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Author Topic: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress  (Read 282238 times)

4maskwolf

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #165 on: December 28, 2013, 10:51:24 am »

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Emdief's face remained passive, despite the massive urge to grin. So, the masked dwarf didn't know as much as it thought. Or it was trying to give that impression. You can't take anything about magic at face value; experimentation to confirm things tends to end disastrously.
"Well then. Good to know magic is countered by doubt. I'll tell you what you need to know."
Although it was impossible to tell beneath the mask, Emdief new the prophet was smiling. With how much arrogance, it was impossible to know.
"The first thing you need to know is his source of magic. He carries with him a book. I haven't examined it closely, but it's a massive thaumaturgical anomaly. It radiates power directly to him, but it's more strange than that. Its emissions vary wildly. If a consciousness is required to generate magic, I'd be uncertain of this book's sanity. If it isn't a conscious entity, it's drawing power through it from somewhere I can't detect. Something that's not part of our mundane reality."
Emdief looked the masked prophet straight in the eyes - or at least straight in the eye-holes.
"I don't know what your planning to do with this information, and I assume it won't end well. But I've said my piece. The only other thing I could tell you that you haven't mentioned in that your 'true gods' aren't the only ones. I've seen a dwarf get cursed before. Some entity, or entities, protects the gods' temples. But I assume your masters would have told you that, and you know full well what you risk by blaspheming against our more traditional deities."
"Now it's your turn. I need to know what you're planning with the adamantine. Because believe you me, I have no intention of meeting your gods. And if it's possible for me to do so, I think I can arrange for them not wanting to meet me, either. You might not have known, but my progeny are here. My safety, and that of my legacy, is non-negotiable."
At first Emdief didn't know what the noise was, and no alarm showed on his face upon realizing what it was. The masked dwarf was laughing.
The masked dwarf chuckled, staring at the ignorant dwarf in front of him.   They were all ignorant, ignorant to the true extent of what was going on.  They were posturing like rats in front of lions, pretending to be in charge.
"Worry you not, Emdief, the adamantine is not here for any summonings.  My gods are perfectly content where they are, the little you know about them."
"Then what is it for?"
The masked dwarf sighed.  The ignorance of these dwarves.
"Study"/i]

fractalman

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #166 on: December 28, 2013, 10:28:59 pm »

O.o
...
The die has been cast.  Either rhaken will accept my offer...or try to have me killed in a misguided effort to maintain power yet another year.   All that remained was to wait.
well.  I suppose I could start planning where to put the portal...


AHAH! I shall hide it in plain sight, and rotate it 90 degrees so that caravans can pass through it on their way to the depot!

-but I'll definitely need Emdief's thaumometer.  If I lay it on the side, it will increase the trans-dimensional stress due to crossing gravity field-lines unless I get it positioned precisely. . 

-oh, no, I won't be sending caravans on a trans-dimensional journey.  Once I zip back to the first portal, I can reprogram it to only let me through. 

OOC: Once my turn starts, I may or may not have the time to post seasonal updates...my current plans call for 6k dig designation squares, about 1k construced flooring tiles, and over 300 wood just for the windmill array-oh, obviously I won't have all that wood during my turn, but I think I can free up enough cages and bins to allow future overseers to finish the array without feeling like they're drawing wood away from 'important' tasks. Anyone want more details?

Also: MDFI, do you want any materials ordered up for your turn? How much space is your defense going to require? (In particular: how many z-levels tall is it going to be? )
« Last Edit: December 29, 2013, 01:44:39 am by fractalman »
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This is a masterwork ledger.  It contains 3719356 pages on the topic of the precise number and location of stones in Spindlybrooks.  In the text, the dwarves are hauling.
"And here is where we get the undead unicorns. Stop looking at me that way, you should have seen the zombie deer running around last week!"

4maskwolf

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fractalman

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #168 on: December 29, 2013, 01:56:49 am »

Yeah, lol, both our characters think the other is planning to open up a Can Of Eviltm.
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This is a masterwork ledger.  It contains 3719356 pages on the topic of the precise number and location of stones in Spindlybrooks.  In the text, the dwarves are hauling.
"And here is where we get the undead unicorns. Stop looking at me that way, you should have seen the zombie deer running around last week!"

Gnorm

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #169 on: December 29, 2013, 03:12:40 am »

If this persists, it may even go nicely with a pre-planned plot twist that I've planned.
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And we were this close to yet another victim of Gnorm, the Overseer Killer.

