It started like any overseeing duty would. Zaneg browsed the stocks, took notes of missing items, began to make some adjustments. They were out of soap, so she ordered some made, starting with two stacks of ashes, then moving to lye and soap itself. She told the haulers and doctors to grab the feverish soldiers outside, and drag them to the hospital. If another siege assaulted them before the year was over, they'd need everyone up and running to fend the invaders off.
Some soldiers were down, or dead. Others received a promotion as a result. Congratulation, captain Mahoney, your ability to not currently lie down outside has marked you as a fine leadership candidate!
The main problem they had was that most of the residents were useless, useless babies. Undraftable children, 70 of them out of two hundred dwarves. The soldiers could use some more allies, that was true, but adding more people to the army would stretch the supply chain more than it could afford. Instead of quantity, they'd go for quality.
Captain Pisskop ordered many iron pieces of gear before he stepped down as overseer. That would help immensely. Steel would be better, tho, so Zaneg told a few miners to go downstairs, as deep as they could underneath the caverns, and begin some exploratory mining. If they could outfit the army with steel gear, then they would be able to fend off invaders with ease. all they needed was flux stone...
The weaponmaker she chatted with agreed. Aldraglienon wanted nothing more than to work with high quality steel ingots to forge the greatest and most dwarven equipment possible. There was, of course, one thing stronger than steel; little did Zaneg know, the miners' thirst for wealth would make or break the fate of Clobbermountain half a season from now... But let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?
Not all dwarves had been evacuated when the next dust cloud rolled around...
Tackleberry had been stripped of his officer rank until he recovered. Emerging from a coma, he found himself in the depot hall, still feverish, surrounded by miasma on one side, and clouds of dust on the other.
Tackleberry had the fortune to pass out inside the depot. Many of his former squadmates didn't have that chance. Some of them were carried inside to the hospital. Others...
''Oh shit!'' he muttered, when the shape emerged from the red mist.
''...Logem!'' screams the half-awake soldier. But his old friend won't listen. He could hardly be called a dwarf anymore, towering over the depot with muscles big as wood logs. his normal sized crossbow looks like a toy, in the hands of such a giant. Despite his newfound size, the mutated marksdwarf has lost none of his shooting skills.
Tackleberry tries to stop the beast, but he falls quickly enough. His body is shot repeatedly, falling back into a comatose state.
Reinforcements show up. The monster is swiftly dealt with, but a child has fallen victim to his crossbow fire. Miraculously, Tackleberry lives, and his inert, bleeding body is rushed to the hospital at long last.
The captain's widow dispatches some of the soldiers to deal with a marauding mutated gibbon nearby, and others to the caverns, where hungry heads are harassing the miners.
To continue Pisskop's plans, the miners have been dispatched in the caverns, where hematite veins have been located.
Soon enough, a large trail is extracted, and the furnace operators get to work. At least the workers are skilled enough not to extract every cinnabar vein they find anymore...
Zaneg still prepares for the worst. The crypts are outfitted with new coffins, so that the fallen dwarves may be given a proper burial, instead of lying down in the dump pile with ogres and banshees.
The messengers bring word of a mysterious creature, a blob of water stalking the underground lake. Zaneg panics for a moment, until someone explains that a feverish alpaca is acting as bait, should the creature ever get out of the water. ...Okay?
And that's when the miners report something peculiar... something extraordinary. something that's better than steel.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Deep underground, I found a half-dug exploratory tunnel, with an unfinished part. At the end of the tunnel was a designated staircase down. I told the miners to resume work, and they stumbled right into the adamantine spire. This is not a coincidence. Someone has been using hacks to reveal the map and find the spire. Shame on you, guys, shame on you.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Guided by some mysterious insciptions in the stone, the miners have located the most precious, blessed and accursed metal in creation. Adamantine. They strike the cyan ore, and immediately discover something else. A magma sea that's on the same level. Three of them are consumed by the magma immediately, and the flames engulf the top of the spire. A dream that would not be.
A bad day for mining experience, but a great day for geology.
The faces are fleeting. Hazy. One of them seems familliar.
-Taupe?
-Yes.
-Am I dreaming?
-Yes and no. The spire. It is your only hope. When you wake up.
-Am I asleep?
-No. you are... gone. But you will return. Your body is weak, and your spirit is wandering.
-I don't understand.
-You will, when you wake up. Time will be short then. Every minute will count. If you fail, Clobbermountain will fail.
-Nothing makes sense!''Captain?'' The voice was closer. Everything was moving so fast. Like it was a dream. One second, she was learning of adamantine. The next one it was already out of their reach. To make things worse, someone was giving names to copper weaponry, just to further drive the point home.
''Yes, I get it, you are still using copper, and we need better.
-Captain, are you ok?''
Faces, different faces, the fort is blurry, then suddenly time is moving too fast. Orders are being given. she is the one giving them.
''I said, the enemy is upon us!
-Yes, right. Get everyone outside. Get ready to strike fast, and strike hard.''
They can't give the banshees a single second. The fight is blurry. Everything moves so fast. She's made of jelly. The banshees are made of jelly.
''Krypta, you're made of jelly, ahahah!
-Captain, what?''
It sounds like they are winning. everything is so blurry. Everyone is soft and mellow and made of jelly. Her crossbow is melting, her mind is melting. People are cheering. It sounds like they won. The fever. Stupid fever, stupid banshees.
