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[Gnorm]

Part V: The Day of Reckoning (Wintertime Chapter II)

The events of 7th Obsidian, 254

Lenehan closed his journal, and threw it on his desk whilst hardly looking; he had more important things to attend to. He walked over to his machine, a bulky construction made of green glass, connected right to the main ventilation shaft of the prison. Taking his phial, he tentatively emptied the contents into the machine. He then walked over to a long pipe protruding out of the vent; it was small, though it was large enough for him to speak into. He knew that, in addition to allowing the gas to seep easily into his laboratory, the pipe could function as an intercommunication device, for the vents carried sounds to almost every corner of the fortress. After clearing his throat, he began to make his speech into the pipe.

"Denizens of Steelhold," he began, "I feel that the time has come to put an end to this fortress. We as a group have nothing more to gain from our current lifestyle. We will end up destroying ourselves if we allow this fortress and this society to continue as it does now. That is the reason why I shall do what I feel is necessary to save us as a group. Remember this, my subjects, as this day passes."

Lenehan stood up and began to walk toward the lever in the center of his laboratory. Throughout the fortress, fear and hate spread across the expressions of the dwarves, for they knew that their baron was going to attempt something radical. Taking the lever in a firm grip with both hands, Lenehan pushed it into its activated position. As the glass machine began to churn and whistle, Lenehan took his wooden bow and, with a great swing, smashed it against the lever, bending it out of shape. The machine began to fill Lenehan's laboratory, as well as the cell-blocks, the dining room, the hospital, the stairwell, and even the caverns with a faint-red mist. Coughing once or twice from the inhalation, Lenehan took the intercommunication pipe once again.

"This mist was created, in part, from the genetic remains of murdered Elven merchants. This alchemical mixture will cause these genes to enter your own bloodstream through your lungs and your skin. Those of you, the worthy, whose genes are most similar to those of the elves will find themselves adopting similar traits as them. You will grow tall, live forever, and your ears shall grow to a point. The rest of you, the unworthy scum of this fortress, will suffer severely from this mist. It will act like poison to you, and this prison will be littered with the corpses of all the rejected by the end of the month. The mist is imperfect, and the effects may take weeks to be fulfilled. Once this is all over, however, those of you who survive will thank me."

All about Steelhold, the inmates heard the loud sound of Lenehan covering his intercom. Every dwarf in the prison was coughing, each one's lungs felt as if they were on fire. Some of the inmates covered their eyes and skin with thick cloth, for the mist was skinning them terribly. Within his own laboratory, Lenehan waited calmly and patiently in his seat. The mist was very thick in the small room, and he knew that it would grow only thicker, as the exits to the fortress had been sealed the previous day. The mists stung him, and were painful to inhale, but Lenehan accepted them with incredible willpower; these mists would make him elf-like at last.

His thoughts then turned to his enemies. He knew that there would be rebellion amongst the inferior dwarves. He remembered Dr. Asmoth, whom he knew was a madman. He remembered the mysterious masked dwarf, who had threatened him several times. He remembered the soap-making creature, and how he denied him work. Certainly none of these dwarves had the necessary genes to adopt Elven qualities, and each of them had the will to resist. Asmoth was the one he feared the most, due to his intelligence. Lenehan, however, would not hide like a coward in the face of his enemies.

He hobbled over to the intercom once more, and, forcing his voice through the thick mist, screamed a warning to the doctor.

"Asmoth!" he choked, "if you want to kill me, Asmoth, follow the passageway in my cell to my laboratory. There you'll find me."

Lenehan couldn't speak anymore, the mist was to thick. Running of sheer willpower at this point, he boldly marched to a smaller lever on the wall and pulled it, lowering the protective grate shielding him from the rest of the prison. Stepping once more in front of his machine, he took out his bow and nocked an iron-tipped arrow. He was ready for whatever would come through that passage.
Will our psychopathic heroes stop the elf-loving baron? Find out in the next update of Steelhold!

[Deus Asmoth]

Huh. So I guess that the responsibility for the plan just got thrown back to me.

