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[Neri]

19th Felsite, 112.

     In the two months since I last wrote, my frustrations have lessened, and I have started to relax into an easy routine. Until today. Ashlander Elves have lain in ambush, the stature of my greatness in their mind, obviously diluted by distance ad ignorance, and Thus; They have decided to make war on me, and my incompetent servants. Speaking of Incompetence, Saher has passed away, with nobody noticing. Such a great combatant should have at least put up a fight against whatever it was, yes? idiocy and uselessness abound all around it seems.

     I am in awe of the outfits owned by these Ashlander elves, the Colours! the Shades! the delicately transparent shapes of the glass! How I ache to have Jreb dressed in these, doing a sultry walk across my bedchamber!

     At any rate, I pulled the Corpse Pit Lever, as work cannot be interrupted on the grounding floor, nor on the first floor, which shall contain my Library of Burning Doom, and the second, which shall contain a brilliantly appointed and decorated Throne Room.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Neri]

19th Galena, 112.

     My great Grounding Floor is almost complete, just a few finishing touches, and it will be complete, finally, with no interruptions

     Calamity! The Bandit King has sent raiders! I have given the order to pull the Corpse Pit Lever, but can anything really stem the tide, apart from sheer ethereal power, and arcane might? we shall find out. My shambling army is currently heading out the floodgates to wrench the enemy limb from limb, and oesophagus from spine.

     TenderRoast has been put in official reprimand, and thus, while my heart yearns to defend the Tower of RegalDoom in messy hand-to-hand combat with my undoubted skill and inestimable prowess, I must urgently take this skeleton to task, and leave this risk to others.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Neri]

25th Galena, 112.

     Some Idiot, named Mmwej has failed his responsibility. As military commander, it was his responsibility to raise the western drawbridge, while my faithful Steward pulled the Corpse Pit Lever. Instead he simply ran from place to place, overconfidence being his downfall. His enormous Hubris has led to the Bandit Raiders to enter the tower, hammers bludgeoning any who stood in their path.

     Thankfully Mmwej has opted out of being punished for his stupidity and transgressions by having his head caved in, from the chin upwards, and had little grey chunks bursting out the top, splattering brain all over my favourite robe. thankfully Jreb, Heznh and myself are still safe, and countless undead have been released from the pit. I go now to re-seal it, in preparation for the next attack. I need to collect more souls, our meagre collection will not suffice to raise that idiot Mmwej from death to take his proper disciplinary punishment.

     In better news, it turns out that Purple nail lacquer is a mix of blue and red (thus creating brown) with small flecks of brain mixed in. I must remember to properly thank Mmwej for allowing me to make this discovery. My manicures shall be the stuff of nightmares, as the stories are told in the hovels of my enemies.

     The finishing touches have been delayed on my Arcane Grounding Floor, until enough souls are collected to ensure our survival. My ascension cannot become one with reality unless I manage to survive the Bandit King's wrath, after I accidentally killed and animated his son and heir, after sneaking off drunk from my incompetent Ex-Masters Tower.

     

[Neri]

16th Timber, 112.

     At first, I thought a circus had come to call, complete with cantankerous hairy midgets. Which would have been both bloody and amusing. Unfortunately, it seems we have annoyed the local dwarves with my well merited letters demanding surrender, as well as tribute in the form of Dwarven Syrup. Deliciously naughty for my waistline.

     They seem to be clad in steel, which is a good sign, as our forces will be that much better clad when the inevitable slaughter is complete, and aforementioned forces are replenished with the skeletons, and twisted ghoulish forms of our enemies!

[Neri]

16th Timber, 112.

     The dwarves have decided to start singing 'Kumbaya', and therefore have set up a campfire, and spend a large portion of the day sitting on some felled logs and grunting, presumably about alcohol and beards, though at this distance, who can tell? They have taken feeble potshots at our walls with the miniture balistae they seem to be carrying instead of crossbows, and then retreated under the looming doom of my arcane might, after several hours that I spent reinforcing the secure inner fortified section of the tower against any possible infiltrators who may have made it past the raised drawbridges and hastily assembled skeletons, as well as the minions, animated sledgehammers and my loyal Coven of Heznh and Jreb.

     I have decided to reanimate several skeletons that had been damaged by raiders and other such worthless trash. The extra servants shall be useful for when the stunted bastards eventually decide to attack, though I am busy sending everything that can walk, crawl or fly into the pit to be turned to better use, and soon as the dwarves come skulking closer to my Tower, I shall unleash the full power of my arcane and necromantic might! probably from my bedroom, or the lower kine, just to really show I do not even need to be present to be effective and dangerous.

