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[jamesadelong]

Just a little something I decided to write whilst waiting the smegging train. I hope it doesn't insult the senses or censors as the case may be.

[jamesadelong]

CHAPTER 1: ASCENSION

Solon stumbled forward through the tall pines. The trees around him, encasing him and preventing him from knowing exactly where he was going. But he didn’t care, he needed to get away, the mountainhome had cast him out, sent him away for failing to carry out his duty in the defense of the queen. He and three others had been exiled, sent to a small outpost called Ironcrypt. It was here that a vast amount of industry took place. Solon couldn’t see how, there was nothing out here but trees and snow. The occasional rabbit mainly, the one thing he was grateful to have a decent skill at catching, but other than that; nothing.

The three moved into a clearing. They had been sent from the home at different times and had only just met up. It had taken months for them to get this far, they didn’t even know if it was in the right direction. Solon hadn’t learnt their names, indeed he outright refused to talk to them. Let them talk all the want. They still followed him like lost puppies.

Solon sat down and pulled the cloak around him tighter. He kicked what appeared to be a loose stone. His foot hit something hard. He swore in a spike of pain and grabbed his foot. One of the others walked over and began clearing the ground around the stone. It was a floor, in the centre sat the distinct base for an anvil. Solon stood and hobbled past the dwarf currently on all fours. He lifted a chunk of rock, stuck together with the perfected notch-hole technique. He tossed it behind him and rubbed the dirt from his hands. There was a settlement nearby. He pointed toward the direction they had been moving and the other two followed, the soft snow crunching under their footsteps.

They had only been walking for a few minutes when the forest died off. Its edge lined with tree-stumps. In the distance, past a frozen stream sat an entrance of sorts, three vast marble columns underneath a solid roof, a fourth column had fallen, the part of the roof it supported had caved in, sending chunks of marble in every direction. Even from here, Solon could see hundreds of goblin corpses; he knew the festering smell well. It wasn’t until after he was asked to clean up the mountainhome was he tried for treason. He walked up to one of the corpses. He kicked a spear from it’s hands, even missing a leg and an arm, Solon didn’t trust them.

The spear was copper, it’s curved jagged blade was destined to create vicious wound channels, that bled profusely. He spun it, its weight was evenly distributed. All in all it was a good weapon.
Solon looked up, set against the marble entrance was a set of four gold doors. All were bashed and caved in. He wandered slowly through the field of battle, his path meandering through the dead. Some of the corpses were covered in inches of snow, some were covered in ice, more still were fresh and bare. Here and their lie a mount, a grizzly bear, a beak dog. One was still strapped into the saddle of a giant leopard.

The earth had received its share of blood. The patches of bare earth and pink snow confirmed that fighting had taken place out here only days ago. He turned on his followers, they were terrified, rightly so. He lifted a finer to his lips and pointed at the weapons scattered around. A single question loomed and imposed itself. Why hadn’t the weapons been collected and melted down? Or even sold?

The three pressed on, the wind picked up as the walked toward the frozen stream. Solon bent down and pushed some of the snow off the ice. A dead dwarf watched him from just under ice, his wrist caught by a bolt and driven into the bank of the stream itself. Solon covered it back up, lest the other two see it. He moved across the ice stream, careful not to break the surface. The two followed him, both had picked up weapons, the larger of the two carried a small shield and a dagger. The other a crossbow and a quiver of bolts.

As they pressed toward the main gates, the goblin bodies were replaced by dwarfs. They had fallen back and died. Eventually the bodies thinned, aside from one or two nearby. They approached the fallen column. A dozen goblins had been crushed under it. Solon saw why. The base had been carved out and a single support had been put into its place. This had been attached to a lever and gearbox. They hadn’t enough time to hook the other column supports into the system.