Well... my version of events would go something like this:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

It felt like there should be a thunderstorm. The currently rotten corpse lay in the middle of a circle inscribed with arcane and headache-inducing symbols that Asmoth couldn't even begin to guess the meaning of, but luckily, that was not his job tonight.
"Well?" said the masked dwarf. Asmoth shrugged.
"This is far beyond anything I've ever studied. The new organs are certainly closer to functioning than the old ones, but the fact is that this is nothing more than a corpse. Even if you do find some way to restart the heart and brain, there's severe damage. And even success would be seen as an abomination."
"It matters not," the masked dwarf seemed supremely confident. "The hatred is enough to keep the vessel alive, at least long enough to do its duty. The sacrifice pays for life. Death for death, blood for blood."
"Then I've done all I can," Asmoth sighed. He could hear screams coming from the dining hall. Either Lenehan was enacting whatever plan he'd been nursing, or one of his proto-vampires wasn't as dead as it had appeared.
"No. Not all. You must perform the ritual," the mask seemed to grin in the half light.

Asmoth looked confused, but the dwarf's meaning became clear when the bound prisoner was pushed into the centre of the circle. The masked dwarf held out a viciously curved blade. Asmoth took the blade, paused a moment, then turned away, shaking his head. The prisoner began babbling thanks through his gag, until the doctor whirled around, the blade a silver flash in the air. Blood painted the room. The circle glowed a blinding red. Demonic laughter echoed through the fortress. And Modi rose again.

"Lenehan, you bastard! Jackal!" she screamed, then blinked.
"I think she's reliving her last memories," Asmoth mused. "Fascinating... I don't suppose I could convince you to-"
"This is a holy rite, doctor, and you shall not pervert it for the travesty you call science," the masked dwarf growled. "The elf lover is attempting to infect the entire fortress with elf tissue, which will either transform these dwarves into abominations or kill them. Personally, I would gladly kill you both and be done with it, but it appears the gods have a use for you. Lenehan is using the same twisted study as you do to to this, so you must find some way to stop it."
"And you?" the doctor's reply was quite. Perhaps he was already lost in his strange world of entrails and blood.
"Myself and Modi shall teach Lenehan a lesson. The gods shall protect us."

Asmoth snorted, grabbed one of the torches that had illuminated their ceremony and vanished in a swish of leather.

But it's up to gnorm, Highmax and Jackal if they want to go with that version or another one.

[highmax28]

Well, it'd be interesting if Asmoth did that for sure. And then epic battle ensues...

[Gnorm]

This would make quite a good scenario, and I'd be perfectly willing to go along with this version of the story. I'll begin writing the final parts soon, though I'd prefer that Lenehan not actually die from the encounter, though injury, psychosis, paralysis, dementia, retardation, atrophy, and anything else is acceptable.

[Rhaken]

This is turning out pretty interesting. Nice one, Gnorm! Personally, I suggest we do the equivalent of putting Lenehan in house arrest/solitary confinement. You know, lock him up forever in his baronly quarters with food and booze. Throw in the occasional dead elf or log just to remind him who's boss.

Peering into the Criminal Mind: Musings of one "Rhaken", incarcerated at penal colony Steelhold

7th Obsidian, 254
That crazy elf-humper Lenehan has gone too damned far. I'm glad I stole a spare cloak and blankets from the storeroom - a few cuts here and there, and I have a facemask to protect me from this gas. Won't risk exposing my skin either.

Lenehan must be stopped. I'm sure I'm not the only one who believes that. I've made myself a handful of allies over the past couple of months. Time to round them up and invade the baron's office. I'm taking my shiv, just to make sure.

Would be interesting if my dwarf would ally himself with the doctor at this point. An all-out invasion of the baron's office! Entirely up to Gnorm, of course.

[CubeJackal]

I'm more than willing to allow the plan with reviving Modi to proceed. It makes for a more interesting story, after all.

[4maskwolf]

I think it would be interesting if the two of us beat Lenehan unto death, but then Modi's soul leaves the body. At that point, instead of killing Lenehan, my dwarf would probably bind his soul to the true gods. Technically a mental psychosis.

[Gamerlord]

PTW.

[4maskwolf]

Okay, my take on how this might go down:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Modi and the masked dwarf raced through the fortress, headed for Lenehan's laboratory.  Modi was in front, and she did not notice when the masked dwarf dropped back, waiting...

The masked dwarf had timed it perfectly.  When he rounded the corner, Modi had Lenehan in a chokehold, raising him off the ground and about to break his neck.  The infusion of god blood had increased her strength tremendously.  Perhaps this Asmoth was not entirely incompetent.

