Animals, collapses, magma, water. These were the Overseers preferred methods of execution. Dumplin had assembled a list of every dwarf who had ever lived in Arrowstocakdes, significant incidents in their life, and had made inferences about their relationship with the overseer. Fleeing from combat, harming an asset to the fortress, failure to complete and a host of other infractions were given various weights in regards to likelihood of reprisal. Should a dwarf be killed in a cave in there was no reason to be suspicious, sometimes dwarves died in cave ins. If a dwarf died shortly after offending the overseer then his manner of death was recorded. After working throughout the night Dumplin had identified those four as the most likely.
If a Baboon noticed the sound of mining in an area other than the mines they were to report it to Dumplin. If they noticed strange construction with no apparent purpose they were to report it to Dumplin. If familiar stone suddenly became damp or warm to the touch they were to report it to Dumplin. If they were told to pull ANY lever they were to report it to Dumplin. If the dining hall served something that was not made of tallow or acorns they were to report it to Dumplin.
If a Baboon suspected an attempt on their life was being planned they were to flee to the caverns. The caverns were so incredibly dangerous because the Overseer had a much looser grip on them. The Overseer sat in his fancy little office plotting their murder where a cavern beast simply planned to eat them if they drifted by. Evading the Overseer was paramount, if his focus abated they could safely return. If it did not they carried enough rations for one season and they were capable of foraging indefinitely.
They were not to take these measures lightly, the first time they did it they may break his plans but the second he would surely be prepared. If it came to that they were to flee into the deep caverns and walk in one direction until they reached a path to the surface. Giving up had not occurred to her in the past, leaving the fortress had always been a punishment to dread rather than any kind of way out. This was bleak. It was entirely possible she and her son would be murdered. Asen could not come with her if she left. He was still more or less beneath the Overseer's ire, the fortress was still a safe place for him. The caverns on the other hand were musty and cold and Asen's weak lungs would give out if he had to march with the Baboons for months on end looking for a way out.
She slept very little now. Vakun's death, her failure to protect the Baboons made the situation so much more real. The Baboons divided into three groups of three whose members randomly rotated, these groups slept in one of the four corners of three of the four different dorms. The dorms would be randomly selected each night before bed. If the Overseer planned to take them sleeping he they would not make it easy. If the Baboons were awoken by noise they were to report to the caverns and wait one hour. If the others showed up they were to return to bed but if they did not they were to presume the fortress demanded their blood and flee.
Dumplin wasn't alone in her preparation. All of the baboons recognized that they were war. Athel had found a moleweasel which she taught to make noise when finely tuned senses detected danger. Bim had used his skills as a jeweler to stud his arms and gauntlets with sharp stones. Stodir had taken two extra waterskins and a small bag to carry additional rations ensuring the safety of the baboons if they became trapped. Inod kept a few handfuls of sand in his pocket to blind anyone who managed to get within striking distance. Degel tucked a handful of bandages, a few splints, and a ball of of tree resin into the pockets of his cloaks, he would tend to any wounded quickly and with proper tools. Angzak had learned from Ashmon how to break a an enemies neck and even if caught without her weapon was wholly capable of defending herself. Tath cultivated moss in her hair and on her clothes so when she entered the forest she became quite difficult to see.
Iral had taken it to another level. He'd had affixed a dagger to his crossbow to destroy obstacles or bring down more dangerous foes with which he practiced daily. Most boldly however he had stolen a single exploding bolt from the quiver of Bembul Inkshallow, the captain of the First Marksdwarves. Designed to detonate on impact they had the potential to stat massive fires and were reserved only for master marksdwarves. The weapon was tucked neatly into Iral's boot and if the occasion came where he needed it he would be ready. Many dwarves said Dumplin Lakewanders and her motley crew were a pack of paranoid bold snuggler. None of them would say they were killed by cobras in their sleep.
Author
Topic: The Increasingly Tragic Tale of Dumplin (Read 79105 times)