Just a little story to commemorate DF and all its success
Urist McGeshudezar sat down upon the wooden chair, admiring his artifact adamantine battleaxe. His fortress, Tributestory, had fallen, besieged for months by an almost never ending goblin army. His brothers fell, but unlike the rest, Urist ran. He ran to his room to fetch a drink, and hated himself for it. His brothers in arms, his people, everyone dead, except for him. And now the enemy was at the door, banging at it, screaming in their guttural language. Here, Urist sat, pondering, thinking.
He knew that he would die. Despite his skill, he knew he could not survive for long, let alone beat them. So he did the only thing he could. He prayed.
What god did he worship? One of the many, many pantheons? No. For his family worshiped only one god, the blood god, the one known to all dwarves by one name.
"Armok, hear my prayer..."
Outside, the enemies shouted at someone, possibly to fetch some trolls.
"In the name of the great three: Boatmurdered, Headshoots, Syrupleaf..."
BOOM BOOM BOOM. The goblins were getting closer to breaking down the door.
"By the power of Nist Akath, Blockedlance, Towersoared..."
BOOM BOOM BOOM. Some more gutteral noises, probably the goblins rejoicing over their victory.
"Give me the strength of Ironblood, of Cacame, of Holistic Detective..."
BOOM BOOM BOOM. They were almost through.
"Armok, the one and true master of Dwarves, give me this chance to redeem myself, to shed these wretches' blood for you, to avenge my comrades and my people..."
BOOM BOOM BOOM. Just a few hits more...
And Urist stood up, axe in hand.
"Blood for the Blood God."
CRASH!!! The door burst open, and in entered goblins, looking for easy dwarven prey. They found one dwarf. They closed in on him...
Urist McGeshudezar has entered a Martial Trance!
He swept through the pathetic goblins like a wave, and in those few minutes, their numbers meant nothing. He destroyed dozens of them, until he met their leader: the demon law-giver of their race, his body a twisted version of a cow. He wielded a silver whip.
The two clashed. Urist fought like a madman, the demon fought...well, like a demon. Neither of them managed to land a hit on one another. But Urist, like all dwarves, tired, and a single blow from the whip broke Urist's arm. The last thing he saw was a leering face of a demonic cow, laughing at him.
Urist opened his eyes, and was greeted by a blinding yellow light. Quickly covering his eyes, he heard someone call behind him.
"Urist, you old sod, that was some fight."
It was Jeb, Urist's best friend, the militia captain.
"Jeb...are we where I think we are?"
"Yep."
"So is...is everyone else here?"
"Yes, everyone else. We were worried that you weren't gonna come with us, due to your little blunder, but that fight actually earned you a place of honor up here."
"So I'm dead." he said, in a bittersweet voice.
"Yes, you died, but you sure gave those green monsters hell before you did."
"Yeah, that's true. I never knew losing could be so fun."
I just wrote this on a whim to remember the old forts and tropes of DF that I have loved, and which made me get the game. It looks a bit cheesy, I guess, but I did my best.
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Topic: In Memory of DF (Read 2148 times)