The One Dwarf Army, A Mini-Story from the Ironchapel sucession game.

The source of the following post is this succession fortress post. As the founder of Ironchapel the battle caught my attention, and inspired a vivid description of the following war. The save I started from is in the linked post for those who want to experience what we experience. (Warning: Graphic)

Our story centers around the first Hammer Lord of Ironchapel, the legendary dwarf Mestthos Zessodom, the Drum of Pantomimes. We are not starting at the beginning of the legend, but at the turning point of the First Necromancer Invasion. No less than 5 of the Masters of Life and Death swept down upon Ironchapel with over 100 undead swarming over the land in front of them. The beginnings of the war are shrouded in the mists of time, their records destroyed in the chaos and death of the initial onslaught. It is said that of the 18 soldiers and two Hammer Lords that trained in the fortress, only 1 survived. That one is Mestthos Zessodom.

We begin our story with Mestthos outnumbered 100 to one, and currently facing off against a group of 5 zombies. At this point in the battle he is purported to have over 150 kills to his name, and will more than double that before the battle is over.

The following writings have been pulled from halls of Ironchapel:

"... It is said that war is a chaotic and distressing event, but...this was not war. This was Death coming for our fortress. Those of us who were cut off from the gates were slowly being pulled down and torn apart, only to be raised again to pursue their former friends.

I had resigned myself to death when I saw for of them coming for me, I was a simple weaver, no match for a group of zombies. I think I fell into some kind of trance at that point. I ran, of course, but they were faster. Corpses with caved-in skulls and missing arms coming for us. I remember the one that got closest, the body of a dwarf whose chest had been torn completely open, but only scraps of entrails remained inside. Lungs, heart, stomach, all of them gone, torn out and left to rot on the battlefield somewhere. But it was still running...running so fast for me...

The next thing I remember is the blood. I knew it wasn't mine somehow, but I still checked to make sure I wasn't injured. I few scratches and bruises, but nothing life threatening. The four zombies that had been chasing me were dead, along with so many others... All around, us dozens of corpses. I ran for the fortress, trying not to step in any of the puddles of gore that littered the battlefield. The corpses all bore the telltale marks of skilled hammer strikes, specifically they were all mutilated almost beyond recognition..."

--Aban Nomaltenshed, Weaver

EDIT: Added account of 'Questionquality' the resident Record Keeper. (Also tell me how you guys like the first person accounts of the battle. I was stumped as to how to describe this massive fight otherwise. Suggestions/critiques welcome.)

"... I remember going outside once during the Invasion, it all comes back to my as clear as Crystal Glass. It was just after the capture of the first Necromancer. Armok only knows how he managed to slip past everyone and breach our defenses...but the cage traps got him at the last second.

I can tell you it is a strange thing to be asked to go and count the bodies of the fallen. I knew I would have to perform such duties, in the barren wastes of Ironchapel it was unavoidable. But to be forced take note of such gruesome corpses again and again...and to see them rise again before you is a terror I never thought I would know. Dogs that had been torn limb from limb would wriggle back into life to slowly chase their brothers and sisters. And the limbs, bloody stumps of arms and legs that had been shattered and sent flying would pull themselves along after their body. One managed to get so close and to scratch my foot through my Pig Tail Fiber Shoes before I kicked it away.... "

-- 'questionquality' Adilkubuk, Record Keeper and Mayor