Northwestern Liang
04-09-2004, 04:17
As time progressed, year after year, the quantity and quality of the Northwestern Liangite interstellar ships grew. The first had been the LSS Tiamat, its namesake being a powerful ancient dragon. A supercarrier, it had heralded the beginning of the Space Age. Then another came, and then the two kilometer long ‘industrial’ ship that had unwittingly brought about the One Day War of Allanea.
Then Red Planet had been colonized. Dwarven colonists grew everyday closer to completion of the massive hydrospheres that would ensure the permanence of the Liangites on Martian soil. Barazûn that colony (which was closer to a duchy than a true subordinate colony) had been named, a Khuzdul word meaning ‘Red Land’.
Now the great subterranean capital that was Barâk-dûm (the dwarven one; by now it was accepted colonial affairs were the domain of the bearded ones) looked to newer, farther horizons. Extrasolar might have been just a little too risky for only the second colonial attempt. No, there was still plenty of other unoccupied land in Sol, if one knew where to look. A Martian moon? No, too redundant (or so the enigmatic emperor had said). Jupiter, Saturn? If the dwarves did not say so, the reason for not choosing the largest solar planet’s moons was little else besides that they did not feel secure enough to negotiate or be neighbors with the great interstellar powers like the Triumvirate of Yut or Arda (and perhaps did not want so close a base next to a nominal enemy). Mercury? Venus? No, the dwarves were looking for something a little further out. Uranus, Neptune? Viable choices, maybe, but discarded in the end. That left Pluto, but the nitrogen ice on Pluto would make it all that more difficult to establish a colony. Where then? It was to Pluto’s ‘moon’ (a moon half the size of the planetoid) that the attention of the dwarven race now turned to. 'Charon' that freezing cold body had been called. The very skeleton who rowed mortals into Hades. Charon was 25% water-ice, 75% metal and rock, and the only foreign presence there was a small research facility, as intelligence put it. Ripe for colonization, or so the advisors had said. Thus the dwarf-lord set it in his heart to challenge this, the very gateway to hell.
And so it began. The entire manpower (and dwarf- and machine-) of the space station concentrated on the superhuman construction efforts the ships required. The negative temperatures they would be dealing with blew the mind, and on a foreign suggestion the designers finalized a design for a pebble-bed fission reactor to produce enough to maintain a nice, cool environment for the expedition. From here it was only a matter of time as more and more dwarves piled into the expeditionary force, and the ships grew closer and closer to completion.
When that day finally came, the entire crew of the space station assembled (as well as Lord Andvari) and waved them off, with much cheering and waving. The crews obliged them, but in their heart of hearts, knew there would be no time for cheering in the months ahead. The FTL acceleration took only a moment to charge up, pinpoint the highly eccentric Plutonian orbit, and zoom off into hyperspace.
A grim silence permeated the ships on their journey through time and space. Temperatures in the negative hundreds…unthinkable. Each of them had brought enough heating gear to make Eskimos look like Spring Breakers, but all of them knew failure would bring a cold, icy death in the deeps of a far-off planetoid. As the tiny, orbiting ‘moon’ of Pluto came into view, their first impression was…Darkness. Dim, without light. The word in their tongue was ‘Azan’.
So their efforts began. In the perpetual night of Charon, lights were constantly needed. This posed little problem to dwarves who were used to leaving underground their entire lives, and it didn’t faze them an inch. The gigantic ships descended for docking, and a short time for celebration was allowed before work began. Carving into the rock and metal of Charon, a long tube descended from each of the colony ships, into the ground.
A name was now needed. Almost the entire colony would be beneath the earth, a veritable stronghold of the dwarven race to rival even the mighty dwarf-holds of elder times. Truly it would be a fortress. A dim, dark fortress perhaps, but a fortress nonetheless. Yes, that would do nicely.
Azangathol, the Dim Fortress.
Then Red Planet had been colonized. Dwarven colonists grew everyday closer to completion of the massive hydrospheres that would ensure the permanence of the Liangites on Martian soil. Barazûn that colony (which was closer to a duchy than a true subordinate colony) had been named, a Khuzdul word meaning ‘Red Land’.
Now the great subterranean capital that was Barâk-dûm (the dwarven one; by now it was accepted colonial affairs were the domain of the bearded ones) looked to newer, farther horizons. Extrasolar might have been just a little too risky for only the second colonial attempt. No, there was still plenty of other unoccupied land in Sol, if one knew where to look. A Martian moon? No, too redundant (or so the enigmatic emperor had said). Jupiter, Saturn? If the dwarves did not say so, the reason for not choosing the largest solar planet’s moons was little else besides that they did not feel secure enough to negotiate or be neighbors with the great interstellar powers like the Triumvirate of Yut or Arda (and perhaps did not want so close a base next to a nominal enemy). Mercury? Venus? No, the dwarves were looking for something a little further out. Uranus, Neptune? Viable choices, maybe, but discarded in the end. That left Pluto, but the nitrogen ice on Pluto would make it all that more difficult to establish a colony. Where then? It was to Pluto’s ‘moon’ (a moon half the size of the planetoid) that the attention of the dwarven race now turned to. 'Charon' that freezing cold body had been called. The very skeleton who rowed mortals into Hades. Charon was 25% water-ice, 75% metal and rock, and the only foreign presence there was a small research facility, as intelligence put it. Ripe for colonization, or so the advisors had said. Thus the dwarf-lord set it in his heart to challenge this, the very gateway to hell.
And so it began. The entire manpower (and dwarf- and machine-) of the space station concentrated on the superhuman construction efforts the ships required. The negative temperatures they would be dealing with blew the mind, and on a foreign suggestion the designers finalized a design for a pebble-bed fission reactor to produce enough to maintain a nice, cool environment for the expedition. From here it was only a matter of time as more and more dwarves piled into the expeditionary force, and the ships grew closer and closer to completion.
When that day finally came, the entire crew of the space station assembled (as well as Lord Andvari) and waved them off, with much cheering and waving. The crews obliged them, but in their heart of hearts, knew there would be no time for cheering in the months ahead. The FTL acceleration took only a moment to charge up, pinpoint the highly eccentric Plutonian orbit, and zoom off into hyperspace.
A grim silence permeated the ships on their journey through time and space. Temperatures in the negative hundreds…unthinkable. Each of them had brought enough heating gear to make Eskimos look like Spring Breakers, but all of them knew failure would bring a cold, icy death in the deeps of a far-off planetoid. As the tiny, orbiting ‘moon’ of Pluto came into view, their first impression was…Darkness. Dim, without light. The word in their tongue was ‘Azan’.
So their efforts began. In the perpetual night of Charon, lights were constantly needed. This posed little problem to dwarves who were used to leaving underground their entire lives, and it didn’t faze them an inch. The gigantic ships descended for docking, and a short time for celebration was allowed before work began. Carving into the rock and metal of Charon, a long tube descended from each of the colony ships, into the ground.
A name was now needed. Almost the entire colony would be beneath the earth, a veritable stronghold of the dwarven race to rival even the mighty dwarf-holds of elder times. Truly it would be a fortress. A dim, dark fortress perhaps, but a fortress nonetheless. Yes, that would do nicely.
Azangathol, the Dim Fortress.