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It was fun for a long time but towards the end it just started to drag

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I wish I could have joined in.

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Total Members Voted: 28

[WillowLuman]

[Again, though, the larger caverns might have wind from warmer parts of the cave (magma pools) to heat sinks (cave lakes, surface openings, etc) And some of the flora down there probably isn't fungal. Quarry bushes, for one, as they have leaves. For all we know, they might even be protists. Trolls can't be mamals, either, as they appear to have haemolymph instead of blood. All in all, some crazy-ass alternate biology down there. But, indeed, mushrooms seem to make up the bulk of the flora.]

"You speak like we. We hear-tell you devour lines-great-evil. But only we speak like we, and She spoke like we. Perhaps unkind we do not come near, but perhaps She created a Thing-Unkind-Many to trick us."

HugoLuman had to think on that one for a moment. Astral projection certainly seemed harder when you were attached to a physical body. They also thought he was actually talking, and responded in turn. If only one of them could meet him halfway, he might overcome the language barrier.

[Gizogin]

Gizo X reviewed his itinerary for the next day.  Most of it was administrativa; he had to order some more steel and brass from the smelters, there had been a mix-up in the hauling system and he had to figure out why he'd mistakenly been given a barrel of hake instead of a bag of plaster, and the manager was refusing to acknowledge "Research for the Betterment of Medicine" as a legitimate job, insisting on calling it "On Break".  He also had a few appointments throughout the day, which he and Gizogin needed to divide between them.  None of that would be until morning, however; now, in the middle of the night, was his time.  Most of the fortress—Gizogin included, having returned an hour previously—was now asleep.

Right, he thought, time to get back to work.  Pushing himself to his feet, the tall android left his business desk in the main hospital room and made his way to his workshop.

The Gizogins' workshop was a sanctuary of sorts.  Here, under its lofty ceiling and amidst the clutter of a hundred works in progress, was where X could truly express himself.  It was curious, perhaps, that an unliving android would care for a place to call home.  He didn't need to eat or sleep, after all (barring extreme circumstances, such as expending all his energy fighting a horde of zombies; in that case, he'd had to shut down to recharge, which could be seen as sleep).  Of course, such an analysis neglected the fact that, for all his mechanical parts, X had a mostly human mind.

The "mostly" is important, for there were some things that X could do that no human (or dwarf, or elf) could.  Calculating, with pinpoint precision, the precise trajectory of an arrow in flight, for example.  Or, more to the point, designing a radically new method of collecting and applying ambient magical energies.

He'd come up with the first iteration of the Core many months ago, and from there he'd improved upon the design time and again, increasing its capacity and efficiency while simultaneously making it more flexible.  The seventh such iteration currently resided within his own chest, nestled in a complicated cradle of wires and crystal.  The eighth, the subject of much of his recent work, was finally ready to take its place.  He owed much of its design to Hugo, though of course the dragon didn't know that.  Over the course of their repeated attempts to figure out Hugo's physiology, X had discovered that the dragon's entire body pulsed with magic.  Something about his unique metaphysical signature made him a near-perfect conduit, akin to a magical superconductor.  It didn't affect Hugo himself too radically, but it had given X some valuable insights into his own work.

The new Core was identical in size and profile to its predecessor.  In outward appearance, it resembled a fist-sized, clear crystal, decorated with light gold filigree and shot through with streaks of white—not chemical impurities, as in a star sapphire or cat's eye, but a carefully constructed lattice to trap magical energy.  At the center was a single, red spot; a drop of Lana's blood.  It hadn't been easy to convince her to give it, but he'd persevered, and the cambion's magic-laced blood now comprised the focal point of the Core's structure.

Gizo X stripped off his cloak, followed by his shirt and vest.  His chest was smooth, the artificial skin free of hair.  He pressed his hand to his sternum, his fingers pressing into a whisper-thin seam invisible to anyone who didn't know exactly where to look.  The android's entire torso split down the middle, opening up like some kind of deranged caricature of a mouth to reveal the complicated machinery within.  He reached his hand inside, weaving between tubes and wires, until he found what he was looking for.

Disconnecting the Core was a deceptively simple task for one who knew what to do.  As long as the crystal cradle was disassembled first, the wires leading to and from it would detach with ease.  Then it was a simple matter to extricate the Core itself from the power collecting array.  X, obviously, was well-versed in his own design, and so had the old Core removed in a matter of minutes.  Attaching the replacement was much more tedious, but a half-hour later, it had taken its rightful place in X's chest.  Immediately, even before he had closed himself back up, he could feel the delicate thrum of power from the Core as it began to collect and store the ambient magic.

