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Author Topic: [Short Story] The Tale of Atherlurosh, "Ringwraith"  (Read 2210 times)

knaveightt

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[Short Story] The Tale of Atherlurosh, "Ringwraith"
« on: April 11, 2014, 10:36:12 pm »

Explanation:
I decided to post this product because it started out as a simple "I'm just going to play this fortress" and just ended in glorious stupidity.  :) The goal was to play-through a Masterwork fortress on my own and chronicle the game in the spirit of previous "LPs" as a single overseer... but after a "few drinks" and a bit of !!FUN!!... well... it's a nice little tale. Unfortunately I don't have this save anymore since it was on another person's computer. Maybe I can still salvage it, but it made for a good cliffhanger. Excuse the verbosity of the introduction... I really thought this was going to last longer lol.

I also wish I took more screenshots, or thought to cap them in ASCII. You must excuse me on this... I was not quite right in the head at that time lol  :P Enjoy!

The Tale of Atherlurosh, "Ringwraith"
======================================================================
The World of Cyclones
Svet Cykl’n is a wonderful place, most times. From what I have gathered, we only scavenged recorded historical events for the past two centuries, but by Armok! They are fantastic tales! I remember growing up in the mountainhomes hearing the stories of great warriors, devilish undead, and savage Minotaur amongst the other dwarven children in the grandeur of our great dining halls; engravings and renditions of these epics dancing around our chiseled walls and impressionable minds. Maybe that is why I evolved to the restless dwarf I am today. Definitely not right in the head, but who can be when your main diet is the best dwarven ale on this side of the Continent of Castles. Aye, so much has already carved its mark into our good lands’ earth… almost too much. Tales of fallen outposts and the legendary struggles of overseers such as myself have always seemed to flow with the winds of Svet Cykl’n. Perhaps that is why they call this world the World of Cyclones.

My name is Urist Kansvdof. I am an overseer from the dwarven mainland Lor Balad (which translates to “The Tool of Coiling” in human-speak, don’t ask me why). I was charged with accompanying a caste of 7 dwarves with various skills to set an output in the southern parts of the Continent of Castles. It is not in my job description to know the circumstances that require these actions on my part, but the political gossip points to the need to establish a strategic point against the Warlocks. We have traveled for several weeks from Lor Balad to our place of establishment outside the “Thunderous Jungles”. As we traveled South, I became more distressed as our group saw any trace of beloved mountains wane in the distance. But alas, dwarven luck I suppose. By order of our King, we are to make an outpost smack-dab in the middle of these untamed wilds. It is flat. Literally flat. No mountains, no hills, nothing but damp clay soil and pools of water. Figures. Our maps indicate that we are certainly in our place of settlement, so I will start this journal of recordkeeping to chronicle our mission of construction.  Unfortunately, we can’t even name the land we set our foot upon, for it already has a label given to it by the local Frogmen many decades past. I suppose it’s time to dig. We will worry about building “up” once we establish a fancy home for ourselves underground. With that, I welcome you to Output Atherlurosh, also known as “Ringwraith”.

The Foundations of “Ringwraith”
Early Spring, 1st Granite 201
So we have begun our trek into this damp earth. We're carving out quaint little places for ourselves since our stay will not be anything short of 'extensive'. Workload has started slow, so until we have our first tunnels carved out I've had the chance to formally meet this crew. I am ashamed to say that my first impression of this caste was that of a disgruntled group of misfits initially unwilling to endure the hardships of starting a new colony. I am definitely wrong in this assumption, for these dwarves are of the utmost professional quality. Shocked as I initially was to meet a group of dwarves freely willing to confront this mission, they are true dwarves and I am definitely pleased. A quick run-down of the roster:

Cilob Gintarmorul – Resident Miner, Female
Lolor Cattennonub – Resident Miner, Male
Mothram Vakunsakzul – Resident Miner, Female
Umom Stakudakuth – Carpenter and Woodcrafter, Male
Feb Zuglaratis – Farmer and Cook, Female
Unib Shistsakedir – Farmer and Herbalist, Female
Tekkud Sengikul – Established Expedition Leader, Female

