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[Paulus Fahlstrom]

(Previous post has been modified to include the images of the battle)

Early Winter, year 19

Her breath rose around her in a frosty cloud as she sat astride the unicorn that bore her. All around her the others, unicorn and avar alike stood steaming in the snow and brush. The ground was frozen solid already but the snow had not yet gotten deep and their travel had been relatively swift. Before them, ugly and grey stood the stone skull-keep of the defiled. The home of the fallen dwarves, who, they could only assume, had been turned by their foes of old. Or perhaps things much worse.

Fiya had told her of this place, but until she saw it up close it was hard to believe. Warm air from beneath had warmed the structure sufficiently that no snow remained on top of it. Either that or the wind kept it clean. In either case she could feel the evil ahead of her, like a solid wall of it as the mountains rose out of the swamps. It clouded her minds eye but Thafatha had been implicit in his instructions and had, with the command, provided a measure of his own strength to aid them. She felt no hesitation as she rode ahead of her column. No fear.

Only a slightly bitter taste in her mouth and the excitement of impending battle.

As they approached they could sense a shift in the wind and a foul smell soon brought the stench of death to their nostrils. The unicorns began to get a little jumpy as they approached the slope and the ramp leading down from the fortress came into view. At it's base an immense slaughter had taken place. The corpses of unicorn and avar alike lay strewn about the shrubby marshland. As the group approached a trio of beasts emerged at the top of the ramp, running like mad towards them. The trio appeared to be the skeletal remains of beasts, though running as men and as they quickly closed she had time to register that they were in fact dwarves, bedecked in armor decorated in the bones of the fallen.

She rallied her group and signalled to the others on her flank and charged. These fearsome looking creatures were mortal and could be destroyed. The blessing of Thafatha lent her confidence that lasted until one of the dwarves, wielding a razor-sharp obsidian shortsword opened the belly of her unicorn as she tried to run it down and she was thrown from her beast. She hit the ground hard and was rolling over to stand when her mind registered that somehow the dwarf had already eviscerated her beast and had closed the distance between her mount and herself with amazing rapidity. A dark object swept towards her and carried her into oblivion as Glacies struck her down.



(Glacies had actually run off the map to the north a tad. Erith and Paulus (the only other two I could get geared up in time) are shown in center.

Additionally, I'm treating the blessing of Thafatha as a special effect from now on since I've added the [NOFEAR] tag to both unicorns and Avar. I may take this a step farther and add the [LIKESFIGHTING] to make them more suitably xenophobic.)

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Mid-winter year 20 Journal of Led

It has been a remarkably quiet year since last winter when the ambushes happened. Almost too quiet. We'd been expecting the elves to come. And come they did. Fre saw to them, as is her wont. I'm still not quite sure why our relations with the elves took a decidedly worse turn but Fre and Paulus seem to understand it far too well. Though they don't talk about it, they share an understanding in that regard. From what I've gathered from rumors and things, something happened at Onol Lened to bring this about. I remember our relations with them in Geshud Osod were vastly different. Paulus even built a vast indoor garden, or terrarium for them while they stayed. Though, admittedly, those were different elves.

The humans didn't come again this summer, for better or worse. Many of our number view them with considerable distrust given their off again, on again attitude towards us. Though no blood has been shed here by either side so at least there are no grudges in that regard.

Our own people I fear are little better and the caravan from Shellhelms met us with smirks and subtle jibes. They know something we don't know but won't say what it is. We didn't trade with them this year, more out of neglect than deliberate intention. All the trading supplies had been hauled to the depot but no one actually went to trade. By the time someone remembered, they were already packing up. ((Author's note:Totally my fault on this actually.)) Perhaps it's because Paulus hasn't been around to help ensure that things run smoothly.

He's actually been in the Accursed Crack almost this entire year and no one has seen hide nor hair of him. I've spent considerable time in my workshop myself glorifying the blessing and work of Mondul in bonecarvings. I even crossed to the reserve dining hall to see if I ran into him, but no such luck. I tried finding him but the passages that he's dug are now too numerous and convoluted for me keep track of and I returned before I got lost. I'm pretty sure things are well and food and drink have been consumed recently in the dining hall. I assume he's the only creature in this place that would leave his silverware crossed on the stoneware plate and push his chair back in.

