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[Mr Frog]

Hastily-Added Note: I typed all this up, but then I actually read the damn thread and I don't really think this fits in. At all. But I've already written it, so meh.
----
In the Pregnant Hills there were five brothers.
The eldest, Elf, was fair as a woodland meadow and tall and wise as an ancient tree;
the second eldest, Dwarf, was close to the earth in body and mind, his soul as stoic and unmoving as the mountains;
the second youngest, Goblin, was as a knife-edge, small in size but great in passion and cunning, his creativity giving rise to such wonders as locks that could hold against any assault and mechanisms that functioned across any distance;
the youngest and smallest child, Kobold, was deeply curious, wriggling into every nook and cranny in search of hidden knowledge;
the middle child, Human, served as mediator; middle in age, size and opinion, as level and even as the great plains, he settled disputes between the five brothers.

They lived in peace together in the hills, by the divine grace of ARMOK.

However, one day, Kobold asked of the others:
"Brothers, why is it that Elf is tall and fair while us four are squat and homely?" His inquisitive eyes pressed upon them. But they did not know the reason for this inequity.
Seeking answers, they asked of ARMOK:
"Father, why, in your wisdom, have you seen fit to bless Elf with such grace, wisdom, and beauty while leaving us bereft of such gifts?"
And lo, ARMOK replied:
"To see what'll happen."
Such is the wisdom of the Almighty Judicator.

But lo, the five brothers were dissatisfied with the Almighty's wisdom, and began to fight amongst themselves.

"Churl! Churl! Spoiled little brat!" cried Goblin at Elf, gnashing his teeth. "Why should you receive the most gifts?" "Such injustice!" yelled Dwarf. Human watched in silence; Kobold, terrified by his elder brothers' outbursts, scampered away.
Elf merely laughed and said: "How impudent of you, to question the Almighty's wisdom! We were each given such gifts as we merited; clearly, I was the most deserving!"
"Such pride!" roared Dwarf; "Let's see if you can measure up to your boasts, tree-hugger!" he said, tackling his brother to the grass. Howling with rage, Goblin leapt upon the pair, clawing at Elf's face; Elf screamed as one, then another of his ears were ripped off of his head by Goblin's claws. Human watched from the sidelines, his face a mask.

And lo, ARMOK returned from his sandwich break, and was shocked by what he saw before him. Though he implored the brothers to cease their fighting, they refused to hearken to him; finally, he threatened them with carp, and they stopped.

And ARMOK said from the heavens, "Shame be upon you, for fighting amongst each other like animals! You are brothers, yet you do battle as mortal foes!" Dwarf and Goblin hung their heads; Goblin dropped a lock of golden hair he had pulled out. On the ground, Elf whimpered pathetically.

"Dwarf," ARMOK dictated, "for questioning my wisdom, I condemn you and all of your progeny. All shall die violent deaths; all of your settlements shall drown in a river of your people's blood. Water will taste of vomit to you; only the poisonous essence of rotting fruit shall slake your thirst."
"Goblin, your passion and wit has given way to fury and hatred. Your children, and your children's children, and every generation thereafter shall know only rage; no other emotion will cross their hearts, and they will live with nothing but hatred for all of Creation."

ARMOK had not finished. "Human, you are a coward."
Human prostrated himself before the glory of ARMOK. "Whatever could I have done to displease you, Father?"
ARMOK, who claims knowledge of the hearts of all men, replied: "You claim to be a mediator. You strive to be impartial and just in all things. But on this matter, you were not. By not intervening, you implicitly gave your blessing to this brutality. Neither shall your descendants concern themselves with others; they will be repulsed by all who are not like them, and all ideologies other than their own will be incomprehensibly alien."

Meanwhile, Elf lay on the ground, bemoaning his fate. ARMOK turned his attention to him. "Those you trusted most have turned on you, mutilating you. You shall have protection from me; neither the beasts of the wild nor the sands of time will ravage you, for fear of my wrath. I will grant you new ears to replace those that were rent from your head; no sound will escape their notice."

And thus, his will having been done, ARMOK departed unto the chaos beyond the heavens, saying: "Don't make me come down here again."

Since that day, the history of dwarves has been stained with blood; from the ancient, near-mythical fortress of Boatmurdered to the blasted oceanside settlement of Battlefailed, misfortune would claim the lives of all dwarves, their bloodstains a testament to the glory of ARMOK. All dwarves therafter were slaves to alcohol, its poison killing what violence, fire and clowns could not. The sun's touch was anathema to them.

All of the cunning of goblinkind would be devoted entirely to warfare. They would never again create anything new; they would spread only destruction, upon both others and themselves.

