Shieldwall Hill

**Shieldwall Hill** is a grassy hill in the north-eastern territory of the Laiscuit League. On the Shieldwall Hill the Nounoesie division of the nation guard of the Rim, an division made of immigrant dwarves, made their heroic final stand against the Nutonists forces. The stalwart dwarves of the Nounoesie division were so stubborn that they refused pass on into the dream, haunting the place of their final stand and attacking anyone or anything that they see as an enemy.

## History

The dwarves, known in their own tongue as the Nanousi, had always kept to their own communities after arriving in the Unified Rim Area. So when the Metal Wars broke out between the URA and the separatist factions from the borderlands of the Rim the commanders of the national guard thought it best to keep the dwarves together in their own unit. They called this division the Nounoesie, after the word that the people of the Rim say when they butcher the dwarven tongue. The division quickly became an elite unit as they combined the traditional dwarven towershield with the goedendag of the Rim.

For months the dwarves managed to keep the separatists on the eastern coast pacified and kept the area in control of the URA. However their allies in the south were less lucky and the separatists pushed the nation guard from the Gnicelands into the forest of the Wolge. These successes allowed the lord-regent of Cauwenberg to relocate some of his forces to the eastern coast to deal with the elite Nounoesie division before they could regroup with the southern guard forces and form a successful counterattack. The mercenaries and Nutonist forces of the lord-regent easily outnumbered the Nounoesie division 4 to 1 and forced the dwarves to retreat.

For days they were haunted by skirmishes and ambushes, slowly losing dwarf after dwarf to the continues battle and lack of sleep. Eventually they found a small hill on which they would be able to make camp for the night. At the first crowing of the crow they awoke only to find themselves surrounded by the enemy on all sides. The lord-regent personally personally rode forth on his cassowary to compliment the dwarves on their battle prowess, and promised them great wealth and land if they became his personal guards. The dwarves simply said no and told that they made an oath to the national guard that they would fight until the war's end. Grimly the lord-regent nodded with understanding and he turned to his troops. "On the count of 30 we shall finish this fight!" he said to them and began to count. The dwarves quickly formed a wall of shield on the top of the hill, reading themselves. "30!" the lord-regent screamed as hard as his gnomish throat could scream. Then all hell broke lose: soldiers threw themselves at the dwarves, sure of an easy win, and the brave dwarves quickly cut them down for their folly. Arrows flew around, more often hitting the backs of allied heads than the faces of the dwarven towershields. It was pure chaos and the lord-regent and his retinue could do nothing but cry a little at the loss of such honourable and disciplined souls to the cruelty of their imbecilic man. For uncountable hours the dwarves swung and slashed and bashed at their enemies, losing track of just how many of them they had killed. They began to tire, slowly falling asleep as the hacked and hacked and hacked. When the dwarves woke up they were surrounded by a pile of corpses, and more enemies seemed to approach from the woods. The dwarves charged them as sliced them to bits, not realising that those were simple graverobbing peasants, or that they where already dead.