Times For Heroes: Chapter 1, Origins

[Haseri]

OK, so this crazy guy handed me this wad of paper. Boy was he far gone. I had just finished telling people at this slaviary what I'm about to write down before we moved tomorrow, and this guy came up to me, shouting incoherently. He told me to write my story down. So I am. I'd rather not sleep.

I can't remember what my former life was. No one really remembers much from before this thing is put on you. I've checked.

I was sent to Sahtradadav after this thing was put on me. I think I may have been one of the lucky ones. I was the High Priest's* personal slave. Joy. I was to stay by his side at all times, to cater to his every whim. The Toata have sex. Possibly one of the most disgusting things ever. The High Priest is, by law, allowed to have sex with any female. And the High Priest I was serving** had sex every morning and night.

He died of some disease** after a couple of months, I think. I was told I was to be taken to the Uldh Koudav in the city of Rakol, to serve under him. OK, I thought. All that would happen is a long trip in one of those slave carts. We left for Rakol the next morning. It's not like I had any personal possesions. Heck, I never saw another human being during my time as slave until I was brought through the city, and saw slaves building a new structure.

I was forced into the cart, despite my compliance. We set off on the long road. It wasn't as full as the one that brought me to the city was. This one had more varied ages. Nearly all of them had a dead, dejected look on their face. I was allowed to poke my head out of the canvas. We saw the city light up the horizon against the bleak landscape.

I'm guessing it was about two days before we stopped. The passengers no too depressed poked their heads out of the canvas. We were told to get out of the cart. Some we had to drag out. We were brought round to the front the cart. I tried not get in the way of the breath of the creatures that pulled it. The Toatan guards escorting us were talking amongst themselves. They obviously didn't want to attack the creature.

Oops, I didn't mention the creature. This large thing was blocking the road through the marshes. I can't really descibe it. No really. I doubt there is any creature outside that looks like this. If there is, I haven't seen it.***

Our escort finally came to a decision. They pulled us all out of the way, unhitched the beasts and hit them until they ran towards the creature. As they ran, the creature's ears twitched. In a flash, it struck. Both beasts were dead in a blink. The creature skewered them on its claws, carrying them off into a forest out in the marsh. The one Toatan who could speak our language told some of us to get back in the cart. The others then pulled the cart. These were the ones who looked the most far gone. I was lucky. I got the cart.

We made a stop in a small slavairy. The leader of the escort told me to give a message to the Toata in charge of their messenger birds. I snuck a read. It said, as best as I could translate: 'We will be late. Vard attack.'

We set out again the next day. We rode for iles. When of the pullers fell, they were put into the cart, and we were supposed to call when they had regained consiousness. It was a slow, agonizing walk.

We were walking through what the Toata call a 'sunken forest'. That is, a forest that has become flooded in marsh water. The road was pretty wide here, apparently a major route between two towns. It still looked like a pile of mud to me. Then the screaming began. Wait, before that something had hit us that had caused us to jolt. One of those creatures had attacked us. I have no idea how somethig so big could have ambushed us like that.

The escort attacked back with their fire torches. This scared it off. But before they did that, the beast had destroyed our cart and had killed all those who were pulling it. All that was left was half of our escort, and about twelve of us humans.

We walked. We walked until the escort decided it was time to stop. They needed to rest, the first time I ever encountered them doing so. We were resting at a place the Toata call a 'vovik'. Even though I couldn't see, they were smiling. I could tell.

It was a couple of hours before the translator, who by some way of a miracle survived, said, in way in which he was thinking over each word (I have tried to recreate their accents, although not very well): "Ve hav' bin talkin about u lot. Ve tink u chould all do tat ting u humens like to do. U kno..." He made an action that is Toatan hand gesture to have sex. Let's just say it involves most of the fingers.

Despite our prostests, one of the escorts said some words. We did it. I did it with this pretty little thing.

This happened again over several days. We walked. We stopped. We did it. We walked again. We stopped a slavairy. I lost count of how many times this happened.

So we arrived at this slavairy. I can see Rakol across the lake. It's getting late, and for the first time in days I feel tired. When I wak eup, our ship will be here, and I'll start a new life in Rakol. Sleep now...

