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[Lovechild]

Prologue

The dwarf Tobul Constructattic was the first king of the Fortunate Arches. His rule was benign, some would say lax. King Tobul found running a kingdom to be quite boring. He preferred to spend his time on romantic misadventures, with a string of lovers and consorts. While the king fooled around, the kingdom stagnated. It was peaceful, but hardly flourishing.

Nil Shieldshoved was one of king Tobul’s daughters. Her older brother Logem was the one in line to the throne, so there was little expectation of her. But a life spent lazing around the royal court - like her father - was not what Nil wanted. She set out to make her own fortune, joining a merchant guild in the human lands. Nil discovered she had an eye for business, and quickly advanced to a position of authority within the guild.

But one day, prince Logem was killed by a rampaging cyclops. Two years later, king Tobul died of old age. Nil was called back to the mountainhomes, and crowned queen of the Fortunate Arches.

Nil set out to bring the kingdom to order and revitalize it - no small task, after decades of mismanagement by her father. Her merchant days had taught her that the Fortunate Arches possessed valuable resources. The human Kingdom of Truths to the south would pay well for them - they just had to be made available.



In the year 75, six years into the reign of queen Nil, a party of dwarves travelled south from the mountains. Their mission: To establish a trading outpost halfway between the dwarven and human lands, where the two kingdoms could exchange goods and wealth.

Chapter 1



Id Treatyprisons looked out over the vast plains. Green and flat - so different from the dwarven mountains.



The wagon had stopped at the foot of a gently rising hill. To the southwest, a stream ran lazily across the plain. Id’s six companions were unloading their tools, while the goats they had brought along brayed and chewed grass.

Id wasn’t certain why the queen had chosen her to lead this mission. Id was a merchant by trade, sure, but not an outstanding one. She had no great mercantile deeds to her name. And she definitely didn’t have any experience founding outposts or leading communities. Regardless, Id wouldn’t let this chance go to waste. She would set up a successful trading post, establish trade between the dwarven and human kingdoms, and prove herself.

“All right!” she addressed the dwarves. “Let’s cut down the trees around here, and dig out a hillock. There will be more people joining us from the mountainhomes soon, so let’s make this place comfortable by the time they arrive. Together, we’ll make Gildmeet a success!”

Some of the dwarves cheered. Some just turned around and got to work. Id was left wondering... hadn’t she been assertive enough? Or too assertive? Id knew that having the crew’s respect and approval was vital to success. She had to say the right things.



The miners started digging out a basic hillock in the soil.



Work was quick. Soon the dwarves had shelter from the elements, and an underground farm to sustain them.

Id had a little office dug out, where she could maintain the outpost’s records. Gildmeet’s major issue was the lack of starting capital. Aside from basic supplies, the queen had just provided a shipment of stone. As Gildmeet was to be a surface outpost, the stone was intended for production of any necessities that couldn’t be made from wood. Id wasn’t about to sell it.

Id wondered why the queen had made their task so challenging. Was it a test? Id would have to figure something out, before the arrival of the kingdom’s caravan in autumn.





One bleak morning, seven goblin corpses crested the hill above Gildmeet. Three of them were mindless zombies. The other four had intelligence and malice in their dead eyes.

“Dwarves, in these parts?” one of them said, a muscular goblin woman wielding a long spear.

“Seems they are digging in,” said one of her companions, a male goblin carrying a maul. “Are they trying to settle here?”

“The plains belong to the dead,” the spearwoman said. “The Lost Hunt goes on.”

“The Lost Hunt goes on,” her companions repeated. The undead let out a wordless, gurgling battlecry, and charged down the hill.

The unnatural cry struck fear into the seven dwarves. They fled into the hillock, their panicked animals following. The doors were barred, and the dwarves huddled together, grasping their picks and axes.

Id was breathing heavily. What was happening? Was she going to die?



The undead goblin spearwoman walked up to the doors, and gave them a heavy push. They held. She scowled.

“Hide underground, dwarves,” she said, “and leave the surface to the dead. The plains belong to us, by rights of old. I am Zolak Flygristle, and I will not let you take them.”

The dwarves shuddered. A moment passed.

“Rights of old?” Id whispered. “What did she mean?”

“Maybe...” the old miner Rockarm said. “Decades ago, the humans, elves, and goblins waged war against each other on these plains. The wars lasted many years, and hundreds were slain. There has to be a lot of old battlefields and mass graves around here... a land of the dead.”

The days turned into weeks, as the undead waited outside the gates. The dwarves held out fine, their farms provided everything they needed. But their goats and other animals fared worse. With no grass to eat, they began to starve, and had to be slaughtered.

Id found herself growing close to the woodworker Feaststandard. Stuck inside the hillock, they had little to do but talk.

“I’m so sorry for all of this,” Id said to him. “I just wanted to found an outpost, a place we could all be proud of. But instead I’ve led us into a deathtrap...”

