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Author Topic: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod  (Read 6183 times)

RabidAnubis

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The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« on: June 10, 2012, 11:57:25 am »

Note: The First Three Chapters Were simply Copied over from the Goldenhold thread.  Since there Appears to be no limit on how much a single post can hold, I'm simply going to put everything on the OP.

PLATINUMGOD
Chapter 1: How Urist Died

        He died a month ago, but it feels as if it happened only yesterday.  The blood dripped over the path outside, the red liquid giving it a new paint job.  No one has been able to pick up his remains.  He remains out there, unburied, rotting away in the wind, but moving nonetheless.  Ever since his death the fortress has been in a bad mood, people doing their jobs half-heartedly and without satisfaction.  I wish that I had it in me to write that I was trying to do something to uplift this sorrow, but it goes deep into my heart too.

   I don’t know what to do anymore.  Where Urist went there was happiness.  Despite the fact that the necromancer had risen a siege of what seemed to be billions of body parts, he remained cheerful.  I remember how when I sat at this desk, writing these very journals, he waved at me many a time.  It was an everyday thing, him coming by on his way to work at the craftshop.  Once in a while, despite the horde beyond our walls, he would walk in and ask something like “How’s it going chief?” or “Any migrants today?” and maybe a “What about the expansion to the great hall?  It would mean we could all eat together!” despite the fact that we all know it was impossible for us to afford that at this point.  I would smile and say maybe.  And everyday during one of the break times in the fortress he would smile and say with his endless optimism, “Chief said the wall would come up soon!  Imagine...”  and he would give off tales of how the world was going to be great in a few years despite the fact that winter we lost over fifty of us for various reasons.

   There were only twenty of us left when he passed, and I remember very clearly what happened the day he died.  He had just finished passing by the newborn son of a loving couple, telling them how wonderful there five week son was to play with.  I swear, out of all of us, that baby misses him the most.  He used to go in there and mess around with him, bringing some of the obsidian toys we intended on selling to the caravan that died outside our walls at the beginning of the year, attempting to make some bonus profit because of the danger.

   He then walked down to the great hall.  Well, it never was great and probably never will be, but it is the traditional name.  He walked in there, sat down at one of the granite thrones next to me, and ate a few bites of breakfast.  For me it was dinner.  We lost track of the time a long while ago, only knowing the hours of the day by what the masons told us.  Once every few weeks they go up to the surface hauling small rocks with them.  They look for small holes, and as they patch them up they can see a bit of sun or a bit of moon.  Then they close off nature along with the hand trying to grab them through the tiny gap.  I had been sad that day, getting in an argument with my lover.  When he sat down with me that... morning I guess, he smiled and asked what was  wrong with me.  I turned down telling him for a while, but after a while he insisted.  He was always helpful, and enjoyed trying to make others be as optimistic as himself.

   I explained to him my problem.  I know this is private between me and her, but I don’t think anyone will get a chance to read this anyways who doesn’t already know.  Anyways, the torches in the hall were fading, the coal beginning to burn out.  In the dim light I spoke to him, explaining how I had irrationally yelled at my lover.  He asked me several questions, which at the time seemed annoying and pointless.  He asked if I loved her, and I said, “Of course you fool!  I regret it!”  I didn’t realize she had been standing behind me that entire conversation, wondering how I spoke about her.  When she gasped, I turned around to a hug that slammed into the table.  We fell back and love. 

   Later, we needed someone to carry news to the outside world that we were under siege.  It was the middle of the night for me, some had just woken up, but many had just finished working throughout the day, mostly just busy-work to avoid the pointless grievance of boredom, which drove many insane.

   Optimistic as always, he volunteered.  We all looked at him as if he was crazy.  Only two others went with him.  We loaded their backpacks with food and supplies, wished them the best of luck, and opened up a hidden side door only to close it behind them.

   We could never afford to have windows in this dreaded place, so we waited, and waited, and waited for a reply.  It never came.  Eventually we had to send someone up the tower to tell us what happened.

   He saw Urist banging against our walls mindlessly, the cheerfulness that once kept them up turning into a lack of emotion, tearing them down brick by brick, until the fortress will crumble.

   I’m not sure how much longer it will be until he succeeds.

Chapter 2: Civil War

   I was told to enter my monthly journal today.  I am writing it now, but I’m not sure what to say.  In fact, that is the main issue with this fortress- besides the imminent threat of doom, we have nothing to do but watch our walls crumble.  Many pretend to busy themselves with crafts, entertaining with the same old jokes, or simply doing rudimentary tasks.  The fields must be planted, and they are, but not with much zeal- the dozens who died here had food waiting for them.  They don’t need it anymore.

   Last week however, I organized a spelunking to the depths of our fortress.  I suppose since I’m writing to an outsider I should give off a greater description of how our place works-

Near the surface we have the entrance, the barracks near it.  That leads down a hallway lined with small storage rooms, which leads to the grand hall.  Honestly, as I have already said, the hall is not that grand. 

The hall then splits several ways, to the left and the right of the hall entrance there are factories and craft shops, six hollowed support pillars contain staircases that lead to respective neighborhoods above, and the far end of the hall has a two staircases going up opposite sides leading to the duke throne- and behind that is the duke’s palace.

However, if instead of going to any of those places you go down the staircase in the center of the hall, you will head down a hallway to the depths of the fortress, between the cavern walls, supplying minerals for the top fortress to process.

We were going to the room of the mayor, which was stationed low so he can manage mining.  Besides him, I was the only other noble here, Duke of Platinumgod.  However, the depths of the fortress had not had a food delivery in weeks, the tunnel between us partially collapsing in some spots, holes leading to caverns.

   It was obvious that he had many miners and engravers supporting him over me, and chances are that he has many more rooms than the three I assigned him.  I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had hidden tunnels twisting between the rooms of civilians, bringing out a hidden spot here and there.  I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had dug much lower or between the forts to build his true palace, paying the miners heavily to remain silent.  I wouldn’t have even been surprised if he had an armory to stage a coup against me and declare rebellion, making this place into the Republic of Platinumgod.