*Toatan hierarchy:
High Priest/Kavdadov: The Guy at the top.
Uldh Kakhak: Leader of a large rural area
Uldh Koudav: Leader of a large city and its immediate surrounding area
Kakhak: Leader of a small rural area, under a Uldh Kakhak
Koudav: Leader of an urban district, under a Uldh Koudav
Priest/Klaokd: The spiritual person most Toata see in their lives. They are the midwives(fathers?), the 'person' 'people' go to in times of need. In the belief system, the Klaokd who was you midfather and gave you your sac would also guide you, spiritually, no matter their own currant stae of existence to Sahtra's real domain. It was bad luck for your midfather to die before your puberty.

** According to this account, it appears this is High Priest Kanav Davrul, a well known nymphmaniac. According to doctors who studied his mummified remains, he had "just about every STD concievable. We assume he had some sort of Three Stooges Syndrome going on."

***Picture of the Vard, the Krakaov and the Naivd will be here tomorrow. I hope.

 

[Milarqui]

** According to this account, it appears this is High Priest Kanav Davrul, a well known nymphmaniac. According to doctors who studied his mummified remains, he had "just about every STD concievable. We assume he had some sort of Three Stooges Syndrome going on."

You must have been watching The Simpson too much, .

 

[Nailix]

Morgad the ‘Orc-Killer’​

Morgad Borstout was cleaning his new axe after slaying a small group of orcs that had been patrolling the area just west of his little camp. Although for some unknown reason he had kept one of the foul creatures alive and decided to have a little fun with his new captive. Morgad unsheathed a small dagger and stuck it into the orcs hand and demanded he talked.

“Tell meh why ye venturing so far out ‘ere!” He spat into the orcs face, then took a swig of a hard stout.

“Lo’gosh conar!” The orc replied, which Morgad understood.

“Nah gunna talk then eh? Well I know ways to make ye talk!” And he poured some of the stout onto the creatures gash , which still held the dagger in place. The green skinned creature let out a cry of pain as the dwarf bit into a piece of ham and threw back another swig of his stout. “Now ye wanna talk?” The orc said nothing and Morgad started cutting across the beasts chest, pushing harder as he cut further.

“Dorgar lo rag.” The orc replied in a some what of a whisper.

“What ye say orc?” Morgad leaned in and said into its ear. “I didn’ catch that.” He finished with a grin on his face and leaned back.

“Dorgar lo rag.” The orc said louder this time and Morgad could see the frown of shame on the poor creatures face.

“Ye poor bastard think I’m goin to believe that nonsense?” He let out a laugh, but quickly fell silent as he heard approaching footsteps from the rear of his camp. Grabbing his axe he rose to his feet and peered around his tent although in the darkness you couldn’t see much. “Who goes there? More orcs for me to butcher is it?”

“Nay, far from friend.” It replied in a hiss as it stepped into the light of Morgad’s small campfire. “I am Daimyo Kisiraga of the Amonomo people, our kind is very different then that of yours young dwarf but we have the same rivals it may seem.” He added as he peered at the sliced up orc.

“Well, why are ye here then? If ye can’t tell I was sorta busy with me new friend here.”

“Indeed I see you were… Listen mighty dwarf I mean not to take much of your time, it’s just our great nation of Amonomo would like to enlist a great warrior such as yourself to help us combat the growing threat of the orcs. We would help you with anything you would require help with, such as preparing for any journey or something, would you be interested with this kind of deal sir?”

“Hmm tha’s a good offer I’d say… Lemme finish up what I was doin’ here and I’ll get an answer to ya and yer lord by mid day tomorrow.” The lizard man nodded his agreement and then disappeared into the night allowing Morgad to continue having his fun with the orc.

“Now I’ll tell ye this orc, all this torturing I been doin to ya is fun for me.” He paused to pick up another knife and eyeball it, “But by the look on yer face I don’t believe it to much fun for ya. So I’m giving you a chance to… how shall I put it, end yer sufferin. All ya have to do is tell me what ye doin so close to my camp.” Morgad took the knife and shoved it into the creatures shoulder and took a swig of his stout.

The orc replied in its native tongue and Morgad was able to decipher most of it, getting the point of what the green skinned monster was saying and then kept up his part of the deal. He smoothly raised his two handed axe up on his shoulder and took a swing slicing through the tough skin on its neck and severing the beasts head…

 

[tuxedohamm]

Unusually skilled in the art of the bow comes with great training. Leberin koth Valae had practiced the unusual amount of time needed to be one of the best. Born of the family of the koth Valae lineage, which is as close as one comes to royalty in this chiefdom form of government, he was not destined to rule the city Valae unless his 10 older siblings disappeared or died without heirs. Knowing this, he joined the ranks of the Highbourne. Years of practice had led him to this point in time, he was to be inducted into the offical ranks of the newly formed squad of Highbourne.