“It’s not your fault,” Feaststandard said. “You couldn’t know this would happen.”

“But I’m the expedition leader. It’s my responsibility.”

“We’re all in this together. I’ll stand with you whatever happens, Id.”

Without really thinking about what she was doing, Id took Feaststandard’s  hand in hers. He clasped it back.

The two of them soon found things to do besides talk.



Before long, Id and Feaststandard decided to make their relationship official, getting married in a small ceremony. The event brought some much needed joy to the gloomy hillock.

Autumn came, and went. The undead still lurked outside the gates. There had been no sign of the promised migrants and caravan. Most likely they had spotted the undead from afar and turned around.

“Maybe the queen will send a relief force,” the farmer Reigndyes said. “Soldiers to rescue us.”

“I doubt it,” Rockarm said. “We’re far away from the kingdom. And a marching army might attract more undead.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?!” Reigndyes was starting to sound desperate.

Id looked up, and realized. The dwarves had been without purpose for too long. If this went on, they would all surely succumb even if the undead never got in. To give purpose - that was her responsibility as a leader.

“There is something we can do,” Id said. “We can dig deeper.”


* * *


To be continued. Let me know if you want to be dwarfed.

[Salmeuk]

Dwarf me as "Salmeuk" and a mason, if you have one. I enjoyed the part where the undead declared it's claim to the land - not often you imagine these shambling husks opening up and speaking, much less believing in such advanced concepts as heritage or property rights!

[Radipon]

The first thing that has soaping skill.

[King Zultan]

I'll take a random dwarf.

[brewer bob]

Dwarf me as 'Bob' if there's a brewer around. If not, some cannon fodder fishery worker will do fine.

[Lovechild]

Chapter 2

Salmeuk Roomobeys and her miner colleague Rockarm were digging downwards. They had gone deep in the soil, and were starting to see rock.

“Feels good to break stone again!” Salmeuk said, as her pick hit home.

“Aye,” Rockarm agreed. “Feels good to be doing anything beyond sitting in the meeting hall.”

The idle weeks had perhaps been more pleasant to Salmeuk than to the other miner. She had gotten romantically involved with the woodworker Postrouted, and his company had made the long days less dreary.

Still, she was glad to be mining again. A dwarf could not live off of love alone, she needed work as well.

Eventually the miners hit a light aquifer, but that could be pierced and blocked off with the stone they’d found above. Salmeuk put up a mason’s workshop and carved a few blocks. Everyone worked together to seal the aquifer away, and barely a drop of water made it through before the tunnel was safe.



Once they were below the aquifer, the miners began digging south. Rockarm believed there was a chance of some shallow metal there.



Exploratory mining begun. Before long, tetrahedrite and lignite had been found! The ore would yield copper and silver, while lignite meant fuel for smelting wouldn’t be a problem.

As the mining operations continued, winter became spring. The seven dwarves had been at Gildmeet for a year now - and had spent more than half of that time locked away underground.



Eventually the miners finished mining out the veins. The dwarves had a real bounty of ore and lignite on their hands. Now the question was: What were they going to do with it? Id gathered her companions, and laid out an idea.

“We’ll use the metal to make weapons. Silver war hammers, and copper armor. Then we train. We teach ourselves how to fight. And then, we go out and drive the undead away.”

As Id finished, there was a moment of silence. Id started to panic. This was a suicidal plan. Everyone was thinking she was insane.

Then, the gathered dwarves erupted in cheers. They clapped Id on the shoulder, banged their chests.

“We’ll show those undead bastards!” Reigndyes exclaimed.

There was one obstacle to the plan. The dwarves had brought an iron anvil on the journey, necessary for any type of smithing. That anvil was now lying on the ground outside the locked gates, where the undead walked.

The anvil wasn’t far away from the gate, though. And the undead didn’t always stay in front of the gate. Sometimes they would chase after wild animals that strayed too close. It could be possible to open the gate, send a dwarf out to grab the anvil, and then seal the gate again once they were back inside.

“I’ll do it,” Feaststandard said.

“You don’t have to - “ Id began.

“I’m the fastest one of us. I’ll be fine.”

One afternoon, looking through their peepholes in the soil, the dwarves saw the undead chasing some poor kangaroos through the forest, away from the gate. It was time.

The gate was unbarred, Feaststandard dashed outside. He grabbed the anvil, rushed back inside. The gates shut behind him. All good, and over in a matter of seconds.



The smelters and forge were set up, and the dwarves got to work. Everyone was energized, brimming with purpose.

But summer came, and with that, the undead were suddenly gone. They had waited outside Gildmeet for one year to the day, and then left as quickly as they had arrived.

The dwarves could finally step outside, blinking in the sunlight. They noticed quite a few wild animals had been killed by the undead. It seemed they considered any living creature on the plains to be violating their claim.

“Let’s bring the dead animals in and butcher them,” Id said. “If goblins can rise as undead, perhaps animals can too.”

