(No screens, sadly, I didn't think about sharing this story until it was nearly complete)
Cerol Palecrafts had heard the tales all his life.
King's Gold, some said, adamantine, said others, hidden away, deep withing the mountains. A mythical substance that gave the dwarf that wrought it an infinite power to rival the gods themselves sealed away in the darkest depths.
Seasoned miners laughed at such tales. Indeed, many adventurous sorts had rushed back to the kingdom with carts full of kings gold that, on inspection, was always simple galeena.
Cerol chose the location carefully. It was warm and foresty; he knew THEY would be there. For his companions, he took 6 other worthless, skilless dwarves like him. Dwarves that would not be missed. The king, much to Cerol's outrage, refused to grant the ill-fated expedition any more than a pick and a wagon.
Upon reaching the site, Cerol smiled brightly. He pointed to a herd of THEM over in the distance, and said to his companions
"Kill those beasts. Their weakness is their ivory horns, which can be easily pulled out of their sockets. Once you bring them down, take them to the mountain. We can butcher them and have food enough for many years."
"And you, Cerol?"
"I..." Cerol paused and lifted the pick "will be building the larder"
And so, his companions formed a rag-tag militia and went off to hunt the elephants.
The fools.
He turned to the king's scribe.
"This fortress shall be named Paddledmountain!"
"Paddled... mountain?"
"Yes. Now go inform the king operations will be up and running by the end of this year."
Paddledmountain, what a stupid, terrible name. A doomed fortress, run by the most unable dwarves, no one would ever visit; Cerol doubted the king would even admit its existence, much less bother to check up on it.
He was wrong.
A dwarf caravan arrived later that year, to bring aid to Paddledmountain, and observe their progress.
"This place is so feral" muttered an axedwarf as he sunk his weapon into a bonobo.
A little while later, the traders were ushered in to a cramped trade depot that seemed to have been built in less than an hour - the traders were nervous that it would collapse under the weight of their goods.
Cerol quickly built doors and locked them shut to seal in his new guests, and furiously went to work on some new tunnels. By winter, the merchants were starved, and half mad. They murdered each other for food, that is, until the flood came and drowned them all out.
After that, the caravans came like clockwork every year, not caring that the previous ones had never been seen again. The humans also sent their traders, but their fates were no better than those of the dwarves.
The years flew by, and built the beginnings of his empire, carefully engraving himself a wondrous dining hall and bedroom, setting traps for the local wildlife and any invaders, and collecting raw materials to further his expedition. He forged himself a mighty crossbow, and trained himself in the ways of the marksdwarf - an elvish art for sure, but an effective one. He must be ready, for as emphatically as the stories stressed the power of King's Gold, they told horrid tales of the demons who guarded it. Crossing bottomless pit, and fiery river, he at last found himself ready. The fortifications carved, the doors and lever ready, he felt it was finally time.
And So It Began
(DF movie file, put in your /data/movies folder to view)
At the end of it all, though, there was one thing Cerol was not prepared for...
:p
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Topic: Paddledmountain (Read 847 times)