I was taken by a Fey Mood yesterday, and I felt compelled to flesh out a story about the lives of two of the dwarves in my fortress. The story penned is mostly true, with some poetic license taken to fill in gaps for information not generated by the game. The story is unpolished, as it was written in Notepad without formatting or grammar checks. Without further ado, I present:
The Bone Carver and the Fisherdwarf1
Let me tell you a story about my friends. Monom 'Paintnotch' Logemlisat and Cog 'Crushstandards' "mlombar.
Monom was born in 193 to Lor Cunningshields and Stakud Flankedspears at their home in Tourblazes, a holding of the dwarven nation The Angelic Fences. His mother was a Soapsmith and reserve warrior. She is known for killing the ettin Azkob in 200. His father was a Diagnosis and Triage worker with some military experience. At the age of 14, Monom became old enough to work, and settled into the simple life as a Fisherdwarf and Fishery Worker. Stayed in Tourblazes for many years, watching his only relatives - his mother and father - die to Sasquatch and Bronze Colossus attacks, respectively. With nothing left for him there, he moved to the new outpost Rhymedwinds, which had recently "regained their sense after an initial period of questionable judgment," signalling that the overseer had left to form a new outpost. Things were in a bad way at Rhymedwinds. The queen was now in charge of day to day affairs. Recognizing that he would only become more stressed at the management, he moved further into the wilds. Almost exactly a year later in 261, he settled at the outpost Matchedbridge as one of the first migrants. This is the latest undertaken of the great dwarven overseer.
Cog was born in 136 to Tobul Pagerung "the Messianic Plains of Magic" and Nil Ringedslap in Scouredblockade. His mother was a dabbling Wrestler and Lye Maker. His father was a wandering Glassmaker. When Cog turned 14, he decided to get into Bone Carving to satisfy his desire to create a masterwork someday. At 16, he married the 15 year old Mistem Hamepoint, a Mason and promising young Hunter. The couple had a total of 18 children. Each one was abducted from their care by a nearby Goblin and Bandit settlement. Distraught, they decided to move away from their home which had caused them so much grief to the thriving Rhymedwinds in 257 at the tender ages of 124 and 123. In 260, Cog was overcome by a fey mood and created the legendary artifact The Faded Demon, a bone bracelet. For the next year, he consistantly produced masterwork quality items of bone and tooth. After the overseer's retirement at Rhymedwinds, he lingered for some time without creating anything notable before taking his wife and moving to the thriving Matchedbridge.
Things at Matchbridge were not as wonderful as some had hoped. The Siege of Lancers in 261 had strewn bodies of dead goblins and dwarves around the entrance of the fort. The design of the fort incorporated a long, straight hallway from the dug entrance to the river. The hallway had been built from logs and covered with a phyllite ceiling to keep the commuting dwarves happy. Monom had helped build these structures. He knew that the overseer had his best interest in mind while working, but that didn't stop him from becoming frustrated by having to see the disgusting sun and piles of vomit spewed from his equally disgusted fellow builders. The hallway, during sieges, would be the main access route for invading armies, but they never successfully pushed underground due to noble efforts of the fortress military and clever traps designed by the corps of engineers. Every time they were attacked, the hauler dwarves would go and loot the dead after the all clear was raised. The frustrated Monom could not bear to haul the mangled corpses or blood covered socks, so he decided to spend these periods fishing. To access the fishing area, he had to walk through the blood-decked hall to his spot on the riverbank. At least he was covered from the sun. That helped reduce the unhappy thoughts he experienced.
In the Spring of 264, when Cog arrived, he was assigned to a craftdwarf's facility and went back to his old job carving bone and decorating trinkets with bone from the butchered farm animals kept underground. His wife was immediately drafted into a new military squad specializing in crossbow use. In her 133 years, she had developed into a fine huntress, and her skills with the crossbow were needed to defend from the expected goblin hordes. Cog worked happily, creating many masterwork pieces that brought great wealth to the fort.
