The long route North
Written by Kadok TwistedMind - Summer 48
I remember that I quickly packed my things. I anticipated the journey ahead to be quite long, and so, I brought many supplies. Most importantly, as the weather would be quite rough and cold in the frozen North - even though it it Summer - I fattened my bag with many barrels of booze, a non-freezing liquor, that would proove priceless in both keeping me quenched and my moral high.
I wrote a map of my expected path to KingdomSabre. It would be a week long journey. At best.
I would leave from here, HallFlanks. None of the dwarves here share Spriggans' optimism, so I will leave alone.
I would cross the forgotten jungles nearby, and reach PlainMannor - a fortress abandonned 40 years ago - hopefully finding things there.
Then I would head North until I reached the base of the Dabbling Horn, which I would climb to its top.
From there, I would be able to see KingdomSabre, go there, and the long route would be done.
I decided to leave at dawn. Quickly. As anticipating the road ahead made me sometimes wish to give up.
I kept Spriggans' letter in my backpack, in case I would forget its content... Or doubt the purpose of my quest.
The first days of my journey I spent in the Perfect Jungles. A dense region full of nasty creatures.
I consider myself very lucky to have made my way through. At night, I heard beasts breathing in the dark, waiting for my vigilance to fade out.
I got attacked several times. But each time, my warrior's training saved my life. One night, a cougar jumped on me. My axe quickly silenced him.
But I needed support. I was in hope to find some sturdy companions in PlainMannor soon.
After two days of wandering the oppressing jungle, I reached the outpost of PlainMannor.
This is at this point that, I believe, my mind started deteriorating.
The oupost was located in a basaltic sand hill near some black mountains. It had been officially abandonned for more than 40 years, so I anticipated some decadence there. But I was far from the truth.
Laying on the ground were the founders of this outpost. Seven dead dwarves were there. Some had their skeleton turned white, polished by the wind, and scattered with their long dead pets' body parts. The dead's blood soaked the soil, pitching the basaltic sand dark red.
At this point, I almost lost consciousness, as I saw three of the supposed dead dwarves moving and emmiting sounds, as if they were trying to talk to me.
Their bodies were mangled beyond recognition. One of them could not even walk, and the others had gruesome wounds.
I guess my brain decided to erase the memory of the conversation I had with these daft dwarves.
That was too frightening. I can't make up the details.
The only things I can recall is that they told me they survived the goblinic attacks by imitating their dead brethren.
These dwarves were dim witted. And I really mean it. They used a language that was hard to understand, and thought of me as a God.
I seized this opportunity. I told the two strongest retarded to follow me on a quest. They agreed loudly. I left the crippled behind, he would have been too burdensome.
Even now, I have chills down my spine trying to picture these dwarves who acted as deads for 40 years long. Laying on bare sand doing nothing while their mind wittered.
The good point is that I now have two companions with me, to keep the beasts at bay when the night is the darkest.
I resumed my journey with my inconceivable followers. As stupid as they were, they played their role, and provided safe shelter during the nights against whatever creatures would lurk.
In a handful of days, I arrived at the feet of the mountain.
Behind these high rocks, would stand KingdomSabre.
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Topic: Succession world: df 2017 : A new start (Read 128889 times)