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[Stronghammer]

Hi everyone

I have decided to share a story I have been writing about, with the forum. I was inspired to write a story by of course dwarf fortress. I will be posting chapters here every so often as I finish them. Please feel free to comment and suggest. I dont plan on doing much with the story now as it sits, I just wanted to share. So without further needless words, here it is.
Chapter list for book 1

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15

Book 1 Audio Book
Chapter 1


Book 2 The Rise of an Empire
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Grimil called for another round as the bartender looked back over to his spot on the bar. The Bartender passed another mug of ale Grimils way and then went back to his wiping of the bar. Grimil was drinking as he did every day after working in the mines in the Wild Boar tavern located in the Weeping Mountain mines. Grimil was part of the dwarven clan Silverpick charged with the duty of mining the western tunnels of the Weeping Mountain Stronghold. His clan had been one of the original founding clans of the mining fortress twelve generations ago during the time of Strife. The time of Strife had seen many clans being removed from they’re holds and forced to resettle else were due to the goblins and undead hordes. His clan along with the Stronghammers (blacksmiths all) and the duty bound Bronzebeards had settled the Weeping Mountain for its rich veins of silver and iron. Grimil leaned back and drained the rest of his ale from the mug and rested it back on the bar.

He rose from the bar and waved his good bye as he headed for the door out to the street. The tavern was located on one of the main streets of the mountain complex, running through what used to be an old silver vein. All along the street was located numerous other taverns, as well as other shops selling many things made inside and out of the mountain. He walked past the many buildings carved out of the tunnel walls on his way to the Silverpick clan hall. When he finally arrived twenty minutes later he looked upon the engraved double doors and silver plated walls of the hall entrance with pride. This was the seat of power for the Silverpick clan and had been one of the very first halls dug out when the dwarves settled into the mountain those many years ago. The clan’s history was displayed for all to see on the silver plated walls, in great murals of battles past and the discovery of silver and iron ores. He pushed open the heavy door and entered the hall of his clan to go and look for his room to prepare for sleep and an evening meal.

Grimil was like every other member of his clan, in his appearance and vocation. He had a great black beard, with short black hair upon his head. He had bushy eyebrows that sat over wide grey eyes and a large broad nose. He wore his miner’s uniform, consisting of a chainmail shirt over a tunic and trousers. He also had a wide belt with loops for his tools and a helmet of iron with a candle in the front of it so that he could use his tools in the dark without having to place a candle nearby. He came to the door to his room and pushed it open while taking the helmet off of his head. He hung his helmet and chainmail on the wall by the door. He then took the lit candle from his helmet over to the fireplace and quickly used it to start a roaring fire. He then quickly blew out the candle and placed it on the mantle, to use for the next day. He then walked over to his bed and threw himself onto it to enjoy some needed comfort before heading down to the feasting hall for the evening meal. Yet he quickly fell asleep like he did every night and his snores soon began their echoing chant.

Meanwhile after Grimil had made his way from the tavern, another came to the bartender to begin his business and inquires about Grimil. “So ye think Grimil will join the expedition to the new mountain?” The innkeeper turned and looked at Handrel Bronzebeard before answering. “Well I be thinkin he might, though he will not be willin if he don’t believe the silver be runnin out.” Handrel nodded in agreement with Kranth Morningbrew’s logic. “Aye ye be right, though if he be the talented miner ye believe he be then he must know about the Weeping Mountain running out of silver.” Kranth shook his head sending his beard wagging back and forth as he responded to Handrel. “Naw it got nothing ta do with his skill, he may believe that the Silverpicks will soon find more ore to once more return the Mountain to prosperity. Ye just need to look at that hall oh theirs ta know that they has great faith in their mountain and clan.” Handrel stroked his beard and looked at the other dwarves of the tavern before leaning in and continuing on in a whispered tone. “But if I told him that there be another mountain that be full o’ gold then he might be fer changin his mind.” Kranth quickly leaned in and too spoke in hushed tones “Aye but then he might be fer bringin his whole clan ta mine that mountain instead of just himself.” Handrel nodded “Then we’re agreed we use my influence with the King to have Grimil sent on our expedition with no word o’ gold spoken to Grimil till we be far from the Weeping Mountain?” Kranth nodded “Aye not till we have lost sight of it.”

The two Dwarves nodded in agreement and backed away from each other with Kranth going back to working the bar and Handrel hurrying from the tavern to make the needed preparations for the expedition. Handrel hurried down the street to the far side of the mountain, passing many halls and side streets, till he came to the storehouse owned by his clan. He came up to the door while quickly looking about to ensure no one was around. He then pulled out his key, unlocked the door and hurried into the building. Inside were piles of things from tools to clothes, and food to goods. Among the piles of goods could be seen groups of dwarves rushing about loading the piles of cargo into a great wagon, to be led by two oxen. As Handrel appeared one of the dwarves came over to him with a quick nod and a checklist in his hand. “Well met Handrel, do ye have Grimil added to the journey?” Handrel nodded in response, “Aye I just be needin a bit o’ coin to go and convince the king.” The dwarf with the check list nodded in understanding and went back to his records, as dwarves often had to use the king to get some of their brethren moving. “Well ye coin be up in the lock box in me office.” Handrel nodded and thanked the dwarf before hurrying off to collect his coin. He spent but a few moments in the huge dusty and packed office, just long enough to collect a small purse of gold coins and a few gems. He closed the office and chest behind him and hurried out of the warehouse nodding to the others as he raced by.
Handrel continued his hurried pace up to the King’s hall as he could almost taste the gold he would have from the new mountain and mine. The only thing standing in his way was Grimil, who he knew would never agree to the journey. So Handrel did the only thing he could and used the back channels of power to take Grimil’s decision from him. Handrel knew that Grimil would not likely appreciate this move, especially as Handrel had never asked him originally. But Handrel knew it was all a needed part of the plan, if the new mine was to succeed, so he continued his hurried pass up to the palace.

 As he began to approach, the wealth of the palace began to show and like it did every time to every dwarf, it made Handrel slow down and amaze at the work. All along the walls of the King’s Hall were the stories of the Weeping Mountain, in beaten gold, silver and bronze. The pictures told of the history of the stronghold from its founding to present day, with every war, every conflict, every treaty, and every celebration. All these murals seemed to flow from the edges of the walls right to the very door, and Handrel knew that in fact the pictures continued their flow along the inner walls to fill every part of the King’s hall. The door its self was solid gold and silver with enchantments of such strength that a dragon could not break them down. Standing at the gate was the guards in their silver plate armour with pikes crossed over the door. As Handrel approached the door the captain of the guard hailed him from the door. “Halt and be named friend or foe, and know that friend be welcomed and to foe be woe.” Handrel responded with a heartfelt smile on his face “Aye I be friend ye great hairy bum of a dwarf.” The captain broke out into a great smile himself and moved out from the other guards to greet his friend. “Ah Handrel how ye be, and what business brings ye to the king’s court?”  Handrel smiled “Well Durnath, I have a request of our king and the matter is most pressing.” As Handrel spoke he held up his small bag filled with coin, which gave a soft jingle as it moved. Durnath nodded “Ah for that expedition o’ yours, when by the way do we leave?” “This evening afore the 8th hour o’ the clock, by way o’ the west gate. Durnath nodded and went back to his post and had the guards open the way. “Well best ye hurry ill met ye at the gate.” And with that final comment from Durnath, Handrel hurried into the hall.

The inside was just as opulent and wealthy as the outside, and as Handrel moved through the entrance hall, he passed many doors and hallways leading off to different parts of the King’s hall. He made straight for the throne room, wanting to get finished with business and to have his miner collected so he could continue on his journey. He entered the throne room a few moments later and could see that the King was not already in conversation, so approached the throne. He bowed as he approached and once again marvelled at how many gems the Stronghammers could fit into and onto the silvery gold throne. The King smiled as he saw Handrel approach and rose from his throne, “Welcome Handrel diplomat and merchant of the kingdom, and good friend o’ mine, what brings ye this day.” Handrel rose from his bow and hurried up to the throne. “Well met good king Brotinhelm Bronzebeard,  I come to ye with a request, as ye know I have been preparing an expedition to them Grisly Mountains to setup a new mine. Well me miner won’t agree so I need ye to........ request for him to join.” The King nodded knowingly understanding what his friend and advisor had come to him for. “Very well I will do as you ask, who might this miner be?” Handrel handed over his sac of coins and gems as he spoke “First here be a gift for you oh king o’ mine and his name be Grimil.” Brontinhelm took the sac and listened to the name with raised eye brows, but nodded knowingly as he had heard who Handrel had wanted. “Very well Handrel I will persuade him that it is in his best interests to go with the campaign, I just hope that this mine proves profitable for my hold.” Handrel smiled “Yes your majesty it will be, 20% tithe to yer hold as ye helped to found it, as well as priority trade rights.” The king nodded “Well then good luck and good bye Handrel, next time we meet may it be with ye as my equal in station.” Handrel bowed and walked away rubbing his hands together and hardly containing his glee.

Now before we get to ahead of ourselves, I figured that I should introduce myself your esteemed story teller. I hail from days long past and exist only to record the passage of time and the events that unfold. I know everything that happens even that which is in one’s own head, yet I have no power to interfere only to record. This very text that you read is one of my many chronicles that I have created and passed on to help store and spread my wealth of knowledge. Now from time to time in this tome that you read I will write in a few lines from me to help explain, or when I pretty well feel like it. Anyways back to the story at hand.

I will have the next chapter up soon.

