barrel)
DATAN:  For now.

LIMUL:            Methinks my thirst has gone away.

DATAN:  Good lad.  Who says that math's impractical?

(exeunt)

[Anu Necunoscut]

Early Winter: 14th Moonstone, 1057.

(enter goblin spearmaster OSNUN; marksgoblin NAKO; MARKSGOBLINS; SWORDSGOBLINS)

OSNUN:  Hai Tode!  Check this rashness!  Keep you near!

NAKO:  He heeds you not.  Our axe lord is a fool.
  These random, chance-drawn heroes of our wars
  Are ever thus:  Their brains outweighed with brawn,
  Scarce-fanged, new-molted, bearing captain's badge
  By virtue of some freakish chain of luck.
  Such accidental leaders lack all wit,
  And see survival as their mark of skill
  When truly 'tis a tale of tumbled dice.
  O curse them, rot them, hang them by their ears!
  A grunt meets many, if proud fortune smiles,
  Yet should she wear a frown he'll know but one:
  The ape who leads him to a muddy grave.

OSNUN:  Nay then, we'll keep together.  March, my lads.
  A captain serves as compass to his ranks,
  And should that needle break 'neath bearded swarms,
  Directionless his troop will fly the field.
  A third of this brave army's therefore lost
  If Tode breathes his last upon the bridge.

[Anu Necunoscut]

Early Winter: 14th Moonstone, 1057.

(enter mayor DATAN; planter STODIR; clerk LIMUL; ENGRAVER; SOLDIERS; hammergoblin SNODUB [flying through the air]; hammergoblin NGOSO [fleeing and bleeding])

SNODUB:  Exploding gore erupts in vapored rust!
  My trunk and hammer take trajectory
  That better should have graced their stunted kind!
  O let the land on which I fall be cursed!
                                    (hits ground and dies)
STODIR:  The clerk makes mighty penstrokes on this day.

LIMUL:  All bookish dwarves know how to break a spine,
  'Twas clerking labor made these sinews strong.

DATAN:  Our stock records shall grow more weighty still--
  A crude and narrow iron shipment's in.
  If time be short, stop not to strip your kill;
  Crowd corpse and armor both in melting bin.

(ENGRAVER strikes NGOSO in the head; exit NGOSO, shrieking)

ENGRAVER:  Full tired am I of others' mighty deeds.
  Trace walls with strangers' heroism?  Pah!
  Methinks our newest dining hall looks bare:
  My feats today shall mural all its stone!

DATAN:  Thy face already murders appetite.
  It now o'erplasters near a dozen walls.

STODIR:  "A masterful rendition of a dwarf,
  The dwarf is engraving" times seven!  Ten!
  Has any dwarf marred our digestion more?
  Datan struck down an axe lord on the bridge,
  Yet of this day you'd carve yourself?

ENGRAVER:                                  Well, yes.

DATAN:  The standard for a masterpiece falls low.

LIMUL:  Be silent--look!  The rest make their retreat!

[Oneir]

I'm debating a "pen is mightier than the sword" pun, but I'm not sure how to make it grammatical when it's a clerk wielding as hammer.
As always, wowed by the poetic turn that the most random events in DF can take, given a push.

[Logical2u]

Love this story so much:

DATAN:  Thy face already murders appetite.
  It now o'erplasters near a dozen walls.

STODIR:  "A masterful rendition of a dwarf,
  The dwarf is engraving" times seven!  Ten!
  Has any dwarf marred our digestion more?
  Datan struck down an axe lord on the bridge,
  Yet of this day you'd carve yourself?

ENGRAVER:                                  Well, yes.

DATAN:  The standard for a masterpiece falls low.

So very, very true. Therefore awesome.

[Anu Necunoscut]

Early Winter: 16th Moonstone, 1057.

(enter goblin spear master OSNUN, marksgoblin NAKO, and MARKSGOBLINS [retreating])

OSNUN:  Again we're driven out from lands we owned.
  As pups we played upon these rocky cliffs,
  And knew by name all creatures of the vent.
  So Demon orders: "Fight! Reclaim! Drive out!"
  And finds us willing, malleable grist
  For war's gore-gilded grinders.

NAKO:                                       We survived,
  And shall return again, with doubled strength.
  Dim Tode's bound upon the rack of pride.
  The agony his hubris wrought seems meet,
  And earns no tears or wails from such as I.
  As for the loss, speak rather of revenge!
  Call curses down, and sneer at tragedy!

OSNUN:  These eyes have seen some hundred battles fought,
  Their rheum has known brave victory's perfume
  And tasted reeks of miasmal defeat.
  If they should water now, grudge not their leak.
 
NAKO:  Face pain as goblins do, and swear vengeance!

OSNUN:  Nay, first I'll feel it as a goblin should,
  And grieve for tall youths, wasted on this chance.

(exeunt)

[Anu Necunoscut]

I'm debating a "pen is mightier than the sword" pun, but I'm not sure how to make it grammatical when it's a clerk wielding as hammer.
As always, wowed by the poetic turn that the most random events in DF can take, given a push.

