I guess that I should put a map up too. <Sigh> This story occurs at the original dig down point; it is now more or less a moated tower. I put the main entrance and the fort several levels down.
Foxtrot’s Morning
Foxtrot really enjoyed the morning sunrise. Whenever he could, the soldier would sneak off to watch it. In this section, the staircases were not used normally. To protect them, they were surrounded by a moat. The drawbridge was kept raised but could be raised quickly from a nearby lever. There was a bit of a wall by the moat, but it had never been finished. The staircase itself had its very own defensive wall. Never mind the fact that is had an open section that was big enough for two zefies to walk though abreast. Foxtrot wondered why these upper defenses had never really been finished.
As Foxtrot was enjoying the sunrise he looked over all of the lands. It seemed beautiful. There was the forest to the south. It seemed sort of sad that the zefies had to take so much of the woods for their own use. Yet, despite Woodswalker aggressive deforestation campaign, the forest was still huge. Even in the cleared areas, saplings were sprouting and flourishing. Life was resilient.
Were the zefies like the trees? Even though the assorted tribes had been broken, could the people stay strong? The problem was not with the zefies. Individual workers were the most productive in the world. A trained zefie soldier was more than the match for a goblin raider. The problem was a lack of organization. The goblins could field large enough armies to destroy the zefie settlements. The surviving zefies formed refugee camps and tried to build new settlements. The goblins destroyed them. It was a vicious cycle. The combined power of the assorted remaining zefie tribes might be enough to end the goblin threat once and for all, but they could never work together. So death was the result.
Could Boltcraft be the end? A strong fortress wear the weary masses of the zefie nations could rebuild? Foxtrot knew that as his home grew, war would follow. The green masses would come to murder and pillage. What would happen then? In his last home, Foxtrot had still been young; he couldn’t do a thing then. The young zefie hefted his crossbow and thought. When they come, they shall die by my bolts . . .
As Foxtrot was making a solemn promise to himself, another was walking up the stairs. Foxtrot heard the soft footsteps and whispered to himself, “Why would anyone else come up here? It doesn’t lead to anywhere or have anything. Could it be a thief trying to escape?”
The soldier readied his weapon. Warthog Armorplanes walked up the stairs and said, “Oh, hi Foxtrot! How are you doing? Did Snoopicus order you up here to protect me? We are perfectly safe here you know.”
“I was up here to watch the sunrise.”
“Oh, I was sent to figure out what type of grate we should install for this wall. It’s sad. I’m trained as a metal smith and I come from a line of armorers, but I never get to do anything except make bars and odd jobs. I wish that I could be busy more often you know. Mind if I sit with you? I have nothing else to do.”
“Hmmph.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
The gray sashed zefies promptly plopped down next to Foxtrot. “Say, can I call you Fox?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“If you want to see the inside of the chasm.”
“Okay.”
The two bored zefies talked for awhile. Actually, Warthog said things and the sniper mage affirmative or negative grunts. The conversation ranged from groundhogs to waterfalls to how easy and fun it was to annoy mayor Zulban. Warthog was just talking about the bits of inspiration that had been striking zefies in Boltcraft when Foxtrot gurgled.
It was the loudest thing that Foxtrot had said in a while, so Warthog looked over at him. The sniper zefie was staring at his midsection. Foxtrot simply stated, “I guess I’m sort of hungry.”
Suddenly, there was another set of footsteps echoing up the staircase. Could this be the thief? Endok, one of the founders of Boltcraft blinked in the morning sunlight. The kindly farmer sat herself between the two. “Isn’t this a nice spot to sit? I would have been here for the sunrise, but when I heard someone, I decided to grab us some breakfast. Have a strawberry crumpet you two.” Foxtrot and Warthog grabbed one of the still warm crumpets and started munching. “Let me see here. You’re Warthog Armorplanes. You, young sniper are, uuuhhhhh, let me think. Foxtrot right? What’s your first name Fox?”
Warthog and Foxtrot stopped eating. They turned and looked at Endok. Awkward silence reigned. The disquieted farmer tried again to be friendly, “Okay you two, how about a story? This tale took place right on this spot about a year and a half ago . . .”
Coming soon, ‘The First Ambush’
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Topic: Zefie Fortress: What do you mean, Bismuth!?[Community] (Read 5669 times)