   However, after several weeks of no contact I was surprised to find one thing- survivors.  When I had called for us to go down I understood that it had been at least two months - it’s hard to tell down in this damned place - and anyone down there should have starved already.  There was also a necromancer outside.  Because we knew this, the ten of us equipped ourselves with the very best iron we could find, maybe a torch or two for light, and fine steel swords.  It’s not like the dead guards would be needing them anyways.

   So we started our adventure.  The first few hours went by normally.  It was about halfway there that we heard a noise- an evil laugh.  We drew our swords, expecting for gremlins to have snuck in.  Then we heard swords drawing around the corner also- it was so dark that there was no way in telling who they were.  I pulled an unlit torch out of my bag, and lit it.  As the light shown around us, I saw the mayor maybe a foot from my face, dagger right in front of my chest. 

   All hell broke loose.  Some of my men were taken with confusion, not knowing weather to fight or to hug their brothers.  About five of my men died within three seconds, screams echoing through the halls. 

   Knowing the mayor would parry, I stabbed the person to the left of him at the ribs, actually breaking them in with the strength of my sword.  A confirming snap was heard, followed by an uncanny crackle as the sides each fractured a bit more individually.

   He didn’t even scream.  He just hit the ground, unmoving.  The mayor stabbed for my chest, the dagger going through the thick iron for less than an inch.  Then it stopped, unable to go in further.  I screamed in pain as he tore it out, ready to go for the slit in my helmet. 

   I don’t remember what happened next.  The world was swinging around me, the pain making everything seem not to matter.  It was only a little more than a flesh wound, but it was too much for me. 

   I woke up in a bed, my lover sitting on a rock throne next to me.  I asked how long I had been out.

   Rather than answering my question, she pounced out of her chair and gave me a hearty hug, yelling at me at how she’d been worrying so much about me for the past week, telling me to be more careful.  Then she broke into tears.  I’m still trying to get people to tell me what happened, but even the most deceitful among us won’t give away a secret from the crowd.  It only makes me more curious.  I hope nothing bad happened.

Chapter 3: Effects of Kindness

   Here I am again, writing this journal.  It’s this time of the month again.  The plants are starting to bloom along with their weeds, the zombies moaning in a wonderful symphony that echoes through the hall, I had to arrange a few burials for the few of us remaining to go to.  Everyone remains silent about the occurrences that led to those burials and what happened in the tunnel.  I’m still confused, and everyone will say nothing.

   I keep hearing voices though.  No, I’m not going crazy.  I mean a whisper here, a whisper there.  Every once in a while I hear the word Duke in the common conversation, but as soon as I round the corner they change the subject with mock happiness.  I even heard two girls start talking about flowers of all things, and their favorite types of them.  I sort of.... went off at them.  The conversation went something like this.

“Duke......”  Some words that were whispered lowly.  I turn the corner.  “And I mean, I love dandelions, don’t you?”

“No, I prefer roses, they really bloom in the spring.  I saw one not too long back....”  The second one replied, after about ten seconds of staring at me.

“But aren’t roses a bit too..... red?  They dominate the room a bit too much.” 

“But couldn’t you imagine some in the great hall?  They’d really make the place look brighter.”

I had to interject.  After a month of this crap I couldn’t help myself.  “Well goddamn if we could get some roses down here!  Ladies, we live in a FUCKING HOLE!”

They starred at me as if I had gone mad, or was on some sort of mushroom at the moment that clouded my judgement.

“NOTHING GROWS down here besides armok screwed MUSHROOMS!  Do you remember what was for every meal of the day yesterday, prepared by our excellent cook?”  The cook, to note, is obviously shabby, but still a very friendly person.  She used to be a woodcarver, but she takes great pride in her new job.  Unfortunately for her, the pride is not deserved for someone who makes meal of her quality.  “The ANSWER IS MUSHROOM STEW!”  I started to move my hands as I said things in mock preparation.  “YOU THROW A BIT OF MUSHROOMS IN A POT.  Then you take out another MUSHROOM and throw IT in the pot as well.  Then you carry up some POLLUTED WATER from the caves up to the cauldron and cook the meal for about ten minutes, periodically throwing in some of MUSHROOM C into it as a fucking SPICE!”

   I stormed off, turning away from the great hall for my meal.  I was too upset to eat anyways.  I simply headed home and laid down in my bed for an hour or two, staring up at the ceiling.  No one bothered to come in and ask me what was wrong.  Everyone these days is worrying too much about themselves to spare even the smallest slice of empathy for someone else. 

   The only person who had empathy in the dark place was Urist.  Urist is dead now.  I think that says something about what kindness can do to you.

Chapter 4: A King’s Ransom

   I finally figured out what had been going on.  However, the form of it’s delivery was not standard.  I was told about what happened not in the standard form, which would be giving me an official letter of the proceedings about what happened.  This is too formal for a fortress under siege by necromancers with three fourths of it’s population dead.  If it had only been half, we would have been okay.

   The information was not delivered to me in the Platinumgod style, which normally involves barging into my office and yelling at the top of your lungs until I calm the person down and get a sensible story out of them.  Recently however, people have been doing this more as a prank rather than needing to say anything really important.  I enjoy the entertainment.... It’s just that nothing important has happened here lately though besides concerns about our dwindling population, which lead to me passing a decree yesterday that families with children will receive double rations.  Everyone already knew though that I was requesting some degree of... repopulation.  It was meant as a joke, because I know all my subjects on a very personal basis and there was plenty of food to go around.  But it took up at least four hours of my time to hold a court for the law, and there was a surprisingly well acted defense at the time, saying that preserving our dwindling supply of food may be a better option.  At the time I considered it good entertainment.

   Until I figured out they weren’t acting.  It was a very, very real concern.  Although I had often asked questions about why I was the only survivor out of ten, even though I was knocked out near the start and should have been executed, no one had answered me.  This of course raised my suspicions, but people still remained silent.  I had investigated a little before I gave up after my “mushroom” outburst, which for some reason had angered some of my friends. 