[Stronghammer]

And here is Chapter 2

Grimil was suddenly awoken by a loud hammering on his door. He grudgingly swung his feet over the edge of the bed and walked over to the door of his room grumbling about nuisances and interrupted dreams. His surprise was complete when he swung open the door to reveal the head of his clan accompanied by royal guards. The clan leader was dressed in night garb consisting of a light tunic that went to his knees and no trousers, along with a night cap the top of which dangled down the side of his head. The guards mean while were dressed as if they had just been outside the mountain, or that they were about to leave the mountain. “Ah here he is as I said he would be” boomed Stimely Silverpick. The guards each nodded in turn while Stimely turned around and walked back to his room with a boomed “good night”. The guards turned back to Grimil still in his work clothes and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The leader of the two then spoke up reading from a rolled parchment he pulled out from under his cloak. “Grimil Silverpick of the Silverpick clan head miner of the western deeps, you have been summoned by his majesty the king. Ye are to come with us immediately to an audience granted by Brontinhelm.” The guards stepped to either side of the door to allow Grimil passage past them and out of the door. Grimil however seemed to be made of stone, having just been woken and then summoned to see the king.

 Several minutes passed until one of the guards cleared his throat with a great harrumph, stirring Grimil to action. “Yes, yes lead on wouldn’t want te keep the king waiting.” The guards responded with a nod and a “quite right”, before forming up on either side of Grimil and hustling him on his way. Many doors and halls seemed to whip by as they made their way to the King’s hall. Grimil even noted that he had never been able to travel this quickly through the stronghold as the hallways were often clogged with thousands of dwarves heading to and fro, however the crowd seemed to part in front of the small group as water parts on the prow of a ship.

It was a matter of a few minutes before Grimil had arrived at the entrance of the King’s hall. However his guards did not even slow but continued to plough on with the door guards swinging the doors open before them. The guards gave a quick nod and continued their march with the door quickly booming shut behind them. Abruptly Grimil was deposited by the guards before the throne. Grimil dropped to a shocked bow as he noticed the throne was currently occupied by his monarch, who seemed to be staring straight at him. He stayed bowed for many minutes before suddenly the King spoke. “Welcome Grimil Silverpick head miner of the western deeps, welcome to me hall I hope ye find it to yer liking.” Grimil having gained a bit of courage and had been able to gather his wits in the silence, came out of his bow and replied. “I thank ye King Brontinhelm, for allowin me ta see yer grand hall, and may yer beard ever grow and yer reign never end.” The king waved away the pleasantries and went straight to the point. “Grimil I have summoned ye to me hall to tells ye I have a request o’ ye or ye could see it as a duty.” Grimil nodded hesitantly not wanting to interrupt his monarch and unsure if he was to give input at this point. The king went on noticing that Grimil seemed to not have anything to say yet “There is a caravan that is leavin today to journey to and setup a new mine and hold in the distance mountains. I have been told that ye be the best dwarf to be in this leadin party, so I come ta ye to request that ye serve yer King and take place in this grandest o’ journeys and make yer clan proud. Now what say ye?” Grimil stood still for several heart beats for the second time that day. Twice in one day Grimil had been shocked, first with being summoned then by the King wanting to send him to a foreign land. Grimil took a deep breath and like every dwarf, shouldered the duty. “I would be honoured to go and help found a new hold me king. When would ye have me leave?” The king nodded having known the outcome, “Ye leave this very night and ye need not worry about yer belongings they be packed and waiting and yer clan has been informed. Now on yer way the expedition waits at the western gates.” Grimil gave a quick bow before hurrying from the chamber, out of the King’s hall. He had many questions he wished to ask, but knew they would be answered in time so just buried them to come back to later.

Grimil soon arrived at the western gate to see that indeed the expedition was ready to move out. He soon recognised some of the dwarves beneath their helmets faceguards, there was Handrel Bronzebeard the merchant and diplomat, Kranth Morningbrew the tavern keeper, Durnath Bronzebeard head of the royal guard, as well as several Stronghammers, Gemchippers, Everhinds (foresters, and carpenters all), and even two Dirtpike farmers. In all Grimil could see that their party numbered 26 counting himself, and that they had three great wagons to hold all their supplies, goods, and belongings. As Grimil was standing taking in the view Handrel noticed his appearance and hurried over to him. “Grimil glad to see ye could make it on me expedition, glad to have a Silverpick in the bunch. We will be joined by 4 or yer apprentice miners once we reach low pass, bringing our group up to 30.” Grimil nodded and gave a slight bow “Well met Handrel Bronzebeard, glad I be to be in yer expedition, though might ye tell me how far be the mountains and what be in them.” Handrel smiled from ear to ear as he gave Grimil his answer, quite pleased with himself that nothing had been leaked to anyone in the mountain. “We be headin to the Grisly Mountains, ta mine...” Handrel leaned in closer before continuing “Gold, Silver, and....” Handrel leaned in even further and paused to add effect to his statement “Silver Iron!” Grimil for the third time that day was shocked, though this time it was from a mixture of dread and absolute delight. He dreaded the several month journey to Grisly Mountains, and dreaded the causation of the mountains’ name, but at the thought of gold and silversteel iron he was absolutely delighted. “Well when do we leave?” Boomed Grimil, to the amusement of the other dwarves. Handrel smiled again and turned to the wagon drivers, “Well ye heard ‘im lets move out.”

With a great crack of the reigns the wagons lurched into motion and were quickly followed and surrounded by the accompanying dwarves. They quickly made their way towards the great iron bound entrance doors that marked the exit from the mountain. Many dwarves and sentries looked upon the group with mixed feelings as they headed out. Some looked on with hope, at the thought of this group making them all incredibly wealthy. Others looked on with much cheer and fanfare, as the leaving group was the greatest event that had recently happened in the stronghold. Others however looked on with regret that they could not come along on the great adventure. While others looked on with sadness, as they knew that these campaigns and undertakings often met with failure and devastation, with often no survivors. As the group approached the great gate which was slowly creaking open, Kranth walked up beside Grimil and gave him a friendly pat on the back. “Good ta have ye with us Grimil, I could think o’ no better miner.” Grimil looked at the dwarf beside him who was protected by a strong coat of mail with the symbol of a keg stamped on its chest. “Aye and I can think o’ no better brew master than old Wild Boar Kranth.” Grimil gave him a smack on the back before beginning with his questions. “So twas Handrel who told the King ta fetch and send ye was it?” Kranth matched Grimils pace so that he could answer what he believed to be the first of many questions. “Aye, so it was. It has been a goal o’ his fer some time now, and he be finally doin it.” “Can we really believe his promise o’ gold and Silversteel iron?” Kranth thought for a moment before giving a nod in reply “He’s lived up to his promises so far.” “Aye but them be the Grisly Mountains, none have returned from them so far, so how can he know what be in em?” grumbled Grimil while scratching his beard in agitation from both frustration and excitement. Kranth gave a smile before replying “Don’t ye be doubtin Handrel’s sources, he has o’ way of findin things out that nobody else knows or could know.”

Grimil gave a great huff in resignation to the fact that he most likely would find out no more information about their mission or their leader so walked in silence admiring the view of the great doors as they passed them by and of the falling snow and trees rolling down the mountainside. Kranth gave Grimil another pat on the back and the silence he so desired, as he knew that he would be agitated at just being plucked from his life with no explanation and little to no choice. Grimil’s thoughts and feeling where held by most of the party, a mixture of excitement for the possible future wealth and success and of dread at knowing that they would soon be alone to march to the Grisly mountains through treacherous terrain both natural and some unnatural. The only one of the group that held pure elation was Handrel Bronzebeard the one who proposed and was financing the whole expedition.

Handrel had dreamed of this day and this journey for most of his adult life, ever since his father secretly returned home with a map and a piece of Silversteel ore. His father had died shortly after but the dream and knowledge lived on with Handrel. It had taken him many years to prepare for this journey, and many more to position himself to gain the permission from both the council of clans and the king. Handrel worked for thirty five years towards this goal, which was finally happening so it was with a happy heart that he drove the group as fast as he could towards his goal. It was because of this pace and because everyone’s minds were else were that they did not notice the eyes watching as they left the comfort of their home and made their way through the winding path of the mountain valley. The group did not go unnoticed by many, as the dwarves very rarely left their mountains, often relying upon others to come to them to trade. And it was a known fact that when dwarves left their mountain and treasures it was for and in search of greater treasure. And so many eyes watched the group, and many feet followed them, determined use this opportunity to strike it rich, and others viewing the situation as merely a time for battle. And so the group wound its way through the valley and through the trees talking and laughing, quite unaware that their group has suddenly increased many times over.

Hope anyone enjoys

[Stronghammer]

Huzzah Chapter 3

The group traveled for only a few hours before retiring for the evening, as the light was giving out. They set their watch for the evening before starting a roaring bonfire and sharing stories well into the evening. They all had different desires for this trip and their new home, and shared them over foaming mugs of ale, and plates of mushrooms and mutton. Grimil sat at one of the edges of the group quietly eating his food and looking over his belongings that had been packed for him by the King’s men. First he pulled out his chainmail and slipped it over his head. As soon as the chainmail was in place an immediate feeling of security washed over him and he felt better. Next was his pipe, well worn and engraved with silver. His pipe was quickly followed by his pipe weed and his favourite stein. He lifted his stein over to the nearby ale keg and filled his stein. He enjoyed his drink as he walked back to his spot to the side of the bonfire and group. As he seated himself he noticed a pair of glowing eyes in the nearby shrubs. He gave a shout as he fell back and grabbed the axe from his belt. In the blink of an eye the eyes disappeared into the night, and two dwarves rushed over to his side. “What happened Grimil, what ye see?” asked one of the sentries. Grimil gave himself a slight shake before turning to one of the sentries. “In them bushes, they were, a pair of glowin eyes was starin at me.” The sentries nodded and plunged off in the bush axes raised and ready to fight. From the brush could be heard rustling and grumbling as the sentries charged about looking for the owner of the glowing eyes.

As they searched some of the other dwarves wandered over to Grimil as he stood staring in to the bushes. Kranth was the first to break the relative silence, “Well what be goin on Grimil?” Grimil turned around as he spoke, making sure to keep one eye on the bushes. “I saw me a pair o’ glowin eyes in them bushes, suddenly there and than not. Kranth eyed the bushes around Grimil before turning to Handrel, “Well no eyes be better than a Silverpick’s in the dark do ye think we should send a party?” Handrel tugged on his beard as he thought to himself. “No we keep to the camp whatever it was, it be gone and scared away, double the watch for tonight and every night till we have left the valley.” The other dwarves nodded in agreement and went back to their spots. Grimil sat back down grumbling to himself as the sentries returned. The camp went to bed soon after the evening shock, to the evening crickets and the swirling whisps of smoke.