Monom was having trouble coping. The death all around him became too much to bear. He sunk into a depression first. With no desire to carry his fishing haul back to the stockpile, he suddenly stopped, sat down, and tried to remember how to cry. He sat in the entrance hall for days among the rotten entrails of goblins and fallen soldiers. Most of the goblin dead had decayed so that only a skeleton remained. A dump was designated to deal with the goblin corpses, but the disposal method was unfinished. Since dwarves are principled and refuse to use body parts of intelligent species in crafts and foods, the bodies have little value. Things of little value must be dumped then destroyed, but that takes time. The miners were still working on digging a hole into the magma sea to permanently remove such bodies. So there he sat in the boneyard hall. His thirst for ale finally overcame him and he summoned the strength to get up and get a drink.
The autumn was quiet by the standards of the fort. Craftdwarves were crafting, haulers were hauling, warriors were training, and nobles were lazing. In the early winter, they arrived.
2
On the 2nd of Moonstone 264, the goblin army of The Washed Cruelties arrived. The Sieges of Lancing were the first to near the fort. Reinforcements of blizzard men in a squad called The Siege of Slaughters were not far behind. The trading area was sealed and the dwarves recalled into the fort. The military was activated. Elites were stationed inside the fort proper, archers were set back within the hallway, and skirmishers were stationed at the front lines. The goblins and blizzard men were temporarily baffled by some cage traps set into the wilds near their approach. They held their position for a long time. Bored and agitated, the skirmishers charged the enemy ranks. Several were cut down instantly by Bax Girdermenaced and Ngebzo Pillardungeons - two of the forward goblin macemen. The skirmishers were not a disciplined lot, and quickly panicked as expected. The retreating dwarves dove for cover in the hallway as the goblin ranks charged. The blizzard men flanked left and climbed the wall into a nearby enclosed pasture. They were met by the animals stationed there - horses. After a stray turkey was struck down, and the horses panicked. Their hooves and teeth tore the humanoids to bits. The goblins charged the hall into a hail of crossbow bolts. Quarters were tight, so the injuries were quick on the front lines, but enraged goblin macemen took it on their shields. Ngezbo stepped into a trap and she was immediately stuck in a cage. Bax dodged the falling rock traps and broke into the ranged troops. Mistem Hamepoint, Cog's wife of over a hundred years, was not the only casualty, but she was was the only death to Bax's iron mace. As he charged the remaining ranged troops, Bax stumbled into a cage trap. The two macegoblins are still prisoners in Matchedbridge to this day.
After the elites were activated, the seige was quickly broken. They mopped up the tired and wounded invaders without suffering loss. Cog was stricken with grief at the news that the only relation he had in the world was gone. He was truly alone, trapped in this maddening hellhole. He stopped producing masterworks to grieve. Monom started his first tantrum during the siege. He had attacked a farmer and toppled a carpenter's bench. After sinking into depression while carrying the dead and their items back from the monstrous hallway, he was finally apprehended by the Gendarmes and confined for a month in the chains.
By the midsummer of 265, Cog was back to his old self. He was still distraught and alone, but he went back to making his wonderful works of art. He didn't have to walk far to do this, so he could be productive. The refuse pile was built next to his workbench. The mass of bodies that had accrued were increasingly not usable. He was disgusted by having to look at the corpse of something that was once living and intelligent like the goblins and blizzard men. Over time, miasma started to spew forth from the rotting carcasses. Cog was disgusted by this. He was horrified by the conditions he had to work in. Finally, he snapped. He attacked a few dwarves, even sending one to the hospital. A Guard approached him and attempted to detain him. He hit the Guard. This went poorly. Guards tend to be decently trained warrior specialists in this fort. Each is assigned the profession of Gendarme and spends his day training in his steel armor or hauling heavy rocks while policing. The Guard retaliated and Cog took a beating:
The Gendarme punches The Bone Carver in the right hand with her left hand, bruising the fat through the ðpig tail fiber right mittenð!
The Bone Carver stands up.
The Gendarme punches The Bone Carver in the left lower arm with her left hand, bruising the fat through the giant cave spider silk cloak!
