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[razor871]

Hi everybody! This topic is here for you to share your sad or awesome experiences, I'll start off with one of my most recent adventure downfalls:

My best character was called Rothgorn Candlebane (I'm good with creating names aren't I? ) he had started off fighting murderers/evil corrupt people dwelling in small caves and he gained quite a bit of fame and hired 2 companions, eventually one of them drowned because he was a terrible swimmer so he was then left only with an elven crossbow man, after that he retired for a while so I could create more people in the Candlebane family (Im starting a bloodline of heroes) but they didn't survive very long...

After that I went back to playing as Rothgorn and he and the elf continued to travel the wilds until, they came across a tomb. seeing as I knew he was so powerful (or so I thought) I decided to make Rothgorn venture into the tomb, after a while of exploring I came across a mummy. (this is were it all goes down like melted icecream) The mummy raised his skeletal servants and they started grabbing Rothgorn and killing his elven companion, the mummy then proceeded to rip him to pieces limb by limb and Rothgorn bled to death...

There's a moral to this story: Don't go poking around in other people's business because it might not end so well..

Thanks for reading! 

[Urist MacNoob]

I had a character that was much like Jetstream Sam pre-Armstrong.

I went around slaughtering goblins via stealth and the occasional voluntary longsword duel. He became quite famous, particularly with the people he disagreed with. He even gained the respect of a goblin war band(checked the history myself) when he killed the majority of their 20+ warriors and leader without ever being spotted. He then was ambushed by the survivors, whom were all cripples or missing a limb. He killed them all.

I came across one particular hamlet that had a problem with a were-elephant devouring their reindeer cows. I gathered two like-minded soldiers from the nearby village and set out to kill it. As we stood over the human-formed werebeast's bloodied body, I came to the realization that this was a family reunion.

The pikeman was the family father. The swordsman at my side, the one who landed the killing blow, was the son. This werebeast was the family mother.

That... Stunned me, a bit. Both in how sad it had to be to perform such a duty and in how rare such occasions are. It's caused me to take a distinctly different view on werebeasts.

We travelled on and I might have gotten attached to them, which made it all the worse when all of us died fighting goblins in catacombs. I had superhuman willpower and died because, let's see, this goblin whipped my finger, causing me to pass out.

[razor871]

'Tis a sad tale indeed..

[Dwarf_in_the_North]

I built a most magnificent mountain home in some nice olivine caverns. I liked all the green without all the filthy elves. After four years the gobbos managed to muster a force of twelve. I confidently sent out my milita and guard, a total of 11. I destroyed the goblins, but sadly lost eight of my dwarfs due to the difficulties of training. The ensuing tantrum spiral destroyed most of my 132 dwarfs (plus later migrants), and then after many mayors, my solid gold crypt was complete, though my final miner was killed in his sleep by a vicious marauding cave dragon. (seemed unfair that a legendary miner equipped with his pick was asleep at death.)

Needless to say, I meant to recover my single useful artifact: a crossbow, from the mines. After several attempts, I finally was able to penetrate the depths of my old home. I discovered that the crossbow was not among the possessions of my unfortunately non-living dwarfs. I read many inscriptions and slew several gobbos in my search, but to no avail. Even the statues and gem windows of the magnificent golden tomb were damaged and in disarray. Eventually, I resolved to take what I could from the mines, allowing ample room for the many bolts which lay strewn about the cavern floors. Obviously the golden statuary was too heavy, but I finally came to my jeweler’s workshop and found only rough-hewn gems. Resolving to take these as the best of what remained, I  filled my pack nearly full with them.

Sadly, in my greed and wild avaricious abandon, I neglected to notice the large fire that had sprung up in the only doorway to or from the room in which I stood. I laid there for many hours, waiting for the flames to die down, and even fought off a couple of goblins, throwing my precious bolts and goods past the fires of damnation. But in the end, I found that my food supplies had been expended and I could no longer sustain myself. I comforted myself with the knowledge that I was among my people in the end.

(Seriously, you should be able to put out camp fires that you have started yourself. Especially when you're about to starve to death in a hole filled only with gems and can't get out. To quote Bard from "The Hobbit": "We leave you to your gold. You may eat that, if you will!")

[Xantalos]

I'd leveled up a particular adventurer to the point where he was practically immortal. Nothing could touch him, he swatted arrows out of the air with a mining pick, picked them up, and threw them back at the bowman with enough force to shatter his spine. He had a long and detailed history of killing every bad guy ever. Then one day he woke up in the wilderness with his throat cut and around 30 gobbos surrounding him.
He goes into a martial trance.
And just slaughters his way through them. None stood a chance, and ironically once the last dude was dead, he bled out.
A good end to ye, unnamed adventurer. A good end.

[Enemy post]

I mentioned this on another thread, but once I was running downstairs in a keep to save a kid from a goblin. As I entered the room the goblin struck with his dagger...and the kid parried, counter struck, and stabbed the goblin in the foot, toppling him