Tholbom's Stand

The caravan from the Mountainhomes had come, carrying weapons and armour, as our broker had requested last fall. Now, as the merchants approached laden with valuable trade good, was the time when goblins and other vile creatures most often attacked, so our warriors were readied and patrols were sent out, hunting for ambushers. But the wagons rolled past the double moats and the half-built towers, finding our depot without difficulty. Cooks and carpenters alike set to work, hauling the famed goods of our master artisan, "Wealthmaker" Tekkud, to be traded to the dwarven merchants.

Then the goblins attacked - making no pretense at stealth. They appeared all along our borders, mounted on hideous beak dogs, carrying swords and axes and cross-bows. Three groups of ten they were, in all - two attacking from the west, one from the east - and at their head was the dread Mace-Lord Kuthnik Bonesmasher, armor decorated with bones.

Our leader gave the orders - raise the drawbridges! Call in the levies! Channel the goblin scum - let them be forced to march through every trap, let them march past our marksdwarves while bolts winnowed their ranks like hay! Let them fall! Newly recruited fishers and woodcutters ran to the armory to prepare themselves before battle began, while the old guard were sent to the bridges, to hold them until the recruits arrived. Gears creaked into motion, and bridges creaked upwards, sealing off the rear entrances to the fort. The front (western) bridge would be lifted as the goblins attacked - hopefully, splitting their forces and leaving the remainder to die.

It didn't work out that way.

The eastern group of goblins, armed one and all with axes, were crippled by cross-bow fire, unable to retaliate across the wide moat. Beak dogs screamed hideously as bolts pierced their flesh and goblins shouted shrill yells of defiance - to no avail. Marching to the north to reach the front entrance, half their number fell, and they were forced into retreat, broken.

But the battle to the west went far worse - for their stood both the crossbow goblins and their terrible leader Kuthnik Bonesmasher. The bridge rose, but too late - only after all of the sword-goblins had already crossed. Many of Kuthnik's followers died to traps, crushed by stones or chopped to pieces by hidden blades. Kuthnik himself was cast down by the death of his beak dog mount, and lay before the now-raised bridge, calling for our defenders to fight him.

They did - and there's the rub. For the crossbow goblins still lurked, just outside the moat, and now volleyed bolts at any man who dared cross the no-man's-land between safety and the still-living Kuthnik. Dwarf after dwarf rushed forward to face Kuthnik in single combat. Most were slain by bolts, and the remainder were slain by blows from Kuthnik himself, still terribly strong despite his deathly wounds. At last he fell - but still dwarves rushed out, seeking to aid the wounded, and themselves fell to join them. The crossbow goblins retreated in the end after depleting their quivers, leaving one wounded unfortunate behind (who was shortly skewered by some of the remaining old guard), but the carnage left behind was incredible. We could not call it a triumph.

In all, somewhat less than twenty goblins died - all of the sword goblins, one of the crossbow goblins, and most of the axe goblins. We lost twenty good dwarves - all of our fishers, hunters, and most of our carpenters and masons, among others - and recovered roughly a quarter of that number, to recover agonizingly slowly (if ever) over the next few years. Our fort's population dropped from eighty to sixty.

Our leader was deposed.

(due credit again)