A draft came from the beyond the doors. Solon directed the other two to stay put. They nodded meekly and watched as Solon entered the vast complex. Solon passed through the doors. A vast chasm would have stopped entrance, had the drawbridge not been lowered. Solon pressed on. The draft carried the smell of cooking and alcohol. He proceeded to wander through the main basilica that existed before him. The long chamber and the two galleries carried the same smell as outside, blood and death. Solon tripped over a fallen statue and into the open belly of a dwarf. He scrambled back, wiping the blood and rotting juices from his face. He paused to calm himself down. Composed he stood and walked forwards, spear pointed forward. In the sullen half light of the entrance he could see a corridor leading down to the left. He followed it down, a metallic sound echoed through the halls as he passed over an iron grate. The sound of lapping water below him indicated that the place had running water at some point. He paused as he passed out of the light of the entrance, he fumbled for a torch. He placed his hand in a niche set into the wall a found what he was looking for. Solon paused and used his flint and steel to light the oil soaked cloth that sat atop. Success. In moments he was looking at broken furniture, corpses and scrambled escapes. Food had been left lying on the floor, trailing back into a small door. He took that as being the grand hall.

He walked in. His shoes tapping against the parapet floor. The white dolomite walls had been smoothed. Engravings showing the rise of CryptIron as a jewel of the empire and its fall from grace covered every visible wall. The place had been a grand mining fort. Striking all sorts of metals within the first year, soon they had accumulated all the materials they had wanted. The vast chambers filled with high quality goods were proof to this effect, they soon became a hub of trade. Trading the bronze they produced for steel and gold. A guard was soon raised, clad in some of the highest quality armor the empire had. Jewels and gold pierced every soldier.

Solon remembered some of the corpses outside. They were armed with paltry weapons and leather armor. What happened to this grand guard? Solon walked past the walls. He came across an image that sent chills down his spine. A shadow, the symbol of the forgotten beasts, was cast over the fortress. The guard was smashed and the mines sealed. Soon minor skirmishers had taken to killing the cattle and the farmers. They resorted to hunting all the life above ground. Selling what they could to survive.

Solon walked around the walls of the room, soon they were reduced to nothing. The mayor demanded that the last few metal goods were to be melted down and turned into weapons. In a fit of clarity, one of the dwarf armorers had constructed a brilliant iron breastplate. Its design was detailed in full, schematics, design notes, everything. Solon couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He pressed on.

Soon they had amassed a guard strong enough to open the mines. They breached it and sent them in. Four days passed before they had slaughtered the beast. The details were vague, but it was huge, taking up entire tunnels. It’s stinger capable of providing a potent paralytic, soon after they found the poison was a necrotizing one. The details from there were hazy, passing into the personal history of the mayor. His vicious rule was born of lies and intimidation. They had risen again, digging deeper. Solon still tried to figure out how they had earned the goblin’s ire.

A metallic ring on the grate outside had alerted Solon, He raised his spear and prepared to fight back. A stout figure appeared from around the corner. It was one of the dwarfs.
“Is it safe to come in now?”
Solon had forgotten entirely about the two of them.
“Oh, right. Yeah sure, just watch out for anything still brea…”
Solon watched in horror as a curved, jagged knife boiled through the dwarf’s gut. It’s blade shimmered in the flickering light. A piercing scream filled the halls as the dwarf’s pain racked his body. Solon lifted his spear and chared forward, driving it through both the dwarf and whatever was on the other side. He clipped a light metal and kept pressing through. The screams of both the dwarf and a goblin echoed through the halls. Solon let the spear go, allowing the two to fall backwards. Another goblin appeared from behind around the corner, Solon turned to look for a weapon. Before he could find one, the goblin had charged him and pushed him against the table. Solon kicked him away and reached back for a weapon, his hands wrapping around something hard. It was jammed into the table. With a gargantuan effort he managed to pull it free and heaved it against the goblin. The blade fell against the goblin’s neck, slicing as cleanly as one would expect adamantine to.

Solon stood, in a moment he realized why the goblins were here. They wanted the adamantine. He waited for more to attack. Scrambling from up the hall indicated their position. They scratched at the smooth white floors, Solon ran out to surprise them. Even in the relative darkness it was easy enough to dispatch them. He moved forward, shocked at how little he cared for the unnamed dwarf. He needed to render this place safe and seal the doors. He thought about those columns. He could use those. Erect a sign out the front of the ruins telling people to stay away. Then head back to the mountainhomes and convince the queen to provide him with a royal guard to secure and mine out the place proper. With engineers and miners. All legends in their own right. Soon he would be made a duke and he could go back to the mountainhome and never have to work another day in his life. He’d be a made man.

