What fun.
Splint updates so fast.
Speaking of updates...
Urist and Hans sat in Hans' tiny room. Hans was perched carefully on a tiny dacite chair, his massive body overshadowing the stone throne. Urist was sitting on the edge of Hans' bed, sipping from a garish orthoclase mug, filled with an even more garish drink. It was probably sewer brew at some point in time, but after a couple of Mr Frog's sedatives and several days fermenting in the dining hall, it was something entirely new. The two dwarves idly conversed about the weather, new work orders being posted around the fortress, and their new friends among the skulkers.
Lately, the only people Urist and Hans had spoken to were the skulkers. Their adventure with Vanya had taught them a newfound appreciation for the lowest class dwarves of the fortress. In addition to this, all of the higher class dwarves of Spearbreakers avoided Urist and Hans like the plague for their trail and attempted execution. Despite the pardon, most dwarves considered them both guilty of treason regardless.
So, Urist and Hans were in the tiny apartment-like chambers, drinking steadily and making idle chatter. This day, they were interrupted by a gentle tap-tap on Hans' door. They shared a significant glance, and waited for a moment. Thud-thud. The knock came harder this time, less polite.
Hans stood and swept the door open, surprising Feb the militia dwarf even though he'd been knocking at the door. Hans glared at the dwarf silently, sullenly. Feb stammered for a moment, then said, "You- Uh, you've been summoned by the overseer. By Baron Splint. He'd like to see you immediately."
Hans turned back to Urist, and Urist shrugged at him silently. Hans turned back to Feb and said, "Why?"
Feb shrugged at the imposing dwarf and said, "Why should I know? I'm just a messenger. He wants to see you right now, and that is all I know." Feb shrugged again, uncomfortably at Hans' unrelenting stare.
Hans nodded at Feb, and shut the door. He and Urist shared an amused look, then both gathered a few items and slipped out the back door, just to spite Feb.
They didn't speak on their way to Splint's rooms, instead sharing knowing looks. This summons had been expected, in light of the recent rash of goblin ambushes. It had been a few months since their adventures with Vanya, and nothing really had happened since then but these rapid fire ambushes. No attention from the goblins for a very long time, and now this. Urist had immediately realized something was up. Goblins didn't turn their attention to you for no reason. What with the undead having been vanquished so recently, Urist reckoned that the goblins thought they had a good chance at breaking Spearbreakers.
How wrong the goblins were. With the use of Mr Frog's combat simulator, the soldiers of Spearbreakers had tripled in skill in months instead of years. They wore steel and iron of the finest quality, not to mention how the most elite lords of the military wore the blessed adamantine.
Urist had also guessed that the goblins were ambushing the workers around Spearbreakers to weaken the fortress and scout out its defenses. His final assumption was that the overseer would summon the two most expendable soldiers in the fortress to scout the goblins back... Forcefully.
They entered Splint's mostly dirt-walled rooms. The floor was plated with dull gray metal, and there was a few tasteful statues and well made pieces of golden furniture. Splint was seated in one of the golden thrones, writing in his journal somewhat furiously. He looked up as they entered, and waved briefly at a pair of stone chairs in front of his desk.
Urist and Hans remained standing as he finished writing. Splint gave them a derisive glare as he closed his journal and set it aside, then pulled a sheaf of parchment papers out of his desk drawer. He spread them out neatly on his desk and tapped a couple of them in turn as he spoke, "As you two know from the alarm drums and what you may have learned from the rumor mill, we have been ambushed several times quite recently by the goblins. It is the belief of our senior military members that this is a precursor to something more serious." Splint looked at the two outcasts now, "This is where you come in. The last two attacks have come from the east, and the south-west. We tracked them to the edge of our patrol range, and we have a good idea where their logistics camps may be. We want you two to go to their camps, kill them all, and search for anything that might help us." Splint paused after he said this, and looked at them expectantly.
Hans had his usual blank look spread across his face, and Urist was stroking his beard thoughtfully. They stood like this for a very long time, making Splint incredibly angry. Finally, Urist broke the tense silence by saying, "What if we die and can't report back in?"
Splint was a bit taken aback by this, obviously prepared for different questions. He said, "I... I don't think it will be an issue. You are both well-equipped, extremely capable dwarves. I'm sure you will be fine."
Hans said, "What if it is just random goblin incursions?" He'd been carefully coached by Urist on how to say 'incursion' properly, for just this occasion.
Splint said, "Then you will finish them off before they can attack us any more. If that is the case, surely the camps won't be very large, less than forty apeice."
Urist sighed, and nodded at Splint, "Okay, we'll do it." Splint smiled and started to say something, when Urist interrupted him, "After you tell us what's in it for us."
Splint glared at Urist murderously, and pulled out a sheet of parchment from his desk. It was rather unremarkable, just a few words on it. Urist read it carefully, his face carefully arranged to give nothing away. It said,
You will do this for Spearbreakers, or you will both be exiled permanently, by order of the Baron.