   But despite my efforts, my talks with my friends (Which is everyone in the fort), and all other sorts of investigation I figured it out when my cook delivered a piece of bread as my dinner.  Perhaps he wasn’t having a good day like most of us, and I thought I’d let him make it up with something a bit more exciting tomorrow.  Maybe a dinner for two with my dear love.  It seemed stale, so I split it in half.  Then I screamed with an extremely high pitch, and luckily caught myself before the personal cook stormed in, worrying I had been poisoned.  I told him something much worse had happened, and pointed to the maggots crawling around on the inside of the bread, squirming for a bit more fresh grain.  I asked him what the hell was going on, and he simply said he would retrieve a new dinner, and a much more extravagant one too.  I insisted, but he walked out before he answered my yells.

   I walked right past him on the way to the upper storeroom, and he begged me to stop.  Even when he went on his knees I didn’t care, walking right past him without looking back.  A hand grabbed onto my robe.  At first I thought this was one of the undead, a persistent fear finally becoming reality.  I drew my sword, spun around in a circle to the best of my ability, ready to behead this terror.  Rather, I heard a startled cry come from the cook as he barely managed to duck.

   I couldn’t believe it was actually him who did that.  Out of all the people in the fortress, he was the only one left that actually upheld the standard behavior.  He still treated me like the duke, which most of the times was annoying, but today it was appalling that he didn’t.  That was even worse than the lowest educated peasant here, who would only grab me when I knew he was there, or actually had something to say.  Right now, the cook was trying to stop me from exploring my own fortress.  My mouth dropped and I slapped him.  Then I pulled into the granary without looking back.

   The first thing that hit me was the awful stench, so bad it was deadly.  The second thing that hit me was that only a fifth of the room was full, unlike last time I visited where we were so overflowing that I declared a festival in the the name of Armok that didn’t stop until we grew bored of partying.

   I looked at him, glaring into his eyes, boring into his soul, asking for answers.  Suddenly, he was yelling.  Even though much of it was mumbling incomprehensibly, I caught the gist of it.

   I lived because I had been ransomed.  Ransomed for something more valuable than gold.  You can’t eat gold.  But now we were almost out of food.  I asked him who arranged to let me live, and which idiot needed a whipping.  He said everyone.  Luckily for me, harvest was coming up soon and we’d once again be overflowing with food items.  I mentioned this out loud, and he hesitated with a response.  In normal times I would have trusted that nothing irregular was going on with harvest, but as he put out an obviously fake reply I headed towards the fields.

Chapter 5: The Three Methods

   There are three ways to seize an enemy civilization, be it a town, a city, a state, or a nation.  The first is the most obvious, invasion.  To walk in, tear down the walls, bring out your swords, scream to Armok, raise said sword into air, and unleash the gates of hell onto whoever happens to be standing in front of you.  This tends to be extremely ineffective for several reasons.  Firstly, chances are a few will escape, meaning that one day they will come back at you once procreating back to their previous numbers, stabbing you back for what your ancestors did to theirs.  Secondly, going on the assault is extremely expensive in both manpower and wealth, especially if there isn’t a way to escape.  Having no chance to run would only force the defenders to fight harder even if there is no hope. 

   While the undead outside our fort don’t have to be funded, that necromancer could be attacking somewhere else, adding people to his army.  But instead, he is forced to wait for our walls to crumble, otherwise allowing us to regenerate, blocking off ten serpents pass.  I write this as I sit on the tower, knowing this to be true.  With every swing of their fists, their bones crack, the skin deteriorates, the muscle is weakened from an oxygen debt.  I used to ask my parents why the undead hadn’t run over the world, and they simply said because Armok didn’t find the undead entertaining.  That is utter horseshit.  They don’t regenerate, and walking destroys them.  Last month when I came up and sat on the edge, I saw that Urist was in good condition for the undead.  Now as I look into the horde I notice his left wrist is broken from swinging at Platinumgod’s masonry, and he has a limp on his left leg.  His jaw is unhinged in a ghastly manner.  It’s hard to tell from this height, but I can tell it is him.  It would be hard not to.  And although I know the undead will eventually win despite our best efforts, it will be hard to run us down because we will fight like hell, having no where to run. 

   The second one is the theory of internal decay.  This means turning the entity against itself.  The bigger, the stronger, the easier this means will be to crumble the empire.  This is the polar opposite of the invasion.  Let’s say that there’s a mountain with a lot of gold for instance.  However, a duke is rich and powerful that it would be impossible to go there outright and overrun everything, so you hire thugs to maim the bastard heir.  The Duke is occupied by the slow decay of his son, and you pay slightly less tax towards him, like fifteen percent.  As the mayor, your popular.  The Duke doesn’t feel like having to write the papers off and again explaining why he needs the money, he doesn’t want to argue with a bunch of civilians when his son is dying.  You use this money to buy some weapons, ensure your place in next election.  The heir dies, is buried.  The duke demands his full tax.  Send some assassins to kill his lover.  The duke is forced to hire inconspicuous bodyguards because the relationship is unofficial.  This draws money from the military, and the weapons you’ve stockpiled make life easier.  The undead knock on his front door.  You promise to send help but you never do, and you let fear slowly sneak into the populace. 

   However, this theory has flaws too.  Firstly, this could take years or generations to work out, meaning that the father’s goals will have to be the same as their sons.  There is no way to make this work quickly without raising suspicion.  Secondly, these plans require more planning, and the rewards are not instant.  A single thread goes out of line and the entire spool is unraveled.

   The third one is the process of exhaustion.  This involves cutting off what people need most.  So rather than storming the fortress, just cut off it’s migrants.  Rather than raiding for food at the expense of many men, commit a ransom and buy it.  Destroy their fields.  Using this tactic is slower than that of invasion, but can be done easily within a lifetime.  It is more costly than decay, but the wealth spent is just a few comforts gone.  You don’t have to hide either.  If the enemy is bigger just hit and run.  Irritate them.  Force them to lose hope.  So when you finally finish off your enemy, they have lost all belief that they deserve that land.  You have slowly made them more and more miserable and sadder and sadder than before.  They may even die of grief.  You raise false hopes only to crush them.

