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[Sappho]

Spoiler: Part 4 - The Thrilling Conclusion! (click to show/hide)

So now you know how I came to know of the museum and began my quest to deliver the titan’s scale here and thereby escape the demons of the west, whose curses still haunt my dreams. It was a very long journey, and not uneventful.

It took me nearly a week to cross the mountains hauling the heavy scale, but I slept easier knowing I was safe from the threat of evil night creatures. I even gave serious consideration to simply becoming a hermit out there, but I determined that my food supply would run out too quickly, and stood by my quest.

When I emerged on the other side of the mountains, I was greeted by a strange new landscape. Strange, happy-looking tubes and bubbles grew from the very ground, and the area seemed nearly to glow with magical energy.



I knew not whether bogeymen would haunt such surroundings, but I didn’t dare to chance it and made straight for the nearest village, which I had spotted easily from the mountain slopes.



I knew something was wrong immediately. I had been told that here should be a human village, but all of the houses were empty and decrepit from lack of use.



I pushed onward to the next village and found inhabited-looking buildings at last, but was shocked to discover goblins wandering the streets.



At first I made ready to duck behind a tree and throw rocks at them, but they spotted me too quickly. Yet, instead of attacking me, they smiled and waved. I quickly learned that these goblins were not hostile to outsiders.



In fact, they requested my assistance – eliminating the threat of no less than seven nearby vampires! The energy in this place was all wrong, and I dared not even spend the night in their village.



Continuing east, I quickly came upon the capital city of this strange civilization. It was huge and sprawling, yet completely abandoned.



Even the keep in the center was devoid of life. At the least, I had found a safe place to stay the night.



In the morning I was making my way out of the city when I heard the familiar, yet strangely out-of-place cries of a goblin trader in the marketplace. He was alone, but still called out his advertisements of fresh plump helmets. Even in this desolation, it seemed capitalism still persevered.



Was he selling to the ghosts of this place? Calling up my courage, I asked him if he had heard of Dinnerwandered. He simply directed me to the east and said I’d have to walk a very long, long way. As I had no interest in plump helmets, I quickly took my leave of him and began my trek eastward.



Soon I came upon the beach, and the sea. At first I feared I had reached the end of the world, but as I followed the coastline I realized the land continued around on the other side of this ocean, and I still had a long ways to go. Before long it was night, and having no safe place to rest, I simply laid down and passed out on the beach. How fortunate for me that, as I came to learn, bogeymen avoid the beaches as well as the mountains. I could sleep in relative safety as long as I kept to the coastline.

I continued in this manner for several days before finally spotting a human fortress in the distance. I prayed that it held friendly humans, someone who could give me directions to Dinnerwandered. Fortunately, there were human soldiers inside, but they looked completely disillusioned and hardly looked up as I entered.



Inside the keep I discovered the reason: their leader lay dead on the floor, no clue given as to what had happened to him. Already growing accustomed to the sight of death, I relieved him of his clothing to replace my tattered rags. I was sure he wouldn’t mind.

A nearby hamlet was inhabited and seemed lively enough, but the inhabitants spoke of even more vampires and creatures of the night. The scourge had followed me all this way! I obtained further directions – northeast, I could hug the coastline all the way to the north and then I would eventually come upon the region in which lay the famed Museum – and carried onward.

There was one night when I had dared to wander inland a ways and failed to make it back to the coastline before nightfall. For the first time, I found myself surrounded by the wicked faces and grotesque forms of bogeymen. At first I was overcome by fear, but then I remembered that I had taken the life of a titan – why should I be afraid of the stuff of children’s fairy tales? I turned and faced them, and found that they bled just as much as any creature of flesh. Before I knew it, the hideous cackling had faded to a peaceful silence.



The corpses dissolved into smoke, but I managed to grab on to a severed hand before it disintegrated. I added it to my pack as an extra gift to the museum. I slept more soundly that night than any other. Maybe I needn’t run from the evil forever…

A few days after that I was accosted, for the first time, by a gang of human bandits. They were not young men, however, and in fact immediately after they jumped out to surround me, one of them collapsed to the ground for no apparent reason.



