Journal of Catalyst the migrant, 15 Hematite 204Here in the desert, water comes from cacti above, or the unfathomed caverns below. Hawkeye, I know, has taken to drinking only the blood of dying animals.
For others, it is a long trip into the darkness, to our crude wells. The approach is guarded by a single cage trap. Beyond, the allure of fresh cavern-grown crops and vital wood is too much for many dwarves. They run out into the gloaming dark.
Some of them return.
Udil did not.
The recently-arrived cook was ambushed by a pale cave crocodile, as long as the largest war canoe, each gleaming tooth the size of a dwarf's hand.
Udil was a mild-mannered and easygoing dwarf. At one time he specialised in mechanics and jewellery. He was seventy-two, but an accomplished warrior. He defended himself with his wooden axe. The crocodile bit off his arm.
Upon his inevitable death, Udil's pet kitten immediately took to following the crocodile around.
As the death-cries rang out in the deep cavern, and dwarves dressed for battle, I twisted my beard twice and named our enemy Grandcrested; may she never crest the surface.
The militia arrived, one by one.
Our milker valiantly punched the creature in the side, knocking it off the bridge that led from the caverns to the staircase. The cage trap may not have held it.
Grandcrested fought ferociously, its stomach not sated by the arm of Udil. Udil made watches for a living, once. The crocodile ticked.
Grandcrested bit off the milker's arm, hands and leg. Then it proceeded to make a mockery of the primal battle in which it was taking part.
By this point the alarm bell had rung for solid minutes, and many more of the Mechanisms of Genius had arrived to the rescue. I do not even know most of their names. And now, as their bodies are returning to the filth of the underground and the ashy waste of the desert, those names float into the sky to become stars, lost to the world of dwarves forever.
Our best swordsdwarf
bit the crocodile in the left leg. She had her own leg bitten off in response. Then both her arms, for good measure.
Goro the fat hooligan leaped on the creature's rough, scaly back and pummelled it in the back of the head. Even his substantial weight did little to hamper its progress.
Goro had his right leg and right hand bitten off. Grandcrested had taken a beating too, though.
Two arms later, Goro bled out.
The crocodile shook another raw recruit around by the neck until he died.
Some of our soldiers were armoured. None seemed to have weapons. Someone else lost their right hand, then died.
The crocodile demonstrated a dogged tenacity. It is in the nature of
humans to bite off every hand they see, to ruin every working body, to not know when to give up. It is the way of men to be governed by greed and hunger and the tick tick ticking in their bodies; it is the way of men to sever the hand that does the work.
Grandcrested The Way Of Men continued her rampage.
She took another arm and leg, as three soldiers wailed on her reptilian hide with iron shields.
It was at this point, naturally, that Grandcrested became enraged.
The bloody melee became a hell of red mud, exhaustion, and screams in the darkness.
Finally a soldier with a weapon turned up. A raw recruit, with an alder spear.
Together, our dwarves battered the monster.
Someone with a cedar long sword, purloined from elves, lent valuable support.
A full day later, a copper battle axe turned up, brought by a child with nothing better to do. The wretched bleeding beast lived yet.
They punched it till it vomited.
They fought it day and night.
They killed it in shifts.
Who could say what finally prompted the tyrant lizard to croak? One dwarf, Boatswhispered, says her iron shield finally drove splinters of skull into its brain. Boatswhispered is known for her modesty, so we believe her. We shrug, and drag the fresh dead into the blistering sun or leave them submerged in the caverns. And we go on with our lives.
Celebration is a foreign thing in this wretched desert.
The Lady Zair, Scourge of Tongues, Purser of Lips, approaches. She is gesturing to the walls outside with obvious concern.
I will attend to this and then return.
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Topic: Rockfalls the Depths of Volcanoes ~ The story of 20 dwarves in a pressure cooker (Read 68158 times)