Mr. and Mrs. Urist

I had a pair of legendary miners who became dwarf and wife. Unfortunately, these two miners were my only source of military defense throughout the many perils of the first years. As a team they slew ten goblins, and drove off ambushes which had annihilated trade merchants and their guards. Then one day I sent them to the surface, Mrs. Urist brought her infant son to show him the ways of the surface world. The goblins were many that day and no doubt they were emboldened by having just smashed a caravan to splinters. Mrs. Urist charged into battle, holding her son up so that he could get a good view (and not get so much gore on him). Four goblins fell, their organs mined right out of their chests and skulls. As the rest fled, the proud mother pumped her unbelievably agile legs in pursuit. As she closed with the ambush leader, she felt her strength ebb as unnoticed wounds took their toll. The goblin turned, his halberd spun with hell's momentum. Mrs. Urist felt no fear, for her husband was surely by her side, ready to protect her. She had only a few seconds to wonder what went wrong as she died, face down in the earth. The goblin's keen, steel blade had cut through her child and into her abdomen, spilling her blood in a widening pool around her.

In the dining hall, Mr. Urist finished a lengthy guzzle of wine. Two nights later, his family was buried in a pair of fine orthoclase coffins. He celebrated with a truly decadent meal. Life was good. You could even say he was ecstatic.