He pressed on, sorting out the issues of his new venture. He’d have to secure the place first. Kill off the goblins. He rounded a corner, the scrawl over the door indicated that he was at the dorms. He looked around and proceeded past the dogleg into the room. He stopped. Before him lie a hole. It’s breadth and width encompassed the entire dorm. Tool marks dictated that it was made by dwarfs. In a hurry too, tools had been left in places and niches. A bed still sat, dangling over the pit.

A growl behind him startled Solon, he turned just as a goblin kicked him down into the pit. Solon reached out. Grabbing the goblin’s leg. As he fell down he stabbed the goblin again and again. Soon he lost a grip of the sword. It drifted in the draft, its extreme light weight making it tumble in the air. It came to rest embedded in the rough stone itself. A testament to the edge it held. The pair fell for ages. The smell of booze and cooking filled Solon’s nostrils again. There was civilization down in the pit. He was taking the quick route down to it.

They passed another stone layer, finally entering the caverns. They had been falling for almost twenty seconds. The goblin had long since died, his corpse just falling. Solon grabbed him and hoped for the best. The deep darkness of the caverns encircled him, he passed out before he hit the ground. The sickening crunch of bone and iron as it hit the cavern floor was not the death knell for Solon. Indeed, it was the sound of his ironic savior, the goblin, smashing into the ground and taking the most of the impact.

Solon lay on the cavern floor. The cool dark soil welcomed him and his broken body. In his final moments of consciousness he realized that there may not be a way back up. That he may have left a dwarf stranded and alone. And that he may not be alone down here. He tried to roll over, but his arms wouldn’t help. Instead he passed out, hoping to survive whatever came next.

[ArKFallen]

Magnificent. I could practically see the thing myself.

[The Master]

This, sir, belongs in the hall of legends by itself. Brilliant work. you sir, are a true dwarf.
EDIT:I actually wrote this BEFORE I ACTUALLY READ IT! Now I can say with confidence that this TRULY does belong in the hall of legends!

[Roboboy33]

make. the. second. CHAPTER!

[The Master]

make. the. second. CHAPTER!

what he said!

[The Master]

This post must never leave the first page!

[jamesadelong]

Wow, I didn't expect to see this sort of reception. As requested, I am working on the second chapter, however I am oing to have to fit writing this story in around my university studies. Sorry guys, anyway. Expect talented sureons, wackjob rulers andan opressed peoples for the next chapter.

[jamesadelong]

Ok, good news. I found a crack in my schedule. New chapter on it's way.

[jamesadelong]

CHAPTER 2
The Madness of Bal

Solon lay, passing in and out of consciousness. The sounds of the cavern had been muted, each scratch and hiss merely a vague point of his failing clarity. Light pierced his vision whenever he closed his eyes as pain racked his body. In the distance footsteps passed through the naturally occurring columns, not all of them equal. In time Solon built up enough strength to push himself forward. In the darkness he couldn’t see anything, but he pressed on regardless.

Solon was aware of footsteps somewhere in the distance. He paused and lay atop the cool soil. Solon was exhausted, the ground was too soft to provide enough resistance to propel forward with any real speed. What seemed like miles was only about a dozen feet.

In the mire of the caverns, the footsteps grew closer. They echoed off the angled surfaces and drove themselves further and further into the failing mind of Solon. Eventually they were on top of him. With a sharp kick to the ribs, Solon was well aware of their presence. A pair of hushed voices echoed over him.
“What should we do with him?”
“Take him back; at the very least we could use him to dig.”
“Look at him, his arms sticking out of the flesh. He’s only going to take up our medicine. Besides, that nutcase king would probably skin him and use him as food for the bear. Better to leave him to the trog’s.”
“Yeah, and then we get seven shades kicked out of us for not taking him on the off chance he wants him.”
“Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. I suppose we could always take whatever he has on him when we get there. Besides, if we leave him here and the trog’s get him, the stench of the corpse will probably attract all sorts of crap.”
”Fair point, c’mon. Lets go.”