     I have instructed my Steward to signal parley, so that we may accept their surrender. He seemed to stare at me in slack jawed astonishment, presumably not believing I could be so clearsighted and cunning as to demand the surrender of such a proud race. He soon nodded, and asked if I would please make myself safe for the duration, to keep myself in reserve as our magically supreme arsenal to threaten with. I  therefore retreated underground, into a cosy nook one of the skeletons started to care out of the rock on my order to note these events down. Heznh sends messages every few hours, detailing the danger he is in and what has been happening, and I am almost grateful that I have a steward of such steadfast courage, and faith in my omnipotence. heart would be cleft in twain

     I shall have to remind him not to neglect my darling Jreb, and to see to her safety even at the cost of his own, as I care for her, and my heart would be cleft in twain were she to perish in a manner that forsook her being raised again.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Neri]

The following was found on a scrap of paper, and is in the casual, flowing hand of Heznh, former Steward of RegalDoom. It is slightly burnt in one corner, and has had wine spilt on it at some point, probably dousing the fire.

21st Timber, in the year 112 of the Common Era, RegalDoom.

     That cowardly prat has told me to open negotiations with the Dwarves out there. I keep telling him, they are afraid and will rout due to his supreme magic, blah blah blah. It seems he will be staying underground for the duration of this occupying force. We have unlimited water, as our tower is situated above a river, with a single well right into it on the ground floor that He has done up in garish colours, and demanded that it be renamed the 'Grounding' floor. This is usually followed by a spate of giggling, probably at his own 'wit.'
 
     Jreb has been happy lately, especially after I contrived the death of the last ghoul, so she isn't followed by the putrid stench of them all day. We had a small ceremony, proceeded by one of the skeletons, to confirm our vows. We are wed, as Man and Wife, til death do us part. We decided to celebrate by christening every part of the tower above ground, as Mekhelb hasn't poked his head up from the mines since I told him I'd started negotiations with the dwarf leader. I have come to be thankful to the dwarves, especially after I convinced Jreb to start wearing that glass armour the elves left, and nothing else. A good few days.

     One of the OverLoser's favoured skeletons, TemptsFate took a turn for the worse after Mekhelb cracked its skull in one of his hissy fits. I mended the Skeleton on the altar, and it seems as good as new now. Not sure why the OverLoser didn't do this himself, probably didn't want to break one of his nails.

     Writing this was good, got the thoughts out and ordered. Even if I need to burn this, like the others, I will continue to show respect to His face, and ensure we survive long enough to take gems enough to buy our own life somewhere far away. Jreb said she spotted a bottle of wine in His personal stash, and is coming past soon, though I may just throw her down on the table if she comes in in that Glass Armour again.

[Neri]

The journal of Mekhelb, Former Overlord of RegalDoom, continues.

1st Obsidian, 112.

     I have at last come from my inspections of the mine, as I do  not believe the dwarves will come out without a show of bravery and courage. I therefore informed Heznh of my plans to come up to the Tower proper. After much arguing on his part, mostly to do with concerns for my safety (I have really found a most loyal Steward, I shall have to find a way to reward him.) I have ascended, thereby showing the Dwarves there is no fear to be found in this fortress, despite the Crossbows that Heznh insists are not actually a form of ballistae.

     I have, in my bravery decided to return to my quarters, and on the way, I discovered my Grounding Floor to be complete! I then assembled The skeletons as an Honour Guard and Commanded Heznh and Jreb accompany me to the Great Unveiling. Jreb nearly took my breath away, her ephemeral beauty stunning me to wordless awe, She must have heard I was coming back to the Tower proper, and prepared herself for me accordingly , as a sign of her great affection, nay, Love for me.

     She was slightly dishevelled, with her hair in a mess, and nothing on her but the near-transparent Glass Armour, with a bedsheet wrapped around her legs, presumably as an obscure reference to high fashion.

     The Great Unveiling went off successfully, striking undoubted awe into my subjects. The pattern should help to secure any spells cast within the tower, bleeding any excess downwards, until it can be collected by an astonishingly handsome and capable individual of extreme power. Me.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

((also, I am not quite sure why Mekhelb has 'Witch' as a skill, as he is male... but maybe he is just getting into his feminine side. Manicures feed the power?))

[Neri]

3rd Obsidian, 112.

     The indignity! The horrible feeling of frozen claws leaving a molten trail of blazing acid, eating its way through the memories of your mind, while your body rages against the intrusion! The flailing and hitting,  leaving painful bruises that may well incapacitate a lesser iron-willed man.

