February 24th, 2009
|03:32 pm - Fall From Heaven AAR - Khazad Bastard King the First|
I am Kandros Fir king of the Khazad. Ruler of all Dwarves and you could have the gods-damned job if I didn't think anyone else would be useless compared to me.
So when the Age of Ice passed, freeing up the sprawling lands of Erebus from the grips of the God of Winter, I was the unlucky bastard on the Bronze Throne. King of the Khazad. I liked the Ice Age. I hate the open sky and the wind and all that garbage of nature. Ice everywhere means nothing to me, should mean dick all to the Khazad people to be honest.
When the glaciers started to flow again, can you believe my idiot subjects rejoiced? I felt like putting them all down with clubs. Fucking claustrophobes and cretins, the entire pack. All this wank about clouds and grass and whatnot, I felt like screaming. Where is the fucking ore? Underground. Where can't cavalry charges happen? Underground. Where can't bloody griffons swoop down and snatch dwarven babies from their mothers' arms? Underground. Where do all elves, orks and the rest of the bastard scum fear to tread? Under-fucking-ground. And there's nothing wrong with fungus stew. You don't like the taste of it after all these centuries? How about I have you flogged? You like that?
I had serious troubles. I was having nightmares. All the scouts said the same stuff and the people were rumbling. Open the doors, they said. Let us out and live again, they said. We are all freemen they said. See, what they want is to be able to go outside and live there. That's not a dwarven kingdom! What the fuck is your obsession with the colour blue? Blue is shit! But even the royal guard was discontented. Every cunt wanted to go outside. So I said fine, fucking go then. There's shit up there that will pull your guts out through your arsehole with their fucking teeth and I'll be the king you hear laughing when it happens. Outside animals aren't domesticated and tame like our breeds, they will have you. So, who to kill, who to imprison and then one of my advisors said some things that weren't shit.
His name is Madrull Beardmore. Beardmores are renowned for their common sense which is why they hold regular positions at court. To clarify, by common sense I mean they have usually agreed with my ancestors slavishly for years. SO when old Madrull started puffing on that fucking dinky pipe and started disagreeing with me, I had no articulate way to respond. He said a whole bunch of crap about dignity and reeds bending with wind and water eroding cliffs and I have to tell you I was an ork's arse away from having him castrated with hammers. But then he asked me who I hated. Bit of an obvious question I thought, and the very audacity of the question stunned me. I hate pretty much everyone I said, you gods-damned cretin. He nodded sagely and said, but do you hate everyone equally? I scratched my head, what was the old goat playing at? And I said, well I hate you less than that cunt Bosicus who keeps on about the water supply. And for the most part whenever they leave me alone my people aren't a complete burden. I do enjoy watching dwarves get pissed. We say the funniest shit, and some of the best family vendettas, unwanted pregnancies and most elaborate deaths have all come from fungal beer.
What about the other races, he asked. Shower of cunts the lot of them I said. They were too tall, they smelled wrong, they drank pisswater and they worshipped the wrong gods. That's what all the stories say and I don't doubt their veracity. Of course, I said, I've never met a dirty foreigner before. What's your fucking point, I said. He said, well do you think we're the only peoples to survive the Age of Ice? I had to concede that we probably weren't alone. What do you think they'll be doing he said. With all the rivers flowing and the trees and the sun and all Oghma's creatures running and prancing and fucking their way through the forests. He didn't really put it like that, but my way is ten times shorter than what fucking Madrull calls brevity. Stupid question, I said. They'll be dancing like fuckwits and moving out into the valleys and whatnot as soom as they can, breeding and stinking up the place in no time, I said. Madrull said, and what will happen when we meet these foreigners? Probably war, I said. The races didn't really get along before Mulcarn fucked the place up and a few centuries of isolation will not have changed one fucking thing.
And how will we win this war? He asked. I looked him, agape, wide-eyed, stunned and aghast. WE ARE FUCKING DWARVES, I said. One dwarf is ten of any too-tall swinging prick who comes around for a biff. And what if there are more than ten times our number in foreigners? He asked. What if they expand and forge new and powerful kingdoms and they conquer and enslave us? With what army? I was tempted to ask, but I saw his point. They will come, he said, and we must either be ready for them or we must conquer and enslave them before they do it to us. So what do you want me to do, I asked. Your father, he said. Your father was awaiting this day. Seers had claimed it would come in his reign and he had always hoped it would be so, he made preparations. Seers have claimed the imminent recession of the ice at *least* once a year since forever, I said. Seers are too fucking lazy to get real mining jobs and zany enough to impress the mob with fine rhetoric, grand proclamations, and when their limited intelligence fails them, pissing their robes and having ectastatic vision. Fuck seers, I said. And fuck the whores and rentdwarves that they fuck when they think people won't notice.
Nonetheless, Madrull said. Your father made plans to recolonise the Overworld of Erebus and I think that following through on this will be a good idea. It will calm the people, solidify your reign, and maybe we can get some proper hops going and make some beer the way our ancestors wrote of. I was convinced.
So that's that, we're going out of our beloved caverns into the Overland and we're going to spread and fuck and conquer our way across it and when all is done Erebus will smell like a stout pair of Dwarven testicles. I am going to become one of history's legends. We are going to get so much gold and iron and live like mighty kings on the piled remains of enemy villages. I'll still be the only king though. Don't confuse metaphors with bullshit social reform. Not going to happen.