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Author Topic: Let's go back to Gripwhips...  (Read 3915 times)

shadenight123

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Let's go back to Gripwhips...
« on: July 18, 2011, 08:26:47 am »

I promised myself i would never turn back again to that place.
I promised it under the full moon and the bloody dead corpse which seconds before had been my only friend in that fortress.
You must understand why i'm writing this, my dear Sarvesh. You must understand that i had to go. I know we had hopes, high ones, too, of entering the Silver mace, the group formed by the other survivors of gripwhips...
But i had to go.
He called to me, you know, he called me. And i had to go. I just couldn't stop myself, really. He was still there...they were all there, like they never died, like the siege, the last one, never came...
It was sad when it happened, twenty and twenty and twenty, which makes sixty enemies. trolls, goblins, mountend goblins...The entrance...barred except for the moat, the other entrances sealed away.
We could have outlasted them. We were selfsufficient.
We could have fought them. We had the blue metal of the heavens. We could have killed them, we had the Four "Copper Crosses" our legendary wielders of weapons.
We could have drowned them, minced them with our traps, we could have sent our dogs and killed them...
What we did...was more than stupid...it was idiotic.
I have to go back now, i know you would have stopped me had i stayed, but i have to go...they call me, all of them, few we were who survived, by luck, coincidence or skill.
Our countess, saved by luck, escaped unscathed with her damn cat, you know, Cog i think was it's name, i saw her, back in the mountain homes, laughing hard and drinking strong and looking for a partner, like a cougar in heat. I shiver thinking it might have been me.
Our captain of the guard...that cursed position, we lost brave men to that position. Each of them, during a siege. it didn't matter that they were decked in adamantine. Or that they were exceptional in their craft of war...they died. Punctually.
Disease, infected wounds, drowning, lucky shots from goblin crossbowers...it was cursed, and i refused it, maybe that's what kept me alive.
But i have to go back, and i know that when i'll see Vodromsh, or Vordosh, or what his name is, i will have arrived.
That Deer was a savage and brutal killer. Maimed he did those he could, killed those who weren't lucky. We lost childrens to it.
Sieges luckily lost crossbowers to him, too stupid to dodge not in the pools...but also our dwarfs, some of them...
he was a savage beast, and luckily the only one.
at least, that's what i hope...in the event i am wrong, and the cages have all been opened...in the event that they roam free the fortress, do not come looking for me.
DO NOT! For i am certain i'll be dead. I will come back to you, one way and you'll know i have come back victorious, or the other, and a slab engraved with my name will suffice...
Just PROMISE ME. DO NOT come...
i love you...and by armok i swear i'll do what i can to come back to you...
Love,
Urist.
Logged
“Well,” he said. “We’re in the Forgotten hunting grounds I take it. Your screams just woke them up early. Congratulations, Lyara.”
“Do something!” she whispered, trying to keep her sight on all of them at once.
Basileus clapped his hands once. The Forgotten took a step forward, attracted by the sound.
“There, I did something. I clapped. I like clapping,” he said. -The Investigator And The Case Of The Missing Brain.

UltraValican

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Re: Let's go back to Gripwhips...
« Reply #1 on: July 18, 2011, 09:50:04 am »


Bravo, That was a jolly good read.
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The Master

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Re: Let's go back to Gripwhips...
« Reply #2 on: July 18, 2011, 07:19:18 pm »

FANTASTIC! WHERE'S THE SEQUEL?! YOUR AMAZING!
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Holy jesus I thought I was ready but nothing could have prepared me for this
Hush, little Asea, don't you cry.
If he notices we'll surely die!
You. Made. Asea. CRY.

shadenight123

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Re: Let's go back to Gripwhips...
« Reply #3 on: July 20, 2011, 03:48:37 am »