The others froze, stared at the lifeless body of their comrade, then at me – somehow they must have believed that I caused his death! At first I was surprised, then I realized I had a titan’s skin strapped to my back and the lifeless hand of a bogeyman was sticking out of my pack. It wasn’t long before the rest of the bandits also lay as lifeless as their elderly colleague, and I was on my way further northward.

The next day I spotted a cave in the distance and felt inspired to investigate. What I saw standing just inside was quite a surprise.



I had heard of dragons, but never seen one up close, and here was one in the flesh, standing before me – and looking straight past me, as I had had the foresight to hide myself. I could carry on unnoticed… But wouldn’t a dragon’s scale make a fine extra addition to this museum? After all, I didn’t know what kind of items were there already, or whether my titan’s scale would suffice. Not being able to see its attacker, the beast, I’m sorry to say, did not put up much of a fight.



Fortunately the dragon's scale was neither as large nor as heavy as the titan's, and its added weight hardly slowed me down at all.



From there I continued north, and then at last the coastline turned east, and I knew I must be drawing close. In the distance I saw several tall towers, each dark and twisted in form. I must admit I was curious, and considerably less afraid than I had been at the start of my journey, but I had had enough encounters with the evil and the undead for one journey. I gave them plenty of space as I passed around them.

I stopped in villages here and there as I made my way east. Each had its share of vampires and beasts of the night to fear, but such tales grew fewer as I approached my destination, and I held on to the hope that Dinnerwandered would indeed be the safe haven I prayed for.

One night, I was startled awake from my bed of driftwood on the beach in the midst of a violent dream. I quickly spotted several sets of eyes around me and quickly discerned human forms holding weapons – more bandits to deal with. In an instant I readied myself for combat, but then I realized that they weren’t attacking. I took a moment to actually look at their faces, and found them frozen in horror. It was then that I noticed the other forms on the ground next to me – lifeless human corpses, violently slaughtered. What had happened? Had I been fighting in my sleep? One of the bandits smiled at me nervously and waved in what he seemed to imagine was a friendly way. He told me that they were “travelers” on their way home, and were sorry to have disturbed me. Upon hearing my name his eyes widened even further, and he asked for my autograph.



I had no patience for this sort of nonsense, and simply went back to sleep. When I awoke, the bandits were gone, though they had left the corpses of their comrades to rot in the sand.

- - -

Now, at last, I am here. Everyone in this region seems to know my name. I, frightened little Stasbo Humorbury, who fled across the entire continent to escape the curse of the mummy I tried I steal from, who carried the scales of titans and dragons across the mountains and pounded crowds of bogeymen into smoke, and now known as the Tepid Blazes, came into this museum while you, the so-called guard, Loge Pullclouded, slept on the floor clutching your axe like a teddy bear. I laid my donations on the tables:

-2 dragon eggs
-the scale of Thuthu Jirdothakom Othiubpo Evhol the Titan
-the scale of Accok Nesimustra Rulucobim Kesmel the Dragon
-a bogeyman’s left hand, preserved forever against the sunlight



And then I waited for you to wake up. I have come here seeking refuge and a safe new home for myself, and I have fought hard and suffered greatly to get here. So please understand, Ms. Pullclouded, that when you tell me there are no fewer than FIVE vampires living in the sewers of this very city, and that you would like me to get rid of them, my only response to you is, quite simply: I QUIT.

Spoiler: Route Map (click to show/hide)

Save File - I used sendspace this time because it's a bit faster, hope no one minds. We're closing in on the 100 MB limit anyway.

[Bralbaard]

Great turn! I've entered the Titan skin as your primary submission, let me know if that's ok, because the other stuff is very much worthy of a place in the museum as well. I am going to sort through all the other additional items people submitted once my own turn arrives, and start some kind of exhibition on the second floor of the keep, because it would be a shame if all these items were lost. I've send Peregarrett a PM.

[peregarrett]

Sorry, just skip me. I tried adventure mode and that's not for me. I better stick with fortresses.