They all awoke the next morning to crisp cold mountain air and with snow lightly sprinkling down upon them. The group seemed to have forgotten the nights events and had a restful sleep, undisturbed. They all collected their things and packed up, to begin their winding mark through the mountain valley to meet up first with the Silverpicks and to begin in earnest their journey to the Grisly Mountains. They were marching for but a few moments before one of the Stronghammers began an old smithing song that could often be heard from their fiery forges. It quickly and easily was adopted for their march and helped to pass the time as they sang. It started with “Fiery forge deep and cold, would ye but light fer me.” Then another Stronghammer would state the next line while the first held the tune, “For I have some smithin to do, on this very eve.” Then one by one the dwarves in turn would in turn list the things they wished to smith for whomever they were smithing it for. The song went on for many hours until finally one dwarf tripped up and didn’t know what to forge. All the rest gave a great hearty laugh at the poor Bronzebeard who couldn’t continue the song, while he grumbled into his beard.

It was at this point that they came to assigned meeting place with the Silverpick dwarves and found them quietly sitting on stumps blowing smoke rings into the air. Grimil came to the front of the group to greet his clansmen sitting about the trees smoking and chattering away. “Oi ye great lay abouts on yer feet we got a lot o’ walkin and minin to do!” The Silverpicks all broke into smiles when they noticed it was Grimil who had spoken to them. “Well met Grimil, glad to see ye, though ye all should wait a while and have a lunch break now, for the path gets much steeper from here and there won’t be many spots left for us to spread out fer a while.” Grimil nodded in understanding which sent his bushy beard wagging, and then turned to Handrel to hear his decision. “Naw we won’t be stopin ye can eat an smoke while walkin we’re not fer stoppin till dusk.” The main group of dwarves continued to march on at the words, while the Silverpicks merely shrugged and fell into line behind the group. Grimil’s mood immediately improved at being with some of his fellow clan. However the rest of the dwarves grumbled continuously about spilt ale and dropped food, though they did well to hid the grumbling in their beards and not let Handrel hear them.

 They continued to march for several hours along a steep mountain path surrounded on all sides by high rock or snow covered pines. With just two hours till dusk they came upon a small hamlet of human farmers preparing for their evening meal. The dwarves eagerly descended upon the only tavern to buy rooms, food and ale however it quickly became apparent that they would not all fit so many went out to the surrounding farms to bargain their skills for lodging and food or in other cases to pay the farmers. Before the dwarves dispersed Handrel spoke to the group, “Right me boys, we’ll be stayin here fer two days, and two days only, get any last minute tradin and provisionin done in them days, for at the end we leave.” The dwarves all heartily agreed as many had prepared for the event of arriving at small towns, so had brought many things with them to trade. They could have used merchants like many other dwarves would, however they sold their goods now so that they could establish trading partners for their new home. Many other dwarves had never been out of the mountain or seen a human, so used the trading experience as a way to see parts of the world they haven’t. By the time that the evening descended every dwarf had a bed to sleep in and food in their bellies. Sleep quickly descended on the small hamlet which felt so safe that the dwarves never even posted sentries, for what would attack a village in these parts. And again that night the glowing eyes appeared this time with four other pairs of glowing eye accompanying them, though still they did not get close to the dwarves. The eyes like the night before just watched and waited.

The next morning the hamlet awoke to the sun shining high in the sky, beaming through the snow and trees. Throughout the village dwarves went about fixing fences or hammering out house shoes. Others helped to make sturdy boots and clothes for the townspeople and others helped to fell great trees for fire wood. In return the people rewarded the dwarves with supplies of dried smoked meat, bundles of bread, cheese and dried apples. While the others went about their business Handrel and Kranth sat in the inn with their great maps planning the route ahead, while gathering as much information as they could from the farmers and local huntsmen.

 The Silverpicks under the guidance and leadership of Grimil were digging irrigation trenches through the farms and drainage ditches for the town. While they were carving out a trench in a particularly muddy field close to a babbling brook one of the miners began grumbling. “Oi, why are we gettin the hard, wet and dirty work while everyone else be gettin ta live the high life?” One of the miners laughed as he swung his pick into the soft earth tearing chunks of the soil a way. “Cause yer a miner and it’s what us miners do, or were ye expectin the ground ta dig its self?” The others gave a laugh at the first dwarfs expense and continued working away diggin the trench or hauling away the debris. The first dwarf spoke up again in quick response through a grunt while swinging his pick axe. “Im all fer diggin tunnels and pullin ore, but we’re out here diggin in the muck and dirt, thats got ta be some one elses job.” Grimil put his pickaxe down and leaned his arms on it, “I didn’t hear ye complainin when ye was enjoyin the farmer’s cheese and cider, and is that a Silverpick I hear complain about diggin?” All the dwarves even the grumbler laughed at that, for never was it ever heard of, that a Silverpick didn’t like to dig. Grimil went back to digging before adding one last comment “Right boys, we’re almost finished here quit yer complain we have the rest o’ the town ta do.” All the dwarves groaned in mock exhaustion before ploughing though the work. The dwarves weren’t actually unhappy about digging even the original grumbler, they just grumbled and complained to pass the time away as they carved at the ground, just as every miner before them had.

The two days passed quickly and the dwarves bid their hosts goodbye with promises of continued friendship and future trade. The dwarves were back on the road early in the morning with packs heavier then when they had left the mountain, for they had been quite generous in their trade. This resulted in the dwarves having twice as much food as they had started out with. The best off, was the Silverpicks who had even acquired a wagon and an ox to carry all the extra goods and food they had. They travelled after that hamlet for many days before they finally saw the exit from the mountain chain. It had been a restful 5 days since they had left the hamlet, as they passed under a canopy of trees with snow constantly trickling down on to the ground quickly covering their tracks. During those days the dwarves had shared stories and sang, and generally enjoyed themselves. Many even wondered at why all the expeditions and caravans would complain about the travel when it seemed so easy. During those five days none of the dwarves seemed to notice the growing group of glowing eyes following the group.

By the time they had arrived at the exit to the mountains the group had grow to some sixty pairs of glowing eyes, always watching and waiting for the dwarves. They always were there at the edge of the camp, or the edge of the dwarves vision. The dwarves in their relaxed stated didn’t seem to notice them, and the glowing eyes didn’t seem intent on interfering with the dwarves. They always just seemed to watch and wait, until the evening of the fifth day.     

[Stronghammer]

And here we go with chapter 4

The dwarves set their camp on a small hill that evening with the bonfire at the very peak of it. The hill was not very tall but was a very wide, oddly clear of vegetation other then grass. The group quickly set their sentries and circled their wagons around the camp. Each of the different clans seemed to be grouped apart discussing and sharing only with their own clan members. The moon was just beginning to rise and be seen through the flurries when a shout came from outside the wagon circle. “Oi stand and be counted.” The dwarves all looked in that direction guessing it to be one of the sentries from the Silverpick clan. “What the ‘ell?” was shouted by the same sentry just before everyone heard a sudden thwack of a stone connecting with an iron helm.

Quick as lightning the dwarves jumped to their feet and pulled out their weapons. Luckily dwarves unlike other races are a cautious folk and as such wear their armour at all times of the day. The group hurriedly rushed to where they last heard the sentry and the sound of the attack. They emerged out of the circle of wagons to see the sentry sitting shaking his head to clear the stars. The group looked to the base of the hill to see the source of the stone. What they saw was sixty pairs of eyes staring at them and slowly advancing up the hill. Handrel quickly pushed his way to the front of the group and took a long look at the advancing eyes. He stood stroking his beard for several moments before turning to one of the sentries. “Right toss a torch at em, so we can see what it is that be movin up the hill.” One of the Bronzebeards grabbed one of the torchs, and then stood judging the distance. He gave a great heave and sent the torch spinning end over end looking like a swirling ball of fire falling from the night sky. Its flight ended when it connected with the head of one of the climbing creatures. The force of the throw quickly snapped the small creature’s neck, and now with the light amongst the group it became clear what was following the dwarves. Kobolds. There appeared to be a large pack of the small creatures slowly advancing up the hill towards the group of dwarves. Handrel hopped up on to the wagon and with a great yell bellowed, “To yer stations we’re under attack!!”

The dwarves quickly rushed and grabbed their different weapons and their shields before, linking up with their clan mates at their defence points. Grimil was quickly joined by his fellow Silverpick clan mates all wielding their ancient mining picks, engraved with the history of their various families. Grimil turned to those around him, nodding to each in turn. As he looked back to the slope before him he could see the kobolds had almost reached him. “Right boys do yer ancestors proud!” The dwarves around Grimil gave a huzzah before charging down the hill in small units.
They came down the like small meteors, to crash straight into the ragtag group of kobolds. The dwarves quickly brought down several kobolds just by the weight of their charge, crushing the kobolds beneath their feet. Immediately close combat was joined, with every unit being surrounded and cut off from each other. The armour of the dwarves was able to hold off almost every hit the kobolds could swing at them. The kobolds however were not as fortunate, and with every swing of a dwarf weapon a kobold was brought down. The battle went on for several minutes with the dwarves devastating the kobold ranks around them till suddenly the ranks around one of the units parted and a blast of energy ripped forth into the small group of dwarves. The first dwarf to be hit was immediately immolated in his armour while the others were scattered about. The kobolds quickly descended upon the disorganised group, and to the other groups these dwarves appeared to be doomed.

Grimil seeing the plight of his fellows quickly turned his group around and like an icebreaker began ploughing his way to the group. “Right boys give it all ye got, we gots ta save em.” The other Silverpicks around him gave a great roar as they pushed on running down kobold after kobold before finally breaking through to the downed dwarves. In the time it took them to get to the group, another dwarf was brought down and slaughtered. With a bellowed “Form up” Grimil collected the group and added it to his own, and began crashing through the kobolds again. The kobolds seeing the battle still against them quickly turned and fled, into the woods around the hill. The dwarves however did not pursue them; they had victory that was good enough. They all streamed back into the circle of light provided by the camp fire bringing their dead with them. During the course of the battle four dwarves had fallen to the kobolds, while the dwarves had finished off thirty six of the kobolds. The dwarves set to the task of digging four deep graves to the side of the camp, and carefully lowered their brethren to their final resting places. The priest of the group placed a rune of protection on each of the graves before signalling for them to be buried.

