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[LuuBluum]

Chapter 1: Dim Lights

A wagon rolls through snow-covered hills, led by two horses: one gray, the other a dark tan. The shadows of dead trees guide its path as the sun rises from behind from the east. Behind the wagon, a lingering trail is cut through the snow; dead grass lingers in the coming sunlight, denied the right to rot away.

Inside the wagon, six dwarves sit. A seventh rides in front, holding the reigns. Crammed between the dwarves are barrels of booze and food, an anvil, and other assorted supplies.

"There's a break in the curse ahead."

The six dwarves inside the wagon sit solemnly; though they hear her words, they mean little. Everything lay in ruin; the total destruction of the world was nearly complete. The dwarf in front presses the wagon on until beyond the woods of dead trees. This is the first time any of these seven have seen life like this in a decade.

Should they fail, it too shall perish.


The wagon sits stationary; the horses graze off in the distance. The last glimmers of sunlight passed but an hour ago. A nearby campfire casts shimmering shadows of the seven dwarves onto the wagon and the horses.

The female dwarf who drove the wagon addresses the group, "If we don't fuck up, we might survive this yet." The wind replies, blowing about her braids; her mahogany hair seems black in the firelight.

"Do you really think we'll make it, Kadôl?" The dwarf to her left looks up; her cobalt eyes meet Kadôl's. "With what little we have, do you really think there's a way?"

Another dwarf chips in, "There's always a chance we can come back from this. After all, Thob, it wasn't always this bad." The dwarf decides to stand, though struggles to do so under his immense girth. "With enough time and distance, we can rebuild. That we're alive now means that there's a chance."

"Sure, Mûthkat," Thob replies with resignation.

The dwarves sit about the fire for a few more hours, the silence punctuated by brief conversation. The momentousness of their mission looming over them, the dwarves mostly say nothing and listen to the crackling fire. Their destination lay within a day from here; come tomorrow, their work begins in earnest.

What little hope remains, lay in Atêshstukos.

[delphonso]

PTW, love the tense tone.

[LuuBluum]

Kadôl never cared for goblins. The red glow of their eyes piercing through the darkness; some things unsettle no matter how brave you are.

Especially when seeing them here, in Nishoslan.

"Identify yourself, goblin!" shouted Kadôl. If not for her composure, she might have dropped the seeds she was carrying.

"Dostngosp Uksosomstu. Relax; I'm from Asob Laltur. I'm the outpost liason."


Goblins aren't unexpected in the ranks of Asob Laltur. In centuries past, many wars were fought with goblins. These wars culminated in the defeat of their leader, the skunk brute Bax, and the conquest of the dark fortress Bostebazstrog. The dark fortress subsequently changed hands many times in the following years, but the goblins and dwarves never waged war again. With the resulting destruction of the goblin civilization and conquest of some of their holdings, some goblins ended up citizens of Asob Laltur. Over time, they eventually assumed various administrative posts. However, their populations remained scarce within Asob Laltur.

Kadôl knew this, of course, but that didn't stop her from being a bit on-edge at the sight of a goblin here. "So be it. What news do you bring?"

The liason replied: "No new developments."

"Not a word? Not even from the other civilizations?"

"Nothing. We've sent messengers informing them of Nishoslan, but no reply. We can only assume that they are aware. Now then; this site is the sole producer of resources we have right now, so trade is imperative." From there, the conversation drifted to trade negotiations. While Asob Laltur has little to offer in terms of fresh production, the refugees did bring many resources with them.


Following the trade discussions, Dostngosp started to leave before turning towards Kadôl. "Be wary; they know of this place too. They have eyes and ears everywhere. Do not squander your time."

With those words, he departed.


Kadôl pondered this message. They've reached in this first year a point of self-sufficiency. Agriculture, carpentry, stonework: the basic industries are underway. Soon, steel production will begin in earnest, with the bountiful supply of iron and coal. When the time comes, they will be ready.

They must be ready.

[LuuBluum]

Thob Elsingiz was off to handle the winter harvest, when an unexpected sight caught her eyes: Mûthkat Astesherar and Uzol Tunomsodel digging some sort of curious structure into the entryway. Perplexed, she went up to them and asked what they were up to. Uzol replied, "makin' a tavern so that we have a place t' drink. Least I could do." Mûthkat added, "it should liven this place up a bit; make things feel a bit more how they should and not like the whole world's ending around us. Give a bit of light to the future, y'know?" With that, they returned to their digging, and Thob returned to the farm.