[Bralbaard]

Allright, I'm starting as human outsider, peasant.
-----------
My name is Hratgar Nosefold, Historian.
While you may think historians deal with the past, I think we may yet change the future and save this doomed world. But before I tell you more about that bold claim, I first need to tell you a bit more about my profession, and what it means these days.

I am sure you have not met many historians lately. That is mainly because, so it seems, somewhere around the year 1051, all historians seem to have quit their jobs. Nobody writes about important events anymore. Before this year, there are libraries filled with books about historical events, When looking for written reports after this year you are lucky if you can find a few scraps of paper. So what happened? Not what you might expect. it's not that the historians quit because they were not being payed enough, or another trivial reason. No it seems they stopped writing because, somehow, history itself stopped.

Yes, since this magical year, no war and famines have happened. There were no births to report in the royal families of any race or civilisation, and there were no dragon attacks, new heroes or anything at all that is worth talking about. You can go out in the street and ask people what they've been doing the past 25 years, but nobody will come up with anything even mildy interesting. It seems the world is somehow under a heavy curse, and if we do nothing the intelligent races of this world are doomed to go extinct as our royal families slowly die of old age, followed not much later by the rest of their civilisations.

There are a few exceptions to this rule though, and I have come to study these. The best place to study is among the dwarves, for their race seems partially immune to the curse. Most of their empires have fallen to the curse as well, and the hamlet I am in, laborgilt, certainly has, but there are rumours even in this village, about dwarven cities that have recently been build far away to the north. All these cities were founded after 1050, and they have strange names such as Sunkengem, Lakelancers and Tongsrace.

These rumours have been studied by the few remaining historians for years now, and while most have concluded that the dwarven race is the key to lifting the curse, I have drawn a different conclusion. You see, besides these dwarven cities, there are a few other events that seem to have been recorded in history since 1050. These are stories of brave adventurers, some successfull and some not, and there is one thing all of these have in common. All of these adventurers where somehow connected to a place called 'the museum'. Some worked directly for the museum by collecting items, others only stated their intention to travel to this place and never made it.

Sure you may object by saying that the new dwarven cities do not fit in this story, that it makes no sense. But one look at the map should teach you what I already know:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Yes indeed, the dwarves could have created those cities anywhere, but somehow, all but one of these cities were build in the northeast near the museum. Not only that, but dwarves have always been known to only build their cities in the mountains, but these new towns are build in open plains and other unusual locations. The museum has clearly stated its goals; to gather all the riches and treasures in the known world, and it is using these dwarven cities to produce them. That makes the reason for this curse obvious; they have in fact paralyzed the rest of the world so they can steal these treasures without being challenged. And to go back to where I started, this is where a historian can change the future. I have found where the curse originates; in the museum in Dinnerwandered, and now the time has come to do something about it. I will travel to the museum, with as many allies as I can. I will make sure history has a future, even if that means I will have to gather an army and raze Dinnerwandered to the ground.

[Bralbaard]

This is the report of the investigation into the death of Hrathgar Nosefold. We have been able to elucidate the following facts about the sudden dissapearance and death of mr. Nosefold, historian.

It has been established without doubt that mr. Nosefold left Laborgilt together with Atir Relicbrim, a local marksdwarf. It is believed that their destination was the city of Dinnerwandered, as mr. Nosefold had tried to persuade more dwarves to follow him to this location. A search party found a trail heading north into the Soaked Mountains, the trail passed several brooks and finally took the search party out of the mountains into the Hideous Waste of Bandits. The search party considered abandoning the effort, because the area is known to be very dangerous, but they happened to find the body of Mr. Nosefold just when they had decided to turn back.

A short description of the site where the body was found will be given here:
Besides the body of Mr. Nosefold, the search party also found the corpse of the marksdwarf, the bodies of several kobolds, and several boar corpses. The kobolds, from their clothing could be identified as members of Glikifilrirus srofogrirus. The boar corpses seemed to be in a much more advanced state of rot than the other corpses indicating that they were likely corpses of undead creatures. From the tracks it can be deduced that the kobolds must have been in hiding, and that they likely ambushed Mr. Nosefolds party.
It seemes from a survey of the wounds that both the kobolds and Mr. Nosefold and his companion were killed by the boars, likely they were supprised by the undead boar herd when still fighting eachother. It appears, based on where his body was found, that Mr. nosefold tried to run from the boars, but that he was unsuccesfull, likely because he was slowed by wounds he received earlier in combat.

