A little bit of historyMuch had been made of Battletrials' heroic gladiators, darstardly politicians and deceptive resident vampire. The engravings which now coated the walls of the fortress told tall tales from the beginning of the world, to the founding of Battletrials itself. Every day events such as the ousting of Fikod, to the goblin ambush which nearly spelled doom for the town were etched in brilliant mosaic carvings which danced along the walls and floors of the fortress.
But what about the children? Those forgotten members of the fortress, who get exposed to the same violence and debauchery that the adults do, rarely get mentioned in the legends and opus' which litter the history books.
Shorast, the third mayor of Battletrials, had a soft spot for kids. He took it upon himself to teach the three children of the fortress about the history of the world. He figured that they may be destroyed or destroy themselves any minute so, if any of the children happen to escape the carnage, they should go back to the Mountainhome as educated dwarves.
On this day his makeshift class had a guest, Zan the Mason, who had taken time out of his schedule to talk to the class about a wonderous creation he had recently completed.
Shorast, sitting at the back of the office, gestured to Zan. "Everyone say hello to our guest, Zan. He's a mason, so he's very good with crafting from stone."
The kids said hello in unison. Zan smiled as he looked down the students eager faces. "Hello everyone," he said, a hint of nerves in his voice. "I've been invited here today to talk about something I just finished making in my workshop." Zen gestured to his left, at the cloth-covered object which sat next to him. "At some point when you grow up," he continued, "Your mind will tell you to do strange things."
One of the kids raised their hands. "What do you mean strange?" she asked.
Zan considered his answer carefully for a moment. "Imagine that, all of a sudden, nothing else matters. Food, drink, other dwarves. All you can think about is... an idea." He was talking with his hands, his eyes widening as he recalled the surreal events which had transpired only days earlier. "It may be something small, like a toy, or something useful like a door. All you know is that nothing else matters until you make it. Once you're finished
The kids chatted excitedly. The first girl raised her hand again. "What did you make, mister?" she said. Zan smiled and withdrew the cloth from over his creation.
The kids smiles faded. One of them yawned. "You made a cabinet? But that's boring! You just put clothes in it."
Zan laughed. "It's not the most exciting, until you look at the side." He put his hands on the sides of the cabinet and, grunting with exertion, turned the cabinet around so the left hand side faced the students. Carved into the side of the solid granite cabinet was an intricate scene.
The kids ahh'd as they crawled in for a closer look. They chatted amongst themselves as their fingers traced over the intricate shape of Nguzo the minotaur, his giant horns soaked in blood as Sanera the elf was impaled on their razor-sharp points. The minotaur was roaring as he struck down the elf.
The kids then spied the other side of the cabinet, which had carvings of dwarves. One of the kids tugged on Zan's sleeve. "Who is this dwarf?"
"This is the First King. Momuz Homagehatchet. The founder of our mother fortress, The Massive Helms. It is because of him that we have the fine civilisation that we enjoy today."
"Wow," the kids said, exploring every inch of the cabinet. After a while Shorast got up and walked over to Zan, shaking his hand. "Thanks for coming in," he said.
Zan smiled. "It's good for them to see that on every boring cabinet there can be a fun carving of elven pain and suffering."
Paying the priceCrusoe the Marksdwarf had been itching for his chance to prove his worth in the arena. Jester had been distracted with the events surrounding Kivish's death and Ilral's arrest so had not ordered any new arena bouts in recent weeks. Finally he had had enough. He had persuaded one of his Animal Trainer friends to drag down the last remaining goblin prisoner from the prisoner stockpile to the arena, where he stood waiting, alone. The other gladiators were nowhere to be found, Jester included, so Crusoe and the goblin speardwarf were on their own.
Grinning from ear to ear he reached behind him into his quiver... which was empty.
Crap... forgot to re-fill it. Crusoe swore, then drew his short sword and approached the goblin, who calmly held out his spear in front of him and walked out to meet Crusoe.
The goblin sneered, hissed then charged forward. Crusoe's heart leaped into his throat as he saw the goblin rushing forward, raising his sword out of reflex to protect his head and torso. The goblin's spear thrust forward and plunged deeply through the protection of his cloak, tearing into the muscle of Crusoe's right upper arm.
Crusoe cried out in shock and pain as he staggered backwards. His right arm tingled and he lost the ability hold onto his shield and sword, which clattered to the ground in front of him. Crusoe cradled his right arm with his left as he tried to dodge the goblin's spear thrusts. After dodging a particularly vicious stab Crusoe decided to shoulder-charge the goblin, crunching into his torso and sending the goblin tumbling to the ground. The spearman, still on his back, stabbed forward with his spear, the point penetrating the bottom of Crusoe's shoe and tearing through his skin.
Crusoe cried out and jumped back, his arm still gushing blood. He weighed up his options. He decided to move back towards the door leading to the arena. He walked backwards towards the door, dodging strikes from the goblin who had jumped to his feet and was again harassing Crusoe with his spear. Crusoe reached the door and started banging on it with his fist, still the goblin and dodging his strikes.
"Hello? Who is there?" said a voice from the other side of the door. It was Jester's voice.
"Jester! I need help!" Crusoe cried, kicking sand in the face of the goblin, who reeled back.
