18th Granite - Rikkir's Log
Two squads of goblins showed up at our west gate today. Mulch and Maggarg were first on the scene, sending goblins flying in every direction as they battled the greenskins. Within seconds the goblins were all dead. No survivors.
13th FelsiteAt long last the elves have gone mad, breaking down into tears and tearing at each other with the ferocity of a starved dog. At least, the one that pushed the goblin into the moat is, the other three are just running away from him in a panic as he rips them limb from limb.
13th HematiteThe humans arrived today, bringing with them no less than ten wagons. We've brought them in to trade.
The outpost liaison seemed disturbed for some reason as he was led into the depot with the other merchants, happily talking with myself and Glacies. We discussed much concerning the increase in goblin attacks. The humans seemed surprised by our allegations that the elves are in league with the greenskins, asking how the treehumprs could even consider an alliance with creatures as bane as the goblins. Yet, we have proof as we bring out yet another elven skull totem that decorates our hall for him to examine.
I neglected to tell him that the skull was from the elves who had been torn apart by their own kind in the depot just months before. Let him stay ignorant and blissful.
Also, Fre and Ileit have apparently been seen together by some of the other children.
Ah, the follies of youth.
25th HematiteRirdest approached me today, demanding to know why some of the goods were offering his merchants were of elven make and covered in blood. His manner was so disraught that he nearly passed out at my feet when I clapped him on the back in a brotherly fasion and explained that they were elven made, taken from elven invaders.
He seemed stunned by the idea that the elves had attacked us and didn't press the issue. In fact, he seemed a little reticiant to face me from that point on. It must have been my friendly manner. Or the fact that I nearly flattened him with that friendly motion.
27th Hematite - Just outside of Ulolgeshud.
Rirdest frowned as he through the young trees that dotted the landscape around the depot, the dwarven bread he had been eating for the last two weeks sitting as heavily in his stomach as his thoughts sat on his mind. He felt the currents of a brisk north wind wash across his trousers, already heralding the times to come for this small dwarven village and he sighed, things were not going well.
Last year Citu Cituishes had returned from a successful trading season with these very same dwarves, the sames ones that Reg had found so many years ago. The number, the quality, and the amount of goods that he had returned with had been staggering to everyone involved with the guild. The wealth of Desopesor had increased by a third in over one night with his return, and Citu... Citu had become one of the wealthiest merchants in all of the kingdom. By all rights he had made this liaison with Ulolgeshud into one of the best and most lucrative in the world, and yet... he withdrew from his post and had himself reassigned to a backwater village nearly halfway across the continent without explanation.
At first Rirdest had been ecstatic to discover that he was next in line for control of the trade empire that Ulolgeshud was, but ever since he arrived something had been bothering him. A tiny twitter had been telling him in the back of his mind that something was... wrong. That something had driven Reg... and then Citu... away from this place.
As he passed the quiet, artificial lake and worked his way up the ramp where the Matron dwarf... Rikkir, she said her name was, Rirdest thought about his first arrival here at Ulolgeshud. At first his party had been met by a grizzly dwarf clad in iron with a wicked-looking sword. The dwarf had challenged them at first, waving his sword at Rirdest's men in an erratic way and telling "us elves" to go back home to our Treedinging retreats. It had taken all of his diplomatic ability right then and there to convince the swordsman, who had later been introduced as Fireheart, that the men and woman with him were friends. Not long after the madman's commander, whom Rirdest had been informed was named "Mulch Diggums Eshan", the only dwarf that Rirdest had heard of with three names, and had ushered all of Rirdest's party into the depot.
Since then things had been well. Mulch had treated well with them, and introduce Rirdest and the rest of his men to his wife and family, including their trader (and apparantly daughter) Glacies Esrur. The dwarves seemed ecastic to unload their goods, crafts, and spoils of war onto Rirdest's wagons, piling heaps of bone trinkets, stone works, blocks, statues, and goblin gear in exchange for Iron and food. If he was a less cautious man, Rirdest would be ecstatic himself over his profit from this trip. But... perhaps because he had been burned so many times, he was worried. Some of the goods didn't seem right. Smooth wooden crafts haphazardly thrown in with the others, bereft of the interlocking sockets so common in dwarven craft and the rivets seen in goblin wear. Clothing that was too large for a dwarf or goblin, but too narrow for a man to fit. Veils and thongs, embroidered with flowers and plants so to fit in with the underbrush. Gnomeblight, an extract that was unheard-of in this area.
