Dwarf Fortress - Praise Armok!

So, adventure mode is incredible now.

I started off a lowly demigod, fleeing from bandits and near constant wild life attacks, only killing the head bandits to earn me fame to allow me to recruit soldiers. After a particularly close victory which saw all bar one of my followers die, I was given a new quest.

A tougher quest.

Find the vampire responsible for 390 deaths over the past 200 years, they said, and put an end to it's reign. All I was given a name, and a place. Eccu Namesomber. The last name hundreds heard before being turned to lifeless husks. The place was a small hamlet a few days travel to the north.


Upon arrival, it was near deserted. I, more out of habit than hope, searched the abandoned homes for survivors. It was then I saw the first human in days. A ragged, starving creature, almost pathetic. When pushed, he said last he heard the Vampire had fled back to the sewers beneath the City, Gildedfrost. I must admit, I suspected a trap. It was just too convenient.

And sure enough, beneath the city there were sewers, and, sure enough, it had inhabitants. Nasty, vicious things, which killed my last companion and began to devour him in front of me.

In rage and depression I fled to the Citys' Keep. I would recruit more soldiers and purge the Depths or I would die there!


The castle was huge. Bigger and more ornate than I've ever seen. Statues made of rare stone and metal filled the rooms. It was while admiring them, I met the Cities Lawgiver. Hello, he said. You look like you've seen better days. He smiled. I grimaced.

"My name is Eccu", he said. "And I'm the law giver for this town"

Ha, what law does this soft fool know of? Only the laws of full bellys and fuller walle-

"What was your name again?", I inquired, struggling to keep calm.

"Eccu", he smiles, raising an eyebrow. "It's not that an unusual name, is it, stranger?"

"Beast".

"Excuse me, peasant? Watch your tongue!"

"I name thee beast and I cast thee into the pit!" I yelled as I threw myself at him.

The most vicious battle of my life ensued. He was strong. Too strong. He caught my right hand in his and crushed it, turning it to pulp, my broken bones severing my nerves and tendons.

I had my own advantages though, that didn't rely on the supernatural. Surprise. Experience from dozens of hard fought battles. A weapon.

It is said silver is their bane. Turns out, Bronze works fine too. Specifically, a bronze great axe.

I swung my blade into his belly with my remaining good hand, and while he was picking up his guts and shoving them back in I cleaved his head from his body.

It was then I collapsed from exhaustion. Too much for my body to bear, it simply gave out once no longer needed.

When I woke up, I was amazed to find my wounds healed. All bar the nerves in my hand. I was also thirsty. So... thirsty...

I drank two buckets full of water before I realized what the thirst was for.

I cursed the name Eccu Namesomber long into the night, as I fled the town.



Edit; This was only the beginning for Ithrus Sinakirus. There's also raids on necromancers towers, huge battles with savage warlords, and hand to hand combat with creatures that make elephants look small and honey badgers look meek.

I LOVE THIS GAME.

 

This is a brief biography of Ithros Ringstopped, The Present Mortality of Selling, written by Beef, on the 26th Felsite, 126. Press 'a' to read.

Spoiler

Warning; It isn't brief at all.

Ithros was a pretty unique guy.

For instance, he only had one hand, and has made do with that one left hand for over a year of adventuring. His legs had been broken more times than he had teeth left (four). Once, while reading some stolen books, he accidentally discovered he had three silver arrows stuck in him. They had been there for quite some time. His body was basically one big scar. This is despite having ornate bronze armor, and an iron great axe covered in jewels and, for some reason, sandstone. Of course, for his last mission (Kill a Vampire which has tricked a large walled city that it is their law giver, and has subsequently killed over 1,000 people, leaving tracts of the city simply abandoned.) he went back to his roots. A simple bronze axe. Simple bronze armor. Seemed almost poetic, after fighting gods and monsters to go back to how he killed his first vampire.

It did the trick.


He was never very smart (he could barely read!), but he was always strong. Strong, wrestling bulls strong. Worked out well for him, especially so after the whole vampire stat boost thing. Course, he hated the bloodlust. Never did accept draining innocents. Hundreds of bandits, sure, but an innocent? No, never.

