Bartholomew
Chieftain
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2007
- Messages
- 49
I don't often find a proper story emerging out of the random ups and downs of a computer game, but FFH is special that way, and this story had to be shared. The first hundred or so turns as the dwarfs, the tale of the rise and fall of my people, and an uncertain future.
I made my capital in a tiny vale surrounded by mountains (a poor spot for development, actually, but there was something whispering and holy about the place), and in the following years my scouts ranged far and wide with surprising success; I became one of the most advanced and wealthy nations thanks to their efforts. The most experienced of these lost warriors became known as the Tigermen for their fighting prowess, and as caravans loaded with their looted gold returned to the mountain hold of Khazak new settlers were sent forth to expand our fledgling realm. Hallowell was settled near a copper-speckled hill, and the Mad Gates closed a tribe of lunatic Balseraphs into the frozen valley where they were first discovered. The sages began work on the secrets of the Earthmother, and all was well in our kingdom.
Then Orthus came. With hordes of orcs and goblins around him the monster laid siege to Hallowell, and as reinforcements were rushed north the temporarily undefended Mad Gates were sacked by a swift-moving band of goblins. The valiant defenders of Hallowell held out for years, but in the end the terrible Orthus pulled down the citys walls and butchered its people. The mad Balseraphs, freed from their prison, settled amongst the ruins at the Gates only to be slaughtered when Hallowell collapsed. Drunk on blood and shadowed by my scouts, Orthus turned west towards the hidden vale from which the dwarf people had first emerged.
Was it a whispering in the wind? A tremor in from the blessed Earth? Far, far to the north beyond any reach of messenger or carrier hawk the warrior Tigermen paused among the sands and jungles of the lowlands, then turned and flew home as fast as their seasoned legs could carry them. With growing fear and haste they moved through a land of ruins and crying ghosts where mines and cities once flourished, and when they finally returned to the vale of Khazak they found but a handful of starving survivors, their hunting camps pillaged, and the giant Orthus at the gate.
He was weaker now, exhausted from the butchery in his wake and abandoned by his fickle hordes, but with the demonic powers in his veins and a gods weapon in his hands he would have snuffed out the fading dwarfs but for the long-traveling Tigermen. Weary as they were from their march and knowing the odds against them, they nevertheless fell straight upon the beast from behind. Many lives were lost, but with the help of the sallying hunters of Khazak the great Orc was pulled down.
Where to now? The dwarf nation, once the second among all discovered peoples, is now but a shadow in the mountains. The population of the vale is back to where it began, Orcs and Lizardmen wander freely over our abandoned lands, and a great Barbarian city has risen to the north from whence meteors and flames rain. But a new religion has been founded among the shattered halls of Khazak, and the words of the Earthmother sooth our wounded soul. And from the ashes of Orthus a mighty axe has been pulled. Will the Word of Kilmorph and the Axe of Orthus be enough for the dwarf people to rebuild? The road ahead is long, and my people far behind the other clans, but the people of the Underhalls are strong and unwilling yet to be forgotten among the broken stones of history.
I made my capital in a tiny vale surrounded by mountains (a poor spot for development, actually, but there was something whispering and holy about the place), and in the following years my scouts ranged far and wide with surprising success; I became one of the most advanced and wealthy nations thanks to their efforts. The most experienced of these lost warriors became known as the Tigermen for their fighting prowess, and as caravans loaded with their looted gold returned to the mountain hold of Khazak new settlers were sent forth to expand our fledgling realm. Hallowell was settled near a copper-speckled hill, and the Mad Gates closed a tribe of lunatic Balseraphs into the frozen valley where they were first discovered. The sages began work on the secrets of the Earthmother, and all was well in our kingdom.
Then Orthus came. With hordes of orcs and goblins around him the monster laid siege to Hallowell, and as reinforcements were rushed north the temporarily undefended Mad Gates were sacked by a swift-moving band of goblins. The valiant defenders of Hallowell held out for years, but in the end the terrible Orthus pulled down the citys walls and butchered its people. The mad Balseraphs, freed from their prison, settled amongst the ruins at the Gates only to be slaughtered when Hallowell collapsed. Drunk on blood and shadowed by my scouts, Orthus turned west towards the hidden vale from which the dwarf people had first emerged.
Was it a whispering in the wind? A tremor in from the blessed Earth? Far, far to the north beyond any reach of messenger or carrier hawk the warrior Tigermen paused among the sands and jungles of the lowlands, then turned and flew home as fast as their seasoned legs could carry them. With growing fear and haste they moved through a land of ruins and crying ghosts where mines and cities once flourished, and when they finally returned to the vale of Khazak they found but a handful of starving survivors, their hunting camps pillaged, and the giant Orthus at the gate.
He was weaker now, exhausted from the butchery in his wake and abandoned by his fickle hordes, but with the demonic powers in his veins and a gods weapon in his hands he would have snuffed out the fading dwarfs but for the long-traveling Tigermen. Weary as they were from their march and knowing the odds against them, they nevertheless fell straight upon the beast from behind. Many lives were lost, but with the help of the sallying hunters of Khazak the great Orc was pulled down.
Where to now? The dwarf nation, once the second among all discovered peoples, is now but a shadow in the mountains. The population of the vale is back to where it began, Orcs and Lizardmen wander freely over our abandoned lands, and a great Barbarian city has risen to the north from whence meteors and flames rain. But a new religion has been founded among the shattered halls of Khazak, and the words of the Earthmother sooth our wounded soul. And from the ashes of Orthus a mighty axe has been pulled. Will the Word of Kilmorph and the Axe of Orthus be enough for the dwarf people to rebuild? The road ahead is long, and my people far behind the other clans, but the people of the Underhalls are strong and unwilling yet to be forgotten among the broken stones of history.