Urist smiled at Splint, and said, "Very well. But what if we had wanted to be exiled, to leave this hellhole?"
Splint sighed and rolled his eyes, "Then Fischer and her squad would have detained you in the Research Center for some of Mr Frog's... Experiments."
Urist sighed, and left Splint's office, Hans in tow. The two didn't return to their barracks, didn't go anywhere but out of the fortress. They walked out of the blood plain and into the deep wilderness surrounding the fortress.
---
After a day and most of a night spent in the wilderness, the pair of former soldiers came to a large bluff overlooking one of the goblin camps. It was a bustling, ramshackle affair, with large hide tents scattered about pretty much at random, a pile of corpses of various creatures on one side of the camp. A large bonfire burned merrily in the center, and the two soldiers spotted a few sentries patrolling around the camp lazily.
Urist and Hans surveyed the camp for a long time, counting goblins and tents, memorizing the lay out and very quietly discussing their plans. Finally, they decided they had all the information they could glean, and went seperate ways down the bluff.
Urist made his way to the corpse pile stealthily. One of the sentries was drawing near, his red eyes lit up against the blackness of the night. Urist saw just as clearly as the goblin did in the dark, but he had an advantage in that his eyes did not glow brightly. Urist lay down in the corpse pile, and waited for the goblin to pass. When the way was clear, Urist scrambled on all fours across the short intervening space between him and the tent immediately in front of him.
This tent was the most ornate of all the tents in the camp, which was why Urist had chosen this side to approach. Either it was the leader's tent, and Urist could assassinate the most likely very dangerous goblin first, or it was the mess hall, and Urist would be in a world of trouble.
Urist got very close to the hide wall of the tent, and listened carefully for the telltale ruckus of goblin dining. He heard nothing, and slit a large hole in the tent with his dagger. He slipped carefully through the hole, to find himself directly behind a very ornate bone throne with a sleeping goblin warlord in it. The warlord wore iron armor, and had a silver warhammer leaning against his knees. His ears were pierced with earrings made of bone and teeth, and his helmet had been decorated with more bone and pieces of animal horn.
Urist crept up behind the rather large goblin, and peered around the throne at the insides of the large tent. The tentpole in the center of the tent was festooned with skulls and banners depicting goblins killing sentients. Around the outside edges of the tent were chests and cabinets, most tightly locked. The floor was coated with fur rugs from various animals, mostly bears, but with a few lion and cougar skins thrown in as well. A pair of trolls could be seen through the open tent flap, on either side of the entrance. Urist grimaced, hoping he was quiet enough to not attract the huge monsters' attention.
Urist quietly put his dagger against the goblin's throat. The goblin woke up instantly at the light touch of the blade, a lifetime lived among backstabbing, vicious rivals forcing the goblin to be a very light sleeper. He kicked his chair over backwards, bowling Urist over as he drew his dagger sideways roughly. Urist scored a gash across the chieftain's jawline, but didn't get the artery.
The chieftain snatched up his hammer and spun to face his adversary. His ghastly visage registered surprise when he realized Urist was a dwarf, then hateful rage. He jumped at the struggling dwarf, his hammer swinging furiously, a strange sounding battlecry ripping from his throat.
Urist rolled out from under the swing at the last second, and kept rolling. He dodged another swing this way, and grabbed a cabinet and pulled it over. The cabinet bought Urist a moment to whip out his spear and gain a little maneuvering room. The chieftain didn't advance immediately after Urist, a cruel smile on his face as the two trolls burst into the room behind Urist. The goblin said something in its guttural, evil language, then laughed.
Urist looked at the trolls, and winced. Then he leapt at the goblin, spear leading.
The goblin danced back a step, avoiding the hasty lunge, and swiped his warhammer in a short arc in line with Urist's face. Urist skidded to a stop and leaned back, letting the blow pass in front of his face with a whistle of air. Urist leaned back in and stabbed at the same time. The spear punched through the goblin's breastplate and mail, and scored a long gash across the warlord's side.
The chieftain looked at the spear curiously, then back at Urist amusedly. In crude, heavily accented dwarven, it said, "Bad strike, rockbeast. Troll." Urist crinkled his nose at the hideous accent, then was swept aside by a smashing troll's hand. Urist tumbled into a casket, and righted himself hurriedly. The spear had been torn from his grasp, still lodged in the warlord's armor. All he held now was his dagger. The second troll closed with him swiftly, its massive hands balled into fists, its mouth stretched open in a guttural roar.
Urist ducked under the first swing, and slashed his dagger across the back of the troll's arm, ripping through the bunched up triceps easily. It bellowed again, and Urist stabbed it viciously in the chest, the dagger slipping neatly between two ribs. The wounded troll's expression shifted from rage to fear in a second, and it hastily stumbled back from the dangerous dwarf. Urist pursued it, stabbing and slashing brutally. The other troll came up on his side, and Urist dodged around the wounded troll, putting the wildly backpedalling monster between Urist and the uninjured troll.