Rhaken

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #170 on: December 29, 2013, 06:37:11 am »

The meeting with the fractaldwarf, along with my recent discovery, has left a sour taste in my mouth. The wheel is turning far faster than I would like. Yet if it was slower, I might not live to see a conclusion to this whole clusterfuck. Ah, the shit you think of in your old age.

I need to clear my head, get some work done. Seeing that my reports heap is completely empty,  I walk to the execution chamber and approach the far wall. Behind a basalt door, I can hear the rattling of chains, the vile cursing of greenskins. I enter, and stare down the captives. Chained to the wall ahead of me are eight emaciated goblins, barely capable of movement. Heavy chains of iron and lead wrap around their arms, legs, torsos and necks. They can writhe on the floor, and barely at that. They turn to face me as best they can, screaming at me, struggling to break free and attack.


"Rut, obsto og," I snarl at them in their native tongue - what little I know of it. I walk past them to the lead door at the end of the room, into the 'guest bedrooms'. Another lead door leads me to my entertainment: the goblin axemaster, leader of the last siege. I heft my morningstar. She looks up at me, defiant but terrified. I pull the heavy weapon over my head.

This is gonna be fun.




The humans have come to trade. After loading up, the lads let the vampire broker out - turns out he lost the last election - but the asshole heads off to the cell blocks. Morul gives chase and hauls his ass back to his cell. Seems he doesn't feel like cooperating. I'll let it slide, just this once. Melek volunteers to handle the trading, and does a pretty neat job of it. No fuss, no muss, and we suddenly have a lumber supply again. A shame they didn't bring as many valley herbs this year. That stuff is too valuable to pass up.

Once Melek is done trading and making her way back to the hospital, I approach one of the traders, a wizened old wagon driver with a sun-weathered face and rheumy eyes. Much to his surprise, I greet him in his native tongue. We engage in conversation, sharing a plump helmet from my pack, looking for all the world like two old friends. The old man proves himself to be quite affable.

After an hour of conversation, I help him pack and prepare the wagon. Now is the time to strike. I ask him to tell me about a certain part of the history of their civilization. One he probably isn't old enough to remember, but I'm sure he's old enough to know the tale.

I whisper a single word in the human language.
Koromsos.

Orderumbral.

The old man's face darkens. And he tells me all I need to know.




Stoneworkers run about the recently excavated hall, tools in hand, smoothing the rough stone walls. Haulers bring in statues, some made of stone, others lead, and a single one made of gold. It depicts Bobrur Fragranceglitter the Bodices of Romancing, goddess of children, pregnancy and marriage, head bowed. The centerpiece of this chamber. My mausoleum.

I had wanted something far simpler at first. Just a small, private place where Onul and I could be laid to rest once our time is up. But now that the fractaldwarf had come forward with his plan, that had to change. This would probably be my last great work as overseer of Steelhold. A memorial hall to my squad, my faithful soldiers, lining the entrance to my crypt. Inside, a platinum sarcophagus for myself, and another for my wife. A beautiful place, to be admired by all.

And under my sarcophagus, beneath a false floor, the hidden chamber where I would hide until it was time to announce my survival. A small bunker, with a bed, training equipment, food and booze.

I realize now that the fractaldwarf was right. If I deny him his plan, there will be too much bloodshed. I would end up either dead, or ruling a handful of dwarves who would be forever shaped by the ordeal. If I ally myself with the masked one, I will become a puppet to powers I do not care to serve. So the only wise option is death. Albeit a fake one.

Of course, if they try anything stupid, they will that this old dwarf is a crafty sonuvabitch. I may agree with the plan, but that doesn't mean I trust them to hold up their end of the bargain.

One thing is certain. I will tell none of this to Onul. I may love my wife more than anything in the world, but she is still in the maskdwarf's congregation. Oh yes, she gives me the rundown of all the sermons. But she could be under the influence of some spell of his. As much as it pains me to keep her in the dark, it will have to be done. It is the only way.




On my recent walks to the surface, I've noticed that the days are getting shorter. Autumn will end in a few weeks. Work on the mausoleum is almost complete. Lenehan's own beachside tomb has been restored, and the entranceway is in the process of being boobytrapped. I have a feeling Corley will be a bit more amiable next time we meet.

A scout barges into the office, interrupting me in the middle of the week's reports. From the looks of him, he sprinted down here all the way from the surface.


"Calm yourself, lad. What is it?"

"To the south, sir," he says, breathless. "A cyclops has entered the territory from the south."

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I freeze in place. For a brief second, the blood turns to ice in my veins, before it comes boiling back with a vengeance. I start gritting my teeth, hand crushing the grip of my morningstar. I tell the scout he can go, then storm out of the office, heading topside, barking orders without breaking stride.

