So long ago. So very long.
Ancient heroes fought great evils in the hallowed halls Headshoots, and something had stirred in those places. It defiled the soul of a mighty hero, from whom was birthed legions forged from the spirits of dwarves both living and dead that tore through the continent of West Everoc. The wars waged by these monsters were always long, brutal, and seemed to never end in a decisive victory for either side.
As one of these hordes fell upon the southern glacier claimed by the dwarves of Syrupleaf, a shift had occurred in the winds of magic. The god of gods observed them. Soon, after years of terror and blood, the evil creatures finally bested the ancient heroes who defended it.
Heroes like Sirrocco, Nemo, Tehsid, Daeren, and Royal W.
And many countless other unsung and forgotten heroes of many races, all died at their claws and their maws. Theirs was a sacrifice of blood for their people, and all were welcomed into the grand hall of the allfather Armok. But tragically, one was denied.
She Who Hungers, the mother of these legions.
Holistic Detective.
She lead her hordes to war, and many were the holds that were lost. But while the chaos and death she caused was a delight to the powers that be, she had started to strangle life from the land. And this could not be allowed. For now, many were the monuments that would see no further use, and warriors who would no longer be able to spill the blood of others, and the god of gods was displeased.
Armok instructed the gods of this world to beat Holistic Detective into submission, and lock it away with the other demons of the underworld. And so it was.
The wars continued of course, and many desperate folk began at last to flee. Men, Elves, Dwarves, Goblins. All fled in all directions. The elves took to the skies on the backs of their flying friends, the Men by sea, the Dwarves and Goblins making treaties of convenience to cross great expanses of the underdark, beset on all sides by horrors unimaginable.
Many of these brave refugees and pioneers died. But even more arrived in a new land, a new world... East Everoc.
The lands were lush, untapped, and exceedingly deadly. Blood that smelled of burnt bacon fell from the skies and clouds of roiling death choked many forests and plains. There were the undead of course, but that was nothing new to the peoples of West Everoc. But the giant beasts, hostile tribes of animal men, and a race of angry and tall bearded menfolk who lived in frigid climes and mountains proved to be daunting foes to face. But, nonetheless, they prospered.
Centuries passed, and while West Everoc was only just beginning to claw its way back to civilization, an old foe was seen crawling from the mountain caves. Cruel alters raised in the center of dark hollowed caves running with magma formed the basis of sprawling hives of the evil. Someone, or something, had unleashed it. And so war came to the world again on a great scale. But where the ancients had turned to machines and magma to face these foes, their descendants had decided they could trust not their walls and traps.
As the wars raged and many died, great powers also stirred. Time and space were crushed before the might of even the Allfather, and the divines could only lend their aid to those they supported as the great Corporations that arose from the ashes of West Everoc went to war against eachother. cybernetic killers, towering monsters, necromancers, and alien warriors formed the initial waves of the conflict, and soon genetically engineered horrors and advanced war machines were pitted against armored flying machines and stalwart professional warriors wielding the arms of an ancient age.
Others would be dragged into this second war. Small companies and nations, manipulated by a great schemer who ultimately met his end to his own hubris and the carefully crafted machinations of disloyal underlings. But in the end, all would be ravaged by the conflict, and left broken shells in the end for decades afterwards.
New heroes would come from these great and terrible wars as a result. Dauros, Vanya, Draignean, Urist, Hans, PaintBrushTurkey, Lefton, and perhaps the most important of them, Fischer. Some like PaintBrushTurkey, Vanya, and Draignean are now venerated as great heroes centuries still later. Others, however, Dauros and Fischer, are regarded by some as gods. And there is some truth to this.
As for some, Even in Death they still serve.
In the centuries following their passing, the hordes broke. some turned on themselves, as if the dwarves within these monsters had regained control and lashed out against those who had not. Others dissolved as they suddenly appeared directionless. In a matter of decades, hordes of tens of thousands, were reduced to barely greater in number than the infantry companies of many human kingdoms.
Unbeknownst to all, Armok had finally been able to unleash upon the great demon his mightiest champions in a great torrent of doom. She who struck the killing blow being perhaps the foe who hated her most in the remaining scraps of recorded history from so long ago.
With the thrust of a pike, the demon was no more, and Armok made this champion of champions the new protector of her descendants in the beardkin. To the others, they were granted their right to a final rest in his halls, or to become gods themselves.
The threat of the great devourer, all at once, collapsed. New larvae were born warped and mutated, and other dark creatures and mad wizards would take both dead and living spawn and meld them together, while still others ran loose in the caverns, growing to immense scale feeding on the massive beasts within.
They had gone from the stuff of region-spanning wars, to just... Well, a fact of life like any other wild beast. Albeit one that could sometimes amass sufficient numbers to attack fortified settlements and level smaller ones, for a time. But they were a fact of life all the same.
Before long, he peoples of the land were expanding again, and this time no warring corporations or hordes of demons would slow them. Ours is but one such tale of these expansion.
Ours is the tale,
of Braveworks.
Hail, Fellow Drunken Jerks!
Welcome, at long last after years of discussion, modding, more modding, more discussion, and planning, to the sequel that I didn't want Spearbreakers to have, Braveworks! Because all Glory to the Hivemind, lackluster intro be damned.
Anyway, we live centuries after the events of Spearbreakers, making it, Syrupleaf, and Headshoots an increasingly foggy memory to all. We als can see the signs of many of the past events - Ballpoint and Parasol agents now struggle to make their way in the world, unable to return home as the schematics for the gates needed are long since lost to them.
Add in goblins still being dicks, mutant spawn roaming around, and the potential for war with people toting guns able to obliterate a champion warrior with one shot, and let's just say the world isn't much cheerier than it used to be. Anyway, on with the show!
EMBARK
We're pretty far to the south, and reasonably close to what I assume are the goblins. We live in an evil marshland.
And shouldn't be trusted with maps to reach livable mountains.
Our supplies, expanded only enough to give us enough food and drink plus the materials for a three dwarf squad with some coke to spare.
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Topic: Spearbreakers II "The Return of The Mug" - Braveworks [43.05] (Read 84756 times)