...But the capt'n made clear he wasn't taking more of that bullshit. With a swing of his spear he bashed the monster right under it's knees and effectively finished it off, swiftly driving the sharp tip of the weapon in the distorted creature's eye socket. With a muffled moan, it fell on the ground, never to move again. The stragglers around stood shocked.
The patrol duty... The only thing reminding me I was His Gaudiness' soldier rather than a simple highwaydwarf. I hated it and I loved it. Anyway, it was my chanse to raise some money. I was selling gemstones to the travellers, who passed our outpost in search for a new home or easy money. Most of the latter found none... or their end. The former, though, were coming in en masse, because of... Well, reasons.
That day, I was patrolling the western road with Private Bumblebee and the capt'n. Just before that day, a notable battle took place to the southwest of our outpost, and scaterred groups of armed dwarves were returning back. Officially, His Gaudiness' warriors emerged victorious, but- Man, victors don't look like that. The losses were... moderate, compared to the older conflicts, but this time banshee forces didn't even bother pursuing the retreating dwarves, who were driven to the north by the sole power of their horrific screams. Legionnares, once proud, dropped their weapons and ammunition and fled, leaving behind their mounts, wagons and siege engines. Now they were slowly dragging back, shame and sorrow in their eyes, as they were to beg for food and bed.
We met one of their groups near the old camp, where they were gathering plants and such. With a sigh, capt'n checked their papers and was about to let them go, but something attracted his attention, namely a silent dwarf with a covering on his head who was standing by the trees, motionless.
The capt'n approached the guy, asking for his name. He said nothing... The people behind us were trembling in fear, as the old man grabbed the covering and pulled it off. Behind the covering, a horrible, nightmarish face was hidden, a distorted piece of flesh hardly resembling a dwarf. A huge maw, like a scar, tore that dwarves face and neck in half... only the eyes were untouched by the mutation. It must have been half-dwarf, half-Spawn... (3/4 dwarf in total, I guess).
The capt'n lost his nerve. He grabbed their commander and started shaking her, demanding an explanation. The unarmed, ragged mob surronded us. It was one of their soldiers, they said, who sustained heavy injuries in a strange spawn-related incident. Neither did he transform into a fully-fledged Spawn, nor he retained his personality. At least, that's what they claimed. The creature remained silent during the whole conversation, only breathing heavily and staring at us with it's frightened eyes.
The captain did not take this. He stabbed that dwarf with his spear and ordered for the stragglers to leave the place immediately. The soldiers wearily got up and continued on their journey...
By the way, a couple o' month later, the capt'n fell from the raft into the river, and nobody got up to save him. Poor sod. If we were taught anything but ignorance and selfishness...
Poll
Author
Topic: (34.11 Succession) Clobbermountains -- The End(?) (Read 401170 times)