His test had been perfect, he hit the three targets that were opposite the valley from his testing location. The unknown connection he felt to the surrounding terrain allowed him such great accuracy at such a distance.

He stepped up and recieved the ceremonial arrow which would remain in his dwelling. It would remind him of his position when at home and served as a final shot in emergencies, otherwise it was just a regular arrow. He smiled with satisfaction at his new found position in life, but readied himself mentally. He would travel to the southern borders soon to stand guard at a mountaintop. The first line of defense against a Toata raid. Some of his friends would join him, while others would move north to guard against the orcs.

--------------------------------------

Envalen special unit:
Highbourne: An archer based unit that with great practice and a focus into their mystical connection to their land, is capable of accurately shooting arrows at great distances. The name 'Highbourne' comes from the tendancy to be of "noble" birth, but also of the common tactic of positioning on mountain tops to gain the added advantage of height to their shots.

 

[Israelite9191]

OOC:

Uh, hrm. I don't usually criticize other people's stories, but I believe part of the purpose of this first NES is to represent the "first age" of the world. This is the beginning.

I was under the impression that we were some way into the first age, thus the fact that there are well established kingdoms and peoples.

Crezth is correct, and i believe i mentioned earlier that though there is no set amount of time for each update, they are considered no longer than a year.

See above. I wish you had specified that you meant this to be the very begining when in my first post I drew up the basic outline of this story.

IC:

Then, what are these claims Dvergarian citizens and traders have made, and also, what of the sudden influx of hill dwarves and gnomes who have come to escape the "expanding Peit’hom kingdoms". If you can prove us wrong, then do so, for we do not want to be correct in this assumption. However, should the evidence be overwhelming against you, we will have to retaliate, or at least demand you stop and compensate us.

We wish to impress that these rumours you have heard are misunderstandings. It is true that we Peit'hom have expanded, unfortunately sometimes to the detriment of others. This is not because we are a brutal folk, but because we are a numerous folk of an agrarian sort with need for much land.

We apologize for our calling you gnomes, but as of now, all we have heard about you fits the exact description of a gnome.

We would recommend that you take the time to learn of the history of your brethren and neighbours.

Also, we must take offense to you calling dwarves and gnomes "Little Folk". Sure we are shorter than most others, but in our culture, "Little Folk" applies to faeries and the like...and we are no faeries. We would consider you to be kin, cousins to the collective dwarven race, and we would be much more happy if you were to consider us as kin as well.

We do consider you kin, and have stated so many times. We are all, Dwarf, Gnome, and Peit'hom, Little Folk in the categorisation of the Races as it is known to us. We appologise if our Dwarven brothers have taken offense at this.

So, if we settle this whole issue about the raiding, then we will be happy to establish connections with you, including trade routes and possibly an alliance. However, this dispute has yet to be resolved, and you have a lot of explaining to do, and should explanation not be made, we will have the exact opposite of trade and alliances between us.

We have explained to you already this is a simple manner of misunderstanding. Whatever reports of raids you have recieved are clearly misinterpretations of the actual events. We hope that we can put this all behind us.

OOC: My point was to try and explain EQ's misinterpretations of my orders (I really should have phrased things differently) within the context of the intended nature of the Peit'hom Race.

 

[EQandcivfanatic]

All right, understood Israelite. Keep up the fun stories! That goes for everyone else too. Regular orders (if applicable) are due by Friday. If not, the other stories go on. The first update, as stated will be unusually long for this NES. I hope that most of the updates will be minimal at best in content, as the stories themselves are up to ya'll. Only in regards to wars with other nations or individual plotting do i really need your orders. Oh, and production is good too.

 

[Israelite9191]

All right, understood Israelite.

Thanks. I'm sorry if I came off angry...reading what I posted it came off much more aggressive than intended.