The second door to the arena burst opened after a few seconds and Jester, armourless but with war hammer in hand, burst into the arena. He quickly weighed up the situation, glaring at Crusoe. "What the hell have you done!?" he hissed, holding his arm across Crusoe and pushing him back through the open door. Crusoe went sprawling back into the barracks, landing on the flat of his back, as Jester charged towards the goblin.
This goblin however was smart. Deftly side-stepping Jester's charge he turned and plunged his spear into Jester's unarmoured left thigh. Roaring in pain Jester fell over, unable to feel his left leg. The end of the spear twisted around in the wound for a moment before being withdrawn.
Jester swallowed the panic of realising he couldn't feel his leg, swivelling around on the ground and smashing his hammer into the right foot of the goblin, driving it back into its ankle and shattering the bone. The goblin howled and struck at the dwarf but Jester parried the blow and smashed his hammer into the left leg of the goblin. The goblin, the bone in his left leg chipped, stumbled forward, allowing Jester to strike at his lower arm, breaking it, before landing a final blow square on the goblin's head.
The speardwarf fell to the ground, dead.
Jester, panting heavily, tearing a strip off his tunic and wrapping it around the bleeding hole in his leg. He propped himself up onto his one good leg with his war hammer and hobbled towards the arena door, which had been held open by Crusoe who watched, grimly, as his commander walked past him silently, grunting with pain.
Getting used to thingsJester sat up in the hospital bed, swinging his injured leg back and forth. It had been a week since the arena and after intensive work from the medical dwarves, Jester could walk again, albiet with a new friend: a wooden crutch, strapped alongside each side of his leg. The doctors didn't know if he could ever walk properly again without it, so he was trying his best to get used to it.
Hatchy and Crusoe watched from the door as Jester stood up, shakily, and walked a few paces around the hospital, Sibrek the medical dwarf watched intently, scribbling notes as Jester walked around in circles.
"Alright, thanks Jester," Sibrek said, helping the militia commander sit back down on the bed. "When you're ready, you are free to resume normal duties. This crutch will let you walk the same as you did before... in time. For now, you will be slower, so don't go running any races."
Jester smiled despite his obvious discomfort, nodding and clapping the doctor on the back as he stood up again and walked towards the hospital door. Hatchy did her best to smile despite her concern. Crusoe avoided Jester's gaze.
"Don't tell me you're going to retire," Hatchy said.
Jester shook his head, jerking his head towards Crusoe. "If I retire, this one will feel miserable. Have to show him that even if you get injured, you keep going." He turned to Crusoe and put his hand on his shoulder. "You messed up, kid. But that's you learn. How's your arm?"
Crusoe grimaced, rubbing the bandages which covered his arm. "Healing. Look, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you..."
Jester shook his head. "Just get me a barrel of booze every now and then. At least until I learn how to walk fast enough to keep up with you kids."
Well that escalated quicklyA few weeks passed. Jester's leg had healed nicely as far as physical deformity however he was resigned to always needing the crutch. His walking speed had increased and he was even participating in sparring sessions; the dwarves were surprised with how nimble he was hobbling around while blocking and striking.
With Battletrials now out of goblin prisoners Shorast had been presiding over the rapid increase in engraving works in an effort to make the fortress more enticing. The old dining room had now been replaced with a statue garden, with two large golden statues standing proudly in the centre. Engravings now covered the fortress, not only in the new dining room but across more and more hallways. Battletrials had never looked more amazing.
The plan worked. A little too well.
Hunters out catching Thrip people were the first to raise the alarm, their keen eyes spotting a mass of movement towards the east and west. Hatchy and Jester - hobbling frantically - rushed to the entrance of the fortress as the Hunters pointed to the approaching threat.
The goblins had returned.
As Jester and Hatchy watched from their vantage point at the main gates, the goblins' numbers grew. And grew. And grew further, along both horizons. The goblins, obviously having learnt from their first incursion, had decided to attack in a pincer movement.
"How many do you count?" Jester asked, his eyes peering towards the east.
Hatchy was facing west, counting on her fingers. "Including yours, I count 24 goblins... and five trolls."
Jester nodded. "Do all of your goblins have war mounts?"
"Yes," Hatchy responded, "Both crocodiles and giant cave swallows."
"Mine too," Jester said. "So take those 24 goblins, add on their mounts which can be even more dangerous and you have... 48. Plus the trolls which makes 53 altogether... effective strength is roughly around the 60-70 mark."
Hatchy whistled. "So nearly half of our entire population. Are we screwed?"
Jester snorted. "We were screwed the moment we set foot inside Battletrials. This just makes things interesting."
===
Am now caught up again. This invasion is by far the largest I have ever tried to repel. With Jester injured too, this makes things rather interesting indeed. Armour has definitely been a steep learning curve for me this game.
I am thinking that I may have enough cage traps in tactical locations to nullify the trolls, so sealing myself away and drafting half the fortress into leather armour (I more than enough tanned hides so I can get this done as long as the doors hold) and using up all my remaining bars for weapons. I MAY have enough bodies to match numbers. But this is... wow. The mounts worry me.
The alternative is a blaze of glory straight out the front doors.
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Topic: Battletrials - Wayward Warriors (Community) (Read 27927 times)