Well, almost. Ya see, life's complicated, and undeath doubly so. After the last necromancer was killed, and after the bandits and warlords were thinned to the point where they couldn't satisfy his thirst, and what with him being the strongest vampire on the continent, he got cocky. Started feeding on sleeping villagers. Course, no way this could end but bad. One time, while taking a sip from a sleeping woman, her husband came home. Stabbed Irthos in the right lung with a fork. Could've ended badly. Very badly. Lucky for their civilization however, Irthos still had some compassion, so he simply strangled the couple into unconsciousness, trusting the rest of the villagers to care for them when they awoke.


He took his leave of that region before any more trouble could start. Went wandering south for a time. Found some interesting things down there, his own personal army of zombie yeti's ranking high among them. Some less glamorous times too. Spending 1 and a half (real time) hours swimming through a sewer, just to see what was down there for instance. (Truth be told he was hoping for some Snakemen followers. [He was disappointed]). He was gearing up for something.


He never liked any gods much. Certainly not after meeting one. Did you know a Bison Brute could convince a few dozen townsfolk it was the incarnation of one of their hedge gods with a few shows of verbosity? Me neither. Irthos normally would've just passed on through. After all, he'd seen stranger things in his travels. Who is he to dictate who you can and can not worship?

That was before he noticed the crown. Not of gold, nor silver, but bone. Human bone. After spending his life fighting to protect people, he wasn't about to just walk away from this.

So he challenged the Brute. Got punched hard enough both his lungs collapsed and two of his ribs broke. Then an arm broke.

At this point, he began to regret his decision. Gee, he though. Maybe this wasn't so smart after all.

Course, Ithros wasn't your average adventurer. If he was, he couldn't have gotten right back up. He sure as shit wouldn't have proceeded to hack off one of it's legs, and no way in hell he'd have been slowed down by the Brute's horn spearing his guts. Nope. Instead, he pulled back, letting the horn slide out. He'd have suffocated by now, had he needed to breathe. He'd have passed out, if he didn't have the constitution of a Dead Thing, with the drive of a living creature.

He'd have just annoyed the Brute if he hadn't the strength enough to hack, and hack, and hack until it was the one to pass out. Then, he bite the neck of a supposed God, and drained it.

Ithros carried the Bison Brute's, the supposed God, skull around as a trophy. Felt he earned it. Townsfolk disagreed...

At this point, being the single most powerful being left alive on a continent, his thoughts turned to yet more power. It would be so simple to visit the Catacombs in Gildedfrost and raise an army the size of which had never seen before. It would be so easy to lay siege to all the castles of the land and empty them, to purge every single city, town and hamlet of life... and then? Then he would be... he would be... the last. All alone.


He returned to the capital. He found the catacombs. He searched every level, ever nook, ever coffin, and eventually found what he was looking for. His companions from before he set off down this road. He paused. He sighed. He unloaded all the loot he had collected, hundreds of gold coins, an extensive and exotic collection of skulls, and the finest weapons in the land, and placed them around their bodies, before whispering something that might have been an apology.


Afterwards, he made his way to his hometown. No rush though. Nothing left to waylay a traveller but wildlife. He found his old farm. Hung up his axe. Meet the neighbours. Started a farm.

The crippled vampire necromancer now lives in a peaceful (That is, after I fucking murdered everything vaguely hostile within 3 travel screens) little village, just south east of the capital, in a sunny peninsula.

He deserves a little down time.

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So, uh, after two solid days of adventure mode, I'm going to start a fort tomorrow. I hope I become as attached to my fort as I did ol' Ithros. Also, worth noting I have exaggerated some aspects of this for the sake of a good story, and cut out much, much more. Don't let this sully your view of DF though. It really is as fantastic as (I hope) I'm making it sound.

 

Where did you get those witty puns from? You got a crypt writer Terry?

I like the series of bridges in your entrance. What are the neighbours like?