The Bone Carver stands up.
The Gendarme kicks The Bone Carver in the left eyelid with her left foot, bruising the skin through the giant cave spider silk cloak!
The Bone Carver stands up.
The Gendarme punches The Bone Carver in the left hand with her left hand, bruising the fat through the (pig tail fiber left glove)!
The Bone Carver stands up.
The Gendarme punches The Bone Carver in the right lower arm with her right hand, bruising the fat through the giant cave spider silk cloak!
The Bone Carver stands up.
The Gendarme punches The Bone Carver in the right foot with her right hand, bruising the fat through the (sheep wool shoe)!
The Bone Carver stands up.
The Gendarme punches The Bone Carver in the left foot with her right hand, bruising the bone through the (pig tail fiber shoe)!
The Bone Carver stands up.
The Gendarme punches The Bone Carver in the left upper arm with her right hand, bruising the fat through the giant cave spider silk cloak!
The Gendarme punches The Bone Carver in the lower body with her left hand, bruising the muscle and bruising the pancreas through the (honey badger leather trousers)!
Cog was taken into custody and hauled down to the chains. The guard gave him one last punch in the lower body. It was a gelding blow. Cog, in chains, alone, angry, and neutered gave in to pain in his cell.
3
When he awoke, he had a new cellmate. He was met by the stares of the empty eyes of a fisherdwarf with nothing left to lose. Monom nodded at him. They sat there without speaking for some time. Monom was leaking blood out of his mouth and Cog instinctively held himself where his dwarfhood used to be. A well adorned fat dwarf came into the holding cells with a bucket on his hand and a smile on his face. They both recognized him immediately. He was Melbil Channelsoldier - legendary miner, legendary appraiser, broker, Mayor of Matchedbridge, and Duke of the surrounding countryside. Melbil was known for being a kind and altruistic dwarf. Much of his good reputation came from his generosity and understanding of others. Cog meekly thanked him for his kindness and took a sip of the vile liquid contained inside. The incarcerated to not have access to the requisite alcohol reserved for good citizens. Melbil turned toward Monom, expecting similar gratitude. Monom let out a small giggle. A trickle of blood ran out of his mouth. Melbil winced slightly. That made Monom laugh even more. Red blood sprayed from his mighty guffaw. Strands of ravaged gums and a few shattered teeth were all that remained of his teeth. Cog questioned the man's sanity.
"I can' 'ook at 'at bwon wibbou' 'ee de emgwabigs."
It took Cog a moment to process the gummed speech from this toothless young hooligan. Then it hit him. There is a spot on the floor of the common meeting area directly behind the duke's chair and table with an engraving with Melbil's likeness. The fraught duke is reaching out above a sea of roaches. He appears to be drowning in them. Melbil hated roaches. The engraver who designed that image should be happy that the duke was so well cared for there. An unhappier ruler would have not bore the offense through gritted teeth as Melbil chose to. Cog snorted a chuckle into the water pail. He had seen lives and civilizations come and go in his century of life, but nobles never changed.
Monom had apparently exerted quite a bit by speaking with such fresh wounds. Cog tried not to think what the whitish strands dangling from the maligned flesh were. Sobs of pain kept Cog up through most of the night. He wasn't in wonderful shape, but his wound had healed over during his rest. All that remained was the scarring. The pain drove Monom madder and madder. He threw a tantrum the second night. Cog had to stand and defend himself from the flurry of blows from the raging fisherdwarf. Occasionally, his chained companion would grant him reprieve by directing his fury at inanimate objects. One of the beds in the holding cell didn't survive very long, and several of the engraved panels that made the room less glum were smashed and micturated upon by this god of wrath. He would eventually tire, but the screaming would not stop. Cog felt bad for the dwarves who lived a wall away from them, but not as bad as he felt for himself. Armok bless this well crafted iron chain that separates us.