All our dwarves have excellent skills in their established trade. This will definitely be used to our advantage. As our miners were digging out our tunnels, I had the chance to have a word with Tekkud. As an expedition leader, she is to take my place of overseer if I am ever unable to complete my duties, and once the output is inspected by our nobles at Lor Balad, she it to become the outpost commander. She is a very... blunt and aggressive individual. She had decided that our initial group should be called the “Stake of Misting.” Something about establishing our foundation or support or whatnot in the jungle edges; I didn’t argue with her, she will fill the role nicely. Otherwise, each dwarf in themselves has nothing else too noteworthy. I heard from our expedition managers before we embarked that Umom is an ex-member of the mountainhomes Guard Guild. That makes me feel a little safer knowing we have a combat-experienced dwarf as one of our members. Although, I'm not quite sure why he may have disbanded from them to become a woodcutter... the guild usually have a pretty leisurely life in Lor Balad after the mandatory training years.

I will update from time to time as things happen. Otherwise, it is time to lay down the workshops and start creating a self-sustaining outpost in these flatlands.

20th Granite, 201
Vengeful howling was abundant early this morning as a large pack of coyotes were spotted on the southern edge of our colonizing space! Quite a large pack, we counted 7 or 8 of those bastard canines scattering across the river with a smaller group of creatures at their tails. Turns out we have lachmates among us! Damn Ringwraith, what a place to start colonizing! These particular lots are on the larger scale as far as hazards go. For those of you who spend the entirety of your years in the mountainhomes, lachmates are repulsive collections of sentient, slimy masses, resembling nothing more than an ambulatory rubbish heap. These things are covered in leaves and other trash with small extensions of their ooze within forming feelers that grab at their surroundings. Disgusting lots they are. A few of those giant balls of snot latched onto two of the coyotes and tore them apart...

Unfortunately, those two coyotes didn’t stand a chance. We will be keeping watch of this coyote pack and the roaming lachmates very carefully, for they are just beyond the southern river. We need to hurry and secure our safe lodgings so we do not have to worry about these buggars.

Unexpected Guests
Late Spring, 23rd Felsite 201
Curses!! Were we put here to die? Our female farmer cook Feb came rushing into my office with word that we were being ambushed by Ogres? What the hell is wrong with this place?! Feb and I ran out to the main entrance in time to see Lolor fleeing from one of three ogres coming down the entrance ramp. Unfortunately the Ogre charged with a mighty roar and swung at the isolated miner. Lolor was able to duck under the mountain of an arm swung at him, when the ogre followed through and managed to grab Lolor by the left foot. Being picked up, Lolor slashes open the ogre’s left hand and was promptly dropped back on the floor. Trying desperately to stay out of reach of the ogre’s grasp, Lolor took a horribly solid hit right in the shin and was knocked over stunned at the entrance.
I screamed an executive order that all personnel should take cover in the farming tunnel immediately. I choked almost instantly however, as the ogre smashes Lolor into the ramp. Lolor did not get up. He did not move. I couldn’t believe what my eyes just witnessed... I was frozen, completely unable to move. Luckily Feb was there to pull me back as we made our way to the main staircases. She… saved my life. Umom and Tekkud arrived at the entrance ramps from the outside after hearing the screams. Umom, with a complete look of disgust at the scene laid before him threw highly audible insults (which I dare not say of what nature) at the ogre in our main tunnel- drawing  just enough attention for Tekkud to slip by behind it and start making her way to the main staircases like the rest of us. The ogre seemed to be put into a blinding rampage and made its way to our carpenter workshop and wood stockpiles, probably as a result of its arm and wrist spewing crimson blood. Umom ran after it down the hallway as Tekkud inched closer to the stairwells.

Umom engages the first ogre as the other two make their way inside the fortress toward the trading depot.


