So this ended up being the longest story so far. I usually pride myself is being able to edit a story down to a digestible length, but there was a LOT of shit going on in this story that had to be told for everything to make sense.
Thread 7 - Uristoshar, aka Daggercircles (circa 186)
Litast slugged his way the murky waters, battleaxe held high above the kneedeep swamp water. The axe itself was caked in mud and gunk, the handle still spattered with dried blood where Litast had neglected to clean it. It had seen many battles these last 5 years.
"Onul," he said as he made his way to their campsite in the swamps. "I'm back with my report. They number more than 50, perhaps 60. The demon leads his host...Onul, they have brought the slaves again."
Onul grunted at the news as he stared out into the swamplands. "How many slaves?"
"I counted 3, maybe 4 dwarves total. Garbed in goblin armor and weaponry. I did not recognize any faces."
"Aye, you wouldn't, there were but children when they were taken from us. Litast, fetch me my hammer. We make war in the Lessended Swamps once more. I will not let them reach Uristoshar unmolested."
Litast did as he was told, but he doubted the wisdom of his commander. Uristoshar, Daggercircles in the common tongue, was but an empty hole in the ground now. He, Onul, and two others were the only survivors of the war they had called the Savage Conflict, one they waged against the goblins. Before the war Daggercircles had known nothing but peace, and their population had numbered over 50. Now they were down to four tired old men hoping to hold out against the full goblin army.
He returned with the hammer, and the four of them marched back into the swamp where Litast had come from. Litast had urged Onul to return to Daggercicles, to barricade the great doors and wait for help, but Onul would have none of it. He wanted to take the fight into the swamps.
Onul gave the orders to march, and the four of them went forward, the clanking of their armor drowned out by the sounds of their feet splashing through the water. Litast made his way to his commander, hoping to convince him to retreat. "Onul...is this wise?"
Onul snorted. "Wise? We are four beards against a host of 60 goblins and dwarves and demons. No, this is not wise. But there is a reason Uristoshar was built here a hundred years ago. It's a strong, fortified position in the mountains. The only way in is via the Lessened Swamp, and that is exactly where we will fight our enemy."
"Yes, I know this. But there is no defensive cover here. We fight in the open, and we have lost so many in these waters. Daggercircles has a drawbridge, and high walls, and supplies enough to last us a generation. We can wait for help."
"I will not have goblins laying siege to our city, Litast! Be done with your protesting. We fight like our fathers, our ancestors! We take the battle to them, on our own terms! We will break their host and force their retreat. We are dwarves, we do not hide from our enemy! These swamps have protected us for gener-" Suddenly an arrow shot out of the reeds from an unknown enemy and tore out Onul's throat as he spoke. Blood gushed out of the wound and down his chest, disappearing into the muddy water. Onul choked out a few unintelligible words before collapsing face first into the swamp water.
Erith and Degel, the remaining two dwarven soldiers, made ready to charge their invisible enemy before Litast stopped them, realizing this was his chance to take the fight to the city. "Soldiers, to me!" Litast barked, "Retreat! Back to Daggercircles!"
The three dwarves fled across the swamps as a storm of arrows descended upon them. Degel caught two of the black jagged arrows in his back. He coughed out a spray of blood and cried for help, but Erith and Litast ignored him as they continued to run for the safety of the mountainhome.
They soon spotted a group of goblins and dwarves attempting to outflank them. They stood between them and Daggercircles, blocking their escape. Litast roared and charged his enemies, swinging his axe at the nearest foe, a dwarf. The dwarf dodged skillfully and lunged with his dual daggers. The weapons clanged uselessly against Litast's plate armor, allowing him to able to get in another strike, catching the dwarf in the foot with his axe - the dwarf howled in pain. Litast swung his head wildly looking for Erith, spotting him a few feet back fighting 3 goblins.
The other dwarf noticed Litast was distracted and lunged a second time, aiming for the opening inbetween Litast's armor. Steel pierced flesh and Litast screamed in pain and surprise. Blood trickled down his armor as he stumbled a few steps back, weakly holding his ax before he collapsed helplessly into the brown and green water.