   When I headed over to the fields a week after talking to the cook (He managed to keep them from me, and infact nothing was wrong with them, just not as much was planted as I would have liked because they had been wrecked) , I found them salted over, destroyed.  My loyal servant seemed stunned by this, and he began to blammer for words, not comprehending what was in front of him.  Having done this action myself, I was not surprised.  The people of Platinumgod need hope, or at least the mayor’s people don’t need to keep us alive as virtual slaves, raiding our food stores right after harvest, leaving just enough to survive.  I want to undo his spool.  I want to live.  And that means meat in large slices, along with silk clothes from Giant Cave Spiders.

I’m dying in style, and I’ll do so with a middle finger raised in the mayor’s direction.  It’s time to go into the caverns.
« Last Edit: June 11, 2012, 11:10:23 am by RabidAnubis »
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Aahhh I can't find the fish cakes in the bunny level, they keep getting enraged and I don't have any holy hand grenades
The Age of Myth: Goldenhold

RabidAnubis

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #1 on: June 10, 2012, 01:19:04 pm »

Chapter 6: Sorry Sweetheart

   There are only 13 people left.  However, there is a big issue with this number besides the fact that it is small.  Only 3 of the people are male, and only 2 of those adults.  This leaves 2 men (Me and my servant), 2 children (1 male and 1 female, around age 5), and 9 women.  There is absolutely no way that only 2 men can hunt safely in the caverns together, so I’m having to pull females for this draft.  In all honesty, the only reason why I didn’t earlier was because I was worried that my love would decide to accompany me when I had a mission, and I wanted to keep her out of danger.

   I asked for volunteers.  She was one of them.  If I said this mission was over because of that, I would be weak and dishonest.  So I went ahead with it anyways despite my head telling me I shouldn’t.  The others were my cook and three widows.  Six in all. It wasn’t seven- that made it an unlucky number.  Looking back, I should have pressed for one more.  But I didn’t.  That made me a fool.

   The old guards from the first attack were buried with their armor on, so we headed in and opened their graves for the necessities within.  We stole them off their rotting corpses without much emotion.  The people of our fortress had already grown insensitive to death, even if it was the demise of a close relative.  As I casually ripped a steel sword from one of the decaying corpses, it grabbed my arm in return.  Opened green eyes.  They had scratches all over them, and without tears there was no way it could repair the damage of time.  It began to pull my arm closer, his other arm gripping onto it also.  I almost didn’t react, too startled to realize what was going on.

   Suddenly a spear went through the side of it’s head, grey matter coming out on the other side as the tip poked through.  Then the spear was ripped out, the grave stone replaced.  I didn’t even thank the person who saved me.  I wish I had.  Then I would have at least thanked her before the horrors that happened to her.  It would have taken a burden off my chest I live with to this day.  But that did not matter.  We pressed on our journey.

   Silence gripped over us as we pulled on the steel door that guarded the way into the caves.  We each had a crossbow and twenty five bolts with us, as tradition mandated.  We slowly crept through the caverns.  At first we went without torches, but that was when the first piece of bad luck happened.

   We were walking along for almost thirty minutes before it did.  I still remember that the curls of my beard were going up in fright as I walked through the cave, the moist ground giving way to my boot because of a nearby pool.  It was slow moving progress- every step we took meant five seconds to unroot our feet, only to have to do the process again and again and once more.  We did this in the dark so we wouldn’t scare anything off.

   Something grabbed my arm, clawing into it almost.  It would have been painful if I wasn’t wearing steel chain, and I felt that whatever was grabbing me was pulling itself closer to me.  However, it was my sword arm, so I couldn’t lop it’s head off.  So I simply drew my arm back and in one mighty swing slammed my fist into the face of the attacker.

   That’s when I realized I had just punched the woman I have a romantic interest with in the face.  She screamed loudly, howling in pain.  It was a serious problem, and I felt horrible for it so I tried to help her up, but she would have none of it.  She screamed, yelled, and shouted at me.  In all honesty, that made me feel like as if I might have killed her if she had grabbed my other arm.  Then it would have been a sword instead.

   I ordered one of the widows to light the torch.  In all honesty, the skin around her eye was sore and there was a slight amount of blood dripping from the area around her blue eyes.  She said something to me, but I didn’t notice.  Or care.  She slapped me, but I remained shock frozen.  I would have apologized. I didn’t though because I saw IT standing right behind her.  When she turned around she screamed in a pitch so high I was surprised that I could hear it.

Chapter 7: Slow Combat

   It was one of those awkward moments where two enemies stare at eachother, looking the other one in the eye, appraising the abilities of the other.  It wasn’t a spider.  It was a giant white lizard- it’s eyes were gray, seeing through everything.  Gills ran through it’s side, but because it was still breathing I’m assuming that it had lungs too.  It’s red tongue flicked through the air, the only thing on it seeming to have any sort of color.  I think it may have been a giant olm, but I’m not certain.

   Of course these weren’t the thoughts going through my head as I looked at it.  My thoughts were loudly voiced in the form of me grabbing my love and pulling her quickly away from the monster, making her squeal once more.  It lunged a second later, plowing a few feet through the mud and burying itself deeper at the same time, but she was far out of range.  I managed to quickly pull my crossbow quickly and fire at it’s eye.  After going through a siege with a necromancer and shooting bolts down into the horde, everyone here was at least proficient with one of these weapons.  So my aim was true, and the half blinded beast let out a scream of rage.

   The others fired their bolts at the beast too, and soon both eyes were blinded.  That’s when I realized a fault with our plan- the beast obviously did not rely on sight down in these caverns.  It probably relied on smell.  And it certainly smelled me as it’s vision shifted.  It lunged, and I sort of trotted away from it.  It wasn’t really running because the mud wouldn’t allow that, sucking itself into a person’s boots and holding them down.  The faster a man tried to move the slower they did.  A shot a bolt into it’s mouth after a quick reload.

   This did not stop it however, and it was about to lunge again when a few more bolts ricocheted off it’s scales, annoying it.  At the same time we both realized that the crossbows were not a threat, and it focused back on it’s royal snack.  I slushed my way out of danger, but the lizard snapped it’s head towards me, and with only a slight movement I would be within it’s mouth.