Inside Monom was not consumed by wrath. He was coping with the shame of imprisonment the only way he knew how. Militia parents do not a well adjusted Dwarf make. His tantrums were still present, but he regained a more lucid outlook as it faded. He could only watch with equal shame as he inflicted his wrath on his surroundings. He didn't mind beating on his cellmate. In moments when he had control of his own actions he had learned that the wizened old one was named Cog, a name he had heard many times when the bookkeeper was mumbling to himself. In their talking as time passed they delved into one another's psyche. Monom came to realize that while he used to abhor fighting, he now craved it. He actually noticed happier thoughts when he struck at Cog. Cog had experienced great loss, and found that he no longer was proud of any of his masterworks. Grief had carried him too far from the dwarf he once was.
After a few weeks, Cog was released. As he walked to work on his first day, he passed by a finely crafted engraving and took note. He suddenly realized what Monom meant by "pinsink eecocks" when asked about the crime that led to his incarceration. There it was, an engraving by that bold artist known for his satirical take on history, an engraving of Monom the fisherdwarf surrounded by peafowl. Monom looked ready for battle.
Cog had toughened in prison. He learned to hold his own against the little bastard of a roommate. He had taken quite a few hits to the head. He was unaware sometimes. His memory wasn't what it was when he went in. After a long day of trying to craft the bones again, he went to sleep in his bed. The room was emptier than he remembered. He knew that would change when his wife returned from her archery practice or hunting. He slept on the side of the bed so she wouldn't have to move him when she came back.
He awoke a few hours later, alone. His wife never returned from her work. He kept asking himself where she was. He left the room and spoke with some of the children in the meetinghall. They didn't know who he was asking for and went back to having a party at one of the statues. Melbil happened by, his pickaxe in hand as he left to go work on one of the underground structures. Cog caught him by the elbow and asked him. A somber look came across Melbil's face, and he pointed toward one of the slabs at the end of the room and took his leave. Shooing a peacock that was missing a leg and too many feathers, Cog approached the slab. Mistem's slab.
Cog was taken by depression. It all came flooding back to him. He must have stood there for a great while, because when he realized it had been days since he had a proper drink, he found himself in the same spot, wearing a day old party hat. His eyes glazed over and he decided maybe he should haul some things from the hallway back to the fort. His wife and the other archers might need to supplies when they returned from training. He missed her so much.
Upon Monom's release he was assigned to hauling duties again. He wanted to go fishing in his favorite spot, but the overseer forbade it. He ventured out into the hallway and was horrified by what he saw. The hall was covered in another layer of gore and vomit. The old pasture where the horses used to roam outside was now nothing more than a pack of war dogs chewing on troll bones. Cages of captured prisoners were going back to the depths from the traps outside. He wandered out to his favorite fishing spot. The bridge was remarkably clean considering the carnage elsewhere. When he looked at the river beneath, he understood why. The engineers had finally caught a big group of siegers on the bridge and pulled the lever. Broken goblin bodies were strewn around the river bank, dangling from trees, and dripping blood from the roof of the fishing area. He grabbed a silver spear and stumbled back inside.
The voices around him seemed hollow and distant. They recounted the events. Thirty-nine trolls dead or captured, 41 goblins. The forces aligning themselves against Matchedbridge were getting stronger with each passing season. It wouldn't be long until the next army arrived. The thought made his stomach pit against his liver. As much as Monom loved fighting, he disdained the thought of death.
4
Over the year, the defenses were increased around the entrance of the fort. The deadly hallway was littered with more traps than before. A battery of ballistae were assembled at the end of the hallway with a shot all along it. Seigeworkers were busy training on some catapults in some obscure part of the fortress. War dogs were assigned to elite units and important civilians. There were rumors of dangerous creatures, forgotten by time, in the depths of the fortress. No dwarf set foot in those places. At least, none did and returned. Mining had all but stopped in the depths. The miners were assigned to a series of tasks to channel deep pits, and missteps took lives. Soon Melbil was the only remaining miner. His busy life as a noble kept him away from the danger that the others were often in. A series of troglodyte cages were opened and the contents were released into a sealed area of the fort which was intended to kill them. The sturdy little groundlings had survived, and were running amok in the area. Sealing it would hopefully starve the buggers so that the valuables in the area could be reclaimed later.