Humans retreated to the plains, far away from others unlike them; when they came across other races, they would seek assimilation or destruction, never compromise or learning.

Kobold, filled with guilt over sparking the conflict, retreated deep into caves, only showing his face to the sun when his curiosity overcame him. His brothers grew to see him as a coward and instigator, and hatred towards kobolds continues to this day.

The Elves, disdainful of their lesser kin, retreated deep into the forest, not fearing wild beasts or the passage of time. However, their pride prevents them from learning; they exist in stasis, their society never evolving. For the elves, peaceful death from old age would become a mere fantasy; every elf would meet its end through violence, and the dwarves and goblins would be more than happy to provide it.

[Naz]

From The Book of Id:

Early on in the Age of Myths, the dwarves of the mountainhomes had become troubled. Each day Led Sackdabblers would ascend the peak and despair for arrayed before her were lands that stretched beyond sight. Lands the dwarves knew nothing of for they were consumed with the task of simple survival as ancient beasts clawed their way from the depths, the miserable goblin scourge sought their demise and the haughty elves attempted to enforce their will upon the stout folk. The dwarves themselves, being true children of the earth, fought with the stoicism of the stones themselves but could gain no ground for though the valiant warriors reaped a great tally of slain foes and rightful tribute to Armok, they were outnumbered and contained in the mountainhome.

So it was that Led, while sleeping off several kegs of ale, was visited by a vision of Armok appearing as a male dwarf, beard and hair aflame, resplendent in the finest plate armor which was in turn drenched in blood that never dried and wielding a great hammer of iron and bone. In this vision the father of the mountains told Led that for her people to prosper, they must expand.

"But Lord, we are besieged. If we are to attempt to migrate we shall be slain before we travel a stone's throw" She moaned.

Armok fixed her with his blazing stare and gave a wry smile, "A large group would be spotted and killed indeed. Go in a smaller group, take only the bare minimum and make your escape. Seven is my sacred number and seven is how many of your kin will be able to escape."

Led bolted awake, her mind singing with the wisdom of the Blood Lord and swirling with both possibility and the after effects of *dwarven ale*. She immediately sought out her friend Id Allyboards and together they made plans to slip away from the mountainhome. They gathered what supplies could be carried in a single wagon along with a few cats, dogs and other animals. Volunteers were called for and, at first, no one paid heed for a child had organized a party at a Schist Statue but after much yelling and a few empty flagons to the head an intrepid party of pioneers was organized.

Everything was in readiness but the vile goblins still sat outside the mountainhome, poised to kill any dwarf who got whiff of a sock or a stray loincloth.

"What shall we do Led?" asked Cerol Whineypants.

"Trust in me and in Armok, we shall be seen through this" She replied. At that moment, like a gift from the heavens themselves, an elven diplomat appeared at the crest of a nearby hill. "Bleeding wonderful...", sighed Urist Gildlances, "Bet you a cat tallow roast he's here to complain at us for the trees the goblins cut down."

"No, look! Armok has sent us an unexpected boon!" Cried Led, pointing at the hill. Surely enough the goblins had noticed the elf and had immediately sent a major detachment to pursue and, hopefully, skin the scrawny prick alive. "Now is our chance!" With that the expedition was able to slip out of the mountainhome and make it into the wilderness, the joyful sounds of an elf having his limbs pulled off following them on the breeze the whole way.

They journeyed for many weeks, mapping and naming the land as they traveled while Led sought a sign from Armok as to where they should settle. They passed over the Hills of Lethargy, through the Marsh of Curiosity, past the river that Zon Restbelches oddly named the Flow of Itching and into the scorching desert they dubbed the Sands of Dryness for they had run out of original ideas some days before. That night, as Led slept, Armok appeared to her again. This time the Great One appeared to her through his servant, the Divine Toad.

"You have walked far", The Great Amphibian spoke, "And it is here, in these sands that you shall build your fortress, Dustsabres. Work hard, ere the scorpions get hungry. Do this for the glory of Armok.  Now go, STRIKE THE EARTH!"

Led awoke, the final croak of the toad still echoing in her mind. She took her pick from the wagon and, with whispered thanks to Armok, began to dig. She dug all through the night and when her companions awoke in the morning a great tunnel had appeared in the ground. The party descended into the cool dark and there they found Led, carving out rooms from the living stone. "What is this?", Cerol moaned, "We are to settle in this forsaken desert?"

"Do shut up Cerol.", Id replied, "This is clearly where it is willed that our new home be built so why don't you take some of these stones and get a still up and running?"

"We have no water to irrigate with Id. I can build you as fine a still as you have ever seen but what am I to brew, sand?"

