Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

“The Baasgarta had kidnapped some of our folk and killed and eaten others. We had no way of knowing that this barely scratched the surface of their depravity and evil.”

From the diaries of Engvyr Gunnarson

Squirrel was a Ratter for his mining crew. It took fast hands, a quick mind and he had been on the job for four years. He was valued because having a good ratter meant that you always had a little meat in the pot at the end of your shift.

He had heard the rumors about the new dwarves. Crazy rumors, really. That they dressed like the Masters, wore no brands, spoke gibberish and were taller than his own people. He had tried to do as the elders said and not think about it but Squirrel had never been good at not thinking about things. How could there be such a thing? The Braell were the only dwarves, everyone knew this. They belonged to the Masters and always had. But everyone also knew that The Pit and The Farms were all there was in the world, Squirrel thought, Yet here we are.

Weeks ago many crews had been brought forth from The Pit and set on the road. They had been quietly joyous, for they must be going to The Farms. After all there was nowhere else. But instead they had marched for days. Those that sickened or faltered were killed, food for the Masters.

At length they came to this place where there was neither Pit nor Farm and were ordered to dig. There were no rats for Squirrel to chase so he helped the crew moving dirt. They slept at night huddled together under their blankets in the lee of the pile of dirt. It was boring work and it left Squirrel with much time to reflect.

On the journey he had seen many strange and wondrous things. Some of them he had heard of, like trees. They had seen streams, rivers and mountains. Animals that were not ulvgaed but looked much the same, with coats of white and brown instead of all black. He had seen something else too: The Masters had lied to them. This was the thing he could not make himself not think about.

All of his life Squirrel had been told that Dwarves were born into this world to pay for a great sin they had committed against God in a previous life. Here they must labor to make up for that sin. It was a world of Pit and Farm. Those with the greatest sin were born into The Pit. Others whose sin was less were born to The Farms, where they grew food for all. But if the Pit and the Farm being all the world was a lie what else might be?

After a week of digging the dwarves had long since cleared away the earth. With the Masters using their magic to break up the rock, work was progressing quickly. He decided that it was time to see these new dwarves for himself. He simply walked along the edge of the newly forming pit, past the crews until he was not in a direct line of sight of the dwarves and Masters. Being but twelve years old he had not yet been given the leg-cut that restricted his elders to short steps, so he was able to quickly dart among the trees.

He did not know this sort of environment, but four years as a ratter had taught him plenty about stealth. The thick carpet of needles fallen from the trees was a good surface for sneaking, and he moved quickly from tree to tree, always watching to insure that all heads were turned away from him whenever he moved.

At length he came within sight of the Master's encampment. There, past the tents and cooking-fires he saw them and felt a tide of excitement rising within him. Dwarves like him, yet like no dwarves he had ever seen. They were bound hand and foot but he could see that they bore no brands across their cheeks. If their shoulders were branded it was hidden beneath their clothes. They were indeed dressed like Masters, or similarly at least, for they wore great-cotes, trousers and boots. The hair and beards of the men were long, not cropped short in the way of his own people.

He watched them hungrily, absorbing every detail about them. By their very existence they proved the lie of his life and everything he had been told. There were Dwarven Masters! He did not yet know what this meant, or what he should do. In one stroke his world was changed forever.

“What are you doing here?”

He had been so caught up he had not noticed a Master approaching him from behind. He spun to face him and was knocked to the ground by a backhand blow. His mind spun off into panic- he could not imagine what his punishment would be for this, but it would be severe. The Master reached for him and Squirrel instinctively kicked out, his foot catching him in the groin.