Well, that became a lot longer than intended. There you go Mask, I think I gave your dorf something to think about
. Also, I was wrong, you weren't part of the cabal, after reviewing the thread. I just put you in it by mistake.
Journal Entry of Grimmash
29th Obsidian, 130
Fate led me to an interesting conversation today. I was coming down from surveying the cold courtyard, trying to point out where the next overseer should look for supplies from the fallen caravan. Upon the stairs I bumped into Maskwolf. She had just returned from the depths of the fortress. Her hands were stained with a mix of dust and oil, I assume from the mechanisms we have been installing. I smiled and spoke up.
“I hope you are glad with my progress on planning out the project!”
“Hmph,” she replied, “Funny that. You think you all have this big secret. Well, some of us know what’s really going on here.”
I was confused, to say the least. Wasn’t Mask part of the initial group that came to this hellish mass of sand and stone? I looked around, and seeing no one else nearby, I asked what she meant.
“Mask, I’m not keeping any secret from you. We have all been working on this project almost since I arrived. Is everything ok? Armok’s beard, it’s been one hell of year.”
With a suspicious look and steady voice she replied, “I may have had a turn a while back, but you can save your silly excuses. You lot have caused me nothing but grief. If it weren’t for my child, I’d leave you to chew on the butt of this crossbow.”
Something was definitely wrong. And Mask had been here since the beginning, longer than I, so I wanted to try and make things right, at least between us.
“Mask, I’m not sure what I’ve done, but let me take you for a walk, and try to explain how I see things.”
Maskwolf continued to glare at me, but turned around as I gestured down the stairs.
“Look, it’s no secret that something happened between you and Grim. I won’t pretend to understand, or try to make any excuses. But it has been a nasty task trying to lead this place. From what I heard, Monitor just got us through the first year, and Grim had her hands full trying to shore things up after the necromancers. I know you love that crossbow more than anything besides your child, but our lack of ammunition these first few years has never been targeted at you. I dare say we would have preferred you laying some of that aggression on the beasts that seem hell-bent on taking this place apart.”
We had reached the dining hall, and I took us by the drink room, grabbing a few mugs and some of our surprising palatable plump wine. I steered us back towards the stairs, passing the doors to the hall and the hospital on our way.
“I think that hall, and the food and drink our brothers are eating, might be my greatest accomplishment over the past year,” I said somewhat distractedly. “And I finally got AseaHeru his hospital. Though I’m not sure why he spends all his time in the study.”
We reached the stairs and started downwards again.
“I am sincerely sorry for those I was unable to help this year, and I came close to failing you. In a way I did. I wish we could have directed you to the bowyer’s shop as opposed to the leatherworks, but when Armok takes one of us into his dreams, there is little to do. And that show may yet come in useful.”
“Here’s how I see it, Maskwolf. I don’t know what happened to you in the Mountainhome. I don’t know how that job went down, or who is to blame for your capture. I’m not even sure I agree with what you used to do. I don’t know if I agree with the seven that struck the stones here. But I’m not sure it matters much, now.”
We had reached the lowest level of the fortress, the crypts and the empty throne room.
“But I do know that we have a chance to make something different here.”
I looked at the gleam gold pillars, the smooth stone, and smiled to myself. Maskwold looked puzzled, but maybe the wine or the chance to talk had calmed her some. I walked us up to the dingy tunnels she had so recently returned from.
“I could tell that you wanted to be useful, from the passion of your feud with Grim. No one cares that much about shooting something unless they have a reason to. That’s why I told Nuckles and Grim to keep your name on the assignments for the mechanical work we have been toiling at.”
We walked into the small room, with a long table and some chairs taking up all the space. A lone lever sat quietly in the corner. Beyond us a dark, black space filled the void. A platform, hewn away from the stones on all sides seemed to brood in the still, cold air.
“This is how we can be useful, Mask. I know now that I was useless. What fortress needs a cheesemaker? This last year has taught me much about were that set of skills ranks in Armok’s plans.
But I have also learned what it means to have the lives of others placed in my hands. Those rulers in the Mountainhome, my old duke from my hearth-fortress, they were foul things. Zombies serve without thought. Goblins are bloodthirsty by Armok’s whim. But we dwarves are hard working, industrious. We can find a way to use our labor. Those nobles have forsaken the path of toil and reward. They cast dwarves aside without a thought, seeing only playthings. We will show them the error of their ways.”
I gestured to the void before us with my mug.
“You know how this room works, Mask. You’ve laid the fine mechanisms by which we will show the King and his lackeys Armok’s reward for those who would flout his gifts. We can lure them here, show them what it means to be true dwarves in Armok’s image. And then we can show them what a lowly cheesemaker and humble marskdwarf can accomplish.
The only question is, are you willing to help us?”
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Topic: Dorfday: The Heist - The Finale (Read 70839 times)