It was all so peaceful when we arrived. Unicorns grazing over vast fields of bubble bulbs wafting in the wind, dappled with feather tree shade. Mt. Dorfmoar serenely standing guard over the seemingly idyllic valley.
This, we agreed, was a good place. A place we could find rest from our journey. A place we could dig, and build, in peace. A place we could call home.
Seven of us arrived that day. One by one I watched the other six, and scores of the more recent immigrants lured here to their doom, fall to the festering evil lurking deep in the twisted heart of this place. Now, of those that founded this place, I alone remain. It is just me and fewer than one in five of the fools who followed us eking a life out of the corner of land we have closed off from the sea of undead rabidly clawing at our walls.
Rather than a magnificently planned tower (the stunted roots of which we hide within) it is our work that looms over us. There is far, far more to do than the thirty two adults trapped within this aborted masterpiece could possibly accomplish alone. The long-neglected and foolishly ambitious blueprints we drafted on our arrival contemplate an able-bodied workforce numbering in the hundreds, with thousands of dwarf-years of labor required to complete even the initial stages of the tower. They lie alone, spattered in blood, stained by ichor and covered with the dust of years.
This was to be a testament to the grandeur and ingenuity of all dwarfkind. It was to shout our mastery over the land and all that lies beneath it for all to hear. Instead, our stillborn project mocks us and whispers our failure into the ears of all who happen by.
Perhaps it is too late. Perhaps the safe thing to do would be to keep tightly locked up within these walls as the newcomers fall to the shambling horde outside and rise to join their ranks. Perhaps the prudent thing to do would be to wait for a break in the monsters covering the landscape, hastily abandon this cursed place, and leave those still on their way to whatever fate they find here.
But no one ever achieved greatness by playing it safe. And often a certain abdication of prudence is an element of success. We must make this place safe for those who will arrive; we will need them if we are to complete our work.
I pick up and dust off the blueprints. They crackle as I spread them open on the stone table. The gathered crowd looks on silently. Stark resolve glints in their hardened eyes.
“Here” I say, pointing to the abandoned shell of the southeast tower, “is where we start.” My callused farmer’s hands smear away a portion of the delicate, intricate linework and I crudely draw new plans.
I look up at the other poor fools gathered around. “I know you're scared; we're all scared, but that doesn't mean we’re cowards. We can take these skeletons. We can take them, with science.”
-Tekkud “Graebeard II” Dodókniral