Rirdest pulled free his pipe and lit it carefully, drawing a long breath of the Mog Juice infused tobacco, a crop that has long been forbidden from any form of trade since the great treaty was developed, and exhaling a perfectly round ring of smoke from his lips. The pipe helped him relax in ways that no other earthly pleasure could. It helped him clear his mind and think, while before him the placid lake rippled in the wind. As he inhaled through his nose in preparation for another smoke ring, he noticed a small bit of movement to the south of the lake. A small hand waving to him, motioning for him to approach. It was distant, but a clear indication.
Hesitantly, confused, Rirdest let his pipe down and stared at the distant motion. Pausing only long enough to snuff his tobacco before walking around the small lake to meet the waving figure.
As he approached, Vicarrah grinned maliciously.
16th MalachiteThe merchants have left.
6th GalenaLinakesh has reached her 13th birthday today. Ukat has taken her under her wing so that she can become a true mechanical genius. It's as good a beginning for her as any.
11th GalenaToday I have brought our twenty-ninth member of the population into being.
22nd Galena - Rikkir's Notes
Diorite is walking, Glacies is pleased.
24th Galena - Rikkir's Log
My youngest walks, although it is a little early for him to do so. I hope that it doesn't affect Glacies in any usual ways.
14th Limestone - Pete's Military Logs
A goblin assassin calling himself Ngerxung Amxuudu attacked Pete outside of the walls today. Pete beat him away without injury, which was fortunate as we later discovered his Scourge was poisoned with a dangerous extract created from Gnomeblight.
I've told Mulch and Maggarg to keep this information, and any further information of such attacks, secret from Rikkir. Should she know, she may act in a way that could endanger us all in the long run.
15th Limestone - Maggarg's Diary
A goblin raid attacked our west gate today. The majority of the first wave were captured by our cage traps, however two of the spearmen broke through and we were forced to dispatch them.
As I left the front gate to guard the exit so we could reset the traps, a second wave of goblins attacked, a lone crossbowgoblin behind a mob of wrestlers firing a shot that went unconfortably close to the swordsdwarf's torso.
The within Mulch, Jack, and I had clashed into the goblin group, swords and hammers sending goblin bodies flying as normal. They danced the dance of death, untouchable by fist, bolt, or spear as goblins fell around them like trees. Within minutes the goblins were routed.
As the dust settled Jack and I were able to stop and catch our breath, looking at one another with the joy that comes with combat, until we noticed that one of our number was missing.
Mulch was nowhere to be seen.
15th Limestone
Mulch drifted as the water flowed above him. His mind elsewhere as he felt the eddies of the current tug and pull at him, while the fight raged above. Even without being able to participate, he knew Maggarg and Jack were winning. Ancient dwarven techniques, some learned, some remembered, had bolstered all of their strength to almost superdwarven levels.
He had fallen into the moat, dragging two wrestlers with him as he sank beneath the murky water, turning the turbulent watercourse into bloody vortex of death. Around him bolts fell and floated while the two creatures beside him in the channel him tore at his armor with a frenzy before the lack of oxygen caused them to succumb into unconsciousness. Indeed, two of his fingers on his right hand were bruised from their efforts, a more painful and dangerous wound than many he had been delt over the years. However, the fall and water hardly hindered his ability to fight, and the two he had taken with him had long lay dead at the bottom of the moat. Where they belonged.
Mulch knew that his time left wasn't long. His ability to hold his breath was good, but his armor weighed him down enough that there was no means with which he could free himself easily. Not one of the village knew how to swim, save perhaps Rikkir due to her work on the moat fifteen years past, and none of them had seen him fall into the water. It was only a short matter of time before he was forced to exhale, and then inhale the liquid that surrounded him.
