One strike. The residual tetrahedrite fell away.
Two strikes: His pick bit into the adamantine-laden stone underneath.
Three strikes. Four strikes. The rock began to crumble.
Five strikes. Six strikes. Seven strikes.
Eight strikes. The hole is made.
-
“Colonel!” Solon had been screaming for Splint as he ascended the fortress after barricading the way down, and had only just broke into the barracks. The odd little dwarf dressed in purple had be a confusing sight for the visiting frost giants, but they simply continued to pack up to head home.
The Cazadors stopped thier sparring and demonstrations at the sudden interruption, with Splint walking over to the panting mess of a bookkeeper.
“Solon? What are you doing up here?” The officer asked. “Catch your breath first. I'd like to be able to actually understand whatever it is you rushed up here for.”
“I... Doing night stocks... TRAITOR. IN THE FORTRESS.”
At those words anyone without a full-face helmet had the color drain from thier faces.
“And he...
He fucking breached the spire!”
Splint, now paler than most ghosts, turned to adress his squad.
“Toad.”
“Sir?”
“Alert the rest of the militia, tell them I want them all down at the-” He was cut off by Solon who said the way down was sealed with a metal and rock barricade he'd oredered some haulers to build. “Alright, fine. Tell them to meet down at Solon's Barricade. The rest of you, inform the King, Zacen, and Nuri of the situation. Chances are they're all asleep right now.”
“Frankly we should've been too. But we just had to decide to do some night drills.” Cerol said with a small chuckle.
“Good thing we're awake then.”
-
“This is everyone?” Splint said, a half hour later. The barricade was crude, but sturdy, and if anything awaited on the other side, it couldn't break through.
Thor stepped forward, the buttplate of his feared skull-cracker thunking against the floor. “Aye sir. We've all said our goodbyes and made peace with our makers. We're ready to advance.”
“Good. Where's Solon? He was supposed to-”
“Colonel!” Came a familiar voice from the back of the gathered dwarven warriors. King Onul was as up-beat as ever as he muscled his way through the crowded hall, scabbard in hand. “Colonel, wait!”
“Err, Sir, I thought I'd told you to help everyone find shelter.”
“Yes, yes, you did. But! I wanted to give you something!”
“I don't thi-”
“Oh but you do. Your sword Colonel, your sword!” He held his own out, and pointed to the iron blade on Splint's hip. “Don't want you going off to fight some abomination with an old iron blade that had difficulty with far less threatening creatures!”
Splint was about to say something about his sword being insulted when he thought about. Shutbite had served him well, but it was an old and cheap blade even when he had bought it years ago for his work as a caravan guard, and surrounded by blades of night crystal, steel, and even adamantine, it even looked... Backwards to still wield, its quality well below military standards of his nation. Hell, for all he knew it was just some human made peice meant for one of thier conscripts.
“Thank you sir.” He said after a small mental farewell to his sword. He unfastened his scabbard, and held his iron blade out to his king, who took it and gave the officer his own. “Take good care of Shutbite your majesty. I'll want it back once we're finished down there.”
Onul smiled and took the iron sword. “Of course Colonel. Now then, out of the way, I need to get the door for you!”
Everyone present was slightly taken aback by this, but said nothing. Before long, they were descending into the sweltering heat of the magma forges. There was no sign of any intruder, save a dead dwarf who'd shoved his head into a smelter, apparently out of despair. However it was clear he or she had done their duty to the evils they worshipped. The chambers and tunnels were filled by a sickly purple haze, and as they advanced towards the breach in eerie silence broken only by the clanking of mismatched suits of dwarven armor they could tell they were not alone, the horrid growls and cries of some unknown horrors coming loud and clear from the darkest depths.
But strangely, they had failed to crawl forth into the world.
-
“How's construction going Anvil?” Splint asked, approaching the busying workers.
Shifted her weight uncomfortably. She was constantly nervouse near the breach, all the metalworkers were. “It's... It's going. Honestly my strength is in forging blades and spears, not directing construction.”
Splint nodded. His soldiers were eager for a fight by this point. “I know, but you're the head of the metalworkers' guild here, and that means this falls to you. As well as the fact metal was the most readily available material. Not sure why you went with aluminium though.”
“Lighter, easier to work with. Simple as that.” Anvil said with a shrug.
“How long?”
“Another week, maybe two if anyone decides to take thier month off.” She sighed, and watched her youngest child badgering one of the other smiths to make him into a tin sword. “This is going to end badly you know.”
“Mhmm. Well, keep at it. Whatever's down there is keeping everyone awake with the noises they're making.”
-
I present to thee people, the most lack luster, short, and cliffhanger-y ending ever. This is where updates are likely to end for Carryscar, sad as it is to say, so it'll be listed as [FINISHED]. This fort had a truly amazing run, lasting far longer than most I played save an old glacier fort I lost long ago and you guys have been the heart and soul of it, but I want to end the fort on an ambiguous note and before I start another project. On that note though, I may still necro the thread from time to time with the odd peice of artwork such as the one for Monitor Liisard, though you guys are more than welcome to continue the story yourselves via stories or roleplay, whichever you prefer.
Did we crush the demonic threat? Were our fighting dwarves overwhelmed? We'll never know. In the spoiler will be the details of what went down with the breach.
I had a miner knock out not one, but two spires. This is because while I got the messages and the units detected, they were under thr wrong spire and breaching theirs did nothing. I think two access points confused them, and I'm only treating one as a canon breach by a chaos dwarf infiltrator. The Shadow Haunts are monstrous humanoids composed of ash which means due to the nature of our armor and the fact we have numerous marksdwarves, points towards a swift and brutal victory.
There's lots of things that remain unfinished, but it's clear our large and powerful militia negates damn near all threats and nobles aside from Zacen (Nuri's been incumbent for years now if you've paid attention, and Onul's demands are completely within reason,) with reasonable preferences eliminates the threat of justice. No FUN means no good stories for you guys after a point, and that's not what I want.
One example is Freetown. It's carved out but it's not furnished, stocked, or even inhabited in-game, and another is Onul's palace, which is lacking windows in places or that town square I wanted. But, due to mainly the lack of a real challenge and no desire to embark on stupidly complicated engenieering projects (I just don't care for those sorts of things much.) Hell I should have put more into the artwork even, but I feel this gets the job done and oddly... Suits the fort better for some reason.
Anyway, if anyone wants the save,
it's here. I really, truly couldn't have asked for better people to be an active audience than you guys, and you were with me for more than one first event ever in close to three years of playing this great game.
I hope you all enjoyed the story, such as it was, and I'll see you on my next story project! The only question for that is... Humans or orcs?
Poll
7 (26.9%)
Author
Topic: Ozkakurrith "Carryscar," A Civ Forge Community/Story Fortress: FINISHED (Read 98021 times)