I was talking to Flame, our cook and brewer. Unlike many other overseers I find it educational to talk with those working for me. Oh, I do have a very warped sense of humor and tend to call them by profession rather than their names but most of them seem to be all right with it. Even that fisher-lady, now a full blown miner, seriously one could not tell she was trained to deal with fish, had warmed up to me. I say most because Bsnott is still unhappy with me calling him a manager. But I digress.
As I said I was talking with Flame. I had noticed he has problems keeping up with the demand for food and drink and offered my help, I have nothing better to do without a battle axe anyway. He politely refused but we did continue chatting. Our conversation moved on to the topic of scarce firewood.
'I'm sure elves will bring us some.' He said confidently.
'Yeah, but only once.' I answered, my voice displaying no emotions.
'Why? Is there some sort of the limit on trade now?' Flame asked, confused.
'No. I just don't like elves and if they not behave correctly I may have to "defend" fortress from their assault, be it verbal or not.' I answered. We did continue chatting about few different things after that.
I hate elves and I have good reasons for that. In fact I hate them so much I have a habit of "over-interpreting", as my superiors used to put it, movements and actions of elven traders and their guards, if they bring any. Every elven caravan that had over-advertised their shoddy, wooden weaponry and armor, usually by waving their merchandise in front of broker's face, was attacked by me on suspicion of "threatening our security". And when one dwarf charges, axe in hand, into a group of elves other dwarves do not wait long to join in on the fun. Only my connections and family status had saved me from a severe reprimand by higher ups. Well, that and fact the elves are really hated in the Mountain Homes, after all the war is still in our memories, even though many decades had passed.
I was just a young lad when it all started, only around five years old. We were living in one of the outskirt outpost, my parents left the Mountain Homes a year or two before I was born. My mother was from a very rich and powerful family. However due to inside tensions family fell apart, mostly through assassinations and poisoning, and she, along with my Grandfather were the last two living members of our bloodline. Most of the wealth was gone but thanks to my Grandfathers position as a Militia Captain they still had a lot of prestige and respect from other Nobles. It was no surprise me Grandfather wanted my mother to marry one of the other Nobles. She however had different plans, she wanted to marry a simple mason. They run away and joined a migrant wave to aforementioned outpost.
So they got married, had a kid and would have lived happily ever after if this was an Armok-damned fairy tale. In reality one day my father was repairing one of the walls outside and my mother, leaving me inside playing with other five year olds, went to give him dinner. They returned covered in white sheets with numerous wooden arrows sticking out of their cadavers. Elves had payed a visit and gave them some gifts.
I was sent to Mountain Homes with next caravan. It was the first time I was going to see my Grandfather. He was in his early hundreds at that time but he was still a respectable warrior. Muscular, with a grand white beard and always clad in steel armor. He was also the only soldier allowed to carry adamantine battle axe, apart from Royal Guard. He was buried in it, as by my request. I know it is an unusual request but it was made even more unusual by King actually allowing that. But I'm getting ahead.
My first contact with him, Grandfather that is, was probably very similar to what all the migrants in Murderwheel felt when they were greeted by me. He seemed cold and unapproachable but after a while I knew he was a very nice guy. Make no mistake, he was very strict and fixated on discipline but at the same time he was very sympathetic and able to boost morale of even most crestfallen soldiers. He made sure I received a good education in mathematics and linguistics. I was also told all the major languages, including that vile tongue goblins use. My Grandfather was also the person who taught me Battle Axe Stances.
He died while we were on vacation. It was deep in our territory an nobody expected those pointy-eared bastards to be there. We were ambushed, my Grandfather slay few and I thought it was over. I was fifteen at the time.
'Stay hidden, Lad.' He never called me by name, even in conversations with others he referred to me as "Lad". 'There is certain to be mo....' Rest of the sentence was interrupted by an arrow in his left eye. I do not know why they did not kill me. I had watch them devour the corpse of my last family member while they beat me mercilessly. When they left there was nothing more left of my Grandfather but bare skeleton, his axe and armor. I had enrolled as soon as I came back to home.
It was around this time I earned my nickname, "Exodius". During one of the patrol duties with my squad, few years after I enrolled, we have spotted an elven ambush. Imagine my surprise and glee when I noticed these were the same Elves I got acquainted during me Grandfathers demise, speak about convenience. I blocked few arrows with my shield and.... I have no idea what happened next. Others said I entered the Martial Trance, often called Soldiers Fey Mood, and changed the enemy into a shower of red bits while giggling like a schoolgirl. One of my squadmates remarked I was like "Unstoppable Exodia" from a story his grandmother used to say and my captain started calling me "Exodius", soon it caught on.
Elves lost the war, their surrender was conditional, that's true, but surrender is surrender. My life was pretty comfortable after that, with occasional slaughter of elven caravans, for old times sake. Until I met that Forgotten Beast, I do not remember it's real name but history books call it "The Scourge of Urist". But it is a story for another time.
This is a long one, but it can be consider a filler. It is just some back story for my dwarf and his hatred of elves, it's fine if you want to skip it. In fact every time I make a filler I'll tag it above the spoiler with
^^ And if anyone thinks it is far-fetched from what can actually happen in-game I shall direct you towards Cacame Awemedinade.^^
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Topic: Murderwheel: Rabbits, Kittens and Sunshine[Community Fortress] (Read 48937 times)