I have the prologue for my turn written; actual gameplay sections will follow soon.
From the notes of “Gnorm” Deler Mountainrights, found written between the lines of a Dwarfish hymnal:
Introduction:
Well, I’ve finally found a means and an excuse to write down the happenings of my life. Our great captain took almost all of the surviving paper, pens, and ink for himself after the crash, I was forced to get creative, something that I find I’m fairly adept at. I found that the doctor’s daughter lost her beloved hymnal in the crash, and, after some careful searching, I now have some paper on which I can write. At the fishery, I took one of the fish bones to fashion a sort of crude pen; the blood of the fish, mixed with some soot from the furnace, has given me a supply of ink.
But I’ve certainly gotten ahead of myself, haven’t I? My current story truly begins almost 6 years ago, when I, under the guise of a retired scribe of the king, sold some information to a rebellion leader in The Everseeing Boats, only to pocket some extra money by revealing their plans to the loyalists. After that, I adopted the identity of a simple fishery worker. The details of my current guise I have written below:
After laying low for a few years, occasionally performing a minor smuggling operation here and there, I decided to expand my criminal activity into the new frontier. Being that I was a “fishery worker,” I easily found myself a spot on a D.I.V. under the command of a dwarf who insisted on being called “Count Fuck the World.” Our mission was to survey the Land of Dreams, and to return with the information. I found the island to be a decent location for a smuggler’s cove, and I was ready to return to the Mountainhome, adopt a new identity, and begin my plans.
On our way back, however, our ship ran into disaster, and we crashed on the island shore; I was separated from the captain, and met up with him later. I’ve heard from the other dwarves that his official excuse for the crash is a goblin attack, but we all know the truth. Count Fucks Himself was particularly drunk that day, and decided that it would be a swell idea to steer his ship with his dick. Long story short: we’re here.
M. le Comte has occupied his time with building himself a rather tall tower, instead of occupying himself with more important matters. Realizing that their leader was a narcissistic asshole, the surviving crew elected a new, far humbler leader: Gnorm, the fishery worker. I see this island as an opportunity to grow rich by the sweat of my brow, not to build myself a big playhouse. Nevertheless, I must begin my with my leader duties.
Poll
10 (26.3%)
Author
Topic: Sparkgear XIV: A POX ON THOSE GOBLIN FIENDS FOR FOUNDERING MY SHIP! (Read 7339 times)