The sun was high in the sky when the first smoke was seen.
It moved upwards, in circles, slowly making it's way to the sky, getting thinner and thinner until it became transparent, and then disappeared altogether.
Maybe it became clouds, maybe they would bring rain...the weather was mild, more to the cold than to the hot, though.
The ice was creaky, as Urist walked on it, but it would have sufficed. He had to, it was the only way in...the only one he knew would have survived.
In gripwhips, cold lasted for three seasons. Only in summer did the ice melt away.
Snowstorms were frequent. rains also. The weather was not too uncomfortable though, and nobody ever died of freezing.
A noise, from behind him, made him shudder. a little clop, then another. He slowly turned his head, and saw it. a deer.
he gave a loud sigh of relief. it was not Vord. There were no entrails or blood covering his horns, and his eyes were not murderous.
Maybe an off-spring. Certainly not a fighting one.
he could have enjoyed some meat, but the thought of angering Vord was enough to refrain him.
He continued to walk towards gripwhips, the ice crackling under him.
He had to enter the fortress before night. The few people he had encountered and brought with him to have company and avoid the night beasts had run away at the sight of the smoke.
Red, blood-like smoke. The idiocy of the dwarves in all it's power and glory.
There was nothing that would have kept them from running away, "blasphemy! balsphemous place!" was all they uttered as they ran away.
but Urist had to go.
So he went, past the icy moat, were once working magma pipes had kept liquid all year round.
He went past the frozen waterfall, and when his feets touched the golden road he knew he was at the beginning of everything.
There it was, the bridges of gripwhips.
Made out of pure silver. With the finest masterwork mechanisms, and obviously...bright dwarfenly closed. There was no way to get in. Unless a ghost decided to pull the lever.
He sweared. He though noone would have come before him, but somebody had, and that somebody was so idiotic to close his only way out.
if only someone...he staggered clop clop clop and with fast reflexes he jumped to the left, avoiding the charge of an enormous deer...
"there you are vord" was all urist muttered, as he grasped his weapon, a battleaxe made of fine Steel. He would have wanted back the adamantine one, though he had left it behind, in the moment of danger.
and vord answered with a low growling. Not made for deer, but for a monster of hellish doom.
His horns were bloody, old rotten entrails were on top of them like trophies. His teeths were sharp, sharper than what a normal deer teets would have been.
His hoofs were pointy, and left bloody tracks were he walked.
he pointed again at urist. preparing to charge.
Urist knew he had to dodge.
But the only thing was where.
Vord charged again. Howling like a beast of madness, and urist yelled in rage as he himself charged Vord. Axe at the ready for a mortal strike.
A mortal strike which never came. As fast as lightning, he jumped to the side at the last moment. Jumping in the frozen waterfall. The ice went with a crack, and he ended up engulfed in the frozen icy water.
Vord stood still, looking around, smelling for the dwarf. Where did it go? he wondered to himself, than clopped his way towards the ice.
Frozen steel hands grabbed him by the neck, and threw him in the cold water. Vord howled, screamed as water as cold as death itself entered his mouth, his nose, his lungs, and then, the strong hands kept him there. Down there. To die.
Urist pushed himself out of the frozen pond, shivering.
With one hand, he threw the frozen to death vord onto the riverside.
He chopped his head off, and threw it in the pond before it froze over again.
He grabbed a couple of rocks, hastily preparing a bonfire. And there, he sat, shivering for the cold, while the deer meat was being cooked.
it seemed to him like an allucination...but the bridges...were now down...
"curses...curses you all..." he muttered, as a cold sleep got him, as he laid there, waiting for the cold to go away. Not willing to separate himself from the cold steel armour, his only hope against whatever still lurked in there.
Logged
“Well,” he said. “We’re in the Forgotten hunting grounds I take it. Your screams just woke them up early. Congratulations, Lyara.”
“Do something!” she whispered, trying to keep her sight on all of them at once.
Basileus clapped his hands once. The Forgotten took a step forward, attracted by the sound.
“There, I did something. I clapped. I like clapping,” he said. -The Investigator And The Case Of The Missing Brain.

UltraValican

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Re: Let's go back to Gripwhips...
« Reply #4 on: July 20, 2011, 08:37:32 am »

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