The two dwarfs lifted and moved Solon through the caves. Back through a barren wasteland of web and moss. They came across a barricade, a multitude of chunks of rock, furniture and piled garbage sat amongst the natural pillars. Small creatures nested in the nooks and holes, ropes tied the larger chunks together. Suspended above was a metal catwalk, dwarfs clad in scrap metal wielding a variety of ranged weaponry looked on as the three approached. A large gate, made up of hundreds of plates of iron and tin bolted together opened slowly revealing a squat fortress. Small fires lit the narrow streets between buildings without roofs. The buildings themselves were composed of timbers, mesh plating and any other scrap. Gutters ran with filthy putrid water. A butchery sat open, a pair of dwarfs toiled, collecting anything that was possibly edible and cutting it down to small chunks. A low pot sat atop a bed of flame, boiling it all until it had the consistency of leather. All this was barreled with the little alcohol they had and handed out as rations to the scavenger parties. At the far end stood the only building that looked watertight, constructed with dolomite from the surface, it served as the great hall, villa and hospital for those few in charge.

The two dumped Solon at the hospital set up inside the dolomite villa. He lay on a layer of moss in a bed built from the materials at hand. In the light from dozens of tallow candles attendants tended to the patients with what resources they had at hand. A surgery at the far end of the room was splattered with blood. A dwarf was carting the various off cuts to the butchery. A dwarf, tall lean and gaunt, clad in just an apron and a pair of pants stood cleaning a cleaver. He looked over the dead and the dying and pointed silently to an unconscious dwarf that lay next to Solon. His stomach had been ruptured, the filthy and frayed bandages that were wrapped around his gut smelt awful. Solon watched in his half conscious state and he was hauled by an attendant. The surgeon looked over his new patient and got to work. Removing the parts that were infected and festering and treating as much as possible. The constant smell of iron filled the room. Solon watched as the surgeon straightened and shook his head. Quickly Solon turned his head as a scream pierced the room and was silenced quickly.

The surgeon directed his attention to Solon, pointing lazily with clever in hand, the attendants grabbed Solon’s shoulders and knees. He screamed as pain shot through both arms and fell to a whimper as he was dumped on the rough wooden table. The surgeon looked on before turning to an attendant, his voice was almost abrasive.
“This one is from the surface, yes? His flesh hasn’t lost it’s pigment.”
The attendant was solemn in his response. Either out of fear or respect.
“Yes sir, he was brought in as you were tending to the last patient.”
“Fine, hand me the last of anesthetic twelve. Has there been any luck with synthesizing any of the plants down here into a new anesthetic?”
“No sir, the herbalist continues to fail at the task you handed down.”
The smile that crept across the surgeons face was filled with condescension and smug self satisfaction.
”Did we expect any less?”
The attendant looked away.
“No sir, of course we didn’t.”
“Good. Now hand me the bottle.”
Solon watched on, exhausted and unable to fight back. The surgeon wet a cloth with the bottle, emptying it in the process. He flicked the bottle away and pressed the cloth to the Solons face. Solon tried to turn his head but was met with resistance from the long, dexterous fingers that dug into his cheeks. Solon breathed in, his world collapsing in around him. In moments he was gone.

Solon awoke on a bed. A proper bed, with sheets and blankets. His earlier lack of strength had vanished, his arms had been put into casts. He looked around, he was no longer in the hospital. The candles had been replaced with a fire pit. An iron door on the far side of the room was well crafted and the only other object of any interest. Solon tried to stand but found his legs were weak. He sat on the edge of his bed, hoping the room would stop spinning. As he attempted to stand for the second time the door was pushed open. A small dwarf wandered in with an armful of timber. Solon looked at him and spoke, his voice was weak and distant, his lungs wretched from the anesthetic.
“Hello? Can you help? Where am I?”
The dwarf avoided eye contact and dumped the wood into the pit. Solon tried to follow him as he left but found the door bolted. He stood, wavering on the spot. His clothes were torn from the fall, his cloak and shoes were gone but he somehow managed to keep his leather tunic. His light pigtail shirt and much heavier pants were all he had.

He took a deep breath and tried the door, finding the casts awkward to work with. The surgeon had done a good job, his wounds were clean and the stitching was tight and fine. Despite being one of the most unsettling dwarfs he had ever encountered, he was beyond the skills of any of the surgeons he had ever encountered. Solon figured that it was a by-product of the obscene amount of practice any cavern would provide.

