When Zarathustra was thirty years old, he left his home and went up into the mountains. There he enjoyed his spirit, his solitude, and his pump, and for a year did not tire of it. But at last he grew wary, and started to go down.
But then he saw that there were still a bunch of goblins sitting outside. He wasn't really that wary of his pump, so he went back to his cave. | |
Meanwhile, the dwarves of Gearspark buried their dead. The workers were restless--the death of Ark hit them hard; in some ways he was the one holding the whole fortress together. There were tantrums and much sadness, although, thankfully, no more dead.
The goblins milled about outside, unable to find the entrance. This was fortunate, as Gearspark was nearly undefended. The fortress had gone on without metal for far too long, and the dwarves were finding themselves in a stange and unhappy position for a dwarf to be in--outclassed by their opponents' equipment.
At least the goblins were doing their part against the undead of the skies--one squad brought down a zombie giant eagle, while another was killed trying to do the same thing to a zombie wyvern. Showing a surprising level of intelligence, the wyvern carried a trophy--the goblin sergeant's bloody, tattered tunic--back to its unholy lair. | |
That spring saw the arrival of almost twenty-five migrants, including a cook, a dungeon master, and a marksdwarf. In an astounding stroke of luck, they managed to avoid attracting the attention of the goblins. Excess labor was split into three sections. Some were sent to the farms--the dwarves of Gearspark swore they not only would never again face famine, but also that they would start producing more diverse fare than the mushrooms that had seen them through the food emergency. Others were sent to train for a new army. Finally, a number of them were designated to be siege operators. Not only would this provide another means of defense, but would also help to clear the fortress of stone. This would be particularly crucial for a new project--the pool, with its population of zombified animal-men, would be drained into a reservoir. Hopefully this would allow the dwarves to comfortably use the main entrance, which had grown dusty with disuse.
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The only other event of the spring was the death of a fairly unknown woodworker. He had planned some glorious construction, but required shells, which were not available. In despair, he would try to kill himself by throwing himself down the stairs. The first time he did this, on the 6th of Felsite he was unsuccessful, only breaking a leg. The second time, six days later, he succeeded. |
That summer was a tragic one. A bone carver went into a strange mood. He went outside to gather the bones of the giant eagle the goblins had killed earlier; as the goblins had left a few weeks earlier, it was assumed that it would be safe for him to do so. But on the 17th of Hematite, before he returned, the orcs arrived. He died to their arrows, as did a jeweler, a herbalist, a farmer and a fisherdwarf. Tragically, the champion wrestler Goden gave his life unsuccessfully trying to protect the civilians. The clerk, Zuglar, was also outside when the siege began; the dwarves feared the worst. Many gave up hope, assuming he was dead.
But two miners, Logem the Legendary and Skid, the former ruler, knew better. In an act of extreme heroism, they tunneled to Zuglar's rescue. He had been chased by a squad of boworcs and had been wounded before he escaped. His strength had given out when he was exposed on a small ridge; despite the swordorcs on the other side of the valley, he had been unable to move. The orcs had just caught his scent when Skid emerged from the ground and rescued the clerk; the rescue tunnel was walled off just moments before the orcs followed them into the safety of the underfortress. (could have swore I made a movie of this but if I did it's gone now)
The dwarves would spent the next fall and winter under siege. They built up their food supplies and finished up the reservoir. One self-sacrificing dwarf, nicknamed "Spock,"
gave his life to breach the pool. Also, an enterprising bowyer made an artifact crossbow; the skill he gained doing so will be crucial in creating an army that will return Gearspark to its former glory!
On the first of Obsidian, we
drained the pool into the reservoir. It sort of worked. As we did so, we received the news that our only marksdwarf, who had been caught outside when the orcs came, had starved while holed up in the old hermit's cave (the hermit himself had uncermoniously rejoined society during that short and happy time when it was safe to be outside). Gearspark was once again without any military, save a handful of half-trained, poorly equipped melee fighters. At least the hermit's booze supplied had allowed him to die without being sober.