A Visit from the Elves



Twas the first day of Granite, and all through the fortress,

the stockpiles were full of all things that were dwarvish.

The bin-fulls of crafts freshly gemmed with great care,

would be traded to elvish kind, soon to be there.



The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of plump helmets danc'd in their heads.

Some dwarves were still sleeping, all sporting silk socks

in bedrooms engraved with dark dolomite blocks.



But when I heard wagon wheel, carving out tracks,

I sprang from my bed with my trusty pickaxe.

Away to the trade depot, unloading a lot,

I stalked the elf traders to see what they brought.



The brokers came buzzing around the new objects,

appraising the good stuff and checking for defects.

When, what to my wondering eyes should behold,

an artifact sword made entirely of gold!



The blade was engraved- a Beak Dog with gold tail,

and hilt-wise it 'menaces with spikes of pure shale'.

More rapid then goblins, the brokers they came,

and whistled, and shouted, and call'd it by name:



"Praise be this artifact, found with the elves!

It's name shall be Stalkedwhipped, the Tormenting Hells!"

"You leave this with us, depart from our hall,

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"



The elves took unkindly to the greed of the dwarves,

they halted all trade and made ready their horse,

and started back toward the large hole they came through,

with all their goods packed... and the artifact too.



But then with a squeaking, I heard from up high,

a floodgate had opened from a vault in the sky.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

down came the lava to fry all the ground.



The elves cooked in magma, right down to their feet,

The trade-able goods all caught fire from the heat.

A bundle of toys was flung into the fire,

knocked over a barrel with blazing attire!



The artifact scalded! but oh how it twinkled!

In lava, it twisted! In magma, it wrinkled!

The scorching hot liquid made way through the fort,

There's no going back, there's no last resort.



In bedroom, in workshop, where dwarf life would thrive,

The lava would conquer, no one would survive.

And then it went BLACK. All things were gone.

The eternal night had finally dawned...



A tiny, quick message the blackness demanded,

Your fortress is over, your settlement abandoned...

My friend turned around once or twice in his chair,

a smile on his face as he started to swear.



I said "I don't get it, you killed everyone?

You built this for weeks, and now you're just done?"

He laughed as he told me "It's rule number 1..."



When playing Dwarf Fortress... losing is fun.

