@Teadon86

5 years ago

Many years ago, almost a decade, I embarked in a temperate zone in the middle of a forest without an aquifer. An easy start, by any standards. Soon enough one of my hunter dwarves discovered a cave as she chased some animal into its mouth. Instead of ceasing the hunt the dwarf ran after the animal and a few steps inside she had to descend into the dark depths. I considered having her turn back to the fortress by assigning her to a burrow and then after she'd entered the fortress area I'd release her from her assignment to the burrow, allowing her to return to the hunt for another animal. I restrained myself and observed her mad dash into the bowels of the earth, knowing that she may stir !FUN! to visit the fortress. After fearlessly heading down a slope she emerged into a wide cavern, sprawling out in three directions she could observe mushrooms large as trees standing in shallow water, small dry patches of rock in this underground lake could be seen as well just as there were cliffs that fell several levels down into an unreachable section of this cavernous realm. When she moved towards one of the cliffs she noticed a large family of plump helmet men foraging about. Beyond this deeper level, at the higher level she'd at first entered, wildlife was sparse and avoidant of the huntress; a few purring maggots, cave swallows, one spider spreading its webs. The flora, however, were richer than the animal life. Lots of cave moss and floor fungus covered the rocky floor and inching towards the fungiwood. She explored parts of the area and didn't find anything to hunt. What became of the animal that ran down there was a mystery. As time went on I kept a watchful eye on the cavern entrance to see if anything emerged from the depths or if anyone decided to explore the area. No one did, except the occasional cat. Many years into this fortress, one day, a mother cat decided that she'd run down followed by her kittens. Leaving the light of the day behind them, they tentatively moved down into the cave system as the dwarves were completing a tiny entrenchment and barrack alongside the main road commonly used by elven and human merchants. It took some time for the cats to move into the larger cave but soon enough their paws were forcing through mud and water. Running between the fungiwood they hunted vermin and occasionally encountered larger docile wildlife — nothing to threaten the mother cat or her kittens. They moved through the cave forest and began exploring. A kitten made its way up an unexplored narrow path as the rest moved around the fungiwoods and back and forth into other tunnels. Revealing bit by bit of the tunnel it soon widened to a room, in this room there was a red patch. The kitten didn't hesitate to move past the red patch, neither did it care for the body parts of animals strewn on the cavern floor, it moved into another narrow path. It encountered something, something big, and more big things. Several big entities clustering together, hardly moving at all. The cat ran back returning the way it came, they ran after. Stampeding down narrow cave tunnels like a tidal wave crashing into a narrow bay! Meanwhile, the huntress who had discovered the cave system was slaying prey with iron and silver bolts with her masterwork crossbow made of cat bone and other materials — silver and a gem if I don't misremember its making. An expensive piece of weaponry used for hunting. As she hunted, the military was put on high alert and sent towards the entrance of the cave to save the straying mother cat and her kittens. She stalked around the cave. The cat and kittens burst forward into the light, dispersing into the wider forest like a hand holding sand opening up so the wind may take each grain. And then they emerged, a family of very angry Dralthas. The huntress fled! Knowing one thing to nothing about Dralthas I foolishly sighed in relief as I read that they're herbivores, thus they do not attack dwarves. I ordered my military to stand-by and observe the Dralthas. As they gathered, the Dralthas charged and tore every last soldier dwarf to pieces! One Draltha fought two hammer dwarves alone that were also very good wrestlers that belonged to a group of soldiers that once dodged their way into an army of elves to then toss them down cliffsides and into trees or just shatter them with their warhammers. These two warhammerers was backed by two other dwarves firing bolts wildly into the fray as they attempted to slay this Draltha. One of two dwarves moved closer to the Draltha to have his head kicked clean off. In the time it takes to draw breath the Draltha moved its' massive weight around and kicked again, twice. It landed both kicks on each of the dwarf's arms, tearing them free from the torso. It kicked again and again and again; each kick took another body part off; bolts thwacking into trees or taking flight into the air to never be seen again. It gave no mercy to the dwarf, who after losing his arms drifted in and out of consciousness, as it dismembered him to protect its family. The last kick was towards the head. A hindleg forced its way through teeth, sending them in a bloody arch, but the force was enough to also rip the head off its neck. The two other dwarves were quickly slain. About twenty soldiers lay butchered, only one Draltha was serious injured by several hits by bolts and falling over due to severe pain. The family of Dralthas slowly returned to their home in the depths, except that one Draltha who had slain four dwarves and earned a name for slaying two renown champions that did lay low an entire goblin army and helped a few elves to reconsider living by having them explode in a gory mess by slamming them into trees. That Draltha, for some reason, remained by its victims. Fearing another murderous rampage I, in desperation to save my fortress, recruited the huntress. I sent her on a mission of holy vengeance against the beast who'd humiliated a tiny culture that managed goblin invasions so well it could as well be a moth helplessly flapping its brittle wings in a playful kitten's mouth, and where elven armies were put in their place by rampaging wrestlers. With considerable slowness, she shuffled through the forest, stopping at random for reasons I couldn't fathom. I kept an eye on the Draltha. In a burst of activity, it charged at a seemingly random direction! Something thin flew past several trees and hit the Draltha. It stopped in its dash. It fell unconscious. It awoke and crawled one tile and then fell unconscious again. Then it died without a duel, it had unceremoniously bled to death. Relieved and amazed at what she managed to do I began reading the combat log, what it accounted for had me laughing. My laugh was not caused by the lucky strike of the silverbolt that pierced its heart but because that an infant tried to crawl away from the Draltha but its mother refused its' escape. Without knowing it I had sent a mother and her infant child in a suicide mission to kill this beast. The family of cats had returned to haunt the stockpiles beneath the fortress. And that is the story of how my fortress was saved by a mother exceptionally skilled using her crossbow made by cat bone.

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