Footsteps moved toward the door, Solon looked wearily, number twelve still distancing his mind from the world. A dwarf walked in, her head bowed meekly. She spoke in a soft, subservient voice.
“The lord will see you now”
She turned and began to walk out, seemingly unaware of Solon. Solon followed, trying not to fall over. They passed by a number of doors, finally arriving at a set of large oak doors. The young dwarf opened the door and held it for Solon. The too passed through in silence.

The room was massive, cut into three by massive silk curtains. A throne sat in the centre third, raised upon a plinth and carved from a single piece of marble. To Solon’s right lay the lord’s bedroom, a luxurious parlor littered with tables, chairs, oaken chests and a rand bed. Solon found the presence of chains above the bed unsettling. To his left sat the lord’s study, a long bench filed with the various implements of torture, a cage, crusty with blood of all types. Right throughout the round was littered with gold trinkets, platinum crowns, aluminium coins. A dwarf, clad in the finest silk and fur lazed on the engraved ground in front of the throne, admiring a mirror of himself and sipping wine from a bronze goblet.

The young female dwarf bowed and avoided eye-contact.
“I have brought the guest as you requested.”
The dwarf rose up, looking with disgust at the young girl. He growled with a voice of mercury.
“Do you think I’m blind?!”
“No sir! I didn’t, I was just…”
He kicked a dented crown and moved toward her, flying into a rage.
“I didn’t damn well ask you to talk! If I wanted you to talk I would have asked for it. Your filth! Nothing but disgusting filth! I stand a hundred times greater than you, I run this place, and yet you presume to tell me the obvious? Get out! Now!”
He howled and threw the goblet at her, wine trailed the distance between the two. She cowered and fled, leaving Solon to face the maniac. Solon’s mind was just starting to achieve clarity, he looked on with reigned contempt
“My sincere apologies. As a member of her majesties own, you of all dwarfs must know to crush rebellion before it begins.”
“I wasn’t aware that it had even begun.”
“Oh it has, if it wasn’t for the people who shared my vision, we would have collapsed long ago. I believe you have met one of them. The surgeon who patched up your arm? Yes, he is an incredible man, filled with grand ideas. He’s advanced medical science quite a bit, so he tells me.”
The dwarf returned to his throne, reclining over the arms of the chair. He motioned for Solon to pull up a small chair from his bedroom. Solon complied, constantly watching this mad creature.

Once seated, the dwarf opposite him spoke lazily. Waving his hands and demonstrating with shapes wholly unrelated to the topic at hand, trying very hard to appeal himself to Solon. Solon found it difficult to even consider his point of view, let alone express anything outside disgusted boredom.
“I’m afraid I have forgotten to introduce myself. I am Bal Atthem, the great and glorious. I have led these people to the world they have forged for themselves and I am the sole reason they exist. Every scrap of adamantine the empire has is owed to me. And this is why I demand simple obedience. I have a plan you know! You’d enjoy it, but alas. Im afraid it’s a secret. Wine?”
Solon shook his head and bean to think of an escape route. He considered stabbing this dwarf, he left himself quite open to attack. Bal’s speech became more and more excited as time passed and he was with his captive audience.
“I have been informed that you were found under the hole to the surface? Are you a royal consul here to tell me that the Queen’s forces are coming to help? I hate to disappoint but I’m afraid it’s too late. We’ve abandoned the surface you see. Indeed, we’ve built a new fort down here, in the darkness. I’m sure your very impressed.”
Solon replied curtly, leaning back on his chair. His look of boredom replaced by concern. Bal was mad, as far as the Queen knew, there were no issues here. Even the consuls were unconcerned with the trade coming in.
“I’m afraid I’m an exile.”
Bal paused for a moment, the first time he had stopped talking.
“Oh? Brilliant! Then you must know of her betrayal to the outer colonies! Are you here to help me? A man of vision? I would very much welcome another.”
Solon couldn’t see how lying to this madman would assist the situation. Bal would twist the truth to feed his sick fantasies of grandeur, lying would only bring him down on top of him.
“I came here expecting a colony on the surface. Something I could take control of. I’m sorry, I was the aide-de-camp to he queen herself. After she was attacked by the goblins and I wasn’t there to help, I was sent away.”
Bal’s look of excitement fell away. Replaced with something sinister. He watched for a moment before sitting up and leaning toward Solon. His voice was quiet and soft, smacking of plans for pain and contempt
“So your not here to herald the army?”
“No.”
“Your not a man of vision?”
“No, I’m not.”
“And you wanted my throne?”
“Correct”
“And you expect me not to kill you?”
“It would be appreciated. Infact I’d leave and never come back if you wanted.”
“No, I’m afraid It’s not. We… are a little short staffed in the scavenger crews. I’m sure you saw what happened to them in the surgery. Guards!”
Two guards appeared through the door, one wearing the breastplate detailed upon the wall of the hall aboveground. The other in a light blue breastplate, studded with gold and lined with silver piping. Solon stood and Bal leant back in his throne. No longer interested in the filth that stood before him.
“See this man? I want him gone, the long way, the way with cave spiders and trolls. At least this way he may be of some use. Armok knows we need more of his useless ilk. Besides, he’ll be able to meet another man of vision. Possibly learn why they choose o live in the glory of their lord. Take him and go.”

