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December 18, 493
Today we lost another scout over in the fourth northern gallery. The damned Orcs seem to come out of the walls! If this goes on much longer we’re going to have to make a standing order that no-one goes anywhere alone, not even to relieve themselves. Kjell Bjornsson was distraught to lose another man, especially so close to Yule; I offered to write the letter to the family myself, but he insisted. He’s a good captain, but new enough that he is not yet hardened to losing people under his command; I have asked Modolfr to keep a discreet eye on him. At least no more Orcs have been seen on the top four levels for over a week now; I think I can allow myself to assume that sealing off those far air-shafts has finally cut off any access they may have had to the upper levels. I must remember to check tomorrow that all preparations and watch rotas are sorted for the Yule celebrations. It’ll be difficult to make sure each man gets enough time off to actually celebrate properly, but I suppose we’ll manage somehow. Have to keep an eye on the drinking, too. If those Berserkers drink anything like the way they fight, it’s going to be an interesting Yule; yesterday I saw one of the Sigvatrsson Berserkers cut an Orc literally in two with that great-axe of his. Most impressive. Birna has brought Magga and little Erik down to some temporary lodgings in the Jarl’s Hall in Odinsheim, courtesy of Oystein. Nice of the Human to have thought to do that; at least now I’ll be able to see her and the little ones on Mother’s Night. The messenger who came today said that Erik’s cold is clearing up, which is good. One of the dogs bit Magga, which will if nothing else teach her not to throw her toys at a dog. Bir assures me she is alright really, and is secretly proud of the scar she’s going to have. January 3, 494 I know what Azag is doing. He’s just making sure we pay as dearly as possible for every metre we advance, since he knows he cannot now get out as we have driven him down too deep for anyone except Dwarven miners to be able to dig their way out to open ground. I relieved the scouts I had left posted above ground of their duties three nights ago, it seems pointless to leave the poor sods shivering out there looking for signs of Orcs escaping by some hastily-dug escape route when we can be sure now that they’re not going to be able to do any such thing. They deserve a few days’ rest in Odinsheim before joining us down below. My duty, of course, is to make sure we can clear this…infestation…out with as few casualties as possible. We are down now to the seventh level; I hope to have all the administrative and dormitory areas secured within the next week at the most - not least because it would be more comfortable for the men to be billeted there rather than on the floors of the main halls. Morale has already taken a bit of a blow; I don’t think many of them had realised how fiercely the Orcs were going to resist, and I don’t think any of them had thought they were going to be spending Yule down here. The fighting is constant, but between the Berserkers and our shield units we are making steady progress so far. January 10, 494 A bridge across the fifth ravine gave way today while a company was crossing it. Twenty-two men died. Twenty-two bloody men in one go! One of the sappers from the Stufssons tells me there is no way that bridge could have given way like that without being sabotaged in some way. I will have him go with Modolfr tomorrow and check what’s left of the bridge mountings to see if we can be sure one way or the other. If Azag is using tactics like that, we’re going to have to be even more careful; and I’m possibly going to have to look at that cave-in the other day in a new light. Bah! I really don’t want to be having to send sappers and engineers on ahead at every bridge just to see if the damn thing’s safe to cross, it’s going to slow everything down a hell of a lot. Plus they’re going to be prime targets for the enemy, who is proving to be just as tough in this environment as he was above ground, if not more so. The healers have their hands full most of the time now, and the list of fallen is ever-growing…I fear we are going to be down here for a few more months yet. |
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January 12, 494
