The Hammer of Kruul was the project a long-dead insane overseer took upon himself to build. It was not meant to save anyone, but rather act as a deterrent. The fortress had been besieged multiple times by armies of goblins, trolls, and cave dragons who all wished to plunder the riches that lay deep underground. There were rumours even of a dragon that the dwarves kept locked up in their dungeon somewhere, guarding mounds of gold coins and gems, but those horrors would not deter the sieging armies. The insane overseer then decided to himself that if the fortress would ever be taken, then he would make sure that the conquerors would die, and be left with smouldering ruins. So he built the Hammer of Kruul, a massive spire held by iron and steel supports, topped with a microcline "hammerhead". When activated, the spire would collapse, and be driven through the fortress as a stake through a man's heart, destroying all structures within, crushing any unfortunate soul caught under the tons of collapsing stone.
But years passed, and the Hammer of Kruul was mostly ignored, then forgotten, as the fortress prospered. The military trained, and fields of deadly traps were laid out, and while sieges would not stop, they would time and time again break themselves against the massive defences of the fortress. A generation of farmers were born under the shade of the weapon, knowing its power but never once fearing it. It was believed that it would never be activated, or that if activated it would be only once every other dwarf lay dead.
The watchdwarf on duty watched the rangers head back into the fortress before turning his attention to the woods. All his other watchdwarves colleagues had decided to call it a day, nominating him to stand alone while they went to grab a drink of rum. His eyes were droopy, and not for the first time he imagined himself being gored by a roaring minotaur, rushing him from out of the shadows. Only when the pain began to register did he realize he would die, as the minotaur, roaring, tore off one of his arms and shoved the limb down the dwarf's throat. A nearby woodcutter saw the horrid display, and blew his horn, alerting the rest of the fortress.
The fortress army was mobilized, and levers were thrown, beginning the lengthy mechanical process of raising the drawbridge. The military rushed through the hallways as each dwarf blew their alarm horn, as they were taught to do in an emergency. By the time the guardsdwarves reached the courtyard, the minotaur was standing on the drawbridge, eager to shed dwarven blood.
One thing a reader must know about dwarven engineering, however, is that while there may be a delay between a lever being pulled and a bridge being raised, the effects are usually extremely efficient, rapid, and occasionally violent. The drawbridge shot up into the air, raising with extreme speed and power, catapulting the startled minotaur through the air. The soldiers watched the creature fly through the air, higher and higher, until they lost sight of the beast. Baffled and panicking, they searched the grounds for one they called a megabeast, until one recruit spotted the beast - stranded high atom the Hammer of Kruul. The drawbridge had launched the monster hundreds of meters into the air, where he came to rest relatively unharmed upon the doomsday weapon. Once they were certain that the creature would remain trapped there, relatively harmless, the soldiers gave the signal, alert levels were dropped, and the fortress resumed its daily duties.
The current overseer, at the time, saw a slowly growing problem, however. The megabeast seemed to command a terrifying presence, and despite it being trapped, the farmers, woodcutters, and rangers would all be unwilling to leave the fortress, claiming a profound terror of the minotaur. While there was no real danger, the dwarves were, for all intents and purposes, trapped and entombed. As such, farms grew dry and dead, and the stockpiles would slowly run out. Emergency farms were attempted within the fortress in order to keep some food production going while the overseer came up with a solution, but they all failed to yield edible crops.
Twelve long years passed. Many dwarves were stricken with melancholy, as all efforts at reaching a new source of food or water failed. Underground caves, said to be able to yield crops, could not be found in time, and eventually the food stores ran out, mercifully before the numbing alcohol stores could be depleted. The current mayor, successor to the one who oversaw the fort's doom, was faced with a terrible choice. She could activate the Hammer of Kruul, thus killing the raging minotaur (how it remained alive without food or water was a mystery attributed to the cruelest of devils) and allowing the remaining farmers access to the outside world, where they might hope to rebuild the fortress. However, doing so would trap all but a few dwarves, dooming those who would not be crushed by the weapon's activation.
The mayor ordered a room dug out on the top level, and commanded five farmers, a stonemason, and a carpenter to seek shelter within - they would be spared the coming horror, and would be able to rebuild the fortress, possibly even save whichever survivor might remain. The door to their improvised bunker was locked, and after verifying that her plan would succeed, the mayor ordered the doomsday level pulled.
The Hammer of Kruul came crashing down. Many dwarves were instantly crushed to nothing when the tons of rock and debris fell on them, while dust and shards of stone and wood would choke and shred some close enough to the point of impact.
