Speak softly, dwarf, (but not as softly as an elf)
Say one wrong word and I might strangle you myself
We're in a world of Armok's own,
And we'll have riches few have ever known
Wine-flooded days deep in the earth,
We'll let no siege delay our mirth
Speak softly, dwarf, so none can hear us but the Giant Eagles sky,
Our mines are deep, our dwarves are stout, our towers high
We live short lives, but that's because
Despite all else, we're governed by our flawsThe room was darkly lit; a single shaft of torchlight cast just enough illumination on the two dwarves seated across from each other that they could make out the features of one anothers' faces.
"I believe in the mountainhomes," Started the first dwarf. "The mountainhomes have made my fortune. And I raised my daughter in the dwarven fashion; on booze. She found a boyfriend, an engraver. One day a miner accidentally destroyed one of his engravings. And what did he do? He beat my daughter, like an animal."
The speaker began to sob. The other dwarf motioned to a shadowy figure nearby, who quickly brought a stone mug of beer over and set it on the marble table between them.
"Sorry. I.. I went to the Fortress Guard, like a good dwa--"
But he never finished his story. Without warning, the door to the room burst open, revealing three dwarves holding upraised crossbows. A rain of bolts punched through the unsuspecting speaker before he had time to scream, and a fine red mist of blood settled over the desk and chair. The two figures in the dark corners of the room quickly returned fire, while the dwarf still seated at the other side of the desk, miraculously unharmed, stood and charged towards the attackers. Within moments two lay dead at his feet, while the third ran down the long torchlit hall away from him. Back in the room one of his guards lay bleeding to death on the floor; the other, sporting a nasty wound in one of his legs, limped over.
"Boss.. you okay?"
Panting, Ast 'The Hatchet' Bloodpillar wiped the blood on his axe-blade off with a silk kerchief. "Yeah. Get a hold of the boys and let them know we're making a move. This place has gotten too hot."
The guard nodded, then began limping off in the opposite direction that last attacker had fled in. Ast closed and locked the door, then moved over to his bloodstained desk and sat back down. It was going to be a long day.
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Why a Mafia-themed fortress? Why not, I say!
Available:
Associates - Join with immigrant waves.
Available Positions:
Associate
So, what I need from you, good people:
-Name
-Weapon-affinity (If your dwarf doesn't come trained in its use, they'll be trained eventually)
Out of the following three stats, choose one at 'Below Average', one at 'Good', and one at 'Exceptional':
-Loyalty (Are you trustworthy?)
-Moxy (Do you have
the right stuff?)
-Guts (Are you a mouse, or a dwarf?)
Migrants will be admitted to the fortress as
Associates. They may, in time, prove themselves worthy of becoming Made Dwarves.
Author
Topic: Etägbemòng: Omerta In The Deep (Read 5567 times)