From the journal of 'Tig' Sazirstukos - 24th Obsidian, 200
This is terrible! Oh, I'll be sure the dwarves in charge of expedition planning up at the mountainhomes hear about this one. That is, if I can stay alive long enough to get back in contact with them. I knew I should have turned right back around and gone back to the safety of the halls as soon as we saw the dead trees. The roads are safe...yeah right. As safe as a lone fisherdwarf charging a carp with only a tankard of rum and a syrup roast for weapons.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain who I - we - are, and what we're doing in this Armok-forsaken place. I am the leader of a small, 6-dwarf supply caravan carrying only some alcohol, food, wood, gems, and other supplies. We were sent to resupply the thriving fortress Kadôlumid Rab Anam, or Gemfall the Glow of Ages. It has been very prosperous since it was founded in 192, and there is talk that the King himself was considering making the long trek to the halls. Well, I'd strongly advise against it unless he's got a death wish.
I knew there was something wrong as soon as we found the dead trees. I turned to our mapkeeper, Atîs Kacothzuntîr, one of our two caravan guards, and asked if he was sure we were on the right path. He showed me the map, and we were. Since the dwarves back in the mountainhalls had convinced me that the route was safe("The trade caravans take it all the time!"), I made the decision to continue. I should have trusted that instinct, but I didn't. And now look where it's gotten me.
We had been traveling through these haunted lands for about a week when disaster struck. Mosus Ardeskeskal, an architect and an artist, noticed the shadow on the ground first. Something was above us. She's a dwarf with a good head on her shoulders, so she came to me first so as not to alarm the other dwarves. We decided to break for lunch, and while the dwarves were busy eating I was scanning the skies. I thought I caught a glimpse of a tiny black speck against the sun at one point, but I blinked and it was gone, so I didn't put much stock in it. But then, barely half an hour after we'd started off again, I heard an eerie scream from above.
I don't remember too clearly what happened after this. All I know is that something huge swooped down at us, letting out a bloodcurdling scream. Our two guards - Sarvesh Ódathel and Atîs - drew their swords and charged it as the rest of us scattered in all directions. I heard a shout, and turned just in time to see the winged monstrosity lifting off the ground with Atîs in its claws. "Die!" Sarvesh screamed, and leaped upon the back of the creature, swiping futily with her sword. And then they were gone.
The land was quiet. If it wasn't for the blood on the ground and and the shaky sobs of Ushat, and of course our missing guards, I wouldn't have thought that anything was wrong.
"What are we going to do now?" Zulban Athelôm, a smith, asked shakily.
"We need to rescue Sarvesh and Atîs!" Dumed Thobunib, a talented craftsdwarf, shouted. "They're in danger, probably dying! We need to kill that, that...that thing! And bring them back!"
"Ushat, please," Mosus said, putting her hand on Dumed's arm. "Calm down. Sarvesh and Atîs are good swordsdwarves, they've served in the palace guard for some time now. If anyone can defeat that monster, they can. We'd only be running to our own slaughter if we tried to follow them."
"But-" Dumed started to speak, but I interrupted.
"Mosus is right. Do you have any weapons?"
"No," he admitted.
"Right. Neither do I. If they can defeat that creature, they will come back and find us. If not, there's nothing you or I can do against it."
"Well then what will we do? Surely we won't go on without them!"
"Well," I said dryly. "Considering that our map flew off in Atîs' pocket, we'll have to wait here until they return." I noticed the looks of alarm among my companions. "Do you want to walk around in this haunted wasteland without a map? Neither do I. They'll be back, I know it. Now, we need to get underground and put up some basic defenses. I don't want to be caught out here come nightfall."
Armok help us, I hope they come back.
* * *
From the journal of 'Tig' Sazirstukos - 28th Obsidian, 200
My back is sore, and my arms are aching. Even the expensive iron picks that we were shipping to Kadôlumid Rab Anam are hard to swing. Now they're all dirty, the shine gone. But it doesn't matter now, because we're stuck here.
Sarvesh and Atîs came back today at noon, their armor and weapons gone and their clothes torn. We were so happy to see them back, but our joy was shortlived. As they told me the tale of how they escaped from the lair of their kidnapper and swam downstream to avoid detection, I slowly began to fear what I knew was coming.
"But what about the map? Please tell me you...oh Armok..." The look on their faces told me everything I needed to know.
"I'm sorry," Sarvesh said, her voice cracking. "I was running for my life. It must have fallen out, or gotten lost in the river."
"What are we going to do now?" Mosus asked.
"There's a slightly more habitable area to the south of here," Atîs said. "There's grass, and trees. And the stream, of course. We can settle in there for a while, live off of the supplies we have here until we can signal for help. Don't trade caravans use this route?"
"Can't see why they would," I said bitterly. "But yes, that is what they told me."
Atîs nodded. "One should come through in the fall. I think we can last three seasons, yes? We're all tough dwarves."
"Speak for yourself," Dumed said, glaring.
"Alright guys, calm down," I said, taking on my role as a mediator once again. "I think Atîs' idea is sensible. We can settle in there until the caravan comes through, and either copy their map or just ride along with them."
"Sounds like an adventure," Mosus said. "Only one thing left."
"What?" I said, confused.
"What will we call our encampment? We're dwarves, all of our homes no matter how small or short-lived need a name."
The suggestions started pouring in at once.
"How about the Rusty Bucket?"
"Nah, I like The Accidental Map."
"Torchbearing the Ancient!"
"Firehall of Fish!"
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Sure it does! It's a hall with fire, ya know, and it's got fishes in it! Makes perfect sense to me."
"The Terrible Wet Banks!"
"No, it's stupid. The Accidental Map makes much more sense."
"Wait, what was that?" I said, holding up my hands to stop the budding argument. The only thing dwarves love more than naming things is arguing about naming things.
"The Accidental Map?" Dumed said hopefully.
"No, what Sarvesh said. What was that again?"
"Angzakkathilgérig, The Terrible Wet Banks," she said with a grimace, holding up her wet clothes.
"I like it," I said. "It's very fitting. From now on, we will be known as the Terrible Wet Banks."
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Topic: [Succession] Angzakkathilgérig, the Terrible Wet Banks (Read 880 times)