"All of you, with me. Now, godsdammit! We've got a cyclops in the area. Haul ass."

I don't think I've ever walked so fast, even my youth. My squad follows me to the surface, then toward the southern beach. We find the massive beast pounding at the door of Lenehan's tomb. I'd say something about no rest for the wicked, but that would be hypocritical of me.

We close with the cyclops. The monster roars and bears its teeth. For a brief moment, a long-lost, blood-spattered image returns to my mind. It almost breaks me, like it did all those years ago. But not this time. The time for grief is past. The time for vengeance is now.

I sound the charge. We move to topple the hideous creature, striking at its legs, dodging the swings of its massive arms. An axe to the leg manages to hobble it slightly. The cyclops decides now would be a good time to run like hell, and it makes a break for it, trying to escape us. Its injuries don't seem to impede it at all.

Not on my watch, motherfucker.


"Chase it down and kill it!" I want that cyclops dead. I want its children dead. I want its parents dead. And if the lads don't, I'll do it myself.

We give it chase through the beach and onto the higher ground of the desert. Without the injured leg, the cyclops would be moving faster than any of us. As it stands, we are keeping up, but just barely. The monster leads us on a merry chase across the sand, nine dwarves sprinting to keep up with a limping cyclops. Some of the lads are running out of wind when I notice where the beast is heading. It trips the mechanism, and a massive cage slams down over it.

Normally, I would be grinning. I would have found this whole thing terribly amusing. Not this time. I walk up to the cage, grim-faced. I can see the hate in the cyclops's eye. The feeling is mutual. I spit in its face.


"Lock the fucker up. It's mine now."

The lads look confused. They've never seen their commander this furious before. If only they knew why.



The dwarven caravan came while we hunted the cyclops. I manage to calm myself in time approach one of the merchants - a merchant I knew would be coming. I paid him for it, after all. I make a subtle show of inspecting his wares for a while. Once the inspector is gone, I take the agent aside and start talking.

From within his midnight-blue cloak, he pulls a long, thin canister. Within is a bundle of scrolls, many of them sealed with the royal crest, others heavily worn, others still partially burned, as if someone had tried to dispose of them but had been interrupted. I give him my thanks, and hand him a masterful green glass vial, filled to the brim with golden salve. What he uses it for, I could not care less.

He has brought me the information I need. With this, I should finally have the evidence to confirm my suspicions. I quickly head down to my office, to prepare for a night of revelations. I tell the lads that I am not to be disturbed until the next day, and sit down behind my desk. I open the case of scrolls, pull them out one at a time, laying them on the desk. I pick up one of the worn scrolls. I know I've seen it before. But it was in much better repair back then. I quickly do the math in my head, and realize I haven't seen it in one hundred and thirty eight years. By the gods, I was only twenty then. I unroll it, gentle as a feather, and begin to read.

Several hours into my studies, Onul returns home, surprised to see me still awake. She walks around the desk, moving in close to see what I'm reading. I put my arm around her waist. I'm not sure if it's the look on my face or the contents of the scrolls, but she figures out what's going on in no time. She sighs. I make no effort to hide anything. This whole mess concerns her as well.

Under different circumstances, we could have used this in court against the queen herself. And changed the course of history. If only we weren't prisoners. If only the courts in Chainbell and Sprinkledlabor weren't so corrupt. Things might have been very different then. But now, I wasn't sure I'd live long enough to see this matter settled.

Ah, the shit you think of in your old age.




I awaken in my bed with my arms around Onul, exactly how I fell asleep after our lovemaking. From the sounds of activity outside, I'd have to guess it's just before lunch time. I get up and get myself in armor as quietly as I can. She rises from bed when I'm strapping on my weapon harness. We hold each other again for a while, and she leaves after a fashion. I pour myself a mug of ale from my desk drawers and grab a piece of plump helmet roast. I eat in morose silence, pondering. I've already decided what I'm going to do. But I still can't stop thinking of the implications.

Once I'm done eating, I call Urvad, of the Constructive Fed Daggers, my wife's squad.


"Urvad, go fetch me Corley, Emdief and the fractaldwarf. Tell them to bring the stuff. They'll know what I mean. Corley should be down in the forges. Emdief is probably either assembling machinery or at the shooting range."

"What about the fractaldwarf?" He takes me for a fool.

"You know where to find him," I tell him, my tone heavy with reproach. "Bring them here at once."

His shoulders slump. "How long have you known?"