"Ah," he sighed, his deep voice cutting through the soft hum of the workshop.  "That's much better."

[WillowLuman]

[You do remember Eric is the manager, right? Not some random dwarf ]

[Remember: we've been reduced to 25 dwarves (not counting forumites and foreigners), making our total somewhere in the 30's. Our entire population could very likely fit into the dining hall. Our fortress probably has the equivalent floor space of a small indoor high school, having been dug out by 200 people who only had a few weeks to do so, hit by a seismic event, and then repaired by a much smaller crew. We are simply not big enough to have real bureacracy, just management. Any cock-ups come from Eric being overworked, not from clerks dealing with numbers while ignorant of the commodity they represent. Between us we have considerable technical and magical ability, but still, the resources we can call on at any given moment are modest. Much of our smelting at the present probably comes from scrap.]

[At least for large loads, I'm probably the "hauling system" XD]

[wierd]

[I tried to reflect that with the food stockpile report.. just a few bags of this, a few bags of that, combined with the recent glut of preserved mutant meat products. By this point, most of the fortress will have gotten over most of the tantrumy badshit from the recent tradgedies, but we won't get any migrant waves until after a non-dwarven caravan shows up. We should give some thought about human and elven adventurers showing up, (possibly seeking to kill Thari.. LOL), as a means to get the word out that the area isn't quite the same kind of deathtrap that it used to be, so that caravans from other races start showing up. Then we might attract local hill-dwarf populations as migrants.]

[Gizogin]

[@Hugo: Ah, I had forgotten.  I'll amend it.]

[EDIT: Actually, I'm not sure how to do that without an annoyingly long rewrite.  Oh well.]

[Eric Blank]

[Oh hell, why wouldn't I list X's job as on-break? ]

[WillowLuman]

ninja'd 2x

[We certainly won't be getting much from our own mountain homes anymore. But it will be a long while yet before we get any trade except from our tower neighbors (who I realize now outnumber us). There isn't anyone else for a long way in any direction, the closest human hamlet being 100 miles. Still, no doubt we'll see caravans eventually, if we get the word out. On the other hand, it might be in our interests to remain relatively unknown. To swell our ranks, we could simply recruit adventurers that wander out this far: after all, Thari managed to nab a larder-full in 10 years.]

[Very soon we shall have a shipload of dwarves bearing our notice of severance from the Mountainhomes, some of whom are likely staying behind (or possibly more, by force).]

[For other sources, there's always the chance of exiles / explorers from the old continent, eventually rescuing prisoners from the Former Apprentice's island fortress, wandering tribes of cavern people, and (oceangoing) shipwreck survivors.]

[Zanzetkuken The Great]

But it will be a long while yet before we get any trade except from our tower neighbors (who I realize now outnumber us). There isn't anyone else for a long way in any direction, the closest human hamlet being 100 miles. Still, no doubt we'll see caravans eventually, if we get the word out.

Actually, there is that Dragonic outpost about 10 miles to the west, across a desert, along with Corai's kobolds a few miles to the southwest.  The outpost would've been restaffed and it would've been hit with the severance to the home citadel, due to the amount of time between liberation and severance, I would estimate the population that was there to be around 40-50 with a crew of elves, dwarves, humans, goblins, and kobolds, dragons remaining at the home plane and more dangerous planar outposts.  They could have a caravan coming in our direction, to deal with the severance and promote trade between the remote areas.  I have no idea what Corai's kobolds wound up having happened to them.

[WillowLuman]

I thought Nicol Bolas blew them up, or something. Pretty sure they got destroyed in a Corai related incident, and that was just before that war that you got recalled to go help with. And the slashdiver's return was pretty much immediately after the war ended. Even if they restaffed during the war, mr. shadowy manipulator would have done his best to RNG them to death. As for Corai, well, he's probably been minding his own business, stealing things from Thari's folk and looting The Great Sparrow's old surface camp in the ruined tower.

But in any case, something must have happened to that outpost, or else they would have contacted us by now. 10 miles isn't so far.

[WillowLuman]

[Double-post. Anyway...]

I do not speak like you, exactly. I try to use... meanings-without-words... very difficult Perhaps a risky response, but appearing to communicate in their language had made them suspicious.

The rats looked at each other, beginning a hastily sussurated conference. "...that mean? Sounds similar Dream-Wise-Wander knowledge of...." "... risky-much, few Dream-Wise-Wander have we..." "...what have we them for, their purpose."

The largest of the rats turned back towards HugoLuman. "Our Dream-Wise-Wander maybe sense-make Meanings-Without-Words, sounds similar Death-Dream-Talking." Two of the rats scurried off back down the hall.