Commendation for Korik Bjornsson, Berserker. Today he killed seventeen Orcs during the fighting to take the western staircase down to the tenth level, in his first campaign. I have asked that he be awarded the Odinsheim Shield of Valour for his achievement. January 15, 494 Well…Azag’s an inventive little bugger, I’ll give him that. Early today we were advancing along one of the lesser access-tunnels to a junction-hall in the western part of the eleventh level, when Grani, who was on point, said he could hear water. About ten seconds later, what do we see? A damn great wall of the stuff rushing at us, almost up to the roof of the tunnel! Running like hell seemed the better part of valour at that point, so we promptly did exactly that all the way back to the previous junction-hall. The water came tearing out of the tunnel-mouth all over the floor of the hall, before finding its way to the ravine at the north side of the hall and going over the edge in a rather impressive waterfall. Thankfully enough torches remained alight for us to see our way around. After about three hours the water level in the tunnel had gone down enough for us to go back along – getting my bloody tobacco wet in the process, of course – and eventually we were able to piece together what had happened. A mine the size of this one inevitably has lots of streams and even rivers running through it; and as far as we can make out Azag’s troops had dammed up one of them to build up a big head of water, and then knocked down the makeshift dam-wall and directed the resulting torrent down the tunnel towards us. Novel. I have to admit that I was completely caught out by that one. Some satisfaction was gained by seeing the drowned bodies of about twenty Orcs by the dam-workings; they must not have gotten out of the way in time when they set the waters loose. However, this tunnel-flooding tactic is just one more thing we’re going to have to be wary of, and will slow things down even more. February 6, 494 Kolfinnr distinguished himself in combat today. Apparently his company were making steady progress along the main western transit tunnel here on the fifteenth level, roughly half a kilometer south of where I was leading my men, when they were ambushed by a well-organised force of about a hundred Orcs with at least three Trolls just after emerging into the main junction-hall of the level. Not only did he keep his head and organize his defence well – something that even men with far more experience often find difficult to do when the enemy has chosen the engagement – he ended up killing two of the Trolls himself with a great-axe he’d just picked up from a fallen Berserker of the Haraldssons. I commended him in front of his men both for his feat of arms and his steady nerve; he’s been visibly improving as a warrior all the time, and I think he’ll be carving out a reputation of his own soon enough at this rate. Steady, continuous fighting in all areas of this level; my hammer, Kampensang, is rarely out of my hand. I’ve had to repair my shield more times than I care to remember in the last few weeks. The deeper we get the more bitterly they contest every hall, every tunnel and room. Quarter is neither asked nor given on either side. No-one has yet seen Azag himself. He must be down in the lowest levels. Mod tells me some of the men are starting to refer to this place by a new name - Dodens Gruva. Things like that don’t do morale any good, but I suppose I can’t really blame them. Everyone down here is now a veteran, no matter how green they were when we started. February 27, 494 We are down to the nineteenth level now. The mine-workings are definitely less sophisticated this far down – Runolf Stufsson, who confirmed the sabotage of the bridge six weeks ago and seems to have become permanently attached to my command as chief sapper and engineer, tells me we are by his best estimate just over two kilometers down now. I have to admit, these are the biggest damn mines I have ever seen, by a long way – I knew Hulen Av Herlighet was meant to be big, but I didn’t realise it was this big. It would have been nice to see it under more pleasant circumstances. We’ve probably done as much damage to the place getting the Orcs out as they did fortifying themselves in. The All-Father alone knows if they’ll ever get this place back up and running again. Yesterday we came into a huge hall, possibly the biggest one we have seen in the whole mine, which looked to be deserted. We were going along checking the place for booby-traps, as has become customary, when Grani motioned for me to come over. He’d found a spiral stair, fully ten metres across, leading downwards at the north-western corner of the hall – we think this is the main route to the lowest levels, as described to us by one of the few survivors of the Orcs’ assault on the place two years ago, a miner who had admittedly spent most of his time on the upper levels. We have kept a watch on the stairs every minute since then, five of the balistas we have carried with us all the way from the surface trained on it at all times…but there’s no sign of activity. I don’t like it one little bit. It’s too important a means of access for Azag to leave unguarded, yet there is absolutely no sign of enemy action or presence there. I want to map out every inch of this level before deciding how to proceed. There’s something we’re missing here. At least Modolfr is back from his trip to Odinsheim. Lucky sod got to go and deliver this month’s report to Oystein on how things are going down here. I’d love to get some fresh air again myself, it’s been what, five months down here now? With just Mother’s Night spent