"The whole time. Now get moving."

"Yes, chief."



The dwarves I called for have assembled in my office. Emdief fidgets with his crossbow. Corley dabs at his soot-stained hands with a rope reed hankerchief that had once been white. The fractaldwarf just smiles, sitting sideways in his chair. I've no doubt the fractaldwarf has informed the other two of the plan. I have witnesses to confirm it. The maskdwarf isn't here. Emdief's device would be going off if he was.

I stand behind my desk, gauntleted hands on the basalt surface, holding down a small stack of papers I'd prepared during the night. I set my eyes on each of them in turn, ensuring they are all paying attention before I speak.


"You all know the plan. I have agreed to go along with it. We will stage the incident on new year's eve, during a party I will organize to inaugurate the sculpture garden and my mausoleum. My lads will be informed of some of the situation, details omitted, so they can maintain order but still allow the takeover. However..."

I settle my glare on the fractaldwarf. "None of this will happen if you fail to hold up your end of the bargain. I have taken precautions to ensure it. Starting with the drug.

"You will perform a live demonstration of the drug in action. Right now. On Corley, and someone else. Then you will leave it with me, to ensure it doesn't get swapped or spiked. If it doesn't work as advertised, my lads have instructions to barge in here and handle matters with extreme prejudice." I neglect to mention that Emdief is technically one of my lads, and is in on this. I also neglect to mention that the training complex is on lockdown until I give the order, so they can't exactly escape.

I can see the unspoken question in their eyes. Demonstrate on who? But I thought of that in advance as well. I call for Urvad. The two-timer walks into the office, looking uneasy. The lads outside shut the door behind him, startling him. He starts sweating.


"Demonstrate on him. Urvad, I suggest you cooperate before you piss me off." I can smell the lad's fear, like a wolf smells a lamb. His thoughts are crystal clear, reflected in his eyes. He thinks for a second that he can just charge over the desk and take me out himself. Except he has seen me fight. His skull would be crushed into a fine paste before he could reach me, and he knows it.

I stare at each dwarf in turn once more.


"Do this right, and today I will reveal to you the darkest secrets of the realm. Fail, and the truth dies with me."
« Last Edit: December 29, 2013, 03:47:27 pm by Rhaken »
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Of course, he may have simply crushed the forgotten beasts with his massive testicles.

Forget a spouse, he needs a full time gonad wrangler.

MDFification

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #171 on: December 29, 2013, 07:36:11 am »

OOC: Once my turn starts, I may or may not have the time to post seasonal updates...my current plans call for 6k dig designation squares, about 1k construced flooring tiles, and over 300 wood just for the windmill array-oh, obviously I won't have all that wood during my turn, but I think I can free up enough cages and bins to allow future overseers to finish the array without feeling like they're drawing wood away from 'important' tasks. Anyone want more details?

Also: MDFI, do you want any materials ordered up for your turn? How much space is your defense going to require? (In particular: how many z-levels tall is it going to be? )

I'm not actually going to build that due to turtling being something that's not done in succession games. You can build however a combination drowning/dodge-me trap with materials available from the first year and make your fort entrance pretty much impenetrable to non-flyer assault. It takes 2 z-levels at least, but you could easily build it above ground.

Also you stole my thaumometer. Magic users.

EDIT: So the Thaumometer got stolen. Wonder when I should notice that. Probably after the transition of power.
EDIT2: Reading closer, I notice that the Thaumometer hasn't actually been stolen. Probably Moisturizer is playing with it, or something. Time to explore the wonderful world of paranoia and false accusations. No dwarf is infallible, after all.
« Last Edit: December 29, 2013, 05:44:47 pm by MDFification »
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fractalman

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #172 on: December 29, 2013, 03:34:51 pm »

I'll just add a few weapon traps to the current defense...and fix the cage stockpiles.

p.s. one usually tests the non-lethals on both the creator AND a random victim.  If creator survives, at least you know there is an antidote somewhere.
« Last Edit: December 29, 2013, 03:38:27 pm by fractalman »
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This is a masterwork ledger.  It contains 3719356 pages on the topic of the precise number and location of stones in Spindlybrooks.  In the text, the dwarves are hauling.
"And here is where we get the undead unicorns. Stop looking at me that way, you should have seen the zombie deer running around last week!"

Rhaken

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #173 on: December 29, 2013, 03:43:52 pm »

I'll just add a few weapon traps to the current defense...and fix the cage stockpiles.

p.s. one usually tests the non-lethals on both the creator AND a random victim.  If creator survives, at least you know there is an antidote somewhere.


