“Did you hear the rumors?”
“W-What?” Deep in thought, the question startled me. We’d been travelling in silence for days, the land becoming more and more flat. This was nothing like the Mountainhall in which I grew up. Not even close. Of the 29 fortresses our mighty Dwarven civilization held... All were within our mountains. In fact, we had to pass our two brother civilizations to even get out here! I don’t know why we’re even here...
When the Royal Guard showed up at my door, declaring the great honor that had been bestowed upon me, all I could feel was dread. When they handed me the slab, declaring I had been ‘hand-picked for this assignment,’ and that ‘this is what I had been trained and prepared for my entire life,’ that sealed it. There had been no training, no preparing. I was nothing but a peasant.
“Well? Have you heard them?”
Had I heard them? Of course I had. How could I not? But rumors are just that; rumors. Nothing to be trusted. The plains beside the mountain range we encompass hold 130 known goblin Dark Fortresses, from 6 separate goblin civilizations; rumors of danger and bloodshed are nothing new. Dwarven Steel has always prevailed in the past, and it will continue to prevail!
Except, we’re about as far from home as is physically possible, and they didn’t send a bit of steel with us...
Seeing my companion was about to ask again, I quickly spoke: “Yes. Yes, I’ve heard them.”
“Well,” he said, “do you think there’s any truth to them? You know, if we’ll see... Them?”
“I certainly hope not,” I replied.
Some time back, one of our caravans journeyed to our farthest brother clan, and brought back rumors of creatures... Unspeakable creatures... Creatures... Long dead, yet living.
“Zombies,” I said softly.
Climbing a slight rise, our Expedition Leader brought the wagon to a stop. Surveying the land around us, comparing it to his map, he cautiously declared, “Alright, I think we’re here.”
Here? Here? We’re on top of a slight hill, no mountains in sight! Even worse, the ground around the hill was soft, damp even. We’re supposed to survive here? Flat land as far as the eye can see, nothing but rolling hills and trees! This is elven land, not fit for a dwarf! Nothing taller than a tree, except for that odd, black, flat-topped... thing, on the other side of the forest.
Looking at it, a sense of urgency and dread returned, stronger than ever.
The Expedition Leader spoke again, saying, “Alright, well, let’s make the best of it. Grab your picks, let’s delve some secure lodgings. I hear winters can be harsh down here, might very well entomb us until spring, and those giant dingoes are looking a mite hungry. Strike the earth!”
Hey everyone! So I'm trying to tap my creative side, long since dormant. I figured, the easiest way to do it is through writing. And since my current obsession is Dwarf Fortress, what would be more natural? :p
So honest opinions, what do you think? What about the style, the perspective, any other artsy word concepts of which I'm not aware? :p
And most importantly, does this seem like anything anyone would want to read? Honest feedback, please. :-)
Author
Topic: Through the eyes of a random dorf: Azmolcerol (Read 900 times)