Fikod sat back, propped against a tree by the riverside.
She found herself in an unusually good mood; the summer had been pleasantly warm, the food and alcohol plentiful, and new faces appeared every few months.
The fish were biting, and Fikod smiled. She had never seen such vibrantly healthy trout in all of her one hundred and fifty years.
Fikod let her mind wander, as it so often wanted to these days, and reminisced about her younger days. She saw herself as a young child, in a young fort in a young nation. It was not wealthy, but it was safe. It never was a particularly enthralling place, even then; there were few people, few children to play with, and precious little to do, so she became a fisherdwarf. It was a simple job, but it gave Fikod time to appreciate nature around her. Unlike most other dwarves, she enjoyed the outdoors - seeing things grow and mature as time went by was a pleasant pastime. Some would have called the life of a fisherdwarf boring, or superfluous, given dwarves could get viable nutrition out of nearly anything, but Fikod found it relaxing.
She became something of a legend in her fort, able to coax the most finicky fish to the surface with barely a glance at the water.
As she grew up, she married, and had children. And her children had children, and her grandchildren had children; Fikod could hardly keep track of her family even when she was in her prime of her 80s, there were that many. It was all she had ever wanted, to watch the world grow and mature around her; life was a special thing to Fikod indeed. There were some who scoffed at her as being "touched by the Elves", but Fikod didn't give it a thought. She was always happy, and providing fish for her fort was proof of her dwarfiness.
In later years, as her fort became the capital, she began to wish to move elsewhere. The dwarves at her old fort were all grown adults, with a stable population. They never wanted for food anymore, they were well and truly self-sufficient, they were their own fully grown entity.
So, Fikod left. She wandered the world until she found the new village Idekcatten, "Brainchanneled." Like her old fort, it had a pleasant brook, calm surroundings, and healthy trade. The population was still in that stage where they were hand to mouth - an ideal way for Fikod to make her mark.
She arrived at Idekcatten in late 250, with the first other set of migrants. Naturally, she resumed her old job of fisherdwarf, catching many fish for the population, which grew rapidly. Idekcatten was the new place to be, now that their food was secure.
It was now the autumn of 254. Fikod felt tired. She'd never felt tired before. She'd found this fishing spot for herself when she first moved to Idekcatten, far away from the other fisherdwarves. It wasn't that she disliked their company; not at all, she loved company. She just enjoyed solitude while fishing, too.
So Fikod coaxed a huge trout to the surface. She laid it across her lap, skinned it and gutted it effortlessly, and placed it next to the other trout she'd caught. She thought of all the people she'd helped raise, directly, or indirectly, and this made her happy.
She moved back over to her favourite spot, already worn down by years of fishing there, and luxuriated in her surroundings.
It was late evening before anyone realised she hadn't come back inside for dinner, so the other fisherdwarves went to check on her, and found her lying against the tree, semi-reclined, peacefully asleep, or so it looked. Fikod had passed away as the sun set, a smile on her face, and a pile of prepared trout ready and waiting in her characteristic lucky nether cap basket.
Well I'm on a version that doesn't have taverns.
Oh, and a vampire child is having a strange mood now. She demands shells but I have none.
So what happens if she goes insane? A vampire can not die of thirst, right?
We'll see.
Vampires that go insane will not die of thirst, no. But they do still disregard their health and safety and run around in potentially dangerous areas.
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Topic: What's going on in your fort? (Read 6101632 times)