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[4maskwolf]

For two months, the overseer Sir Brenzen was rarely seen.  He was spotted, occasionally, in the barracks, training with the other squads.  But the rest of the time, nobody knew where he was, though many suspected he had something to do with the walling off of the underground entrance to the spider fort.  Few used the dining area of the spider fort anyway, so nobody objected overmuch to the new arrangement.

On the 28th of Slate, four dwarves received letter in their rooms.  Tun, the mayor, Tarmid, the scribe, Ingish, an engineer, and Bomrek, a doctor.  The letter read:

Meet at the sealed place when the darkest hour of the night has arrived.  There is a matter of dire import to discuss, one that concerns the whole fortress.  Ensure nobody follows you.

At the appointed hour, one by one, the dwarves arrived at the wall that sealed off the spider fort.  There was a clicking sound from the wall, and part of it slid open to allow them entrance.  On the other side of the fake wall stood Sir Brenzen.

"Come, friends." He said simply, turning and striding off into the darkness.

The four dwarves glanced at each other before following Sir Brenzen.  He walked a ways down the hall, turned the corner, and they could hear the wall sliding shut behind them.  Suddenly, Sir Brenzen turned to the right, halfway down the corridor where a wall used to be.  An oil lamp was lit inside, and they could now see a series of rooms, carved out of the dirt, laid out in a somewhat bare fashion.  Two tables sat in the center room, pushed together, surrounded by six chairs.  Sir Brenzen took his place at the head of the table and, when they all found seats, began to speak.

"Welcome to the first meeting of the Demongate Guardians."


Another post is likely to come later tonight or tomorrow afternoon.

[4maskwolf]

Oh gods I'm sorry....

Good morning Steelhold, to the tune of Good Morning Tucson by Jonathan Coulton

Still so dark because it's
still so early and the
chipper little girly on lookout doesn't mind at all
these phony dining rooms and
fake swords are killing me
this bad liquor's filling me with equal parts joy and rage

Put my armor on and crack in half
I choke back a laugh
Find the dipshits who annoyed me

Good Morning Steelhold!
The magic flows and so I smile wide and say
Good Morning Steelhold!
I'll kill all you before I end my life this way

When I was coming up I
got the axes which means I
got the axes that I wanted
there was no young punk
to steal my iron blades
and I am still sort of amazed that you can be born in the fortress

When I don't like what they talk about
I stab them, bleeding out
They just gasp and cry for air

Good Morning Steelhold!
The magic flows and so I smile wide and say
Good Morning Steelhold!
I'll kill you all before I end my life this way

While they yell and argue I pretend I'm paying notice
But I'm really far away
I'm really far away
I keep my smile warm
So that they don't think I'm evil
'Cause now I have someone to slay
I have someone to slay

The fort is melting but I
Still keep going it's been a
pleasure knowing you I wish you all the best of luck
when my target dies I'm
Comfortable winging it I'm
Practically singing it the song that tears the world apart

Through the incinerating fireball
I see the fortress fall
Into hellfire and ashes

Good morning Steelhold
The magic flows and so I smile wide and say
Good morning Steelhold
I'll kill you all before I end my life this way!

FYI: This song is about a dwarf driven mad by Corley's magic during the fall of Steelhold.

[danmanthedog]

I like it

[4maskwolf]

"Welcome to the first meeting of the Demongate Guardians."

Sir Brenzen's voice rang out across the table.  There was a brief silence, then a million questions at once.

"Why are we here?"
"What are you talking about?"
"What is going on?"

Tarmid remained silent.  He had hoped it would not have to come to this, but Sir Brenzen had deemed it necessary to invoke the emergency plan.  They had always had it in their back pocket, in case of a disaster, and perhaps it was getting to the point where drastic action would be needed.  Still, Sir Brenzen could be a little less blunt about this.

Sir Brenzen raised his hand for silence, and the clamor died almost immediately, "All will be answered in due time," he turned to Tarmid, "I am invoking the emergency disclosure powers that come with my rank, Tarmid.  As a scribe of the order, it is your duty to make note of that, should the council wish to review it."

"Now, to begin.  I have the right, as a high magebane of the order of the Knights of St. Zane, to, in an emergency, divulge certain facts about the situation that would be otherwise classified, at my discretion.  Let me be clear: nothing any of us say here leaves this room, or there will be hell to pay."