with Birna and the little ones. Oystein himself is fairly sanguine about the progress we are making, he’s an old soldier himself after all and knows how these things work, but that jumped-up little blowhard of a lieutenant of his had the nerve to suggest we weren’t pulling our weight down here; Mod calmly invited the fellow to come and see for himself, and arranged for their route downwards to my current command post to take a rather circuitous route which just happened to wind through as many of the healers’ halls, surgeries, and mortuaries as possible so he could see just what the real cost of our progress is. By the time he got here he was quite green about the gills - I’d bet good gold that Human has never seen any action, no matter how much he struts about in the Jarl’s Hall and keeps that little sword of his slung at his side. I showed him the maps we have, and pointed out that since we were now getting into what amounted to uncharted territory in the lower levels, we would take as much time as we damn well needed to make sure we got out with as few lives lost as possible. And that if he didn’t like it, he was welcome to come down and join us and show us how he would fight a heavily-entrenched enemy that fights like a Berserker in a half-flooded tunnel in semi-darkness. And that if he didn’t shut up and get the hell out of my command post I was going to stick my boot so far up his arse he’d be using shoe-polish for toothpaste. I think he got the point. Tomorrow – as if a word like ‘tomorrow’ means much of anything down here - we need to know what’s going on with that damn staircase. I don’t understand why it’s undefended, and I don’t like things that I don’t understand when lives are at stake. It usually means the enemy has thought of something I haven’t. There could be anything waiting for us down there. |
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February 28, 494
Now we know why the staircase was undefended. We assembled as many torches as possible, and then I had volunteers advance in a line carefully down, never going out of sight of the man behind and each one taking up position slightly further down. Gradually the line extended further and further down, a spiral of torches along the stone steps, until after about twenty –five very tense minutes a cry came up from far below. I immediately took my men and ran down the steps, passing a man with a torch every few metres, to see what was below. And what was below…was nothing. The stairs extend down for maybe two hundred metres, then at the bottom the stone is smashed and broken, with just a black pit below. We dropped a torch and it fell until it was out of sight, without revealing anything more than the roughly circular shape of the shaft as it fell. Now we face a dilemma. This was supposed to be the main way down, and it’s now impassable. There has to be another way to go, unless Azag has decided to cut himself off completely and just starve down there…which does not seem likely, given how ferocious the defence has been so far. Which, in turn, implies that any other way down we find will be well-defended and most likely a very costly route to take. I have already sent scouts to look for more ways to access the lowest levels. March 7, 494 Hjelmar Stufsson and almost his entire company were killed today in bitter fighting in the great western junction-hall on this level. More than three hundred Orcs charged them in the north junction-hall, ten Trolls in the vanguard wielding great spiked maces; they smashed their way through Hjel’s men in short order and were soon running amok into the secondary lines. Modolfr and I led our companies in a counter-charge with all the Berserkers we could assemble on the spot – they are very effective against Trolls, but such is the single-mindedness of their fury they are vulnerable to being cut down by the Orcs while they drop their target. We hit upon the tactic of attaching two or three shield troops to each Berserker, to protect him while he did his work. This proved effective, but it was only at heavy cost and after several hours’ fighting we managed to prevail. I hadn’t thought the Orcs still had the numbers to mount an offensive action on such a scale, we haven’t seen action on such a scale since December and the higher levels. As the last Orcs were being mopped up, I found Hjelmar’s body next to that of an Orc lieutenant, his axe still buried in the greenskin’s face. He had fallen in battle as he would have wanted. This is a grievous loss; Hjel had been with us for nearly fifteen years now. He was a good friend, a great singer and a great fighter. I’m going to have to find some way to tell Inge. Ach! I want an end to this. Mod had kept a few of the Orcs alive for questioning, but I must confess that after seeing Hjel’s broken body I lost control of myself; I ran across and beat two of them to death with Kampensang before a few of the men could restrain me. I want that bastard Azag’s head in a bucket for this! March 16, 494 Over two