Turns out that dragonite is pretty light - two urists of weight to the eight(!) that some random maldium hammer was. I'm just going to assume that dragonite is good for edged weapons.
Sigun walked down the crowded hallway, reading a document while navigating the dwarves and miscellanious items strewn about. This particular scroll contained the details of the militia, with equipment lists, schedules, patrol routes, and even more technical detail. Leafing through the pages, she wondered why Deathsword or whoever had came before him had seen fit to order the militia to wear socks, hoods and gloves along with the rest of their armor. Speaking of which, the armor had peen patchwork, at best; Sigun had gone through every item on the list, checking it against the current equipment. All in all, she had forged or ordered about half the equipment the militia had needed the past three months.
There were other reports under that one; page after page of stockpile records (which Sigun kept on her person at all times), farm reports (she had changed the entire planting cycle to provide more crops; they had been growing cave molds, for Armok's sake), mining reports (enormous amounts of raw phazon and flarestone had been mined out)... documents, documents, documents. That wasn't counting the various situations she had to juggle; there was a swarm of (admittedly nonhostile) Ettin outside, there were unnamed monsters roaming the caverns (which had been accidentally breached), and a dozen tiny things that, as Overseer, Sigun was forced to... well, oversee.
"Overseer! Overseer Lecardrigoth!" The voice of one of the militia sounded out in alarm. "We're under attack!"
"Everyone, to the dining room! Now! Militia, form up here!" Sigun bellowed over the growing panic of the dwarves around her. The seven militia quickly rounded up all the straggling dwarves and snapped to attention in front of Sigun.
"What's it look like out there, Commander?" Sigun asked, addressing Bastsan, the militia commander.
"A half-dozen Greater Devourers, Overseer," he replied. "We can handle that many in direct combat, probably easily."
Sigun shook her head. "You're forgetting some mutual friends of ours, Commander. No need to get our hands dirty."
As if on cue, faint echoes of Ettin warcries came down through the dwarven tunnels. "However, it would be wise to keep tabs on the situation. Get out there, keep an eye on things and stand ready to intercept them if they manage to bypass the Ettin."
Bastsan saluted, then turned around and ran off through the tunnels leading to the surface, the remaining militia following on his heels.
Minkot crouched behind a cage, watching the entrance. He and his fellow speardwarves were each outfitted in brand-new bright blue armor, a metal called phazon. Each of them had little experience with the weapons they held now, but a spear was simple - poke them with the pointy end until the thing fell over dead. Not much to it.
As they watched, a single purple tentacle wrapped around the wall on the far side of the courtyard. Behind it came a horrifying monster, tooth-filled visage staring at them with evil red eyes and tentacles tipped with claws. This beast, however, was on its last legs; arrows of several colors were stuck in its side, and purple ooze slowly leaked from the wounds. The beast took a step forward and, with a click, an axe sprung from a hidden slot in the wall and took the creature's leg off at the knee. It fell to the ground with a moan and stayed there, not moving except for the rise and fall of its chest as it took in gulps of air.
A pair of arrows flew out of the forest just beyond Minkot's sight, striking the beast in the body and opening up more wounds.
"Everyone inside!" Bastsan yelled. Minkot knew the strategy immediately; get around a corner and hit the archers before they could use their range. As he ran down the stairs and into the fortress, he looked back at the fallen Devourer.
There, glaring at him with hate-filled eyes, was a half-snake, half-man abomination, a cruel-looking axe in one clawed hand and a shield in the other. It was saying something, spittle flying from its mouth and venom dripping from its gleaming fangs. Behind it, out of the shadows of the trees, crept a dozen or more slithering forms. The Devourer had acquired a few more arrows and a lot less blood and had stopped moving.
Suddenly, fighting these monsters head-on didn't seem like such a good plan anymore.
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Topic: Targetguild, a 31.25 MixMod Succession fort. (Read 14108 times)