A jeweler was gifted by Armok with a magnificent idea. A gemstone the likes of which would inspire all dwarves looking on it. But though the fortress had gemstones plentifully scattered across its many corridors, there was no workshop at which to cut them, and no dwarf headed the jeweler's cry for help. Being neglected by his companions, he swore revenge. Walking into the Grand Dining Room, the heart of the fortress, he decided that they all must die.
Nine there were, dining that day. Nine dwarves, abandoned. Peons, they were called, and their lot was nothing but hauling throughout the day. Yet they saw in the jeweler's enraged eyes a threat, and the Nine would not neglect their fortress. They were unarmed, but so was the jeweler, and they were nine while he was one. They fell upon the jeweler, heedless of their own safety, worrying only of protecting the fortress against the jeweler's rage. In the fray, a lucky punch landed on the jeweler, breaking the skull, driving the skull into the brain, and tearing the brain.
Yet while the threat of the jeweler had ended, the Nine knew that the fortress could not long survive without protection. The goblin menace was increasing, and though the traps laid in defense had served the fortress well thus far, the Nine knew that no number of traps could replace the iron will of a true dwarven army.
The fortress of the Nine was a young fortress in a land of few minerals. Though flux and zinc were plentiful, no trace of iron or of copper had been found in these hills. What little had been purchased from traders was hammered out into a few breastplates. The carpenters whittled swords of wood for the Nine to use until the merchants returned, or perhaps until the miners strike iron.
And so the Nine set themselves apart from the workings of the fortress. They trained, sparring slowly against each other, letting their hands grow used to the weight of a sword. They decided that it was time to train against captive goblins, victims of the traps protecting the fortress.
The Nine locked themselves into a small room, and waited. From the ceiling was to come a naked goblin, suitable for training fights. They watched the hatches, poised and ready.
They watched. They waited.
From the ceiling came not the naked goblin that they had expected, but a goblin invader, armed with silver halberd, clothed with iron. For a grievous mistake had been made, and the goblin had not been disarmed. No one noticed before the goblin faced the Nine, and against that silver halberd, the Nine perished. They gave the goblin a name, which in the human tongue is The Gloss of Disembowelment, and so the Nine fell.
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Topic: What's going on in your fort? (Read 6124517 times)