(Guess this ended up a little longer than I intended. For clarification, Khronium is a modded-in metal, very valuable and useful for all sorts of things. Mattocks are personal as well, a two-handed version of a pick.)
An Account of the Destruction of the Brave Miners and Masons sent to Begin Construction on the Dwarven Fortress of Hammermanor
Set down by Ducim Aransodel,
As told by Rigoth Ownsalve, only survivor of The Strong Door
I will waste no time. I must put this to stone before I forget any, for the brave souls who died in the wilderness deserve their due remembrance. Nearly six years ago at the onset of spring thaw, our great Queen Litast Thimshurlorbam sent forth a group of hardy masons and miners to begin the delving of a great stronghold for the Kingdom. Years before, contact had ceased with the northern continent, and our great fear was that the last dwarven clans of the north had been wiped out with their allies, the human Empire of Mastering. If this was so, it would not be long before the Orcish hordes swept down to trouble us in the south, and we were already burdened by wars with the many goblin tribes of our own mountains.
Taking for themselves the name of The Strong Door, those first seven dwarves were tasked with carving the greatest defensive holding that the world had yet seen out of the living rock. With aid from the other free peoples of the south, the dwarves of the Folded Rim would hold that fortress for all time against the numberless savages of the north. I lay down the rest of this tale as it came to me, spoken in an eerily calm and monotone voice.
"The endeavor started well. In the beginning of the year 876, we dwarves of the Strong Door stuck the earth in the cliffs above the Murky Lands, and began the delving of Hammormanor. When we arrived, we found many precious metals besides, as well as a vein of Khronium, the crystalized blood of the earth itself. It was smelted down and tithed to the Mountain Home as soon as we received them a dwarf capable of the work. For three years they worked industriously. Because the armies of the Folded Rim and those of our allies were so burdened with our wars, scant defense could be spared for The Strong Door. We kept a low profile, felling few trees and inhabiting the turf within a nearby hill so as to keep our dwelling hidden. All for naught.
It was the kobolds at first. They were little trouble to us themselves, but they have ears and eyes that are all-too keen. Things began to go missing from the camp, empty as it was during the day when most of us were out carving away the entrance to the fortress. It was gold against lead that the kobolds had found us. Normally it would not be alarming - if there is something to steal, they'll find it sooner or later - but we could not afford the notice. Kobolds sometimes treat with goblins, or at least captured and interrogated by 'em. One way or another, knowledge of our dwelling would get out.
We did what we could. From amongst any new workers sent by the Queen we began to build a soldiery. We could not arm them with much, but they trained hard. They braved the rain and snow, standing guard at all times, and ne'er once did they mutter. Solid as the finest stone, every one of them, Irlom rest their souls.
The first attack came suddenly, from the cliffs. I was there with my brothers under the rock, four of us in all. The soldiery were all down below, guarding the masons. Six goblins set against four dwarves who had never hefted a right weapon in their lives. But a mattock makes for a fine weapon after all, and goblin-flesh yields more easily than stone. We charged those green bastards. I took an arrow in me thigh and stumbled hard. The others fared better, and threw the shattered corpses from the clifftop. Gave the masons quite a fright it did.
My wound was not serious, and by the time the next attack came I was again with me fellows. They came in greater number, and with more cunning this time. Two attacks they sent, telling us well and truly that they'd found our home. One group came for the cliff, the other knocked on the front door of our little hall.
Two dwarves died that day, a lad who had only just picked up a crossbow in our defense, and the captain of our little force, a grizzled veteran who practically slept with his sword. Though they put paid to many of the foe between 'em, it was a bitter loss to the Strong Door. Still, it seemed to scare the goblins off. We saw nothing of them for an entire year. More kobolds came, most were slain with naught to show for their trouble.
The first sign of renewed trouble was also disturbing news for the entire South. A band of orcs - and not just the raider sort, but warrior orcs crudely clad in mighty slabs of iron - swept in. Our soldiers saw them far off, and we had little choice as to our actions. We brought everything inside, hid the entrance as best we could, locked the door, and waited. Every so often we'd send Astil - a fine crossbowman, he now led our little army - to take a look around. For three seasons he came back and reported that the orcs were still there.
