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The Loyalists (Led by Pan)

The Revolutionaries (Led by Grimnir)

The Radicals (Led by Brewster)

[shali8]

To my cousin Urist Mcousindwarf

     In his last letter my father asked that I write to you. And so I am. He said that you have taken an interest in politics. Here there is political strife. This place has angry politics. Three factions are wrestling for power; those loyal to the man that commanded the murder of a human caravan, those loyal to the founder, and a small selection are loyal to the Mountainhomes. Anyway, I know how much you love to hear about strange creatures. I recently stumbled upon an imprisoned vampire. He said if I let him out he wouldn't suck my blood. I declined and quickly left his jail.

     This political strife is causing me loads of headache. I support the founder, but I don't want to openly declare that. I am just a miner after all. Enlistment is not the life for me. If there is a fight, I will help as best I can. But my only skill with a weapon is my pick. And my pick has seen better days. My hope is that this political infighting can be solved quickly without need for me to shed blood. My fear is that it will be long and my blood will be shed and Grimnir will not come out on top.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Your Cousin,
                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Artimaus

[Brewster]

Is there a time-limit on turns? Pan's been working +2 weeks. 
I thought it was clear that responsibilities go out the window and Hammerscar is your only priority!

[Pan]

I'll speed things up so Reaver, who's been eagerly waiting no doubt, can get into this.

But yeah, I guess I'll speed things up.

[AustralianWinter]

Is there a time-limit on turns? Pan's been working +2 weeks. 
I thought it was clear that responsibilities go out the window and Hammerscar is your only priority!

There's is no limit - as as Pan updates frequently, I don't think there's a problem.

[Pan]

Big update in 24 hours. Promise. I can wrap things up in a few days now. Done with big assignments lately, so I got time.

[Masked_Hunter1825]

Looking forward to it.

[Pan]

Meanwhile, AW, mind moving your factions list to the first page? Too good to be hidden on page 14 (or is it 15?) like that.

More than 2000 words for the next update. now i just gotta edit my mistakes, make sure everything match up, put the images (not that much this time) in, and we should be done. thats the good news. Bad news is that its 5am Monday morning and I got class in 2 hours.

Sorry. Was really hoping to break my promise as a happy surprise and upload it within 4 hours of posting that '24 hours' thing, But I guess not. Quality > quantity, right?

[Tirion]

Meanwhile, AW, mind moving your factions list to the first page? Too good to be hidden on page 14 (or is it 15?) like that.

More than 2000 words for the next update. now i just gotta edit my mistakes, make sure everything match up, put the images (not that much this time) in, and we should be done. thats the good news. Bad news is that its 5am Monday morning and I got class in 2 hours.

Sorry. Was really hoping to break my promise as a happy surprise and upload it within 4 hours of posting that '24 hours' thing, But I guess not. Quality > quantity, right?

Just make sure it's a masterwork post, and don't kill any named characters 

EDIT: any I certainly don't mind, the later this gets under my command the more time I have to come up with ideas and run some tests to fine-tune them into stuff that actually works.

[Brewster]

No worries Pan, I'm just impatient.

[ReaverAxis]

Is there a time-limit on turns? Pan's been working +2 weeks. 
I thought it was clear that responsibilities go out the window and Hammerscar is your only priority!

There's is no limit - as as Pan updates frequently, I don't think there's a problem.

Would you mind taking me off the list? I've been too busy to actually contribute to this fortress and I'd rather those that have built its story take their turns instead of having to wait for me.

[Pan]

A real shame, Reaver.

Bad news, guys. I got a math test tomorrow, so I'll put the update off just a little more. But after the math test comes my Christmas break, and I should get my turn wrapped up within this week. Thanks for the patience.

[Masked_Hunter1825]

Being locked in a cage is unfortunate.

[Pan]

Entry Six
Malachite

A tragedy befell Hammerscar.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

During the elven massacre of 253, the year under Pan’s overseer-ship, a dwarf had given birth mere hours before it, then been caught out in the crossfire mere minutes after taking a walk in the fresh air. Heavily traumatized, she had thrown down her baby, and immediately withdrawn from society and locked the door to an empty glasswork. The dwarves had kept it a quiet affair, hoping she will snap out of it. And indeed she did, running out babbling nonsense and ripping clothes out, and then locking herself in her room. Being the first mad dwarf in Hammerscar, this severely affected the morale of the population. The mad dwarf left behind a family, however, to care for the child, even though it would grow up without a mother. The grief was widespread.

Pan blamed (not aloud), again, the madness of the revolutionaries for this. Pan hoped the speech regarding this had not been too insensitive.
__________

The following month, however, was an industrious period of work for all.

One of Gavakis’ Wraiths approached his office door to complain about arms. While Pan had no issue with that, the Wraith’s words deeply troubled him.