   “Bring out the axes!  The arrows do nothing!”   Only a few of us actually had axes, but the point was taken. Three widows followed my lead as I spun around and swung my steel sword down between it’s eyes in a mighty overhead blow.  It was not fatal, but the scales seemed to be crushed in the center of it’s head, a slight dent.  I did not have time to strike again.  It was the beast’s turn.  It’s mouth opened, ready for the bite.  It lunged at me and-

   -ate Maradlin.  She was the lady who had saved me from the undead earlier, and her husband was one of the earliest ones killed in the initial conflict.  Her iron boots kicked and her legs struggled, but when the brave dwarf jumped into the mouth of the beast to spare me we all knew it was over for her.  I stumbled back for a moment, stunned by this sight.  Soon blood began to spray out where her meaty thighs met the mouth of the oversized critter, and after a few more courageous kicks it was over for her, the body limp as the beast began to try and swallow her.  Her spear did not clatter against the marsh as it landed, it simply sunk and was never to be seen again.

   It was not over for the rest of us however.  The beast could do nothing else while it swallowed Maradlin.  It simply began to chew as we hacked at it.  Overheads landed on it’s spine.  Underhands slammed into the lizards weaker belly, green ichor spilling out.  Sideswings from both sides landed on it’s head, and one of the widows pushed a spear through it’s chest with a mighty effort never seen before.  It just finished swallowing it’s last meal before it passed out, and we continued to beat on it until it was over.

   At the time, no one thought of the death of the hero but me.  We were so used to the dead around us that one of the widows simply shouted out, “Who’s up for dinner?”

Chapter 8: Like a King

About a week after the hunt we finished butchering the massive beast.  However, in preparation for this extra food I ordered our miners to cancel making a new field and instead focus on building up a new “Secret” fortress, just like the mayor probably has.  We hid the hatch nearby the iron door, but still within the reaches of the cavern.  It’s only a short walk away but we are fairly certain the mayor isn’t nearly as crazy as we are.  No sane man would ever go into the caverns to kill his most hated enemy.  But with the loss of population most of us have lost our sanity.  Now I simply hope that the mayor still has his.

   Otherwise, things are going well.  The secret fortress has both miners, both kids, along with the butcher operating it, expanding it, and feeding it.  Along with this new involvement we discovered two more things.  Firstly, the stomach acid is incredibly corrosive.  We originally placed two pots full of it in the new stockpiles for later use, but the rock began to corrode, allowing some of the acid to seep through.  Since then we have casted the pots in iron for an additional layer of protection, and it appears to be holding.  We are currently debating weather to use this on the necromancer or the mayor’s people.  In addition to this, we buried our hero in a quick funeral.  And I mean in thirty seconds.

   After two weeks the mayor’s thugs came by for a visit, and they found the granary empty.  I had been returning to the secret fortress at the time, collecting some of the documents from my office.  I heard them before I saw them.  But they didn’t see me when they turned the corner.  They continued to walk down the hallway, right past the column where I hid.

   One of the dwarves spoke to the other in a loud, cheerful voice, “Granaries empty!  Just like boss expected.”

   The other one returned, an angry tone in his voice.  “No, he didn’t expect that.  He expected them to have another harvest in by now.  Perhaps we should go check the field, the bastards might have put off harvesting....”

   After that they began to bicker at at one another until they decided to head to the fields anyways.  I followed them stealthily, but they never even checked their backs.  When they arrived at the fields they saw it was salted, and idiot number one gasped.  “Boss won’t be happy with this!  We won’t just be starving but we’ll have no chance to grow food!  Damn it!”  They looked towards eachother, worry thick on their faces.  They began to try and format what to tell the mayor.

   “We could try and fix it!”  The first one yelled back.
   “How do you plan on doing that dimwat!  Clean up all the salt today?”  The second one returned, his face flushed red in anger.
   “Well, we have a week until we have to get back.... we could work for today and tomorrow and be a day late.” 

   They were both so stupid that neither of them realized that salting the fields meant they would be unusable for the next hundred years.  But, they began to work.  And work.  And work.  After about five hours they were sweating and tired, close to complete exhaustion.

   “Okay.  I think we should start heading back.  We just did nothing.”  The first one said, panting.

   The second one returned, breathing through his lungs like bellows.  “Yeah.  We’ll be back a day late.” 

   I couldn’t help but be dramatic as I stepped out from behind one of the pillars I was stalking them from.  “You’ll be home much later then that.”  They spun around, drawing their weapons clumsily.  I shoved my blade through the neck of idiot number one, his body falling over itself as it landed on the ground.  The second one lunged at me and I slapped him with the flat of my blade, sending him  spiraling to the ground, landing on his knees.  I stabbed both of his ankles, maiming him.  Then I proceeded to lop off his wrists.  For some reason, I enjoyed killing him slowly.  I ran my blade down his back, but he just screamed. 

   Then I just left him there to die.  I returned to our secret fortress, into the barracks since none of them had private rooms.  “Announcement for us all!”  I yelled into the single room.  The beds were really just off to the side of the new farms we were digging.   Everyone looked at me, wondering what the heck a formal announcement was needed for.  “The bastards decided to try and raid us once more, but they found nothing.  Apparently they are running low on food, and we should be able to reclaim the whole fortress soon.”  I looked at the barrels tossed one on top of the other in the corner of the room.  They were stuffed with the meat from the olm.  “While they rot in their dungeons, we will eat!  While the bones of their bodies fall through their corroding skin, we will eat!  We will eat like kings!”

Chapter 9: Peace for Once

   Alright- no one has died this past month to my knowledge, mayor or duke.   Which I suppose is a good thing for us... I’m not sure.

   However, I will admit it is more important that none of them died, meaning that they have more mouths to feed.  And I’m supposing this new threat of starvation is not improving the morale of the mayor’s thugs.  In fact, some have already abandoned him.

   But that is to be further below.  Right now I need to give a small state of the duchy addresses.

