I can't hear yours, Draconik.
@Tomio: I found your log hilarious. "Now, it wouldn't be that bad, if it wasn't for the Spawn. They're completely... ... annoying."
As to Vanya being a "little bitch"... lol She didn't see the shark, though... instead, I said there was something hidden under a canvas in a corner, being deliberately vague (I love being vague. Solves so many problems). She won't say anything.
And now... a weird bit of story. Written at random... I'll need to proofread it later. For now, just enjoy the misspellings and duplicate/missing words. Or do as Hanslanda does and turn it to punny humer.
The year is 1723 PS – one thousand seven-hundred and twenty-three years after the fall of Syrupleaf and the placement of the entire continent in stasis to appease Armok... You are at the mythical site of Spearbreakers – perhaps the most famous site of the Timewar of the Ancients, before technology truly began to take root. Strangely enough, it's rarely been explored and remains largely untouched. An aura of mythos and taboo surrounds it – stories exist of adventurers impaled on spikes driven by immense magmawheels; stories of chemical traps and gas bombs. But your name is Dr. Urist Jones... a dwarven archaeologist of admittedly little mention, as you prefer to stay out of the limelight. But no matter. Onwards!
You arrived at the ancient site sometime in the middle of the night, and set up camp outside. You've spent your career studying sites such as these, and you know the tricks. Most of them, at least. Now, you journey inside the single pillared structure that marks the only accessible entrance to the fortress – a long underground bridge that's coated with blood and menaces with rusty spikes of iron. It doesn't look functional... but you take no chances. Standing just inside the entrance, you throw a rock forwards onto the bridge. It clatters and bounces, and then finally, with a shriek, spikes erupt from the ground, just as the tales said. "Remarkable," you say. "It's still in working condition." The dwarves of old were excellent mechanics, but this beats most of what you've seen.
You watch the spikes withdraw themselves slowly, crustily into the ground, screeching and groaning in protest. Their gears are old, their power source likely weak. While they can be thrust outwards in a hurry, it appears it takes them some time to withdraw. You wait, and suddenly, with a shriek, they throw themselves into the air again. You waste no time, rushing forwards as quickly as you possibly can, dodging between the ever-lowering spikes as you try to make your way to the other end of the bridge. Down, down, down they go, until they are roughly knee-level, but you're still a distance from the end...
But you've brought your whip. With an expert aim, you lash forwards, the tip snagging a tree root that protrudes from the dirt ceiling above. Leaping off the spike bridge, you swing in a low arc to the right of it, clutching your whip's handle tightly as the rusty spikes to your left scream their way to their full height. Moments later, you land past the end, somersaulting off a wooden floor hatch that splinters and collapses under your weight, sending debris tumbling down to unimaginable depths. Getting to your feet, you look about, and to your dismay realize you've left your Stetson on the bridge. But no matter. A quick flip of your whip fixes that, and, hat where it belongs, you proceed further into the ancient fortress.
Further on, you find what could only be described as a very efficient dart trap, embedded in the walls. Tossing a bone onto the pressure plate (there are hundreds lying around in this old wagon road) does not send a volley of darts forth as you'd expect, but instead, you hear a loud grumbling from the ceiling far above... and realize that the dart trap was but a decoy. A huge boulder lands behind you on a ramp and begins rushing towards you, coinciding with a release of a toxic cloud of sulfur dioxide that rushes around you. Holding your breath, you leap forwards past the dart trap – only then does it begin firing, missing you, but barely – and sprint into the fortress. The walls are closing in on you, and as you watch, an old butcher's shop is crushed before your very eyes. But no matter. You have little time to lose if you plan to avoid meeting the same fate.
You rush forwards again at a sprint, watching skull-tipped spikes extend themselves ever-closer from the moving courtyard walls, glancing behind at the twenty-foot boulder that rolls after you, and glance about quickly for a method of escape. The door in front of you is slowly, slowly lowering... you're not sure if you'll make it in time.
Suddenly magma shoots from cannons embedded in the walls in front of you, forcing you to duck to avoid the burning, molten material. An unidentifiable liquid spews from the ceiling above, forcing you to roll closer to the wall and continue running, just steps ahead of the boulder now. The floor suddenly opens at your feet, and you make a mighty leap over a chasm filled with bubbling magma, praying it will stop the boulder that threatens to crush you from behind, and it does. You feel the earth tremble as it drops into the depths, slamming from one wall to the next, yet your troubles aren't over – the spiked walls approach the path ever more quickly, and the door at the far end has almost closed. You've only been running for about thirty seconds since this all began. You've never seen defenses like this before. You realize you're out of your league.
Still running, the floor far ahead of you opens up again, revealing a deep, deep gorge in the earth, black as night. The steel spikes in the walls shoot outwards, clashing together before you with a clang... but the chasm is empty. You reach it and leap into the depths, flinging your whip upwards and catching the crossed spikes, swinging down, forwards, up... With a tug, you release your whip just as you fly back above the spikes on the other side, tumbling to the ground. The door before you is less than two feet from the floor, and you throw yourself beneath it, grabbing your hat as you go. The door slams solidly, shaking dust from the walls.
You're inside Spearbreakers.
The interior of the fortress contains fewer traps, and as you study it all, you discover that either Mr Frog – a dwarven legend – or a Ferric Elven civilization designed the majority of them. The Ferric civilization apparently maintained the site for an age, starting sometime after its original crumbling. None of them remains, however – you are completely alone. But no matter. There are decades worth of research to be done... and you're the only one to do it.
After several months, you stumble upon the Holy Grail of prizes – the research laboratory of Mr Frog. After circumventing a great number of dart traps, weapon traps, and gas traps, you manage to enter unharmed. Out of the entire fortress, it alone remains untouched by the ancient enemies of Spearbreakers, those same enemies that brought about its downfall. Few of the devices still appear functional, but you realize in awe that you walk the halls of legends... Mr Frog was one of the most famous (and infamous) heroes of the Spawn Wars... His laboratory was said to contain walls of platinum, a ceiling of liquid... tossing a pebble at the ceiling above seems to prove this latter correct – it ripples strangely. You've never encountered such incredible technology before. Continuing your search, you come across a strange journal... it is tattered, composed of bits of "cavy" posters – a now extinct species. But what intrigues you more is the signature within... a pentacle. The sign of Vanya Carena... a figure of legend that's remained shrouded in myth... tall tales about her abound, but little is known, unlike many of the other protagonists of Spearbreakers legend. Your namesake was her better-known friend, also named Urist. It is with an eager curiosity that you turn to the front page and begin to read...
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Topic: [34.11] Spearbreakers - It shudders and begins to move (Read 2273293 times)