The search party could not write a more detailed report because some of the bodies came back to life repeatedly during the investigation, which greatly hampered our effort to conduct a proper crime investigation. The search party finally retreated when the mussels that were brought for lunch came alive and tried to make lunch of the search party. We do feel however that our report gives the most accurate description of the events possible given the circumstances.

The savegame can be found here:
http://dffd.wimbli.com/file.php?id=6746

Also it seems like the file depot now accepts files up to 150 MB, we are at 84 now so we should be safe for a while.

[Argonnek]

If memory serves, Kobolds and undead are the most common cause of death amongst our adventurers. But why are the Kobolds so prosperous that they are still hunting the wilds when all other races are dying out?

[Eric Blank]

1. They breed like rabbits
2. They just don't stop breeding. Ever.

Why, then, is everyone else failing to make up for their losses?

[Tehsapper]

Sorry for this taking sooo long. I was busy and also lost my interest and creativity drive to write. I'll manage to finish this in next, final post.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Diary of Sarvesh Worksound the Gloomy Gills of Crafts, the dwarven necromancer, entry 7.


Silverywind!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Please ignore the lack of snow It is counted as splatter, so it doesn't get exported to map. Or maybe it just isn't rendered by Ogreseer

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

We are finally here. After a long journey through ourmy world, we made it. Even if I wasn't the first, I feel like a champion. I'm slowly reaching my final meaning of life.
A rather dark and gruesome citadel appeared in our vision, hidden by snow and blizzard. Wind is moaning high above, ravaging at towers that block its path. They penetrate thick fog clouds, but it seems that the site was badly damaged and weared by time and waves. I rush forward and touch blocks of dark, almost stone-like ice.

Oops. It is deathly cold. I withdraw my hand in reflex as it was scorched by coldness. Only now I understand how damn cold this place is and notice that I can see my breath. I wonder how many things I have missed because of my inadvertence.

When my horde entered the ancient gates of this thousand year old peril of dwarven architecture, I found signs confirming that Bralbaard was here: a campfire still gives a cozy light. A strange sight in this broody place. I can see ruins of previous living quarter, a sort of trading square. Some goods can still be seen waiting for ghostly merchants, mostly pig tail cloth in bins and gold crafts. And also 2 large buildings, which turned to be warehouses. One is filled with delicious food and alcohol of any kinds, but I have no interest. The other one is full of crafts and clothing. I picked up a masterfully made golden goblet... and dropped it. That's not what I have came for.

A former dwarven expedition figures can be seen stalking here. I look in their eyes and... I'm shocked, for first time since night encounter.

They are dead. Truly dead. They have no meaning in life nor point in it. My companions don't dare to attack him, and I know why - why would you attack what is already dead?

 - M-m-mournsaints... - one of them mutters when I came closer.
 - What happened to you?
 
 No reply. His eerie gaze pierces through me, focusing on something behind me.

 - Where is the expedition leader? Why would you do this? Have you seen a female dwarf? Or a male human? Anything! - I start to shake him, trying to get an answer from him. It angers me.
 - t-the F-fire-R-ruler of R-rewards... - he and his dead companions sing in a strange choir.
 
 I understand that I won't have any answer, sigh and spew and go exploring the complex defensive system. I can sense the amulet being very close. I can sense it whispering something to me.
 
 ...We stand there, blocked by an ice bridge. The craftwork quarter is on the other side, but I haven't found the lever that opens it yet, so we continue our searchings.
 Sometimes I can't understand if some of those wondrous buildings are ancient or modern. But I have found the "main fortress" of dead expedition - it was built in former tombs complex. Spooky place. While exploring that half-flooded place (water was seen dripping from damaged ceiling), I sense a presence of something. I walk into a workshop room and see...

