Icehold, Summer of 257Urkad watched as the war dog was flung into the air, landing squarely on top of the single pillar in the room. Far below, the monstrous ribbon worm Kor Fataldust the Deep Holes roared, angered at the loss of its toy.
“I’m sorry, Urka- *ahem* Overseer, but with the way the tunnels are arranged, there’s no way to get that thing to the surface without letting it inta Icehold.”
Udil Floorskinned, Miner, gestured to the dog on top of the pillar—or most of it, anyway. Three of it’s legs and half of its lower body were still in the chamber with Kor
“And you can see why that’s a bad idea.”
Urkad frowned. “Normally, I’d take offense to someone saying I had a bad idea, but luckily for you, I’m in a good mood right now.”
“You got lucky today. But in the future, show some respect.”
One of those ‘crocs was causin’ some trouble down in the caverns, so I sent the boys to take care of it. The Grave Robber didn’t mess around.
I’ve also noticed that a lot of the workshops are getting rather cluttered, including my personal forge. This won’t do. I’ve asked the miners to expand our storerooms. Maybe this’ll help with the smell coming from the butcher’s shop, too.
One other thing’s been bothering me—the human trade caravan is scheduled to come through here this summer, but it won’t be able to get through the greenskins outside. Trade is very important to me- I am a legitimate buisnessdwarf after all.
I’m gonna have to make those greenskins an offer they can’t refuse.
Urkad walked up the stairs towards the surface, shielding her eyes as the sunlight began to permeate through the ice.
When she reached the top floor, careful to stay behind the fortifications, she called out to the goblins out on the icy plain.
“Hey, greenskins! I know you can hear me out there.”
A pair of goblins looked up from their squabble at the sound of the voice.
“You’ve been out there for a few months now, and I’ve been letting it slide, ‘cause it hasn’t really been a big deal.”
“But now I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Urkad listened for a moment, but the only response to her words was the sound of a silver bolt clattering off the fortifications.
“That’s about what I expected. Let me show you something that might just change your minds.”
The exterior door slammed open, and two large objects were tossed out of the door.
Squinting, one of the goblins could see that they were horribly mangled corpses.
“This Engraver here carved images that I disagreed with in my chambers, and his friend the Arsonist made the mistake of arguing with me. That kind of disrespect makes me rather annoyed. So I want you all out there to ask yourselves a little question. If this is what happens to people who annoy me…”
“What do you think happens to somebody that makes me mad?”
“And a bunch of greenskins hanging around my fort, killing my dwarves and stopping my trade, a buinsessdwarf might just get mad.”
“I’ll leave you all to consider that for a while.”
Urvad turned and walked back down into Icehold.
The greenskins have left, just in time for the human caravan to arrive. Unfortunately, their wagons weren’t able to make it in, so that limits my options somewhat—but every connection has a few setbacks.
Icehold’s food supply isn’t the most varied, so I had the humans give us all the food they had, along with some iron goods and a guineahen.
The trade isn’t the only good thing that happened today—thanks to a few “suggestions,” the Spiderkiller found himself out of a job, and my Enforcer is the prison’s new mayor.
The position’s meaningless, of course. I’m the real power here, but having some kind of official to satisfy the bureaucrats of the world is always nice, especially when they’re in my control.
I have, however, encountered a problem with the Professor. It appears that the prison’s war dogs have taken a liking to him- all 42 of them. Sometimes he can’t move, there’s so many dogs. I’m having the dogs spread around to some of my more loyal dwarves—nothing like a pair of bloodthirsty war dogs to inspire a bit of respect.
Icehold was full of monsters. Murderers, psychopaths, mad scientists, and honey extorters roamed beneath the ice, imprisoned away from civilized society.
However, out on the tundra, an even worse monster lurked, its scaly hide blending in to the bloodstained ice, following the scent of flesh on the icy wind.
It hid, and watched as the human traders emerged from the icy stronghold. There were too few of them to provide a proper feast, and they were too far away for it to catch them before the full moon ended.
However, the humans’ exit had still provided the beast with something- an opening. It darted forward across the ice, from dark patch to dark patch, trying to remain unseen as long as possible.
By the time the cry went up, it was far too late.
The Weremonitor charged forward, a guttural screech echoing from its jaws. It was time to feed.
The creature sprinted across the tundra, covering the distance to the bridge in seconds, long before anyone inside could reach a lever.
DeMarco Claspblazed, who had been outside Icehold gathering usable ammunition, wisely fled from the beast, escaping its notice as he ran into the snow.
As the creature charged up the stairs, it was greeted by a single figure gripping a bronze spear- Stakud Whipdangles, Eye Stabber. The creature struck at the speardwarf, but he danced to the side and stuck his spear, Stonthetust, into the beast’s arm, where it stuck fast.
The creature howled in pain before striking at Stakud again, to no greater effect.
A battle cry rose from the stairwell as another dwarf leaped onto the fray—Uvash Hallknights, Mace Lord—and a horrific snap was heard as his silver mace smashed the creature’s leg bone.
The beast howled once again as it fell, and Uvash readied his mace for the killing blow—but as he brought it down, the monstrous monitor rolled to the side, receiving only a glancing blow to the neck.
The beast was soon lost in a flurry of stabbing spears, mashing maces, and devilish dogs as the rest of the Icehold military attacked the creature. Soon the roof was still and silent, except for Bembul Laboredwrung, Grave Robber’s swearing as he attempted to free his mace from the creature’s skull.
Autumn has arrived on the calendar.
guuuUUUUUHHH. Sorry for the long wait, everybody—I got hit with a serious case of writer’s block about halfway through this thing.
I’ll try and do autumn and winter together to keep the wait down. I should be done playing by tomorrow, but I’m not gonna jinx myself by promising a write-up.
As always, let me know if you have any comments, suggestions, nitpicks,
tributes, and I will see you at the end of winter!
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Topic: Ice Station WereZebra (Read 57081 times)