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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Clay_More" data-source="post: 4456178" data-attributes="member: 9813">Thanks a lot Sandwich, appreciate the feedback. I am really taking some effort to make it a bit grittier and darker than your average campaign setting, my players are adults and prefer a bit more "medieval" setting where everything isn't happy and dandy. Also the reason why I'm not including a bunch of creatures that simply don't fit in the setting (unicorns, good dragons, most fey, etc). Anyways, got a small introduction to the dwarves before I start posting the actual description of Cimakath island and the dwarven outpost in Rain Mountains.The gnome scouts were returning home to the small outpost perched on a hilltop. The elven wards had always posed a significant problem to the dwarves, an intricate matrix of arcane barriers and enchantments that would maim and kill trespassers. Luckily enough, the gnomes had found a way to circumvent the wards when they invented an alchemical liquid which possessed the ability to dampen magic. Clad in heavy, steel diving suits, these gnome scouts, the negators, were able to penetrate deep into elven lands to find targets for the dwarven artillery. Inside their suits, the gnome scouts lived an entire lifetime immersed in the thick, yellow liquid that allowed them to survive in the elven ward-lands.It seemed like the gnomes had stumbled upon an elven raiding party inside the woods. They were running towards the outpost, autoguns blazing as they fired at their pursuers. The elves rarely went to war alone, always preferring to field large armies of slave infantry, aided by the red hand orcs. The dwarven spotters could easily make out the flayed ones pursuing the gnomes. The elves were renowned for their vicious nature, and the flayed ones were an excellent example of their callousness. Tortured and chained from birth, flayed ones were recruited from both the human and orc slave villages inside the elven realms. Drugged by powerful stimulants on a daily basis and dragged to the battlefield in cages, the flayed ones had always been a nuisance to the dwarven outpost. It seemed like they harbored a deep death-wish, an urge to end their horrid existence. It was clear that the gnome scouts were having problems with the pack pursuing them, and the dwarven spotters yelled harsh orders to the artillery engineers. The Grudge Cannons slowly pivoted to face the enemy. An entire battery of cannons fired at once, a mighty roar that gave the enemy ample warning of the armageddon to come. A high-pitched whistle could be heard, the tell-tale sign of the heavy munitions descending from the sky. A thick, metal casing containing a mix of gunpowder and incendiary fluids, the grudge shells had proven themselves potent at tearing huge holes in ranks of enemy infantry. Deep inside the forest the shells impacted with the ground, spreading burning, metal shrapnel around them, turning the forest into a site of burning mayhem. Many of the flayed ones were torn to pieces by the shrapnel, falling weeping to the ground. The trees were painted red with blood. With their enemy subjected to the punishment of the Grudge Cannons, the gnomes stopped their retreat and formed a line at the edge of the forest, opening fire with their autoguns to punish their pursuers further for their insolence. Of the fifteen scouts that had gone into the forest, only nine remained. Yet on this day, no more would fall as a small group of dwarven bombardiers ran down to assist their allies. Clad in steampowered armor, the bombardiers brought their mortar guns to bear on the flayed ones in the forest, forming a line in front of the more vulnerable scouts. The Grudge Cannons fired another barrage, but this time the shells had been modified so they would only detonate after burrowing deep into the ground. When the barrage landed amongst the flayed ones, the explosions could be heard as more of a thick thump as the shells exploded several feet into the ground. This time, no shrapnel tore into the ranks of slave infantry. Those standing far from the point of impact were knocked over by the heavy vibrations of the barrage, while those standing closer to the wrath of the Grudge Cannons fell to the ground to die slowly from the internal bleeding caused by the vibrations. The few surviving flayed ones were quickly finished off by dwarven snipers and the gnomish guns. No celebration could be heard amongst the dwarves over their success in the battle. This wasn't an extraordinary day at the outpost, the elves sent raids like these on a daily basis, drawing upon their vast slave estates for a constant stream of cannonfodder in their battle against the dwarves. As soon as the Grudge Cannons stopped roaring and the scouts returned to the outpost, maintenance began as the cannon crews began cleaning their artillery pieces, readying themselves for the next raid. </blockquote>

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