Here's to a quiet year and ongoing work inside Mondul's holy place.

Now if only we could hear from the others that are supposed to be coming...

[Battlecat]

Glad to see you're still plugging away at this!  Great writing as always!

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

"Sir!"

Thesaurausaurus' voice echoed down the stone hallway, bumping into Led as he walked toward the Accursed Crack and his boneyard and workshop.

By the time the dwarf caught up with him the scribe was a little out of breath. "Sir, humans from Pesor Mardek, or wherever, have arrived to trade! Shall we trade with them?"

Led paused for a moment to consider the statement. He didn't like being bothered with such things but perhaps it was time they took economic considerations into their own hands.

"Yes. If they have anything useful go ahead and purchase it. And see that their wagons are full to the brim when they leave here. Get rid of everything useless thing you can."

"Sir?"

"The other tribe of humans wants to attack us. Likely for our wealth. Perhaps if we demonstrate that our friends have more to gain from trading than they can possibly get by trying to futiely lay siege to us they may cease their aggressions. Just because we CAN slaughter them if they lay siege to us doesn't mean we should. Perhaps it was time we begin taking our own diplomatic steps as well. So, trade for anything of use, and then fill their wagons with as much as they can carry."

"Very well. It shouldn't be a problem. We haven't really traded with anyone for some time."

"Good. Let them have the pick of what's brought to the depot. No reason to give it all to the dwarves of Shellhelms."

Thesaurusaurus nodded and smiled before hurrying off to designate the goods to be traded. The entire elven caravan had been taken and killed as per Fre's orders, so much of the trade goods would be the elven items. Perhaps sending them with the humans would have other additional side effects.

Like the elves wondering why the humans were suddenly flooded with elven trade goods when their own caravans were simply disappearing...

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

It was with a grim but determined smile that Paulus made his way back towards the fortress proper along the lower road of the Accursed Crack. The path twisted and rose and fell torturously, and had he not carved it himself it's possible he would have gotten lost. But the view was spectacular. The rough hewn pathway liked the intricate series of caverns all along the length of the crack and seemingly randomly he would come across the burnished brown of a copper vein or the magenta hue of an iron vein, or even the faint glimmer of gemstones, still lying embedded in their natural state in the walls. Not to mention the spectacular rock formations, the helicites, stalactites and stalagmites cropping up along the stone like bizzare growths, centuries, or millenia old. Or perhaps older.

Paulus idly flicked a piece of rotting carcass from one of the bone spikes of his greaves as he traveled, sending it flying into the darkness next to him as he traversed a narrow passageway he had carved along the length of the crevasse itself. That little gibbet of rotting flesh was one of the last remnants of undead in the Accursed Crack. It had taken him nearly twenty years, and a number of harrowing near falls, not to mention countless battles with the undead, but the Accursed Crack had been purged. It was now safe to traverse. Or at least as safe as he could make it. He didn't doubt that countless undead possibly remained in the stagnant air of the lower reaches of the crevasse. Who knew how deep it truly was. He'd dropped a stone in from as far down as he could reach and heard it striking the walls and bouncing crazily for far, far too long afterwards. It could easily be a mile or more before the bottom was reached.

As he climbed the stair and emerged, stinking and covered in filth from the door he was surprised to so quickly run into Ragnar, who was coming down the stairs from the outside where she'd been on duty near the ramp.

"Oi, long time no see? How's that accursed place?" Ragnar guestured vaguely with her head towards the Crack.

"More silent than it's likely been in a thousand years. Except for the sound of your metal shoes. I think it was that that kept waking the dead from their slumber." Paulus winked slightly and fell in step next to her.

"Pfah, as if. More than likely it's your smell that's been doing it. You reek so foully I almost feel like dying and coming back myself right here and now!"

"Well then, we'd better get you drunk so you forget such foolish notions. What are you? Sober?"

"Heh, gonna have ta hurry though, ye can join me above, perhaps some rain will clean up your smell a bit. Fre spotted a group of insectoids moving fer us from the west. I wannae get in on the action."

