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赫伯恩寓言：矮人自走人
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2022-08-11更新
最新编辑:Lu_23333
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更新日期：2022-08-11
最新编辑：Lu_23333
赫伯恩寓言：矮人自走人
赫伯恩寓言：矮人自走人
炉火月，9日
矮人族已经灭绝许多年了，这样也许最好。看着那些和大孩子一样尺寸的矮人男性和女性都留着胡须，这种景象的确令人感到不舒服。即使如此，且不论矮人给众神带来了多少愤怒而遭致灭族，但见证一个伟大文明的消逝确实是让人对神产生敬畏。
矮人文明的遗迹现长眠在山脉的中心，来自世界各地的学者和盗墓贼像秃鹰闻到了肉味一样前来拜访矮人城市遗迹，挖掘过去还未发现的宝物，一些过去的知识都等待着被挖掘，更多的宝物等待着被发现。但是有很多人死于挖掘的过程中，因为不经过战斗别想从这些锻莫遗迹中拿到任何宝物。
当我是个孩子的时候，我的亲戚跟我讲过这些故事，关于矮人族在建造机械方面是多么的在行。在我们的时代之前，矮人族有着驾驭大地之力，使用火焰和匠锤把钢铁和青铜塑造出新的形状，并用完美的手工技术对这些古代的机械注入新的生命，这种生命充满了金属和魔法的力量。在黑暗的走廊和门厅之中，夹杂着齿轮转动和通风口吹出的蒸汽，它们位于此地，等待着消灭那些妄图来到矮人圣殿的掠夺者们，像最后的遗迹中冷酷的看守者一般看着这一切。
我进入到树皮遗址潮湿的黑暗洞穴中。水蒸气缓慢地喷发出嘘嘘的声音，金属嘎吱嘎吱的声音和破旧的齿轮空转发出的声音就足以吓退大多数人。我听到黑暗中发出的响动，跨过一阶阶我看不清的楼梯和跨过一个又一个停止搜索的掠夺者和学者的尸体，我知道这都不是老鼠在这些走廊间徘徊发出的声音。
机械蜘蛛以极其快速的动作袭击我，还有从墙壁中发出的机关和从球形装置中伸出的机关，这些都会启动地上的齿轮和十字弩。我情不自禁对这些以杀人为唯一目的的机关感到惊奇。我的剑和盾是我的力量源泉，我没有被这些事所吓倒，因为我已经打听过很多关于如何在这些宫殿深处游荡的事情，实际上这里真的存在一些别的东西。它带着隆隆声越来越接近，它的脚击打着地面，犹如行走在巨大的活塞之上，可怕地从黑暗中出现，我这才第一次看清了它的摸样，一手拿着手斧，另一手拿着战锤，和5个人叠起来一样高大，它的面部是由青铜做成的，容貌就和它的主人一样，一个蒸汽百夫长。这些故事是真实的，在这些矮人宝藏前面都是有守卫保护着的。
我们大战了一场，我们的这场战斗足够激烈却没有震醒那些长眠于此的死者，可见矮人族的确是灭绝了。它用那带着非人力量和强大意志的手斧和战锤攻击我，除了杀戮毫无其他杂念。我躲闪了它的一次次攻击，它的这些无效攻击将我周围的石头都打碎了，我用力用我的剑刺和砍任何它泄露出的空挡。我不想被一个机械打败。
在这里，正常人早就死了，我站在这里注视着这死机器人的外壳，它的蒸汽喷涌如弥留间的呼吸。我本可以拿走这些矮人的古文物和金属，但我把它们放在这里，以留给其他人来探索，我不会让我的旅程沉迷在这些死人的财宝上，而且这正是让那些失足者死去的原因。
我将在这片大陆上继续我的旅程，可能在未来的某一天赫伯恩会碰到更有意义的挑战，因为我还想看到那些让我颤抖的东西。
Herbane's Bestiary: Automatons
Herbane's Bestiary: Dwarven Automatons
9 Hearthfire
The Dwarves have been extinct for many an age, and perhaps for the best. To see men and women the size of large children, all with beards, would be a most disturbing sight. Still, whatever wrath the Dwarves brought from the gods that consumed an entire civilization surely must have been an awe-inspiring thing to witness.
The remnants of their civilization lie buried in the hearts of mountains, and scholars and thieves the world over descend on the skeletal remains of dwarven cities like vultures, to scrape clean the bones of the past, old knowledge waiting to be exhumed and treasures to be discovered. But many men lay murdered in those halls of the damned, because those dwarven ruins do not release their treasures without a fight.
My kin would tell the stories long ago, when I was just a child, about how adept the Dwarves were at building machines. They would say that before our time, dwarves harnessed the power of the earth, and wielded fire and hammers to reshape steel and bronze with a mechanical brilliance that breathed life into these now ancient constructs of metal and magic. In the dark halls and chambers amid the ceasless droning of grinding gears and venting steam, they lie in wait to confound or destroy would-be plunderers of the dwarven sanctums, as the grim watchmen of the last vestiges of culture from a dead race.
I descended into the humid darkness of Mzulft. The slow hiss of steam, creaking of metal and the rattle of old gears powering an empty city would unnerve most men. I could hear things in the darkness, skittering across the floor just out of sight and as I stepped over the bodies of plunderers or scholars who had not made it far, I knew it was not rats wandering these halls.
Small mechanical spiders set upon me with rapid movements, and machines sprouted from the walls and uncurled from spheres into contraptions that rolled on top of gears for legs and crossbows for arms. I could not help but marvel at these single purpose machines built for the murder of men. My sword and my shield are my strength and I am undeterred by such things because I had heard of greater things that roam these depths, and indeed something else in these chambers stirred, and it echoed with massive weight. As it lumbered closer, its feet struck the ground as if walking on massive pistons and as it loomed out of darkness, I could see it clear for the first time, axe for one hand, hammer for the other, as tall as five men, made of dull bronze with a face molded in the image of its masters. A Steam Centurion. The stories were true, these were the guardians of the greatest dwarven treasures.
We fought, and the dwarves must truly be extinct because our battle was surely booming enough to wake the dead. It came at me with hammer and axe, inhuman strength and great fortitude, and a purpose of nothing but murder. I dodged as it crushed the stone around me with futile strikes and I thrust and slashed at it with my blade and took every opening afforded as we shook the halls with violence. I refuse to be undone by a machine.
Where the average man would be long dead, I stood over the husk of this dead automaton, its steam escaping like a final gasp. I could have taken the dwarven artifacts and metal but left them there for others, for I would not hex my journey with the possessions of dead men and maybe that is where countless others go wrong.
I will continue to my journey across the lands, And perhaps one day Herebane will meet a worthy challenge, for I have yet to see what would make me tremble.
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