By the time the new year rolled around, the two miners emerged, satisfied. The word spread quickly to the other dwarves; curious and perhaps a bit excited, they decided to pitch in. Within a few days, a slew of tables and chairs had been carved out of marble and moved to the new space. Shortly after, some mica doors were moved in to give it a proper entrance. All that remained was a name.

Ducim Govoslolor, another farmer, suggested, "how about Dumatbugud?" With no one else able to come up with anything better, the name is set: Dumatbugud was open and ready to serve all who come for refuge and sanctuary. Goden Zuntîrseng, a recent migrant, volunteered to serve drinks. With everything in order, drinks started rolling out to patrons. Kadôl Kurelast decided to check in and make sure everything was going smoothly. The dance hall was occupied with jubilant singers and other signs of merriment. She had never seen this level of happiness; perhaps the world stood a chance?

A shriek rang out from the food store. Kadôl rushed inside to see what happened, only to see Goden lying in a pool of their own vomit, dead. Shem Rítakot sat next to him, in tears. "What happened, Shem?"

Shem, between sobs, shouted out: "He drank himself to death!"

It seemed Goden's motivations, then, were for a swift end. Ducim Nethëdem took over operations, and the miners quickly dug out a burial space for Goden. The merriment in the tavern resumed, but with a tinge of melancholy.

Though Dumatbugud may be a light in the darkness, it is but a dim one.

[PlumpHelmetMan]

PTW, I love your writing style. Reminds me more than a bit of Threetoe's short stories TBH.

[LuuBluum]

The wagons near Nishoslan from the west; the stream outside the entrance appears between the trees. Dostngosp hops down from the side of the wagon and starts walking towards the fortress, having spotted Kadôl hauling fresh lumber.

"I see that things are going well here. Sadly I've no news to report; this year has been wholly uneventful. I take it you've been industrious over the past year?"

Kadôl tried to hide her annoyance; what else would they be doing out here if not preparing? The farmers established a guild, a tavern had been built, a clothing industry set up; everything was falling into place. She replied: "Yes; we've established a good deal of industry now. Some of us even decided to establish a tavern."

Dostngosp's eyebrows went up.

"A tavern? It's been so long since anything like that has been around. I suppose we'll have to wrap up this trade agreement quickly; I must see this!"

With a quick exchange of words, Dostngosp wrapped up the trade discussion and slipped off into Dumatbugud. Kadôl returned to hauling wood inside, to supply the construction of sufficient barrels store the growing alcohol stockpile. If she tried hard enough, she could even forget the current state of the world: the destruction of most civilization, the roving armies of the dead. Things almost felt... how they should be.


Kadôl returned to the tavern some time later, to restock some of their alcohol supplies. A dwarf— Kadôl couldn't remember who— had the corpse of Oddom Alåthrosat slung over their shoulder. Behind them was another dwarf, carrying the corpse of Dostngosp. Kadôl was shocked. "What happened?" Ducim stepped out from the tavern, having overheard. "More cases of alcohol poisoning. Some people just can't handle hope."

This reminds her of a saying she once heard, back at the refugee camp. Those who forget this world belongs to the dead will soon join them. Hopefully the next liaison doesn't forget.



Kadôl watches wistfully as the trade wagons depart from Nishoslan. Though they had little to offer this year, the small bounty of fish they traded for should provide a bounty for everyone here. She wonders whether they'll last until the next caravan. No defenses, no military...

1052 would be the year Atêshstukos takes up arms.

[LuuBluum]

Chapter 2: Rank

The telltale noise of hammerblows against metal reverberate through the stale air.

"Uneven hammerwork. Poor weight distribution. Worthless."

Momuz tosses the copper shield to the side and starts wondering off to fetch more material. He returns, copper in hand, only to find a strange dwarf standing by his forge.

"Momuz Eturmerseth? I'm Sibrek Amkolendok, the liaison from Asob Laltur. I'm here to discuss your situation."


Two dwarves walk towards a hastily dug-out office, discussing matters of trade. Momuz sits down at their desk, as the conversation turns to more serious matters.