   Firstly, things are going well for us.  We have food, and although we have to share beds you’ll never go to sleep without one.  And they are always warm from the previous person resting in it.  Who thought poverty could be so comfy?
   The food should last us until the first harvest comes in.  Until then we have to wait.  And wait.  Things will probably go back to the boredom we had before, but at least we’ll be bored with an intense purpose.  Would that be intense boredom?  I’m not sure.  I’ll ask Kritna about that.  Should keep me occupied for a few minutes. 

   Anyways, I mentioned deserters before- we found three of them.  A married couple along with their adolescent son.  It was awkward for the first few weeks but all three are miners and that helped us speed up progress considerably. 

   This leaves me with nothing to do.  I used to help mine but the family needed picks, so I handed them mine.  At first I was happy with the chance to relax, but now all I do is lay around.  I walk the caverns every once in a while, and I swear something- or someone- is following me.  I turn around quickly every time (Or as quick as the mud will let me without spraining my ankle), but all I see is a shadow speeding away by the time I light my torch. 

   Yesterday I waited until the thing was within ten feet of me.  Then I lit the torch in front of me before spinning around, but the thing had simply disappeared.  I am curious what this is about.  I’m also curious why all the cavern creatures flee when it is there.  I’ve tried to see if it’s friendly, but no contact has been made.  Yet as soon as I unlighted the torch I see it wonder into my peripherals, right behind me...

   But it never follows me into the safe confines of our outpost.  And I don’t think it ever will.

Chapter 10: Sideways Glance

   I see it out of the corner of my eye as I write.  I regret asking for a private office.  I really do.  But the miners saw to as I commanded, since everyone else already had private bedrooms.  However, we are running out of coal which oftentimes means the rooms are only lit by a single small torch.  The darkness surrounds me as I write this.

   I’ve been seeing a lot of it lately.  It has been getting bolder in the ways it appears.  I remember patrolling down the abandoned hallways last week, when I was walking with my lady and two other guards....

   I spotted it in the far right of my peripheral vision.  I looked slightly to my right, but it didn’t disappear this time.  It simply stayed where it was, but it was slightly less visible.  I looked further to my right and this time it was gone.  However, I had stopped walking.

   They looked at me, and I turned to address the motion.  “You okay sir?”  One of the few remaining citizens said.  I stammered as I replied, “Of....”  And left the sentence hanging.  I swore I could see it in the furthest of my vision then, and very clearly as white mists slowly moved from it.  It was right where the guards had just been looking. 

   However, as I turned my head slightly naturally, they followed the motion, raising their torches.  But it was gone.  “Do you think something is wrong?”  They looked at me once again, frowning slightly as they wondered what I was doing.

   “I think we may be being watched...  I’m just a bit suspicious.  Should we head back?”  They didn’t think I was being serious.  They simply laughed at me.  I saw it once again in my far left, and sweat had begun to gather on my forehead.  I wiped it off with the hand not holding the torch.  That only brought more chuckles from them. 

   “We have to repair the wall and go up the tower to check on the necromancer.  He may have gotten bored.”  This only raised their mood further.  The necromancer was probably on the outside, forcing Urist to bash his fists against the wall for all eternity.... day after day after day.  But the simple stupidity of this hope made them smile like schoolchildren.

   We started to walk once again, and for about fifteen minutes there was peace in Platinumgod.  But I heard a fifth pair of footsteps.  For five minutes grew louder and louder and louder.  It was the sound of hard boots moving on stone, clanking with every step, echoing in the halls.  It gave me a shiver down my spine.  It was probably behind me, raising a knife to my back.  “WHOS THERE!?”  I spun around and screeched, and the fellow guards looked at me like I was crazy, the small amount of torchlight reflecting off their steel helms.

   It was gone of course, and they looked at me, the two guards starting to laugh once again.  “Hardrock, the chance we are being followed is about the same that Goldenhold has fallen.  Stop wetting your pants and get back on the mission.”  This time it was my lover, and this was the first time she had said anything about this.  She hadn’t laughed with the others.  A look of serious concern was on her face.  She was doing her best to be funny and make me smile, but the tone of her voice failed, far too deep and solemn to make me even feel slightly relieved.  It achieved making me feel worse however.  But she was right of course, this fortress was too large and the population too small for things like this to happen. 

   We took a left turn, and I half expected to be stabbed in the gut as I spun to face the new hallway.  But nothing happened.  And as I continued to go down the hall, I heard a squeal behind me.  I spun around quickly, drawing out my sword.  This time, all the other guards had done the same.  But it was just a rat, the grey skin pressed against it’s ribs from hunger.  One of my guards showed it mercy.

   And we continued for the next twenty minutes.  As our boots clanked against the floor we had to pull out new torches and continue our journey to the tower.  These were the last of them, each one of us brought two with us.  We decided that we could bunch up a little closer and light only two, and we did.  The darkness grew ever more present, and it began to feel more like something you could feel rather than see.  It seemed to have weight, and every action seemed to take double the energy to commit to.  Every single sound we heard caused us to stop, forcing us to identify it.  But nothing happened.  Everyone was alive when we made it to the tower. 

   We arrived to the tower and saw the holes the zombies had clawed into it.  Their fists were covered in their own unholy blood.  Urist grabbed in my direction.  It was day time outside from what I could tell.  “Necromancer is still here!”  One of the guards said jokingly.  They patched up the holes, and one of them headed up the tower only to come down thirty minutes later with a negative on the necromancer.  It was to be expected.  They joked again, and this time I laughed with them.

   They looked at me, and began to laugh themselves.  She began to laugh also, and she said something about me going mad, smiling in the way only she can to lift my heart up off the ground.  I had to lean over and face the ground in order to catch my breath, and as I looked up I dreamed I would see her wondrous smile. 