The room was dead silent, apart from the scratching of Tarmid's pen against parchment.

"I have called you here today because you represent some of the most important and skilled dwarves in our fortress.  You three have demonstrated yourselves to be dwarves of great courage and quick mind, and that is exactly what we need."

In shortened speech, Sir Brenzen gave the assembled dwarves insight into the current nature of the fortress: of the menace of Castle Helgard, of the true mission of the fortress's founding, and of the magic in their midst.  The three laydwarves sat stunned, unsure of what to do with the revelations that had been thrust upon them.
In closing, Sir Brenzen finished, "Each of you have your own unique skills in various areas.  Ingish, it is said that you can build any machine, any trap, with ease and simplicity, yet they are far more effective than anything another dwarf can make.  Bomrek, you are an expert in examining the bodies of the fallen as well as the wounds of the living.  And Tun, you occupy a unique position of trust as our mayor."

Sir Brenzen paused for a moment, then said, in a softer, friendlier tone, "And if we are to survive, if the fortress is to survive, I will need each of you to help us.  Can you do that?"

Another long pause, then Ingish stood, "If what you say is true, I am willing to accept the honor of being called a guardian.  What is it I can do?"

A weary smile came across Sir Brenzen's face, "Thank you, Ingish.  Tarmid can explain to all of you who accept what you can do for the fortress in this hour of need.  But an hour has passed, and we must depart, before anyone begins to wonder where we are."


So, yeah, Sir Brenzen just assembled a group of various dwarves to assist in rooting out and eliminating threats both internal and external.

[4maskwolf]

Hey all, quick update, I'm going to be out of town the next couple of days, so the next post should be on Monday.  Feel free to write character stuff in the meantime.

[FallenAngel]

From the engravings of FallenAngel IV, Legendary+2 Bodysurfer

I have completed my greatest invention. It is a portal to the spirit dimension. Once I pull the lever, thousands of random troubled souls will be released and haunt those who do not believe in ghosts, or those with far weaker connections to magic than normal. I can't control whose souls will be released, but it'll be the souls of the dead from this continent for sure.

[Deus Asmoth]

Thane's Journal.

I sense a great disturbance in the air, as though millions of voices are sighing in exasperation.

[Gnorm]

There are already ghosts in Demongate! You don't need to create a portal out of nowhere to justify them being there!

[FallenAngel]

There are already ghosts in Demongate! You don't need to create a portal out of nowhere to justify them being there!

FallenAngel is going to make more ghosts.
The soul portal was actually a failed donkey maker. Don't ask why a donkey maker was necessary. It just was.

[Gnorm]

There are already ghosts in Demongate! You don't need to create a portal out of nowhere to justify them being there!

FallenAngel is going to make more ghosts.
The soul portal was actually a failed donkey maker. Don't ask why a donkey maker was necessary. It just was.

Why do we need more ghosts! Why do you want more ghosts! What is your motivation for anything you do! How did you make this portal! Why would you make a donkey-maker!

[MDFification]

The Ghost of Vlad is tired of this horseshit.

[FallenAngel]

There are already ghosts in Demongate! You don't need to create a portal out of nowhere to justify them being there!

FallenAngel is going to make more ghosts.
The soul portal was actually a failed donkey maker. Don't ask why a donkey maker was necessary. It just was.

Why do we need more ghosts! Why do you want more ghosts! What is your motivation for anything you do! How did you make this portal! Why would you make a donkey-maker!

We need more ghosts because nothing is happening. FallenAngel doesn't need a solid motivation for ANYTHING. He does things because things are to be done. The portal was made by fine-welding some plasticone magitek spongiform bovine femurs into a helical shape, which was then infused with the force of 14 slightly upset demigods through continual chanting. The donkey maker was to make transporting goods easier, and because war donkeys.

[Gnorm]

What do you mean "nothing is happening!" If you want more action, why don't you try participating in some of the plot-lines that are already happening? If you are going to start something, put some thought into it. Don't just come out and say that you have a spirit portal—or a donkey maker—without any build up or reason. Do you have any plans for where you want to take this story? Could it not be done with any of the ghosts or specters that already exist in Demongate? What happened to the plot-line with FallenAngel's brother? Isn't that more important to him than random acts of randomness? Also, even if he was to make a portal to the Afterlife, wouldn't it be better to try and summon something specific instead of just letting so many spirits flow through as they please?