"I'm game, but by the stones I need a drink first."

Ragnar moved to slap him on the back but a sudden cross-breeze blew some of his smell towards her and she shifted, wiping her hand on her blouse at her hip as if it were suddenly unclean.

They downed their drinks in almost record time, though Paulus was faster and then they, along with Fre headed up towards the bridge. No other lookouts had been posted and the scene they were met with was nearly disturbing. A half dozen insectoid creatures already lay in cage traps though several were still milling about near the entrance as the dwarves charged. The fierce and sudden attack stunned two, but three more popped up nearby to add to the confusion. Fre bashed one with her hammer, knocking the creature off the ramp and down, and another soon followed. Soon more stunned insectoids were flying, or rather, falling from the ramp to strike the hard stone below with satisfying crunches.

The trio were still gazing over the side watching as one of the insectoids who'd landed in a soft patch twitched and stuggled to rise as Kolok appeared near the workshops below to finish it off. Wagons appeared at the rim and the guards in front of the lead wagon relaxed visibly to see fellow dwarves standing across the way instead of insectoids. The four Black bears guarding the entrance to the ramp had been torn to pieces by the savage bugs.

It was then that the thieves struck. Seemingly dozens of figures appeared, individually or in twos or threes, all apparently trying to take advantage of the momentary lapse in security. Insectoid master thieves appeared near the trio, and Fre, Ragnar and Paulus tore off in pursuit, while the wagons and caravan guards were left to deal with the goblin thieves and even a lizardman or two.
One of which was later found on the ramp, apparently having been crushed under a wagon wheel.



((Thief warning x22 ... sigh))

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

A heavy frost had already touched the murky marshland in front of the Skull Keep of Mondul, a thin veneer of ice lying gleaming on the surface of the ponds in the morning sun of the chilly late fall day. Paulus and Fre stamped their feet to improve their circulations as the pair made their way carefully down the slippery ramp towards the base where they'd been taking sentry duty. The leather beneath their armor creaked slightly and the steel clanked where it struck stone. Fortunately the hobnailed steel boots provided ample traction among the stones of the ramp. As they reached the crest they noticed an eerie lack of sounds and surveyed the grisly scene below them.

An insectoid patrol had ambushed their sentry animals, the four large black bears tied at the base of the ramp and the creatures could still be seen below, quietly devouring one of the bear carcasses. The pair glanced at each other, grim nods speaking more than words as they each hefted their heavy warhammers and charged their foes.

A pair of insectoids, two of the large cluster turned up towards them as they approached and began clicking in their bizzare speech as the others finally registered the appearance of the charging dwarves. The two moved to intercept the dwarves as they charged into the midst of them but even towering over the short creatures the insectoids simply lacked the mass to contend with a running dwarf in full steel armor. Fre and Paulus' initial charge led them into the midst of the mass of insectoids and soon a wild frenzy of motion erupted. Many of the bugs retreated a step in surprise, fluttering their wings and settling back down again a few paces away before beginning to move in.

Fre's first victim lay crumpled on the ground before her when a second creature grappled her from one side and received, for it's labors, a hammerstroke that caught it in mid-torso, sending it flying backwards and into the slushy pool next to the road. Fre took off after it, heading for the stairs and drew away several of the others. Paulus had little difficulty with the three that remained to him, the undead having taught him well how to use his armor to his full advantage and any attack that he couldn't avoid was simply deflected as he turned his body at the last second to send the blow glancing off. His skill was such that though dozens of blows rained down upon him, not a single one was telling as he steadily whittled the number of attackers down. By the time he had freed himself of assailants and gone to check on Fre she was kneeling casually in the quickly reddening slush of the intended lake inspecting her leg wound.

"How bad is it?"

"Bah, lucky bastard got me from behind. Didn't see it coming. Can't stand on it but I'll be fine."

She spat on the ground as Paulus surveyed the whitish ichor oozing out of the broken carapaces of the remainder of their foes.



