The Vultures formed up in the tall cavern grasses, shields forward, weapons at the ready. Even Kadol help up admirably, despite having to hold sword and shield in the same hand. It was a fine display of military discipline. Vlad gave them an approving glance before turning back to the tunnel ahead.
Sir Brenzen's Knights had arrived first, and they stood in a chevron just behind the Vultures, facing the other way. The earth-shattering roars reverberated off the rough stone walls and bounced from the distant ceiling, and the sound reached the dwarves from every direction at once. It was impossible to know where it was coming from.
Captain Rith and the marksdwarves joined the soldiers shortly afterward. Rith tried to talk to Vlad and Brenzen, but was cut off by another deafening roar. It sounded closer."Where did that come from?"
"I dunno."
"That's real helpful, pal."
"Quiet, all of you. Back to holdingk line,"
Vlad ordered.
A few more roars, with a growing interval between them, and then silence. For the longest minute in dwarven history, the caverns beneath Demongate were filled with a disturbing stillness. Even the air seemed motionless and neutral, the chill of the underground somehow gone into hiding.
A muffled footfall, somewhere up ahead. Then another. And another. Any dwarf with a good ear could tell they were getting closer. Another. The ground seemed to shift slightly beneath the soldiers of Demongate, who formed up in the direction of the sound. The footfalls continued, getting louder, until they were massive crashes that echoed in the cavern and rattled the soil beneath them.
From around a bend, it emerged. Claws tore up the soil as it walked. Its single eye was larger than a dwarf's head. A massive grey trunk, dripping noxious spittle, swung from where its snout should be, almost as long as the tree-like neck. Seeing the dwarves, the beast lowered its head and charged.
Crossbow bolts flew out, striking the torso and one of the forelegs. The beast barreled on, ramming into the front line. Soldiers buckled, one fell over backwards. The others descended upon the exposed head with blade and hammer, but the creature pulled its neck back before a single blow could land.
The creature ran in again. Chaos erupted in the formation. It was just like they said in the army, Vlad reflected. No plan of battle survives engagement with the enemy. Dwarves were running about the creature, avoiding the massive stomping legs and targeting the soft underbelly. The beast spewed a gob of toxic-green spit in Brenzen's direction, who managed to block it before it could reach his flesh.
Vlad dived in, buried his axe to the haft in between the sauropod's ribs. He twisted, pulled back, dragged the haft downwards to enlarge the wound. Several paces to his left, toward the head, Brenzen's pick tore out a massive forgotten beast neck steak. All around, Vultures and Knights were raising shields or swinging weapons.
Vlad decided this would be a good time to go a little crazy.They fought the creature for what felt like the better part of an hour. No matter how many bones they splintered or tendons they severed, it would not slow down. Its limbs were rendered useless one by one, and still it crawled and tried to hit the soldiers with its head or spit venom at them.
Attrition took its toll on the beast. It began to slow as the blood poured from its countless wounds. Axes, swords and hammers rose and fell, splitting scales and shattering bones. Until a final swing of a pick ended the life of the ancient creature.
The soldiers of Demongate weren't even back from the depths when the alarm went off again. It was goblins this time. The greenskins had probably been following the dwarven caravan, unable to strike due to the armed caravan escort. Vultures and Knights ran to the barracks as fast as they could, most of them grumbling the whole way. They ran into Dantheman on the way, who was looking suspicious as ever. Vlad gave the dwarf a dirty look, but paid him no mind. Caravan season was a busy season, the mercenary reckoned as he sipped from his flask to soothe his headache. Nothing cures hangovers like more hooch.
His squad and the Knights, now joined by the miner Artyom, scrambled outside toward the ambushers. Whether by chance or by design, the enemy had positioned themselves by the east wall, far outside the range of their archery towers, and were harrying the caravan as it drove toward the depot. The caravan guard were picking themselves up after a fight at the front of the convoy, leaving the local soldiers with the rear.
They approached the goblins as the convoy's rear turned south to pass along the east wall. The rear guard was composed of a single dwarf, who was doing his damnedest to hold off an entire squad. Facing him from behind the group of lashers stood a goblin dressed in fine, stolen silk, a mishmash of cheap jewelry adorning her head and fingers.The lashers were well equipped, but poorly trained. Vlad cut one down himself, and Sir Brenzen took the opening in the enemy formation to charge their leader. Three swings of a pick, and it was done.
The lashers, seeing their leader cut down like wheat come harvest time, decided they would be better off elsewhere and made a break for it. The Vultures gave chase. They managed to catch and execute one, the slowest and fattest of the bunch. A Vulture chopped the goblin in the back of the leg, and the others descended upon it, swinging for the head until one managed to lop it off.
The soldiers returned to the barracks in high spirits. Despite the busy day, none of them was severely injured. A few nicks and a whole lot of bruises from being throw around by a massive prehistoric sauropod, and nothing more. None of them had even been hit with a shot of spittle. They made it back in time to watch the crazy broker go to the depot to deal with the dwarven caravan. Why Tarmid was with him was anyone's guess.