The guards led Solon out of the room, through more corridors before opening out into a great hall. It was silent and empty, food stores littered the room, all untouched. Bal was hoarding everything for himself and those with ‘vision’. Solon passed by, silently grabbing a plump helmet and tucking up into one of his casts.

The three moved out into the courtyard. Solon noticed how cold it was inside he caverns. Dwarfs of all types littered the filthy streets. Their broken homes not stopping the cold, they relied on matted fur clothing and he small fires that littered the streets and alleys for warmth. A group of woodcutters were bringing in a sled of nethercaps. The logs were blue and caked in frost. In the distance Solon saw a vast line of men and women with bowls and cups, collecting the boiled remnants from the butchery. Off cuts of the surgery, hunted beasts, rotting carcasses. The health ramifications were obvious. A blight had settled upon the small city, bloating parts of the body, creating open sores and then scaring over. Anybody who had to consume the poison that was the diseased food was affected. Malnutrition was rife.

Solon watched as a group of leather clad soldiers wielding cheap copper weapons dragged their wounded brethren into the surgery door. The surgeon smiled that terrifying smile of his as he watched the newcomers. More soldiers prepared to exit the gate. As the guards led him to a pavilion, a senior member was pointing at a scrawled map. The guards stopped at the fabric doors and pushed Solon in, disappearing as quickly and silently as they had come. Solon stood, being watched by this dwarf. His uniform was a myriad of pieces, the tunic of an officer of the old guard, a pair of ragged silk pants, a light copper kettle helmet. It had been collected from years of service. He didn’t suffer the blight however, Solon knew this was one of the men of ‘vision’ that Bal had mentioned. The dwarf stood, the light from a lamp on the table glittering off the polished copper and his brass buttons. He spoke in a gruff snarl, Solon noticed that his hands were never more than a few inches apart.
“Who’re you? More so, what the hell am I supposed to do with a man in casts? Who does Bal think I am, a fucking miracle worker? Lord Armok, get his man a coat and a knife he can be part of the cartographers for all I care.”
An aide quickly followed his orders, bringing Solon a ripped and bloodstained grey longcoat and a long curved dagger. So he was ushered out into a small, muddy field. Staked torches lit a number of other groups. All decrepit and carrying an assortment of goods. One small group waved him over.

The leader of he group, a bald dwarf with a bronzed pleated beard handed Solon a backpack.
“You can’t fight so you’ll carry this. It’s filled with paper and ink, so don’ loose it or we can’t do our job and if we can’t do our job, we’re dead. Ok?”
Solon nodded and shouldered he backpack, he wondered if the general ignorance was due to the blight. He carried on regardless. Following the group to the main gates. He paused as it opened, he dwarfs atop of the catwalk watched silently as the group moved out into the natural corridors of the damp forbidding caverns.

Solon walked on, following the group. He knew his survival depended on the dwarfs around him, all four were downtrodden and weak. Solon feared for his life dearly, yet oddly he didn’t show it. He strode on behind, silently, watching.

[The Master]

You`re amazing! Keep it up!

[jamesadelong]

You`re amazing! Keep it up!

Thanks, will do

[ArKFallen]

You`re amazing! Keep it up!

Thanks, will do

Then Thank You! I really enjoy this story, its different compared to fort re-tellings. More personal.

[jamesadelong]

I'm glad you enjoy it. I'll keep writing in a bit after I write paper for uni.

[Roboboy33]

CHAPTER 3 GET!