Not an hour later Ragnar was already carrying the wounded Fre up the ramp and passed the departing dwarven caravan. The guards fingered their weapons animatedly as they saw the wounded dwarf but neither Fre nor Ragnar wanted to spare them the time to explain. Besides, they would see soon enough. Curiously as the pair disappeared into the central stairwell one of the guards elbowed another and soon three of the five were staring hard after the retreating pair talking in low whispers.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Late Spring, year 22, Fortress log in the hand of Thesaurusaurus

The Hound of Mondul announced after the dwaven merchants left last fall that the Accursed Crack had been officially purged. No undead presence remained, except in the underground lake which served as our initial water source those first few winters, and which still serves that purpose. Fortunately those few waterlogged undead bother us little.

Because of this great opening of the Crack the Hound has announced his intentions towards it. We've already been using it as a catacombs of sorts and it will continue in that function as long as dwarves live in this fortress to entomb their dead. I can think of no better place than that amazing natural crevasse. But the Hound intends to have constructed a roadway along the majority of the upper length of the Crack that can serve as a quick access path to the underground lake and the vast amount of resources readily availble in the the fissure. We need do no prospecting for ore underneath our feet since scores of ore veins are visible along the crack and numerous jewels as well. A large variety of stone types is also present and so the Crack shall serve as our primary material supply source.

Countless bones of the undead lay scattered here and there on the ledges of the Crack and it has been a common duty to begin returning them to the boneyard this winter and spring for our High Priest to continue his work in preparing the furniture of Mondul's temple even as the rest of us continue building the inner floors. More than sufficient to keep all of us in labor, though the long strolls through the Accursed Crack has brought out many a gleam in our dwarven eyes as we begin to understand the vast amount of wealth that remains but a short, and now safe, walk away.

If only people would quit getting lost and thirsty on their way to their jobs. Far too many set out to retrieve bones only to get halfway there and turn about because they're thirsty and half lost. Fortunately for us our innate sense of direction underground can always find us our way back.

Because we've been so busy and Fre has been laid up we sealed the Depot against the elves this spring and they've not approached. It's not so much that they're dangerous at this point as we're busy. Besides, we've done our share of complying with tribal mandate in regards to our relations with them. The limp-wristed pansy-sniffing tree-huggers just keep coming, and it's a bloody nuisance whenever we let them in.

[darkflagrance]

I've been following this fort on and off, drawn to it by the writing...

I'm curious as to how high the fps is in as old a fort as this?

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

((Fortunately I manage to keep my FPS hovering in the 14-20 range while it's running on my laptop. My desktop usually averages about 5-10 higher. Though I've deliberately kept any FPS killing water features off the map and may even consider draining the underground lake to see if that helps. Of course, I've yet to locate the underwater river either so who know, but from forum discussions I've heard that most features actually slow the FPS more if they are undiscovered. We'll see how things work. I've been trying to get immigrants for a while now but... my liason is dead, by my own hand. Useless injured bugger that he was. So technically that causes immigration problems as I recall.))

Trading log, year 22, in the hand of Boink

Heheheheee... my god is truly pleased with this place. According to records I've been able to access through the fort scribe we've imported nearly a million ingots worth of goods while at the same time exporting only about two hundred thousand of our own. Of course, that doesn't take into account the material that has been brought it from the failed attempts at theft, murder, destruction and the like.

Both the humans and the dwaven caravans arrived this year. Trade went fine with the humans, they brought some interesting materials and we acquired all that we wished and gave them a twenty thousand ingot profit to boot. Granted most of it was human-sized clothing of avar origin, which, of course, is useless to us. We also had them cart off the rather intricate but oversized avar armor. They seemed quite pleased with the arrangement and have vowed to return next year if they can possibly make it.

Trade with the dwarven caravan seemed subdued, like normal, though useful enough. We acquired a number of cut gemstones from them and as soon as Mondul's temple is complete the Hound has assured me I can proceed with my own plans.

As tribute this year we sent them with another load of heavy gold bars. Nine large bars was all the wagons seemed able to support and even I could see the eager gleam on the faces of the merchants as they drove out. Can't really blame them. But still, it's a shame to see such wealth leaving our fortress instead of being properly hoarded. Or better yet, utilized in crafts and furnishings...