[Deus Asmoth]

There are already ghosts in Demongate! You don't need to create a portal out of nowhere to justify them being there!

FallenAngel is going to make more ghosts.
The soul portal was actually a failed donkey maker. Don't ask why a donkey maker was necessary. It just was.

Why do we need more ghosts! Why do you want more ghosts! What is your motivation for anything you do! How did you make this portal! Why would you make a donkey-maker!

We need more ghosts because nothing is happening. FallenAngel doesn't need a solid motivation for ANYTHING. He does things because things are to be done. The portal was made by fine-welding some plasticone magitek spongiform bovine femurs into a helical shape, which was then infused with the force of 14 slightly upset demigods through continual chanting. The donkey maker was to make transporting goods easier, and because war donkeys.

I tried to understand what you just wrote without resorting to google. This is what I came up with:

The portal was made by (some form of) welding some (?) (FF6 reference) (femurs from mad cow disease stricken cows) into a spiral

As for needing ghosts because you don't think enough is happening, have you ever watched a film where instead of a plot, there's just things exploding? Just because someone's not putting a doomsday plan into action all the time doesn't mean that nothing is going on, and when there isn't a lot of story in a succession game, that generally means we haven't suffered catastrophic levels of fatalities recently. That is a good thing.

[Gnorm]

Decided to get my act together and write a few pages in the book of lore that Corley's supposed to have been working for these past years. Will post soon.

A GENERAL HISTORY OF STEELHOLD:
addressed to the Order of the Knights of St. Zane
by Corley, 2nd Baron of the Barony of Steelhold and Father to the Bloodkin forces

Preface

I confess that I am loathe to put pen to paper and put forth this account. Indeed, even after all these many years I still cannot look back upon the fortress Steelhold without feeling the utmost regret for all that transpired in that damned place. There, Dwarfkind's sins—having been kept at bay by monarchical leadership and harsh law—reached their culmination upon being unchecked in the times of anarchy. It would seem as if my clansmen and I are cursed; my father, my cousin, my grand-aunt, and I have all fallen prey to that darkness that one tries—often in vain—to hide. When it came to pass that the Creator Armok found it pleasing to have Steelhold purged and eliminated, not even He could entirely cleanse the evil that lurked within, for I escaped and my tools of destruction followed.

Following my escape, my great conquest would overtake the entirety of what is often called the Old World. My forces seemed to be unstoppable, and the grass upon which I trod turned to ash in my wake. Yet still the evils of my past did haunt me, and the sleepless monstrosity that I have become is an eternal reminder of this. I could never be fully satisfied, and I took my battle to the Mainland. There I nearly met my end by the sword, defeated by an enemy more powerful than I had faced before. Mortally wounded, I was sealed away from the world, locked in a prison of endless sleep. There did I remain for what I have determined to be almost five hundred years.

I awoke within the fortress Demongate, home to a great many helpful dwarves. Your Order retains a strong presence there, as of this writing, primarily through the knight Brenzen and the scribe Tarmid. Of these two, at only one did I attempt harm, only twice, and through indirect means. Through the incompetence of my allies, I was forced to flee the fortress; the scribe lives still.

Through these events, I have come to realize that, despite my reservations, the history of Steelhold and its people. Of those that lived within her halls, very few escaped, and if Karius Durtis ever wrote on the subject, I have no doubt that his writings have been guided astray by his zealous devotion for his master. Indeed, from what I have seen in this new time, several tomes of enormous size exist on the subject of Steelhold, and not a single one exists that is accurate. It has therefore become my duty to set down in ink the truth of the matter, that it may be preserved in fact forever and ever.

Time has indeed distorted the tale of Steelhold. If your Order knows anything about its history, you will know that there was no saint in the fortress, no, not one. Those that your Order adores were at best pillagers, and at worst monsters. There was no victory on their part; I was the sole victor in those days. The truths that will be set forth before you in this volume may not fix what damage has been done to history, but it can be balm to begin its healing.

Consider this history my final gift to Dwarfkind. With it, you that will most certainly be left behind and forgotten when the Ark is born in her glory will with certainty be able to look to the past and leave doubts behind. Steelhold is a reminder of our horrible Dwarven nature; may she live forever in these pages.

—Corley, 2nd Baron of the Barony of Steelhold and Father of the Bloodkin