“Are you ready, Maker Dwini?”
Daco Dwini opened his eyes. The cart had jostled to a stop, they must have had arrived. He lifted his short, bulky frame up slightly and pulled back the canvas cover. The elven pillowhouse was right in front of them. They had gotten this far, success was close. Daco turned his squat head to view the dwarf who had spoken.
“I am ready, Maker Katzor. We are all ready.”
The four other dwarves grunted in agreement. They all wore the thick brown wool robes with large hoods and Daco was already sweating from the four hour ride in the rickety cart. The colossal amount of gear strapped to him underneath the robe was causing him to overheat severely. Sweat dampened the rest of the dwarves as well. Daco clawed at the itchy robe, nicking the brooch that signified he was a member of the halfing merchant Peninsula Trading Company. One his companions were twisting something in the back of cart, causing a faintly audible clacking sound. Daco tried to shift the massive warhammer strapped to his back to the side, easing the pain in his posterior.
“We are ready, Descendants. Let us go forth.”
Daco nodded and he dropped the wagon tailgate. It clanged against the large merchant wagon as Daco tried to jump out. Almost falling over as he did, he quickly straightened up and helped down the other five. The cobblestone street was fairly full with delicate elven carriages and human traveling vans. A group of halfing children ran down a sidewalk, laughing. On their side of the street the pillowhouse loomed, opulent and decadent in the advertisement of what it offered. If the information had been right, their timing would be perfect. Daco prayed that it was.
The six dwarves moved quickly across the street, toddling in their burden. The extravagantly decorated door of the pillowhouse opened with a slight push and the six went in. Daco quickly surveyed the lobby from deep underneath his hood. There were two elves in the lobby, a male standing next to a door in a fancy suit and a beautiful female behind the counter in a sheer silken gown that offered no concealment. She smiled at the six.
“Welcome, my little masters. The House of Lilali is always a friend of halfings from the Trading Company. Are you wanting special services or do you want to join the floor?”
Next to Daco, Maker Baener moved with sudden speed and a small ax whirled from his robes. It split the female’s head in neatly from her forehead down to her nose, drenching the gown in blood. The male elf managed a slight cry of surprise as a second ax caught him near his left eye, ripping a massive trench. The four others bolted to the doors, quickly tying intricate knots with the strong braided rope they had brought. Daco had already vaulted the counter and was dragging the female into a cuboared. She gasped for a moment, the axe hadn’t sunk deep enough, and Daco twisted her neck. Baener bumped up against him as he shoved the male’s body underneath the counter.
“Sealed,” a dwarf called low as the doors were locked.
One of the dwarves grunted as the other three moved towards the large round door the male had been standing to previously. Daco scanned the small lobby again as the dwarves put back on their hoods. He nodded at Maker Katzor. So far, so good. The alarm hadn’t been raised. Katzor pushed open the round door and waddled into the next room, Daco close behind.
The room was circular and very large, with purple and gold colors and intricate designs on the walls and ceilings. The middle of the room was sunken down and filled with massive, ornate pillows. And many, many naked bodies. It was a writhing mass of flesh and cries and heaving. The air was thick with the smell of bodies and elven drugs. Around the room were tables and chairs and nude beings sat and smoked long pipes. It was mostly elves in the room, with the occasional human and halfing thrown in. Most disregarded the robed figures as they spread themselves around the perimeter of the room, too involved or high or drunk to notice that more had joined. Somewhere, elf maidens were playing flute and harps and two human females in collars and leather were moving about with platters of alcohol.
Daco was filled with a sense of joy as he gazed at the scene. There were more here than they had dared hoped. Across the room, Katzor made a motion and the dwarves reached into their robes and made small adjustments. A slight ticking could be heard, almost in unison, from each dwarf. Daco breathed in heavily, tasting the elven decadent and folly. He viewed their revelry, their utter hedonism with hatred. A raging fire burned deep within him. These are the ones who murdered my people, my ancestors. Who destroyed what was ours. These are the enemy. He closed his eyes and chanted a prayer, his hands within the robe gripping at tools and weapons. The moment was close.
