13th of Timber, 1050
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Slowly Daedalus worked the rusted stone over a molten fire, and slowly the rust came together. The particles flowed together as the stone melted, individual yet cohesive. The glowing metal cooled, cooled as the hours passed, but still a cold gleam emanated from the bar. The metal was... wrong. Its surface twisted, pitted as the bar cooled, fading to a sickly green lustre, still gleaming with a strange phosphorescence.
Working this stuff would be a nightmare.
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1st of Moonstone, 1050
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The air bit cold, the land shone with frost. Winter was come, and the Grim Jungle paid it no heed.
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4th of Moonstone, 1050
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Now she'd properly sampled the marble, Scourge began to quarry in earnest, extracting great deposits of rusted metal from the surrounding stone.
Soon, she vowed, the hammerdwarves would fit themselves in fearsome armor indeed.
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10th of Moonstone, 1050
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Methylatedspirit drilled with quiet competence, practicing over and over the techniques Atir had invented with him. Atir watched, and grinned a sinister grin, and deemed her soldier ready.
*WHONK*
"Ow!"
"Defend," said Atir, grinning wide with hammer raised.
*WHONK*
"OW!"
*WHONK*
"Cut it out!"
*WHONK*
"No really, stop!"
*WHONK*
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18th of Moonstone, 1050
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Twelve bars of rusted metal gleamed dark in the smelters. It was time, Daedalus decided, to see what armor might be made of them.
The metal heated slowly, slower than steel, becoming workable only when any earthly metal would have melted. Even then, Daedalus could shape it only with long hours of labor, beating it into shape with strong blows of the hammer. The stuff seemed to fight him, twisting out of shape with a mind of its own. Daedalus forged and reforged, and slowly the metal smoothed, flattened, took on a new form and a new light... and at last, it was armor.
The mail glowed foul, with an evil light trapped by the heat and hammer. It was loathsome, and yet... magnificient.
Atir would be pleased.
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27th of Moonstone, 1050
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Solitarian had been griping lately about her quarters-- a queen, she said, should have better. Scourge had just about finished with her quarry-work for now, and so decided to try and alleviate the situation somewhat.
It seemed a little unfair for a single dwarf to claim such sumptuous accomodations, but it wouldn't do, Scourge figured, for Solitarian to be unhappy. She was surprisingly useful around the fortress, for all her demands.
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28th of Moonstone, 1050
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One by one the dwarves of Dawnthunder wandered into the dining hall. Daedalus stood at the end of the hall, a stub of smokerock in his hand.
"We are all here? Good," said Daedalus. "I call you here with new orders, and a new Vision."
Scourge glowered. This "vision" thing was getting old.
Daedalus pretended not to notice. "We have been trapped down here like rats in a hole. Only Dodok's hatchwork preserves us from the horrors of the Grim Jungle. We can't access our own wagon, and the caravan cannot reach us with its own wagons. Every migrant that arrives here trudges through horrors innumerable, and sees what? A wagon and a hatch cover! And they run a gauntlet of terror to reach that hatch cover, hoping against hope that the sparrows won't notice!"
The migrants nodded solemnly. Their arrival had not been an easy one.
"And what," cried Daedalus, "of the goblins? They will find us, I promise you that, and they will come with their trolls to beat down the wood of our protection! No! No! We cannot, we will not continue this way!"
The dwarves murmured. The goblins were many, the goblins were fierce. It would not do to meet them unprepared.
Daedalus smiled, and said: "Now then. I have recieved my Vision. We will claim the surface for our own: a little at first, but more in years to come. The migrants will come, and they will see dwarven stone before them, and dwarven warriors to meet them. Such will be our glory."
Atir grunted, approving. The words were meet.
"How will we do this?" said Daedalus. "Like so!" With that, he began to scrawl quick plans across the wall.
"I spoke with Dodok some weeks back. She's been chiselling blocks of slate nonstop ever since; we have hundreds in storage. They are heavy, but you will find them far easier to move than boulders. Haul them quickly, set them well, and be prepared to return to the safety of the underground should the wildlife prove too dangerous. Do not panic, or you will surely die. Work quickly, and you will triumph over the land and our glory shall be eternal. So shall it be done."
And so the work begun. Furiously the dwarves labored, hauling stone day and night-- for they knew the Grim Jungle would not suffer their presence long.
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3rd of Opal, 1050
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Five days after construction began, the jungle sent its first champion.
The scout lay dead, but the jungle had stronger beasts than a mere owl to hurl at Dawnthunder's growing walls.
