Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Railick Stonemane]

They had never been to this gate before, as it gave access to the Endless Plains of Glitter region beyond the southern end of the Goldenanvil mountain range. As every dwarf knew the Endless Plains were just that, endless and empty. There is little for a dwarf in plain lands, and even the humans had yet to settle in this area.

The gate room was massive; the stone here smoothed out and engraved with the history of the dwarves who built it. Two great doors stood open at the southern end of the room, giving a breath taking view of the plains and the foot hills leading down to them. Everything contained in the room was of the highest quality, even the wooden doors were engraved with imagines of glorious victories over adversity.

This gate was still high up on the mountain, and it would take a long time to reach the plains proper. As it had been explained to Jiram, Mount Frostbeard was far beyond the plans, and it was unknown how long it would take them to complete the journey. The mountain was so vastly large that it was visible even from this distance, the lone peak tearing into the sky like a dagger piercing the heavens.

   Those assembled at the gate were all in a nervous fit, for none of them had traveled above ground before. Certainly many of them had been outside for one reason or another, but even Dod only ventured outside for a few days at a time to do his work. Always they had returned to their mountainhome sooner or later. This time they were being asked to leave the mountain and never return. If ever they would live in a mountain again it would be under Frostbeard, not Goldenanvil.

   For this reason they were not impatient with the brothers Stonemane. Indeed they appreciated the fact that they were late, anything to stay their trip if only for a moment longer. They all feared the unexpected and none of them knew what would happen once they reached their mountain. It is fortunate then that dwarves are naturally brave, for not a single one of them considered defying the Baron. It never even entered their mind to refuse his demand or attempt to weasel out of going. Indeed the dwarves had already mentally prepared themselves for the trip, and failure was not an option for any of them.

   Even though they were prepared both mentally and physically, there was a sigh of disappointment when the brothers finally came running into the gate room. The brothers mistook this collective sigh to be directed at them having been late, and they both began to apologize in their own way. They could see that there were only two wagons packed for this trip, each hitched to a pair of donkeys that would pull them the entire way. Both wagons were covered, and both were full of all sorts of various tools and supplies that they would need to start their outpost.

   After the brothers apologized for a few moments Jiram filled them in on what was to follow. They were each given a suit of leather armor, a steel pick, and enough food and water for one day’s journey. They were to make the water last as long as possible, and only eat the food when the entire group stopped for a break. They were told that each day that ended they would be rewarded if they had taken good care of their supplies. A bottle of rum was to be given for each dwarf who ended the day with water remaining in their water skin.

   With their equipment handed out and with everyone filled in on the journey there was no longer an excuse to stay. The dwarves waved goodbye to those that had come to see them off, with promises to send message back as soon as possible. With that the dwarves climbed up onto the wagons, with Jiram, Enza, Tindel, and Seed on the lead wagon. This left Railick, Bailick, and Dod for the second, with plenty of room to spare.

   The wagons themselves were very large with a padded bench up front for riders. The dwarves found the smell of the pack animals to be disgusting, even those that had grown used to the stench of the mines. With this the group rolled out, using an ancient road that was laid down ages ago. This road led the group down out of the mountains, giving them access to the endless plains that lay before them.

   It never occurred to the brothers that they had been given picks well
before they were needed. They never realized that the trip itself might be dangerous in and of itself. Jiram realized this however, and wanted all of his dwarves prepared to defend themselves at all times. Enza had a small sword on her back, which would have been considered a dagger by a human. Tindel had braught his carpenters hammer with him, the head made of a huge block of marble and the haft made from steel cedar trees. Dod of course had his horrific battle axe, and Seed choose to bring an adamantine hoe normally used for farming. Jiram himself only carried his leather bound book, still clutching it to his chest like his only child.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don't worry, as long as I have access to my computer and the internet I will not fail my fey mood. Now if they block access to this website or something of that nature things might change   <edited>

[ January 11, 2008: Message edited by: Railick Stonemane ]

[Fenrir]

quote:Originally posted by Railick Stonemane:
<STRONG>...and the haft made from steel cedar trees.</STRONG>

Say what?!

[Railick Stonemane]

Steel Cedar Trees are just something I made up for the story. They are more or less cedar trees with wood that is as hard as steel and can only be crafted with extremly sharp tools (maybe a diamond blade ect) Just to set up the fact that he is affluent in his realm and has the best of the best as far as he is concerned.

[Railick Stonemane]

Morning gave way to day, and the sun climbed high into the sky as the group began to traverse the plains. As far as they could see to the east and the west there was nothing but endless plains. Behind them to the north the great mountain range they were from was quickly beginning to shrink, and down to the south the mountain that they traveled too seemed to remain the same size.

   The seven dwarves were well aware that they would be rewarded with rum if they took good care of their supplies, and so most of them drank very little water that first day. When the sun was directly above them in the sky their nervous leader stopped the wagons and gave them all time to eat. Most of the dwarves gathered around the wagons and remained standing as they ate; their rumps sore even though the benches were padded. Dod, on the other hand, laid out on the ground to eat his meager meal. He’d grown slightly used to the outside and was much more comfortable stretched out in the grass.

