Here's a personal favourite of mine from way back in 40d. Only very minor artistic license is taken:
Thobatol was a prosperous community of about seventy dwarven farmers, miners and artisans. It had originally been settled as an iron-mining settlement, but after one of their number had a mysterious -some say divinely inspired- bout of inspiration they ended up becoming the region's foremost exporter of wholesale clothing. This led to them being on unusually good terms with the elves; in fact, their caravan with its dozens of bolts of cloth was anticipated eagerly, as the two raw materials Thobatol could never quite achieve self-sufficiency in were cloth and timber.
One year, however, the caravan had attracted some unwanted attention from goblin raiders. As the slow column of mules and their drovers made its way towards the trade depot, half a dozen goblins crept slowly towards it. But at the last moment, somehow they tipped their hand. Perhaps one of them startled a bird or dislodged some pebbles, perhaps Mighty Armok Himself looked down and sent a warning; we shall never know.
Whatever the cause of it, the ambush had gone off at half-cock and the goblins were trailing behind the caravan. Their leader raised his iron crossbow and shot one of the guards dead. The other found himself surrounded by half a dozen goblins with cruel iron swords, himself being armed only with a heavy wooden mace. Nevertheless, he steeled himself and let loose the traditional elven war-cry: "Oh aye? Come an' 'ave a go if ya think yer 'ard enough!"1
Thobatol was not a well-armed settlement, and boasted only a half-dozen lightly armed and armoured fortress guard. Worse yet, no sooner had the hue and cry gone up from the merchants than another party of goblin raiders fell upon a handful of dwarves taking the air in a sculpture garden near the rear entrance. Fortunately a couple of fortress guard were among their number, and they were able to hold their own while the others went running to assist the beleaguered caravan guard.
However, it turns out that these particular goblins were not 'ard enough. The plucky young elven warrior was clouting them all over the valley, launching one of them into the rock face with enough force to splatter, and dodging the occasional shot from the lone crossbowman with apparent ease. He raised his mace to the frantic militia-dwarves in a cheery salute... just as the squad leader took careful aim and fired his last crossbow bolt with deadly accuracy through the elf's back.
His triumph was short-lived; the enraged militia didn't even bother to nock a bolt, but came charging down the valley and impaled him from three sides with their bayonets2.
Thobatol raised a new squad of militia the next month, armed with swords and shields looted from the goblins slain by their elven comrade. A magnificent statue carved of blood-red bauxite stands on the spot where he fell in defence of the fortress.
Thobatol remembers.
1 For reasons much too complicated to go into here, I like to imagine DF elves having extremely broad Scouse accents.
2 My first ever modding project.
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Topic: Your Dwarf Fortress anecdote - Illustrated! (Read 104924 times)