The masked dwarf raised his hand, and Modi froze.  He could sense her soul fighting back, but she had always been a physical fighter rather than a mental one.
"I summoned your soul to this body," he intoned, "and I now banish it to whence it came.  Begone."
Modi's soul struggled, but his power was absolute.  He could feel her soul leave the body, and the abomination slumped, devoid of life.

Lenehan struggled free of its grip, looking at the masked dwarf with surprise.
"You were on my side this whole time?"

Moving with impossible speed, the masked dwarf rushed forward and threw Lenehan to the ground.
"You think I saved you from death?  Your heresy has earned you a fate far worse.  When I'm done, you will wish I had let Modi kill you."

Placing three fingers to Lenehan's forehead, he intoned:
"For your crimes and heresies against the true gods, I consign your soul to their charge.  You are theirs, now and forever."

Lenehan screamed once, then slumped, unconscious.

If Gnorm agrees with this, I intentionally left the ending open so that Lenehan can be under their thumb or not.  Also, should Modi's soul ever return again, she will have a new enemy.  But regardless of what happens, this is going to be great fun.  Also, Asmoth needs to post his plan to reverse Modi's mechanism.

[Deus Asmoth]

His small number of assistants stood in front of Asmoth, clutching their barrels of tallow and oil. The more unfortunate had been forced to participate in one of the greatest of dwarven crimes: booze burning.
"The plan is simple," Asmoth said. "Moisturizer shall take three dwarves into the ventilation shafts and spread as much fuel as possible into the system. My three will be in the hallways, linking up the shafts and major dwelling areas. Rhaken, you seem to be a manipulative sociopath, so I need you to convince everyone to get outside of the fortress for the final stage of the plan. Everyone got it?" They nodded. "Then let fire reign!"

Asmoth pushed his second barrel of oil into the dining room, barely able to see through the red mist that had descended. There didn't seem to be anyone left inside Steelhold, so Rhaken had probably finished his assignment. The barrel cracked open, adding another layer to the oil coating most of the floor.
"Anyone left in here?" Asmoth shouted. With no reply except more gas leaking into the room, he shrugged, left, and threw his torch into the hall. There was a thunderous roar as the flames took hold. Asmoth's swear was lost in the noise as a spark followed the lines of oil into the hall, overtaking him easily and rushing into the shafts Lenehan had dug. The doctor fled.

Fire had become Steelhold's new master. It roared through the dining hall, devouring the taint Lenehan had released. It followed roads of tallow and oil through the shafts, leaving only burnt stone in its wake. Outside, prisoners ad former guards alike huddled in winter's chill, kept warm by their home burning before them. A silhouette appeared in the smoke and the doctor emerged, covered in ash from head to foot.
"Labcoat dwarf!" shouted Moisturizer. "Where's your labcoat?"
"I need a new one," Asmoth said sadly. "It got burned."
"So did our home, you lunatic!" someone in the crowd yelled. "What the hell did you do that for?"
"I suppose you'd prefer to be elves?" Asmoth croaked back, to hoarse from the smoke to shout. He scanned the crown, but couldn't see the masked dwarf or Lenehan anywhere. They were probably still inside. Asmoth could only hope the fire would get them. It would make everything so much... easier.

Asmoth's Log, 8th of Obisidian, 254.

I believe I have discovered the cure to Lenehan's infection. My previous test revealed that an already immortal creature reacts extremely poorly when dosed with vampire blood or flesh, and of course, elves are one of those immortal races. To be honest, I only discovered this in a fit of desperation, but perhaps that is where true genius always comes from. It was a stroke of luck that my lab was mostly undamaged by the fire (note, I need a new door. Preferably soundproof), so I still had a large stock of my vampire samples. The vampire blood seems to target the elven genes before it attempts to infect its host, meaning that with a precise dose, I can rid them of the poison without creating a vampire. Most of our dwarves received a small enough dose of Lenehan's poison to fight it off themselves, anyway, so I have enough blood to go around. I'm unwilling to test flesh grafts, remembering how badly my goblin test subject reacted to them. Unfortunately, this is anything but an exact science, as I have no reliable way to tell how badly each dwarf is affected by the disease. As such, I'm giving each affected dwarf a small dose every hour until they appear cured.