As the dwarves got to work, it occurred to Id that they didn’t really have to do anything. They could just abandon this haunted place, go back to the mountainhomes, and live happily in safety. But something made her dislike the idea. That moment when they had all come together and agreed to fight the undead was still fresh in her mind, she still felt that purpose. Walking out now would be like letting the undead win.

Id resolved not to say anything about leaving unless someone else did.

No one ever did.



Id had grown heavy with child over the last few months, and in mid summer, she gave birth to a son. She and Feaststandard decided to name him Zultan Hotroughness. The summer was hot and life was rough, but his parents would do everything to let him grow up in happiness.



Now that they might have a chance of getting some visitors, the dwarves built a trade depot. Id set up a gate that could be sealed via a lever inside the hillock, in case of emergency.



The dwarves even built a bridge across the stream, to help caravans cross.

Time went on. Autumn came with a chill wind.



The voice of the undead goblin Zolak Flygristle sounded across the land.

“Hide away, dwarves, for the true masters of the plains have returned. The Lost Hunt goes on.”


* * *


I'll get Bob the brewer in next time. And Radipon when we get a soapmaker migrant. If we ever get any migrants...

[brewer bob]

I'm liking the cozy hillock/hobbit-hole design of the fort. Also, nice to see that the bridge is built like a worldgen bridge.

[fatcat__25]

PTW

[Lovechild]

Chapter 3

Once again the dwarves were locked underground. They spoke little, just kept working.



The woodworker Postrouted, Salmeuk’s lover, had been chosen as smith. He made silver hammers and copper armor, while the miners searched for more ore and lignite.



In winter, the equipment was ready, and training begun. Bob Dellstockades the brewer was chosen to be the commander of their squad.

“I just want to be rid of the undead and get back to brewing,” he said. “If I have to lead an army to make that happen, then so be it.”



The dwarves set up a small chapel where they could pray to Zefon, the impish god of fire and earth, between training sessions. They asked not for salvation, but for fiery resolve and earthen strength.

Time went by fast, now that the dwarves had a purpose and a routine. It was already the spring of 77, two years since their arrival.



In late spring, Id’s and Feaststandard’s second child was born. It was another boy, whom they named Girderfondled. Meanwhile Zultan had grown up, and was starting to walk on his own.

Summer passed uneventfully. Training and more training.

In autumn, the undead outside the gates left. Once again they had stayed for a full year.

“They’ll be back,” Bob said. The other dwarves agreed.

Their training was starting to pay off. Several of them were now quite skilled with their silver hammers. But, all they had was drills and sparring. The undead had combat experience, from the wars they had fought in life... and from who knows what they had done since then.

Then, one sunny autumn day, something most unexpected happened.



People were approaching Gildmeet. Living people.

The caravan from the mountainhomes had arrived, at long last. Accompanying it was Kogan Paddlereleased, the outpost liaison, who went to meet with Id.

“It is so good to see you at last, Kogan!” Id said.

Kogan was an ancient dwarf. She had served as outpost liaison since the founding of the Fortunate Arches, under both king Tobul and queen Nil.

“I understand there has been trouble here,” the elderly dwarf said.

“Indeed,” Id replied. “Undead warriors have been besieging us! But I still believe in the success of our mission. If we could just have reinforcements, soldiers...“

“That will not be possible.”

“...huh?”

“There has been trouble in the mountainhomes as well. The Mighty Malice has declared war on us.”

The Mighty Malice was the goblin nation to the southwest of the dwarven mountains. A cursed land surrounding a fell tower of black stone.

“Twice the goblin hordes have come already,” Kogan said, thumbing a scar on her chin. “I slew five of them myself.”

Id didn’t know what to say.

“So you understand,” Kogan continued, “we cannot spare any soldiers for you.”

“I see,” Id said.

“No one will fault you if you abandon your mission and come back to the mountainhomes. Of course, those aren’t safe either these days, but - “

“No. We have made up our minds. We’re staying here.”

“Very well.”

Id thought she could she the hint of a smile in Kogan’s stern features. Was she laughing at her? Or was she... impressed?

“If we can’t have soldiers, can we at least have metal? Iron and steel?”

“The kingdom has no shortage of metal. I’ll see what I can do.”

Id made some trade with the caravan, mostly just to encourage them to come back next year. She sold the less successful weapons and armor that Postrouted had made, and bought some meat and cloth.

The caravan left. But just a few days later, other dwarves approached.



There were six of them. When they spotted the dwarves of Gildmeet, they greeted them cheerfully.

“Hello!” one of them said, a smiling male dwarf. “My name is Clamwhipped! We’ve heard you’re setting up a trading post here! Far away from all the war and danger!”

“Is that so?” Id said. “No one told you about the undead?”

“Wait, what? The undead?”

“You’d do best to turn back.”

“Too late for that,” Salmeuk said. “They’ll be back soon. You wouldn’t make it.”

“True,” Id said. “Let’s get you some weapons and armor. You’re stuck with us now.”