Nothing.

After a hour of rigorous searches I managed to find the right lever. The big ice bridge lowered with cracking sound, driven by force of ancient obsidian mechanisms. I always loved how dwarven creations often manage to work even after thousand years of exploitation. We descend down from absurdly complex defensive structure of Densecrystal - that's how towering above other fortifications citadel was named - into new-opened entrance into Quarter of Crafts. I check both maps of this place I found in Dinnerwandered and Bralbaard's journal. Nothing has changed since then, only filth from my horde is everywhere now. I look at building that were workshops someday and explore each of them.

There! I can almost touch it in my mind. I charge to a humble craftdwarf workshop, to the second floor. I see a stockpile made for their needs. An oaken bin. It is there.

I rummage in that bin and extract a magnetite medallion made in shape of blazing sun. It is very warm, that's bizzare in such cold place. I put it on me, and suddenly I can see a previous battlefield. My mind is locked on that sight, I can navigate us there.

I don't want to spend more than neccessary time there. Something comes for me. I only allow myself to take a masterful encrusted ring and two golden coins with rendition of blazing sun on their backs. I don't know if they are ancient or not, but they would look nice in the museum.

We walk out of this great city, only to turn back and gaze in awe at this dwarven gem of creation. I feel sad for leaving this place... it's like finishing reading a really good story. You will miss those heroes and you shall never know what would happen to them after all dangers and worries are gone. Would they be happy forever?
I can't say the same for me. I have doubts that I won't feel regret for everything I've done after I'm done with my task. I even doubt if I will ever experience happiness, those simple, but warm moments of love and...

Enough of this. I'm turning into a sassy bearded elf, I must hurry before it is too late.

And so we move back, back to Dinnerwandered. As much as I don't want to say goodbye to my amulet, I have to do it. I have to bring it to the museum.

...The amulet is getting warmer and warmer. It is there. Finally I have found the battlefield that I've seen in my dreams. Trails of frozen blood lead us to one of human corpses, his head is severed and lies not far from rest of his corpse. I inspect his purse contents when suddenly his head animates and watches me closely. Amazed, I drop the purse as his mutilated corpse stands up and tries to stick his head back to it's former place. Then it gives up and just carries it in its hand. It just stands there as I try to bring him under command of my will. I finally succeed at this.

I walk back to inspect other corpses. Bingo. One of those human corpses has a panda fur robe on it and generally fits the description provided in his diary. This is Bralbaard.
He stands up, brought back to "life" by will of unknown forces inhabiting this place. He peers onto me, his eyes locked on my exposed amulet. Suddenly, I know what to do.
 - Have you been looking for this? - I reluctantly take off my amulet and reach my out hand with it to him. Somehow it gets much colder without it. He accepts the gift and only mutters:
 - M-mourns-saints...
 - We are heading back to the museum. That museum where you wanted to bring this artifact. Are you going with us?
 Bralbaard looks at me, confused, like he just woke up and completely missed what I've said. But then he silently nods and joins our hordemind. I think he became happier when he got the amulet that was stolen from him. It's like having a family reunion where you find those relatives you always thought were lost or dead.
Reg is not dead. She's somewhere far, far away from this cold land. But she is not dead. In fact, I think she wants to rejoin with me as much as I want to.

And so, we roll back on the same rails. We razed some human settlements, again, as scared villagers just came back to repair what was left. Too bad for them, but I don't think they worry about their dead cattle and ravaged houses anymore.

We made our way through barren tundra and thick jungles, never stopping for rest. Nothing stops us. We move at phenominal speed, covering many thousands of Urists per day. We shall make it to Dinnerwandered in less than a week, as I calculated.

...What the hell?

I heard ghosts screaming at me in vain attempts to bring my attention to one important thing, as I found later.

We were tracked for a long time by a huge kobold army. Animated creatures move slowly than non-animated, but they aren't slowed with constant need to sleep, rest, eat, drink and do whatever they want. And so then we were ambushed in desert.

