PrologueBreeze in my face. Salty. Like the sea.
Fuck Waves. They lap against my feet.
My head Sand in my boots. Coarse and irritating. It gets everywhere.
Arggghhhh kill me now I hazarded to open an eye, and the moon immediately bore down upon me like a vengeful god. Not ashamed to say I whimpered on the shore like a beaten dog. My head rang like a sore bell. Mental note. Okay, self. Do not ever mix the following eight spirits again in alphabetical order.
- Gutter cruor
- Sewer water
- Fishy… bear wine?
- Cassava bears
- Something purple with little umbrellas in it
- Cabaombol- Fuck it, I can’t even pronounce this
- I think it was a small hamster
- Clear water
Sudden strike of inspiration. What if I mix them
backwards? Mental note. Do try. It’s not as if there was anything worth living for here except for the booze. Fucking Breadbowl. Fuck you, whoever decided to settle here in this forsaken heatstroke land with the giant sign above it screaming HILL OF DEATH. Seriously, what the fucking hell were they thinking.
I think I found a good embark site:
It's the perfect place!
Now, I know what you're thinking! "Should I be worried that it says "The Hill of Death" over there?" But I can assure you, reports of the Hill's Death have been greatly exaggerated. The truth is, it's deathness is not even that death-like! It's more like the hill of deep sleep. And who doesn't enjoy a good sleep now and again?
Dwarves had limited sense of self-preservation, but last time I checked we weren’t outright suicidal. Did they just get a pamphlet saying FRIENDLY GOBLINS NEXT DOOR or MEET THE DRAGONS! God, this place. Perhaps I should just off myself right now. Ocean’s just another in a long line of things that can kill me. Others includes bolt to the brain, dragonfire, falling trees, death by hamster and catapult drawbridge. Come on you sly bastard, just do it already. Do it. Drop it drop it drop i-
“A-hem.”
Ughhhhhh. I knew that voice. That neat, uptight, fourteen-year old voice.
“Have you come to kill me?” I asked hopefully.
“No. In fact, it is within my prerogative to prevent that from occurring.” I opened my eyes to Murphy standing over me. Her mayoral badge glinted in the moonlight. “The Czar wishes to see you.”
“Goddamnit Murph I dint steal the alcohol this time it was all mine can’t you just leave me here to wallow in my own vomit for one fricken day without crawling up my arse...”
Murphy smirked with superiority. “Nope.”
Breeze. Waves. Sand. For a brief moment, it wasn’t that bad. The prospect of meeting nobles tended to put things into perspective. I let out a groan; it was intentionally theatrical, just for Murphy.
“Fine. But you’re gonna have to find my pegleg somewhere, I think I’ve lost it.”
Getting some backstory set up. This is going to be my guy - Ahab Daggerbrass, drunk amputee. Quite the optimistic fellow. Sorry guys, taking awhile with this. I won't be available for next week either so any updates will have to be later.
Dorfings:Also, anyone know that our mayor is a teenager?