‘What I’m saying,’ the Wraith had blabbered on, unaware, with a genuine concern on his face. ‘Is that these silver axes. They make me job of killing the tree huggers much harder. The last fight, I had to kill a mule’s head half a hunnerd times. Half a hunnerd times.’

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

 

Pan bristled with anger. He’d like to take this axe to his thick mule skull. But Lorbam stood at attention behind the Wraith, cold eyes never missing a beat. Pan merely nodded at the oblivious roughbeard peasant, and promised to see what he could do. Pan was sure Nav would fix this, even though…

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

A group of haulers were next, complaining on the lack of rooms. Pan felt deeply ashamed to have been occupied on statue gardens and Brewster’s designations, when the commons sleep in the dirt. He agreed to set to the task immediately. He also decided, with the spare stone excavated lately in the Hall of Speakers, that more furnishings was desirable, for the people of Hammerscar. He decided the people might appreciate their living quarters built to look into the Blackdiamond Hall, so all speech will be accessible to them.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The next official meeting was from a random farmer, of the name Lt. Alfred. The underground cave farms, he said, were unroofed over, and roofing it would mean guards no longer need to be posted. Pan promised to sort it out, and told him he would visit the place himself one day to make sure things are done as planned. Pan hoped Lt. Alfred got his little verbal message.

After that, Lorbam had quietly dropped a missive from Brewster. A garbage smasher was to be commissioned. For refuse. Or those who refuse? Pan wasn’t sure. The letter concluded with the briefest acknowledgement of Gavakis’ Chzo’s Wraiths patrols outside the compound, that they were to continue these dangerous patrols. [OOC: Brewster, you never acknowledged this. So I take it you’ll let it happen as it is]

Pan sighed and noted down the designations for Artimaus, who had largely taken over the rest of the miners in regards to communicating with Pan and the other overlords of Hammerscar. The missive also contained a promise of beginning constructions of the great Tower, but later in the year, after summer. Pan was slightly worried. The autumn and winter were cold and harsh, and often promised goblin activity.

Brewster’s insecurities were rising, Pan realized. First the posters that had plagued the halls, now a smashing garbage disposal. Pan hoped nothing would tip this insecurity over the edge.

In fact, of late, Pan had realized that Brewster’s influence has grown drastically. There's the fact that the walls were plastered with Blackdiamond supportive papers, and Brewster now walked the halls trailed with a large entourage of retainers. The new Hall of Speakers had seen Brewster attend much more often, and Pan noticed that a dwarf who oftentimes seemed to give him lessons in speech followed Brewster, an engraver by the name of Atir. Brewster continues to increase his power base.

However, aside from the power struggles, Pan was glad the fortress seems to prosper, and there was a hint of revelry in the air that had revived as grief for the tragedy faded. The Hall of Speakers itself is coming along well. Artimaus and his team of miners and engravers have smoothed the rough stone walls, and the pillars are ready to be engraved. The Stonemasons Guild has propped up sweatshops, and tables and chairs are being amassed from the mass stone. Haulers worked to cart materials and spare stone around. A party of dwarven children ran around, helping with the harvest or even deconstruction works.

Pan was glad of such industry, and reminds himself that all this was at risk should Brewster bring down the wrath of higher powers on them. He had no love of the Mountainhomes' lax attitude of late. But Brewster's (and even Grimnir's) madness would destroy Hammerscar. Surely there were ways of benefitting everyone without Hammerscar's exile and destruction from the dwarven kingdom. Again, he reminded himself why he fights.

But am I willing to go to the extremes? he brooded. A dark thought suddenly blooming forth in his mind.

Am I?

__________

‘And so,’ the masked creature recounted ‘the mask was adhered to me. Nothing could get it off! It was like giant cave spider webbing, and no matter how much I prayed or pried, it stayed on and so did my bloodlust.’

‘I see.’ Pan said patiently. He had visited the vampire that night again, with a dark thought that had developed on his mind. It had corrupted his mind, and he simply had to visit the vampire, whether to put the notion at rest, or raise it up. So far, he hadn’t decided, and so he sat, making ideal conversation with a creature of the night, trying to ignore his intended purpose here.

‘Och.’ The dwarf had paused, although not quite for breath. It scratched itself and stretched before continuing. ‘Anyway, yeah, that’s how my thirst of blood developed. Also how I got locked in here. Perceptive fellow, this Blackdiamond. Strode in, took one suspicious look at me, and ordered his lackeys on me. Thought I was done for, five crossbows leveled at me! But instead I was thrown into this cell. Bloody marksdwarves. Give me back me axe, I'll hack em to pieces! Or just a shield! I won't mind killing em all slow.’