Everything slowed for a moment and Daco was aware of everything. Of the sweat on a human male’s back as he grappled with elven female. Of the taste of the burning crystals of the elven drugs. Of the slave girls enduring jeers and advances as they served their drinks. Of the noise, the waste. He was aware of everything, could smell everything, hear everything. The six dwarves stood on the brink, enjoying the moment before they slipped into the abyss.
Katzor fired first. His dwarven powder pistol roared and deafened in the room. A elf standing in the center of the room collapsed as a hole was torn into him, splaying blood over several human males and an elven female. No one screamed, not yet. The shock was still settling in. It was when Garathat buried his ax deep into a human as he did the same thing to a elf that the screams started. Daco’s robe fell to the floor, revealing the weapons and implements strapped to his body and legs. He whirled the massive goblin blunderbuss off of his shoulder and aimed it into the deepest mass of bodies in the room. It belched fire and smoke as dozens of bullets ripped and tore.
The blunderbuss was hurled aside as he shrugged the warhammer into his hands. An elven male scrambling out of the pit caught his first blow, skull and brains mixing together into a gory shower. Another elf got hit in the stomach and vomited blood. A female was struck in the back, bones poking and snapping from skin. Baener’s twin pistols burped, one after another, as the two slave girls screamed and sunk as bloody stumps. Harkner hurled an ax and a human tried to pull it from his shoulder before he was cut down by Thadfurt. An elven female was behead as she rose from the ground, a human’s skull was split open by a dwarven bullet. Intestines and blood coated the floor. Screaming and crying individuals fell in their haste to avoid the massacre.
The music had been replaced by a different sound, a sound of death and anguish. The six dwarves were cutting a bloody circle around the orgy pit, moving steadily inwards. One or two managed to escape the encroaching ring but were quickly cut down by dwarven powder and goblin guncotton. Daco was soaked now in blood and entrails but he kept his destruction moving forward. He cut a swath of death through the naked bodies, now clothed in red. The ticking was getting louder and faster now. Some dropped to their knees and begged and were beheaded. Others tried to fight and were ripped apart. Some cried and cowered and were shot. There was no mercy, only cold hard killing machines.
Daco started to chant as the ticking become more frenzied. “We are the Iron Arm, the Iron Arm that shields, the Iron Arm that serves.”
Katzor had joined him now, his voice growing louder. “The Iron Arm does not break, The Iron Arm does not hesitate.”
Baener’s voice leaped in as the dwarves continued their attack on the trapped, seeming more like farmers with sickles at harvest then dwarves with axes at revenge. “We are the Iron Arm. For that which is dead. Can never die.”
They all were saying it now, the ticking reaching its zenith. Daco buried the warhammer into an elf and let go, raising his hands to the roof and closing his eyes.
“For that which is melted,” Daco whispered as the ticking suddenly stopped. “Is forever.”
The six dwarves exploded.
The goal of this achievement is to develop an important person in your character's life. This person can be a mother, father, a mentor, a good friend, a friendly tavernkeep. It must be someone that contribute meaningfully to the development of your character. To gain all the XP points that come with this, name the person and describe them. Give them a physical description, describe where they came from and why. What is their purpose in life? Why did they contribute to your character's life? Are they still alive? Are your character and the person still in contact? How would your character react if they saw them now?
The goal of this achievement is to develop an organization based in Greater Tamara (the main continent). It could be a guild, a society for the wealthy, a monastic order or a brotherhood of knights. Explain what the groups' alignment is and where they come from. What is their history? Why were they formed? What do they do now? How do you join the group? Who would join the group? What benefits are there to joining? What is their purpose? How do they interact with others, friendly or hostile to their purpose? Where do they fit into the world?