Still, it wasn't a bad way to go. The water made him feel lighter, almost boyant when compared with his normal mode of travel. The weight of the years and armor he had so naturally assumed would be there since he had become the head of the military turned on it's head in the face of immanent demise. He had children to carry on his legacy, and a number of masterpieces that his name would be remembered in for all eternity. Especially Bithitmokez Enen Mamot, the cornerstone of all of their bread, wheat, and meal.
Above the noise stopped. Mulch wondered if the fighting was over. He doubted any of the others had been hurt, but one can never tell in battle. Civilians might have gotten entangled with the goblins ,like Glacies had before. Like Frea, back when a goblin raid like this was a real concern. There are so many ways to get hurt and killed in the world, it was almost painful to think about it.
Mulch looked up as the blood from the goblins rose in the water, tracing a gentle swirl of red that mingled with the thin trail of bubbles from his nose. It was truely beautiful, in it's own way. Life... death... Perhaps dying in this way wasn't so bad. Just not breathing... it was almost like going to sleep.
...
Mulch gagged on the fresh air as a strong pair of arms pulled him free of the moat. Sticky blood clinging to his armor like paste as he was borne free of the embrace of death. Familier fingers interlocked and heaved against his chest, while warm lips opened his mouth and breathed new life into his cooling body.
Pain. It was painful, that breath. But once was all that the lungs needed to start moving again. Their ragged individualism fighting his desire to stop and rest. The organs moved of their own violation, clearing the throat and chest of the bonds of liquid that had nearly dragged him into the abyss.
Mulch opened his eyes warily to two dozen worried stares. His limbs leaden and tired as his fingers groped wildly at his side. Moving downward to the fingers that were still on his breat. With a wary smile he lifted the hand and met his wife's grasp.
A cheer rose up from all of the onlookers as Rikkir bent down and lifted him into a poweful hug. Her voice warmer than it had been in years.
"Welcome back to the land of the living."
17th Limestone - The Logs of Tirean Eshan, Cardinal
Mother broke her leg when channeling out a segment of the windmill farm today. A piece of floor turned out to be unstable and sent a cloud of debris out that also injured Zorphius and the war dog Edem Enshaltun. There were no deaths, but Echo refuses to allow Mother to do any more hard work until she recovers.
18th Limestone - The Logs of Tirean Eshan, Cardinal
Due to Mothers's injury, I've been appointed as "officially in charge" until she is fit to walk again. I don't know why I was chosen, especially since Glacies and the older adults have much more experience with leading than I do, but since Mother has made it an official decree, I can hardly refuse her. When I asked Illeit about it she got all huffy. Sparrow told me she thinks it's some kind of a test and Maggarg agrees with her. Both of them say Mother probably wants me to be able to take over for her when she dies.
Whatever.
Anyway, Pete accosted two snatchers outside of the village today while logging. The goblins managed to flee before they were killed, but it's unlikely that those particular goblins will return any time soon.
28th Limestone - The Logs of Tirean Eshan, Cardinal
Wow, Mom has a lot of things to do. Since I've taken over as "Officially in charge" everyone has been bringing me their little problems to solve. Pete keeps telling me that we need to be careful with our wood in case we run out before the new trees grow in. Abod keeps pestering me for fuel to finish an order that we placed weeks ago for pump parts. Father comes in daily with reports our injured, both Sarek AND mother.
Speaking of Sarek, she has been spotted running around town with a goblin thong on her head spouting random nonsense about having discovered the "perfect" sewing pattern. As acting leader and her sister I'm a little worried about this. I don't know what to do, if I tell her to go back to bed and she doesn't... how do I get her to listen? Should I tell dad and have him handle it? Is it a job for our Sheriff? She's been fixated on the loom for days and I really just don't know...
Help me. Someone.
