Hi guys! I've dabbled with DF for a bit here and there, but was continually frustrated with it (I'm a perfectionist). I set it aside for a while, but came back to it. With the help of my girlfriend I was able to learn more and I began to enjoy the game on a level I hadn't before. This story begins the chronicle of the first fortress where I lost, and had such fun losing I just had to go back and reclaim it! I also felt inspired to write this history as well. I don't have the names of the dwarves so I tried to be creative, please forgive me if its difficult to read ^^'
The Chronicles of Zuntīrķkthag, Anvilsqueezed
Part 1, A place to call home
Grab your pints and gather round dear friends, for I have a tale to tell! It is a story of adventure and exploration, vice and virtue, triumph and defeat. Yes dear friends I speak of that revered haven, Zuntīrķkthag. Known in the common tongue as Anvilsqueezed, the legend begins back in the year 200. Trader I had a dream, a vision. He looked out from his home in Babinlikot and dreamed of a fortress renowned for its steel and crafts. Trader I had often been told he had the potential to become mayor one day, but many others told him he had a long journey before him. All of a sudden Trader I was struck with inspiration. A long journey! he exclaimed, Of course, its so simple! I shall gather together the finest crew and we shall journey into the unknown and carve out a home for ourselves.
Trader I spoke to Mentor, seeking wisdom and advice in his endeavor. The knowledge he gained would serve him well. Mentor introduced Trader I to Hunter I, a dwarf of distinguished skills and long of beard. Together Trader I and Hunter the Marksdwarf gathered other individuals of great prowess. A simple dwarf from a small farm, Planter the Gatherer, brought along his astounding experience with plant and seed. The twins Miner the Mason and Miner the Mechanic signed on, eager to prove themselves to the world. It took some heavy persuading, but the crew was able to recruit Crafty McBonecarver of clan McBonecarver. Crafty had already achieved some reputation, and many were eager to see what marvels his hands would create. The crew was rounded out by the well liked Arvent Ironsmeltinglightning, or Axey Woodhater for short. Together this band of dwarves set off for destinations and fortunes unknown.
Through the land they journeyed, over mountain and across stream. Many a traveler they greeted on their trek, but ever onward they traveled till one day they arrived. The band had traveled through the night, pressed on by some unseen urgency. When the sky began to remove its veil of darkness, they knew that they had found home. The air was still crisp and fresh from the evening's chill and a certain majesty hung in the air. Crystals of dew began to sparkle as the sun crept above the lone mountain keeping watch over the valley, revealing a plain of trains and stone cut through by a steady river of dancing blue and silver. With breathless reverence Trader I spoke, Friends, our journey has reached its destination, yet it is not the end. There is fortune to be had, and our mark on history has only begun to be chiseled out. Here at the foot of our silent sentinel I proclaim this to be Zuntīrķkthag! Strike the earth! The others chorused their approval, and they eagerly set to the task of carving out their fortunes.
Zuntīrķkthag was a very appropriate name indeed. The surrounding lands contained large veins of flux and iron ensuring a hefty steel industry ready to be crafted, but there were other surprises to be had as well. Several clusters of platinum were bare to the sky, and several small clusters of gems had been discovered in short order. Each dwarf knew that in a few short years riches would be pouring from their mugs.
Things were going well. Stockpiles were designated, workshops constructed, quarters had been built, and they even had the beginnings of a great hall. Crafty's reputation had been well earned. In short order he managed to create an appreciable store of goods carved from rock and bone, both engraved with luxurious turtle shell. Trader I had ensured a good trading depot was ready in time for the first travelers from Babinlikot while Axey saw to it that the hearths of Zuntīrķkthag did not want for fuel. The twins had spent a great deal of energy over the months carving out their home, all the while awaiting the chance to mine the precious ore the flowed through the earth. Planter kept hearty meals of Plump Helmets on every dwarven plate, and Hunter kept the territory free of menacing critters and pesky kobolds.