Notice came in late 266 that the duke had suffered an accident. He might never recover. The head medical dwarf was heard mentioning to others within earshot of Monom that Melbil had lost both of his legs and one of his arms. Melbil tried not to think about it. Though he thought of the Duke as a buffoon, he feared what might come from someone less able attempting to rule in his stead. Fights had broken out and gone. Monom was confined for some short periods. Cog mostly stuck to his depression. The two would see each other, poisoned by unhappiness, and be reassured as they went back and forth on errands.
The year 267 came, and not 7 days into it, the armies were spotted. Goblins and trolls advanced on the fort. At least as many as the previous attack. Few migrants were able to make it to fill in holes in the army. The military strength was down to some 15 dwarves. A notice came for Monom from the Overseer. Monom had been appointed to skirmisher ranks as a reservist. He ran up to fetch what gear he could. While he was strapping on the metal armor for the first time, he looked at his compatriots. The elite force was hard at work practicing. He could see legendary warriors preparing themselves to face death. Then he looked at the dwarves with his squad's insignia. They all looked glum and depressed. He had spotted a few of them in the prisons with him in the past. The Overseer was trying to dispose of the criminal elements in the society. This was a death march. Monom pushed the thoughts out of his mind and the order was given to assemble. The skirmishers and elites were stationed in the walled pasture where the mean looking War Dogs rolled in gristly bones like it was heaven. After they were all inside, the door was locked.
Monom could hear the armies approaching. He looked around nervously. Some of the others in his squad weren't used to fighting and would have made a break for it if the door wasn't shut tight. He mumbled something about who was protecting the hall. The elites just looked at him, puzzled. He still hadn't been able to speak well enough to be understood most of the time since one of the Gendarmes had stopped his peafowl pogrom. The stress of the situation made his speech even more garbled. A hand could suddenly be felt on his shoulder. When he turned around, the sunken, empty eyes of Cog greeted his.
"They are going to thin the bastards before we go in"
In all that time they had been confined together, the two criminals had learned to communicate better than anyone could have imagined. Monom knew that Cog's mind was almost gone these days. Cog would still ask for his long dead wife. But in this moment, Cog was sharp as a jabberers tooth. The fear gave way to excitement. He and Cog had been training as much as the elites had while in prison. Monom knew his fist could smash a few trolls to smithereens. He knew Cog would be able to give as much as he was dealt.
The front was suddenly quiet. A few cage traps could be heard springing in the distance. Monom knew that the enemy was amassing on the far riverbank, waiting for the moment to charge. Then a horrible bellow came from the distance and he knew the trolls and goblins would be on them soon. He made for the door. One of the elites held him back and for a moment he could not fathom why.
As if to answer his query, suddenly the sky was filled with humanoids. Little armored green goblins and lumbering trolls alike were jettisoned into the air above the river. The bridge trick! As he heard the sickening thud of their bodies hitting the ground, Monom shuddered. Then an old raspy croak came from behind him. Cog was doubled over with laughter. Soon the elites were laughing too. The skirmishers looked nervously at each other, as this joviality could not silence the pleas of the dead and dying besieging warriors. For a moment there was silence, then the second bellow came from the river bank. The bridge was back down and the charge was on again. Monom pricked his ears like some foul elf to hear the mechanisms which would signal more flying chaos, but there was none. The evil monsters could be heard rushing down the hall, past the door to the dog pasture. The walls of the pasture toward the river creaked and a few gnarled gray hands could be seen reaching for handholds. The dogs barked at the trolls trying to scale the wall. A horrible sound of screaming and death could be heard from the hallway. An elite unlocked the door, and they were out.
