Ducimmonag 2 - The Long Siege

 Obsidian, Year 250

    All of us have been so preoccupied with the invaders besieging us that I have neglected my duties as fortress record keeper. Once the alarm was raised I immediately ordered that everyone retreat below ground and lock the doors to the main stairwell, thus preventing the invaders to gain entry. A farmer who had been hauling wood outside once they appeared informed of the nature of our enemies. Three human necromancers as well as six of their terrible necromantic creations are arrayed against us. The necromancers soon left, seemingly satisfied that their minions would be capable of dispatching us. And so we found ourselves facing the dark zombies, five of human origin and one dingowoman. The farmer claimed that they were covered in immense bulging muscles, had dark brown skin, and strange pure white hair. Each of them wields a copper crossbow or a longbow in the human style. Several dwarves who peeked through the cracks in our locked doors believe that after mercilessly slaughtering a peaceful giant beetle the invaders settled down, pacing in never-ending circles. 

    I count us lucky that we are assailed by only a small handful of pitiful zombies. Nevertheless we did not yet have a military, and so I immediately focused the fortresses efforts upon smelting the plentiful tetrahedrite ore found in the caverns.

    Soon we had a new squad, the Cobalt Tribes, with five new recruits each armed with a silver warhammer and a copper helm. With no time to mine out a proper barracks they set to work training in the caverns. While I would dearly like to through those abominable creatures from our soil as soon as possible I realize that we would risk the lives of our recruits if they were thrown into battle before being properly prepared.

    A month into their training a troll slipped through the guard of our monster hunters and was approaching the stairway to the fortress before it was quickly dispatched by our brave soldiers. If we can dispatch a fearsome cave troll with such ease I have no doubt those zombies will fall like rotting plump helmets before us. I will order the attack soon and detail it in my next installment to these records.

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Slate, Year 251

    

    Ilral will no longer write these records. I am the new expedition leader and I will take on this task. I am Ducem Taramtobul. I write this while lying on a blood-soaked bed in our makeshift dormitory turned emergency hospital. I can hardly move, my spine fractured and bruised, my leg and hands mangled. All because of our former expedition leaders foolish arrogance. If I, with my immense strength and presence had been in charge, perhaps things might have turned out differently. Still, I am glad I was not assigned to the cobalt tribes. Even this crippled state is better than certain death.

    The attack upon the invaders began inauspiciously as the militia commander could not be roused for some time, so deep was he in sleep.

    Finally he awoke and joined his four subordinates in the stairwell, waiting behind the locked doors to the outside. Then with a roar they charged heroically out into the sun which none of us has seen since the siege began. The dark zombies must have been expecting us, for the cobalt tribes charge was met by a withering hail of arrows, injuring Domas by bruising her leg and tearing her neck. Immediately the bulk of our forces converged on a single dark zombie crossbowman, perhaps overtaken by adrenaline, leaving only poor brave Tulon to engage the rest.

    

    The lone dark zombie crossbowman chased by our squad ran towards the fort, suffering only a few blows at the hands of our soldiers. Seeing that Tulon was isolated and in trouble Domas turned and ran to help her. Before he could reach her she was shot dead. Domas, enraged, continued to charge towards the main group of dark zombies, only to meet with the same fate as Tulon, torn to pieces by inhumanly powerful and accurate shots.

    

    Meanwhile the militia commander along with his two remaining soldiers were in hot pursuit of the dark zombie crossbowmen, following him back downwards into the fortress. Halfway down the stairwell the cobalt tribes managed to herd him into the small farming level, where a fierce melee broke out. One hammerdwarf as well as an unfortunate sow were killed. Somehow the crossbowman seemed even more dangerous in melee than at range. His inhuman muscles allowing him to strike with such strength that entire limbs would explode into gore. The soldiers did land some lucky hits upon him, but these failed to slow him down at all.

    Soon the fight had moved to the main fortress level and had spilled into the hall and stockpiles. Seeing the dwarves plight two human monster hunters, a pikeman and a lasher joined  in. Together they completely surrounded the dark zombie, but to no avail. His endurance and power seemed to have no end. It was not long before both remaining soldiers were killed.

    We would not learn this until after, but for some unknowable reason the dark zombies on the surface had elected to retreat, abandoning their comrade below. At this point that coward Ilral Roldethsolon began to frantically scream for everyone to retreat downwards to the cavern layer, but in the panic his orders were not heeded.

    

    The lasher and pikeman continued to valiantly attempt to hold back the monstrous undead creature, and for a moment it looked as if they might be able to succeed. However it was not long before each in turn was bashed to death by the cold, almost mechanically efficient creature. Ilral, realizing that if nothing was done we would all be killed by this rampaging monstrosity, shouted for the miners, Bomrek and Fikod, to attack. A pickax is better than bare fists after all. Bomrek headed his call and rushed in, only to be effortlessly struck down. Following this the dark zombie began advancing down the hallway to the other stockpiles. Ilral, fool that he was, was trapped down this direction, continuing to shriek hysterical, ineffectual orders. Fikod, attempting to save Ilral, rushed forwards. This also was to no avail, as both Ilral and Fikod were brutally massacred.

    Now all semblance of organization completely disintegrated. The dark zombie began to kill and destroy unchecked, tearing through the fortress. At this point I was wounded, although I was luckily able to crawl down the hallway to safety. A defenseless child was slain, along with two of the fortresses cats. By now I was the only one remaining on the main fortress level, and so the dark zombie charged down the stairways towards the others. Then, in a stroke of luck, it stumbled into a cage trap intended for the cavern creatures. With that a deathly silence fell upon the fortress. 11 of our number had been killed, along with three humans. Only nine of us remain, and three including myself are too badly injured to work. I wonder if we will ever recover.

    Momuz in particular is nearly comatose with grief. She won't even accept booze. I have half a mind to knock some sense into her. For some time the entirety of the fortresses remaining labor pool has been focused on putting the dead to rest and cleaning up the remains of the terrible battle. Once this is finished I will have much to do. I will not make the same mistakes as my predecessor. No, this will be a new chapter for Ducimmonag. The lean stakes will rise again under my glorious leadership, and we will pay those undead abominations back tenfold for every dwarven life they took.

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    I hope you enjoyed this installment of my fortress report for Ducimmonag, workdrilled. It's events like this that remind me that losing is fun! It's been quite a while since I've had such an exciting, shocking turn of events. Any suggestions or criticism are appreciated!