....Brb, retconning that. Dammit. This is what I get for writing until six in the morning. At least I got a fair part of the next update done in advance.
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Of course, he may have simply crushed the forgotten beasts with his massive testicles.

Forget a spouse, he needs a full time gonad wrangler.

Gnorm

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #174 on: December 29, 2013, 05:14:35 pm »

Corley took one last drag of his cigarette, then removed the old holder from his mouth and stamped it against the basalt desk, effectively putting it out and leaving a permanent mark on the piece of furniture. Rhaken glared at the young dwarf, but he did not even return the glance. Instead, he reached into his coat, depositing the wooden holder and removing a pewter flask and two phials made of crystal glass -- a valued material amongst the dwarves.

"Golden salve," Corley began as he poured a sickly red liquid into the phials, "is not the only substance that valley herbs can make."

The viscous liquid took some time to settle in the phials. Corley re-sealed the flask, and placed it on the desk in front of Rhaken.

"In fact," he continued, "it is not the healing properties of the salve that makes it such a valued item on the black market, but rather the natural properties of the original herb's extracts as a powerful depressant. I have become -- in my experience with rolling various types of cigarettes -- quite familiar with such properties of the valley herb, and I believe that I have found a means to use it to feign death."

Corley began to walk towards Urvad, who by this point was shaking uncontrollably. Corley handed him one of the phials, and began to twirl his own tentatively between his sooty fingers.

"Drink it," Rhaken commanded. The dwarf shoved the phial into his mouth and leaned his head backwards, allowing the thick substance to slowly drip down his throat. Once the phial was empty, he let it drop to the ground and shatter, and began to moan painfully of the horrible taste.

"The extract from the valley herbs, combined with the relaxing qualities of wine, have created a substance that will slowly cause the systems of the body to shut down," explained Corley to the small group.

"Shut down?" asked Urvad nervously, whilst clutching at his stomach.

"Indeed. Over the hour or two, you should find your body to be numb, your dexterity extremely limited, and careful thought processes to be difficult. In about another hour, your body will probably stop regulating its heat -- essentially becoming cold-blooded -- and your muscles will be completely relaxed and not functional. Quickly following that, your heart-rate and breathing will become so slow and shallow that even the greatest doctor would assume you dead until the potion wears off in thirty hours. Unfortunately, there is a flaw with the substance"

"What sort of flaw?" enquired Rhaken and Urvad simultaneously.

"My potion will not cause you to lose consciousness, so you'll be at least semi-aware for the full thirty hours. Certain feelings, such as boredom, anxiety, or fear, also cannot be blocked."

Corley finished there, and removed his cigarette-case once more.

"I ask that you all smoke to the health of Urvad, Rhaken, and I," said he as he began to pass out his cigarettes to the dwarves in the room. When he had finished he set the case back in its ordinary pocket, and raised his open phial into the air. Slumping back into his seat, he proposed a toast: "To Steelhold! and its mighty king Rhaken!"

With that, he downed the contents of his phial.
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And we were this close to yet another victim of Gnorm, the Overseer Killer.

MDFification

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #175 on: December 29, 2013, 05:42:35 pm »

Emdief watched the two dwarves fall to the ground. After a few minutes, and after making sure Corley's eyes were closed, the phial of the potion was quickly scooped up and a generous portion of the serum stored in a bottle brought just for this occasion. Rhaken noticed, of course, but didn't say anything. Taking samples for study or future use was sensible. Emdief was sure that by the end of the night, a sample would have found its way to Melek's possession, should Rhaken imagine she could be trusted.
There surely would be work to do, waiting for the dwarves to wake up. Testing to see if they respond to noise, smell, light shone in the eyes, pain... that, no doubt, was why he had been summoned here.
As his mind wandered, Emdief reached into his pocket to finger his Thaumometer. Checking it was almost second nature, in Steelhold.

It wasn't there.

Emdief's face remained passive, as always. He was known for it. But nonetheless, a feeling of panic welled up inside the engineer. It couldn't have left his possession on its own. Someone took it. As far as he knew, only three dwarves knew about the device; the masked dwarf, Rhaken and Fractaldwarf. Rhaken had no reason to take the device from him - he knew their contract would be honored. The Masked Dwarf had no reason Emdief could fathom, as he'd already told it where the magic in the fort originated. That left the least mentally stable dwarf in the room.

Emdief shot the Fractaldwarf a glare. Reflexively, his grip on his crossbow tightened.