The vampire had started off quiet and mysterious, as if intimidating. But solitary confinement breaks a dwarf in many ways, and before long, when Pan showed little fear (it was hard to show fear when the cause of said fear is locked and emaciated behind bars) the vampire had opened up, Pan being his first visitor in almost a year. Pan had sat through a life story, and now the vampire was making obscenities at the Blackdiamond.

The horrible plan again appealed itself to Pan.

Could I? He continued to question himself. To ally himself with an eldritch abomination… unthinkable! Other than his own quaint sensibilities and morals, what would happen if it was found out? Certain death is too kind a notion to those who consort with vampires. And yet…

Pan gritted his teeth. What must be done must be done. He hates such games, but a bloodsucker of dwarves may be a lesser evil put up with the bloodsucker of the dwarven nation. For indeed, the Blackdiamond could threaten all of Hammerscar if he failed and even all of the Mountainhomes if he succeeded, and for that alone, this was necessary.

Pan made a leap of faith, opened his mouth and spoke.

‘I believe this is one thing we have in common.’ Pan agreed silkily. ‘Truly, in these dark times, I value all allies in these that I encounter who are against these murdering scum. They are all you say and more. And if we can come to an understanding... perhaps I can allow you that wish.' He paused for effect, then promised, 'Axe, or shield, and plenty of blood.’

The vampire skeptically crossed his arms, and presumably raised his eyebrows underneath the mask.

‘Wait… what do you mean. The Blackdiamond imprisoned me, but what are they to you? What do you mean by them ‘murdering scum’? And allies?’ the masked being quizzically inquired. Then he chuckled as the gears clicked into place. ‘You wish to incorporate me in your plans… Other than my company which you enjoy, you are mainly interested in my facility in murder! Maybe.’

The vampire rubbed his hands together and took a seat from his previously oratory, standing position. ‘But first, tell me about the Blackdiamond.’

Pan nodded and did just that. He hoped he looked and sounded more confident than he was inside. Inside, he was lost and confused. He had just made the pact with a devil. Truly, there would be no redemption for him.

When Pan was done, the vampire considered his options. A short period of dead silence followed. Then, the glowing eyes suggested a grin under the mask. Pan knew he was his.

Armok take me.

‘I always preferred my blood tasting of criminal scum, and a side dish of vengeance from locking me in a cell for a year makes it all the more sweet.’ He laughed loudly. ‘If you wish to fight fire with fire, so be it. I am yours.’

Pan left him in that cell, promising action in due time.

Yes… fight fire with fire.

__________

Pan woke in the dead of night, long after his sleepside candle had guttered out, to Lorbam’s battering of his door. He threw on his clothes and followed him, wondering what was Blackdiamond’s matter now?

Blackdiamond Hall was more crowded than it ever had been , the bodies of the important dwarves gathered about the tables, their aides crowded to the side of the room. Brewster took the command chair in the center, while Pan and Grimnir to his left and right. A Blackdiamond stood behind him. The rest of the tables were occupied by Reaver, Tirion, Gavakis, Mason Guild Leader, Nav. An assortment of dwarves, Blackdiamond, Wraith, Laborious Skins, stonemasons, metalworkers and Scruffy gathered by the side of the room. Grimnir ordered all the attendents and aides out, until only the important dwarves wee left.

Pan was confused, as was perhaps the others. Most meetings and speeches of late (usually about trivial matters) happened in the Speech Hall, in full ears of everyone. Hammerscar was a free society, it was said. Yet, here they were, the elites conversing in secret, Grimnir clutching a bloodstained letter. As the commons left the room, Grimnir at last stood and read, so softly that everyone struggled to hear.

‘…Crown’s reinforcements… brigade of marksdwarves… deploy to Hammerscar…arrive at human caravan… signed in the name of the King.’

There was silence. Brewster’s insecurities were rightfully realized. Among the scattered goods of the elven merchants, there had been a letter. A hauler had discovered it searching through the merchant’s clothing. The Crown’s seal had been apparent to all haulers and peasants nearby, before a nearby Laborious Skin confiscated it. Now, Grimnir clutched and crumbled slightly it in his tight and anxious grip.

‘No one must know of this.’ Grimnir broke the silence.

‘But…’ implored Gavakis. ‘They already do. The haulers have spread it about. A letter from the Mountainhomes, it’s contents unannounced.’

‘Indeed.’ Tirion piped up. Many had not seen Tirion in days, until he had emerged from his workshop, with a dazzling golden mechanism.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Tirion continued to talk in his peculiar tone. ‘Message unknown to them. But prone to speculation. Unhealthy amounts of speculation.’

‘I’ve caught one of the Laborious Skins gossiping about that, that is true.’ Reaver muttered darkly. ‘Speculated the Mountainhomes are calling for us to abandon Hammerscar, make way for a reclaim. That without compliance, they will wipe us out with a legion. I told him to shut up with this nonsense, but I doubt he will.’

