The city of Rocaceleste—so beautiful we could die here! But that would not happen, not with our goddess watching our steps. Arach, praised be, we had a place to reach. This continent did not please us—full of life, of disrespectful, vulgar beings. No one wore their garments properly; everything came from other animals. What a difference from us! As we advanced through the caves, I could see the advance group—all wearing their parents' garments, boots with soles of back skin, waist undergarments, enchanted breastplates. I still thought women's breastplates were more practical. With their extra masses of fat, they were used by the shock troops in an attempt to give them a little extra protection. But we did not need it. The Spider that dwells in the shadows called us to her hosts if she so chose. If it was not yet time, we would not die. That was the goddess's will.
When we discovered these caverns, it was a vision—something beautiful, covered by the bodies of hundreds of dwarves, thousands of them subjugated to our will, building monuments in honor of the goddess while they died and their bones became something more than mortar to sustain the foundations of the new city of the Drown. We were the last survivors of the continent. We killed the rest who remained, but there were not many. For millennia, dragons attacked—thousands of them, green, stupid, impossibly strong. Only Arach gave us comfort, told us where to hide. A handful of abandoned beings, without children, parents, or brothers—the caves received us. There, amid the filth, we honored her, alive at least. We learned to avoid misfortune, using what we had at hand, digging, facing risks, dying, and being reborn. Today, we would attack the first dwarven city. We had already eliminated other cavern inhabitants; their bones were hard. Arach insisted that beneath the ground lay the bones of the supreme dragon, which would give us weapons no one could face. This city was small, perhaps new—that would explain the lack of defenses. It would be easy prey.
The dwarves reacted quickly. An axe flew near my ear. The attacker was a young representative of his race, but one of the few who still survived. The attack we used was effective—we were fast, and they only attacked in a limited area. Yet at times, they made me nervous. We were very few; they had a small city but numbered nearly a hundred. We barely added up to forty, and we were the shock troop—one of the Drown's largest forces. Still, I could see Glitch dead in one of the trenches. He was strong, very strong. He arrived eliminating dwarves left and right. His swords were part of a lizard that oozed venom—one hit and you were history. His armor belonged to his entire family; he had the complete set. None of us could offer resistance. Yet one of the dwarves, with a huge wound on his back, venom running in his veins, dying and blind, stopped him for a few seconds. He clung to him with strength. Five more dwarves finished our comrade—without remorse, without shouts. They eliminated him and threw themselves at the others. This was the last of them. He used throwing axes and a small shield. My sword avoided them; it was made from a leg and a wrist. Arach helped me greatly—it was light and always kept sharp. I dodged each attack from my enemy. He was red-skinned, shouted many things—I did not understand him too well, but he did not ask for mercy, did not ask for burial for his people. He was so fierce he managed to break through my defenses. At that moment, with all my sorrow, I pierced his heart with my sword. I could have done it earlier, but he inspired my curiosity... He still had life in his eyes! An axe flew from his hand. I managed to dodge it, but not without hearing a yelp. As the dwarf fell, I turned to see another of my troops die. That dwarf's weapon had broken his helmet and buried itself in his brain. This could not be happening—we had lost five of ours! We had no one to replace them!
We Drown did not cry. But as my comrades removed the skin from our dead, I could see an expression of loneliness. We could not keep advancing like this—we were few, and they could eliminate us. I needed to contact our queen; she would know what to do. I was sorry, caves—we could not be with you yet... But soon.