   I stopped laughing instantly, my pupils wide in my eyesockets.  His skin was totally white, along with his clothes.  He had no black in his eyesockets, just white globes moving around as a sign of motion.  His gray duke’s robe had whisps drifting off of it, almost like a personal cloud hanging above his feet.  His hair was long but well kept, just like his double braided beard.  They were both white, but it was the white of old age.  The bags of skin beneath his eyes lowered further as he pulled out a knife and walked up behind her.  He raised his hand to strike-

   I let out an indwarvern howl as I saw my father.  They spun around instantly, and he was gone instantly.  They turned around and looked at me, but this time they were all concerned.  However, I still heard laughing down the hall which we came from, loud as ever and slowly drifting as we headed back, my sweethearts hand guiding me to certain doom.
« Last Edit: June 23, 2012, 01:14:17 am by RabidAnubis »
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The Age of Myth: Goldenhold

RabidAnubis

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #2 on: June 10, 2012, 01:19:31 pm »

Chapter 11: Burns Without Fire

   I am going to put this rather simple- we went down the hallway again.  Not the one to the tower.  The one to the mayor’s lair.

   I met no ghosts, saw no visions, and had a total grip of my mind as I trotted along, carrying a pot.  I brought everyone.  In Platinumgod that is only slightly more than ten people as you feel the moisture of hallways rarely passed splash beneath your feet as you head to the dragon.  You’d expect the endgame of your fate to come slowly, but it was surprisingly fast to be honest.  I didn’t consider anything about my life as I did what I had to.  All of us wore steel boots on our feet though.

   We purposely let the mayor’s sentries hear us, the clanking of our boots on the cold stone floor.  They came around the hall, screaming and yelling at their comrades.  Some of them shouted threats, and cursed us to go burn in the deepest pit of hell.  We smiled, but everyone in my party said nothing as they approached us with their worn socks on their feet, rusty swords in their hands, the skin pressed against their bones from malnutrition, their eyes sunken in their heads.  A few months ago they would have been our brothers. 

   But now, now we poured the acid on the ground and watched them scream and writhe in it.  It burned through their socks first, sizzling.  Fear filled their torchlight eyes, but no amount of begging would stop it.  The soles of their feet were next, and the smell of burning flesh filled the stagnant air of caverns deep.  My nose would have twitched if I was not used to the smell, but right then I hardly noticed it.

   Without their feet they fell into the acid face first, which was a mercy.  More awful stench filled the air.  Despite their position it took them five long minutes to die.  They only screamed for the first three I’d say though.  Then the acid filled their throats.

   We had slain five of the mayor’s henchmen.  He couldn’t have many more.  We walked around the acid pool, into their storeroom, and stole all the food that was for the mayor and his closest.  All the mead, all the bread, all the meat.  We weren’t hungry, we weren’t thirsty, but we took it anyways just to make the traitors suffer.  What we couldn’t take with us we set to the torch.  That’s how the game of Platinumgod works- you win or you burn.  There is nothing in between.

   We decided to head back though, away from that grisly scene.  Those bodies didn’t deserve to be buried.  It would be a warning to them about what we do to traitors. 

   We burn them without a fire.

   I laughed at their suffering when we returned, and every last one of us drank a bottle of mead to the god of war, and a bottle of ale to the god of fortresses.  However, I drank a third glass of wine.  This glass I dedicated to Armok.

The god of blood.  I know he watches Platinumgod with great interest.

Chapter 12: Duke and Duchess

   Nothing major happened this month- for the fortress at least.  For me, much has happened.  But everyone has been entertained at least.  Well, I’m just going to write what happened to everyone and let whoever gets the chance to read this goddamn thing be the judge.

   After that encounter with the gho- okay.  I’ll be fair here.  No one else actually believes that it was a ghost.  They can go to hell.  I believe it was a ghost so I’ll reference it as such, because this is my journal and I’ll do with it what I’ll like...

   Either way, I was terrified.  After the initial consolations by the other men they stopped caring once my face didn’t look like marble.  This took about an hour, so I understand that they were done.  Rooms had to be mined after all.  They were happy to be busy.  Some one or another had to leave to go scout.  I didn’t really notice.  No one really wanted to talk to me and rumor quickly spread through the ten people here. 

   However, one person stayed with me.  One person I have been seriously neglecting.  Even reading through this journal I realize I’ve only mentioned her a few times, and sometimes I even post her as a background person.  She said that it was okay, and mentioned how I had saved her from the beast.  But if I am brave and loving then I like mushrooms as a spice.  I am as much of a fool as I am a dwarf.

   However, she is not.  She stayed with me, knowing that I was still hurt- and I told her everything.  I didn’t leave a single thing out- it was natural for me.  She was jokative without being rude, and the humor made it easier for what I saw to bear.  She stayed with me until I fell asleep from, and then I woke up alone- it was as if I was falling into a void, but without even the contact of air to keep me company.

   I never wanted to be alone again.  I decided that it was time for us to stop ignoring eachother because of our troubles.  Love is strongest with a challenge, and both of us are used to the struggle.  We already had a son a few years back, and others already called her the duchess after the twenty five years of courting, but it was never official.  The gods never heard of my affection for her.

   So I had the blacksmith forge me a platinum necklace with a roll in his eyes, and she walked in a few days after we had sacked the mayor’s supplies and asked me if I needed anything.  I said no but mentioned that she did.  She turned her head, curious.  Her eyes looked into me, and I knew it was the time.  Then I handed it to her, a blush going across my face despite all we had been through.  She did the traditional dwarvern marriage ritual- she put the amulet around her neck and slugged me across the face with her fist.  It was romantic.

   The feast was fantastic- in short we burned through all the fine wine the mayor had stocked up, and there was rock music.  We had enough rock instruments to create a band and we did- a horrible, terrible, armok damned band.  The screeching of the metal against the harp, the terrible coordination on the part of the flute.  We didn’t have much selection.

Chapter 13: Halls of Death

   It was dark, and it was eerie.  When there’s a necromancer outside, you pass up every coffin expecting a hand to shoot out and grab you.  My footsteps felt loud in the silence of the long hall, passing coffins. 

   I didn’t know why I went down there.  Or what purpose there was to it.  I’m not even sure if there was one besides ceremony.  But as I passed each coffin a look at them, the engravings.  Some had the names of my friends.  But none of my family.  As nobility we get our own tombs.

   But many I never knew nor had a desire to.  To me they were just peasants- the scum of the earth not worth bothering with.  They had simple coffins, stacked one on top of the other.  A small inscription in the front of each gave their name, profession, birth and death date.  As I go further down the death dates gradually start to not appear anymore, but the bodies are still in there.
   