The dwaves also didn't recieve such a bounteous reception as the humans. Perhaps because we simply gave it all to them, though it pains me to say it. Led has assured me that it is politically beneficial and I suppose, as such, it is justified. But we all had to go out and gather more for the fall caravan and the picking, particularly that in areas near the fortress, and thus considerably safer, have become slim. Ah well. I hear Ragnar is to carve out an extension of the great hall with Sarah and erith and I'll be able to smooth it. That and I still have Fre's project to finish. It's nice having work.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

The heavy winter snows had already fallen in the mountains around Geshud Osod, and the swamps were just beginning to solidify, the murky water turning to a deadly slush, too soft to stand on, too cold to wade through safely. Fre stood at the base of the ramp, idly humming a tune to herself as she stretched, trying futilely to work out the kink in her back. The familiar twinge locked up her muscles momentarily and she forced herself erect before trying to relax the muscles again. Darn injury was always worse when it was cold out.

A noise behind her alerted her to some presence and she heard the heavy feet of a dwarf cross the icy span of the high bridge, thumps echoing in the quarry underneath it. When the dwarf was in sight she turned to look and Der Kartoffel was tromping down the ramp.

"Hoy, brought you a flask of ale ta help keep ye warm out here lass."

Fre gladly accepted the brew, tucking it in under her gambeson where it could keep reasonably warm.

"Thanks. How's the Anvil?"

"Oh, busy as usual in this weather. I saw everyone to their drinks before taking this job from the list."

He looked down at the icy snow that layered the ground. "Large red-backed spider silk sock. Seen it around here?"

"Oh, aye. They were clearing out the other pieces that were left from next to that bush up yonder."

"Ah... ooh, and there are still a few of the berries left on that thing."

"Berries? In this weather? You must be mad."

"Oh, possibly. They're not berries you eat anyway." He paused, hesitantly. "Some of the better spice plants finally come ripe after the first good frosts. It's a hard waxy berry, not edible in and of itself."

"Ah, well, if you say so."

"Aye, one of the Lizardmen told me about it when I was feeding him. Apparently it's quite the treat in their diet since they don't like goin' outside much in winter."

Fre just grunted. "Well, I suppose it'll be quiet 'ere for a while. I think that sock was the last piece in the immediate area and we should have enough to trade with for now, aye?"

Der Kartoffel nodded at her and slipped down the last tier of the ramp into the ankle deep snows.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Early Spring 23

Thesaurusaurus cinched his threadbare robe around his frame and stepped out into the bright light, squinting at the glare that bounced off the snow covering the countryside beneath him. Many would have stopped at the top of the ramp to admire the view but the tired scribe had no time for such frivolities. Besides, he hated the out of doors.

As he headed down the ramp his visage was drawn to the snow lying splashed with red at the base of the ramp. He rushed down and stood, slightly pop-eyed at the carnage littering the bottom of the ramp. The Hound and the Hunter of Mondul stood idly near the base of the ramp, just above the snow level chatting leisurely as the snow's swirled around them.

Thesaurusaurus nearly wailed:" I just had this place cleaned up! What do I look like? The maid? Can't you two keep it clean for more than 5 weeks?"

Fre just grinned at him. "Hey, it's not my fault these party-crashers showed up."

She pulled a broken bolt from her belt, using the piece to pick something out of her teeth.

The Hound just shrugged.

"Maybe if they ask nicely next time we'll let them in for a look see."

Thesaurusaurus sighed, defeated.

"I'll send another crew down to pick up the pieces. I guess we'll have plenty to trade with this year."

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

The scribe sat in his office, among the mechanisms and levers and little balls of every stone and metal conceivable. Among the chaos of his office the dwarf sat, head buried in his hands and silently wept for his one remaining son. His son that might as well be no more. His grief washed over him in waves and he considered venting his fury at the heavens by taking up his weapon and going forth to do battle with the undead and elements outside in his own naked glory. There would be time for that later, though, and for now he simply wept for his son.