   The meal stretched on, each dwarf eating in his or her own fashion. Each was lost in thought, ignoring the rest save for the brothers. At this point none of them knew the others very well, and they didn’t seem willing to make new friends at this point. So it was that they were all extremely surprised when a voice called out from the plains.

   “Stand and be counted Dwarves of the Mountains!” The voice was gentle but commanding, and as the dwarves looked up those noticed several figures standing in a circle around their small camp. Each figure was wearing a cloak that was camouflaged to blend in with the endless plains. Had they not announced themselves the dwarves would never have noticed them, unaccustomed as they were to their surroundings. It was then that Railick noticed the weapons.

   Each of the tall figures had knocked an arrow in a wooden bow and had taken aim at the group. There were seven figures, one for each dwarf, so they were well covered. It was impossible to tell which one had spoken, so the bookkeeper responded to them all.

   “We are dwarves of Understars the Abbey of Faithfulness and we trek across the plains to establish a new outpost. We mean you no harm strangers!” Though Jiram was nervous he showed it not, though he did clutch his book tightly to his chest as he awaited a response. While they waited the rest of the dwarves stood still, not wanting to draw a hail of arrows onto themselves and their comrades.

   “You are far from the mountains dwarves of Understars! I find your claim to be unlikely. I may be inclined to believe you were it not for the fact that you travel with the Forestblight.” The voice was coming from the figure who had taken aim at Dod, and only now did it become clear what they were up against. Some how they had been ambushed by a party of elves, though none of them had expected to see elves in the plains.

   “Surprised dwarves? Think we only inhabit the forests and pretty places of the world? It is our duty to protect all of nature not just the pleasant parts!” The elven leader slowly approached the group, his bow never falling and his muscles quivering from the effort of keeping the string drawn. “What brings you here Forestblight, run out of deer to kill and trees to chop down on the other side of the mountain? Maybe you had a run in with a prairie dog who called your mother bearded troll spawn?”

   Dod quivered, but did not move from his prone position on the ground. He’d never expected to meet an elf out here, but it did make sense to him now that he considered it. A cold raged boiled inside of him, brought forth by the crude insult slung at his mother. His hand ached to grip the haft of his axe, but somehow he managed to control himself for a minute longer.

   “Which one of you dwarfs is the diplomat of the party; we would
discuss your terms of surrender. Your kind is unwelcome here, but you did not know that. We will not punish you for your ignorance, and if you surrender peacefully we will return you to your halls unharmed.” This from a different elf, one with a bow pointed directly at Jiram’s heart. This elf had a deeper voice and seemed more commanding than the other, and was obviously in charge. Jiram looked down at the ground for a moment, the moment it took him to decide his course of action.

   “Alas my fair friends, we have no diplomat in the party. We do, however have standing orders to defend ourselves against anything that stands in our way. We will continue on with or without your consent elf. . . “The tension suddenly increased with the dwarf’s words. It was clear now that they would sooner die then surrender.

   None of the dwarves were prepared for this ambush, and as such none of them were properly armed. This having been the fact it did not stop Railick, who was taking his meal next to one of the wagons, from picking up his pick axe. The elf that was trained on him made a threatening gesture at the move and called out to him.

   “Dwarf remain still, there is no mine to dig here! Move again and I will be forced to lay you low!” The warning was in earnest, for the elves had no fondness of killing. It had been their plan to threaten the dwarves, for violence was all they truly understood. They were not prepared for the dwarves to resist however, given the favorable terms of surrender they had offered them.

   “Though I be not a diplomat, I am prepared to discus the terms of your surrender. If you lay down your bows now and return from whence you came we will not harm you. If ever you return to bother us again after this day you will be met with open hostility on sight. This is your one and only chance to give yourselves up.” It appeared the bookkeeper had a spine after all. The Baron had not chosen poorly when he decided to make Jiram the leader of this group, and now his decision was paying off for the first time.

   The elves could only laugh at the dwarf’s comment, since they so obviously had the dwarves with their pants down. The lead elf took a step closer and looked Jiram in the eye before he spoke. “You can’t be serious dwarf, you have no hope to resist us. Give up now or we will be force to slay you.” There was a sound of concern in his voice now for he truly did not want to harm the dwarves. Still, it was clear that neither side would stand down now, thus violence would ensue.

   It all started with a flash of movement, an elf who couldn’t keep himself in check any longer. With a twang of a bow string a wooden arrow was loosed, the razor sharp tip tearing through the air with incredible speed. There was no time to react, how could there be. The arrow found its target in an instant, striking Bailick directly in the chest. The arrow felled him where he stood, and the dwarf dropped to the ground with a grunt. His ration’s and water skin spilled across the ground as they fell from his limp hands.

   Once it had begun it could not be taken back, after that first twang followed six more, and arrows flew into the group from all directions. The elves aim was amazing, and not one of them missed their target. Railick was struck in the shoulder with an elegant wooden arrow, but responded with violence of his own. With power lent to him by pure rage the dwarf lobbed his pick axe right back at his attacker.