"I don't know what you're plotting, sir. But if I don't hear a detailed explanation of how you appropriated my property and for what purpose you thought this was a good idea, that book of yours is going into the fireplace. I won't be touching it, mind you. You'll do that if you value your life."

The masked dwarf could be watching them right now. Damn. At least he'd be getting a good show.
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Rhaken

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #176 on: December 30, 2013, 12:55:47 am »

I tuck away the cigarette Corley gave me. I am not comfortable with the idea of smoking something made by the same dwarf who had devised a fake death potion. I don't like being called king either, but show no sign of it. Minutes later, Corley and Urvad seem to become more sluggish.

"I suppose now we wait for thirty hours then. No problem. I have food and drink for all of us here. The inspector will be busy going through the cell blocks and sweatshops, which will take days anyway. If he comes here to ask, he'll hear something about a search for apparently stolen property on the premises, no one allowed in or out, the works."

"Now. Let's discuss the future."

Best to do this while Corley is still conscious. Over the next two hours, while the lad is still awake, we discuss the terms of this alliance. I hear the fractaldwarf's plans, as well as Emdief's ideas for the defenses. No doubt about it, the lad is a genius.

When the two dwarves, noble's son and doublecrosser, both lose their senses and begin to fall, I'm there to keep Corley from banging his head. Urvad is not so lucky. His helmet will protect that empty melon. I catch Emdief taking a sample of the drug, but give no indication of it.

A sign of trouble. Seems like the fractaldwarf stole something of Emdief's. The lad starts making threats. I move to defuse the situation before it gets ugly.


The engineer is agitated. "Maskdwarf could be watching us right now. And we have no way of knowing," he says, perhaps a bit louder than he intended.

"He's not watching us." The two dwarves raise inquisitive eyebrows. "Even he can't hide from my gaze."

Through a careful combination of orders and common sense, I manage to get Emdief to stand down long enough for the fractaldwarf to explain himself. The two speak at length until the matter of this thaumometer, as the lad calls it, is settled. Then I turn to Emdief again.

"Feel free to start testing. Just no injuring or drawing blood. From either of them."

The lad goes about his business meticulously, testing the two dwarves for response to any and all kinds of stimuli, taking notes along the way. For all intents and purposes, they seem to be dead. Neither dwarf responds to anything. Not even the nutstomp, though the lad was gentle enough that it wouldn't hurt by the time they recovered from the potion's effects.

After testing is done, I quickly clean my desk. From a drawer, I pull out three mugs and a bottle of wine, still sealed. I uncork it with a buckle on my armor, and fill the three cups, taking a swig from my own to show that it's safe. From another drawer, a platter of plump helmets.


"Take your seats, have a meal. There is still much to discuss."



The drug works as advertised. After lengthy discussions on the logistics and future of Steelhold, wild speculation as to the maskdwarf's intentions, six redos of Emdief's stimuli tests, and unterminable rounds of charades (at the fractaldwarf's insistence), Corley and Urvad finally wake up. They are groggy and exhausted. Emdief and I get them to their feet, direct them to the food and booze on the desk. Neither of them bothers to consider that it might be poisoned before digging in with gusto. Once they are sated, I forcibly boot Urvad from my office, and gather the three dwarves around.

"You held up your end of the bargain. Now I'll hold mine. But before the three of you leave, remember that I promised to reveal secrets. I intend to keep that promise as well."

From a cabinet, I retrieve several papers. Most are recent, not yet aged or mildewed. All but one. I settle them down on the desk and direct their eyes to the first paper, which I unfold and turn so they can read it. On it is a timeline, drawn by me during the night, beginning with a marker for the year 28 and going all the way up to the present day.

"First, the order of events." I point to each date as I mention it. "Year 28, still in the Age of Myth. Asmel Pulleyclenches, the first queen of The Gloves of Admiring, our civilization, is killed in deadly combat against a one-eyed horror mate Alath Citymoral the Tenebrous Phantom of Twilight in the mountainhomes, Sprinkledlabor, in the dead of winter. Months earlier, a similar creature had slain Shem Bravepainted, her son, whom she was grooming to become king."

"Year 29, early in the spring. Finding that most of her siblings were either dead or unwilling, Zasit Lashedtrusses, the queen's fifth daughter, takes it upon herself to rule from her mother's throne. She quickly becomes a favorite of the people."

"Year 36, very first day of spring. The colony of Chainbell is founded. The Gloves of Admiring grows in power, influence, and population."

"Year 76, midsummer. Likot Lockedgears profanes The Tenebrous Abbey, a sacred temple in Chainbell where he served as high priest. For his sacrilege, the gods curse him to prowl the night in search of blood."

