Equipment – Miscellaneous (Book)
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My dear diary,
it has now already been 63 years since Nanosh brought the baggage train all the way to the edge of the Grolm City, as the long-time residents told me. It’s hard to believe that some have been doing their duty here from the beginning. I have only been here for a few rock formations cycles and even if my sense of duty keeps me from bemoaning my fate, I must say that life here, so far away from home, is not a bowl of cherries. And it isn’t even so much the distance that stirs a longing for Murolosh deep in my soul, but this bleak place itself. The caves here don’t contain the rock as we know it from the Murolosh area, which is both smooth and warm. It is rugged, cold and of well-nigh metallic hardness. …I don’t like the rock here!
Some of the sentinels say I’m exaggerating, but I, Herngrosh Son of the Hagramm, a 4th generation stonemason, say this rock is not rock, it is an enemy. It is almost as if it rebels against my will to form it. Yet there is one good thing: There is scarcely any relevant ore in this meager rock. Neither iron, copper nor gold or even diamonds that make a dwarf’s heart beat faster – nothing. That results in there being no necessity to penetrate farther into large expanses of this area. The passageways are already constructed and shaped so that my work is generally limited to a few repairs. Oh …I am weary. Tomorrow will be another early start so I’ll go get some sleep now. Night
Dear diary,
how wonderful, in the meantime I have become the handyman for everything. In addition to my stonemason’s tasks I run small errands, scrub the floor in the kitchen and bring the guards their meals on their watch. The sentries are pleasant enough, but if only that fellow Garlosh from the observation deck wasn’t around. I tell you he’s not all there. If he gets on my back one more time, then I’ll carve a new stupid grin on his face with my chisel! Where have I got to! He’s always grousing at me. Asks if I have been sleeping under a stalactite so long, that my head has been completely hollowed out by erosion. No matter how friendly I am to him, he has some mocking comment every single time. …I can’t abide that fellow.
Dear diary,
two weeks have already gone by. Rumors about these small, cursed dragon worshippers came to my ears today. They are said to perform unnatural experiments deep in their caverns. They are talking about magical reanimations of the most loathsome type. I don’t know what to make of it. I agree that my Dwarven brothers can be quite peculiar. Nearly every single one of them carries a variety of talismans on them. Some are even downright paranoid. In addition, a hint of extreme religious zeal is always evident in their speech. So that you don’t misunderstand me, I’m really an Angosh-fearing Dwarf, but those guys seem to have lost some of their marbles! That is a most evil Steinbeiserangram. But I won’t let it distract me, I don’t have time to waste on such nonsense, I have other things to do. The 18 tables in the mess hall may be somewhat lower now, but at least the axe marks aren’t there anymore. That comes from the idiotic rationing of the beer. That cost me 34 rock planing sheets – that damned stone!
Dear diary,
For the last month I’ve been repairing the warped frames of the doors in the east wing of the weapons chamber. It’s a mystery to me how stone can become that warped in such a short period of time. But nothing much that happens here surprises me anymore. Oh, by the way, we ran out of beer because the delivery from Murolosh didn’t arrive. Good grief, who is actually in charge of organizing the supplies here? When I’m finished with the doors here, then I can go back to sanding in the mess hall. This isn’t for me, I’ve decided that I won’t here stay much longer. Never mind the guild regulations, I have no desire to waste the next 80 stone cycles at this job with these lunatics. I’ll write a letter to my uncle so that he can push the guild master into authorizing my transfer to Murolosh. He has the right connections to do that.
Dear diary,
If only the days would go by faster. The short time I’ve spent here already have worn me down like my great grandmother’s minced mushroom pasties. Be that as it may, the worst part is that the commanding officer Nanosh has stuck me in Garlosh’s job. That’s the end of my transfer hopes. I would have to do this job until Garlosh can resume his duties, he told me. Now I here I sit and spend the whole shift at the big ballista, staring out over the Grolm city, as if anything at all had ever happened there within the last 20 stone cyles or so. The world is so cruel…
Dear diary,
Everything is quiet at my post. No movement on the other side. I don’t even know what those Grolms look like. Especially since it is so far away that you can hardly make anything out through the distance fog and rock formations. Only that pale yellow glow that shines through the darkness. You can’t really call this line of work hard. I even get my meals brought to me. The old quartermaster Wungash really takes good care of me, it’s quite touching. He says I remind him of his nephew. If only it wasn’t for this unending waiting around. Waiting… for nothing to happen. At first it was still kind of fun, but after the first 9 hours that little bit of amusement quickly disappeared. Well, I got through another day. I wrote my report at the end of my shift and hit the sack right away.
