Now, Iām shit at Dwarf Fortress. Iāve played like four games and every time my fortress has fallen due to my case of terminal autism. But motherfuck itās great.
And I really want to tell you all about the Legend of the Wereracoon. It was fucking sick.
For those of you that havenāt played Dwarf Fortress, itās basically a fortress building simulator with so much fucking content you could play for years and not see all of it. You make a fortress, defend it with your life, and die in its walls. Itās great. But there are some fucking bastard monsters who fucking hate dwarves so tear them apart and one of them happens to be a wereracoon.
Okay, on with the story. So I had a pretty sweet fortress going (for my standards). We had bedrooms and weapons and five dwarves in the militia. The dwarf in charge of both the militia and the entire fortress was a dwarf nicknamed āAvianā. I forget why I called him Avian, but he was fucking sick. Motherfucker didnāt know the meaning of fear, and his pure force of good will was enough to make up for his lack of skill. He had a wife, and enjoyed a life of good food and sparring. Motherfucker had it good.
His second in command had it slightly harder. His name was āRunothdukā and motherfucker was good. He couldnāt fight for his life, and he was a little shit, but he kept things going smoothly because he had the IQ of a fucking god. He knew how to do things so he was the real strength of the fortress.
One day, while we were mining out more stockpiles for our ever-growing piles of loot, some children went missing. We were sad. At least the dwarves were. I wasnāt. Children are fucking expensive. We didnāt know what killed them, but when we found them, they were missing most body parts. Sucks to be them.
A few more dwarves went missing before we figured out what was going on. The creature of our nightmares, the beast which we all feared when we were alone, with matted fur and glowing yellow eyes, always in the shadows of the night until itās too late. Before I knew it, all our dwarves were dead or missing except for two; Runothduk and a gem cutter. Even Avian, the fucking head of our fortress had gone missing. So now they cowered in the jungle, terrified of their death. This was how it was all going to end. The wereracoon abandoned the need for stealth, leaping out of the shadows and killing the gemcutter in one blow. His head rolled into some nearby bushes, and the remains kinda crumpled. The beast snarled, and looked at Runothduk. And then, out of the trees, burst our lord and savior Avian. Missing his left arm and leg, he fucking tackled the racoon to the ground and BIT HIS NECK OFF. HOW FUCKING METAL CAN YOU GET? OH, THATāS RIGHT, YOU CAN GET MORE FUCKING METAL. HE PICKED UP THE CORPSE OF A NEARBY DWARVEN CHILD AND FUCKING BLUDGEONED THE WERERACOON IN THE SKULL UNTIL IT STOPPED MOVING.
The motherfucker then died, leaving Runothduk alone. Shitstain didnāt have a clue what to do. Nobody to boss around now Runothduk you prick. There was nothing for it. He decided to go insane. It was a good choice, because it was entertaining to watch him charge into the deserts of pure evil armed with nothing but a racoon corpse.
Motherfuck Dwarf Fortress is fun.
blakekathryn
titsay
germansingergirl
areudirty
romaincrisis