"Year 92, early summer. Obok Wealthsbanners is born. Her father, Tun Cryptscribed, mayor of Chainbell, fears he will lose the next election, leaving him with no way to support his family. He goes to the Tenebrous Abbey to pray. Finding his prayers unanswered, he defiles a sacred idol and is cursed with the bloodthirst for his sins."

"Year 98, middle of autumn. I am born in Paddleunion."

"Year 109, early winter. Two strange dwarves arrive in the human town of Orderumbral in the dead of night. They run into the sewer system, saying something about needing to be underground. Thus began what the humans now refer to as the Tyranny of Orderumbral, when the vampires Likot Lockedgears and Tun Cryptscribed ruled the settlement from the shadows, taking thousands of lives over a number of years to sate their bloodlust."

"Year 110. I marry Onul, and begin hunting in the Persuasive Blizzards to support us."

"Year 112. Caught in a blizzard while out hunting, I take refuge in what appears to be an abandoned cave. Inside, I find Olon Daggerfinger, the queen's elder brother and spymaster. He presses me into service and begins teaching me the arts of espionage and military strategy that very night." They look mildly suprised at that. Wonder how they'll react when the big stuff rolls around.

"Year 118. Dobar Theaterurges, the one surviving son queen Zasit, is slain by a cyclops. Zasit is left with no surviving children, and thus no heir."

"Year 133. After twenty years of service, I am finally permitted to tell my wife what I'm really doing. I am also given my own network of spies and become spymaster for the Queen's Third Army."

"Year 150. The vampire Tun Cryptscribed is slain Oku Constructcudgel, a human woman. She frees a dwarf woman whom the vampire had taken captive - Obok Wealthsbanners, the vampire's own daughter."

"Year 152. Olon Daggerfinger dies of old age. I inherit the position of royal spymaster."

"Year 167. Queen Zasit Lashedtrusses dies of old age. The royal line is extinguished. From the chaos emerges a charismatic dwarf woman - Obok Wealthsbanners of Chainbell. She gains the support of the people in a handful of months, and is crowned queen later that same year. My spies investigate her, and find that she was missing from Chainbel for years."

"Year 170. Obok begins purging her precedessor's advisors one by one. As you might expect, she starts with the royal spymaster - me. I am branded as a deserter and common criminal, and forced to flee in the night with my wife before they can arrest us. We return to the Persuasive Blizzards, change our names. I stay in touch with my agents, and find out that the queen has been making arrests left and right, rooting out the old regime. She doesn't seem to pay much mind to the ones that escaped. Investigation into her life continues, but at a crawl."

"Year 183. My daughter is born. Many of my agents have gone off the grid, but the realm is more calm now. If you discout the rising corruption throughout the kingdom. Onul and I are too far from the major cities to really be bothered with it."

"Year 185. Midsummer." My face and tone turn to frozen steel. "I return home from hunting to find my door smashed in, and a trail of gigantic footprints leading into the nearby woods. I follow them, and find my daughter's broken body in the hands of a cyclops. The cyclops escapes before I can regain my composure."

A short pause as I shake the memory from my head. Then I resume.

"Year 194. Queen Obok gives birth to Kol Ivyattic. One year later, my own son Udil is born. My spy network has been slowly recovering, but is still much smaller than when I was royal spymaster."

"Year 206. The queen gives birth to Rith Ochreblotted, her first daughter. News reach my ears of numerous deaths in Chainbell Penitentiary. An entire wing of the prison collapses into a sinkhole. A wing made up almost entirely of political prisoners of Zasit's reign."

"Year 214. Kol Ivyattic, the queen's firstborn, dies in a cyclops attack. Year 215. Kivish Brasswords, our current queen, is born. By the time she can walk, her mother has begun to groom her as heiress to the throne. My spies finally discover where Obok was during her absence from Chainbell. She was in Orderumbral."

"Year 225. Rith Ochreblotted, eldest of the queen's children, is killed by a cyclops while on a hunting trip. This leaves Kivish as the oldest surviving child."

"Year 233. A patrol from the mountainhomes arrives at my home to find it empty. I had already fled with Onul and our baby Stinthad, deep into the frozen wastes. Months later, when I emerge and establish contact with my spies again, I find that my son Udil has been killed in Chainbell. By a cyclops."

"Year 235. My family is still being hunted, and we are running out of money, food and safehouses. I leave my wife with the boy at a relative's place, recruit some thugs and take up organized crime. If they want me to be a terrorist, then I'll be a terrorist. My investigations continue, but the network has shrunk again."