<bloody pages are torn from this book. the next journal entry becomes more legible down the page>

…. Crawling to the carpen….. …… ood stockpiles. The ogr….. makes it… …wnstairs.
…e put together wh…. eapons we can find and char….
…try to outnumber the ogre and catch it by surprise. We all charge as it makes its way in the farming tunnel. Cilob cries out in the name of Lolor and manages to rip some muscle off the ogre’s arm. Staring to get the upper hand…
<barely legible quick scribble follows>

The ogre flees in a panic… We’ve almost got it… It leads us back upstairs… into a trap. The rest of the ogre party was waiting for us…
<multiple pages are too bloody to read>

…legs broken. Depot and workshops destroyed. Almost no one is alive. Except UMOM. UMOM has hobbled over to the ogre and WILLNOT GO DOWN UNTIL ONE OF THEM IS DEAD…

…everything is going dark… we are surly lost…

… but… do I hear voices from outside? Do I hear… migrants…?



Early Summer, 201
I have arrived with the rest of the migrants to an output called “Ringwraith”. While we were originally here to help the initial caste of dwarves setup a simple lookout outpost, we arrived at some entrance ramps to see the walls and floors covered with ogre and dwarf blood. At the bottom of the ramps, we are greeted with a body of a miner… and a sad dwarf of a dwarf at the end of an outstretched tunnel yelling vulgar remarks as he continually bashes the toes of an exhausted ogre. The migrants in my alarmed squad immediately move to engage and help the dying dwarf soldier… although none of us really have any military training. I myself also run to help, but I was stopped by what looked like the original overseer, screaming at me from the ground. He manages enough strength to throw a tattered tome in my face telling me to “WRITE IT DOWN. WRITE IT ALL DOWN. THEY MUST KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE.” The overseer then collapses with a final breath. So I kneel here at the entrance, chronicling anything and everything I can write as fast as dwarvenly possible. The migrants have just arrived at the site of the skirmish.
The migrants surround the ogre, and immediately knock it unconscious. Falling to the ground from exhaustion, the terribly injured dwarf claims, “There are more… But let it be known… that on this day… the first them, ‘Torchedreclusive’ has kissed the earth in shame….” The brave soldier then accepts his life’s end in peace, a copper chopping axe clenched proudly in his bloody hand.
The struggle was long and hard. The ogre would regain and lose consciousness. The migrants worked for hours in bludgeoning the ogre due to a lack of true weapons, and dodging the haphazard blows of this large, ridiculous beast. And after much toiling… the migrant group manages to destroy Torchedrecusive once and for all!!
We will clean these halls with honor. We will rebuild ourselves with pride. We will gather the remaining members of the Stake of Misting and nurse them to health. But first, the migrants and I step out of the fortress to the nearby pond and wash ourselves off. We noticed two other ogres that have run out of the fortress, heading in the opposite directions. I had one of my dwarves scouts the halls of the fortress, reporting back that there are no remaining ogres left inside, thank Armok. We have two members of the Stake of Misting left – one lady named Mothram who, sad to say, is in extremely bad shape. And another who… just… might survive. She is unconscious, but her necklaces are inscribed with the name “Feb”…

Welcome to Dwarf Fortress
Late Summer, 14th Galena 201
My name is Urist Seasvothrom of Lor Balad. Our mountainhomes are also known as “The Tool of Coiling” , although I never quite got that one. I have instructed my migrants to start setting up hospital beds in the hopes of saving the surviving members of the Stake of Misting. I will follow the wishes of the previous overseer and chronicle the events of this outpost. We start to assess what repairs need to be made… when I hear familiar roars from the southern river…
WHHHHAAATTT? Did these ogres have fucking wives!?? BY ARMOK, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS PLACE!?

<the rest of the journal pages are lost.>




-- MUST BE DWARF FORTRESS --


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SchmittLenin

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Re: [Short Story] The Tale of Atherlurosh, "Ringwraith"
« Reply #1 on: April 11, 2014, 11:45:19 pm »

Well the name has been well chosen at least; It certainly reminded me of that moment in Lord Of The Ring, you know, when we learn that Balin and the other dwarves there had so much !!FUN!!
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