   The sharp tip of the axe struck the poor elf right between the eyes, knocking his hood back off his head with a sharp jerk. The sickening sound of bone and brain being destroyed filled the air almost the instant after the sharp thud of arrows striking flesh had done the same. The power of the blow knocked the svelte elf back into the air, his feet knocked out from under him instantly. No one had time to morn his loss however as else where violence began to erupt.

   Jiram took an arrow to the heart, or so it would have been if the thick leather book had it not been clutched to his chest. Still the force from the blow knocked him off his feet, and soon he was staring up at the sun from his back.  His attacker had already knocked a second arrow and was about to correct his mistake when a hefty axe blade turned the majority of his spine into splinters. As he fell to the ground with a silent cry of distress Jiram could see a short figure standing behind him with a grim smile on his lips.

   Ranger Dod was standing there, an already broken off arrow sticking out of his right thigh. If it hurt, the murderous dwarf did not show it, and it certainly didn’t reduce his lethality at all. Taking a cue from Railick the ranger lobbed his axe at an elf that was attempting to reload for another shot at Enza, who’d taken an arrow to the chest and was lying on the ground trying to draw breath.

   At once the sound of an axe blade rending flesh filled the small area, followed directly by the disgusting concussion of marble smashing through a chest cavity. Jiram’s looked frantically in the direction of the concussion to see Tindel standing over the exploded corpse of another elf. He took had taken an arrow to the chest, but he seemed alright other wise.

   In the matter of a few seconds four elves were dead along with two dwarves who had been laid low. In the moments that followed Tindel was forced to join in with the throwing, tossing his heavy hammer end over end at one of the elves who couldn’t bring himself to shoot again. His hesitation was rewarded with a painless death as the marble head of the hammer turned his skull into a cloud of misty gore.

   It was unclear what happened next, as Jiram was still stunned by being knocked down. But as time passed he was helped to his feet to see what remained of his party. The elf that had shot down Bailick had escaped, fleeing when he saw their arrows had not been as effective as they had planned. Only now did the bookkeeper notice Seed standing over the corpse of the last elf, who had some how been chopped in half with the blade of his hoe.

   “Quickly my friends, get Enza and Bailick onto the wagons, we must turn back!” This was Jiram’s only order, but it wasn’t necessary. Railick had already picked up his brother’s limp body and thrown it across the bench of one wagon. He was about to leave the rest behind when he was forced to give into his wood and fell atop his brother. It wasn’t long before Jiram was the only dwarf left standing, the rest of his group could not help but give into the pain.

   Madness over took the clerk then, all the death around him had changed him in an instant. His heart beat in his chest like a bomb about to explode and it was all he could do to reach the wagon before he too collapsed onto the ground. It was a grim sight, six elves dead and seven dwarves scattered about on the ground and wagons. The plains ran red with the blood of the fallen, the result of the animosity held mutually between dwarf and elf alike.

<This is probably all I'm going to be able to do tonight. I leave work in less than an hour and I doubt I'll have the will to write any more. Then again you never know Will continue tomorrow if you guys want to see more and I don't get blocked off the sight hehe.> <edited>

[ January 11, 2008: Message edited by: Railick Stonemane ]

[Armok]

Brilliant!
If you continue this way you might soon earn yourself a Beyond Quality even!

...

Actually:
Beyond quality!

...

hmm... you might even have sim ability... nah, probably not, but maybe...

[Railick Stonemane]

what is Sim ability ?

[Skanky]

The only suggestion I have would be to run the story through a spell-checker before posting. That is a minor thing, however. The story itself is superb.

[Railick Stonemane]

Armok smelt blood, this much he was certain of. Where there was blood, there was Armok, and so Armok was there. He stood in the center of the carnage in the form of a flaming demon the likes of which has never been seen by mortal eyes. Dark laughter filled the air as the God of Blood took in the scene with his burning eyes. This pleased him much, much more than anything he’d seen for ages past.

The presence of a demon did not go unnoticed by the pack animals, who immediately lost their senses. The Blood God took no notice of the asses as they bucked and kicked at their bindings. Soon all the pack animals had broken free with their rage fueled strength, running into the night to seek safety.
The sound of the braying animals the bookkeeper was startled awake from where he lay under one of the wagons. His eyes fell on the demon as well, and what little there was left of his mind fled to a place where no one could ever hurt it again. The shell that remained of the dwarf fell back to the ground in shock.

As Armok strolled through the camp he took special note of the pick axe lodged in the head of a dead elf. “How elegant,” he thought to himself. As he continued he found more signs of delicious death, exploded brains and spines that had been turned to shrapnel. Again, he was much pleased with these seven dwarves.

   His eyes befell the fallen brothers, clinging to each other and to life. Their souls were on the verge of departure from this realm, but Armok was not pleased with this. So he laid his hands upon them, both at once. He whispered to them, like a mother to her babe. He whispered dark things to them, compelling their spirits to remain though the body was unable to support them.