‘This is most… troublesome indeed.’ mused the Mason Guild Leader. He was ‘Such rumors… We cannot allow that! Work efficiency is affected. My masons must believe they are building at a greater tomorrow. They must believe that the fortifications are turned at greenskins rather than our own flesh and blood.’

‘And since when did the Mountainhomes send reinforcements to their colonies?’ demanded Nav ‘They are here to exert control over us!’

‘Never!’ Brewster slammed a fist on the table.

Everyone started talking at once.

Alone in his silence, Pan was overjoyed. Crown reinforcements? This was glorious news! The Mountainhomes had not abandoned their colony to itself. There was hope. Pan had at first feared it was a letter of the Mountainhomes accusing them of treason, but sending a squad of reinforcements... Pan wondered if this was what Lt.Afred had promised by the Mountainhomes support. A squad of steel clad soldiers, bearing the name of the Crown, was more of a match for the Blackdiamond, he was sure of it. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, Pan rhymed ecstatically and nonsensically in his head.

‘Enough of this!’ Grimnir, the only other one who had remained silent, commanded through the din. Everyone stopped. He darted his head around as he usually did, stood up and paced about. ‘The mess must be cleaned up, the people must be put at rest. I’ll reveal to them about these reinforcements. These loyalist troops will arrive soon. We must make to welcome them.’

With that, the council was adjourned. Now, they waited.

__________

Galena

Pan had been the first to spot them, as he drank on the ramparts in the morning haze. These days of late, he had found himself many reasons to be on the arable compound – supervising a statue garden, supervising the watchtowers, supervising the construction of another barracks.

And it had been so, after a night of conference with Grimnir, Pan had found himself on the ramparts, accompanied by a flask of strawberry wine, a dozing Wraith sentry and his Blackdiamond shadow. As the Blackdiamond kicked the Wraith awake, cursing and muttering at him, Pan had noticed the faint embers in the northern hills. A camp of migrants! The guards immediately ran, the Blackdiamond without so much as giving Pan a second look. They will notify the leaders of Hammerscar, no doubt.

The large group of migrants stopped at the edge of the northern woods of Hammerscar's lands, just ouside of crossbow range. A smaller group gathered and approached the gates, bearing the royal standard, the symbol of the Empire on a pig tail fabric. The light caught them and their armor glittered. As far as Pan could make out, the waiting group left behind were an entourage of migrants, twenty or so unarmed cooks, metalworkers, herbalists and fishers.

The Empire marksdwarves drew closer, within crossbow range, and Pan could see them. Their leader in the center, bearing a crossbow in one hand, the standard in the other. They halted twenty meters from the gate, and the soldiers fanned out in a circle around their leader.

Their copper and iron armor, that had glittered so prettily in the rising sun, were, on closer inspection, dented and scarred from a dozen skirmishes. Bushes of grass and herbs were tied to their limbs, and overland dyes of sliverbarb and mud covered their faces to blend into the overland terrain. There were four of them.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Their leader spotted Pan immediately through the fortifications, and hailed him.

Hammerscar’s first contact with the Mountainhomes had been initiated at last.

‘Welcome to the Crown’s Fortress of Hammerscar!’ Pan greeted the dwarven captain. ‘I am the Overseer, and the fortress welcomes you and yours.’

‘Hammerscar. Is there ever a more welcome sight in all of __ [OOC: what’s the world’s name?].’ the lead dwarf remarked. Did Pan detect sarcasm? The dwarf was a tall and lanky build, long braids and beard of the color orange. Pan heard Grimnir's voice behind him. A welcoming party was being formed.

‘Greetings to you, Overseer. I am Captain Shinn, of the Skyfire Brigade. My brigade and I have traveled long and hard, and we bear with us the Crown's admiration and regards, a letter of reinforcements.'

There were so few, Pan noted with a bitter edge of disappointment. Four hardly constituted any sort of legion... much less one that can have an effect. And their armor was copper and iron, not steel. All the Crown's horses and all the Crown's men, he mused bitterly. 'You are so few. We made ready for a legion.'

'Apologies, my lord. Our original regiment of ten good dwarves had been reduced to us four. A bear got poor Olon, and Bomrek and Urist fell in a goblin ambush. Giant insect swarms ate two of ours alive, and a scum deserted in a nearby human town, though it was good we picked up a crowd of refugees and a human caravan that escorted us here from there.’

What?

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Pan]

Phew. Say, do you guys like long winded entries, or shorter ones? Cuz I hate to bore anyone, but theres so many things to be addressed.

Also, if I missed anyone, it's cuz I was careless or forgot. Sorry. Please let me know if I seem to have neglected anyone in any way.

[Tirion]

Wow, I made an artifact? Tell me it wasn't a possession.