The reports were filled with promise. A mountainside dwarven fortress, a great temple of fire, acres of gold and silver. Many to slay. This would be the most profitable raid Stozu Liecombined had ever taken part in. And as it was all his idea, he was feeling immensely proud of himself.
His squad had assembled at the fore of the main bridge leading into the depths of the Dwarven fortress Deathgate, rumoured to house a great hoard of treasure as well as a direct route to the Underworld. If they could just find a way to root out the Beards infesting the place, they'd have a fine palace to move into. But first they'd have to get past the bridge to the entrance: a narrow causeway littered with the broken bodies of trolls and goblins that incorrectly thought to defeat the traps by determination alone. Stozu knew they'd been wrong, and felt a certain amount of pride as he gazed down at their mangled corpses from the platform above.
"You sure this is a good idea?" asked one of the speargoblins in his squad. It was Osto, a recruit greener than jade; this was his first raid and the first day he had been covered in blood that didn't belong to him. Bits of organic matter clung to the edge of his spear, defying the wind that blew their florescent haircuts upward.
"I'm sure." Stozu pointed at the bridge below, at a long serrated disk stuck in a troll's leg, half buried in the tile of the bridge below. "See those blades stuck out on the floor? The trap is jammed. It'll be safe if we drop down there."
"Are you sure?" The speargoblin peered down suspiciously.
"I've been doing this a hundred years, Osto. I know a jammed trap when I see one!"
"Does jammed mean that it can't hurt us?"
"Yes, idiot, as long as you don't jump into it. If we drop down carefully, we can shoot inside and slaughter the vermin before they even know we're here."
Osto looked incredulous, and glanced back and forth between their fellow squadmates, who shared similar expressions of concern, and the bridge below, hosting a truly impressive number of dead goblins. "I'm not sure about this," he said sheepishly.
"Too bad," Stozu said, "'Cause I am. Now get ready to jump, on three! One, two..."
The goblin's blood fell cold as a disembodied voice seemed to permeate through the very stone floor they stood upon. "Intruders are unwelcome at Deathgate," it said in a hollow, dwarven-accented voice. "Begone to whence ye came, or thou wilt surely perish."
What in the seven hells? wondered Stozu.
"What was that?" asked Osto, who shifted his yellow eyes nervously down the bridge, to see nothing and no one there.
"I haven't even the slightest idea," Stozu said.
"It's just that you've been doing this a hundred years, and this is my first..."
"Shut up, Osto! Just get ready to jump."
The voice came about them again, and the stone beneath began to vibrate in menace. "Intruders are unwelcome at Deathgate!" the voice cried in earnest. "Begone!"
"Come on, fellows," Stozu said. "Let's get down there. It takes more than scary voices to deter the goblins of -"
Stozu trailed off as a translucent figure manifested between the goblin squad. A pale, ghostly dwarf stared at them unhappily from within their midst. With worried shouts, the goblins backed away from the apparirion, shakily clutching their weapons.
"A ghost!" Stozu gasped. "Now I've seen everything." He raised his hands toward his troops. "Have no fear, fellows! I've heard about ghosts in my time, and believe me, they cannot hurt us. They only focus their vengeance upon their own brethren! There's nothing this ghost can do to us. In fact," Stozu turned to the consternate ghost glaring at him, "I bet he'll help us if we agree to bury his body. Isn't that right, Mr. Ghost? Your bodies been desecrated, hasn't it?" Never mind that Stozu was in fact wearing a dwarf bone bracelet; the ghost did not need to know what kind of bone it was.
"He doesn't look too friendly, boss," said Osto as he backed away slowly. "Maybe we should go?"
"Nonsense," said Stozu, and he strode forward with his clawed hand extended in as friendly a greeting he could muster.
Thus was the the end of Stozu Liecombined and his entire squad, with the exception of Osto, who would run away screaming at the sight of a dwarven ghost throttling his leader, only to be eaten by a bear in the woods several days later.
* * *
Journal of Overseer Sethol Romancedworks, undatedI've arrived at Deathgate to the usual lack of pomp and circumstance I've come to associate with new postings. I've overseen over thirty settlements for the Basement of Murders and not once was I ever offered cake on arrival. Mom always taught me to serve cake for newcomers to the fort but it's like no one else in the world outside of Clockwater ever heard of that. At any rate, former "overlord" Scaliper has been retired to a generous pension along with his existing quarters. I've taken up a new office overlooking our fancy temple, which I'm told is only a couple years old.
It'll be a busy year for these laybouts. My desk is covered in a mess of work orders that shall undoubtedly multiply throughout the foreseen months. We've got a new main stairwell in the works connecting the main areas of the fortress to the Underworld stronghold to allow better access to those deepest caverns. All immportant fortress personnel are being ordered to carry weapons, and our standing military force is to increase in number sixfold. A lesser priority, though one of concern all the same, is to bury all the bodies scattered across our halls. The howling spirits they belong to are keeping everyone up at night.
This place is a hellhole. Obviously, there's the literal sense: these bastards have dug a fort straight into the Underworld itself and haven't had the common decency to seal it off! There's nothing between us and legions of the damned aside from a few microcline hatches. What's more, these dwarves saw fit to build a small outpost on the shores of Hell itself. These blasphemous actions have been duly encouraged. After all, to oversee such an absurdly dwarven endeavor is a pride to my soul, if a wrench in the gears of common sense. Who wants to be common anyway?
There's a lovely pump of magma just begging to be exposed to the surface, so the miners are digging a new pipeline to dump the blood of the earth upon its surface. Let those who come to defile this place burn in mortal agony under a sea of molten rock as I laugh and drink whiskey in Hell.
I'll be heading down there later, in fact. I'm told the outpost is sealed off and completely safe, which I'm certain is a lie. However, "completely safe" usually means "safe enough" so I'll take my chances. I've just got to see this Underworld place with my own eyes.
I ventured down half the way before stopping in a nearby dining room for a drink and a pen. Before that I stumbled into the hospital, but a stone's throw away from the trade depot. Terrible place, festering with dead dwarves in the beds, unburied and forsaken. It's no wonder the place is haunted when this is how we treat our dead and ill. I must have a word with the Chief of Medicine.
Further down I passed through a dusty corridor where lay the defeated husks of unfathomable monsters, crushed under tons of rock that still sat caked with their unholy ichor. I expected to see demons when I saw how much adamantine was floating around the place, and let me tell you, it isn't too much more comfortable seeing them when they're dead.
Here it is. The Underworld. Not quite as enlightening a sight as I'd hoped.
I'm off to find another drink now. From what I hear there is more than enough alcohol to spare, and by the look of the place, I expect to need plenty of it.
Oh crap,
The journal ends abruptly.* * *
Juana was dwarfed as a marksdwarf with five notable kills, one a forgotten beast. She has a hatred of oysters and is "not a risk taker."
So I opened the gate to hell and a demon and a forgotten beast came in shortly afterward. Any thoughts? My instinct is to gather the military and zerg rush them.
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Topic: Deathgate - And We Must Scream (Finished Succession Game) (Read 866524 times)