"Year 240. Kivish, heiress to the crown, disappears. The queen makes a grand show of appearing distraught, but my sources tell me she doesn't even send out a search party."

"Year 243. Queen Obok dies of old age. Within weeks, Kivish has returned to claim the throne for herself. During winter of that same year, my gang gets ambushed by guardsmen in Sprinkledlabor during a robbery gone wrong. My entire crew is killed. I alone am taken prisoner. Since I had changed my name and aged considerably, no dwarf could recognize me as Queen Zasit's royal spymaster. I am sent to a common prison in the mountainhomes. Upon hearing the news, my wife gets herself arrested as well. I pull some strings, and we end up on the same cell block. My agents continue their work, but no reliable way of getting their intel back to me."

I fold the timeline away. "We all know the rest. Steelhold is founded. We get transferred. And so on. I was almost willing to give up on my old life and start again as a heartless, iron-fisted criminal warlord. Until I saw that raccoon-thing kill a child in front of me."

"Until last year, I'd had very little word from my agents. But it turns out that one of the merchants in the caravan from the mountainhomes was one of my spies. He gave me the results of his search, and I gave him new assignments to hand out. It's thanks to their work that I have all of this information now."

I unfold another piece of paper, lay it down on the desk. A list of names, accompanied by date of birth and, if applicable, date of death. A small genealogy of the royal lines of The Gloves of Admiring, along with several others. Including a particular family of cyclopes.

"The pieces finally clicked into place when I put them together like this. Central to this mess are The Tenebrous Abbey in Chainbell, the vampires Tun and Likot, the cyclops tribe and Orderumbral." Laid out on paper like this, it was impossible not to see. The current royal line descended from the vampire Tun. Tun, who had been dead for over a century.

"My agents couldn't investigate the Abbey. It is patrolled around the clock by a dedicated company of guardsdwarves. We also lost all trail of the vampire Likot after his partner Tun was killed. All we know is that he's not in Orderumbral anymore. But we did manage to investigate the cyclops tribe."

"It turns out that the monsters are linked to Linkot. We don't know how. We do know that they are being controlled, and had contact with the vampire mere months before he moved to Orderumbral. Somehow, they are either under Likot's control, or at the beck and call of the royal family. Some of the family, anyway."

"And now for the big one." I took the last paper I had prepared. It was a scroll, too large for a dwarf to handle comfortably. Its rim was frayed and edged in rot, but it still didn't look its full age. I unroll it to the best of my ability, keeping the inside turned to me.

"When the human Oku killed Tun, she took the opportunity to raid his treasure vault. It was filled with gold, jewels, statues and forbidden tomes. And at the back of the vault, in a small alcove concealed by a fake wall section, she found this."I turn the scroll toward them. They gape.

Drawn on the scroll was a perfect likeness of the maskdwarf's mask.




OOC: Final update and save coming today!
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Of course, he may have simply crushed the forgotten beasts with his massive testicles.

Forget a spouse, he needs a full time gonad wrangler.

highmax28

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  • I think this is what they call a tantrum spiral...
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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #177 on: December 30, 2013, 01:05:45 am »

I've been busy with other things... I guess its high time i got myself caught up to speed...
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just shot him with a balistic arrow, i think he will get stuned from that >.>

"Guardian" and Sigfriend Of Necrothreat
Jee wilikers, I think Highmax is near invulnerable, must have been dunked in the river styx like achilles was.
Just make sure he wears a boot.

Gnorm

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #178 on: December 30, 2013, 01:34:32 am »

I've been busy with other things... I guess its high time i got myself caught up to speed...
Indeed! You have a character running about the fort and we haven't heard anything from him. This must change.
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And we were this close to yet another victim of Gnorm, the Overseer Killer.

4maskwolf

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #179 on: December 30, 2013, 01:42:51 am »

The vampire paced the room, counting his steps as he went.  One, two three...
A sudden movement in the shadows of the room caught his attention, and from the shadows stepped the masked dwarf.  The vampire sighed,
"So, slayer of my kin, you have deigned to confront me?"
"Not confront you.  I have become wiser since my youth, more focused.  I know my true objective now"
"Then why have you come, walker in darkness?"
"I come to deliver a warning."
"A warning of what?"
"Rhaken knows who you are.  It is only a matter of time."
The vampire snorted, "as if I didn't know that.  What's your point?"
"My point, cursed one, is that you will soon have a choice to make.  Choose wisely."
With that, the shadows whirled around the masked dwarf, and he was gone.
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