   Railick and Bailick shared a twisted dream then, a dream of blood and pain and war. A dream where they stood upon a pile of corpses and blood rained from the sky just for them. It was a dream where they were the rulers, not the ruled. A dream where Armok was glorified and Armok alone. It was clear from the dream that the Blood God was unhappy with the dwarfs of Understars. Their temples worshiped many gods, and he was simply one of many. His demands to dig deeper were not heeded by the dwarves of Understars, instead they listened to other gods that told them to stop!

   Armok’s palms burned through the brother’s armor, scarring their chests with horrible marks of the Blood God. As their flesh melted under the touch their blood flowed anew, their lungs breathed anew, and their eyes opened anew!

   Tarilic Moonbow ran through the plains as fast as he could, he’d never seen dwarves like these before. He’d heard tales about Forestblight but could never believe they were true! Now he knew better and as he raced across the planes back towards his encampment. He knew now that he would return home to the forest homes across the mountain. He wished he’d never shot that dwarf to begin with!

   He imagined he had run far enough, after all if the dwarves were to chase him they’d have to use their stubby little legs. They’d be far behind him now, and he had a chance to rest a bit as he continued to walk. His patrol had happened upon the dwarves by chance, and their plan to turn them back had failed utterly.

   As the elf tried to catch his breath the sound of horrendous laughter tore through the sky. The sound of it struck the elf cold, his limbs freezing as he fell to the ground. He knew, though he knew not how he knew, that the Blood God had come. Forcing himself to stand again the elf ran anew, his legs burning with pain. This time he would not stop until he was back in the forest miles and miles away.

   AIR! BREATH! LIFE! Railick shot up first and then Bailick followed. The two gasped for air like never before. Both of them where breathing heavily as their eyes shot around trying to get their bearings. It was dark, very dark, and there was no moon tonight. “Brother!” Railick called out, his hands extending into the darkness to try and figure out where he was.

   “I’m right ‘ere brudder!” Bailick replied, knocking Railick on the head to get his attention. The dwarves embraced like they’d never embraced before, hugging each other so tightly that they almost undid the work that Armok had done. The arrows were gone, and their wounds were healed. Their blood pumped through their veins like fire, an effect that would never go away as long as they lived. It was then that the brothers noticed that the others eyes were glowing in the darkness.

   For some reason this did not seem strange to them and they just accepted it as it was. Once they’d finished embracing each other they took stock of what was going on. In the darkness they suddenly heard a sound, a strange mumbling they’d heard before. Railick, being the smarter of the two, pulled a bottle of rum from his hiding place under the bench. Ripping the cloth from his new tunic the dwarf quickly made a liquor lamp. Using the flint from his supply pouch the dwarf supplied a very faint light to the area.

   The sound was coming from beneath the wagon, it was clear now. Railick quickly reached into the wagon again to withdraw Bailick’s pick, which had lain there the entire time. Now that he was properly armed the dwarf dropped down from the wagon and quickly held up the burning bottle of rum.    

   There, under the wagon, huddled the clerk. He had his knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes were far away, reliving the horrors of the afternoon again and again in his mind. The sounds were mumbles coming from his lips, insane words that made no sense and were in another language.

   When Jiram saw the light of the fire he shot out from under the wagon like a scared rat, running into the night screaming at the top of his lungs. He would never return, and the two brothers honestly did not care if he did. Turning back to the carnage they were compelled to search for other survivors. They first came upon the cold corpse of Enza, the poor dwarfess was struck down at once with an arrow to the lungs and never had a chance to recover. On they went, and it is then they found Seed and Tindel. The two had recovered enough to pull the arrows from their wounds and were sleeping back to back in the dirt.

   So exhausted by their wounds they had not been disturbed by the clerk running off, and the light was not bright enough to wake them either. The brothers looked to one another and sighed in relief, at least someone had survived. Beyond them they noted a pair of eyes shining in the darkness. The light from the burning rum bottle was enough to reflect off his eyes but not reveal who it was.

   “I thought you two were dead, nice to see you up and walking about . . . “ The voice was Dod’s, another tough dwarf who would not be put down by lack of blood or grievous pains. His voice startled the two sleeping dwarves, both of whom swung out with their still bloody weapons at the darkness. So it was, the five remaining dwarves were reunited in the darkness
of night by Armok’s will.

   It didn’t take long for the party to pile the dead bodies of the elves up in between the two wagons. Using the Molotov cocktail that Railick had created they set their enemies ablaze for warmth. They’d not expected the nights to be so cold, and their “fearless” leader had never warned them of such. Through-out the night they could hear the insane screams of their clerk as he got further and further away, but no one cared much.

   Using his adamantine hoe Seed took it upon himself to bury the body of Enza, and he used one of the stone blocks they’d brought with them to fashion her a fitting head stone that would never fade over time. After a brief funeral the five remaining dwarves settled in for the night and waited for the next day to dawn. None of the five would ever been the same again, but they had survived their first trial if only by a kobold’s hair.

