Epilogue
The goblin scribbled on the intricate stone floor with a piece of charcoal in his hand. The poor wretch had since forgotten how long he’d inhabited in these ruins. Months, years, decades perhaps; time wasn’t something that he could comprehend anymore. He spent his waking moments either searching the halls for rats to eat or drawing the images that plagued his mind. His clothes amounted to a tattered loincloth that was covered in filth and stained from years of wear. He was scrawny, emaciated, and his left arm had been hewn off just below the shoulder. It had healed into a hideous looking mass of scar tissue. The bones in his right foot had broken during his attach on the fortress and without treatment, had healed incorrectly, living him with a limp. Blisters covered his feet and knees.
Every day the goblin would scribble images onto the walls and floors of the fallen fortress. He would create drawings of entire worlds collapsing into themselves, of black voids filled with eyes and tongues, and of eldritch symbols that would drive even the most wizened scholar insane. However, his most intricate work was found in the dining hall.
Thirty three short, stocky figures danced around a writhing mass of tendrils, teeth, and eyes. Each of the figures had horns, or hooves, or claws. All of them were trapped inside a thick sphere that was surrounded by blackness. A single line ran above the figures to a drawing of Deathgate’s entrance and just beneath said entrance was a representation of Upper Deathgate. The entire image resembled a cross section of the earth. Upon the surface were bodies of goblins and men.
“Aaaaa…” his voice was raspy and weak.
For a moment, the goblin stopped his work, stood up, and stared at the drawings that dominated the once glorious dining hall. Slowly the goblin glanced around the room at broken, blood stained furniture and the rotted bones of his brethren. The goblin seemed terrified for a moment before the glimmer of sanity vanished, replaced by the madness as it returned.
Not long after the dwarves sealed themselves away from the world, a goblin invasion finally managed to breach the fortress, only to become trapped inside. Unable to escape, they died one by one of starvation, injury, and finally cannibalism. Anyone that managed to enter the accursed fortress never left it. Eventually, no sane individual dared to approach the fortress. Even the demons themselves feared the final stronghold of the dwarves. For an untold time, the only inhabitant of the fortress was the single, sickly goblin and the rats he hunted.
But the goblin knew. He knew he was not alone. Beneath his feet, behind walls of stone and oceans of magma, the dwarves still lived; lived in the embrace of their hungry god.
Once again, the goblin scribbled on the intricate stonework with a piece of charcoal in his hand…
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Topic: Deathgate - And We Must Scream (Finished Succession Game) (Read 866544 times)