Dear diary,
Everything is quiet at my post. My eyes are watering some. In this kind of work you easily fall into a monotonous stare that forces the last bit of fluid out of your eyes. I would love to re-sand the steps of the winding staircase that goes from the ballista platform down to the supply tunnel. The stonemason that built those stairs must have been cross-eyed. Possibly one of those amateurs from the Kosh hill country. Everything is crooked and skewed, and polished against the grain of the stone.
Dear diary,
Everything is quiet at my post. DAMMIT!!! What am I doing here, I’m a stone mason and not one of these sentinels! I can’t take sitting here on this ballista any longer. What I would like most is to stand up right now and go to eat in the mess hall. “A sentinel always has his finger on the trigger, son” Haha…what a load of drivel. I’ll simply say that I’m packing it in. Maybe I could just break my leg, or roll around in a patch of stinging toadstools. I have to get out of here! Angrosh protect me.
Dear diary,
Everything is quiet at my post. I’m slowly getting all bent and hunched over from constantly sitting at the ballista. Today after the midday meal Commanding Officer Nanosh came around during an inspection tour. “How’s it going, recruit!” He asks me how things are! … I answered “Nothing to report, General, sir, everything is quiet!”… and he went on to say “Good, carry on, recruit! We need people like you here!”. My heart suddenly felt very heavy… Angrosh, you are my only hope.
Dear diary,
All is quiet here at my post. I fired the ballista – I did see something over there …HAHA… yes, I saw something there… That thing made a really loud kaboom, I’m telling you. The bolt flew so far through the fog that I could not make out where it landed. The report says that the bowstring released because of poor maintenance.
Oh Angrosh be with me through damp, split crags and lead me in broad caves, so that I can may be aware of your name on bare ground as on rocky peaks.
Dear diary,
Wungash hasn’t said a word to me for the last week. He doesn’t put the food on the ballista anymore, but on the table at the entrance. But he always comes all the way over to me and shows me the plate with a flourish before he takes my food and puts it overon the table by the door. As I’m not allowed to leave my post, I consider myself luck if the ratbugs have left anything for me by the end of my shift. But I’ll show show that miserable rock goblin who he is dealing with, just wait. Angrosh shall be my inspiration.
Dear diary,
I have been able to put aside some of that slimy mushroom salad we’ve been served the last few days and put a good heap of it at the beginning of the winding staircase. What can I say, pride goeth before a fall. Wungash couldn’t pass up the chance to show me my meal with calculated malice. But he got the grin wiped off his face. Angrosh punishes the mockers, for when they taunt his children, they taunt him. I called for help right away, but we couldn’t see him down there anymore.
Dear diary,
Something is going on there! At the Grolm city. Oh Angrosh! I shouldn’t have fired the ballista. Early this morning gigantic monolkiths came from out of the darkness very slowly. They stayed just within sight, seeming to hover over the gorge. They were covered all over with glowing symbols. I immediately covered my face so that those magic symbols couldn’t bewitch me and triggered an alarm. The whole stronghold mobilized. The two smaller ballistas were manned right away. Furthermore, 50 well-equipped Dwarven shieldbearers were stationed at the platform down along the winding staircase. I was recalled away from the ballista and given the task of replenishing the ammunition supply. Nothing else happened the rest of the day. The eerie thing about it all was that there was no sound while those gigantic blocks of stone were moving, none. No sails or ropes creaking, no sound of a hoist moving or any other mechanisms! Only a barely audible, unpleasant hum. Maybe they’ll go away again in the face of our truly impressive display of brave, Angrosh-favored Dwarven shieldbearers.
Dear diary,
A week has gone by, and the monoliths are still there, standing completely still in the distance. What can they possibly want? The shift changes have become torture. The crowding on the narrow platform can hardly get worse. When one of those full armored, shieldbearing Dwarves tries to squeeze by a dozen or more others, then that causes a certain amount of discomfort. Especially when two or more troops met on the long winding staircase, one coming from the mess hall below and one from the top, you could see how frayed nerves are. It’s the waiting, the waiting for something, anything to happen…
1st day of battle
Angrosh help us! They started their assault today. It didn’t even take an hour for them to take over the platform. The ballistas caught it first. The winding staircase collapsed under the barrage, so that the lower part of the fort, which contained the supply room, was separated from the upper part. I’m no military expert, but the Grolms seemed to know exactly what they were doinged. I was to start walling up the passageways immediately. We could only hope that the bolted gates would hold long enough. And we succeeded. After that it appeared that the Grolms were not carrying out any further activities. Nanosh took advantage of the time and ordered barricades erected at all important strategic points. We worked with feverish haste all night long. Now I can get a little bit of a breather to write today’s events down in my diary. I have to get some sleep now, I have only a couple of hours, because the next attack is expected soon. .. Angrosh help us.