Further notes: 1) There is extreme fire damage to the fortress. Most of it is simply cracked engravings and smoke damage, since we left the bedrooms alone as much as we could and barricaded the food stockpile before setting the fire. I feel I deserve (another) medal for saving the fortress from this fate.

2) I cannot locate the masked dwarf. Of course, I was never able to find him before, but I'm worried about what a being with enough power to raise the dead might do in the future. Lenehan is acting strangely, which is understandable given that his master plan has been foiled, but this goes deeper than that if I'm any judge. Modi has also vanished, but I haven't really had time to look for her. I hope she isn't dead (again), she would be an invaluable test subject if I can sedate her and a useful ally if I cannot.

[Gnorm]

I'm glad that my story has created interest, and I'll attempt to consolidate the suggestions for the ending. I have my own ideas though, so some of the details will be changed.

[highmax28]

Honestly, I think the fire should be "divine magic" so it only burned the elvish parts but saves the host. And mr mask would help in that with his gods, and if Modi lives, she fights Lenehan's until shadow or another finishes them both off, cause Modi is a crime against nature and Lenehan is a crime against dwarven kind

[Gnorm]

Part VI: Reunion (Wintertime Chapter III)

The events of 7th Obsidian, 254

As Lenehan waited intently in his study, and as the inmates of Steelhold drank to the end of the world in despair, Maskdwarf waited patiently whilst Dr. Asmoth worked intently on the corpse. Because of the vent connected directly to Asmoth's office, the two of them were forced to move their operations into another room, one where the mist was thin; the room of choice was Modi's tomb. Asmoth worked with the corpse, sewing it together with new flesh and organs "donated" by generous other dwarves. Maskdwarf had already carved onto the tomb a circle inscribed with arcane and headache-inducing symbols of which Asmoth couldn't even begin to guess the meaning.

"Well?" asked the masked dwarf; Asmoth shrugged in response.

"This is far beyond anything I've ever studied," the doctor replied, "The new organs are certainly closer to functioning than the old ones, but the fact is that this is nothing more than a corpse. Even if you do find some way to restart the heart and brain, there's severe damage. And even success would be seen as an abomination."

"It matters not," the masked dwarf retorted with supreme confidence, "The hatred is enough to keep the vessel alive, at least long enough to do its duty. The sacrifice pays for life. Death for death, blood for blood."

"Then I've done all I can," Asmoth sighed. He could hear sobs coming from the dining hall; husbands cried for their wives, children cried for their mothers, and those dwarves without family simply cried. Even the cold, mechanical doctor felt sympathy for his fellow dwarf at that moment.

"There is still more to be done, and you must perform the ritual," the mask seemed to grin in the half light.

Asmoth looked at his partner in confusion, but the dwarf's meaning became clear when the sacrifice was pushed into the center of the circle. He was a simple pickpocket, one of several in the prison, and he would not be missed. Maskdwarf held out a a shining dirk and handed it to Asmoth. The doctor examined the blade in his palm, and glanced tentatively at their prisoner. For a moment he turned away, shaking his head as he looked down at his chest. But as the prisoner began babbling thanks through his gag, the doctor whirled around and plunged the blade a straight into the prisoner's throat. Warm red blood bubbled from the wound and into the circle, which began to glow in a terrible light, emitting a color thought impossible by the doctor until that moment. The entire prison began to rumble, blocks of rock crumbled from the ceiling and the stone alter began to crack. A horrible daemonic chortle could be heard, echoing faintly from deep within the earth. It was then that Modi's corpse began to move once more.

"Lenehan, you bastard! Jackal!" she screamed, before blinking in shock and confusion.

"I think she's reliving her last memories," Asmoth mused. "Fascinating, perhaps this could use some testing -"

"This is a holy rite, doctor, and you shall not pervert it for the travesty you call 'science!'" the masked dwarf growled, "The elf lover is attempting to infect the entire fortress with elf tissue, which will either transform these dwarves into abominations or kill them. Personally, I would gladly kill you both and be done with it, but it appears the gods have a use for you. Lenehan is using the same twisted art as you do to to this, so you must find some way to stop it."

"And you?" the doctor's reply was quiet, for his mind had already immersed itself in its masterful scientific calculation.

"Myself and Modi shall teach Lenehan a lesson. The gods shall protect us."

Asmoth snorted, grabbed one of the torches that had illuminated their ceremony and vanished in a swish of leather.

. . .

