The Rampage of the Werelizard Fikod DangleSyrupsAnd so it begins.
Those on the surface upon seeing the beast started to flee as soon as they saw the beast. It was highly unlikely that any one of them could have run fast enough if the werelizard had actually gone for them, but good fortune meant it did not.
It descended down the mine shaft instead.
Upon seeing this, one of the surface dwarves, in a spit of bravado and heroism, decided to charge down the tunnel to face the werelizard himself. However, in the moment of stupidity that followed, he conveniently dropped his weapon on the floor.
Indeed, he then proceeded to
inexplicably trip over a stationary minecart, and promptly fainted upon the sight of his own blood. Fortunately for him, this incident excused him from getting involved with the proceedings going on below.
Now, it begins.
First of all, did you know that when you draft woodcutters/miners into an active military squad, they drop their current weapons?
Well I didn’t.....
And so it came to pass that the two miners down the shaft, arguably the best hope to kill the werelizard, dropped their picks. The rest of the dwarves thus decided to emulate a famous military trick – the wrestler bumrush.
The werelizard struck the moment he descended the stairs, pinning down a dwarf with a ferocious grapple. Sharp needle-like teeth sank into the dwarf’s arm who was subsequently shaken apart like a ragdoll. His screams reverberated across the cavern floor.
It was quickly thrown back by some of the other recruits, who were sensibly keeping their distance from the monstrosity.
Ah, but a werelizard is a cunning beast. With razor-quick reflexes, it manages to get in a sharp bite on someone's arm before crashing to the ground.
It was at this point that the battle seemed to turn; the bumrush was at full force, and the dwarves were raining blows after blows upon the prone werelizard. The beast was constantly being knocked off its feet, barring it from launching a suitable offensive.
The poor lad, the first victim - he had succumbed to his injuries. With his limbs torn and twisted at various joints, it was as painful a death as one could get.
A second victim soon follows. He bleeds out during the fracas.
Alas, combat is a fickle mistress. It was perhaps that second death that marked the changing of the tide; the werelizard began fighting back, slowly at first.
But soon with deadly accuracy and strength. Lone Zuglarkun bravely fights against the beast – even as it rips apart her muscles and tendons.
Her spirit alone is not enough. She eventually succumbs to her wounds.
Triumphant, the werelizard towers over the bodies of its foes, most of which are either dead, unconscious or preoccupied with the bleeding process. One last dwarf is on his feet – the speardwarf, he who has served in battles before. Damn, he thought, what would I give for a proper weapon at this time.
It enjoys toying with its prey, the speardwarf realised. The constant gashes did nothing to soften his stoic battle pose, but at the back of his mind, he was already resigned to his fate as a military man. No panic, no screaming, just the sweet cold embrace of Mother Death.
SwishIn a split second, the werelizard throws itself aside as a bismuth bronze pick scythed through the air.
That’s right guys, I finally got me to pick up my pickaxe! It took very careful burrow designations, and even then the one other miner just ignored his pick. Now, back to your regularly scheduled program of werebeast FUN.
Bearskie was good with a pick, but the werelizard was far more agile than any lump of rock. It ducked under the next swing, and managed to latch onto Bearskie’s stomach. Ohh yess…. the sweet taste of blood.
Silly dwarf, trying to bite me. Now I show him how to bite. Nasty dwarf full of fat-
Bearskie staggered backwards, released from the flailing werelizard’s bite. He could sense the burning hatred in its eyes as it hissed and clambered after him…
It was then that a wrestler, lying on the floor, saw the importance of keeping the overseer alive, bastard though he was. So he fixed an iron grip onto the werelizard’s foot, pulling the beast down towards the ground with him, and screamed as the beast devoured his flesh.
And the beast screamed back.
But try as hard as he could, the wrestler could not maintain his feeble grip on the beast any longer, leaving it free to go after Bearskie. It was not a timewaster.
So it was that the only dwarf with a weapon crumpled to the ground, unable to withstand the pain no more.
The werebeast stumbled faintly over the dying dwarves, who could offer no more resistance to their fate.
And then it bled to death.
Woo.
Cool story, eh.
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Topic: // Fall of the Succession Tower: Constructivory \\ (Read 278608 times)