Some kobold squeaked, and squads of bowkobold fired at us, rendering a notable part of my army useless for battle. Seeing this cruel act against their brethren, my horde roared in pure fury and anger, and charged at those criminals, only wanting to rip them all in half. They collided with front rows of spearkobolds, and the slaughter began.
We were weaker. Their warriors had much more experience in this than mine, excluding maybe carps and some dwarves I had for long time. They kept "killing" my troops, but I manifested my will on them, "reviving" them again. They kept slashing some of them part by part, but I animated both severed parts and corpses. They were soon overwhelmed by huge rotting mass of ravaging corpses, and every dead kobold was a nice addition to my army. And after many, many hours of endless killing and maiming, they ran away in fear for their life. I even saw a carp biting off a head of some unfortunate bowkobold. He deserved it, bowkobolds was the most difficult kobold type to fight. They could kill anyone in my army in one shot.
I was tired as never before. My head aches after all those efforts I put to force them live again and I feel drained of all of my energy. So, I didn't want to bother with animating all those parts that were motionless: they have already played their roles and now they could just rest in peace. I only made sure that I animated Bralbaard - he still has his goal to accomplish. Someday I will return and gather them into one of my armies.

If I will survive, of course.

[inspiredsimji]

Hello! I am absolutely loving this story so far, and would like to request a turn if that is okay!

[Bralbaard]

Thanks for the updates Tehsapper, I'm looking forward to the final post.

If memory serves, Kobolds and undead are the most common cause of death amongst our adventurers. But why are the Kobolds so prosperous that they are still hunting the wilds when all other races are dying out?

I have listed all the causes of death so far. Indeed, undead and kobolds should not be underestimated.

Logic: Survived.
Antlion: Killed by Tehsil despairdaub, vampire overlord.
Kromgar: Survived.
Brewster: Killed in a kobold ambush.
Siverix: Slain by a Bandit, with a warhammer strike to the head.
Tehsapper: Killed by by a mummy.
Bralbaard: Killed by a bandit lasher.
Sappho: Killed by a mummy.
Spinal_taper: killed in a kobold ambush.
Llamainaspitfire: Killed by a kobold spearman.
Argonnek: Killed by a Grasshopper woman corpse.
Brewster: Killed by a hippo corpse.
Niyazov: Killed by bandits.
Ncommander: Killed by a lasher
Tehsapper: kobolds
Sappho: Survived.
Bralbaard: Killed by a boar corpse

Also Edosurist send me a PM that he will start tomorrow but that was two days ago. Let's wait two more days, we'll move on to the next player if there is no news by then. I've added Inspiredsimji to the list.

[Edosurist]

Well, you guys can move on and put me down the list by... like 5 slots. Some things came up. Thought it was all done, sorry :/

[Logic]

Oh, wait, I made the world go into The Age of Legends? Neat!

[Broken]

Hi

Well, i just saw that apparently my turn has come one week sooner that what i expected. I will begin now.

[Tehsapper]

Heh, this story consists of 65k of symbols. I think that's a damn lot, I never wrote so much. I'm glad I ended this story.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Diary of Sarvesh Worksound the Gills of Crafts, the dwarven necromancer, final entry.


"Days pass after days. We are getting attacked everyday. Everyday we fight them off and carry on - I'm usually too tired to revive everyone.
I don't know why it happiness or why they are attracted to our rotting horde - be it their "good" alignment or some magic. I noticed that everytime kobolds ambush us, Bralbaard's amulet started to emit strange, hot light that even left scars on his neck. This isn't a coincidence. The gods and the amulet don't want us to get to Dinnerwandered. But I don't care what they want, I go my way.
Interestingly, their army is always proportional to mine. They just attack in the same numbers as my army. Now I think that isn't a well-coordinated plan of assassination - they would overwhelm us.
They are summoned from elsewhere to my position.

We are getting closer back to the Dinnerwandered. We have crossed giant wasteland, numerous mountain halls (the same, as always, carnage ensued) and some quiet forest. And we are entering the Hills of Murdering, into the valley where human civilization of Omon Woge built its cities.

