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« on: April 15, 2012, 08:56:24 pm »
Melbilonshen a 40d fort, was a large metropolis, with 220+ dwarves living in it. It started as a small camp, founded on the edge of chasm in foreboding, black hills surrounded by desert of crimson sand. Giant cave spiders, invasion of mole dogs, lack of equipment and goblins, first ten years only made the dwarves living in devote themselves to make the catacombs larger At the 25th year of it's existence, there was twice more dead in the coffins than the living inhabitants. The vishne, four-armed, blue-skinned, steel-clad giants were no longer a threat, the bulk of city army at last well trained and well supplied, the shortages of alloys and steel being filled. The Queen Idem Imcatten also arrived and instilled her iron laws, which allowed for the first prison to be built. Many perished in the prison cells but life has been made better. Traders brought exotic materials and foods, and the dwarves were buying them for lowest of prices, as the miners explored the sides of chasm for it's wealth. The masterwork aqueduct tunnel system was supplying the wells and farms with clean water, then it was going through waterfall-bathroom, to be dumped into the chasm - truly an object of jealousy in the whole known world
All was well... until one faithful day, on the summer 205...
"Hello Mayor Reg! Going outside with children again?" Asked Mosus, the only founder of the metropolis alive at this point - the others taken away by either insanity or wounds received in battles.
"Of course! Nice day to you, Mosus." The Mayor replied, holding a baby in her hands and flock of her other children following. Mayor for fifteen years, wife of Litast, who forged the sword called 'Destruction of Heavens', and he was talented in few other categories as well.
And so Reg took her three children on a trip outside, onto the hills.
"Look, mother! A superior pig tail sock dyed bronze, made from well-crafted thread!" Muthkat, one of the older daughters of Reg, was always a scavenger.
First bolts flew right through her head, killing her instantly, but her mother and her two siblings quickly joined the dead in dwarven Valhalla, if said place exists for dwarves, that's it.
The soldiers at the gate yelled and alerted the others, but it was too late - people whom they loved the most were dead. The soldiers, skilled veterans as well as dutiful, well-trained newcomers, made short work of the goblin menace that killed their brethren. And when they arrived at the fort, well...
"Mayor Reg was killed because you let her go to get a damn sock!"
"Her children where too young to die, why they were allowed outside!?"
"Stop bickering you fools or I will grab my steel pickaxe and then we will talk!"
The proud fortress that managed to withstand forces of nature and enemy armies for 25 years, easily fell prey to the tantrum spiral that erupted after the death of just four dwarves of the most prominent family. The army along with the city guard tried to instill order, but soon they themselves where fighting with others. Five dead, ten dead, fifty dead - the engravings on the walls, the historical images of hardship, bravery and prosperity, were gaining much life with the crimson paint splattering over them in gallons. The rooms were filling up with bodies, and the dining hall was full of bloody appendages, heads, clothes soaked in blood.
From more than 220, to just 6 in, what must've been, 30 minutes by our count? Four of the survivors greviously injured, moaning and weeping amongst their dead friends and comrades. The fifth survivor was a farmer, who hid in artificial cave at the beginning of this, now sobbing and talking to a plump helmet which was his only friend now. And the sixth survivor, where is he...?
No, not the barracks, check the bathroom maybe... no, not there either.
Maybe one of the meeting halls... no, he would be dead by now...
Oh look, he is at the top of his tower, let's check his-
*sounds of loud snoring can be heard*
*more snoring, and then a long yawn*
"Oh, by the love of Shilrar, these brick floors are so uncomfortable. I must get myself a chair or something..." Said the dwarven sentry, stretching a little and checking his crossbow. He felt the natural dwarven thirst, so he began descending his tower, and then, via few tunnels used by the warriors of Melbilonshen, he arrived at the food stockpilles, filled with alcohol barrels and dead bodies alike.
Only when he had his drink and went upstairs to the dining room, he understood what kind of massacre he has avoided by merely sleeping alone (as he had no real friends in the fortress). And then, he said what he thought was the most appropriate at the moment:
"Oh fuck."
YOUR SETTLEMENT HAS BEEN ABANDONED.
PS: First time I managed to write something 'in-character' about my largest and longest of forts. It's downfall occured not a full year ago. And it happened because of the most cliche of reasons - death of a popular mayor and her kids. The two survivors who would really count were a miserable farmer and said crossbowdwarf. The fact that he had no friends and that he was sleeping at the time of massacre in a remote watch tower pretty much saved his skin, I believe.
I saluted him, the fortress, and then abandoned the fortress to let it rest at last. I will always remember it fondly~