 After the work was completed the priest stood before the group and spread his arms as he began his speech to the graves. “Brothers we thank ye for yer valour, we thank ye for yer sacrifice, and we thank ye for yer commitment. Ye fell far from yer halls, ye fell far from the stone, and far from yer clans. But know that ye fell defending yer kith and kin, know that ye will be remembered fer all eternity. Go now and take yer place with the ancestors and know that ye will be welcomed.” As the priest from the Gemchipper clan stepped back, Handrel stepped forward and faced the assembled group. “Know in yer hearts that they be at peace now, but know all oh ye that they didn’t fall fer nothing. We will continue on our journey to setup our new home. Know that we will face many more challenges on the road ahead, and know that we will continue on after every challenge. Now back to yer posts and yer cups fer tomorrow we march forward.” Handrel nodded to the group and then headed back to where his bedroll was. The rest of the group dispersed back to what they had been doing, while Grimil went to his bag and pulled out his cup. He and the rest of the Silverpick clan shared a toast to the fallen, and then emptied their steins. They then settled down to sleep and to their dreams of the journey tomorrow.

Else were far from the little hill in the woods, a goblin sat on a great throne awaiting his messenger to return. The goblin was known as the Great Grey and was well over eight hundred years old. The goblin should have been dead ages past, yet he was kept alive by his magic and his evil. The goblin who was slouched over in his chair, didn’t have to wait long before the messenger returned from the kobold warrens under the forest of the mountains. “Well, what news then? Have they killed the retched dwarves?” Wheezed and whined the old goblin. The messenger a small kobold, squirmed beneath the gaze of the Great Grey, as well as the gaze of his two ogre guards. “Oh Great Grey, unworthy as the dwarves are of your attention, they beat the force sent against them” Squeaked the small kobold before flinging its hands over its head in a feeble attempt of protection. However the kobold had no chance as the hand of the ogre descended and crushed the life from the kobold at a command of the Great Grey. “WHAT, how dare they survive” Screamed the goblin, though he quickly calmed. The age and wisdom of the goblin had taught the old creature long ago that rage often led to failure.

 The goblin rose and walked from his throne quickly flanked by his two guards. He shuffled to a side chamber which contained an old mirror long ago stolen from the wizards of a far away human kingdom. He stood before the mirror and waved his hand spraying a sparkling dust through the air. The mirror shimmered, before displaying the scene of slaughter from earlier in the evening. However the scene was not the one that the goblin had planned for. The dwarves stilled remained camped upon the hill with their wagons drawn up into a circle about the camp. Many of the dwarves had gone back to sleep, while others had set about the task of collecting the bodies of the fallen kobolds and pilling them all together for burning. The great goblin waved his hand and the mirror shimmered again, before replacing the scene with the face of a strange looking kobold. “You were to kill the dwarves, Squim” Barked the goblin at the image in the mirror. The kobold in the mirror, clearly a shaman quickly responded to the statement with a shake of its head. “Well master them dwarves be tougher dan we thought. They be quite tough and killed many of me peoples.” The old goblin sighed before responding to the shaman. “Do you not realise I will kill all of your “Peoples” if you fail me?” The kobold’s face quickly became a look of dread and was quick to respond in a hope placate the evil old goblin. “Yes but we will gets them at the swamp, we will kill them, just give me a chance.” The goblin nodded sending the wisps of its hair blowing all over the place. “Very well, but see to it that they don’t survive this time as I will be displeased with you.” The kobold gave an exaggerated nod of its head before hurrying from the mirror.

 The goblin waved its hand before the mirror again, and was presented with the face of an old human man.” The face smirked before in a sarcastic tone greeted the goblin. “Well hello Great Grey what is the occasion for the call from one as powerful as you.” The goblin grimaced already irritated with the man before him. Tolestus Bruth a wizard of great power and age, often tried on the nerves of the Great Grey, but on certain occasions was a necessary annoyance. “Yes hello I am sure you are aware of the failure of some of my servants.” Tolestus quickly interrupted enjoying the upset of the goblin too much to pass up a chance to take shots at the goblins pride. “Ah yes I did, and I have to say it’s so hard to get good help these days.” The annoyance on the goblins face quickly turned to one of anger. “Yes well, I need you to ensure that they succeed this time, as I have no desire for them to leave my reach.” Tolestus with a look that clearly told the goblin that he already knew what the goblin was going to ask, quickly responded. “Well Grey, what would I get out of this little arrangement as I am hardly concerned with this band of dwarves.” “JUST DO IT” barked the old goblin in a tone that told the wizard he meant business. Tolestus however was quite unconcerned with the implied threat and the attempt at a command from the goblin. “Very well, I will do as you request, however know that my amusement runs thin with these “Commands” of yours. I am no thrall of yours.” The mage suddenly disappeared from the mirror leaving the goblin to his anger.

The goblin calmed quickly knowing that the horrid arrogant wizard would do as he requested for no better reason that to point out something that the goblin failed at and he succeeded at. The Great Grey headed from the room to his torture chamber intent on causing great harm to something to help blow off some steam and so that he could take his mind off of the wizard, and dwarves. He stopped and even laughed, he had something exactly in mind that would cheer him. Now reader I once again have something to say so listen up if you would. The Great Grey ruled all the land north, east and west of the Weeping Mountains, and had ruled it for quite some time. He was at constant war with the dwarves as is often the case with goblins and their type. He decided to attack this caravan as he saw it as an attack and incursion by his enemy. Now one might ask, why would the dwarves merrily walk into enemy lands? Well the goblins had not attacked or been seen in such a period of time that many questioned if they still were a threat. So our villain the Great Grey saw this as an opportunity to push back the enemy and to remind the region why he had to be remembered and feared. The wizard Tolestus however was neither friend nor servant of the Grey. He just helped the Grey in return for safety, free passage through goblin lands, and magical artifacts. This was why he annoyed the Grey, who was quite used to ordering everyone around and getting his way. Now back to the tale.

[Stronghammer]

Any comments? Anyone? Regardless here is chapter 5

The dwarves awoke the next morning to a slight breeze coming from the north blowing the smoke of the burning kobolds away. The sun was peering through the trees and the birds were out chirping and hunting insects. Such a peaceful and beautiful morning for such a bloody evening thought many of the dwarves as they began to pack their things and form up into marching columns. Grimil was patted on the shoulder and offered words of thanks from many of the dwarves hurrying about, for his heroic actions the night before. The group of dwarves that he had saved in particular profusely thanked him and ensured him that they would follow him to whatever end he met. Grimil just offered nods and quite words of thanks as he was quite unused to this much gratitude. He even grumbled to himself about miners would never blink an eye at the assistance if it had happened in the mines.

He pulled the strap closed on his bag and was about to hoist it on his back when one of the Gemchippers grabbed his bag from him and hoisted it on his own back. “Let it be me way o’ thanking ye” said the Gemchipper as he started to march off. He grumbled more profusely before his friend Kranth walked up chuckling. “What ye don’t like the gratitude o’ them ye saved? Well welcome ta combat.” Grimil shook his head “Bah, twas nothing I did that none o’ you wouldn’t do. So I dot be seein the need fer all the fuss.” Kranth wore an even bigger smile as he broke into a great and loud laugh “Bah yer self Grimil. Dont worry it will pass in a few days. Next time don’t be a hero if ye don’t like the praise.” With his parting words Kranth moved up the line of dwarves as the group began their march down the hill and continued off down the path.

 Grimil just shook his head and joined the other Silverpicks, who all shared small smiles and chuckles at their leader’s expense.
The column began its winding journey along the path as it made its way under a canopy of leaves that seemed to sparkle from the sun hitting the morning dew. From the path the group could see many animals and insects going about their own business and  only seeming to note in the passing the dwarves. Bees buzzed about the many plants and birds flew from tree to tree snatching small berries and insects for their morning meals. The silence and serenity of the woods caused many of the dwarves to break into song about their halls of gold and silver or to make a journey down the winding path of memory. They kept a good pace lost in song and memory as they went, with many trees and small clearings passing them by. They broke for lunch sometime later with the sun sitting high in the sky above them.
They paused in a small clearing that contained a babbling stream that made its winding way through and back into the trees once more. As the dwarves sat about and began their meal, Kranth and Handrel stood off to one side looking over a map and holding a conversation in low tones. “We will make the Black swamp in two day” said Kranth while pointing at a black blotch on the map. “Aye, we will the question is do we go through it or around” mumbled Handrel. “If we go around it will take us an extra week ta get there. While if we go through we lose no time, but could be easily ambushed” replied Kranth while indicating the suggested routes. Handrel turned to his friend with a look of concern on his face “Ye aren’t suggesting that the kobolds might attack us again, are ye?” Kranth shrugged his shoulders “They came at us fer a reason and they lost. They may want to get revenge or try again at their goal.” Handrel shook his head back and forth before responding “Nay, we slaughtered most o’ them, I don’t think they will be comin back.” Kranth shrugged again “Whatever ye decide, we got two days tat see who be right and to change our minds.” Handrel nodded and the two parted company and went back to the group to get some food, before they had to march once again.