Lenehan stared intently at the entrance to his study. Although the machine had already created all of the mist that it was capable of, it still served to circulate it all about the fortress, and Lenehan could not see anything farther away from him than his doorway. He twitched slightly as he heard sounds coming closer towards him. It sounded, at first, as if two dwarves were running down the hall, but he soon heard only the steps of one. Drawing back his bowstring as far as it could go, he aimed it right at the entryway.

"Show yourself!" he shouted into the red mist. He was taken aback, however, by the figure that stood before him, for it was the very figure of his old foe whom he had sentenced to death. "Modi!" he managed to choke out.

"Miss me, elf-lover?" was the dwarf's only response.

[Gnorm]

Part VII: Sic Semper Tyrannis (Wintertime Chapter IV)

The events of 7th Obsidian, 254



She advanced slowly into the chamber, wielding two weapons in her hands. Lenehan could not believe the sight of the partially decayed creature that stood before him. Parts of her skin and joints were replaced with parts belonging to other dwarves, and these new parts did not completely match her body. Her hair, which she kept in clean braids during her life, was now a wavy, disheveled mess. She seemed to glow with a sort of aura, an aura that struck fear into the hearts of all who beheld her.

Lenehan stared at this apparition for seven seconds before he could react. He quickly drew back his bowstring once more and let loose an arrow at Modi's chest. The arrow hit its mark exactly, and pierced straight into his foe. Lenehan's satisfaction was, however, cut short when Modi effortlessly pulled the arrow from the wound, dropped it on the ground, and continued to proceed towards her target. Although the arrow and its removal seemed to hurt her slightly, the pain was no greater than if she was stung by a bee. Lenehan gasped as he saw the blood that oozed from her open wound; the blood was that of a dwarf, but rather a viscous black substance that sizzled as it dropped onto the stone floor.

. . .

Asmoth ran into the dining hall, where the choking dwarves were each saying their prayers to their personal gods. He forcefully pushed several family-altars off of the long table in the center of the room and leapt atop it.

"Listen up everyone!" he shouted with such power that everyone stopped to listen, "I you want to survive, you'll need to get away from the mist. Follow me and I'll save you!"

The desperate dwarves let out cries of joy, for the mad doctor, to them, seemed to be a angel-divine, sent by the gods to save them. They were lead down the staircase into the deep recesses of the earth. Although vents had been installed in the caverns, the caves were open enough that the mist concentration was quite thin, and the dwarves could breathe easy once again.

A small group of dwarves, each clad in thick cloth cloaks with wrappings draping from their faces approached Asmoth. The doctor recognized their leader as Rhaken, the infamous outlaw and newcomer to the prison. The bandit wished to stage a raid of Lenehan's office in order to exact proper vengeance for what their baron had done.

"That is already being taken care of," responded Asmoth, "The current issue of moment is combating this mist and the infection it has caused in many of the dwarves. If you truly want to help, use that shiv of yours and defend the women and children from the troglodytes."

Asmoth then grabbed seven able-bodied dwarves, including the soap-making creature known as Moisturizer, and began to ascend the stairway once more. As he walked up the stairs, he began to notice that the mist did not react well to the torch that he was carrying with him. Upon contact with the flame, the mist seemed to disintigrate. Asmoth's brilliant mind immediately concocted a plan to rid the fortress of the mists.

. . .

Lenehan took several steps back away from Modi and began to fire more arrows at the resurrected dwarf. These Modi easily dodged or, in one case, cleaved vertically in half with her axe. It wasn't long before Lenehan realized, to his horror, that he had run his quiver out of arrows. Modi noticed this as well, and immediately charged towards the helpless dwarf, her axe raised over her head. Lenehan just barely dodged her by diving out of her way, and Modi's axe smashed into the glass machine, causing it to become stuck for several seconds.

When she finally retrieved her weapon, Modi's attention was turned towards the damaged lever in the center of the chamber. She advanced towards it and set down her weapon. Taking the bent lever in both arms, she began to pull on it with all of her might. From the corner of the room, Lenehan could see that the daemonic aura that surrounded her seemed to grow more intense as she strained against the twisted metal. With a forceful groan, the lever began to shift back into position, and Modi immediately forced it into its deactivated position. Lenehan's machine began to slow to a halt, and the mist stopped circulating through the chamber.

