Fath smiled a hopeless smile as he stood before the glass walls. Time seemed to slow around him and a concentrated silence emerged within the dwarven defenders as the demons continued to crash the gates in front of them. The juxtaposition between the raging cacophony outside and the sudden stillness inside had an eerie impacted atmosphere of importance that was peculiar in its uncertainty. All dwarven eyes turned to Fath standing silently at the artifact door, back slightly hunched with a burden that ignored physical age but listened to an emotional one.
Slowly the dwarves defending the walls stopped what they were doing and turned towards him with a frightened expectation. Surely there was nothing he could do on his own to turn back the demon army. In their heart of hearts they had realized what the demons possessed: a will and lifespan to outlast them. It didn’t mean they would give up, but facing an enemy that time cannot defeat becomes increasingly futile. The knowledge of this would weigh down any combatant, increments of sand that slowly buries the determined and talented in a grave of consistent inevitability. The depth of the grave never matters and neither do the contents after a while.
The weight of Fath’s heart dragged behind him as he forced himself towards the battle. He had come to hate war and would rather see the world live harmoniously, but that was never an option here - Archcrystal, a monument that spat in the face of inevitable time while time simply nodded and smiled knowingly. But Fath knew that moments like this were why he lived, why anyone did, as they condensed the immense design of things into what mattered, or at least split what had to matter and what ultimately must not. He wondered if he had the will to do what he ultimately must. This was not hell, Fath thought, hell is made by minds and hearts who know compassion and charity but choose to bring misery and suffering. There would be no misery like that which he could bring, and it was a choice to do so despite knowing and feeling the opposite. It was a curse that was cruel and viscous by the decision to do it in spite of the sympathy and grace that could be given otherwise.
As Fath raised his hand to shudder the dead to animate another hand grasped his wrist. Surprised, he slowly turned his head to see who would defy him, his ego driving a self imposed status to wonder what dared to disturb his moment that he had forced himself to believe was inevitable and profound.
It was Meng the catatonic and insane apprentice of Edzul the great late mathematician. Years before she had attempted to compile all of Edzul Ironsword’s teachings into a codex. Shortly after starting her work she was found sitting on the floor of the library staring off into space unblinking and unspeaking. They placed her into a cell where they fed and cared for her, thinking that she may never speak again - until now.
“No” she forced out as she clutched Fath’s wrist. It was the first word she had spoken in years and it carried a weight despite its mouse-like pitch. “No” she repeated and her eyes focused this time instead of looking through him at some imaginary point miles away. Fath recoiled reflexively and looked on her as anyone else did. The absence of kindness was burning bright in his state but her urgency made him stop.
“No” she repeated again and again and tilted her head. Fath paused for long enough to consider her meaning for the first explosion to pierce his ears. Mine carts filled with lead coins dropped from their newly finished settings to travel at break neck speeds and then come to a sudden stop at the fortifications releasing their deadly cargo into the demonic assembly who stared at it with unknowing comprehension.
The missiles they had created tore through everything in front of them, whether they spit, webbed, or breathed fire. There’s no other sound like a demon from hell screaming for its life as it is ripped apart by projectiles travelling at a thousand meters per second. Pieces of their flesh exploded off them as they writhed back and forth during the infinite rain of metal bullets that blew apart the slade walls behind them. Piercing and melodic, the demonic cries of agony split the stale air of the underworld as the dwarves prepared to fire the collective hearts of their ancestral labour forth into them - a weapon born of their industry and passion and profound history. While the demons had learned patience from the dwarves, the dwarves had learned to pour their malice into the technological terrors they invented, and while it would have reciprocal effects far in the future, the dwarves of Archcrystal yet again held the acme of delivering efficient and horrifying death and destruction to their enemies.
The demons attempted to counter attack by holding the dead bodies of their fallen up as shields as they again rushed the entrance en mass. But the large groups they clustered in made perfect targets for the arrays of hundreds of lead ammunition that fired continuously into them without discrimination. The repeated mechanisms of the mine carts ensured a steady rhythm of casualty and fatality, and the torn sinew and muscle of those invaders caught in their metal kill zone emitted from the fortifications without reprieve. Steady streams of targets continued to march forth from their ranks but were mowed down by the physics of dwarven automation that exploded from the glass ramparts, reliable in its constant and unrelenting drumbeat of mechanical death. The new masters of Hell were cold and metallic, and the fear of fire and brimstone were rendered obsolete.
An hour later the battlefield in front of Archcrystal lay silent, the smoking ruins of the dead demons, counted by the thousands, were an inspiring and horrible reminder that the meaning of hell had changed forever - from a monstrous population of demonic creatures into a callous race of mortals who could care, but decided not to.
***
14th of Moonstone, Year 542
470th Year of Archcrystal
The Final Gathering
Sultrangris had packed his meager belongings and was ready for his long journey to Archcrystal. The neighbouring elves were constantly harassing his local hillocks and he had finally had enough. The elves justified their raids by saying that the war machine of Archcrystal was destroying the land in its constant reach outwards for territory. But it was the same “land” that nearly killed his ancestors with beasts, and poisonous plants, and infectious diseases until they had finally carved out a small home in the hills. He had decided that the ambivalent land deserved its reckoning. Let the war machine scorch the unforgiving plants and animals, he preferred to live underground anyways. Sultangris started walking and made sure to step on any flowers he could.
***
Euler was tired of being conscripted into the military to defend his dwarven fortress of Questedceiling. A scholar at heart he yearned to discuss and study mathematics and he knew that most of the literature on the subject came from the capital of Archcrystal, now the political, intellectual, and geographical Center of the world. Copies of Edzul Ironsword’s glass codexes had made their way to his fortress and he was ravenous to read more. Living in hell did not scare him as long as there were books to read. So he began his journey to the crystal spire full of hope and ambition, with his sights set on unlocking the secrets of the world.
***
Gitzo the local sheriff ran a tight ship at his fortress of Tinbucks, to put it lightly. He felt that he understood that order was the purest form of existence and that cruelty was the purest form of order, so much so that his punishments were terrible and quick. But he also felt that his methods were unappreciated here. He had heard stories of the famous sheriff of Archcrystal, Doren Lashgrooved, and he made the decision to immigrate. He packed his steel whip and other instruments of justice and set out alone to join the fortress guard. He fantasized of torturing horrible truths out of a demon and this gave him an exhilarating bounce to his step as he traveled.
((Just a quick note before I finish the chapter. If anyone else wants a named migrant dwarf for the finale, I’ll be writing them in over the next couple of weeks as they travel from the corners of the world to Archcrystal.))
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Topic: Archcrystal: 500 years in a fortress [SPOILERS] Finished (Read 494601 times)