Glazedhallow was a turkey gobbler. In 252 he and others of his kind were brought to a new settlement called Goldencut. Life was good, there were plenty of turkey hens, big pasture and no shortage of food. From time to time few of his kind were eaten by those who brought them here. Sometimes the settlement was attacked by hordes of the dead or goblins. Sometimes they were visited by caravans from distant human and elven civilizations. But Glazedhollow didn't care. His life was almost perfect. Almost. There was one particular turkey hen about which he could not stop thinking. Her name was 'Turkey'. But Glazedhallow was too afraid to open up to her. He lived on his own with his feelings for a while, and finally in a year 256 he decided to tell her. It took way too long for him to realize that it should end one way or another. Luckily for him 'Turkey' was also waiting all that time hiding her feelings. Because life expectancy of a turkey is pretty short, they decided to marry as soon as possible. The ceremony was gorgeous. All of their friends were there, most of them were also named 'Turkey'. Everybody were happy, but little did they know that Goldencut was already surrounded by a huge army of elves. They attacked right in the middle of a ceremony. That was a total chaos, blood and guts everywhere. Those opposed to any life except trees had no mercy. All that Glazedhallow could think of, was how to protect his wife. And suddenly pointy-ears figure appeared right in front of 'Turkey'. Rage filled Glazedhallow's eyes. In the next moment that he remembered, he was standing on top of a dead female elf, covered in blood, continuously pecking her still warm neck. He looked around, and it wasn't a battle, it was a slaughter. There were too much elves. He came closer to 'Turkey', covered her shoulders with his wing, they clung to each other and closed their eyes...
When the dust settled, even more horrible picture was opened: those filthy treehuggers were devouring some of the corpses. And in this mess one would never find the remains of Glazedhallow and his lovely wife 'Turkey'.
A little bit of a context: The Ink of Words is dying civilization of dwarves (they are at war with elves - the cause of their small numbers). In 252 I embarked far away from the main civilization with some turkeys and dogs. After participating in some battles (mostly fleeing) some turkeys and some dogs gained status of historical figures. For easier caging, a lot of turkeys were named 'turkey' using dfhack. In 255 I retired Goldencut and started playing adventurer on the opposite side of the world. Then made another fort on top of an adventurer's site. In 267 I decided to check legends, and found that Goldencut was attacked a couple of times by goblins, with only few animals and visitors killed. But then, elves came, conquered the site, only to abandon it year later. Another finding was that somehow some of the turkeys were married. When I'll get bored with my current fort, I will definitely send an adventurer to check out the ruins of Goldencut.
Author
Topic: The Sad Story of One Brave Turkey (Read 7430 times)