************************************
I am running the story through a spell checker and a grammar checker with microsoft word. It does miss things however (like similiar words that sound the same but mean diffrent things) and I miss them too     sorry for any mistakes or anything like that. If any of you want to collect the story and edit it as I post it feel free This /is/ my last post of the night so enjoy. I'm going home and getting some sleep hehe

<edited>
[ January 11, 2008: Message edited by: Railick Stonemane ]

[ January 11, 2008: Message edited by: Railick Stonemane ]

[ January 13, 2008: Message edited by: Railick Stonemane ]

[Railick Stonemane]

The fire burned low and the scent of burning corpses still lingered in the air as the sun began to rise over the plains. Beams of warm sunlight began to creep across the frosted grass, rolling over the hills quickly as a new day began. Near a pile of burned elven bodies was another pile of flesh. Five wounded and exhausted dwarfs had huddled together for warmth, and had finally fallen into a fitful sleep filled with macabre dreams.  

   It was Railick who woke first, as the first rays of the sun’s warmth began to climb leisurely across his face. At first the dwarf was alarmed, the burning pupils of his eyes having effected his vision. Everything was tinted in a red hue, as if he had a film of blood over his eyes that would never wash off. Fearing the worst the dwarf shook his brother’s snoring form.

   Bailick awoke with a furry of flying fists, punching his brother in the chin twice before he realized what he was doing. A sly grin spread across the dwarf’s face as he looked down at frosty grass. “Sorry brudder, I thought ye were a elfie!”  It was then the twin’s face grew dark, his eyes darting here and there as if he was losing his sight.

   “You see it too then brother?” Railick’s voice was low now, trying to keep this bit of information from the rest just incase they were pretending to sleep. This is something that never would have crossed the dwarf’s mind the day before, to be distrustful of others. Now things had change, he’d seen what the world above ground was really like and he wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d seen the look on Dod’s face as he sat there staring at them in the dark, the smile on his lips as he murdered the elves the day before.

   “Ayah, its all red like dat time I splashed wine in me eyes! You member our fortieth birthday when I was dancing with them girls wat come from de furnace level?!” Bailick almost broke out into laughter at the memory but Railick covered his mouth with a bloody hand. Instantly Bailick calmed down as he realized how serious his brother was being, this was a serious matter after all.

   The two left it at that and decided to wake the others, it was time to decide what the next course of action would be. It was difficult to find a place that hadn’t been covered in sprays of blood and gore, but the group had luck on the other side of the wagons. There they settled into the dirt to have a quick breakfast as they discussed their options.

   “No doubt the bloody elf we missed cut our mules free while we slept, if we continue here who will be pulling the wagons.” Seed’s argument was valid, but the others didn’t seem convinced to turn back. The brothers seemed determined to continue on, to follow the mandate of their liege.

   “I’ll pull the bloody thing, and me brother will pull the other! Like my dear dead mudder used to say, where there’s a dwarf there’s way!” He was serious, and the glowing eyes that everyone seemed not to notice flared when he made his point. Through the night each dwarves, save for the brothers, had fancied that he would become the leader of the party now that Jiram was gone. Now was the time to act on those ambitions, and they all knew it.

   “I say we do continue on, if they are willing to pull the wagons then I am willing to take over as expedition leader! The duty falls on me, as the dwarf with the most management experience, to salvage this botched operation!” Seed’s tone of voice was very matter of fact, as if there were no room for discussion in the matter. The others two dwarves began to voice their concerns.

   “This ain’t no farming expedition ye git, this is real dangerous work we’re doing! I’m the one with the most battle experience and I know how ta deals with elves!” Dod’s eyes gleamed as he imagined taking his axe to more of the fair skinned fae. Now it was Tindel’s turn to object, his voice raising above all others as the brother just sat and watched in silence.

   “It’s your fault we’re even in this mess! Your reputation has drawn this attention upon us, and if you take over as leader the elves will never rest until we’re slain. I am of the opinion that I should take over because I have the most experience with building design and architecture. I’m the only one here who even knows how to build an outpost!” Around it went like this for an hour and more, until finally the calm debate began to break down.

   “Now listen when I speak and keep your helmet hole shut until I’m finished Dod! If ye be taking o’re we’ll be dead in a week and it’ll probably be yer axe that does it!” Seed, strangely enough, was the first to lose his temper. Dod’s eyes went wide at the insult and he was quick to respond in kind.

   “Ye old dust ball! Who do you think yo. .. “The dwarf was cut off something shot through the camp like a lightning bolt. It was as brown streak that was much to fast for any of them to see.

   “I BE HIT!” It was Bailick, jumping to his feet and holding his wrist
as blood began to flow from a serious series of scratches across his skin.  The dwarf ran around like a chicken with his head cut off, his eyes searching all around for a hidden elf or something more sinister. As he put on his show the brown streak shot through camp again.