 

[EQandcivfanatic]

No worries, though i think that was a bit of the problem with the Piet'hom too

 

[Ace of Gold]

Californian Story #1 A tour of Irvine

Shane Churchill, the leader of California, sat down in relaxed. He enjoying himself in Irvine. Irvine truly is the best and most beautiful city in the World. And anyone who visits there will agree. With the lit up avenues with cafe's and shops alongside a flower lined sidewalk. The most famous avenue, Irvine avenue starts off with small cafe's and shops, then leads up to small hotels and restaurants alongside the bank of Irvine River. And then right before your eyes you see it. A great monument dedicated to the people of California and their Greatness, Arc of California. It is only one of the many attractions in Irvine.



A building on Irvine avenue.


Arc of California

After you pass that, there is Bigger Hotels and shops. You than look up and you see the Irvine Hills. On one hill, there is the sign, reading Irvine Hills. Around that sign are huge mansions owned by big time actors and music artists.


Irvine hills

There is too much to see in Irvine to cover in one story. Stay tuned.

 

[Nailix]

The Story of Morgad Bortsout​

Morgad Borstout was a very young dwarf, only around the age of five when his family departed from their marine dwarf homelands for reasons unknown currently to Morgad. Morgad’s father, Tordin Borstout, was a warrior of great strength and fought off many that threatened the life of him and his family as they were on their journey to what ever Tordin was going. When Morgad turned eight his father began training him and his twin brother, Haldor Borstout the arts of wielding an axe. Morgad and Haldor became great fighters as a team and got their first kill fighting a lone centaur that Tordin had tracked away from his ‘herd’ and watched his children slay the creature. Haldor laid the killing blow on the monster but the two brothers made two necklaces from two hooves of the creature as a reminder of their teamwork and their first kill.

Tordin was very proud of his two boys and two years later he thought his children were old enough to hear why they were traveling so far south. He told them the story of their mother disappearing one night and Tordin’s brother followed her only to find that she was kidnapped by a group of orcs that took her into their southern lands. When his brother had told him he prepared to track her but knew only to well that he stood no chance alone and brought his sons with him to train them in the art of war. Tordin saw something in little Morgad’s eyes when he told him this story and he believed it to be hatred and anger such as he felt the night he heard the news. Tordin thought this was a good thing, that he could use it to defeat these horrors that were known as orcs and continued to increase the difficulty of the kids training.

Five years later they found a small orc village on the outskirts of their southern, major camps. They devised a plan to take the small village by surprise and kill the vile beasts quickly and quietly. The plan was for the two boys to sneak in from the west side, and Tordin would go straight in and begin to set tents ablaze. This plan was working very well as most the orcs attention was on putting out the fires rather then killing the invaders, as the dwarves were so sneaky in this attack the orcs believed the fires began from an out of control fire. Tordin began cutting down defenseless orcs every where with his brutal two handed axe, and his children did the same with their axes. All that was left the next morning was ash and green corpses littering the barren wasteland and the three dwarves celebrated their victory, Tordin took the chieftain of the villages teeth and made a wrist band out of them as a sign of their first major victory against the horrible beasts.

That night they feasted upon the pigs that were left after the orcs died and drank ale well into the night. Finally they fell asleep under the great night stars and Morgad didn’t wake up until it was to late, he awoke to find the green skins sending a counter attack on the three dwarf warriors as a scout had spotted the attack the day before and reported it. Morgad jumped to his feet clutching his axe tightly and swung at the midsections of the two closest orcs to him severing their torsos from their legs, then moving on to find his brother. When he got to his brother he saw he was fighting back four orcs at once, with no time to admire the determination his brother was showing Morgad ran into the fray and swung at one of the orcs, cutting off its right arm as it let our a roar of anger then thrust its spear towards the dwarf children. Morgad parried the blow and sliced into its chest with his axe killing the orc on the spot, next he turned to fight off the remaining three which fell with ease now that his brother was at his side. Haldor grasped a plank of wood as the boys ran towards their father who was being over run, stabbed the piece of wood into a near by fire, and hurled it towards a group of orcs setting them on fire. The smell of burning flesh filled Morgad’s nose as he fought on, cutting down orc after orc with Haldor as they finally reached their father.