This was encouraging. Perhaps he'd gotten them to bring forth their leader. In a few minutes, more sets of small feet came scurring back up the hall, and in entered the two rats followed by another. This one was almost pure white, including the eyes, and had very pink skin and tail. This skin was heavily scarred, though after a moment HugoLuman could see the scars were in deliberate, spiraling patterns. As this albino-looking rat entered, the others seemed to become very grim. It seemed to look at HugoLuman, though he couldn't tell if those milky eyes had sight, and began to walk towards him. The other rats bristled apprehensively, but the white one remained completely calm. Just as HugoLuman thought it was going to bump right into his snout, the rat stopped, slowly laying down on its side and curling into a ball.

Refocusing himself on the small creature, HugoLuman found, to his surprise, a great sense of openness...


There was not a void; the surroundings were not nonexistent, just utterly indeterminate. Consequently, HugoLuman could not tell if the rat before him were enormous, or himself very small. All he was sure of was that they were on the Astral Plane.

[Gizogin]

[Definitely getting some NIMH vibes here, though I'll freely admit I'm saying this having just pulled a mentally exhausting all-nighter (I've heard that sleep deprivation is rather like being drunk {how would the hangover work?}.  Just a few more years and I'll be able to test it.).  I also read that book many years ago, and don't remember much about it.]

[EDIT: I figured out how the hangover works.  I want to die right now...]

[Zanzetkuken The Great]

I thought Nicol Bolas blew them up, or something. Pretty sure they got destroyed in a Corai related incident, and that was just before that war that you got recalled to go help with. And the slashdiver's return was pretty much immediately after the war ended. Even if they restaffed during the war, mr. shadowy manipulator would have done his best to RNG them to death. As for Corai, well, he's probably been minding his own business, stealing things from Thari's folk and looting The Great Sparrow's old surface camp in the ruined tower.

But in any case, something must have happened to that outpost, or else they would have contacted us by now. 10 miles isn't so far.

No, that was in the crater to the north-west.  The return was not immediately after the war ended, it would logically be a week or two after, considering how the projection room would not be the first place the general would've gone.

Actually, the main hindrance would be the alignment of the desert - terrifying. (The actual fort is on the edge of some grasslands and a small forest a few miles past the desert.)  Who would want to risk sending a small group that would likely be necessary for the survival of the outpost out on a journey they probably wouldn't return from.

[wierd]

[Definitely getting some NIMH vibes here, though I'll freely admit I'm saying this having just pulled a mentally exhausting all-nighter (I've heard that sleep deprivation is rather like being drunk {how would the hangover work?}.  Just a few more years and I'll be able to test it.).  I also read that book many years ago, and don't remember much about it.]

[EDIT: I figured out how the hangover works.  I want to die right now...]

[Really? I routinely suffer sleep deprivation... not the same as a hangover at all in my experience. if you get a headache from it, put yourself in a cool, black (like, literally black out all light sources. Tinfoil works well.) Room, free from noise sources and sleep it off. Best to do that over a weekend. Hangovers are a multi-day thing for me. Different from the sleep deprivation delerium and headache.]

[As for the rats, these are very distinct from secret of NIHM rats. The rats of NIHM were indeed transgenic, but learned to read, and essentially absorbed a good deal of human culture through reading, according to the book. These rats were created under.....very different circumstances... and have developed a decidedly "anti-literary" culture. They view all forms of writing as profanations, that need to be destroyed, some moreso than others. They use nothing but oral traditions, and are very supersticious. Their culture is almost entirely their own, shaped only by the cruelty of their creator, and their sufferance under her "care." Think a cross between australian aboriginal peoples, voodoo practicioners from south america, and ultra-fundie levels of superstition and backwardness woven into a world as only rats would see it. Intelligent, but unlike anything else.]

[wierd]

[OK, less meta, more play.]

Frosty rings circled the bright moon overhead, and he wondered if it really was a moon, or just a clever approximation of one. It didn't matter, he supposed. The air was just as cold, and the frost high up in the atmosphere making the light scatter had picked up in density as the wind blew in from the freezing ocean. Soon, tiny curls and flakes of snow began to drift down, and cover the bworn earth, refecting the moonlight back, and making the scene even more surreal.

And cold.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Asked Lana, taking in the view, seemingly uneffected by the cold at all.

"I'd like it better if it wasn't freezing dew mixed with the snow." Weird grumbled, huddling under the labcoat, and thankful for all the layers he had put on. He would probably come back with a crispy layer of ice covering him from head to foot.

Lana just laughed heartily, in an almost crystalline mirth. "This *was* YOUR idea!" She chided playfully.

"Yes it was..." he grumbled some more. "But that was before the weather decided to make me into a hairy dwarven meatcicle. Aren't you even cold at all?" He asked.