The dwarves sat and rested for an hour in the small glade snacking on cheese, bread, and dried meat. While Handrel and Kranth were off to the side having their meeting the small group of Silverpick dwarves all sat together and began a small discussion. “So Grimil did they say what we will be mining, in the mountains?” started one of the younger Silverpicks. Grimil didn’t answer till he had finished a bite of his meal and a swig of his ale. “Well Handrel seems ta think that there be gold, silver, and silver iron in the mountains. He also told me that we be going to mine the Grisly mountains.” The others seemed to blanch at the mention of the mountains or more precisely the land they would have to pass through to get to those mountains. One of the older Silverpicks tugged his beard and turned to Grimil with a look of disbelief “He can’t know what be in them mountains, he just is hoping and that we will make it worth his while. Though now knowin the land we will be goin to and through I see why ye told us to empty are personal accounts and buy as much of are “equipment” from the clan hold that we could.” Grimil nodded his head in agreement though leaned closer in and whispered “Aye, though be sure to not mention are toys to the others till we need ta, though if me guess be even half right we will be needin what we got and more.” The Silverpicks all nodded in agreement and finished their meal.

The expedition quickly packed and resumed their long march toward the Grisly Mountains. The leaders Handrel, Kranth, and Durnath all marched at the front of the group pointing towards various unseen obstacles that only the map showed. The Bronzebeards and Stronghammers followed closely behind and where followed by the groups wagons. The Silverpicks hung back close around their particular wagon, all on alert. The Gemchippers and the other various dwarves took up the rear of the party watching the party’s back, while in actuality staying as close to the Silverpicks as possible.

   Tolestus stepped back from the mirror and ended the scrying enchantment on the mirror. Tolestus wondered what weapons or equipment the dwarves were talking about and guarding so heavily. He gave a shrug before turning to another mirror, not caring what nasty surprises the crafty dwarves had in store for the goblins and kobolds. With a wave of his blue robed arm the mirror shimmered and displayed the back of the shaman leader of the kobolds “Greetings Squim.” The kobold nearly jumped out of his skin and spun around “Yes, Wizard Tolestus. How may I help this day, have you got news of them dwarves?” Tolestus smiled at the obvious surprise of the kobold. “Yes I have, they travel by the old road, and plan to go straight through the swamps, as the Great Grey and you planned.” The kobold immediately began bouncing up and down rubbing his hands together with glee “Oh yes, this is good. We will crush the dwarves and then the Grey won’t be mad. You come to do battle right Tolestus, Grey said you would?” The kobold stopped its excited bouncing and stared at Tolestus curiously. The wizard’s mouth raised just slightly to produce a smirk that immediately sent shivers down the kobold’s back. “Hmmmm, I suppose I could though then would the Grey really see you fixing your problem, or would he see me stepping and easily replacing you?” Squim’s eyes went wide, at the possibility of the Grey no longer having a use for him, which would lead to “Disposal”. The kobold stood for several moments with his eyes darting and staring at the various places in the dirt filled warren, before finally replying. “Tolestus is very smart, I will do it myself. I will crush the ugly little dwarves and then the Grey will be happy once more.” The kobold smiled quite pleased with his plan and scampered off out of view of the mirror, down one of the many tunnels that ran through the dirt.

As the kobold disappeared from view Tolestus’s smirk turned to a smile as he waved his hand in front of the mirror ending the spell. The kobolds would likely fail and utterly so, which would greatly anger the Grey and bring Tolestus great enjoyment. He turned from the mirror and strode from the Scrying room down a long hall of ancient stone, lit by many torches lining the hall. He came to an ancient and magical oak door, a short time later. He quickly spoke the enchantment of opening which caused the door to swing inward without the slightest of sounds. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. As it boomed shut the torches in the room flared to life bathing the walls in an angry red arcane light. The only object inside the room was a large glass arch that sat in the very center and stood 8 feet high. The arch had veins of silver and gold running from top to bottom intertwined within the glass. The veins seemed to pulse with some unknown power which appeared to come from a large diamond set at the apex of the device.

Tolestus walked up to the arch, while reaching into one of the many deep pockets of his robe to extract an ancient red leather bound book. As he opened the tome to the required page he waved his hand before the arch. The space in the arch began to shimmer and bend the red light as Toestus began a deep and rumbling chant. “Dunath durnan gromoth grandual greteth..” as he rumbled on he began to add arcane symbols to chanting and occasionally punctuated his speech with a bolt that seemed to feed the magic of the arch. Tolestus finally finished his casting and with a snap of his fingers he was suddenly sucked into the arch and whisked away on great currents of magic. Bright lights swirled around him, flashing from red to green to blue with dizzying speed. Shapes seemed to come into focus all around Tolestus, and then suddenly blur and fade away. Finally the world snapped into focus and the magical winds deposited Tolestus onto a road in the middle of the swamp.

He looked around quickly running the landmarks through his mind to get a better bearing of where he was. “One day ahead of the dwarves, excellent!” thought Tolestus as he rolled up the sleeves of his robe and cracked his fingers. “Now to prepare.” He thought.  Now reader I just realised that you may not know what just happened or is happening so I, in my infinite humility and wisdom will shed some light on the situation. Our wizard Tolestus on behalf of the Great Grey, who if you hadn’t figured out is a real mean spiteful goblin, told the kobold shaman and leader that the dwarves were headed in the direction of the swamp. He then using his arch of transportation.... What do you mean you don’t know what that is? I thought it is all in the name? Oh you mean how did he get that, and I suppose you won’t be satisfied with the explanation that he simply has it? Well in the early days of magic and life in the entire realm, four great wizards came together and...... What do you mean you don’t care how it was created; you only want to know how he got it? Well you got me on the topic now so tough I’m continuing. The wizards came together and created four objects of extreme power, the Diamond Arch, the Bloodstone Tome, the Grieving Skull, and the Peerless Wand. Each took one item and went their separate ways to do as they wished. However as powerful people often do, they waged war against one another trying to take each other’s relics. They finally ended their conflict in the form of them killing each other, leaving no survivors.

The items became lost in time, and over the millennia they knew various owners, until finally we arrive at present day with Tolestus as the present owner of the Arch. The Arch allows for the owner to send themselves anywhere they wish, both in this reality and in the many other realities that exist. They also allow for the user to rip anything or anyone from where they are to the location of the Arch. And before you ask, no I will not tell you about the other items right now, you will find out later. Well Tolestus used the Arch to send himself in between the dwarves and ambush to set one of his own to both foil the Grey and to acquire the dwarf’s treasures for himself. Now with that all out of the way I will continue with the retelling of history.

[Sp00ky]

I wanted to read it, but its displayed as small text without any paragraph breaks

[Brewster]

I wanted to read it, but its displayed as small text without any paragraph breaks

agreed.... my brain was like 'f that' cause it's just not visually pleasing to read

[Stronghammer]

ok I can change that

[Pan]

Screens (if this is according to a fortress or adventure) would be nice too

[Stronghammer]

Sorry its a story inspired by dwarf fortress not based on an actual fortress. And now its all more legible

[Sp00ky]

i liked it!
some rough edges, some nice touches. it starts quite leisurely paced, i assume you're planning this to be quite a long story

[Stronghammer]

oh yes I certainly do

speaking of which here is chapter 6

Chapter 6

The company of dwarves continued their great journey through the woods towards the distant swamp which was but one major landmark on the way to the Grisly Mountains. They marched the rest of the day and much of the next when they came to a bend in the path. The crossroads had a sign notifying the reader that both ways led to the swamp, however the more northerly route apparently led to a small village first. The whole group came to a rumbling stop while Handrel and Kranth puzzled the marking on the map. “There aint no crossroads on the map, yet here it is.” Grumbled Handrel while scratching his beard and holding the map. “Might have been built since the map was made, or maybe the village recently put in a road to being them more travel and trade. Whatever the reason we should go there so that we might get more supplies and get the lay o’ the land” argued Kranth while gesturing towards the village road. Handrel shook his head while responding to Kranth’s suggestion “Nay, we should stick with what we know and can trust. We should go with the path that appears on the map.”

Now as you can imagine dwarves are quite stubborn, and will argue any point to the very end, regardless of who is right or wrong. Handrel and Kranth were particularly stubborn and as such many in the party would have died of old age while waiting if it had not been for Grimil quickly acting and stepping in. “We could send two small parties, one down each path to see which one is safe and which one is not.” The two other dwarves nodded, both seeing the logic of the choice. And so the dwarven company settled down and waited for the return of the two scouting parties sent to figure out which way would be the best choice for the group. Grimil and the Silverpick dwarves instead of just milling about went to their wagon and began pulling out large bundles and systematically placing them on the ground by the wagon. They had six such bundles out when Durnath came over quite curious about what the Silverpicks were doing. “Oi, Grimil what ye doin and what are these bundles of yours?” Grimil smiled and lifted one of the bundles into his arms before turning to Durnath. “Well if ye insist I will show ye.” With a quick tug Grimil had the cloth lying on the ground revealing a gold and silver tube. The front of the tube had the likeness of a dragon done in gold with six smaller tubes opening out of its mouth. The other end of the tube was fitted with a clasp that held the tube from splitting in half, as well as a large butt and a smaller trigger contraption. “This be me Granite Gun, six barrel variety breech loadin. In fact me trigger is actually six very small triggers, one fer each of the barrels.” Durnath’s eyes widened at the sight of the gun and the fact that each Silver pick now had one of them, and were all passing around ammunition. “Ye think we be in trouble?” Grimil shrugged his shoulders and leaned the weapon against the wagon loaded and at hand if he had need of it. “Can never be too sure, me and me boys are just being safe that’s all.”

Now gentle reader I will pause in my narration to give you a brief understanding of the weapons that you just heard about and why the Silverpick’s had them. The Granite Gun is a very heavy and short barrelled type of weapon, recently developed by the dwarves. Its discovery came when a Silverpick was smelting some ore in his forge when suddenly the contents of one of the crucibles exploded sending debris and bits of metal shooting upwards. After the mess was cleaned and the burning Silverpick was doused, many of the smartest Silverpick’s collected around the crucible and left over ore. Many years later they developed in secret the Pebble Gun which consisted of a simple tube of iron that fired one small pebble like rock, when the black ore was lit. They quickly discovered when defending their tunnels from various deep monsters that the gun teams fired to slowly and that the muzzle loading gun was too cumbersome. Many years more and the Silverpick’s had developed the Granite Gun, so named for its ammunition being made of granite. It had six barrels to allow for a greater amount of sustained firing and was breech loaded to better help the loading. This resulted in a very short ranged weapon, that had enough of a punch to smash a hole straight through and ogre The added weight of the weapon and the axe head that was attached along the front bottom of the gun, allowed for gunners to quickly resort to hand to hand if necessary. The guns became an immediate hit in the dark cramped tunnels, even to such a degree that the Silverpick clan taught everyone of their children how to use and maintain one. However no one outside of the clan was allowed to use them or know the secret of their function. This resulted in many forgetting about the Silverpick guns, or never including them in their calculations involving the Silverpicks. Now with that short lesson, back to the story I say.