Those were the lucky ones.
The remaining underground dwarves were trapped, most dying of hunger in the coming weeks. In a cruel twist of fate, the immortal minotaur survived the weapon's activation, and landed on the second-to-deepest floor. Unharmed, it mauled the surviving dwarves of that level.
The dust settled, and the ground stopped shaking, and the surviving 7 dwarves, the lucky ones who were allowed respite from the apocalyptic collapse of their doomsday weapon, opened their doors. On the other side was a solid wall of microcline. The rocky "hammerhead" of the weapon had partially broken off during its activation, creating a wall of solid, dense rock between the survivors and freedom. Without a miner and a pickaxe to dig through, they were entombed.
Thus ends the story of that fortress, its name forgotten, the hilly and forested landscape around it slowly erased from maps and minds. The wood of its protective walls would rot over time, collapsing them, and wandering travellers would soon never even suspect that there had ever been anything of note there. But its legend would go on, spoken of around campfires and alluded to in songs.
The immortal minotaur presumably still roams the buried hallways of that doomed place.
One thing a reader must know about dwarven engineering, however, is that while there may be a delay between a lever being pulled and a bridge being raised, the effects are usually extremely efficient, rapid, and occasionally violent. The drawbridge shot up into the air, raising with extreme speed and power, catapulting the startled minotaur through the air. The soldiers watched the creature fly through the air, higher and higher, until they lost sight of the beast. Baffled and panicking, they searched the grounds for one they called a megabeast, until one recruit spotted the beast - stranded high atom the Hammer of Kruul. The drawbridge had launched the monster hundreds of meters into the air, where he came to rest relatively unharmed upon the doomsday weapon. Once they were certain that the creature would remain trapped there, relatively harmless, the soldiers gave the signal, alert levels were dropped, and the fortress resumed its daily duties.
The current overseer, at the time, saw a slowly growing problem, however. The megabeast seemed to command a terrifying presence, and despite it being trapped, the farmers, woodcutters, and rangers would all be unwilling to leave the fortress, claiming a profound terror of the minotaur. While there was no real danger, the dwarves were, for all intents and purposes, trapped and entombed. As such, farms grew dry and dead, and the stockpiles would slowly run out. Emergency farms were attempted within the fortress in order to keep some food production going while the overseer came up with a solution, but they all failed to yield edible crops.
Twelve long years passed. Many dwarves were stricken with melancholy, as all efforts at reaching a new source of food or water failed. Underground caves, said to be able to yield crops, could not be found in time, and eventually the food stores ran out, mercifully before the numbing alcohol stores could be depleted. The current mayor, successor to the one who oversaw the fort's doom, was faced with a terrible choice. She could activate the Hammer of Kruul, thus killing the raging minotaur (how it remained alive without food or water was a mystery attributed to the cruelest of devils) and allowing the remaining farmers access to the outside world, where they might hope to rebuild the fortress. However, doing so would trap all but a few dwarves, dooming those who would not be crushed by the weapon's activation.
The mayor ordered a room dug out on the top level, and commanded five farmers, a stonemason, and a carpenter to seek shelter within - they would be spared the coming horror, and would be able to rebuild the fortress, possibly even save whichever survivor might remain. The door to their improvised bunker was locked, and after verifying that her plan would succeed, the mayor ordered the doomsday level pulled.
The Hammer of Kruul came crashing down. Many dwarves were instantly crushed to nothing when the tons of rock and debris fell on them, while dust and shards of stone and wood would choke and shred some close enough to the point of impact.
Those were the lucky ones.
The remaining underground dwarves were trapped, most dying of hunger in the coming weeks. In a cruel twist of fate, the immortal minotaur survived the weapon's activation, and landed on the second-to-deepest floor. Unharmed, it mauled the surviving dwarves of that level.
The dust settled, and the ground stopped shaking, and the surviving 7 dwarves, the lucky ones who were allowed respite from the apocalyptic collapse of their doomsday weapon, opened their doors. On the other side was a solid wall of microcline. The rocky "hammerhead" of the weapon had partially broken off during its activation, creating a wall of solid, dense rock between the survivors and freedom. Without a miner and a pickaxe to dig through, they were entombed.
Thus ends the story of that fortress, its name forgotten, the hilly and forested landscape around it slowly erased from maps and minds. The wood of its protective walls would rot over time, collapsing them, and wandering travellers would soon never even suspect that there had ever been anything of note there. But its legend would go on, spoken of around campfires and alluded to in songs.
The immortal minotaur presumably still roams the buried hallways of that doomed place.
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