5
The orders were simple. The skirmishers would take the bridge, and the elites would hold the hallway. When the doors open, the militia poured out. The first troll had made it over the wall and was beset by the dogs just as they moved out. The hall was suddenly a gorier mess than Monom had remembered. The sound before the dwarves charged in must have been the ballistae firing. The entire charging goblin and troll squad had been eliminated. Gaping holes were ripped through the torsos of the dead. Those still moving were quickly set upon by the elites. At the sight of this horror, half of the skirmish troop ran for the hole. Cog moved forward, and Monom - against his better judgement - followed his lead.
There were still some enemies on the far bank of the river. They seemed to be somewhat confused about the hole which had suddenly appeared in one of the larger trolls and where the tree he was standing in front of had disappeared to. One of the reservists is first to reach the far side of the river. He hadn't bothered to get any gear, yet he charged at the gobilns without fear. The reserve latches on firmly as the others approach. The goblins are swinging their weapons at this dwarf but they keep missing. The struggling victim of the attack finally manages to shake him free and readies to attack. The reservist is quicker and bites off part of the goblin's jaw sending the part sailing off in an arc. The only goblin who didn't stop attacking to vomit at the sight of this severing strike manages to score a hit and open an artery on the dwarf. Cog is laughing again. Monom is nervous but readied.
Cog is next up, and squares himself adjacent to a goblin wielding a spear. With his shield raised, he blocks a few jabs before the goblin gets wise to this strategy and stabs him in the right foot. The goblin spearwoman appears to have some misgivings about this, and Cog looks positively jovial. The next attack stabs the left foot, piercing the fat.
Cog exclaims "How exhilarating!"
The next attack goes deeper into the left foot, and Cog collapses. The muscle was torn and the bone was bruised. Blood gushes forth from the open artery as the ligaments, tendons, and nerves seem to roll up the ankle. Cog loses the glee on his face. Taking an opportunity, the goblin goes for the left lower leg. This does appreciable damage. The eyes roll back into Cog's head as he gives into the pain. With her opponent prostrate before her, the goblin goes for the head. She strikes over and over. It is not known which of these strikes were the one to kill Cog Crushedstandards. Monom can't remember. He is frozen by fear and unable to help.
The elites finally advance on the scattered vile force of darkness. Monom charges with them. The remaining goblins are desperately trying to hold their ground. The war dog pen is quiet, the trolls finally overcome through their rampage. Most of the horde is scattered about dying. The majority of the elites go to deal with the weak ones, while one advances against the far bank. The goblins fire their crossbows but this is no ordinary dwarf. This is Urdim Roomsly the Crab of Wealths. Each shot is expertly deflected. They still hold out for the melee. Then a scream louder than the cries of war is heard. Monom Paintnotch is throwing a tantrum!
Not having time to put on as much armor, Monom is fast. He lets out his unintelligible scream and charges the goblins ahead of Urdim. Monom has no shield and he has no weapon. He doesn't care. There is nothing to live for and no one to arrest him for this brawl. The remaining goblins break rank and retreat. One is too terrified to move, so he is easy for Urdim to eliminate as Monom breaks off to pursue the fleeing. He tackles the closest one, and engages. The goblin can't break away. Monom has no hope against this armed opponent, but he rages on. This gives Urdim enough time to close the gap and make the kill. Urdim gives Monom a respectful nod. Monom foams at the mouth. He goes toward a female goblin and looks down at it. She had been cleaved in half by some other attack. He could never have revenge. All he has is wrath. As the military goes back inside for a well deserved rest, Monom stays on the battlefield. The tantrum leaves him with boiling blood on the bridge that was the site of so many deaths. He must satisfy his need for destruction.
Brick by brick, stone by stone, he slams his body against the bridge until it collapses beneath him. This building is the only access those monsters had to the fort, and he took it down. Still crying and mad, he lingers in the water. Bodies of the invaders are all around him. Invaders from previous wars, and even skeletons of unrecoverable brave dwarves surround him. The tantrum becomes him
On the 18th of Granite 267, in the river that cuts through The Glazes of Luck near the fortress Matchedbridge, Monom Paintednotches departed The World of Souls.
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Topic: [Short Story] The Bone Carver and the Fisherdwarf (Read 1024 times)