Durnath just shook his head in amusement, and walked away mumbling about Silverpick anxiety. The Silverpicks resumed their passing around of ammunition, and cleaning of their guns, not paying Durnath’s mumbling any heed. The preparation of the Silverpicks paid off when both scouting parties came running back screaming and yelling. “Undead!! Undead are coming!!!” The camp of dwarves exploded into motion with dwarves running about grabbing weapons and quickly forming into a central group. However with the sudden surprise many would be unprepared and be unable to defend themselves. Grimil noticed quickly came up with the best course of action. “To the front all guns to the front! We must hold the line!” The handful of other Silverpicks grimly lowered their heads and followed the charge of their leader and quickly took up the front of the group and formed a line. “FIRING POSITIONS!” Bellowed Grimil, and the Silverpicks as one went to a kneeling position. “READY GUNS!” As one the line brought their Granite Guns to their shoulders and looked down the firing sight of their weapons.
By this time the undead had come into view shambling towards the dwarves in various states of decay. The undead appeared to be a mix of skeletons and walking corpses all in rotted and rusted chainmail armour with rusted and broken swords. Grimil noted their pace and the distance they still had to go. “HOLD FIRE! FIRE ON MY COMMAND ONLY!” Bellowed Grimil as he sighted down his own gun. The dwarves behind the line still scrambled to grab weapons and don armour, trying desperately to be ready for when their kin would need them. The distance quickly counted down until the dead when only 5 yards away from the firing line. With a great bellow Grimil called “FIRE!!”

The line as one fired their guns, and spat fire and heated rock into the hobbling dead. Grimil immediately bellowed “AGAIN!” after they had fired their first volley, and he called for the line to fire again after that, barely giving the dwarves time to recover from the volley. The effect of the fire however was devastating, the granite balls ripped into the dead line tearing off limbs, and blowing apart bodies. The Silverpicks fired their remaining loaded shots into the horde before grabbing their guns by the barrel and readying the axe ends. The undead horde in the firing had quickly been reduced from its overwhelming numbers to roughly a quarter its size. With the horde only twice the dwarves number Grimil called for the charge. “RIGHT BOYS INTO THE THICK OF IT!!” Grimil along with the other Silverpicks roared and charged towards the shambling undead axe guns held aloft ready to take the dead down. The two lines crashed into one another, with undead relentlessness pitted against dwarven stubbornness. The dwarves axe guns quickly began to cleave rotting bodies in two and to sever limbs, while the undead scraped and scratched at the dwarven armour. The turmoil lasted for several minutes with body parts flying and entrails littering the ground. Grimil quickly dropped his gun and pulled out his hand axe, quickly after he had raced into the undead lines, preferring the speed of the axe to the slow heavy force of the gun. Left and right he swung taking the hand from one skeleton before splitting the skull of a walking corpse. Many times the undead scored hits with blade and claw against him, only to be saved by the Stronghammer made mail. “Remind me to by them boys a drink.” He muttered to himself as he continued to swing with abandon.

Suddenly the dwarves finished off the last of the undead forces, and began to walk back to the others, already beginning to clean their weapons. However everyone stopped short as they noticed that the bodies began to shimmer and fade away into black smoke. “What the heck is this?” Grimil yelled towards the main group of dwarves. The Gemchipper priest stepped out from the group and responded to Grimil’s question knowingly “They be conjured dead soldiers. They were never alive, but had been summoned from the realm of the undeath. This means that a powerful and evil person or creature learned in the arts is aware of us and wants us dead.” The dwarves immediately began to mumble and grumble to each other while the Silverpicks walked back to the group. Handrel appeared before Grimil and the other Silverpicks and motioned to Grimil. “Come with me, we need to talk.”

[Stronghammer]

Chapter 7

Grimil followed Handrel off to the side of the main group and noticed that Kranth and Durnath were already there. Handrel spun around as soon as they were out of sight of the others, an angry and furious look on his face. “Who gave ye permission to be havin them weapons along on me expedition? Who told ye to take charge of our defence?” Kranth interrupted Handrel with a swift smack to the back of his head “Ye dolt, if Grimil and his boys didn’t bring them weapons and hadn’t been ready to defend us for the second time now, most oh yer boys here would be dead. Try to show some respect.” Handrel’s face went an even darker shade of purple before continuing “IM IN CHARGE! ME AND ME ALONE!” He walked away after having growled his statement to the others, careful not to raise his voice. “Kranth just shook his head as Handrel stormed away “Dont ye pay him any heed Grimil, ye did good today. Ye deserve a drink not a threat. Here take this barrel oh mine and share it with yer boys.” Kranth rolled a barrel over to Grimil, the stamp of “Morningbrew’s Finest” clearly showing.

Grimil nodded his thanks before shouldering the keg and walking back to his group. The little group of Silverpicks gave a cheer at the sight of the beer, though they quickly began to grumbled when they realised that they would have to wait till the evening to enjoy it. “Everybody let’s go!” came the shout from Handrel at the front of the group once more. The dwarves gave a collective grumble at the order to continue so soon after a battle, yet they tightened their belts and shouldered their weapons and began their trudging march. The group made its winding way further through the marsh and wood, careful to not stray from the path and keeping a constant eye out for an ambush.
Now reader you may have not realised this yet the dwarves did not actually choose one path over another. For one of the paths simply vanished as it had been part of the same enchantment as the undead. Who you ask, summoned the undead and the fake path? Well you will find out soon enough in fact lets go to that spot in the story now.

Tolestus stepped back around the tree out of view as the dwarven caravan started forward once more. See reader I told you, that you would soon find out. Well now I know their capabilities at least, he thought to himself. Those weapons would be most useful to me and most dangerous to the kobolds, and goblins....I must have them. Tolestus waved his hand and uttered an incantation, which caused the arch back in his tower to flare with energy. The world seemed to shift and spin around him, as the arch whisked him, much further down the path. He quickly enacted an enchantment that created a small hut and gave him the appearance of an old hermit. He put the last touches on the enchantment, just as the dwarves rounded the corner.

“Welcome, to my humble abode, mighty dwarves” His voice appeared to be old and frail even cackling at some points. The dwarves as one stumbled to a sudden halt as they had not expected to find a hermit living off the side of the path. One of the dwarves stepped forward and nodded to Tolestus “Hello stranger, how is it that you have come to live by this path?” Tolestus bowed his head in acknowledgment “AH, I have lived here all my life, for many years. I however have news most dire to you great bearded one.” The dwarf stepped back to his fellows and held a short conversation their beards wagging as they discussed. After several moments the dwarf stepped back towards the hermit and began to speak, a look of suspicion on his face. “My name be Handrel, how do ye know about us to know what news we need? Also how do ye come by such news?” Tolestus bobbed his head up and down playing the part of old hermit well. “Many know of the dwarven caravan headed out to the north to start a new home. However I have my ways of finding things out in this swamp and forest. Come let me give you my news and you may find it within your heart to pass but a few coins an old man’s way. If you would like your company could even take warmth by my fire were it is dry and free from the waters of the marsh.”

Handrel looked back to his companions, a look of confusion on his face. They passed comments back and forth for a few moments until Handrel turned back around and addressed Tolestus. “Ye have a deal, however we will be hearin yer news before we be payin ye.” Tolestus bobbed his head up and down in agreement and motioned for the dwarves to come over to his hovel and the fire pit. By the time the dwarves were settled, the sun had begun to sink below the horizon. Tolestus started a fire before motioning to Handrel and the other leaders to follow him into the hovel. Once all were inside Tolestus began in whispered tones. “The path you tread is a dangerous one, for at the center of the marsh, the kobolds are planning a great ambush against you at the command of the goblins.” Handrel quickly looked to his companions with a look of slight shock and disbelief. “Where did ye get this information from old one, and how do ye even know the exact path we walk?” Tolestus put a great smile on his face before answering the dwarf. “I have many friends among the creatures of the forest, and they tell me many things. For example, I know about the undead ambush you fought through and the kobold horde earlier in you campaign.” The dwarves all nodded in understanding as they had often heard about the kindly old druids who lived in the woods, and communicated with the animals. “Very well, thank ye for yer warning, here take these coins.” Handrel tossed four gold coins towards hermit. The dwarves left the hovel and walked back to their companions to enjoy a drink and to prepare for their evening rest. Tolestus smirked and rubbed his hands together in contemplation before muttering a spell under his breath, that would take him back to his tower and replace him with an illusionary hermit. With a sudden gust the world spun around him before resolving itself to the inside of his grey stone tower.

He strode from the arch room down a hallway that led to his large room of enchanted mirrors. The door boomed shut behind him as he entered and strode to one of his mirrors waving his hand before it. The polished silver and glass shimmered and was replaced by the face of a cruel angry creature of the depths. “Balthus I have need of your services once more, my cruel and twisted friend.” The shadowed face in the mirror smiled and hissed before responding to the wizard “And what would the great Tolestus need of me, and more importantly what would be my payment?” Tolestus smiled in return as he thought of the many ways he could strike the creature down. “Our mutual friend The Grey is trying to destroy a group of dwarves; however I wish for them to succeed. When the Kobolds summon you to aid them, please do as you wish and destroy them.” Balthus thought about the proposal the wizard had given it, this would be a way that the creature could strike back at the irritating and hated Grey, yet on the other hand the creature knew this would help Tolestus. “Throw in some slaves and I guess I could do you this favour, but only because I do so hate The Grey.” Tolestus was quick to respond as he had already come to the conclusion about the creature. “Very well you have a deal Balthus, just be sure to destroy all the Kobolds.” “Nothing would bring me greater joy.” With a sudden flash and swirl of smoke the mirror returned to its previous image of polished silver and glass. Tolestus thought of the look on The Grey’s ugly face when it realised how badly its followers failed and the dwarves succeed. As the image came to mind Tolestus began to chuckle and laugh, even a tear came to his eye. He quickly stopped however as he had still work to do, with sending the slaves, as he knew the creature was not patient.