By this time the remaining orcs had begun to retreat, although Haldor and Morgad noticed their father had took multiple wounds during the battle and was kneeling down clutching his side. Morgad hurried to his fathers bag of supplies and pulled out a piece of iron and stuck it into a fire heating it up quickly. His brother had begun tearing some cloth of a fallen orc and Morgad raced over to place the searing hot piece of metal on the gash to help stop the bleeding. Tordin winced in pain as the metal scorched his skin but had in fact began to stop the bleeding, immediately after Morgad had gone over the wound completely Haldor began wrapping the cloth around the gash and tying several knots to keep the pressure on. Unnoticed one orc had remained and he sneakily approached the two boys about half his size, gripping a strong wooden club in both hands he swung it at the back of Morgad’s head.

The next morning Morgad awoke with a skull cracking headache, laying down right next to his dead father and his brother no where to be found. He examined his father to find there were multiple broken bones that were delivered by that vicious club and that he had bled to death internally…

 

[DarthNader]

Spoiler :

OOC:

I was under the impression that we were some way into the first age, thus the fact that there are well established kingdoms and peoples.

See above. I wish you had specified that you meant this to be the very begining when in my first post I drew up the basic outline of this story.

IC:

We wish to impress that these rumours you have heard are misunderstandings. It is true that we Peit'hom have expanded, unfortunately sometimes to the detriment of others. This is not because we are a brutal folk, but because we are a numerous folk of an agrarian sort with need for much land.

We would recommend that you take the time to learn of the history of your brethren and neighbours.

We do consider you kin, and have stated so many times. We are all, Dwarf, Gnome, and Peit'hom, Little Folk in the categorisation of the Races as it is known to us. We appologise if our Dwarven brothers have taken offense at this.

We have explained to you already this is a simple manner of misunderstanding. Whatever reports of raids you have recieved are clearly misinterpretations of the actual events. We hope that we can put this all behind us.

OOC: My point was to try and explain EQ's misinterpretations of my orders (I really should have phrased things differently) within the context of the intended nature of the Peit'hom Race.

Good. Then we shall put this behind us. Shall we initiate in trade, which will bring us closer together?

OOC: I know the actions were off, I just needed to respond appropriately to the claims. Also, the Marine Dwarves have never seen any of the Peit'hom, and only have rough drawings and descriptions to go by. Basically, they know you are short, and act fairly similar to gnomes. This will change when we actually see you for the first time.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

An interesting thing I have noticed, we have almost perfect balance between good and evil- 6 good, 6 evil and 9 neutral. The planning of the gods, perhaps?

Good
Elves
Gnomes
Humans
Minotaur
Naga
Ourim

Neutral
Amonomo
Californians
Cenatan
Envalen
Hill Dwarves
Kelhitsum
Marine Dwarves
Mountain Dwarves
Peit’Hom

Evil
Centaur
Dark Seraph
Drell
Gil’Galeth
Orcs
Toata

 

[Amon Savag]

Almost perfect!? Isn't that simply just perfect?

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Seeing as I don't know what perfect is, I'll have to settle for 'almost perfect'.

 

[Tyrs]

Kinda sad when no one sees perfect as everyone being good, heh...says the creator of an evil race. Imperfect is much more entertaining

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Well, when I spoke of perfection, it was in reference to the balance between good and evil.

 

[EQandcivfanatic]

That is rather neat. Just warning ya'll for the update on Friday, 48 hours left to go, so if you've got a war to fight or people to betray or points to spend, better send in thsoe orders.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

The Defense of Tvergold


The Fifty-Ninth Day of the Eighty Eighth Year of the Dwarven City of Tvergold
This is the record of the first siege that our city has faced in its short existence. We are, as far as we can tell, the northernmost of the Dwarven Mountain-Cities, built deep into a gated mountain in the tradition of the great cities of the distant, legendary kingdoms of the south. We have made a comfortable living trading the rich metal resources here for fine goods from older cities to the south and farming potatoes and goats in the protected upland pastures near the peak.

I am Erdev Stonethorn, the Runecarver and Recordkeeper of this city, and as I write this we have entered the first day of what will be known as the First Drell Siege of Tvergold. The following is the story of our ongoing battle.

It was only a two weeks ago when Gorod saw the first scout- the nasty little scrawny thing was skulking around our grain stores. Our archers hit it, but it managed to escape, leaving only a little spurt of its darkening red blood. Patrols were sent out, and all returned safely- the Drell around here knew better than to come within eyeshot of the gates of Tvergold.

It was five days ago when one of our patrols went missing. Searchers found the bodies yesterday, partially cannibalized and beheaded. Once again we suspected the Drell, but this behaviour was unlike them- they're typically just cowardly thieves and brigands, not murderers of soldiers.