And so we ravaged through them. Citizens ran away in fear, trying to "save" their lives. Everyone who didn't do this was accepted into our hordemind. The news of my return came there, raising poorly-trained militia to stop me.
Fools - I cannot be stopped.

Because of my rather famous arrival, they started to run away before I managed to get there, even if I went there as fast as I can. Fear for own life can enhance someone's attributes, forcing to do the impossible and beat the invincible (not in my case).

Honestly I cared more about those unfortunate souls I have left in numerous battlefields that mark my path. I want to pay them for my haste.

...I stand on a hill that gives me a nice sight over a sleeping city of Dinnerwandered. I don't think anyone would ever manage to stop me from my quest. And so I command my horde to gather at the keep of the lord. Before this, I took the amulet from Bralbaard to invoke it. I've asked the essences of many mortal dwarven kings to hear my call. They did answer - in anger at my "heresy", but I managed to contact with other mortal - my sister. I... know where she is. Being a slave to a master in some dungeon, deep under some human port city. She looks rather sad, but at least she wants this "family reunion". I was afraid that she finally forgot about me and those happy times at our mountain hall, after all.

The spoiled smell and loud moans did manage to wake up some of resident humans, but they were too afraid to meet us, instead they locked their doors. We had some clashes with guard dogs that were pissed off because of our arrival, and sometimes bloodthirsty carps broke through the locked doors and killed everyone inside. Horrible screams of having every part torn away, but I got used to it. They can re-enter this world as immortal gods of new faith.

Guards raise alert, as we enter the keep, but no one comes to help them.

Finally.

That familiar hall with marble tables. Bralbaard seems about as excited as I am. He runs to nearby table and takes off the amulet. He peers into it for long time, like he's trying to seek something inside, but then he sighs and reluctantly drops it onto the table.
The amulet becomes red hot as never before! It hisses and goes invisible right on our eyes. I look down the table to check if it just made a big hole and fell through, but no. I can feel it being near, but no visual signs of it's very existence.
Meanwhile, Bralbaard falls limp, and I understood something: with his goal of retrieving Mournsaints to the museum completed, he had no purpose in life anymore, other than just serving my will. He just... fulfiled his meaning of life and so it came into the end. He died happily.
I also left that treasure from my trip to Silverywind: golden coins, crown and rings. I have nothing that connects my goal with museum anymore, so we have to move away. None of the books piques my interest, and I'm not a thief to steal what belongs there.
We made a sort of wheelbarrow and carried the corpse away for proper burial. We stopped at a very nice place near a river, and built a proper tomb for Bralbaard, leaving him and his possessions for everyone to come and honor him.
May his soul rest in eternal peace, forever. I proclaimed this place to be named "The Tombs of Heroes".
And so we went away in a hurry. I have to meet with my sister, I have so much to tell her about those years I have spent without her. I'm eager to finish my life.

Kobolds attack us everyday as we move through endless rivers that bring water to this barren place. Someday, they will get me... or not?"



And so, the written part of Sarvesh Worksound's adventure ended. No one knew where he died, as he had no living and brainful companions. Some rumors heard from captured kobolds told that he was slain on a river that was near a lone mountain, on his way to some human city. That city (where his sister believed to be slain 10 years ago) was preparing to meet his assault, as news of his possible arrival came there. Some adventurers tried to find his corpse to uncover some dark secrets or loot he might found in Silverywind, but no one managed to find described place. At least for this very moment.

Will his soul ever find rest?


Mind of Sarvesh Worksound:

"Pain. It forces me to concentrate from everything else to my soon death.

I knew that they gonna kill me. There is always a chance for a silver arrow to bypass my superdwarven skills and pierce through my steel breastplate and iron mail shirt.

Now they are stabbing me, cutting and severing my limbs as I scream. Internally, my throat is filled with blood. I still roll away from their attacks, but I won't hold for long - it's time for pay my debt. And so, some kobold deals the finishing strike to me.

My soul is free, and is ready to serve it's time, for all I have done"

[GrizzleBridges]

Much as Im enjoying reading the adventures, can I be removed from the turn list please?