Now I pause in my narration of the story to explain a few things to you. You may be wondering why Tolestus who helped the Grey, would be wanting to destroy or damage the Grey’s plan. Well Tolestus and the Grey like all beings of evil, hated each other as much as they respected each other. For you see evil beings merely see others as tools and stepping stones to power. Therefore when these beings come into contact with those of equal power they need to use each other to survive yet can never destroy the other for their own gain, without destroying themselves. The Grey had thousands of minions, yet knew that he could never match the magical prowess of Tolestus, where as Tolestus knew that he could beat the Grey with magic, yet could never overcome the walls of minions around him. This creates a constant flux with either side trying to gain an advantage over the other and become the stronger. Tolestus believed that by allowing the dwarves to succeed and setup a powerful domain within the boundaries of the Goblin’s power, he would tip the scale in his favour and thus rule or destroy the Grey.

Now you must also wonder about the shadowed creature of the deeps, which Tolestus spoke to. To fully understand this creature let me first explain the world. The world we live in is a mixture of elements working in different measures in different places to create the world. However in the world there are locations that have a higher than normal amount of a particular type of element. This was known as the elemental domains, and is where all the elements spring forth from. In these domains the normal creatures we know become twisted and changed by the element of that domain, and become its servants. Balthus was a creature of shadow and hailed from the shadow domain, located deep within the ground where no light ever shined. As you can tell Balthus had prior dealings with the Grey and as such had similar feelings towards him as did Tolestus. How did they have dealings? Well skilled mages, wizards, shamans, druids, and other magic practitioners are able to form a gate and tear creatures from their domain to serve them in some manner.

You saw this earlier when Tolestus tore undead creatures from the undeath domain. As you might understand these creatures eventually come to hate their forced masters and will often do anything to get back at their masters. Now then, I have explained some of the story to you so that you might better understand the world and events that are happening in it. If you wish to better understand the world and its functions I can attempt to later explain, for now on with the story.

[Stronghammer]

Chapter 8
The dwarves awoke the next morning to the mist and haze of the swamp with animals scurrying here and there about the place. It was a good morning that had followed a night of good drink and rest, yet the dwarves were quite dour and nervous that morning. Many gripped their weapons with trembling hands. Others tightened their belts more tightly than normal. And still others just rubbed their beards and wagged their heads back and forth. They behaved in this manner for they knew that soon they would fight a great host of enemies on their road to their new home. Yet they did not stray from their chosen path or turn to either side. Neigh they continued onwards with stubborn determination and pride in their abilities.

Handrel once more led the group of dwarves all clad in mail. To either side of him stood the other leaders, who where quickly followed by Grimil and the Silverpicks all armed with their guns. As they doused the fire and began their march, the kindly hermit waved to them goodbye. “Now beware the road good dwarves, and smash that devious horde!” The dwarves waved in kind as they marched into the distance and over a low hill. The dwarves were so intent on their journey and their mission that not a one turned and looked back. And so it was that the hermit and hovel disappeared unnoticed by the last of the grim dwarves. They marched long and hard done their road, eyeing every bush, shrub, and shadow as they passed. The leaders however knew that they would not face their enemy until they reached the place of ambush and so kept their eyes forward.

They marched for several days through that ancient and dark marsh. Every day they awoke they feared that it would be their last. And every night they slept, they wondered if they would wake up. And so it was with great relief when Handrel motioned from the front of the column, signalling the stop. The dwarves knew that this was likely the spot that the kobolds would ambush them, yet they also knew that the cowardly creatures would wait for the secrecy of the night. This was the thought on Handrel’s mind, and was why he called for an early halt in the march. The dwarves still had a few hours of daylight in which to prepare for the attack. Handrel called for a quick meeting with the other leaders to best coordinate for the evenings attack.

A few minutes later they separated and took command of the various groups of dwarves, and with the stubborn determination and industry that only a dwarf could possess began their preparations. Several dwarves with long handled axes strode over to the trees and began hacking down the great trees that grew along the path. Others scattered and began to collect stones and rocks from around the path venturing out as far as they would dare. The Silverpicks with several volunteers began hacking away at the dirt slowing carving out a trench on either side of the path. The remaining dwarves hauled the felled trees as soon as they dropped, over to the work site and quickly stripped them of bark and branches. These were then placed standing up into the trench forming a palisade on either side of the path. The gap that the path created its self was soon filled with a low wall of stones that were quickly being collected.

The plan was basic in design and execution, one that the dwarves used often when on campaign. It consisted of a simple funnel to help deal with the greater number of kobolds and goblins soon to attack. Yet it was a plan that the dwarves knew and executed well. And so as night fell the dwarves placed their finishing touches on the defences and hurried into the protective circle of the wall and readied their weapons. As one the dwarves sat silent and brooding awaiting the arrival of their enemy.

The kobolds too during the day had not been idle, for they prepared for their attack. Far to the south and north of the path the kobolds and goblins collected and prepared their weapons. Swords, clubs and spears were taken from hidden caves and passed among the soldiers. Bows, crossbows and javelins were collected and given to the archers. Individual kobolds scurried about running messages back and forth among the various commanders of the attack. Tribes and groups did final drills and instructions, while shamans collected and counted their various herbal spell components. The Great Grey watched it all through his mirror, quite pleased with the amassed forces he had collected. 200 barbaric kobolds of the south, 140 goblins from the nearby caves, 60 hobgoblins in their beaten iron armour. He even was able to collect two mountain ogres to use as his shock troops. Yet it all paled in comparison to his crowning achievement, a Greater Deep Demon. It had only cost him 150 kobold slaves, and very good bargain in the Grey’s opinion. Even now the beast was pacing among his troops, anxious to spread terror and destruction. The Grey smiled, it was all coming together now, and that evening they would attack the dwarves and kill them. And this would once again spread terror through his enemies.

   The Great Grey’s smile quickly soured however, the cause as always, the wizard. The Grey had tried many times to summon the man to his mirror, to discern the reason for his absence. The Grey knew that something was amiss, and that the wizard was most likely planning something. Yet the goblin could not figure out what it was, or how the wizard could possibly harm him. In fact the Grey was so cautious that had the upcoming battle been with any other foe he would cancel his plan until he figured out the plan of the wizard. The goblin laughed at that thought and calmed his mind. Most likely the wizard was merely trying to cause the goblin doubt and in fact was just pouting in his tower. The smile once again spread across the wrinkled grey face as he thought about the wizard. Most likely the wizard was at that very moment in his tower fuming and churning, ranting and pouting, for with the victory of this battle the Grey would be the more powerful one.

   With a chuckle the Grey dismissed the wizard from his mind, for he would simply visit the wizard after his victory. And when they did meet face to face, he would in fact make the wizard pay for the many years of anguish and annoyance he had caused him. The Great Grey turned his attention back to the mirror and continued to watch over the preparations of his forces with delight. The actual plan of the wizard far from his mind and in fact most likely dooming the goblins plans.

   Speaking of Tolestus, the mage sat at that very moment in his tower looking at his various mirrors and scrying devices. He sat observing the gathering and preparing forces of his two enemies, and at the soon to be battlefield. The small group of twenty six industrious dwarves, laboured in their preparing the field to their advantage and liking. While the monstrous horde gathered and prepared, seeming to be relying on their overwhelming numbers. How different their tactics, Tolestus wondered. The dwarves valued every member of their group, and every member was indeed valuable. The kobolds and goblins however cared not for their brethren; indeed they would kill each other had it not been for the power of the Great Grey holding them in check. Soon he knew they would meet on the battlefield, and yet despite his preparations he knew not the victor would be. He sat staring for many moments at the two groups hard at work, and tried to come up with a plan. After several breaths he finally came to a decision. He would move against the forces of the Great Grey himself, and not relying solely on the dwarves. This he knew would be a great risk for him, for if the Great Grey beat him, he knew he would be doomed. Yet he knew he must act, for if he didn’t the Great Grey would still beat him, by gaining more power unopposed.

   And so with great vigour and energy Tolestus went to his great arch and teleported himself to a spot near the soon to be battlefield. He then began to sway and chant, throwing various powders into the air. After several minutes he finished his chanting and it seemed that a thin line of black cut through the air the same height as the wizard. Tolestus strode several feet away and began to chant anew. This time as he chanted the wind began to blow and howl and the clouds began to twist and darken. So far reaching was these effects that the dwarves, and even the kobolds noticed, yet both passed if off as a coming storm. They knew not how true their statement was, yet it would be a storm unlike any they had ever encountered. For as Tolestus chanted the black line seemed to pulse and stretch reaching towards were he stood. For many more minutes Tolestus chanted and swayed and gestured, as he began to tear a dark black hole open in reality. By the time he had finished hands and limbs were already reaching out from the plane of Undeath and into reality. Tolestus stood and gathered his growing forces before sending them, in their endless numbers towards the road. And indeed it did seem an endless flow, for the call of Tolestus was strong and far reaching. He reached far into the Undeath plane and pulled from it many undead. Yet he was wise and cautious, making certain he only brought forth the lesser mindless undead. Every time an undead of greater power approached the portal Tolestus would bar the way, for he knew that as great as his power was, there were things in that realm that were greater still.

   And so it seemed that as night approached the three forces gathered their power and began their move. The kobolds from the north and south, the dwarves stubbornly clinging to their make shift fort, and the endless undead, all approached their fates. This battle in the great books of history and in the halls of learning would become known as the Great battle of woe, or more commonly as the battle of the three peoples.