weeks since we found the secondary staircases which lead down to the twentieth level and below, and it is only with great effort that we have managed to establish ourselves here. Azag set armoured Trolls to guard the staircases we eventually discovered in the southern junction-hall of the nineteenth level; after beating off several of our assaults, I realised we would have to try a new tactic. I got our sappers to collect as much unused oil as they could from the torches into barrels and then pour this oil down the staircase at a point where we knew a Troll to be, then simply throw a lit torch after it. We couldn’t see the Trolls as they burned, but the roaring that came from below was indescribable, and as we descended once the flames had died down we passed their charred, contorted corpses. Emerging into the hall below, we could see that at least one Troll, crazed with pain, had run amok and stampeded – probably while still on fire – into the hall with its great, jagged cleaver; the floor was littered with dismembered and crushed Orc bodies. Kolfinnr was almost killed in the first wave of Orcs that swarmed in to try to dislodge us from our position in this hall; leading his men deeper into the hall, he was cut off by the sheer weight of enemy numbers and I was sure he was lost. Only the long reach of his great-axe, and his obvious skill with it, allowed him to keep the Orcs at bay long enough for his own men to fight their way back to him. Luckily the Haraldsson Berserkers were not far away by then, and they proceeded to hack a bloody path through the Orc lines. In all my years I have never been in battle as primal or as bloody as the fighting down in the bowels of this place. Every damn metre has to be bought in blood, ours or theirs…usually both. The healers say they can save Kol’s leg, but it’s going to be a few days at least before he’s good to fight again. We’re coming into areas now where the Orcs have been nesting, and at least one question that has been nagging at us for some time now has been answered. Where have the Orcs been getting their food, with no way out to hunt or forage? When we came across a hastily-abandoned cauldron with an Orcish arm hanging half out of it, we had our answer. This is a hellish place. I am writing this sitting on a block of stone, the floor around me slick with blood – mostly green, but some red - and some severed Orc body parts…the stench of blood is all through the increasingly foul air down here. The only light is that of torches, the only songs those of battle, the only thoughts those of survival. The men are weary to the bone – as am I – and we have lost too many good men down here for victory to be anything other than bittersweet. March 19, 494 I‘ve seen Azag himself! We are now into the very lowest workings of this great complex, and today while fighting Orcs who had erected barricades across a wide ledge on one side of a ravine, I caught sight of a huge black Orc on the ledge on the other side. He carried a jagged two-handed cleaver, wore a black lacquered hauberk, and was clearly issuing orders to those around him; he looked to have two Trolls accompanying him. Bodyguards, maybe? I hurled a throwing-hammer at him, but the distance across the chasm was too great for it to be effective and it bounced off the rock wall a metre or two from him – still, that got his attention, and he turned and roared at me. An impressive creature, to be sure. He must be over two metres tall, and that cleaver of his looked to be taller than I am. We are advancing steadily but slowly. Every ledge has to be cleared of defenders who fight as though possessed before we can move on. Maybe they are crazed with hunger? Even the Berserkers are saying the fighting is hard. There are no maps at all of these deep regions of the mines; we are keeping a record of every chamber, every hall, every passage. The air is not so good now. At least the lack of airshafts means that’s one less route by which they can surprise us. Runolf tells me that this may very well be the lowest level of the mines; the desperation of the resistance we meet every hour would bear that out. How much longer can Azag keep throwing his troops at us? He can’t have much left now. March 20, 494 little time to write – Azag cornered, last hall at southern deep workings has been identified – Orcs fighting like demons – no trolls seen today anywhere – some held back? - forces move out in an hour for last push Odin watch over us all |
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Sexeh pictar Svart.
And is that the weapon you nearly broke my ribs with you bastid? <3 And keep it coming please (the story not the pictars)
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![]() And that's actually where the diaries end (they had a big final mosh and the Dwarf writing them kills Azag but almost gets killed himself in the process)...when i have other stuff in a similar vein that's fit to print I will. |
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