They had come with the caravan. A wagonload of books, provided by the Order and the royal library. Mostly textbooks this time around. Tarmid already had all the research materials he needed. While these books certainly weren't enough to fill the school library, they covered all the courses, with a few spare copies of each. It had taken Tarmid the better part of a week to sort those out and get them in the right cabinets.
There was something else as well. The driver for the book wagon was a member of the Order, an ancient-looking dwarf dressed as a merchant. He had a special delivery for Tarmid. A small leather bag, and a sealed parchment. When he shook the bag, it made a sound of stones clicking together. Once the books were secured within the library, Tarmid went to his office to learn about his new orders.
He locked the heavy office door behind him. He moved to his desk, took away several books to clear some room. Setting the parchment down with all care on the stone surface, he examined the seal. A mace within a flame, the crest of the Order, in red wax. It didn't seem to have been tampered with. Tarmid broke the seal and unfurled the scroll.
Orders and schematics. Tarmid's eyes widened as he read on. It was unusual for his superiors to trust even a Higher Scribe with this knowledge, but perhaps it was necessary. Tarmid opened the leather bag and peeked inside, somehow already certain of what was inside.
Wood opals and heliotropes.
It had taken months of labor. First the digging, according to a very precise floorplan that Tarmid himself had detailed. Then the smoothing and engraving, turning rough-hewn walls into finely chiseled reliefs in the stone. While this was going on, the mason's workshops were filled to capacity, stoneworkers carving out tables, desks, and dozens upon dozens of cabinets. The designs were unusual as well. The chairs had low backs, unlike the traditional stone throne. The desks had a circular indentation in one of the corners to hold writing material. The cabinets had no front to close off the shelves, relying instead on hefty double doors with a simple locking mechanism. Each cabinet was etched with a unique identification, all according to the scribe's indications.
Now it was complete. Dwarves milled about the double doors, curious to look inside. Many in the fortress were already literate, but were eager to learn as well. The illiterate were numerous as well, and many of them wanted to learn how to read. Basic education was widespread in The First Iron, but by no means universal, and many of the smaller hamlets lacked schools, or even books. The promise of literacy lured many to the entrance of Demongate's schoolhouse, where Tarmid stood by the doors, smiling over the crowd."Dwarves of Demongate!"
Tarmid bellowed. "Work on this schoolhouse has gone on almost since the first day of spring. We have toiled, and endured hardship, for many months since."
He gave a moment to let that sink in."But now, it is done! We have built a place of learning, of knowledge and discovery."
He grinned. "Inside, you will find information on classes and schedules. Without further ado, welcome to the school of Demongate!"
Tarmid opened the doors behind him, and the dwarves filed in, some cheering, some just talking loudly. They filled the broad entrance hallway, crowing at the far wall to read - or ask about - the massive notice. There would be classes for basic literacy, basic mathematics, history, and civic education. Advanced classes included metallurgy, medicine, engineering and philosophy. Many were surprised to see Thanatos's name in the list of teaching staff, alongside Thane, Tarmid and Brother Cornelius.
Alone outside, Tarmid's smile fell from his face.
It early in the month of Moonstone, and already the first snowflakes drifted down to kiss the earth and blanket the surface world. Children played games and built snowdwarves, mirthful in their innocence to the ways of the world. Far less joyful were the masons, who were busy putting the roof on the marksdwarf towers and didn't like the idea of working over a wet platform. In an even fouler mood were the Vultures, who were under Vlad's orders to continue training in their roofless barracks despite the increasing chill. If the Knights had the fortitude to train in the snow, Vlad reasoned, then so did his boys. Besides, it builds character.
A panicked shout called the attention of the soldiers. A breathless craftsdwarf came up to them to warn that a troglodyte had passed the trap at the cavern entrance and was now roaming the residential district, frightening the dwarves and generally making a nuisance of itself. Vlad and Brenzen rallied their soldiers, shouted terse orders, and headed down into the fortress.
The troglodyte was easy to locate. They just had to follow the trail of panicking dwarves. One of Vlad's soldiers spotted the troglodyte at the end of the hallway, already injured, trying to fight off a war dog. The armed dwarves ran toward it, dodging panicked civilians. Off in the distance, the wounded troglodyte struggled against the hound, trying to fight off the savage assault of flesh-rending teeth.
Before they could reach the troglodyte, however, another dwarf rammed into it from the adjoining corridor, causing the creature to stumble and pitch forward, roaring in pain. the dwarf rushed forward, ahead of the war dog. A massive hammerhead rose, then crashed down. Again and again. By the time the soldiers had reached the troglodyte's position, it was already dead.
Vlad approached the armed dwarf, the rest of his squad right behind him. Any words of thanks died in his mouth when he recognized the hammer.
Bloody hell that took forever. One more update to go, coming tomorrow.
Valve Time, maybe I can post the save now, if you want. Last update is just story stuff.
Flame has been dwarfed, by the way.
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Topic: Demongate: Wrapping up the Loose Ends. (Read 696833 times)