"This settlement here isn't completely isolated any more. I'm not sure how much you've noticed, but there's been a recent effort by one of the goblin civilizations to resettle the dark pits near here that were abandoned when the dark fortress fell. Since there's nothing else of note nearby, they've all become economically linked to Nishoslan. For that reason, we find your current state satisfactory to elevate you to the status of a barony."

Momuz raises an eyebrow. "So that makes us a dwarven baron of goblins, now?"

Sibrek ignores Momuz and presses on: "Do you have any recommendations for who to appoint to the position?"

Momuz suggests Led Ugutimish, a farmer who otherwise isn't doing much. This satisfies Sibrek, who then departs for the tavern.


Three wagons roll out of the entrance of Nishoslan, the merchants satisfied with their bounty of copper axes and shields. Sibrek follows shortly behind. Dwarves fetching firewood clear the way, as the wagons cut a trail through the snow.

Momuz discards another copper shield; the forges continue to burn hot.

[LuuBluum]

"Poorly balanced. Too much metal pooling to the side."

Momuz discards yet another shield, when another dwarf— some craftsdwarf— runs up in a panic. "Someone stole Gemsit Minkot!"

Momuz sighs, before wondering off. Being mayor is proving more troublesome than it's worth. Along the way back to his office, Momuz wanders into Zan Dorenfotthor. After a brief bit of time to recognize who they were, Momuz tells them, "you seem reasonable enough. You're captain of the guard now. Someone stole Gemsit Minkot, and it's up to you to figure out who."

Zan barely has a moment to compose himself before Momuz wanders away. Without even a chance to respond, Zan decides to instead to handle the problem at hand, and discover the thief who stole Gemsit Minkot.



"I'm so sorry! I was afraid! It was all Saló! Saló Elanaathama!"

Mûthkat Fikodorrun thrust herself at the feet of Zan, in tears. "She threatened me! I had no choice!"

Zan was caught off-guard; Mûthkat was the first person he chose to interrogate. After delivering the necessary beanting to Mûthkat for the theft, Zan rushes to the tavern to see if he can catch Saló before she leaves.

Zan busts into the tavern, and scans the room. No elf. He rushes to Ducim and asks, "was there an elf here earlier?" Ducim replies, "she left a few days ago."  Zan, annoyed, returns to his office. However, he recalls seeing Saló months before the theft; perhaps she would be so bold as to return some time later, thinking that no one was aware of her crime? He had little else to do; all the other criminal cases were the drunken assaults of now-dead goblins, so no crimes remained unsolved.

Sure enough, Saló returns some time that spring. Zan confronts and interrogates her; remarkably, she tells Zan everything. Saló journey over the past half-millenium had been attempt, over and over, to infiltrate a human civilization at the behest of some other unknown entity. When given the opportunity, she also decided to try and infiltrate Atêshstukos to instigate a coup. The theft was just icing on the cake.

Zan drags her to a jail cell, and lets her rot for a year. This won't be the last attempt to destroy Nishoslan; with so little left standing, there's little left for such schemes to target.

[LuuBluum]

Rovod Gåkïzlogem plants his chest on the corpse of Atir Stathrause and heaves on the hilt of his axe; it breaks away from Atir's skull, splashing blood on the wall. "This isn't what I was expecting when I was thinking 'war'," he mentioned off-handedly to Zan. "Was expecting more of an army of the undead, y'know?"

Zan sighs and stands up. "This is how the armies of the dead operate; size us up and tear us down from the inside. They probably weren't expecting us to start executing their agents like this, though." Zan props open the iron door to the jail cell. "Give it time. They'll invade eventually."

Both dwarves walk out of the cell, stepping over Atir's bloody, mutilated corpse. The other guards standing outside the cell head out of the prison and back to the barracks, along with Zan and Rovod.


"So, what's the plan? We can't just sit here forever, killing whatever comes our way." Rovod strikes at Zan with her steel battleaxe, but he swiftly parries her.

"Goal's to set up a military to start bringing the fight to them." Zan replies to the strike with a shield bash towards Rovod, who dodges out of the way. "The sooner we can take them out for good, the better. I've had enough interrogating undead abominations."

Rovod charges; Zan deftly steps out of the way. "So what's the hold-up?"

Zan strikes at Rovod from behind, but Rovod twists around and parries the blow just in time. "Lotta construction. Gotta tie up loose ends first."

