Circa 26th HematiteIn an effort of preparation to face that pit of evil that lies in Deepvaulted, I communed with the Mighty One again several days ago. Perhaps it was due to the blood I shed, perhaps a result of my most recent penance before Him, but He showed no disappointment in me for fleeing, but rather gave me purpose anew – a list of names and locations, of beasts born before the world itself was forged upon His anvil. He commanded me to go forth to these benighted places, and to strike down the beasts that dwell there that I may hone my skills further.
Their images flare in my mind even now, as I cross the plains and grassy hills: a vast vulture carved from precious gem; a massive humanoid forged of burnished bronze, its fists dripping with fresh, crimson blood; a pair of bestial creatures, dwelling deep within burrows. Others, too – their forms are ever-shifting and impossible to pin down, changing in my mind’s eye from one second to the next. He shall lead me to hunt them in time.
That, I must trust in, for I see the form of that first great beast upon the horizon.
Titans, it is said, were among the very first creatures to be forged upon His anvil of creation. Mighty and of countless different forms, from warped mockeries of His form to birds and even shapeless blobs, they are known for their power, their resilience, and their bloodthirsty rampages across the course of history. Many lived in fear of their lust for murder, paying tribute to the great beasts in hope that their settlements would be spared their depredations.
Before him was the form of one such Titan – an enormous vulture formed entirely from roughly-textured rose quartz, a long, scorpion-like stinger tail arising from its rear. Its great beak was open in a defiant caw of anger, its great, smooth wings spread wide as though about to dive. Countless little coins and scraps of metal from previous adventurers lay about on the floor, the trophies of the monster’s past triumphs.
It would have been a fierce sight, were it not quite unmistakably dead.
This, Lonelythrall silently remarked to himself,
was just embarrassing.The Titan had barely put up a fight against him, even with his normal hammer sheathed. Its knee had buckled at a single stab from his pike, a strike which barely chipped the gemstone of the leg. Its wings of smoothed gems were as paper against his second strike – a single chip in the right wing mid-flight had sent it spiralling out of control, to crash in an undignified heap upon the sandy ground.
With its mobility lost, it had tried to sting him, push him, grab him with its remaining foot – every blow was telegraphed, every one avoided or blocked with contemptuous ease. He had almost been bored by the time he struck the beast down, driving his pike into its chest and letting its massive frame collapse in a cloud of dust and shattered quartz. The last pack of half-starved Giant Dingoes had put up more of a fight than this!
Shaking his head, Lonelythrall turned away from the Titan’s fallen form and began to trek into the plains once again.
Privately, he hoped whatever beast He directed him to next would be a greater challenge – a thought He seemed to share, going by the faint pulse of disappointment at the back of his mind.
(Illegible date), Hematite 718Killed two more Night Trolls that made the mistake of ambushing His champion. One was missing its right arm from the elbow down. Easy prey, even with its resilience.
The other was more dangerous. It forced me into a corner – kept me incapable of wielding such a large weapon properly. Managed to punch me in the stomach, knocking the wind right out of my lungs.
That was enough for me. I forced it back with a swipe from the pike, then drew Angelbane; damned thing didn’t last long after that, not with its upper spine in several pieces. For all that it raged and roared as I broke its arm and skull apart with my hammer, the damage has not lasted.
But that it was able to land a strike on me at all is… troubling.
Perhaps it was merely chance. More likely was my own foolishness, fighting like a pleasure-hunter rather than as a man dedicated to His edicts.
Penance for that must wait, however. I draw closer to the lair of another beast He has commanded me to hunt – a Bronze Colossus, killer of several dozen adventurers, and a weapon of war crafted by some deranged sorcerer in ages past.
I will write more should I survive this battle. My hammer will be all but useless against it, and thus I must rely on the unfamiliar blade of my pike.
The Mighty One protects.
Lonelythrall crawled through the mud and sand around the Colossus’ shrine, shield in one hand and pike in the other. Unlike the Roc, though, he had no fear of this beast.
The massive brute waited near the centre, still as the stone of a mountain and completely unaware of his presence. It was all muscle and no intellect – even with his scales blending into the night, the Colossus should have been able to see him coming from a mile off.
As he drew back to land the first blow, however, he stopped. There was something coming down from above, something massive –
Lonelythrall leapt out of the way of an immense, descending fist of bronze, letting it speed past him to slam hard into the ground. He charged forwards as soon as it hit the ground, driving his pike deep into the bronze tower of its leg – the divine metal cut through the bronze like it was made of paper, penetrating deep into the metal of the leg. The Colossus gave a great groaning sound, the damaged leg beginning to buckle as its weight was placed upon it.
Once more he ran, skidding out of the way as the statue collapsed to the floor. It was still fighting, though, a massive fist speeding past him as the Colossus attempted to squash the bug biting its ankle. Though its face was no more than an expressionless mask, Lonelythrall was certain he could see it frown as its blow reduced the tree behind him to splinters.
The massive statue, for all its size and durability, was clumsy; its flailing blows were painfully telegraphed and easily avoided, Lonelythrall weaving in between its punches and sweeping legs to strike at its head or its massive lower body. Small chips of bronze broke away with every strike, the pike’s blade not designed to cut through such thick limbs.
A massive fist hammered into the ground a good foot away from him, the fallen statue once more failing to swat the irritating bug that kept striking it. This time, however, Lonelythrall didn’t dart in towards its head. He could see its other fist waiting in reserve, cocked back and ready to strike the moment he moved in.
Instead, he leapt onto the statue’s broad hand itself, running with all his might up the Colossus’ arm. It slapped at itself with its remaining hand, but its blows met only its own bronze, or thin air. Lonelythrall heaved himself up onto the giant’s massive back, cursing under his breath as the bronze beast began to buck and shudder violently, trying to hurl the ant off of its form. Tiny pits provided handholds when he fell, crawling his way up the Colossus’ spine to the massive dome of its head.
Atop the Colossus’ head, he raised his pike high, snarling beneath his helmet as the beast made another spirited attempt to dislodge him.
“For Armok!” He spat, hefting the pike and driving it deep into the metal. The Colossus’ entire form shuddered violently at the blow, so violently that he was forced to cling to the embedded pike to prevent himself being thrown off. His weight only drove it deeper into the head, drawing fresh tremors from the vast golem as its animating magic began to leave it.
Lonelythrall retrieved his pike, sliding down the doomed Colossus’ smooth back as its form began to glow. The metal seemed to be heating up, glowing a dulled red and shifting, collapsing in on itself and slowly reforming into something else entirely. By the time he stood again, leaning slightly on his pike for support, there was nothing left of the Colossus beyond a statue, still glowing a dull orange-red with the heat of its supernatural forging.
He didn’t bother trying to pick it up. Instead, he turned from the purified shrine towards the mountains in the east, eyes narrowing to slits as dawn began to break. The gnawing desire he had come to recognise as His will was returning, and it came from within those mountains.
Without a backwards glance or a moment of rest, he set off once again.
OOC: Yeah, divine metal plus legendary ambusher tends to make fights a bit of a cakewalk, even with a comparatively low pike skill. Embellishing the fights was the only way to make it interesting, as the combat logs were pretty short and consisted mostly of the two Megabeasts missing my adventurer, then dying to a few hits to the head or chest.
Since I seem to be having trouble getting swimmer skill (doesn't show up, even as dabbling, after several attempts to swim in the river) and narrowly escaped getting encased in ice, I'll be taking a peek at Mossdeep. I wonder what we’ll find?
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Topic: Museum III, adventure succession game (DF 0.47.05) (Read 473535 times)