As Modi bent down to pick up her weapons, Lenehan sensed that his chance had come. He grabbed a glass flask from the top of his desk and tossed its contents all over Modi. The liquid burned Modi's skin, and she felt true pain for the first time in her second life.

"The doctor was correct in his notes," yelled Lenehan, "The concentration was too high for the first formula."

Modi struggled to her feet, weakly holding her weapons in her palms. Lenehan had his old crossbow in his hands, and an elf-bone quarrel aimed right at Modi's throat.

"Won't this be an ironic death for you? Slain by the bones of those whom you so abhored."

Modi dropped her weapons, "Curse you Lenehan!"

With a surprising force, Modi rushed towards Lenehan once again. Unprepared this time, Lenehan could only fire his crossbow at his target and, although the quarrel pierced the target's throat and continued right through, she was completely unphased. Modi's fist struck Lenehan in the lower body at full force, and the baron was sent flying across to room to crash against his machine. Pain wracked his body, and he weakly looked up at the advancing figure.

"This is for Jackal," she muttered aloud.

. . .

Asmoth's small group stood before him, clutching their barrels of tallow and oil. The more unfortunate had been forced to participate in one of the greatest of dwarven crimes: booze burning.

"The plan is simple," Asmoth said. "Moisturizer shall take three dwarves into the ventilation shafts and spread as much fuel as possible into the system. My three will be in the hallways, linking up the shafts and leading the fuel to the bonfire. Everyone got it?"

Not a dwarf questioned his plan, each went about spreading the oil and the alcohol about the shafts and the hallways, leading it to the great pile of spare furniture, logs, and alcohol barrels in the middle of the main cell-block. When they had finished their work, Asmoth ordered his followers to return to the caverns. After waiting forty seconds, Asmoth turned and threw his torch into the hall. There was a thunderous roar as the flames broke out. Asmoth's swear was lost in the noise as a spark followed the lines of oil into the hall, overtaking him easily and rushing into the shafts Lenehan had dug. The doctor fled the site in desperation.

Fire had become Steelhold's new master. It roared through the cell-block, devouring the taint Lenehan had released. It followed roads of tallow and oil through the shafts, leaving only burnt stone in its wake. Deep in the caverns bellow, prisoners and former guards alike huddled in around small fires, Rhaken's group keeping watch and attending to those burnt by the mist. A silhouette appeared in the smoke and the doctor emerged, covered in ash from head to foot.

"Labcoat dwarf!" cried Moisturizer, "Where's your labcoat?"

"I need a new one," Asmoth said sadly. "It got burned." He scanned the crown, but couldn't see the masked dwarf anywhere.

He was probably still inside. Asmoth could only hope the fire would get him; it would make everything so much easier.

. . .

"Excellent work Modi, but the fun is over."

Modi turned around upon hearing these echoing words. She saw the shape of Maskdwarf standing in the center of the room, grasping an obsidian short sword in his hand.

"Now is the time that I can avenge Jackal," said Modi, "You cannot stop me."

The masked dwarf raised his sword and sliced it downwards, and Modi, although standing far outside of the sword's range,

cried in pain, as if she had been bisected.  He could sense her soul fighting back, but she had always been a physical fighter rather than a mental one. His power was absolute, and soon the abomination slumped to the floor, devoid of life.

Lenehan struggled to his feet, looking at the masked dwarf with surprise.

"You were on my side this whole time?" he asked.

Moving with impossible speed, the masked dwarf rushed forward and grabbed Lenehan by the head.

"You think I saved you from death? Your heresy has earned you a fate far worse. When I'm done, you will wish I had let Modi kill you."

Placing three fingers to Lenehan's forehead, he intoned: "For your crimes and heresies against the true gods, I curse you to behold their greatness for the rest of your existence.

Lenehan's eyes opened wide, and they quickly began to dart about the room. Everywhere he looked, he could see the faint visages and silhouettes of horrible daemonic creatures. They began to start towards him, muttering in arcane and forgotten tongues. Lenehan screamed once, then slumped, unconscious.
There you have it, the grand finale of my turn. A short epilogue will be posted shortly along with the save, for I still have about a month's worth of playing left to do. Also, I apologize for my lack of MSpaint skills, but I wanted to include a drawing. So, what did you think of this story?

[4maskwolf]

Fricking awesome.  You took our entries and combined them into a cohesive narrative.  Very good work.