Well, this was part of a bigger update which isn't done yet, but seeing as you like silently watching, watch this.
The sound of a pen scratching paper again fills his chambers, and his beard brushes on the table in front of him, only to be pushed away with a trembling hand so Th4DwArfY1 may better see what he has written. A knock sounds on the door and he frowns, casting an annoyed glance at it. A timid voice drifts through the wooden door. “S..S…SSir? When are you going to return to your duties? Sir? We need you!” The plaintive voice of Timeless Bob falls on deaf ears, as Th4DwArfY1 returns to his page, losing himself in the elegant sweep of the pen, the smell of ink on paper.
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Today, on this the day that NAV met his doom, a feat of craftsforumship unrivalled by any was under taken. The members of the fort lined the hallways, crowded the clothiers shop in which the young Forumite worked, sweat streaming down his face to mingle with his cloths. No cost was spared, the finest materials were hewn from the depths by Apiks, the gems cut to a sparkling sheen. When it was finished, held aloft triumphantly, a sigh rippled through the crowd, for with this last undertaking the memory of NAV was doomed to fade. But to this day it is said that any who wear that hat have the aim of NAV, the heart of our most venerable citizen, and it is an object more prized than the crowns of Men.
7th Galena
A fit of sorrow sweeps through the fortress, but soon is drowned in booze and alcohol. In the ancient tradition of Forumites, we drank long into the night, striving to forget his fate. It didn’t work, not this time. But soon we were struck with a new sorrow, one unforeseen by any.
I went to my private study, full of sparse furnishings. My knees jarred as I half collapsed, half knelt upon the floor. I lifted my face, gasping in the fetid stench of my people. Doomed, all is doomed. Sobs wracked my body like tempestuous gales, then stop suddenly, my tear-streaked face raised in anguish towards the ceiling. All the dead flash before my eyes, the countless zombies sent against us by Fain. So many…so many. The face of Highmax looms in my mind’s eye, shooting towards me with a silent scream twisting his face. Dead. NAV, dragged under by the hordes. Mastahcheese, his reindeer pulled from under him. All dead. My silent groan becomes a scream of anguish, and I leap to my feet. In my hand I hold my sword, and my fist is clenched with ferocity upon its hilt.
“WHY!!!! Why did you send these visions to me, malicious maker! Can you not love your children?!? Are you so damned that even while you made us your tool you destroy us?!” My voice fills the small room, making powerful echoes against the walls. “WHY! ANSWER ME!” the echoes grow stronger, bouncing off the walls, amplifying, turning into an ever-present buzz in my ears. “How could you let them die?” I collapse, anger spent, upon the ground. But the buzz continues. Confused, I turn on my back and listen. It gets louder, vibrating through my head like a constant drone. With a trembling hand, I touch my face, feel the blood trickling down into my beard from my nose. The buzz stops suddenly, stopping when I wipe away the gore.
The silence before the storm.
A blast like a cannon going off sounds in my head, rocking my head back to thud against the ground. My diminutive figure bucks and twists upon the ground, but my mind is elsewhere and doesn’t feel the skin being scraped on the jagged rocks of the floor. My mind is with
Him. A fiery flace floats before me, surrounded by darkness. The flame seems not to strive against the dark, but to merge with it in a sickening blend. The mouth moves, as I stare upon his majestic and terrible visage.
“WHY. A QUESTION I RECEIVE OFTEN. MY ANSWER IS ALWAYS THE SAME, BUG. BECAUSE I CAN. BUT LISTEN, LET US NOT ARGUE. YOU HAVE DONE ME….SERVICE, IN THE PAST.” The mouth stops moving, and the spell breaks. I look away from him and focus on the darkness, trying not to look at him directly. Before I do, I see the amused smile he displays upon remembering the torture he put me through. Curse him! “I SHALL EXACT PUNISHMENT UPON THE CAUSE OF THIS, AND SHOW YOU MY DEEP MERCY. ENJOY IT WHILE IT LASTS, FOR IT IS NOT OFTEN SHOWN. LET IT NOTBE SAID THAT ARMOK DOES NOT TAKE JUSTICE SERIOUSLY!” All lights blink out abruptly, and my mind floats in a sea of eternal blackness…descends, going downwards, drowning.
I sit up with a gasp, drawing air into straining lungs. My legs and arms are chaffed and cut by rocks, but I am alright. With an effort I heave myself to unsteady feet, tottering to a table, from which I take a white handkerchief. A drop of blood falls upon it, and I grunt. I sneeze, blood droplets spraying from me, then hastily stuff the hanky to my nose. A blood pact. My eyes widen at the significance of this, my heart beating faster with fear.
My door bursts open, throwing a straggly boy upon the floor. The crop of good Forumites is bad in Necrothreat; little sunlight leads to a bad “Harvest”.
“It’s back!” He gasps, terror contorting his face. “The blood demon is back!” Hastily I cross the floor and heave him to his feet, soldier’s muscles easily lifting his thin frame. “What was that, fool! Tell me! What!” I couldn’t control my frustration or anger, but the boy doesn’t seem to find it surprising. It is what he expects of the infamous Abomination. “It’s back! The blood demon, it killed him!” With that, he collapsed again, hitting the floor hard. The floor of this office has never had such activity, I thought, before the full import hit me. I stroke the puncture marks on my neck, fear clouding my mind.
It’s back…. Armok keeps his promises and revenge was meted out on the cause of NAV’s death. Irontomato. He who left the doors open. RIP
Poll
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Topic: Necrothreat II - A Fort Cursed by the Gods! (Read 472405 times)