Things began to pay off for the intrepid founds of Zuntīrķkthag with the arrival of the first traders from Babinlikot. Crafty's goods were well received, and enough had been produced to secure both an iron and a steel anvil along with meats and alcohol. When the traders departed for home they promised to tell others in hopes of strengthening Zuntīrķkthag further. The dwarves knew that they would see more people calling Zuntīrķkthag home, and they began to lay plans for other necessities. A still was the most urgent, for without alcohol its not really a dwarven life at all. Until the still was underway they needed an indoor well to keep throats from becoming parched.
Ah that well, that cursed well. Little did they know, but that well would be the doom of Zuntīrķkthag. Blinded by eagerness their confidence turned to arrogance. The well had been built and was ready for water, and the digging began in earnest. The cistern was ready, and while Miner the Mason went to dig out the final channel the others waited comfortably inside. Raising his pick high Miner the Mason began to tear out the earth separating water from well. Each blow was a discordant ring of victory, every strike a note of disaster. When the deed had been done Miner the Mason stood back and watched the water rush deep into the earth like a pack of hungry goblins unleashed on an elven caravan. The air hung silent, waiting for the inevitable.
Miner the Mason returned to the fort to find the floor awash with water. The well had become a demonic geyser, eagerly consuming the dry stone of the halls of Zuntīrķkthag. The deluge caught the unsuspecting dwarves by surprise. Trader I and Miner the Mason headed to the stairs, and freedom. The others made several futile attempts to wall up the flood, but their efforts were for naught. They sealed themselves in two of the bedrooms, trapped and helpless.
It was a tense moment. Friends lay trapped under the earth, and there was little to be done to save them. Before panic could set in, however, Miner was not about to let his companions die. He had seen the others head for their rooms before the rush of water cut them off. Miner the Mason grabbed his pick and set to work. He tunneled straight down, making crude ramps and stairs out of the soft earth. He drove himself onward, resisting fatigue in order to rescue the others from a cruel fate. His efforts paid off. His pick swung true, digging a way to the room of his brother Miner the Mechanic. The brothers spared little time for reunion as the lethal water bulged around the door frame. A cry was heard from through the wall, the other companions were still trapped! Several swings from the Miner twins bought freedom for the rest.
They surged up the stairs, the water snapping at their heels. When they reached the top there was a brief cry of joy as it became apparent that they had triumphed over nature once more! Yet the joy was short lived, for the founders of Zuntīrķkthag discovered that where there had been seven there was now six. It was quickly discovered that Hunter the Marksdwarf had not fled when the Miner's picks had tore through the wall into his room. Hunter had sustained grievous injuries that prevented him from moving from his bed. Surely he must have seen his own doom coming as he did not try to stop the others from escaping. Trader I, the twins, Crafty, Axey, and planter gathered around the now full opening where they had just escaped from, bowing their heads in silent memory to Hunter.
Things had taken a turn for the worst, yet Trader I still had some determination in him. Snapping out of his reverie he began to bring the other dwarves in line. At the base of Sentinel mountain they began to carve out a temporary home while they plotted a way to regain access to Zuntīrķkthag. At first it seemed as if there was a small glimmer of hope, but such was not their fate. All of the equipment, food, alcohol, crafts, and everything but what clothes were on their backs and weapons in their hands all lay buried in the watery tomb of Zuntīrķkthag. Attempts at scavenging began, but hope was to be crushed. A small band of goblins had chosen this time to sweep upon the founders of Zuntīrķkthag. A small raid valiantly fought off by the dwarves, but not without numerous wounds. Miner the Mechanic gave in to madness, dying as he attempted to attack Trader I. After him Planter passed on from his wounds. Darkness settled on the hearts of the others
Trader I felt a great sadness upon him. His dream of a great dwarven hall carved from rock and forged in steel was gone. The failure had cost him the lives of several friends, and had left several more doomed to starvation. He stood now at the river's edge, watching the dance and play of that which had claimed those closest to him. The sun dipped behind the horizon, turning the water black. He felt the world slip away. Before the dark waves enveloped him an epitaph escaped his lips, Cursed be Zuntīrķkthag. The darkness opened up to him, swallowed him, and took him down into forever. The sorrow of his heart began flowing through the waters, seeping into the land and casting a shadow over the land surrounding Zuntīrķkthag.
/part 1
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Topic: The Chronicles of Zuntīrķkthag [story/long] (Read 581 times)