Summer 303: Part 1
Excerpts from
Collected Logs of the year 303 by Iyathi "Archereon" Awemedinade:
16th Hematite, 303:
While I would've scarcely believed it possible near the start of the year, the situation here in Bloodyhells is starting to look up. With the major breach into the aquifer plugged, I've opted to dissemble the screw pump; perhaps we'll find a use for the parts later, but where it is, it's just getting in the way. Spish found some wheelbarrows somewhere, and he and I spent several weeks bringing as many chunks of metal ore as we could locate down to an impromptu ore stockpile that was dug out by Flame, NCommander and Zuglarkun over the past week or so. With just the five of us, it's been relatively easy to coordinate labor efficiently; at any given moment; the past few weeks have been almost exclusively dedicated to hauling supplies down to the fortress depths, with no more than one or two of the miners working on digging out the place at any given time. According to Flame, we should expect some newcomers about a month from now, and if there's to be any hope of them getting down here alive, we'll need to find some way to lure the numerous undead away from one of the fortress's major entrances. Given virtually all the fortress's livestock has perished however, that doesn't seem likely to be an option any time soon. With the arrival of migrants expected in the relatively near future, another matter has come up, namely that of leadership; with Mayor Zefon having absconded, the distribution of titles and responsibilities has been severely neglected, and while the ad-hoc rule by committee that currently governs the fortress works well enough with five people, we've agreed that, under the admittedly optimistic assumption that any of the migrants survive the journey, a greater degree of organization shall be necessary. During tomorrow night's meal, we will be holding a vote for the currently vacant office of Mayor.
17th Hematite, 303
Something altogether unexpected has happened today. While the work of the day was the same old hauling that's taken up the greater part of the month, the evening was something everyone was looking forwards to. While initially I had intended to abstain from the vote for Mayor, Flame insisted I cast a vote. Because of the distinct possibility of a tie, it was decided in advance that a coin flip would be used to broker such an outcome, and, after writing our choices on scraps of abandoned parchment found in the upper fortress, we gave them to Flame to read allowed. My own vote was a toss up between Spish and Flame, but in the end, I chose the former, I can only assume out of the decent rapport that had developed between us in the months since we arrived. The final tally was as follows:
- Archereon: 2 votes
- Flame: 1 vote
- NCommander: 0 votes
- Spish: 2 votes
- Zuglarkun: 0 votes
That I was even in the running came as a shock, and according to the agreed upon procedure, the tie between myself and Spish was to be decided by a coin flip. The coin, provided by Flame was a rather worn piece of copper engraved with the image of a dwarf wearing a crown on the front—the current dwarven monarch—and the seal of the Kingdom of Suvaszan on the reverse. Spish called heads, and the toss itself was carried out by Flame. When the coin landed on tails, all eyes were on me.
"I'll do my best not to let you down." was the first thing that came to mind.
Excerpt from
Visions of the Abyss: The Early Years of Bloodyhells by Iyathi "Archereon" Awemedinade:
My first act as mayor was to preemptively dole out the titles necessary to the functioning of the fortress; Spish was probably the best fighter of us all, having prior experience using both axes and maces, apparently having fought in the King's army prior to arriving at Bloodyhells, making him the obvious choice for militia commander. The role of chief medical dwarf was another obvious choice; Flame has prior experience as a physician, and thus she became our head physician. The position of broker was after a bit of thought, delegated to NCommander; none of us have a background in bartering, but NCommander seemed interested, which was about as good as I could hope for. As for manager and bookeeper, I understand that the two positions are, in many cases consolidated into one, and being the most learned person in the fortress at the time, I felt most comfortable doing them personally.
Knowing that there would likely be migrants coming in malachite, the next order of business was clearing a route so that at least some of them would survive. Thus, we opened the southern airlock, in the hopes of luring the undead away from central hatch entrance. Things went almost too well; the undead swarmed through the now open gate by the dozens, there number including several husks. Unfortunately, they did not content themselves with hunting the few remaining living animals on the farming level of the fort; most continued onwards, taking the very same path that Flame and I used to recover the anvil. Working with the single-minded determination of cornered animals, we set to work erecting a barricade. If the creatures breached out sanctuary at the tavern, we would be cut off from the surface entirely.
We almost succeeded.
A lone corpse, faster than the others made it through. NCommander and Flame, who were working at the time, scattered, with Spish standing his ground, prepared to fight, despite Spish not having a weapon at the time. While Spish struggled valiantly against the odds, his foe was tireless, and indifferent to the numerous petty blows they traded. As I sprinted to the top of the stairs, seeing the pair engaged in a grapple, the corpse twisted Spish's arm, which emitted a sickening crack almost as loud as his scream of pain. Spish fell to the ground, incapacitated, and the corpse began pummeling him, splattering Spish's blood across the still damp floor. Sprinting as fast as I could, I closed the gap with the creature. Distracted as it was by its victim, my swing was true, cleaving the corpse's head in two. It crumpled to the ground, and did not stir. Unsure whether Spish was alive or dead and hearing the groaning of the rest of the horde, I hurried to plug the small gap in the barricade that the corpse had crawled through. Only when I was sure we were no longer in danger of being overrun did I see to Spish. Despite the heavy bleeding, he was still breathing. Flame rounded the corner then, having seemingly regained her nerve. Together, we brought Spish to the makeshift infirmary that had been set up in the tavern.
"Alright then. At least you're not bleeding out now." Said Flame. Working with the speed of an expert in her craft, she had cleaned and dressed Spish's wounds. He had regained consciousnses shortly after we relocated him to the tavern, and now lay on one of the cots, trying desperately not to look at his right arm.
"Good to hear!" Grunted Spish through gritted teeth. "That hurt like all hell!"
"It's about to get worse I'm afraid." Said Flame. "You need surgery, and fast, otherwise you're never going to use that arm again."
"I'll grab the liquor." I offered, starting towards the Pantry.
"Make sure its something strong." Said Flame.