   “ARGH! HE GOT ME!” Railick fell over onto his back as the leather
armor on his shoulder was torn away. He too gushed a small amount of blood on the ground from minor scratches in his flesh. Dod drew his axe as the rest of the dwarves jumped to their feet.

   This time they saw it coming, and it was Dod who was able to identify their assailant. He screamed at the top of his lungs, warning the rest as blood pumped through his veins. The adrenaline was flowing now and his battle rage was kicking in, hence he screamed. “IT’S A FUCKING BIRD! A GIANT FUCKING BIRD!”

   With this a dire battle was joined, with the giant eagle swooping down again and again. A wrist tore here, a shoulder scratched there, even as the three standing dwarves swung at the thing with their respective weapons. Finally the demon bird flew down low, giving Tindel time to prepare his next attack.   

   Just before the eagle reached him Tindel chopped down with his hammer, the haft whistling through the air faster than the eye could see. Then it was all over and feathers filled the sky. Under the striking head of the marble hammer were the remains of their malicious aggressor. It was Seed who noticed the wooden vessel attached to the dead eagle’s claw.

   Seed ran over to the corpse, untying the vessel from what was left of the bird’s leg. Quickly he popped the top from the wooden container and looked inside. His face was grim as he pulled a letter from inside. He was one of the only two dwarves among them that could even read, so Seed began to orate the correspondence aloud.

   “To Whom It May Concern, good tidings to you who remain of our apparently ill fated endeavor. I send this letter to you in hopes that it finds you well, or at least better than we found your clerk earlier this morning. Just before the sun began to rise in the east Jiram stumbled into our Eastern gates. All I could ascertain from his insane ramblings is that something bad has happened to your expedition, though I know not what. If I were to believe what he says, you’ve been attacked by a thousand elves, and demons came to take the souls from your corpses. While I find this hard to believe I harbor little hope that I will get a return message. However, if this note does find you well then please reply post haste. The eagle messenger I’ve used to send this letter is loyal and well trained. Simple return your letter into this vessel and he will carry it back to me directly. Your brother in life and death, Baron Shatteredstone” As Seed finished reading the note aloud all the dwarves looked down at the eagle who’d be smashed under Tindel’s hammer.

   “Ah . . . I guess it was trying to land on . . .” Dod muttered softly.

   “Yup . . .” Was the only thing Tindel could reply.

   “Shit!” Seed added to the detailed conversation.

   The two brothers were both rolling around on the ground screaming in pain, for they hadn’t heard the message read aloud. They still assumed they had been mortally wounded again and this time they weren’t going to go quietly into that dark night. It took the rest of the dwarves several moments to calm them down. They assured them that the eagle was just trying to land on their arm and shoulder to deliver a message. So it was that their second day started, and already it was nearly as bad as the last. “Who ‘ere heard of sending mail with a damn bird any way!?”

<Just> <Edited>

[ January 11, 2008: Message edited by: Railick Stonemane ]

[Railick Stonemane]

Railick sat beside Tindel on the bench of a wagon; both dwarves had taken to smoking pipes to relax after the stressful day. Soon after the “attack” by the messenger eagle the dwarves had made their decision. Seed and Dod would return to the Fortress to inform the Baron of what had happened. They would, of course, include the harrowing tale of how an elven scout shot down his prized eagle.

   As they traveled back, the other three would press on with both wagons. The brothers would happily do the hauling and with Tindel there to supervise the two they were to make relatively good time. Once they reached the mountain the brothers would begin the mining operations under Tindel’s expert direction.
As they were only a day’s travel from their old Fortress the dwarves all expected Seed and Dod to arrive at the mountain a day or two after the first group. They were to bring with them more dwarves to replace those they’d lost, as well as a guard or two to protect them for any subsequent elven attacks on their new outpost. It was hoped that the Baron would send a diplomatic envoy to the elven encampments that had attacked them and stave off any further attacks, but it was impossible to divine the future where elves and nobles involved.

So the group parted ways as the sun crawled higher into the sky, with the brothers pulling the wagons to the south. Seed and Dod made their way on foot as best they could, following their wagon tail back up the mountain. Tindel relaxed, still smoking his stone pipe, as the wagons rolled on.
Here the brothers began to sing a song they’d learned in a bar long ago. They sang to take their minds off the journey and keep their feet moving at a steady pace. Tindel didn’t mind the song so much, as long as he was never asked to do any hauling.

“Trudge on my brothers trudge on, its not much further till we get home! Go on my lads go on, and leave your boot prints in the loam. A mountain or four afor me door and then me wife is on the floor!
The lass that waits for me, has a beard untamed and free! Her breath could slay a dragon spawn and her toe nails are ten inches long . . . So Stomp on my dwarves stomp on, our journey is only two hundred years long! Run on my troops run on, or you’ll find another dwarf in your home! A century o’ three is good for me, it keeps me wife from hounding me! SOOO trudge on my brothers trudge on . . . “So the song went on for the rest of the day, and by the time the sun had set Tindel was quiet sick of it.