The beast had not sighted the masonries... yet. Furiously the dwarves labored.
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8th of Opal, 1050
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Tiny hooves, wide eyes that did not blink. The jungle had turned the dwarves' own beast against them.
The dwarves scurried inside. Atir did not wish to engage this strange foe until her squadmate was properly armored, though Daedalus ground his teeth at the delay.
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19th of Opal, 1050
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Now things had calmed a bit up topside, Scourge had a chance to finish up Solitarian's chambers properly.
Very nice. Solitarian would be pleased at the improvement, even if it was but a small one.
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1st of Obsidian, 1050
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By the unceasing labors of Daedalus, Methyl now stood fearsome in a harness of rusted plate. Atir deemed him fit for war, and the two set forth to wrest the construction site from their dimunitive but potent enemy...
Their sparring paid off. The reindeer collasped swiftly, beaten down by a relentless onslaught of bronze.
The hatch was thrown open once more; Daedalus declared the construction work unsuspended. Furiously the dwarves labored.
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2nd of Obsidian, 1050
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The wall was complete, the wall stood strong. The dwarves rejoiced, and Dodok ascended to replace the temporary door with a mighty gate, fit to repel even the strongest of foes.
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8th of Obsidian, 1050
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A harsh cry sounded far above. Frustrated at the blindness of its champion, the jungle had sent one last enemy, to fly over the walls and assail the dwarves within. Atir rushed with her soldiers to do battle, her face a terrifying visage behind the rusted visor.
Atir had killed ravens as a novice. They meant nothing to her now.
The hammers swung, the bones crumbled. Lowering her weapon, Atir surveyed the landscape. "Are all safe?"
"Mmph," grunted Likot, her face marred by long gashes. "I think one... knocked me out somehow? Clawed my head up good, anyway. I'm okay... wouldn't mind one of those fancy helmets, though."
No other dwarf bore wounds. Somewhat shaken by the sudden attack, Dodok resumed her work on the gate.
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11th of Obsidian, 1050
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After long hours of stonework, the gate was completed, a lever fit to it with Solitarian's cunning mechanisms. The lever was pulled, and the gear ground as the bridge rose, sealing shut just as some decaying emus-- foul foot soldiers of the jungle-- were about to investigate.
Dawnthunder was safe once more. Daedalus marked the beginnings of a roof for construction.
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13th of Obsidian, 1050
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"EEYAAAH"
"Wait,
Scourge-- WHAT ARE YOU--"
"
Pull that lever!" shrieked Solitarian down the stairway. "Scourge is out there!"
Thikut bolted for the lever. "How'd she even get outside the keep?!"
"I dunno!" yelled Solitarian. "Jumped the wall? HANG ON SCOURGE, WE'RE COMING--"
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If a dwarf wasn't at stake, Atir would never have sounded the charge. Too dangerous. Enemies too strong, too numerous.
But Scourge was fighting for her life out there.
Nothing else mattered.---------------------------------------------------------------------------
For all its reek and horror and decay, the Grim Jungle for a millenium had been a place of peace-- the peace of the grave. The undead do not fight amongst themselves. Perhaps a goblin strayed now and again into the woods, and the jungle claimed it, and again the jungle subsided, the goblin now one of its own.
Fury like this the jungle had not known in all its days.
For a long and fearful year, the dwarves of the White Hammer had cowered in their hole as prey.
Now they were the predators.
Now the Grim Jungle belonged to
them.---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Clawed and bruised, Scourge stood proud over the corpses of her enemies, her pick slaked in blood. With head held high, she walked on her own two feet back into the fortress, allowing no dwarf to aid her.
Solitarian took it upon herself to tend Scourge's injuries, but Scourge would have none of it-- her shoulder was fine, she said, just fine. What she really needed, she said, was a good drink.
A true dwarf.
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1st of Granite, 1050
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Daedalus had been thinking hard these past weeks, and had come to a realization: his Vision lived. Dawnthunder stood. That had been Daedalus' task, and now it was done, and he need no longer have a hand in it.
It was time, Daedalus decided, another dwarf take the command around here, and so guide Dawnthunder to greater glory. Atir could do it, maybe. Or Dodok. Or one of the migrants. It didn't really matter, so long as it was a dwarf with a bright passion and a bold Vision.
As for Daedalus... well, there was an awful lot of armor to forge. There'd be more soldiers to equip soon, after all.
The migrants would be coming.
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Scourge, I don't know what to say. You apparently decided those emus needed to die
right then and there, and... well. You made that happen. I don't even
know how you made it over the wall with the gate shut... it was certainly impressive tho.