Dammit…I can’t sleep …
I can’t get those shapes and symbols out of my mind. It may be foolish, but I have to put this down on paper, now! Because I haven’t seen anything like it before. It started at the platform, as they bombarded us with larger-than-Dwarf-size squared stones. But not the same way you think of as with a catapult, no, the stones floated in a straight line, progressing slowly our way. At first we didn’t even notice them coming toward us. Those stones were not run-of-the mill rough quarry stone that is normally used, but precision-crafted geometric objects. Each side is adorned with outlandish symbols. Shortly before they reached us, the projectiles began to rotate on their own axes, turning faster and faster. Rotating relentlessly, they cut their way through the rampart walls, and what happened after that is beyond words. The projectiles’ rotating slowed to a standstill, and out of some of the triangular sides of these stones other geometric forms suddenly grew, which in turn separated from the main objects and changed into small cubes. And yet another cube emerged from their side surfaces. This chain of cubes then groped its way around the room like an arm, whose limbs are being carried by an invisible strap, and in the end anchored itself to the floor, wall or ceiling. Eerie is all I can say.
Apart from the damage to the stairs, walls and floors, this “thing” was not the real problem. We ourselves were the problem! Suddenly I saw how some from our ranks swung their crossbows around, aimed at their neighbors and shot the bolts, it was horrifying. Brother turned on brother. We weren’t fighting our enemies, but against each other. All at once I saw how Commanding Officer Nanosh was standing stock still, staring at the ceiling directly above me. Following his gaze I saw them, small scrawny little humanoids with pallid skin. They weren’t carrying any weapons, nor making any hectic gestures, they were not even moving, but only staring fixedly at us with their big eyes. Just as I could make out the five figures through the hole in the ceiling, one of them fixed his gaze on me. I wanted to turn away, but I couldn’t. Suddenly a red hot rage pulsed through my veins. At that moment Nanosh snapped out of his daze, I was told later, and ordered everyone to aim their crossbows at other targets. The next moment five bolt-skewered Grolm corpses fell at my feet. Suddenly the nightmare was over, but it still took a few moments before some of the possessed Dwarves shook off the enchantment. It was one of those evil mind control spells that had put us in a very difficult situation. Just then a new wave of enemies stepped up to the hole in the ceiling. Nanosh yelled retreat, retreat! We stumbled hastily to the passageway and slammed the doors behind us. It’s time for my shift again, may Angrosh guide me.
6th day of battle:
The stone barricades have been destroyed! No, they just melted away. All at once the cubes with their garish, glowing yellow symbols slowly started penetrating the outer walls. They emerged through the rock like air bubbles in a boggy swamp. First one, then two, three, until finally the entire barricade was covered with them. The whole process didn’t happen to take place with a lot of noise as you would expect, no! Soundlessly – the cubes took their positions at the wall in complete silence. Then nothing happened, no movement, not a sound. The intimidated sentinels withdrew deeper into the passage and dug themselves in at the entrance of the stairwell. An hour passed, then the symbols on the cubes began to pulsate. We prepared ourselves for an explosion, something akin to a fireball, or a discharge similar to a lightning spell. But nothing of the kind happened. The rotating cubes simply floated upward like a canopy being pulled by a ghostly hand. The barricade had disappeared, as if the stone had been siphoned off by the cubes. There was no time to think about how this witchcraft worked. For in the passage across from us were 2 dozen Grolms. This time they seemed not to be depending solely on their witchcraft. They wore light armor, but every one of them was carrying a weapon, each being more outlandish than the next. Naked hatred burned in their eyes, as if our people had been sworn enemies for centuries. They threw themselves at us as if driven by the fury of bloodlust. Always outnumbering us, and two of them would clutch one of us while a third went at him with a weapon. They didn’t seem to feel pain, at least not at first. Then after a few minutes their aggression seemed to melt away and they beat a hasty retreat with a hue and cry. But it didn’t take long before the ones who had fled before would throw themselves back into the thick of the battle. It was a constant back and forth; we would just manage to beat them back when they advanced again, no matter how severely our axes and bolts had already wounded them. In the end we were driven back further and further today. However they were not able to get past the barricade with the ballista.
8th day of battle
They have also overrun the barricade at the cistern. We are forced to pull back more and more. More than half of our men are wounded. We’ve finished off a third of them. We are exhausted. The Grolms’ constant attacks have already worn us down in this short period of time. I’m no hero, I can’t stop them. We aren’t any match for their fanatic quest to annihilate us… I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, if I’m going to die or if Angosh has other plans for his servant, but there is one thing I do know! Even if I’m no warrior and can’t stop them with my axe, I must do everything I can to prevent these warlocks from going beyond this point. They may capture this stronghold. But they must be stopped here. Because if they manage to reach the tunnel to Murolosh and go beyond it, then the Dwarven Kingdom would be in serious danger. Our brothers wouldn’t be equal to a surprise attack of this magnitude. There is only one chance: The mountain must help us to entomb them here. Angosh protect us.