As the wounded troll scurried out of the tent, the other troll charged at Urist. Urist smiled, and stepped to the side at the last second. The troll barreled into the center tentpole like a rampaging elephant, easily snapping the thick cedar beam. The tent came crashing down around the combat, and Urist slit another hole in the hide easily. He scrambled up on top of the collapsed tent, avoiding the large lump near him, and attacking the smaller lump trying to get out from under the tent.
He stabbed at the shifting lump furiously, the big holes he punched in the tent fabric quickly getting soaked with blood and gore as he scored hit after hit on the goblin under him. Finally, the chieftain had stopped moving, and Urist slit the tent open again, retrieving his spear from the corpse of the goblin. Urist looked up from his kill to see the wounded troll standing at the edge of the collapsed tent, a triumphant look on its' face. Beside it stood the whole camp of goblins, all with grim smiles on their faces.
Urist sighed, and the large lump in the tent finally ripped through the hide, revealing the uninjured troll. Urist sighed again, frustrated at how badly this fight had gone, when Hans smashed into the loose line of goblins, his silver warhammer smashing skulls and shattering bones easily. The injured troll's victorious look faded as he turned to survey the newest threat. Just as it turned fully around, Hans reached it, and brought his warhammer crashing into its ugly face.
Urist dashed at the uninjured troll as it was distracted by the arrival of Hans, and tackled into it, spear leading. He fully impaled the troll, his spear going all the way through its broad chest and bursting out of the front of it. Urist let go of the hopelessly stuck spear, and stabbed the troll's neck with his dagger, once, twice, three time. On the third stab, he felt his blade go through a vertebrae, and the troll collapsed in a heap, its limbs lifeless.
Urist pulled at his spear, but looked up to see Hans surrounded by goblins, fighting desperately. Urist abandoned the spear, and took his broken jade spearpoint out of his belt pouch in his off-hand as he charged the fray.
Urist slammed into three of the goblins, bowling them all over into a heap of tangled limbs. Urist was stabbing randomly into the three goblins, scoring numerous hits. Another two goblins turned from fighting against Hans to aim careful strikes at Urist.
Urist finished one confused goblin, then another, before he felt the first blow. It struck his shoulder, jarring the limb but not penetrating the armor. The next deflected off his helmet. Urist left the last stunned goblin bleeding profusely on the ground, and turned to face the two attackers. One held an iron sword in its green-skinned hands, and the other a bronze axe.
They split, circling around Urist as best they could. Urist tried to keep them both in his view, but they were working very well together, one feinting while the other quick-stepped out of Urist's view. Urist grew tired of their game, and rolled forwards, turning on a dime as he stood. They both slashed at him viciously from either side. Urist dodged the sword and deflected the axe off his dagger adroitly. He stepped in as he deflected the axe and stabbed with both weapons into the axegoblin's belly. The dagger skipped off the goblin's crude bronze armor, but the jade spearpoint flashed that eerie green light for an instant as it tore right through the armor and the flesh underneath.
Urist tore the spearpoint out to the side, spilling the goblins guts in a reeking heap on the dirt. He spun to face the swordsgoblin, and intercepted its telegraphed overhand swing with both his weapons crossed. He kicked the goblin in the groin, and stabbed it in the face with his dagger. It fell to the ground, rolling about in agony and screaming.
Urist turned back to the axegoblin, but it had already fallen over, unconscious and dying of shock. Urist kept turning to see the battle was over. Hans had overcome the last few goblins facing him easily, and was going about crushing skulls of the wounded. Urist stomped on the swordsgoblin's head almost idly, and decided to retrieve his spear from the paralyzed troll.
As Urist pulled out his stuck spear, he lost his footing and crashed into a cabinet covered with the folds of the tent. The cabinet split open under his weight, spilling its contents. Urist recalled the vast amount of containers in the chieftain's tent, and ripped open the tent to gaze upon the contents of the cabinet.
Scrolls, most written in blood, some in purloined ink or dye. All in the crude goblin hieroglyphs. Urist smiled to himself, and waved at Hans, "Hans, come over here. We need to search this whole tent, to see if we can find more of these scrolls. I think they're what we came here for."
Hans joined Urist, blood dripping from every part of his armor. He toed through the scrolls, and nodded blankly. Hans said, "Alright, but first let's pull this tent off of it all, it will make it easier to search."
They managed to get the heavy hide tent covering pulled off to one side, then threw it in the fire. The two gore-encrusted dwarves searched through the chests and cabinets, then through the other tents. They found enough scrolls and parchment scraps to fill up one of the wooden chests with, after dumping out the bone trinkets in it.
Urist and Hans carried the chest between them as they walked back toward Spearbreakers. This time, the journey was leisurely, and took two days instead of one.
Hmm, not very related to the rest of the story, but somewhat necessary anyway.
And basically all our dwarves have crossbows or a weapon of some sort, pretty much all the time. I approve.
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Topic: [34.11] Spearbreakers - It shudders and begins to move (Read 2278391 times)