It was an uneventful early winter day in the fortress Muraknazush. Shorast and Olon sat on the top of the wall playing dice, ever-watchful for any enemy who would try to pass.
"You tu'n, lad", - croaked Shorast with broken smile on his half-paralyzed face. Speaking was hard for him and doubly hard for anyone who tried to understand, yet he was still alive after all these years of neverending battles.
"Oh, sorry, thought I heard something", - apologized Olon.
" 'at, lad? Nothing - and I mean nothing! - 'ould c'eep he'e on it's o'n"
"Well... If you say so"
With a profound creak, old watchtower door opened, revealing captain Urist, clad in black mail, with a look of concentration on face.
"How's the watch?"
"Une'entful, si'e", - stood Shorast, dice long gone from the view. He threw a glance onto white-clad earth outside and suddenly freezed. - "Said too soon"
Down there was a figure clad in rags. It somewhat resembled a dwarf, which it was long ago. Now, it was a wild madman, with tangled hair and a forlorn look of half-dead eyes.
"So, watching the surface, eh?", - spitted captain.
"He 'asn't e'e a moment ago!"
"What's your business here?", - cried Urist on the top of his lungs, forgetting about his subordinates for a moment.
Silence.
"Hey, do you hear us?", - tried Olon after a minute of awkward silence.
No sound came. Stranger stood still, ignorant to the shouts and snowflakes that fell on him.
" 'at a c'eepy ello' ", - grumbled Shorast.
"Yeah, indeed...", - Urist once again tried to receive any reaction from a ragged dwarf.
"A zombie, maybe? Or that blood-something?"
Shorast's face blackened and he groaned:
"Don't lis'en to these anites, Olon. Thei ole bunch is stuffed 'ith mad ools dep'i'ed of eality and subme'ged in sel'-induced d'eams o e'oism..."
Old warrior had long relations of hate and even more hate with knights of St Zane. And even Urist, who firmly believed in their cause, tried not to argue with his subordinate every time Shorast went on about "anites".
"So, what we do?", - said captain, cutting short possibly endless speech.
"Just 'ait. Soone o late e 'ould eeze to death. O gone om ou 'alls"
"I say we take him to the manager", - proposed Olon.
Dwarves looked at each other.
"Yea, g'eat idea, lad"
"Let's go"
That day was like a first in a life of Lokast, a mute dwarf found on the outskirts of a fortress. He somewhat regained his sanity after seeing paper, writing on it and being properly fed. He could not remember anything that happened before seeing a wall of a fortress, yet possessed calligraphic writing style someone could only expect from a expert record keeper or historian.
Little of use firstly and under constant surveillance - naturally being suspected as a spy - Lokast soon proved himself in the eyes of fortress manager and was allowed to live quietly on the outskirts, doing what was needed, but mostly left to himself. Dwarves, firstly interested in him due to uniqueness, soon forgot that he even existed. Lokast was perfectly fine alone - and everyone else was perfectly fine without him.
For six years he lived at Muraknazush, but time has come to leave it behind. Lokast travelled far and wide in next four years, never standing for long anywhere, gathering information about the world and tiny bits he could remember and record about his previous self. Now, his path leads him straight to the Demongate.
Personal traits:
Lokast is polite and well-written, quite aware to the things around him, self-conscious and quite secluded. He rarely tries to converse with anyone, but if he does, his writing speed can prove to be capable of sustaining normal speed of discussion.
' I'm less. Yet I'm more. Neither sane nor mad. Dead but living forevermore. Or so says the first page of my diary... I'm Lokast. The Silent Scribe '
Specifics:
Any gender, but male if multiple variants are available (I still presume that Lokast would be female with my luck)
Profession is absolutely irrelevant, I'll go in direction the fortress most requires.
+ Gold eyes
(if not present in civilization genes, go for "prefers being alone"/"reserved")+ Prone to rage
- Pathetic intellect
So, raging golden-eyed intellectual male dwarf is a perfect candidature. Raging/golden-eyed normality is acceptable, but not preferred.
EDIT: I managed to gen a gold-eyed berserker in a migrant wave. So, Lokast must arrive somewhere in the second year. Just wait a bit and don't hurry to dwarf the first idiot you get
Author
Topic: Demongate: Wrapping up the Loose Ends. (Read 698121 times)