“Me lads, I appreciate you pulling the cart and all but could you stop singing for a while? Me thinks the elves will hear us coming from miles away!” Tindel smiled good heartedly, but in his mind he was slinging curses at them left and right. Still, the dwarf knew it would be unwise to insult his new pack mules before they were broken in properly.

   The gently and rhythmic rocking of the wagons along with the relaxing effect of the pipe combined to make Tindel rather sleepy. He thought to himself that he would lie down for a moment and take a break from the hard work he’d be doing. The nap turned out to last the entire night, and the sun was already creeping over the horizon when his eyes opened again.

   The two brothers had trudged on through the night, never slowing and never growing tired. Though they were not aloud to sing they had been playing a game all night of matching each others footsteps. So it was that when Tindel cleared his throat they were both very startled.

   “What the ‘ell is going on here? Did you start with out me or did you never stop to sleep?” The two brothers never slowed their stride as Railick turned his head to answer the mason.

   “Don’t need to sleep, we ain’t tired. In fact I’d be surprised if’n we
ere’ sleep again after the dreams we had night afor last!” The dwarf truly did not seem tired, and as he turned back to the road Tindel realized that something was wrong. No dwarf, not even miner dwarves, should be able to go this long under heavy physical labor without some rest. However, since this mystery resulted in the group making extremely good time Tindel did not look into it further.
<made>

[ January 11, 2008: Message edited by: Railick Stonemane ]

[Fenrir]

quote:Originally posted by Railick Stonemane:
<STRONG>I'm not such a good writer... </STRONG>

Liar.

[Armok]

Excellent!
You have a gift for sensing the pure essence of things, amplify it a hundredfold, and forge it into legends!  

Epic, truly epic!

[Lazy_Perfectionist]

I'll read this a bit later, but I wanted to offer the following piece of advice:

Since the forum discards indentation by default, I suggest including blank lines between paragraphs and quotations. I find the text too dense for comfortable reading. For example, I find the following much easier to read with this simple change:

quote:
The dwarven brothers had a game they liked to play when they mined together, something to keep their minds focused on the job at hand. This also served the purpose of keeping track of where the other was, and so Railick began. He pressed his grubby ear to the rough stone wall, and waited for the vibration for his brother’s digging. After moments of listening and timing the blows Railick was ready. As Bailick’s pick rang out against the stone Railick’s followed.

Bailick could feel the force of his brother’s powerful blow through the stone, and smiled his queer smile. “It’s about time,” he thought to himself, following his brother’s blow with his own. Like this the two continued to mine, tearing the stone the walls into pebbles. Behind each of them followed dwarves with support beams and various other stabilizing techniques that would keep the raw tunnel from falling in on their heads. The brothers Stonemane couldn’t care less, their job was to mine!

In this way the brothers worked through-out what they could only assume to be the day. This deep in the mountain there was no natural light and no real way to keep track of time. Only sweat and fatigue mattered now, and after hours the two where spent. It was time to rest and as they took a short break in one of the main passages their foreman happened by.

“What are ye two still doing ‘ere? You were supposed to be off work six hours ago!” It was so hard to tell whether this dwarf was seriously angry or just being fatherly again. The brothers looked at each other for a moment, then back to their foreman.

“Oi wait a second! Just a minute ago you were on me about making a crooked door, now yer saying I should have been off six hours ago? What are you on about?!” Railick shook a stubby finger at the foreman, his rough eyebrows raised a bit to indicate disbelief.

“THAT was twelve hours ago you magma blasted fool! We’re not paying you over time I hope ye be knowing that!” The foreman grabbed Railick by the shoulder and shoved him roughly towards the exit hall. “Now get the ‘ell out of here and get some rest! Yer gonna have to take tomorrow off to make up for all this extra work you’ve been putting in!”

[Railick Stonemane]

I think maybe you praise me so much because I included you in the story Armok Could that be it? If so be prepared because Armok is going to play a huge role in this story    :)I really don't deserve such accolades.

I went through the entire story so far and edited it all so that it is easier to read. I did kind of notice it was really blocky but didn't think anything of it. Now that you mention it, it is hard to read like that ( I never tried to read it after I posted it since I'd revised it for a few minutes already)

BTW, did anyone find the whole eagle attack to be funny? That is one of the few times where I was laughed every time I reread the line trying to make sure it was perfect.

[ January 11, 2008: Message edited by: Railick Stonemane ]

[ January 11, 2008: Message edited by: Railick Stonemane ]

[Railick Stonemane]

     Railick’s words were true, and for days the two brothers did not sleep to eat or stop. Tindel had taken to staying inside the wagon under the cover of the canvas. Being outside for so long reminded him to much of being in a massive cavern where you couldn’t see the ceiling. So he took his meals and smoked his pipe inside the wagon. When the need arouse the dwarf even squatted off the back to relieve himself without issue.
   
