You are now the terrified girl in the corner.






You just watched your newest best friend get murdered right in front of you. You politely ask the iron monster for mercy.

You know, if it's okay with that.






The iron monster makes a few noises of confusion, and withdraws its ax from the elf's chest cavity.






Then it lifts its visor.

"What are you on about, love? That elf didn't getcha, did he?"







Oh...it's not a monster.

It's just a dwarf.






"I mean, your mates all seem righty-oh. Our markdwarves were pretty dead-on, eh? Picked the tree-huggers off all nice and square before they could turn on ya. Never can trust a tree-hugger, cap'n always says! Tryin' to smuggle their junk into our fortress, down-right insultin' is what it is!"






You take a minute to wipe the blood off your face as the girl goes on.

"Name's Datan Ritas, number Eight of H.E.R.T. Squad Three, 'High Emergency Response Team'! Cap'n figured it'd only take one to clean up down here. Can't waste too many bolts on an elf, and SOMEONE'S gotta make sure the buggers are dead!"





"Come on now, hop on up! Can't fall down every time your neighbor gets an ax in the chest, can we? Else the entire fort'll be on it's rump!"