The sparring match continues for some time.

[LuuBluum]

"There's a cyclops coming!"


Panic sweeps quickly through the dwarves hauling firewood inside. The entire fortress enters a commotion as everyone rushes for the dorms inside. Zan's unit of guards march to the entrance, while Zan heads off to try and manage remaining concerns of justice in the fort. The cyclops, unimpressed by the smattering of farm animals lingering outside the fortress entrance, makes its way inside. The dwarves charge at the cyclops, cornering it against a wall!

The cyclops strikes first at Tobul Kuletdakon, but fails to land the blow. Tobul replies by taking a chunk out of the cyclops's upper left leg. From there, a dance, as the cyclops evades blow after blow but fails to land any of its own. Rovod finally manages to get a swing in, and strikes the cyclops in the upper body; the blow lands squarely, fracturing a rib and severing an artery. The cyclops flails in a fruitless attempt to defend itself as Kadôl takes advantage of the opening to strike deep into the cyclops's upper left leg.

The cyclops twists itself about as it falls, flinging limbs about in an attempt to starve off the inevitable. While it manages to evade a flying dwarf, it fails to land any blows either. From there, the dwarves descend and turn the scene into a bloodbath. First, they go for the legs, dragging it towards the group. Rith Kerlîglikot strikes downward at the cyclops, chopping at their midsection and destroying their liver. A finger gets lopped off, and the cyclops gives in. The dwarves continue their onslaught without mercy; Kadôl finishes the deed by caving in their skull completely with their axe.

Dodók Bimlaz marches to the hospital, the only dwarf wounded in the onslaught. Not by any blow from the cyclops, but his failed dive; he smashed his shoulder on landing.

As Dodók recuperated, Zan learned of their betrayal.


Before the arrival of the cyclops, an errant goblin schemed to steal valuables from Nishoslan. As with the many agents before, she strove to corrupt a dwarf to perform the dirty work for her. Dodók, guarding the tavern at the time, was a readily available target and buckled under her threats. "So now they're corrupting our own? A pity."

To Zan, the law waits for no one. Not even a guard. Out of sympathy, Dodók isn't beaten to a bloody pulp, but merely given prison time.

[LuuBluum]

"A giant!"

Panic ensues yet again; the massive construction project taking place outside the fortress is put on hold. This time, the pasturing horses and llamas now stand in the way of the giant and the fort; the guards rush outside to meet it before it can kill anything.

Ast Osramral arrives first and charges... only for the giant to already be lying on the ground, unconscious, with a few dead horses and llamas surrounding it. He plunges his axe into the giant's skull, yet it continues to breathe. He strikes again, and again, and again, until the whole thing caves in.

Ast stumbles back, exhausted, surrounded by death. He glances down, and notices that among other things, the giant held with it an artifact steel mace. This mace was known as Ukosh Tathur, a legendary mace wielded by this giant for many centuries.

Ast gestures for a dwarf to bring the mace, and the other artifacts wielded by the giant, inside. As this project unfolds, such a tool shall prove vital in the fleshing out of the military of Atêshstukos. Ast certainly thinks so, before he vomits all over the floor. Defending the fortress in the sunlight is best left to dwarves not accustomed to the darkness.

Meanwhile, dwarves come out to store away the remaining artifacts held by the giant, as to offer them to the caravan in autumn.

[LuuBluum]

Led sits on her steel throne, content. Much has happened in the past 6 years, and most of it to her benefit. After ascending to the rank of Baroness over Nishoslan, the King has seen it fit to raise her rank up to Duchess. After all, Nishoslan commands over the economies of the nearby dark pits, and has proven itself resistant to the meddling of the forces of evil.

Mûthkat Astesherar enters her throne room, visibly disgruntled. "I'm digging us a library. I don't care about the risks."

"With that attitude, the only risk you should be concerned about is me," Led replies. "We get enough agents arriving as it is. We don't need another source of them."

"I don't care. I'm not about to go mad here; I need a place to think."

Led pondered this for a bit. After all, she longed for this as well; was it worth the risk? The tavern has produced enough corpses as it is, though now mostly confined to the jail cells. "Fine. Make it look nice, at least."

Mûthkat exits the room swiftly, though keeping the glum expression on his face. Led, frustrated, said aloud, "I swear if it isn't the forces against us, it'll be people just losing their minds."