Orcs don't like to wait around. They aren't the sort to siege - they don't usual need to. Ain't many things in the world that can keep an orc out of where it wants to go, save death. That means these orcs had been set here. Only goblins would think to do that, and it also explained why none of those blighters were about - they may treat with 'em, but goblins fear orcs more'n anything save their dread demon overlords.
Still, we waited them out. As soon as the hulking brutes had left, bored and unblooded, we sent a message to the Queen. There were orcs in the south, almost certainly at the behest of our mortal enemies. It would be wise to warn our allies. Once the orcs found unspoiled foes to be fought, the hordes would follow soon after. It made our work all the more important - the dwarves needed a focal point for the new wars to come.
The orcs were only the beginning. No doubt angered that their manipulation of the orcs had resulted in nothing, the goblins came for us with renewed fervor. I can only hope the numbers they sent at us helped alleviate the pressure on our soldiers elsewhere. We fended off the first wave, but lost many of our number. We stuck close to the hall after that, and only came out to trade and request help from allies. There was no help to send. All sides were persecuting the war as fervently as they were able, hoping to win some breathing room.
Before the orcs came, and we would be hard pressed to remain breathing at all. We redoubled our efforts. Hammormanor was the only hope for the southern peoples. We could not fail.
The green bastards knew it too. Again and again they came, and we lost a couple more people each time. The usual dwarven response to such assaults was not an option. We could not just lock the doors and wait, not when there was such important work to continue. We took up the finest defensive position we could - inside the very halls of the unfinished fortress. It mattered not.
The final attack came in the night, a moonless ill-fated night. The birds and the crickets went silent scarce moments before the first cruel arrow flew from the darkness. We sounded the alarm and got everyone inside, and our entire army - all five dwarves of it - was roused from bed and post. We miners pitched in as well, but there were only three of us left. Fierce Morul fell to an earlier ambush, near a year before. He had accounted for as many enemies as some seasoned military veterans.
I took my mattock and came to the fight. It had been a long day hewing rock in the tunnels and the entrance - the front gate was our main priority at the time - but weariness left me. Twice, thrice goblins thought to take me as easy prey - no sword or spear in my hands, they thought me no more formidable than a farmer. I left each of their skulls battered in and moved on.
I came to the main hall - such as it was - and it was mayhem. Goblins dashing to and fro after children and civilians. Many lay dead of both. In a rage I roared and charged the first green son of a tentacle-demon I saw. I don't know how many I slew, though I place the number, without boasting, at six. Then a pain took me short and I dropped me weapon - a goblin had put his spear right through my leg from behind. A second thrust was about to take me in the eye when another miner came up behind it and throttled the thing, snapping its neck like a twig. Seeing my wound, he took hold of me and dragged me to the bedchambers. I grabbed my mattock as we went, not able to stand.
He told me to rest easy, that we were chasing them off. Even then I was sure he was lying. I heard the *click* as he locked the chamber door behind him, and pain drove me to unconsciousness with the sounds of battle still ringing down the tunnels.
I awoke much later, hungry and dehydrated. In my fevered forgetfulness I remembered nothing of what had happened, thinking the horrendous thoughts of carnage a mere dream. All torches had burned out and I stumbled to the door in perfect darkness. Upon finding it locked, memory slammed into me like a charging elephant.
I sat there on the floor for ages, it seemed. Numb. Silence around me. I know not how long I had slept. My leg was still in great pain, though I could stand now. Finally I rose and unlocked the door. All was silent and dark without. I followed the way to the well by rote, stumbling upon soft objects often in the dark. The floor was often damp and sticky. I hardly noticed. Or perhaps I put it out of my mind, to guard my sanity.
I ate and drank in the black, moving by memory. No sound ever came to my ear. When I finally found the strength to leave, it was another moonless night. Irlom must have been guarding my sanity personally."
It is here that Rigoth fell back to unconsciousness. I took him from the creek where I had found him and returned to the Mountainhome. I will go now and present myself before the Queen to request that I be amongst those sent to retake the incompleted Hammormanor. By the god Irlom the Ever-Young whom both Rigoth and I adore, we must return and finish the work of the dead.