Last night, the guard was on full alert as a dozen or so Drell launched a raid against the open front gate of our subterranean home. We drove them off, cutting down two and hopefully injuring many more, but Yavarl Boarhide fell in the battle. He was cremated in the forgefires this morning, remembered as a skilled hunter and bold warrior.

Quite troubling was what we found on the fallen Drell- in addition to the typical strings of skulls slung over their bodies and other various fetishistic detritus, they carried what we must grudgingly admit is skillfully-forged metal weaponry and wooden armour. Either the Drell had begun to trade with the southerners, they had developed these themselves, or the beasts we were dealing with were an entirely different group of the same race. None of these possibilities boded well.

It was soon after, while we were still puzzling over the Drell remains, when the warning horns of our outer patrols echoed through the mountain. Moments later, we were attacked in full force by hundreds of well armed and armoured Drell. A thrust into our entrance hall by the invaders was pushed back, but at heavy costs. 18 good dwarves lost their lives and 14 were badly injured, taking an unknown number of Drell. We have not had the time to do anything other than separate the bodies before we were ordered to seal the door. Any dwarf left outside was now on their own, but we had no choice- to leave the gates open any further would spell our doom. As the night falls outside, we are in firelit darkness, preparing our defenses and listening to the rhythmic drumming of what we can only guess is a Drell Ram struggling futilely against our door. It is expected that we will achieve victory by attrition- our food supplies will not run out in the foreseeable future, while these Drell will doubtlessly be facing a myriad supply problems and desertions from the difficulties of a long siege outside of a hostile mountain, in this early spring month. We will be able to wear down their numbers through the use of our murder-holes and passages above and around the gate- time is on our side.


The Sixtieth Day of the Eighty Eighth Year of the Dwarven City of Tvergold
The day has been uneventful. The ram continues its hammering at our doors, without noticeable effect. As a precaution, we have braced it with wood and rubble should the Drell manage to break through. We have confirmed the deaths of six Drell due to the rockfalls we have instigated- although I shudder to think of what a mess our front will be if we continue this tactic- we could be buried completely.


The Sixty-First Day of the Eighty Eighth Year of the Dwarven City of Tvergold
Things are going our way. We have suffered no casualties since the battles of the first day, while the Drell have lost nearly a dozen. Their morale seems to be failing, although they are kept in line by one particularly large and heavily-armed creature, who we suspect is a warlord of some influence. Spirits are rising in the city, but not too much- we must keep vigilant.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

The Fall of Tvergold


The Sixty-Second Day of the Eighty Eighth Year of the Dwarven City of Tvergold
Things have taken a turn for the worst. The Drell have managed to access the openings within the mountain through which he had previously attacked them. A Drell assault using a jury-rigged ladder was forced out without difficulty, although it necessitated the sealing of one of our valuable means of attack. Throughout the day, repeated assaults were made, and we came upon an unpleasant realization. The Drell, with their freakishly thin bodies, are able to squirm in through some of our larger air tunnels and murder holes, which we now realize are within their reach. Two were caught near our gate defenses, but there are fears that there are more. The military leaders of our city have agreed to not speak of this, lest there be a panic. I am allowed to record this, but am sworn to the utmost secrecy- this will only be known after the siege is complete, and by then we will doubtlessly put obstacles in these weak points in our defenses to end the potential threat.


The Sixty-Third Day of the Eighty Eighth Year of the Dwarven City of Tvergold
So much for secrecy. This morning a family was found strangled to death in their beds. There are Drell within the mountainous walls of our city, and the population is in a paranoid panic. Worse still, the Drell outside are not giving up, and from our two front openings (the last remaining of the original seven) we have seen a new contingent arrive, swelling their numbers further and bringing a large number of fallen trees, whose purpose we cannot yet fathom- I suspect that they are for the construction of shelters for the besiegers, or a more advanced ram. They have hung up the bodies of several dwarves, most likely those who were caught outside, and their leader seems to have added two bearded heads to his grisly adornment. As the sun sets outside, we remain in torchlit darkness inside. The panic is residing now as the murderer has been recently found and killed, although we still fear that there are more hiding within our city. On a more positive note, a dwarf named Axev Woaden found a Drell caught in a thin section of an air tunnel. We tormented the creature for some time, then decapitated his immobilized body. Our leaders are currently debating whether we should throw out the accumulating Drell bodies in our city (demoralizing our enemies but showing them that their attempts to break in have been successful) or keep them as they are.


