The Events of the 24th of Granite, 1080Part 1
"I thought the elves were dead, 'side from our squatters." Dojango asked. He chewed around a stalk of ratweed, working it methodically into pulp.
"The elves are all dead," Cokho said slowly. "For thousands of miles, far as I'm told."
"Then what is coming up the road?"
Dojango shaded his eyes with the flat of his hand, taking a long look at the small procession leading its way up the stone road. They trundled up the path, stooped elves leading malnourished camels by simple ropes. Their heads were kept downwards, their feet barely lifting off the stones with each shuffle. They seemed trapped in time, in a dream, just going through motions.
"They look like marionettes, Co-.. Cokho?"
But the hauler had vanished. His brows knitting, Dojango turned back to the road, a curious feeling welling up from his gut. One of the camels snorted, and bucked, tugging hard on its reigns. The Elf leading it didn't pull back - no, instead, it seemed to get jerked, the body going limp, yanked backwards. And then he saw it skitter, the elf as loose as cloth, scrambling sideways through the sand like a spider, the camel shrieking and striking with its fore-hoofs.
The Elf in the back seemed to sink into itself, the body seeming to dissolve at the middle, great gouts of smoke - of burning blood and hair - beginning to come from its eyes. And then the skin at the face sloughed, and then at the back, as wings unfurled. As claws came forth. As the singing began.
Dojango had a brief instant as their singing started to remember the word "horror" as the camels began to burst into flames and blood, before he was lost to himself. It was much later that he came too, hunkered behind barrels at the gate, hearing the cacophony from outside and within.
***
"THEY'RE KILLING THE CATS!"
"What."
Maggarg looked up from the table, his beard matted and sticky. He blinked, trying to bring Merkil into focus, trying to get figure out what was said.
"Who are killing the cats. We eat cats."
"We're under attack, get your weapons, the goblins have arrived!"
"But what about the cats."
"They've been blowing them up. They're laughing, and they're blowing them up, there's just burning pieces everywhere."
***
Jools found himself pinned under the cloven hoof of one of the monstrosities. The beast slavered and gnashed at the air, relishing that he had a ring of witnesses, cowering Dwarves afraid to move past him and into the bowels of the fortress, preening before them. The saliva burned like fire when it landed on Jools' face, and he struggled underneath it, trying to fight free.
The beast lifted up it's great hands, holding them high above it. The air seemed to solidify, seemed to become heavier, more solid. It began to heat, began to swirl, grains of sand whirling about in a concentrating pocket of energy. A spark here. A flicker there. And a ball of fire. The goblin-thing sang, it's voice a thousand voices, its hands clasping the bundle of manifest hate.
And then it exploded. The legs slumped as the upper torso was smashed across the fortress, exploding into gore when it collided with a wall. Splattered with stinking, burning entrails, Jools looked upon himself in relieved horror. He was lifted to his feet by his squad commander Mosus, the older Dwarfs face set into a granite mask of irritation.
"Get your sword and get out, soldier. You're not to lie down until either they're all dead or we are!"
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Topic: Migrursut: What Comes After The World Ends? [Epilogue] (A Community Fort) (Read 390248 times)