One of my best forts collasped into an orgy of crime and bloodlust. The start of the end started when I had an accident while making a cave in trap to trap an FB (I miscalulated the extent of the cave in dust and it 'sucked' half a dozen dwarves from a meeting zone I had set up on the lever to drop it.) Since everyone was a friend of a friend, the shit hit the fan very quickly and it took a while before I realized that my jail was full and my COTG was killing everybody. I even set up a few squads to patrol my fort to kill bersekers and ordered a quite a few more coffins. Someone also apparently dodged down one of my wells and into my 5-something cistern that I had set up viewing windows in (something I was quite proud of and ended up restricting it in fear of someone breaking down a window) and gotten stuck after finding the outer door of the emegency air-lock locked. I missed his 'Urist mcdumbass has starved in cistern airlock' during the genocide and the children chacing dwarves around with sharp objects.
I wrote this after a bit of reflection on what I did wrong (as I did set off the spiral with the classical q-a-P).
Fallen from the Shoulders of Giants,
The Prison of Soargold, 109, midsummer.
The obsidian halls of Soargold were stained in the blood of the infected and the inauspicious. Hidden in the dimly-lit corners the insane and miserable lurked with insatiable revenge or inner demons whispering sweet-nothings in the back of their minds. After the unfortunate cave-in accident last week, morale had hit rock bottom, to borrow a human axiom. Dwarves consider ‘slade-bottom’ to be the more appropriate proverb. The prison complex beneath the barracks was nearly full and the Captain of the Queen’s Guard, Ilral Erlinkikrost Fongbezùst, and his retained sworddwarves were kept busy detaining the more aggressive and putting to the sword those who openly assaulted their fellow dwarves and farm animals. There had already been several incidents where those working in the mines had reacted to insults or mockery with violent outbursts. Already the Master Smith ùshrir Ethramoltar had been killed in his cot, assumingly mistaken for another, hacked to death by a miner’s tool.
The population of just under 13 score dwarves had been reduced by 3 score and the crypts had already been expanded. The body of the human diplomat was rotting where it had been neglected in the Queen’s Throne Room, wedged between the pillars, after the Duke lost his temper. The Queen’s Guard had arrived moments later to find him kicking the removed head through two pillars.
Industry had ground to a halt; the furnaces were running on skeleton shifts after half their workers had been violent thrown several stories by poorly-planned mining operations or beaten to death for otherwise minor crimes. Although a few engravers, taking time out of their busy schedules of carving great murals of dairy products, had set up shop selling pre-death gravestones and coffins.
Even those retained into the service of the Queen and Duke had snapped after the last few months. A hammerdwarf by the name of Sarvesh Ledthak had been incarcerated after he reportedly used unjustifiable force during a training exercise, injuring a fellow dwarf in his squad. Locked beneath the barracks, the workload thrust on the Queen’s Guard caused them to neglect that Sarvesh Ledthak still had his armour and weapon when he was confined. And as the barracks was deserted with the Queen’s Guard rounding up trouble-makers and the other soldiers watching the gates, nobody but the insane heard the cadence of impacts resonating from the cell.
Then an insane roar shook the halls.
A marksdwarf, by the name of Dastot Kolalis and a recruit that had not proven herself by claiming a kill, answered the call and rushed into the prison. She ran along the cells and found the source of the noise. Opening the cell door, Sarvesh Ledthak rushed her and knocked her to the ground, raising his iron warhammer, a cruel and twisted weapon looted from the goblins, to strike a fatal blow, as his years of experience had taught him to. Dastot Kolalis squeezed the mechanism of her crossbow and the silver bolt buried itself in the enraged dwarf’s leg, piercing the steel leggings at such a close range. He howled in pain and brought the warhammer downwards; the flat surface shattering her femur and crimpling her.
The scuffle was heard not ignored through, half a dozen workers and craftdwarves had rushed around the corner only to be confronted with the prone form of Dastot Kolalis and the berserk Sarvesh Ledthak. He lashed out with the hooked beak of his warhammer, gutting the first and second dwarf, briefly ignoring Dastot Kolalis who was whimpering on the floor before striking her again, rupturing her internal organs and shattering her bones.
Suddenly the Captain of the Queen’s Guard materialized at the corner, his steel shortsword Egartitthal, the slayer of 76 notable kills, drawn and catching the flicker of light from the forgotten beast fat lamps.
Sarvesh Ledthak lunged in fury and Ilral Erlinkikrost sidestepped the charge and struck the dwarf’s back, sending him tumbling into the obsidian wall. Before Sarvesh Ledthak could recover, Ilral Erlinkikrost severed his arms and rammed his sword up into his ribcage. He twisted the blade and then drew it in a powerful strike across Sarvesh Ledthak neck, severing the head.
Having dealt with the threat, Ilral Erlinkikrost turned to Dastot Kolalis but she was already gone, bleed to death in a pool of her own blood.
As the rumours of these events spread, the general populace of Soargold protested the cruel and unusual punishments of their Queen and Duke. The Captain of the Queen’s Guard, Ilral Erlinkikrost, stood with his monarch to the last and gave the orders for the sealing of the inner fort and for the Queen’s Guard and the nobility to retreat into the Queen’s Quarters where they defended themselves against berserk children and crazed craftdwarves.
From the sealed halls of Soargold, a settlement founded in high hopes, only silence screams its horary shrills. The obsidian ramparts stood strong, unaffected by weathering but still stained with goblin and dwarf blood.
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Topic: Soargold - Fallen from the Shoulders of Giants (Read 693 times)