   The warrior tombs had a bit more flair.  The warrior tombs actually had small holes dug out just for them, allowing a few personal possessions to be stored for the afterlife.  In one of these coves I saw a toy forge collecting dust.  Inscribed:  B. 512 D. 524.  Goblin Ambush.

What cruel god could send a boy soldier to his death?

May he rest forever.

The tunnel seemed to never end as I walked down it further and further.  Four hundred years of history passed by as I walked, but I was in truth heading to the end.  The coffins started to turn to marble as the fortress dug deeper.  Then up came a left turn.

I took it into the noble’s room.  Here, the coffins were made of iron.  Every grave had it’s own separate crypt, with only their spouse buried with them.  As I come across doors unopened I read the plaques above them- marriages of alliances and the rise of Platinumgod.  Some of failings- like the mutilated body of the Red Duke of Platinumgod.

I guess I’ll write his story.

Interlude: Red Duke Of Platinumgod

Born 6 Granite 463, The Age of Myth

   Dwarf women tend to be tough.  Dwarf noble women tend to be angry and needy.  This makes them undesirable, but there is really no way to turn your back on them.  After all, politics is important.  A few hundred years ago though, the heir to Platinumgod was forced to marry one of these women.  They had a true born son, heir to both Platinumgod and Steelridge.  As neighbors, the combined realm would have had the power to declare independence from Goldenhold.

   But that is not what this story is about.  No one tells this legend because of how this caused the failure of a rising power.  They tell it because of how the assassination went:


   
   He had just finished cheating on his wife.  He walked out of the room, his grey beard tucked into his belt.  A sword at his hip shined with the look of new steel.  His red vest covered his chest against the cold winters that came into the valley outside platinumgod.

   And he looked to his right, screaming as he saw a dwarf with a knife and a buckler approach him, his face hidden by the cowl of his black cloak.  The assassin could have ended the Duke’s life then and there.  The duke began to draw out his sword with his right hand but suddenly stopped.

   He had no more right hand.  The assassin had lopped his arm off with the knife in his hand.  Why he didn’t end the Duke there and then was a matter of tradition, still time honored to this day. 

   You see, ending an enemy has to be an art- the louder he screams the more the gods hear of their creations.  A simple stab to the neck is considered dishonorable because of this- a killing should be gracious and slow, the sounds of yelling and pain acting as a harmony of the world.  Pushing them into lava is double the glory.

   The blood began to spray out of his arm, staining the floor.  But he ran, faster than the assassin on his two light feet, faster than the wolf prowling at night.  Some say he ran faster than most gods on a good day.  Either way, once the sweat began to pound off his forehead he saw he was in a cavern.  Between losing his arm and reaching this point he only remembered screams.  And the laughs.

   But for now, as he sat down, he only saw the cliff behind him, looming over the waters of the deeps.  Moss beneath his feet made it hard to move, and although there was little light he could see some of his blood leaving a trail.

   Suddenly, he felt very weak, and very tired.  His skin was lighter than normal.  It was only a matter of time before- he heard footsteps.  Multiple footsteps beating against the cavern floor.  Suddenly instinct won him over.

   He dodged a bloody knife to his throat, drew his sword with his left hand, and failed to block a supposedly killing blow with his clumsy counter attack.

   But it wasn’t fatal- his intestines were just pouring out of his stomach.  The duke sheathed his sword.

   But when did intestines ever stop a true master of the sword?  The duke pulled out the blade, throwing it to the ground.  Then he once again unsheathed his sword.  Another knife flew at him, he took a step back, the knife going right over his head as he went down over the edge of the cliff, into the water below.

   He fell, screaming.  He lived however with his broken leg that hit the rocks at the bottom.  He tried to swim but didn’t know how, but slowly he managed to walk his way across the bottom, his boots entrenching themselves in the much.  Just before he was out of breath he steamrolled up a ramp, and lied dying beneath a fucking mushroom that would eventually be used as a fucking spice.

It took him three weeks to die.
« Last Edit: July 22, 2012, 10:00:39 pm by RabidAnubis »
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The Age of Myth: Goldenhold

RabidAnubis

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #3 on: June 10, 2012, 01:19:51 pm »

Reserved
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The Age of Myth: Goldenhold

Argonnek

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #4 on: June 10, 2012, 02:16:39 pm »

An excellent chapter! Also, the character limit on a post is 50,000 characters I think.

RabidAnubis

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #5 on: June 10, 2012, 04:09:54 pm »

An excellent chapter! Also, the character limit on a post is 50,000 characters I think.

40,000, and thanks.
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The Age of Myth: Goldenhold

Eric Blank

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #6 on: June 10, 2012, 10:46:05 pm »

That's a rather interesting plot to go on, honestly.
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I have no idea where anything is. I have no idea what anything does. This is not merely a madhouse designed by a madman, but a madhouse designed by many madmen, each with an intense hatred for the previous madman's unique flavour of madness.

RabidAnubis

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #7 on: June 11, 2012, 11:17:35 am »

:)

I needed an instigating action anyways.

And update!  FTW!
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The Age of Myth: Goldenhold

Playergamer

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #8 on: June 11, 2012, 06:33:29 pm »

Nice. I should have expected the fields being salted.
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RabidAnubis

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #9 on: June 12, 2012, 10:50:29 pm »

Well, he did it himself to force the expedition...

UPDATE!
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Argonnek

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #10 on: June 13, 2012, 12:14:12 am »

These guys just can't catch a break, can they?

RabidAnubis

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #11 on: June 13, 2012, 12:20:28 am »

These guys just can't catch a break, can they?

If there was a necromancer laying siege to your city would you be able to take a break?
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RabidAnubis

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #12 on: June 15, 2012, 01:37:39 am »

UPDATE
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Argonnek

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #13 on: June 15, 2012, 02:05:00 am »

There shall be a feast! Sort of.

RabidAnubis

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Re: The Age Of Myth: Platinumgod
« Reply #14 on: June 16, 2012, 09:41:13 pm »

UPDATE!
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