Erith, thinking the battle was lost, broke free of his own enemies and ran off into the swamps, perhaps thinking he could lose them in the deeper waters. The goblins and dwarves chased after him, firing arrows and curses at him as he ran.
Litast flailed uselessly in the water until he gained his footing in the uneven mud. He staggered to his feet, wheezing; blood speckled his lips and stained his beard. He had no idea how he was alive, but realized the enemy had left him alone as they chased after Erith. Seizing the opportunity, he ran to Daggercircle's main drawbridge, clenching his chest in pain. He looked over his shoulder and spotted the enemy gaining on him. Behind them, off in the distance, was a floating dwarf corpse that had no less than a dozen arrows potruding out of it.
Grunting in pain and frustration, Litast pushed his body until every joint, every ligament, every fiber of his body screamed out in white hot agony. He limped across the wooden drawbridge and stumbled into gatehouse, grabbing onto a lever to stop himself from falling. This in turn activated the mechanisms that raised the drawbridge, sealing himself off from the remaining forces. He blacked out on the cold stone floor.
---
For seven months Litast hid inside Daggercircles. He had set up a bed where they had stored their food and drink so that he could eat and drink without having to stop his bedrest. Aside from the bandages on his chest he felt well enough, though he knew he wouldn't be able to truly fight without first seeking medical attention.
But what could he do? Daggercircles was empty save for him and a few rodents. The hallways were dark, the torches long ago extinguished. Litast had only bothered to keep a few of the rooms lit, and he feared what ghosts may haunt the empty halls. Perhaps Onul himself would come to haunt him, angry at his retreat.
Still, Latist had felt his decision to flee was the right one. For 7 months he held the fort without ever facing his enemy. The drawbridge prevented entry, and he knew his enemy lacked any siege weapons. He figured they would eventually have fall back; surely they could not think a single dwarf hiding under the mountains was worth it.
One night Litast woke from his bed screaming. He had been having a nightmare, though the details were quickly fading. He rubbed his eyes roughly, then began searching for that mug of ale he had left by his bed. It was then he noticed the demon.
"No...no!" he protested weakly, reaching for his axe. Cursing, he remembered his axe was long gone, discarded in battle 7 months back. Was it still under the swamp water, accumulating rust?
"Quiet," the demon growled. He smiled them - a malicious, horrible smile - and his eyes glowed like burning embers. "Nako, take care of him."
A man Litast hadn't noticed emerged from the shadows. Litast wildly searched for a weapon until he spotted an empty stein he had left discarded by the bed. He swung it wildly at the man, hitting him in the face. Nako crumpled onto the ground, grasping his eye in pain and confusion.
"Some fight left in this one. Good." The demon continued to smile at him as he approached the bed. Litast attempted to swing the mug again but the demon caught his arm, twisting it harshly. Litast felt himself being yanked cruelly out of bed, the demon holding him up by the arm. He kicked feebly in the air, begging to be spared. "Come. I have need of you."
The demon dragged Litast screaming through the dark halls of Daggercircles. Suddenly Litast was blinded by a strong light and realized he was outside; the sun made him want to vomit. Behind him he noticed the drawbridge was gone: a pile of smoldering cinders laid on the ground in front of entrance.
The demon brought him to his feet and gave him a light shove. In front of him stood an entire army of goblins, dwarves, and men. Some of the soldiers were laughing at him, others, mostly the dwarves, looked at him with what he thought was pity.
"This dwarf attempted to escape my wrath. He has failed. He will now serve me, as you all serve if you fail me. Let him be a lesson."
Litast screamed as the demon raked claws against his face. The claws dug deep wounds like trenches, and in an instant Litast was stricken blind as both eyes were torn out. His jaw was ripped off at the hinge, hanging sickeningly to one side; his attempts at crying for mercy were turned into a pitiful gurgling. He felt a sharp pain in his back as the demon sunk his claws into his spine before ripping it out. Litast was flung forward and died before he the ground.
"Destroy the fortress."
In this interest of saving post space, I'll keep this brief. Man, it's not unusual for a single character to hold a town or fort for many years, but this is the first I saw deteriorate so rapidly. In 6 years they had lost 95% of their garrison. Litast was a mere guard with no kills to his name.
It's late, so we'll figure out the next thread tomorrow.