The Sixty-Fourth Day of the Eighty Eighth Year of the Dwarven City of Tvergold
Disaster! We woke up today to the scent of smoke. We soon located the source of the smoke as exterior, but were unable to see the source due to the sealing of our last front window last night. However, a rising heat showed a terrible truth- not only were the Drell trying to smoke us out of our homes, they had lit a massive bonfire against our front gate. The wood is old and strong, but it will not stand up forever against fire. Worse still, we found a drowned Drell in our water supply- they may be trying to enter through the underground stream that feeds our city. Compounding this was the realization that they could easily poison our water- at this point, such a setback would spell our doom.

We are heavily fortifying chokepoints in the lower depths of the city, and have evacuated the upper reaches. Our miners are digging out the last bit of our emergency tunnel on the far side of the mountain- a precaution we constructed several decades ago. This nearly-complete tunnel to the safety is some reprieve, and we are almost certain that the Drell know nothing of it.

I have just been told that the upper gate is breached, and though I am sure I only imagine it, I can hear the shrieks and gnashing language of the vile invaders. They will find nothing of value left in the upper caverns- they will have to fight through us to reach the lower caverns. All we must do is hold them off for long enough to let most of the population escape, with as much as they can safely carry. We will continue to hold them off at the chokepoints, and hopefully fight to victory. However, should the city fall, we will retreat back to the escape tunnel entrance, and a handful of us will hold this final chokepoint and win the rest of us enough time to build up a safe margin ahead of the Drell. It is a few weeks travel to the nearest inhabited caves, and I pray that they may make it there safely.


The Sixty-Fifth Day of the Eighty Eighth Year of the Dwarven City of Tvergold
I do not know the time, but from how I feel it may be the early evening. The assault by the Drell has been relentless, and our advantages that we had expected from subterranean fighting have proven next to useless- the Drell know every twist and turn, and only a handful of our ambushes have been successful. I fear that the scouts we saw in the beginning had somehow infiltrated our city and mapped it out long before the attack. Such planning is uncharacteristic of the Drell, but so is such organization. My city may be the first to face this terrible new threat, but that is only a bitter afterthought now.

The sturdy women and men, myself included, have all taken up arms, while the rest of the city has fled out of the completed escape tunnel. I will now hand this journal over to my grown daughter, Trevda, who is one of those who will escape. Without her, the fate of our city shall go unknown. She will carry on my work as Runecarver and Recordkeeper, should I fall. I myself will record our last stand, and add it to this record should I too escape.

Gods Willing

Erdev Stonethorn


The Sixty-Ninth Day of the Eighty Eighth Year of the Dwarven City of Tvergold
I am Trevda Stonethorn and I fear my time is short. We were two days out of the city when the Drell attacked. We had dared to celebrate our escape, even as the dead lay unmourned. Now there shall be none to mourn but this cold, unfeeling record. The monsters attacked on the backs of wolves. Even though they were only lightly armed, we were defenseless against them. We scattered, and I heard the death-cries of many dwarves. However, recently, I have heard nothing but the shouts of the bedamned Drell and the howls of their mounts. I am hiding in a thicket, and will bury this record here. I will attempt to flee under cover of night.

To you who finds this, do not let us go unremembered.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Epilogue

The obscure northern city of Tvergold, on the northernmost frontiers of settlement, died to the last dwarf- its population at its peak was estimated to be just over one thousand. Its death went largely unnoticed, as shortly after its pillaging and resettlement as the Drell city of Tegeth, the only neighbours with which it had contact came under attack by the ascendant Hek'Hekath, under the leadership of the mighty Gethell Great-Arm. The combination and experimentation of tactics, including and not limited to pre-emptive espionage, a diversionary ram, insertions of single raiders to spread panic amongst enemies, creative use of fire, and a finale of wolf-based light cavalry was a testament to Gethell's skill in command. That he made a fortified Dwarven city fall in only a week is another feather in his cap- or to be more accurate, another several several hundred skulls and a mountain of dwarven plunder adorning his army's collection.

The last records of Tvergold were wrapped in a pouch, buried, and apparently never discovered by the Drell. However, a vast span of years would pass before anyone would set eyes upon its writing again.