2nd Sandstone - The Logs of Tirean Eshan, Cardinal
I went to visit Sarek in the loom today, as I entered the building the spirits of my ancestors seemed to clutch at my arms, causing the fine hairs there to raise in alarm before I even crossed the threshold. To nerve myself to enter, I forced myself to chant the small prayer that mother had taught me in the old tongue back when I was little.
Zustash Bobrur (Ancient mother)
F'mid, Ur (Listen, Hear)
Sodel id (Shield of Rock)
Tosid ma (Armor me)
Ibmat Vush (Spark of Fire)
Abra, Atal (See, Find)
Athel Datan (Ring of iron)
Era ma (Lead me)
Duthnuren Ubal(Guardian Spirit)
Osal, Ikal (Sing, Heal)
Tadar Iseth (Mortal Quest)
Usen ma (Help me)
Sketches and drawings covered every surface of the workshop, intermixed with dozens of objects of every description. Rough gems, Goshenites, Piles of Gabbro, Brown Zircon, Dog bones, and Gabbro blocks. In the center of it all sat Sarek, her long brown tresses spilling out from under her loose blue cap and coiling on the floor behind her. In her hands she she worked with a single strip of silk. Her hands sewing the billowing material with a masterful efficiancy I hadn't seen her use in over a year. It was mesmerizing, beautiful. She was radiant, perfect, a goddess of cloth surrounded by the sparks of her imagination while the twinkling lights of the stars shone down through the thatch roof.
I fell to my knees as I watched, my body backing itself out of the door as I wept. With force I struggled against the pull of her artistry, my hands numb as I gripped the edge of the door and pulled it shut behind me. When I was able to stand, I ran. I never looked back at that expression on her face, the look of total contentment and masterful ecstasy.
Will I ever be able to look at her the same again?
4th Sandstone - The Logs of Tirean Eshan, Cardinal
Sarek has returned to bed today, her work completed. The others talk about it constantly, calling it Eshommishos, Silencebeached. It is a Chausse* made of spider silk, covered with decorations of all types. Those who have seen it speak of little else, their conversations saturated with the love of this new toy. They call it an artifact, a work of legends.
For some reason, I break into a cold sweat when I think of it.
*-A type of Breeches or Stockings worn by men, I had to look that one up
17th Timber - The Logs of Tirean Eshan, Cardinal
Things have been quiet over the last few weeks, gratefully. While Mother has been resting Abod has virtually taken over for her in caring for the baby. It's kind of funny, watching Abod try to figure out how to care for her without any help. She seems constantly confused, and panics constantly when the baby fusses. I suppose I'm a little immune to it, having lived with mom through so many children, but Abod seems so... out of her element.
Still, the face she has when she feeds the baby is really sweet.
1st Moonstone - The Log of Tirean Eshan, Cardinal
One of our older war dogs, Kubuk Nishagesh, died today when it fell into a weapon trap. Her end was mercifully short, at least. The trap, true to it's nature, shredded her in seconds.
1st Granite, 1073 - The Logs of Tirean Eshan, Cardinal
As the new year comes around, Mother still lies in her bed, incapable or unwilling to give us her guidance. The brief times she spends conscious given entirely to her conversations with Father.
The winter was calm this year, and little of note happened from my last entry in the Autumn.
In other news, Sarek has started walking around again. This is the first time I have seen her since her possession, and she seems as radiant as ever. It's almost as if nothing has passed between us... for her at least. Though she still bears a few spikes from the broken head of the lance that had run through her gut. She has been unwilling to allow us to remove it, and has actually incorporated it into the way that she walks and works with such facility that I wonder if removing it will ever be necessary. Abod has spoken of simply waiting for it to fall out of it's own accord.
The baby still remains with the rest of us. We take turns feeding and caring for it. Abod, with so much free time on her hands when compared to the rest of us, has cared for the little girl the most. Over the last few months she has learned how to convince the child to safely drink and eat on her own, and has overcome her nervousness when the babe cries in the night. It's almost as if she has become the baby's mother...
...
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Topic: Last Dwarves in the world. Ulogeshud[Community Fortress] (Read 50652 times)