Technical note: We have now upgraded from 0.31.04 to 0.31.06, with the new raws being copied into the save folder for whatever that's worth, and I'll likely continue to do so from now unless an update seriously breaks this fort.
Technical note #2: For best performance, play the yackety sax through this entire entry. It deserves it.212
ck up and where do you think you're going?" Fourguts demands. You ignore him and sprint back upstairs. Once you reach the stockpiles you toss your pick away and turn around. You don't need your pick to save the dwarves. You are, in equal parts,
that badass and also terrified of the arsenal dwarf finding out you were fighting with an unregistered weapon.
You storm down the stairwell and out into the caverns. Dwarves are fleeing towards the outpost and main fort. A mason has fallen dead in a pool of blood. You can hear angry, sleepy grumbling from nearby. You charge deeper into the caverns until you spot the troll. Its hands are around the cook's neck, still tiredly choking it. You let out a yell and slam your fist into the troll's face. It barely blinks and ignores you. You unleash a barrage of furious punches that all slide off, while the troll's hands only tighten.
It occurs to you that you've seen no trace of the jabberer. You're barely allowed the slimmest degree of relief before something much, much worse floats in to sight.
In only the loosest sense the beast might be said to resemble a hummingbird. Its girth is gigantic and it stares deeply into your soul without eyes. Its patchy amber hide undulates rhythmically, playing out your death knell. A twisting trunk juts out from its face, sniffing the air towards you. Somehow just by sight you know its name: Rubal, the forgotten beast.
The troll yawns and continues wringing out the cook's throat.
You ignore Rubal's impossible gaze and throw all your energy into kicking and punching. Putrid bruises form over the troll's skin but not a single blow can break it. Rubal floats closer to you then stops, as if some dim interest holds it momentarily from destroying you.
Your struggle continues for hours. You, punching. The troll, strangling. Rubal, watching. Your mouth is dry but you dare not break away. A brief flicker of colour in the corner of your eye marks the arrival and immediate inexplicable retreat of Fourguts' military. The troll is nauseous from your continuous blows but heals even as you attack. Some time later several recruits return again. Still carrying training axes.
"I'm going to combat training!" Vabok announces cheerfully as she joins your side. Her wooden weapon proves no more effective than your fist. The cook grumbles at both of your noise before slumping to face the other direction. The troll readily interrupts his rest with two curled hands. You know. Again.
Battle cries sound behind you. You risk a glance and see several more recruits rushing to join you - one even holding an 'axetual' weapon - until Rubal blocks their path. The beast hums furiously, teeth and claws and wings all swirling and gnashing and bleeding and rage. The recruits fight back bravely, deflecting blows and striking hard. Yet with every blow their attacks bounce off with no more than a bruise. Then a dwarf arm goes flying with an agonising scream.
"This makes me miserable!" the dwarf whines as they clutch their stump. Rubal calms down and floats away, again watching you from a short distance. The other recruits reform to join the attack on the troll.
Blow after blow lands on the monster, but nothing penetrates. The troll grunts deeply and crushes its hands together in response. Finally, FINALLY after days of resisting, the cook suffocates.
"Dwarves are the whales of the mountains," Vabok notes thoughtfully. You swear and attack the troll with renewed vigour. One recruit breaks away, only to run straight into Rubal. The dwarf and the beast exchange rapid blows as they move around the cavern. You're not sure who is chasing who, but neither sustain real wounds.
Hours pass. In the background you notice civilians creeping back in on tiptoes to bring back corpses and mostly gems. You think you recognise Fourguts and glance over to-
CRACK.Extreme pain screams through your leg and you stagger backwards with sudden consciousness. A reduced military are determinedly striking at Rubal. The troll is gone. No blood. It must have escaped. You pull yourself upright, roar, and leap at Rubal.
A chilling scream echoes from elsewhere in the cavern, followed by the bellow of a rutherer. You pay it no attention, focused only on dodging and countering every swinging blow that comes your way. You're tired, thirsty, hungry, unhappy but even the dwarf with one arm refuses to surrender while you have two and will
not let this beast escape alive!
You dive towards Rubal and uppercut the bastard in what you hope amounts to the beast's genitals. Rubal hums loudly and bites at you, but in that moment a recruit swings their training axe upwards and crunches into the beast's trunk. Rubal reels as its trunk suddenly hangs broken and useless. You laugh and swing again. All that faces dwarves are mortal. You can win this.
"This sure is a strong training dummy, don't you think?" Vabok wonders curiously. "It
eeaech!" Her body falls dead next to the cook's. You let out a cry and waver slightly.
"Don't lose faith!" a young axedwarf yells, hacking and bruising Rubal's left wing.
"Oh god my throat is cut open we're all going die tell Shem I loved her," another whispers, clutching their neck and attacking weakly with a single hand.
"Don't lose blood!" the axedwarf quickly corrects. Moments later Rubal's humming crescendos and the axedwarf is struck down. You keep on punching past the horror and the flying limbs and your skin is so pale but you won't let it get away with this no no NO!
Another faint scream, this time carried through the roof itself. The rutherer must be loose in your fortress. You desperately strike Rubal's skin but somehow everything is healed. Only the trunk droops uselessly. It shows weakness; we can kill it! Then you look around and realise that you're the only dwarf left standing.
The humming slows. You can hear every beat of its wings, feel every pulse of its toxic blood. See its claws latching onto your arm. Smell the blood of your comrades flicked through the air with every single useless struggle you make. Jarring pain shoots up your arm and you're flying and then its gone and all you can see is the distant ceiling and the blood and the blood and oh the blood.
What a fool you were. But in the end, a brave fool. Maybe even a glorious one.
Maybe it mattered.
The En-
"No," a voice cuts in. Calm, but only as the eye of a cyclone. "Not after what you've done. You don't GET to die."
Turn to page 108.
Author
Topic: Choose Your Own DF - Goblin Blight Island (Read 43266 times)