-We won.
She is back home, after the fight. In their big, giant overseer room that they got carved. Taupe had it made after he became overseer, right after Flint died. It's so beautiful. her husband is there.
-Honey, I said we won. It was wonderful.
-I think you are still feverish. You are getting things confused.
-No, I'm not. I lead the army, I defeated the siege. His gaundiness was right to choose...
-You see now.
-He chose me.
-I am dead. I never became overseer.
-But...
-It's the fever. you are mixing things up. reliving the latest moments before you fell. We are at the part where you give the order.
-The order...?
-If you don't, everyone will die.
-I don't...
-You'll wake up soon. It will make sense. You must remember what you must do.
-What order!The cheers are morphing. Everyone is screaming. Dying. Stupid fever. She can't make much of it. She tries to move, but she falls to her knees.
''I got your back, captain!'' says the strange, peasantly voice of Jeff. She passes out.
-You are skipping ahead. you forgot to give the order.
-That's... yes, the order. I forgot about that.''Oh lord, oh lord, oh Armok save us all, says Urist.
-Evacuate the injured and the feverish, everyone else edefend the gates and secure their escape!
-Even you captain?
-No, I... I stay. We fight.''
Her head is shaky, and she'll pass out anytime soon. She gives the orders, to defend the fort and evacuate. She knows she won't make it back inside, so she'll fight instead. there are too many. Too many, too soon. the last ogre has just fallen. They are broken, scattered, exhausted, injured. Many have been knocked down by the banshees. They cannot win this fight, but they don't have time to retreat.
-I gave the orders.
-Not this one. She can't keep her eyes open. She wants to fight, but she can't. She wants to run, but she can't. She wants to fall asleep, but she
can't. If she falls, Clobbermountain falls. There is an order. she must give the order. Around her, people are dying.
It's a massacre. the spawn are too many, too tough. The injured dwarves cannot injure them. The feverish dwarves cannot even fend them off. Some want to flee, but they've been beaten. If they run inside, and turn, there will be nobody to stop them. They can't...
''Do it.
-But captain, we...''
''Do it. Pull the lever.''
She has just sealed their fate. The fortress is sealed shut. They cannot go back.
THEY cannot get in. She wants to sleep. she knows she cannot wake up, will not wake up. She'll die where she stands. Hopefully, she'll be remembered as the one who saved the civilians, not the one who doomed the soldiers.
''It's better than a hammering, I guess''.''I got your back, captain!'' says the strange, peasantly voice of Jeff. She passes out.
The gate is raised, sealing Clobbermountain in, for what it,s worth. The death screams are muffled by the mettalic barrier, yet it's hard to ignore what's going on on the surface. Dwarven halls are pretty good at this whole ''echo'' thing.
The clouds of mist return, sweeping over the battlefield. Spawn or smoke, the soldiers taking place in the banshee siege were doomed regardless. With the way back denied to them, the soldiers fight with recklessness and abandon. Some even turn back and willingly embrace the morphing clouds, hoping that in their rampaging insanity, they'll prove better at murdering spawns. It doesn't matter. Nothing can stop the invading force.
As the mist vanishes from the jungle, nothing but corpses remain on the battlefield. some of them are ogres, banshees, gibbons and pithons. Many are dwarves, mutated or distorted. And many more appear to be dead, fleshy abominations, yet they walk. The spawn are victorious. Some of the fallen twitch and shake, their body morphing into yet more gaping mouths. The infected dwarves have joined the ranks of the Hollistic Spawns.
The screams are turning into fits of rage, bangs, fighting sounds. not the war type, just casual violence. Some cry, some howl, some simply argue.
-What's going on?
-This is the fortress. You are in a coma, but you'll wake up soon.The fortress is in disarray. Many start tantruming. With each report of a missing dwarf, more families break into tears, or start infighting. Those who made it inside the gate before the second siege are carried downstairs.
She can hear noises. New people around her. she hear them, but she can't see them. All she can see is a blurry tunnel, covered in smoke. Her dead husband is walking with her in the depth of the earth. Except he doesn't seem dead, nor mutated. Light shines amidst the smoke, cyan and soothing, but here and there, she can see swirls of red and black, like tendrils trying to force their way into her mind.
-You'll wake up soon. Do you remember what happened?
-The banshees, then the spawn. I ordered everyone to stand their ground, and sealed the fort shut. The army is dead, or unconscious. Jeff... Jeff carried me inside, I remember. Is that... this sounds like the king.
-Focus, we don't have much time.
-The spawn, they are outside. we can't get out, we can't fight them. We could bunker up, I guess, but...
-But the banshees will return. When they do, they will end this fortress. It is but a shaky thing waiting for the final blow.
-We can't fight them. We can't go outside. But we can't let them live. It is too late to make a magma device. Too clumsy.
-There is a way. You've heard the tales. You know the legends.
-This is madness.
-We have no other choice. nothing else can reach the banshees now. You must hurry, for their next siege will be the last.
Captain.
Captain
Zaneg.
Taupe?''Captain.''The voice is coming from outside, this time. The world is no longer shaking. She's in... the hospital?
''Captain!'' repeats the voice, until she turns her head and ackowledges it.
''You have a lot of explaining to do'', urges His Gaudiness.