This is the story of Nil Cagith, 'The Ferocious Drinker of Crying,' a mediocre swordsdwarf who became an instrument of justice in an uproarious fortress, and subsequently was left with just his mental fortitude, a shattered fortress, and a sword against an entire civilization of dwarves and goblins, the beasts of the Age of Myths...and it isn't looking too good for the elves or humans.
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Nil Cagith had been content with his home. Amfeb, or 'Openarrow', was a growing fortress located at the peak of a mountain, 'The Excavated Anvil', and the warmth of the magma in the halls was matched only by that of its honorable and friendly inhabitants. He had been a herder previously, living quietly in the slopes of the capital of the Just Swords, shearing his herd of alpaca and brewing a nice amber Longland for the autumn festival to Ottem. His moderate practice with a blade came from the required month of militia service every year, but by all in all his was a peaceful existence. He hadn't actually considered moving his entire life, but the utmost of faith in Ottem and in the Just Swords- and when the call came for guards needed at Amfeb, the fledgling new forge-hall for the Just Swords, he hitched up his two alpaca with a pig tail rope, and left on the third or fourth caravan in the year of 7. He had been given a nice iron sword (apparently a masterpiece, in fact), a room without any vermin, and assigned to his new squad, 'The Mountainous Leopards', and soon grew to look forward to the nightly games of 'crowns and floodgates' over beer with his fellow men. Although, to be quite honest, he felt he was quite the mediocre sparring partner, despite having been given the killing blow of Ngokang the Troll during the siege of 9, no matter how much he had protested that the spinning *giant copper axe blade* had done most of the work.
One year later, sliding the dwarven head from the length of his iron blade, watching it roll down the long, long staircase, he reflected aloud, in a soft voice, "A good a way as any to end the first decade of our time."
His only answer was the periodic thump of Lor Focuswork's head as it returned to the bowels of the earth.
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So the story in depth:
In the early summer of 10, having just defeated a goblin siege with minimal injuries, our fortress was greeted by a forgotten beast, a webshooting tick monster Brush Titan by the name of Allas Leromor Lisig Mishos arrived on the top of the volcano, right next to my goblin arena-over-magma, where enemies (and unlucky dodging arena combatants both) could be flung into the magma. I decided that it was only a tick, and by Armok my dwarves would swarm it and riddle it with bolts and choppingweapons. My Legendary marksdwarf Cogs (who was married and had about a million brats in the fortress) came up to the top, alone, and uh, with her baby in one arm and a crossbow in the other began plunking bolts into the beast. But backup was nowhere in sight- she ran out of bolts, and was webbed, then her head smashed against a rock and her baby crushed underneath a massive foot. I had seriously underestimated this beast- our squads had difficulty hitting it, and the marksdwarves couldn't get a good position as it was at the top of mountain. It wiped through 10-15 dwarves on the mountain, then descended into the fortress as I decided to solidify my defense. Of note, one dwarf was kicked about 10 times brutally, knocked webbed and was seemingly still alive as he sank.
We got our battered squads together, but the titan was coming- ripping apart a couple of citizens who were curiously willing to run towards spike traps and titans both, despite the 'Just Stay Inside Just Swords' order that had been given. Then it broke down my door and gained access to the central staircase.
Our response had to be rapid, and so the miners, woodcutters, and a considerable chunk of dwarfpower were conscripted and told to grab gear quick- and they swarmed it. The battle was maniacal- webs flying up and down the staircase, a horde of dwarves over the chitinous fiend, getting knocked away and triggering traps, blood and dwarven body parts flying everywhere, a dwarven child crushed underneath falling stone. But it was taken down, finally, by Vabok Likkottekkud- an immigrant conscript of a couple months duration, who shoved his crossbow, sans bolts, into its brain.
So the battle was over, but there was a problem- the dried, salty biome, my wounded dying of thirst in my hospital. And a horde of dead peasants, babies, and important squad leaders. I think I would have been fine, except...my military was on the edge already. Haunted.
...By the ghost of an Axedwarf who had fallen off the fighting platform into the magma during some nailbiting combat games in the volcano's maw, who I could seemingly not order a slab designated for. And of course, they snapped- an axedwarf going berserk and rampaging through my poor dwarves. I ordered Nil, now the last uninjured and competent soldier, to kill him. And then the next tantruming dwarf. The Just Sword would not tolerate crazy dwarves, and Nil, a very calm dwarf who likes to make lists and talk quietly, showed a penchant for sliding his sword into angry dwarf heads, cutting the problem short.
The named him- the Ferocious Drinker of Crying. I assume it is because he drinks the tears of melancholy dwarves before he puts them out of their misery. Figuring he needed practice, I ordered him to kill a trader immigrant who was stuck on the edge of the map, near a burrow I had designated for incoming dwarves to try and keep them away from fistfights and general miasma. He chased him around a while, and then I ordered him back inside eventually. A second before he did, he apparently chopped off the trader's fingers, and then started slugging it up to my fortress. I kept seeing cancel messages from him, that he was distracted by clothiers and novices and things. I assumed he was just angry, and then, I noticed him walking into my fortress entrance, indiscriminately chopping arms off dwarves he walked by, slashing the brains out of babies and all sorts of wildness. I, I now come to learn, had created a loyalty cascade against this lone swordsdwarf.
I wasn't too displeased, because I thought that was awesome (and he -was- named the drinker of tears), and it cut down on fistfighting dwarves (arms amputated). But he was hungry and near starving, because he coudln't path around an unconscious recruit (who he had chopped the foot off of himself). To save him, I ordered the dwarves (all the dwarves) into a burrow I set at the top of the mountain so Nil could get to the kitchen. Yes, that level where the battles had been.
...that level that a squad of trolls spawned in almost immediately after as the next siege. Right in the midst of my population's get-out-of-the-kitchen burrow.
At least Nil got a snack. Noteworthily, Vabok Likkottekkud, the guy who killed the titan, now missing both legs and an arm (courtesy of Nil, or the initial tantruming axedwarf) crawled around naked in the entrance of the fortress, dismembered goblin parts everywhere, scratching trolls with his one last arm. Another leftover militia captain used a crutch on them and beat them to death. They both survived.
(until Nil determined he needed a nap.)
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So, I've never had something quite so insane happen. I didn't know about the loyalty things, but it creates some interesting Fun. I've got a broker, three dwarven children I locked in a room for safety, and a couple of other leftover dwarves. What do you guys think? Try and live on with Nil fighting off the entire society? He's a high master shearer and adept brewer, so at least he can be a drunken hermit herder.
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Topic: Nil Cagith, 'The Ferocious Drinker of Crying.' The Just Swordsdwarf (Read 638 times)