His SON! Victim to a goblin thief of all things. Had not his son given himself to Mondul and created, in her name, a glorious artifact? A herald, if rumors were true, of things to come? And yet, she, in her grace, could not take his son to herself. No, a lucky blow as the goblin was discovered and panicked had left his child crippled. Not in body, but in mind. The head wound itself was starting to heal, but the damage underneath it would never mend. The dwarf would permanently be a burden upon the others. He would never work again, likely never even leave his bed where his father cared for him. Changed his bedclothes, wiped the drool from his face, fed him, brought him water.

Had it been him, he could have borne it. Or so he thought. A father taken prematurely is a poor thing indeed, but to lose a son while still in his youth? Particularly after his wife and other child had already died and been taken to his goddess? He was alone again. Alone among his kind. His family line would be no more. He had not the heart to marry another.

The door opened quietly behind him and a cloaked figure entered, closing the door behind themselves and securing it.

The faint whisper of the dwarf's voice reached his ears and penetrated his thoughts, despite his inner turmoil.

"My condolances to you, Thesaurusaurus. I have come to offer you my services in this time of your need."

"S-ss-services? What could you possibly offer me that would help?" spat the scribe.

"Led teaches that Mondul comes for us in our own time and that we should not work to hasten our own departure. Nor, apparently, those of our kind unless in warfare. I have further enlightenment for you then. The gods can take on themselves more than one form surely. Where Mondul embodies death for us dwarves surely the goddess reaches out to other races?"

The scribe stifled his sniffling and was listening. "I know other races have their own deities of death. Is not the human one called Sut, or somesuch?"

"Indeed. All races die and I tell you that the goddess embodies death in all it's forms, both pure and unpure. I come to you now as Her messenger in the name of Ile, lizardmen god of death. Yes, Death ... and Murder. Join me in this further calling ... in my service to our goddess, and in the name of Ile I shall release your son from this unnatural state he remains trapped in. Surely you do not wish to see your son spend the next century in such a state?"

"I ... I ... of course not." Thesaurusaurus paused for some time and the cloaked stranger let him think. After a time the scribe looked up, a determined look in his eye.

"No, my son must not suffer such travesty. He has performed his life's work and has been blessed abundantly. Please, speed his journey along to the next life. What must I do?"

"For now? Pledge devotion to Ile and I shall instruct you further in time."

"Very well. I do pledge to serve Ile until such a time as I am called to stand before my goddess."

The cloaked figure bowed deeply and left the scribe to his reflections. As the door closed the figure smiled. At long last the worship of Ile among the dwarves was beginning to grow. The guild of Assassins had begun recruiting.

((Any wishing to be dwarfed in the future now have to option of being a member of the Fahlstrom clan, the Loyalists, the Followers of Mondul and now the Assassins guild. In order to be granted entry you must pm me with the correct name of the cloaked figure. The cloaked figure is one of the current named dwaves in the fortress. Oh, and since my liason is dead I have not gotten any migrants at all. Anyone know if that can be remedied? I've increased the pop cap in the init files but still no more dwarves.))

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

The sun warmed his armor in the early morning light, and though it was high summer the nights still got cool enough to see your breath at times. The rivers had finally thawed into the sluggish torpor of half frozen streams, but a few more days of sunshine would surely see them flowing clear again. The stone behind and under him moved and shivered in the wind and sun but the ramp did not truly budge. Nevertheless the Hound could feel the stone under his feet, the movements of the human trader's wagons rumbling up the slope towards the exit of the Skull-temple of Mondul.

A light skittering vibration brought his attention up and to his more immediate surroundings. The faintest of scratchings, bizzare, almost random tremors that held the promise of invading insects made him glance up. They were hard to feel, but once they got close enough, easy to spot. With practice. The Hound smiled to himself. His own steel shell surpassed theirs in strength, and his already prodigious skill in fighting meant he rarely had to rely on his armor. But his weapon was steel, not something stronger, and it took time to crack through even an insectoids' touch carapace. Two groups converged on him and now even the four fully grown black bears seemed uneasy at their places, staked to the ground as they were.