     It wasn’t long before Railick and Bailick began to sing again, though under their breath so as not to anger their traveling partner. The two did well to keep their mind off their travels, for after seven days the mountain Frostbeard looked exactly as far away as it had on the first day of travel. The food they’d brought with them was more than enough, and every so often Tindel would hand down a meal to Railick. Bailick was pulling his wagon side by side with his brother, so it wasn’t much of a stretch for the mason to toss him a roll of stale bread and a piece of salted donkey meat.

     On the eighth day of their travels the dwarves learned a very harsh lesson. Storms out on the open plains of Endless Glitter were fast and furious. With no trees around to block the winds they were able to whip up to incredible speeds. It was all the brothers could do to continue when the rain began to fall. For the first time in a week the brothers stopped pulling the wagons and simply looked up into the sky with their mouths open.

   “What the ‘ell is that?! What’s going on?!” Railick’s voice was full of alarm, for never before had he experienced the weather above ground. If it weren’t for Tindel slapping both dwarves on the back of the head they would have both drown where they stood with mouths full of rain water.

   “Ye thrice blasted sons of a goblin whore! It’s called rain, hello!?!?! Have you two ever left the mines?” The mason pulled two hooded traveling cloak from the second wagon and put them over the brother’s shoulder. After they had tied them tight and thrown their deep hoods over their faces they saw fit to continue. From Tindel’ perch inside the safety of the wagon the brothers looked like a pair of soaked midget elves, he could only chuckle to himself as he lighted his stone pipe anew.

   The storm continued to grow worse, the rain began to sweep in from the sides and sting the dwarf’s tender cheeks. Their beards were soaked and looked like rat pelts by the time the lightning began to strike all about them. The poor dwarves had no idea what was going on now, but they assumed that this was as normal as the rain. They wanted to avoid another stinging remark from Tindel so they continued on.

   Had they seen the other dwarf huddled in fear inside the wagon they would not have felt quiet so bad. The fear on his face reflected the knowledge the dwarf held of storms. He knew very well that lightning was deadly, and that it tended to strike the tallest thing in the area. It was only a matter of time before one of the wagons or a dwarf head would be struck. As he fearfully contemplated this eventuality a powerful gust of wind came upon them at the perfect angle.

   At once both wagons were lifted from the ground as the wind rushed up under the canvases. Acting like two giant sails the canvas covers dragged the wagons off the plains and back several feet before falling back to earth with a loud crash. The thunder continued to roil about them as the two miners tried to find Tindel inside his wagon. The mason was fine, but very shook up, with tools and food scattered all about his area.

   Again the winds came, and this time they were stronger than dwarven carpentry. The two canvas covers were ripped clean off the wagons, blown off into the storm. Everything that wasn’t heavy enough to resist the wind was blown along with it, only heavy stones and boxes of food remained. All of the documents, clothing, and all things flimsy where taken by the howling storm, never to be recovered.

   Together the three dwarves went to ground, crawling under one of the wagons to protect them from the storm. This was unlike anything that any of them had ever seen before, and it wasn’t close to over. The sky grew extremely dark, almost green in color as the rain began to lessen. Mistaking this as a lull in the storm Bailick crawled out to check his wagon if only for a moment.

   Suddenly the rain was replaced by hail; large stone sized balls of ice
that began to strike the wagons fiercely. It only took a few strikes to the skull to convince Bailick to dive under his own wagon, to wait for better weather once more. Then the sound came, a sound like a thousand roaring rivers merging onto a single spot.

   “Good gods! What is that?!” Now it was Tindel’s turn to stare with his mouth open, his hand pointing off into the distance. The words were stolen by the wind, but the look on his face was more than enough to get Railick’s attention. His eyes followed the line from Tindel’s pointer finger, and then grew wide with terror. There in the distance was a massive wall of turning dust, spinning so fast that the plains were being torn up into the sky.

   This twisting cloud was growing, ripping trees out by the roots and throwing them incredible distances. Never in the wildest dwarven stories were there accounts of something like this. The ignorant dwarves could only assume this to be some sort of demon or mega beast akin to a dragon. After a few moments the growing twister began to amble in their direction, and the dwarves new they had to act.

   Railick began to use an ancient form of dwarven sign language that was reserved for the deepest mines, where even speaking was enough to cause a cave in. Every dwarven child from royalty on down to the poorest peasant knew this sing language, it was a dwarven legacy. This form of communication was also widely used by the armies of the king for ambushes and raids on their enemies.

   -=Bad thing has seen us, it is coming. STRIKE THE EARTH!=- The motion for strike the earth was to pound one’s fist into the opposing palm, this was a universal symbol that elicited a universal response from all dwarves. In an instant the three dwarves scrambled out from under the wagons and gathered their tools.

   In this situation there was only one structure that would save them, and it was simply known as a dwarf hole. The three began to strike their tools into the wet soil, quickly creating a deep hole filled with mud. Before long they were all covered in dirt and mud and their hole was roughly six feet deep at the center. As the roaring beast closed in on them the three dwarves threw themselves into the hole and lay flat. As is the custom in these situation the last dwarf in tore the shallow walls down atop them. So the three brave dwarves were buried alive in a tomb of their own making.