[Stronghammer]

Chapter 9


   The sun finally dipped behind the horizon, plunging the fetid swamp into a deep darkness. This darkness quickly was banished by the many torches of the dwarves and distant goblinoid army. The dwarves soon to spot individual torches of the goblin army both north and south of them, slowly advancing through the swamp. The dwarves tightened their belts and began to position themselves in the fort in the best way possible to fend off the beasts. Silverpicks climbed small mounds of dirt set behind the palisade and used it to ready and aim their guns at the approaching horde. The more heavily armed dwarves packed in tight together at either entrance to the fort, forming a devastating shield wall. The only ones not present in the wall of shields other then the silver picks on the wall was the Gemchippers. They laboured in the center of the fort unwrapping and preparing the weapons of destruction they brought with them. Two gleaming mortars glittered in the dwarven torch light, finally free from their cloth coverings. The Gemchippers immediately began to wipe down the guns, freeing them of dust and any bit of dirt. They then took long handled brushes and gave the mortars insides a wipe, before dropping a powder charge into each barrel. Then with the gentle care of an artisan the gunners placed cloth into the barrel and rammed it down till no space was left open. They then finally unwrapped two silver and gold gleaming shaped shells and placed them reverently into each barrel. The camp was filled with a slight scrapping sound as the shells slid further into the gun, stopping once they hit the cloth.
   
    Then from amongst the small group of Gemchippers a single dwarf stepped forward. This dwarf was clothed in a robe of gleaming silver and studded with hundreds of gemstones that reflected the light from the torches. In his one hand he held a mug of holy water(which for dwarves was blessed ale) and in the other he held a large book of gold plates. He stepped between the two mortars and turned to face the other Gemchippers. Yet many of the other dwarves in the camp turned and looked on, for it was a revered and sacred event to have a blessed gunner of the ancestors speak. “Brothers we stand here today against our foes of old, with axe, hammer, gun and cannon ready to do battle. We now prepare to do battle against vile creatures which have hounded our people from the very beginning of time. We thank the ancestors for the great and might tools they have given us to continue the battle and bring death to our foes. And now we ask the ancestors to guide the shots of these cannons to smash upon our foes. For clan, hold, and glory! ANCESTORS PROTECT US!” With the final words issued by the priest the Gemchipper gunners stepped forward, aimed and fired the ancient mortars towards the goblins and kobolds in the north.

   While the priest had been speaking the goblins and kobolds had slowly made their way through the sludge of the swamp towards the dwarves. By the time he had finished his liturgy they had finally emerged from the lines of trees to the sides of the path. Their chieftain was about to give the bellowing order to charge when they all heard a sudden rumbling BOOM. The goblins and kobolds frantically looked about wondering what the commotion was, when suddenly two screaming bolts of silver crash into the ground on either side of the chieftain. The shells upon impact exploded outward and upward creating a small cloud that looked similar to a small mushroom. From the explosion small shards were whipped out in all directions cutting through several ranks of the beasts. These small shards were in fact small gems and pieces of gems used by the Gemhippers as shrapnel to deadly effect. The goblins and kobolds on the north side of the small fort were temporarily stunned by the sudden flash of noise and light. However their blood lust quickly got them moving, and had them charging the fort in an angered craze.

The Silverpicks quickly raised their guns and fired into the charging horde. The first rank of goblins and kobolds was instantly ripped apart by the thundering volley. Yet the creatures did not slow, they continued right over the bodies of their fallen comrades. The Silverpicks issued another salvo at the goblin and kobold horde, yet the monsters did not falter in their crazed charge. The goblins where within meters of the wall, when the mortars under the direction of the Blessed Gunner coughed forth death and doom once more at the raging horde. This time the shells hit into the very center of the mass, sending wiping shrapnel through the ranks once again.

   The dwarves quickly began to turn their mortars and guns around to face the southern horde, when they were surprised by a sudden shout from west entrance to the enclosure. Dwarven eyes turned to see two ogres with bulging muscles and faces twisted with rage, crashing into the line of defenders. One dwarf was picked up by an ogre and tossed fully into the nearby trees, which resounded with a loud snap of breaking bone. The other ogre smashed its club down upon the helmed head of one of the Stronghammer dwarves. The dwarf’s head was crushed into its body, and the dwarf bounced several feet into the air from the force of the hit. The leaders knew that if the ogres where left unattended, they would soon decimate the western barricade. Grimil turned and looked towards Handrel a grimace stamped upon his face. The eyes of the two dwarves met for a second and each nodded to each other knowing what they had to do. Grimil yelled to his clan brethren to be heard over the din of fighting and guns firing. “Right me boys, gather to me we need ta be helpin them poor buggers out with them ogres. FOR THE ANCESTORS!” With that final battle cry the Silverpick dwarves all dropped their guns and pulled out their picks before charging headlong into the ogres.

   At first the two ogres were to intent on the Stronghammer dwarves to notice the yelling charge of the Silverpick dwarves. This changed quickly however when Grimil swung his pick into the thigh of the ogre. With ease the silver and steel pick pierced the ogres thigh and plunged down into the creatures knee. Grimil was quick to pull the pick out again as the ogre screamed and bellowed in pain. It moved forward club in hand to smash Grimil to the ground, when suddenly it began to pitch forward, its injured leg collapsing beneath it. The other Silverpick dwarves were quick to end its miserable life with a pickaxe to the back of the skull. As one they turned towards the other ogre getting ready to kill it. However this ogre having seen its companion fall had prepared its self by picking up the Stronghammer dwarf that had, had its head squashed. Taking a quick step forward the beast wiped the dwarf at the Silverpicks with all the force of a mountain fall. Grimil quickly ducked to the side, yet the others were not so lucky. As one they were dashed aside or knocked on their backs, all with broken appendages. One dwarf let out a bellow of rage when he noticed that his beard had been shorn by the axe of the missile dwarf. The ogre merely laughed its simple mind having found the spectacle amusing.

   Grimil with an oath to the ancestors and to the Silver mountain charged the beast pick held high above his head, a howl of rage issuing from his lips. The stupid grin on the ogres face quickly fell and was replaced with a snarl as it lifted its club and bellowed back. The two met like an avalanche of strength and stubbornness. The ogre started, with an overheard swipe of its club intent on simply flattening the dwarf were he stood. However Grimil was wearing lighter armour then the Stronghammer dwarves and was able to dodge quickly to the side and follow up with a side swinging chop of his pick. The ogre with its free hand smacked the pick aside and brought his club around in a side swipe. Grimil was caught full in the chest and knocked into the wall of stones, the breath being hammered from him. The ogre gave a crude laugh and moved in with its club wanting to quickly finish the dwarf off. However the creature hadn’t anticipated what would happen next.

   As he swung his great club towards the downed dwarf, there was a resounding boom as one of the mortars went off. The ogre looked to the side and screamed as the shell exploded into its side ripping the creature nearly in half and knocking it to the ground. Grimil stood up and spat blood from his mouth as he walked over towards the ogre pick in hand. “Not so big now are ye?” He said as he swung the pick over head and in the skull of the ogre. Grimil's relief was short lived when he looked to the other barricade and noticed it had become over run. The dwarves stationed there were back to back trying to fend off the beasts as they pushed further into the breach. Grimil turned to his fellow Silverpick dwarves and noticed that one wasn’t getting back up. “Right boys, lets plug that breach and see if we cant save them lads.”

   The other Silver picks rallied around him picks all raised, and charged the goblins and kobolds. They struck the horde like a shining meteor of dwarven fury. Picks swished through the air as they continued to chop their way into the horde. Grimil continued to push forward leading the way for his brethren. They had almost reached the embattled dwarves when a horn sounded from the wall. Grimil looked in that direction and wiped the gore from his helm and face so that he could see. What he saw drained the colour from his face. Undead with their rambling shuffling gait were emerging from the forest and slowly fighting its way through the goblin horde towards the dwarves. Grimil looked back to the dwarves still surrounded by the kobold filth. His eyes met with those of his friend Kranth Morningbrew, and both knew that Kranth and the dwarves that were surrounded would be unable to escape in time. “Get out o’ here, take the others and flee, we’ll cover ye!” With those parting words Kranth charged further into the enemy ranks leading the way with his axe for his fellow doomed dwarves.

   Grimil cursed under his breath at the futility of the situation before turning to the other dwarves. “You heard him get yer arses movin, Kranth’s death is goin to mean something.”The other 3 Silverpick dwarves, along with one of the Everhind, two Gemchipper dwarves, two Stronghammer dwarves and Handrel all turned and ran for their lives down the road. As they ran they whispered oaths of vengeance to the ancestors and wished their doomed friends well on their way to the afterlife. Grimil stopped and took one last look at the small fort and his doomed friend. He gave a grim salute when he noticed Kranth was visible amongst the horde as he stood upon a pile of corpses. Kranth was quick to respond before turning back to his grisly work.

   As the dwarves fled for their lives those dwarves left behind were emboldened knowing they had saved their kin. They fought like great warriors of old, seemingly untiring and unable to be struck down. Kranth swung his axe left and right cleaving the heads of two goblins trying to climb to him. He then had to quickly spin and deflect the club of a hobgoblin with his shield before cutting its arm off and shoving it back into the crowd. Around him two of his fellows were dragged from the hill, kicking and flailing by the undead. Kranth redoubled his fury and efforts as the screams of his kin rent the air. “Make yer ancestors proud boys, show these beasts what it is to face a Dwarf.” He punctuated his statement with an axe to the face of a half decayed shambling corpse. As the dwarves fought they began to chant an ancient dirge of their home. “Oh ho there fellow what ye be doin? I be diggin there friend. Oh ho there fellow what ye be diggin? I be diggin the glitterin gold friend. Oh ho there fellow what ye be doin? I be meltin me gold friend. Oh ho there fellow what is that noise. I be the deep horns friend. Oh ho there fellow what be that noise. The noise of war friend. Well fellow and friend grab yer axe and shield, put on yer boots and cover yer beard. The goblins have come now defend yer home, the goblins have come send them to their doom.” The final words of the song sounded only from Kranth as he clove the head from another dead creature. He knew his last moments were at hand the others having already fallen. With a final oath to his ancestors he jumped into the crowd swinging.