The Dwarven Empire.
As a world-renowned gathering place for dwarves, few factions were foolish enough to harass or attack this place.
Thus, throughout countless years past, this empire built by dwarves didn't even have a proper city wall.
Densely packed stone houses were casually piled at the foot of the San Pedro Mountains. Black smoke from smelting ore gathered year-round in the skies above, making it look like a dark, crowded slum from afar.
However, not long ago, all of this changed.
To defend against the surging mutant beast tide pouring out of the Underdark, the dwarves did the unprecedented and built defensive fortifications.
Using leftover slag, rocks, soil, and a vast amount of cheap, newly mined ore, they constructed a circular wall, backing against the San Pedro Mountains to seal themselves inside.
...
On the city wall, numerous iron-clad dwarves moved back and forth in groups of two or three along the slag-built battlements. They hurriedly carried the bizarrely shaped corpses of mutated creatures to designated spots before tossing them over the side.
They threw them into the “burning sea of corpses” below, which had been ignited by the mutant carcasses and had been burning all morning.
Fed with fresh “fuel,” the flames consuming the mountain of corpses surged violently, tongues of fire licking the sky.
The intense heat generated by the roaring fire had even partially melted the ore on the wall's surface.
Grey Ironforge, the dwarf responsible for supervising the clearing of mutant corpses in this sector, was currently leaning listlessly against the parapet.
His silver-white iron armor reflected an orange-red glow under the baking heat of the soaring flames.
He reached out, holding a cigar between his fingers toward the rising fire.
The cigar quickly caught fire, emitting a peculiar aroma.
Grey withdrew his hand, placed the end of the cigar in his mouth, and took a deep drag.
The next moment, white smoke billowed from his nostrils, ears, and mouth.
Though it should have been highly relaxing, Grey lowered his head in loneliness, his brown eyes filled with exhaustion.
“Old friend, tell me, when will these days finally come to an end?”
As he spoke, he looked in the direction of the Ersencielo River.
Illuminated by the firelight, the wrinkles on his forehead bunched up, and his long-unkept beard reflected a greasy, glistening sheen.
“If not for this damn mutation calamity, you wouldn't have left me...”
“I miss you so much... Bronzebeard...”
His voice rose a few pitches.
“I miss your warm, passionate heart... so much!”
As soon as he finished speaking, a somber, desolate atmosphere settled over the wall.
The dwarves carrying mutant corpses past Grey couldn't help but lower their heads in empathy, slowing their steps to avoid disturbing this “grief-stricken man.”
The dwarves guarding this section of the wall had grown somewhat accustomed to this captain, who had only been temporarily reassigned here a few days ago.
Every day, Captain Grey would lean against the wall with a sorrowful expression and spout incomprehensible nonsense.
In their eyes, Captain Grey's partner, a dwarf named Bronzebeard, had probably met a tragic end during the mutant beast tide's invasion...
“Goddammit! Grey, screw you and your hammer!”
A sudden roar erupted from the south side of the wall. Grey jolted in fright, and the cigar slipped from his fingers with a soft plop, falling over the edge and into the blazing pile of corpses.
Yet, not a single dwarf present cared about that high-end cigar, which had been imported at a premium from the Kingdom of Loran.
Instead, all of their eyes snapped to a single direction. There, a dwarf whose shoulders were nearly as wide as his waist, also clad in iron armor, was marching over with heavy, furious steps, clutching a warhammer larger than a human head.
As he walked, he cursed loudly, “Just because I got reassigned to a different wall, you go around slandering me every single day, claiming I'm dead!”
“Screw you and your hammer! Because of you, my wife thought I actually died and ran off with Copperhammer next door overnight!”
Bronzebeard grew angrier as he spoke, his voice booming louder and louder. With a surge of strength, he hurled the hammer straight at Grey.
Whoosh!
Grey lunged to the side to dodge the incoming hammer, an embarrassed look on his face. He wanted to explain, but before he could even turn around, he caught sight of a shadow pouncing toward him out of the corner of his eye.
Thud!
Grey was tackled to the ground. Bronzebeard pinned him down, wrapping his hands tightly around Grey's neck, the veins on his face bulging. “Screw you and your hammer! You've made it so I can't even enter my own house now!”
“My neighbors—every single one of them—point at me and say I've turned into an undead corpse!”
“Urgh...” Grey gasped for air as he was choked. Grabbing Bronzebeard's wrists, his face flushed bright red as he gritted his teeth and wheezed out, “W-Wasn't I... just missing you?”
“Missing me?!” Bronzebeard snarled, his face also turning red from exertion. “I think you just want me dead sooner!”
With that, Bronzebeard began ripping at Grey's armor. “Screw you and your hammer! Today, I'm going to grab you by the beard and beat you until you beg for mercy on your knees!”
These words immediately drew the attention of all the dwarves guarding the wall and transporting corpses.
They immediately stopped what they were doing and sat in a neat row, completely focused and waiting for the live show. A few of the more enterprising dwarves even pulled out recording stones, planning to tape the scene so they could secretly enjoy it later when they felt lonely and cold.
Clang!
Clang!
Cla—
Piece after piece of iron armor was forcibly stripped from Grey by Bronzebeard and tossed aside, clattering sharply against the stone.
This elicited frequent cheers from the spectating dwarves.
The scene was, for a moment... extremely chaotic.
Whoosh!
Just then, a sudden, violent gale swept over them.
The wind blew so hard that the onlookers couldn't even open their eyes. When they finally did, they discovered three figures had appeared on the wall out of nowhere.
One was a silver-haired elf of feminine appearance, collapsed on the ground and vomiting uncontrollably.
Another was a figure clad in black armor with a strange greatsword strapped to their back, their face completely obscured.
And the last was a human woman dressed in a white robe, her long black hair falling to her waist.
“...?” Irene's gaze focused on Grey, whose armor was half-stripped to reveal a thick mat of chest hair, and then shifted to Bronzebeard, who was currently pinning him down with a dazed expression.
Feeling as though she had seen these two guys—who looked like they were holding an outdoor orgy—somewhere before, she hesitated for half a second before asking, “Should I... give you two some privacy?”
“No! No need!”
Grey hurriedly seized the opportunity to push Bronzebeard off of him. He stood up and adjusted his pants with a calm, breezy expression, acting as if nothing had happened. He then thumped his hairy chest twice and offered an awkward laugh. “Haha, Your Grace Irene, it's been over half a century since we last met, yet you are still as youthful as ever...”
“There's no need for pleasantries,” Irene said, forcing herself to block out the eye-searing scene she had just witnessed. She raised a hand, making a stop gesture. “I've come to see your king. It concerns the Mutant Matriarch, and I don't want to waste time.”
At the mention of the Mutant Matriarch, the expression on Grey's face instantly froze before turning dead serious. “Understood. I'll go call for him right away.”
Rate on N.U.