A sudden motion in his peripheral vision surprised him as a single goblin thief gasped in surprise as it rounded the corner of the ramp, hardly expecting to see a dwarf standing guard down this far. The steel hammer exploded into motion, clipping the surprised goblin in the shoulder and driving the thing down and back. A second blow crushed it's ribcage as the first insectoid patrol sprang up, two or three of the creatures flying madly at the bears while the rest went for the armored dwarf. The insectoid leader had sprung at the dwarf's back but the dwarf span incredibly fast, already bringing his hammer around in a wide arc and catching the moving insectoid. The strength of the blow changed the creature's direction in mid-air and sent it spinning crazilly north, clipping a tree and leaving it lying broken on the ground. The dwarf was on it in a flash and soon the insectoid guard lay in a heap, oozing whitish ichor onto the black loamy earth.

One of the bears was bellowing madly as insectoids cirled it, the second group having joined the first and coming tearing up from the south, attacking the bears staked their. One of the first bears had an insectoid pinned on the ground and was mauling it brutally even as the insectoid was desperately trying to cut through the heavy fur on it's belly. The dwarf waded into the fray, sending creatures flying and attracting bugs like moths to a flame. The silver of steel shone through the fracas of limbs and creature after creature was swatted away. All but the one fierce bear was now down, as were several of the insectoids, most lying broken against some nearby tree where their momentum had been suddenly stopped. A second insectoid lept to the aid of the one beneath the bear and the large animal seemed to be weakening.

A sudden swipe of a chitinous blade sent red blood flying from the dwarf's leg and it gave a lurch before crumpling the dwarf to the ground. Stubbornly the dwarf fought on, flailing and rending with hammer and limbs at the remaining four insectoids. One rolled on top of the dwarf but the sudden shift in momentum brought the dwarf up in a roll and soon the insectoid was lying beneath him as his steel gauntlets pummelled and pounded the insectoid into oblivion. The other three fared little better in the long run, though the battle was long and the dwarf lay overexerted on the ground for some time. 



By the time the caravan reached the base of the ramp the dwarf was again on his feet, but breathing heavily amid the carnage. A quick nod to the caravan leaders and he waved them through, assuring them that the fighting was over, at least here. The guards walked by in near awe as they'd not seen any other dwarves ascend the ramp, nor could they see any deceased among the carnage. That a single armored dwarf and four tethered bears had taken on twelve insectoids and come out with little more than scratches simply boggled the mind. As the merchant waved his thanks and goodbyes he noticed a small silverish ring hanging on a chain around the dwarf's neck. It must have come loose in the fighting and at the sight of it the merchant almost started in surprise before turning away and clucking calmly to his somewhat panicked beasts of burden.

[skaltum]

WOW extreme kudos for keeping this alive for so long

is this still 40d?

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

The small group of dwarves climbed the staircase carefully, taking each step as it came. The way to the High fane of Mondul was a significant climb but this was their first official worship. They wouldn't be using the altar itself, but instead the sermon hall just beneath it. As they rose they passed the three treasure chambers of their fortress, space for their valued artifacts and items set out.

The vaults were eerie sort of rooms and as soon as one entered the floor found oneself surrounded by dozen upon dozens of cleaned and carved skull totems from the enemies of their people. The sermon chamber was spacious. In truth it was vast. Far larger then necessary for what few dwarves actually resided in the fortress. It had sufficient seating for fully sixty worshippers and each of the chairs was of superiour quality and decoration. Each was adorned with the bones of the fallen and wrought with such prodigious skill as to permit nearly the history of their fortress to be told on the furniture alone. It was a sight to behold.

And it was finally finished.



All that remained to be completed in the temple were the formal design and layouts for the chambers of trial. And that could wait since one of them was already full functional, even if not entirely completed.

Besides... the dwarves had other things to keep them busy. Far too many things.

((Oh, the left two are the High fane and the sermon chamber. Only Masterwork skull totems are permitted in those. The other two are the upper two treasure display rooms and have only exceptional skull totems. Lesser quality totems are used for decoration in less important areas, though there are few of those totems, to be honest.

Thanks skaltum. And yes, it's still 40d. I'd love some of the features from the newer versions, but this was started too long ago and with the entire embark area selected I'm going to finish my plans for this before moving on. Thanks for reading!))