End of Summer
----
The ambushes came hard and vicious, right on the heels on the human caravan. The humies were caught on the slop of the mountain and despite fighting valiantly fell to the onslaught. Within the warm walls of Beguiledbreakfast dwarves discussed their options. The choice was made to keep all civilians inside and risk the militia to mop up the goblin squad which had spent most its arrows on the humans.
The militia rushed out and a few stragglers from the outside rushed in. Ambush! Ambush! Ambush! The deaths came swift now, one after the other:
We met the goblins right by the valley of fiery death, a dwarf in front of me, Tun, took several arrows. Nearby another fell, overwhelmed by lashers. The new recruits. All the new recruits. The goblins were going through them like a hot knife through dwarf cheese. Tun was still screaming for help when the order came to fall back. We were letting loose the magma. Return to Armok, Tun Iklistzulban
We were inside not for a minute as anguished screaming came from the forges--a group of goblins got through before the magma hit. Got through and took to shooting civilians in a tight hallway. One dwarf, the very one who had pulled the lever paused for an instant, distracted by the ghost that appeared suddenly. He took an arrow to the leg and fell screaming in pain. With horror I realized it was Simianvisage, our best metalcrafter that was the target of their shots. Simian took arrow after arrow, he slipped in his own blood, fell onto a pierced hand, screamed from pain and lost consciousness. Another arrow pierced his shoulder. Simian struggled up, running. He had taken another before the militia myself leading turned the corner. I removed the goblins feet while Momuz smashed a skull. They'll call him the Future Passage of Oars now. Why? He smashed a goblins skull in before my eyes, that's why, ye son of an elf!
Not just one either. He alone faced the other bow goblin. Clever this one was, and picked a spot safe and sound and mighty dangerous to all dwarves that came for him.
Momuz proved quite able, rushing past three arrows, leaping over a magma gap and crashing into the goblin archer at the full speed an iron bound, hammer-wielding warrior (who also happens to be a great cook and talented architect) can muster.
Only teeth flew into the magma.
I had had it. The goblins were milling around my glorious armorstand. I had set in near the entrance of my design, intending to capture the attention of trolls, so they did not ruin my hatches. Our revenge was at hand.
I ordered that the lever be pulled.
The screams began in earnest, horrid screams, as terrible as any immortal creature can harness. I began to get nostalgic (screaming, burning elves always remind me of my childhood). One goblin appeared trap between two staircases, magma kept just brushing past him, burning off here his face, here part of his hand.
Our counts reported the goblins gone, slaughtered, melted or bleeding to death with magma inching closer. Two final stragglers were taking potshots at guard animals milling by the trade depot. Our grizzly war dead, the mandril screaming, and the wolf kept passing out from its injuries.
We rushed out screaming for battle. The last surviving new recruit took a bolt to the heart. She gasped out her husbands name and passed quickly. The goblins were not so lucky:
Taking stock of our injured and dead I realized that Simianvisage, our arrow-battered smith was very much alive and even happy. That is one tough motherfucker:
. Lets hope he survives the inevitable infections.
The rest of the fall goes uneventfully. I expand the magma trap modifying it according to what I observed of the goblin dynamics.
That evening as I entered the training room I felt a hush. Momus stopped me. "Goat, there is something you should know, but you ain't gonna like it'
"Another ambush, gods be true!" I rushed for my sword.
"No, it's nothing like that" Momus sighed. " It your artifact. It be gone."
I laughed, "that cannot be, me comrade, not a force in the world can destory an artifact of the dwarves people: why I meself am known as the creator of Sidstigaz"
"No such thing exists anymore" sighed Momuz with infinite sadness and confusion
I felt no sadness, none of the anguish of dwarf who loses a masterpiece. I was fine. So. So the gods took it.
Another sacrifice to Armok.
I meself worship Tuman, god of travelers and hospitality, and Idor, the male god of pregnancy and rain (and we Idorians ain't all some kind of perverts, tis' simply not true), so I do not care for such bloodthirsty gods as Armok, but perhaps the magma trap's fine functioning is benefit of the god's favor, and I shall see my beloved weaponrack in the afterlife.
The fall continued uneventfully, the ghost still lingered by the levers.
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Topic: Beguiledbreakfast begins here!(Succession game)(Please read Rules) (Read 7444 times)