Upon hearing Cerol's most recent bout of complaining, Led appeared at the top of a staircase she'd been digging. "I have found a vast lake far down under the ground, the water there could fulfill our needs for years but we would need to get it up here else it will do us no good." She looked over at Id who had been playing with a couple of rocks. "Any suggestions?"

Id pondered for a moment then, in the process of trying to eat a piece of mica, was seized with inspiration. "I have it! Also this tastes terrible. Led, we need the water from that lake but we all know what lives in the deep parts of the world. If you can help me build a secure path to the water I think I may have way to bring the water up with minimal effort on our part."

With that the two of them set off into the depths, Id describing a new way to carve rocks with notches so that when one turned, any others linked to it would also move. For many days the sound of digging came from the depths until one day, when the other companions had almost given up hope and were reduced to eating the insects that roamed their newly dug halls, Led and Id emerged.

"Whatever have you been doing?, asked Zon, "We are starving and all the booze is gone. Not to mention Litast seems to have befriended a rather large chunk of orthoclase."

"Fear not", Led assured them, "Id and I have been hard at work and salvation is at hand. My friends, observe." With that she walked over to a protrusion of rock that no one else had noticed before and pulled it. "This fellows, is a lever. A new concept of Id's" Miraculously, the protrusion actually moved when pulled and, to the shock of everyone except Litast, who was engaged in a heated argument with the large, yellow boulder, a section of wall slid away and water began to rush out of a strange amalgamation of spinning things, coating the bare rock with a wonderful carpet of mud.

From that day forth Dustsabres never wanted for food again and, in time, more dwarves managed to slip out of the mountain home and made their way into the Sands of Dryness. So the fortress grew. Armok looked down from the heavens and was pleased, loosing a deep laugh that caused a volcano to erupt near an elven retreat, incinerating every resident, and it was good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanted to start off with one innovation. If you guys like it I'll write about the invention of weapon traps and FTW systems.

[NotPete]

Hastily-Added Note: I typed all this up, but then I actually read the damn thread and I don't really think this fits in. At all. But I've already written it, so meh.

I wouldn't worry about it. If there's one thing I know about religions, and I know quite a bit (I took a class!), its that there are often different texts with different stories on the same events. Not every one can agree on what's cannon and that's how different sects are formed. Not every story/book makes it into the "final draft". For a nifty example, look up the Gospel of Thomas. I'm just happy to see this thread alive again.

[Karakzon]

ill have to look into compilation again sometime. but im celebrating my bday tomorrow so yeah. not gonna happen soon.

[Mr Frog]

In the dwarven fortress of Inkbones, deep in the marshlands of the south, countless dwarves worked for seven years on a wondrous device which would divert the fiery marrow of the land from the depths of the earth to a series of tubes hanging in the sky.

Morul Bronzepages, legendary architect, had drawn countless images detailing the construction and operation of the device, every aspect of the design calculated and precise; each sketch and footnote was a masterpiece in and of itself.
Zuntir Irongears, grandmaster mechanic, had produced the hundreds of steel mechanisms required for the task, each one an incomparable work of art.
Bomrek Stonehalls, high master mason, had laid every stone and brick of the construction with his own hands.
Urist McMetalsmith, metalsmith, had worked tirelessly to forge the many corkscrews, pipes, blocks, and floodgates required to carry the dwarve's plans to operation.
Finally, a thought will be given to the six unnamed miners who dug tunnels deep into the earth's heart, so that its fiery might would be harnessed, as well as to the dozens of dwarves that assisted in the construction in any way they could.

On the first day of the dwarve's labor, the anonymous dwarf assigned to build the twentieth left-hand pump helpfully replaced the iron pipe section specified in the plans with a better-quality pipe made of silver.

On the day of the device's activation, seven years, hundreds of mechanisms, innumerable metal parts, and an unquantifiable amount of dwarven labor later, the fortress of Inkbones perished in fire.

----
While this is less relevant to mechanisms than it is to megaprojects* (should we have a book for that, I wonder?), I think we should have a cautionary tale in here. Like all things in DF, the study and application of mechanisms has both a Light side and a Derp side.

*Unless you count screw pumps as a kind of mechanism, which I guess isn't such a long shot.

[Rowanas]

In the book of Iron, seventh of the ten books of the Grimoire of Armok, it is written:

Touch not of the microcline, for the hue is of elven hubris.
Touch not of the orthoclase, for the hue is of goblin pestilence.
Touch not of the galena, for the hue is of kobold thievery.

Let only those stones which bear the blood of Armok untarnished into your homes and arts.