Lana just giggled some more, before responding with a "absolutely freeezing!" In a playful, and giddy tone. "But that's perfectly fine for me! I actually like the cold."

When he got back to the fortress, he would have to make some detailed inquiries about Lana from X and her Brother.

It was just too damned cold, and his pants were literally making crispy sounds while he walked now, his thighs inside them starting to go numb. It was the proximity of the ocean that drove the sapping coldness. Really, the air wasn't that cold; it was all the moisture from the sea it was carrying. It whicked heat away from living bodies like a sponge, and left freezing dew in its place. Abruptly, he decided he had had enough, and stopped to try an experiment.

"What are you doing?" Asked Lana, cautiously.

"It's too fucking cold." He groused. "But we've gone too far to turn back empty handed just because some little dwarven brat wished for a white christmas... so.."

He took a deep breath, and tried his best to concentrate despite the cold. His fingers felt like frozen fishsticks wrapped in wax paper inside the pigtail wrappings of his gloves, but in spite of that, he made things happen in defiance of the climate.

Moments later, several small but very hot orbs of fire winked into being, and with careful concentration on his part, started slow and deliberate orbits around his frame, heating up the chill, waterlogged, and frostbite inducing air around him to slightly more tolerable levels, causing the forzen dew on his coat, pants, hair, and beard to steam in the fire and moonlight.

"Hahah! You look silly like that!" His companion enjoined. "How long are you gonna keep that up?"

"Until we get to the ocean." He grumbled.

"You know it's gonna be like, 10 times worse on the shore, right?"

Weird groaned. He didn't like being reminded of the obvious....


[Note, I am having to play by ear here. Very little good quality mythos on cambions exists outside of TV pulp garbage. I am building on the abilities often manifest in demons, as a guide. Demons in myth tend to inhabit desolate and inhospitable places, like deserts and the open tundra. Extremes of climate do not appear to effect the demonic in a noteworthy fashion, since they aren't strictly spiritual things. Cambions, being half demonic, should exhibit some of those resistances, and aesthetic preferences. A good example of a cold loving demon is the "snow woman" youkai from japanese myth. I am not saying Lana is like the snow woman, and out to get weird, just that she is aloof about the dangers of the weather, and finds his insistence on the errand out in the literally deadly weather ausingly foolish.]

[Gizogin]

[Yeah, when I introduced Lana I was pretty much just throwing vampire and demon traits together to see what fell out.  She's pretty much Dracula with some extra magic thrown in, minus the shapeshifting and the unibrow.  And she feeds off magic, rather than blood, and it takes considerably less effort to make her stay dead, and...]

[She wouldn't feel the cold much, if at all, and the isolation it provides would suit her, so I don't see any problem with her liking the snow and ice.]

"Look," Lana said, trying without success to keep the amusement from her voice, "those little will-o-wisps are pretty, but you're losing most of the heat to the air.  All you need to do is keep the wind and snow out of your clothes, and the layers will trap your own body heat in."

"Keep the wind and snow out of my clothes," wierd repeated flatly.  "That's a fantastic idea, wish I'd thought to do that."

In response, Lana stuck her tongue out at him.  The necromancer just drew his flaming orbs in closer, his features strangely highlighted by the flickering lights.  In fairness, the wisps were drying him out quite well, the moisture steaming off his clothes in a great cloud.  They were also melting the snow around them in a circle, including most of that which was still falling.  It was a workable system, though definitely not the most efficient one.


Gizo X flexed his fingers, the sensation somehow unfamiliar.  He wrote it off as a side-effect of the new Core; as it was filling up with energy, it was also beginning to thread its power back through his specially made magic channels.  These channels were directly linked to his mind, and were what allowed him his uncanny precision with spellcraft.  They also ran alongside his major actuators and through to the ends of his extremities, and the power building in them was influencing their behavior ever-so-slightly (at least, that was his working hypothesis; testing would follow shortly).  It was subtle enough that he might not have even noticed, had he not been on the lookout for just such a thing in the wake of his upgrade.

The trouble with getting a new Core was always waiting for it to fill up.  The Core itself did not collect energy; it merely stored it and shaped it.  The actual collection was done by a separate array of crystal nodes in his lower back.  This array had not been upgraded with the Core, as it was still the most efficient design he could conceive of.

The upshot of all this was that, though his capacity for magic had increased dramatically, his "recharge rate" had not.  It was going to be a long time before the new Core was full, and if he wanted to avoid any unwanted degradation, he wouldn't be able to test his magic until it had completely filled at least once.  By his estimates, that wouldn't be for another two days.  The wait would be almost unbearable.