I've had a lust for writing the last few weeks and today i got this idea about a Dwarf Fortress tale and after thinking about it for a while I decided to write it and post it here.
First two pages posted.
The Seven Trades of The Spears of Mourning
A tale about dwarfs, cats and ale!
Chapter 1 : A journey, or why you should stay home.
”Kaseth Stonespear is my name, know it and tremble in fear!” I shout down at my foes, several goblins trying to kill me and burn down my fortress, but I'm here to stop them. I jump down from the rock i was standing on landing right among them, my Admantine spear piercing its first victims throat and starting my deadly dance.
It's over in a flash and I alone stand alive on the field, the goblins broken and strewn across the field their blood will make sure next years harvest is plentiful. I turn my back on them sure that I have won and a barrel of ale awaits me back inside my home, but one of the treacherous vermin still remains and he pushes me from behind. There is nothing I can do as the ground beneath me disappears and I plunge to my death.
“Kaseth you lazy, worthless dwarf. Get up right now and get to work before I send Jawy on you!” I find myself on the floor of my very modest room and it takes a second before I can understand what is going on. That is Gilda my fathers consort screaming and Jawy is our guard dog that I'm pretty sure would love to eat me. I hate that dogs, but my father says that any noble family worth anything must have at least one dog, I disagree with him, but nobody ever listens to me. I'm a bastard you see and not in the line to inherit anything more interesting than my grandfathers collection of socks not that I don't value a fine sock
“Are you ignoring me? Get up now and I won't miss you if you stay away!” I scramble up from the floor and grab the few clothes I own before hurrying out. My clothes are older than me and probably looted of some unfortunate military recruit or stolen from a caravan. It's all made out of Ratmen leather and smells very “interesting”.
So what is the work I do that is so important I have to get chased up every morning? Hauling, yes my only work is to haul rock from one tunnel to another or retrieving some corpse from the traps to burn. Now I'm quite sure I'm not really qualified to do other work, but that is something I aim to change so instead of hauling I'm off to my hiding spot to read. The literature we have here in Murder Jaws of Growling Pain is quite interesting actually and about the fortress name I have no idea what kind of madness our founder was struck by when he came up with that name. Perhaps it was changed by our Queen she have always had a thing for things with jaws and the growling oh it never stops, like we have a thousand war dogs buried in our walls, but back to my books.
Right now I'm reading a book on identifying all the ore that contains iron and there is a chapter on how foul the gem Cat eye is and how to best avoid it, which I'm guessing is a late addition. Now I'm not sure what iron can be used for, but I heard my father talking with some traders about iron and something he called Flux and how important it was, so I guess it has some use.
“Did you hear the latest order from the Queen?” A voice suddenly says close to me and I almost have a hearth attack before I realize he's talking to someone else. “Yes I heard we are to strike down anyone trying to hide from their work, the monument to our great leader must be completed in time.” Oh by Armok's beard this is bad news, you see my hiding place isn't really that hidden. It's just a room that haven't been used in a long time and there is nothing between me and the guards, but an old door on rusty hinges.
I can feel the panic gripping me as I hear them stopping right outside the door. I almost tear my beard off as I wait for the door to slam open and to angry guard dwarfs rush at me screaming, but then they walk off again and the panic I felt starts to withdraw. This place isn't safe and I need to find a new hiding place before it's to late. I spend a moment making sure my beard is still attached before slowly creeping out being very careful not to make a sound.
I don't make it very far before I can hear footsteps again, but this time the panic isn't present, I know where I'm at and there is a way out. On a first glance the corridor I'm in might seem like it would be very hard to escape from with solid stone walls and all, but on the wall there is a hatch with a engraved text reading Disposal chute for all forms of cats, by the order of our great Queen may it be used many times. I happen to like cats and even managed to hid one away from everyone else so I'm not particularly found of the idea that we need disposal chutes for them, but as I already explained nobody listens to me.
This particular chute is special though, it's still under construction and have been for a year as the one on hauling duty for the rock clogging up the tunnel is me and I have no interest in removing it. I open the hatch and crawl in, confident that the rock will stop my fall and I can crawl back up. I really should learn not to try and be confident about anything as of course after a year someone else got around to removing the rock and I now fall only hoping the spikes at the bottom aren't installed yet.
Did you know that if enough kittens are impaled on a spike it will break? Well I just found out that they do and Armok was I happy about that. The fact that I now was half drowning in dead kittens put a dampener on my mood though. Gasping for air I struggled for a while before finding solid ground to stand on and made my way over to the edge of the pit. I couldn't get up and believe me I tried for a long, long time, almost five minutes before I started screaming for help.
I was quite desperate when another dwarf finally showed up and I grabbed the first thing I could reach, which was the unfortunate dwarfs beard. I made my way up the edge as the other dwarf tumbled over and fell face first in the blood filled pit. Now I did try and get him up I promise, but I'm not too good with blood or I couldn't see him so what could I do? He did drop a satchel though and a hat, I always wanted a hat. This one was light brown and made out of some kind of light leather, there was a nice feather in the top.
Well the other dwarf didn't appear again and being reasonably sure he drowned I put on the hat grabbed the satchel and tried finding my way back to the some part of the fortress I recognized. Apparently the cat slaying pits connect directly to the entrance as I come out just at the main gate, traders shuffling past and guards standing at attention. “You there, I have been looking all over for you!” A hand grabs my shoulder turns me around.
I think that it's the guards coming to take my head for skipping work, but it's a civilian and a pretty handsome dwarfette at that. “We have to go now!” She screams at my face I can't help, but think she must be half deaf. “Where do we have to go?” I stammer unsure if I should run or not.
“Have that hat of yours eaten your brain? We have to go to the wagon of course!” Did she just say hats can eat your brain? As I think about that I don't realize she drags me along until I stand right at a big wagon loaded with supplies.
Author
Topic: The Seven Trades of The Spears of Mourning. [Story] (Read 644 times)