Thanks as always to those who commented, it's much appreciated.  As for the "push" to drama, I'm trying to isolate a unifying thread in the more or less randomized events that I can turn into an overarching plot.  It should be doable with a bit of finesse, especially once noble leadership arrives.  Based on their personalities/worship I'll try to pin down some greater direction for the fort and guide everything towards that.  Since a goblin tower is just one square out of the embark area and the group name is "the Crowded Rampart," it will probably be military-based, or tuned to goblin experimentation/provocation.  We'll have to wait and see!  I'm afraid an endless string of sieges will be too repetitive otherwise, although if the crossbow goblins hadn't fled the fort would probably have lost a sizable chunk of population.  Which would be fun.  :-D

[Anu Necunoscut]

(The Lay of Moshnunkasben)

Ye've called me here    to cast the tale
Of Nationlancers'    latest work.
"The Suicidal Tufts"    'tis hight,
"Moshnunkasben,"    in dwarf-tongues mouthed.

Edem was brewing    bravest draughts,
Our barrel swill,    our briny wines.
Upon her came,    by Zas's call
A mood most fey    forestalling all.

Her hands knew not    what skill they held,
Her mind knew not    what she might need,
Tall bins had not    all tools to build,
And loom lay silent    lacking silk.

A craftsdwarf shop    she claimed forthwith
With moody stalk,    all-menaced glide.
Of larch she took   some sev'ral logs
Took also jasper,    tigereyes.

Yet still nothing,    no start made she.
Her friends, bright beards,    bemoaned the loss
Of skill-wrought drinks,    sure hands at still.
The fort was wroth.    All wrung their beards.

Then Reg the Weaver    read the signs
And knew the cause,    the constant need.
"Cave spider silk,"    she named the lack
And ventured out    to search the vent.

A dog she took    well-trained in war
To guard her quest,    to quell all foes.
A wlll she took    which tamed her fear
To brave the wilds    to walk in risk.

Dark gnomes did boil    beside the vent
Yet blenched she not,    nor wavered she.
Bare mole dogs crawled    within the cave
Yet blenched she not,    nor wavered she.

A glist'ning strand,    one gummy thread,
She took anon,    and tarried not
But bolted back,    brought it to loom
And worked at speeds     that spurned all else.

Then Edem left    the bundled larch
And seized the cloth    of clinging silk.
She sifted raw    the refuse pile,
Brought out the house    all turtles build.

In furious work    her hands had found
The artist's skill    for artifact.
"The Suicidal Tufts"  'twas made
"Moshnunkasben,"    in dwarf-tongues mouthed.

[Anu Necunoscut]

(enter elf merchants ZEPAVE, ELANA, ILE, OSIME [traveling])

ZEPAVE:  Now follow close, and mind each rock and tree
  Lest they should hold some foe.

ELANA:                              Why come we here?
  No guards attend our string of haulèd goods
  And dwarves are enemies of all green life.

ZEPAVE:  Yet goblins also bear a greenish hue.
  Sarekeshtan makes reparation there.

ILE:  We bring them trees, felled each by nature's laws
  And not the sacrilege of biting axe,
  Yet mock and scoff is all we win for such.
  They hid as cowards in their fort, I'm told
  And left Rifa to greenskins' gnashing fangs.

ZEPAVE:  Not so.

OSIME:            'Tis true, Ile.  They sallied forth
  To save our kin, and lost four souls thereby.
  A debt we owe, and such elves always pay.

ILE:  And pay and pay!  In blood, in bone, with life!
  The acrid stink of furnaces wafts wide
  And fills all nostrils at their trading post.
  Think you so little of this blasphemy?
  No prayer give they for granddame willow trees,
  No rite or ceremony shall they make.

OSIME:  We're allies still, to fight the demon's thralls,
  And ne'er yet has elf deserted friend.

ILE:  No goblin ever made such massacre.
  In cleverness of butchery they're naught
  Against the hungry forges of the dwarves.

ZEPAVE:  Make silence, Ile--watch for reddened eyes,
  And strain thy ears for trampling iron's tread.

[EOTistatron]

This doesn't belong on second page.
Besides, I'm curious about the trading dialogues; looking forward to short jokes in meter.

[Anu Necunoscut]

Mid-Spring: 9th Slate, 1058.

(enter mayor DATAN; elf traders ZEPAVE, ELANA, ILE, OSIME)

ZEPAVE:  Halt Datan!  See our goods!  Offer some trade!

DATAN:  Take this under advisement, merchant elf,
  Or take it under pick: you've only cloth,
  And reams of rope-reed we already have.
  Of worth you've nothing; here's your nothing back.
  Pretend your ears are blunt and take the point.

ILE:  But this is all we have!

DATAN:                            Do I have eyes?
  Why yes, and yet you double their report.
  You may well be the clev'rest elf I've heard
  And that says nothing much for you, does it?

(ILE starts to speak)

DATAN:  Be stoppled, fool. I've wasted time enough.
  It hurts wise ears to hear what's obvious,
  And talking with the dull pays nothing else.
  Begone!  Depart!  Take leave within the hour,
  Take all thy worthless cloth within thy bins,
  And take my curse within thy silly heads.

(exit DATAN)

ILE:  I told you.

ZEPAVE:              I'd say rather you were told.

[rickvoid]

ILE:  I told you.

ZEPAVE:              I'd say rather you were told.

^ This = Win.

I'd forgotten how much I loved the reading of plays, if not so much the watching.