     An ungrateful ghoul, refusing to believe the merits of letting the body be butchered and thrown to the Corpse Pit, has risen as a ghost, and as its first act, it invaded my mind, attempting to insert its hideous will against my rigid self control, and iron constitution.

     The resulting struggle was shortly resolved to my satisfaction, its pitiful attempts on my life, sanity, Lacquer collection and writing table have netted the disembodied horror my pity, and I have therefore decided to send a note demanding the body be entombed, allowing it it's peaceful rest. Any who question the authenticity of this decision or the means under which it was arrived at will be sentenced to twenty lashes immediately.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Neri]

Sorry for the delay guys, the game and story aren't dead, just..... sleeping. Under a stack of studies, child-rearing, wife annoying and job hunting (with a spear!).

[Neri]

As it turns out, I'm getting a commission for some writing I'm doing for an awesome tabletop role-playing system currently in development (http://www.fraggedempire.com). So our beloved *coughkillhimcough* Overlord will have to wait. Again, sorry guys.

[Meph]

No, how can you do that to Regaldoom? His fingernails will grow long and splinter without regular attention, and if no skeleton to shave him every morning, he will lose all respectability, growing such a silly beard... like a dwarf, or that wannabe Gandalf charakter.

[Neri]

Hmmm, it appears our Star of the show, the delightful and decadently awesome (in his own very humble opinion) cannot be saved. I have backtracked as far as the last post four times, and every time he is stricken by melancholy, or a rage. I refuse to fudge the game back any further, so I hope DF throws me a fun bone.

Therefore I will play through once more, and write what happens. does the story end? I hope not, I just got some free time while my other project is going through editing. on the other hand, me playing MWDF in a competant manner is not always assured, so perhaps I shall chose another race if this story dies.

May Mekhelb the Great and Terrible always guide you in fashionable nails, and leave you be in EVERY other aspect of life.

[Neri]

10th Slate, 113. Hail the MeadLord, King of the Underhalls of Iton Rivol. A final, tearsoaked and half ripped page has been found and pieced together, reading as the last journal entry of Mekhelb Khetyeyalhewaha, Former Overlord of RegalDoom, and tells of the end of the shortlived threat to our Kingdom. All personal effects and sorcerous Artefacts and Artifices have been collected and turned to the furnaces as ordered Sire. The Brewery has been given orders for free rounds for the 3rd legion as compensation to the poor dwarves who had to face that mess. The captain reports that the Undead boiled out of the Tower, after several months of seige and taking potshots at the walls, and it was only disciplined crossbow fire, room to room fighting and their trusty rose gold armour that saw them through. All Warlocks and walking corpses named in the logs have been accounted for amongst the dead and burnt. Praise Armok, May he never Tire of our Trials.

26th Obsidian. The Final Year of RegalDoom, and its broken Master. 112.

     I have seen death. The genocidal campaigns of my old master, torture of flesh being peeled from bones, tendons ripped and ligaments torn, magic that wastes flesh away while keeping the subject concious, and have employed most of these methods for power, pleasure, personal adornment and general amusement.

     I, the formerly pretentious Mekhelb have never lost any sleep, nor given a thought to the fate of any of these pathetic wretches, beyond fond imaginings of more pain and death to fill my days. However, I have not slept in almost three weeks. My nails go unkept, and my face has sprouted hair like a weed, watered by my tears, and the rich fertilizer of my underlings words to me. I now cut a figure in my now unwashed and grey robes of some hedge wizard, who could cavort with myriad dirty dwarves, or gnomes, and never seem out of place.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

His fingernails will grow long and splinter without regular attention, and if no skeleton to shave him every morning, he will lose all respectability, growing such a silly beard... like a dwarf, or that wannabe Gandalf charakter.

     The ghost of the Ghoul who attacked me, did no lasting physical or mental harm, beyond delivering knowledge. I go soon, to fix what  must be fixed, and to set aright the great wrong done to me. The Ghost, in it's cruelty left an awareness inside me, of doings within my own Tower between my unfaithful Steward, and the darkness that guides my dreaming hours, Jreb, the Beautiful Lie. They are together, sworn as Man and Wife, not Warlock to Witch, denying me even the respect due my station, by withholding this apparently trivial piece of heartrending information.

I shall raise all the mindless undead within range, Ordering them to kill every living thing that walks, crawls or flies. I shall be expending even my own powerful soul if need be, to destroy the trivial dwarfish threat, and my ever faithfully bacKStaBBING HORRIBLE BILE WORHTY TRAITOUROUS LYING CUCKOO BIRDS IN MY MIDST! May The Dark Enter Your Soul, you snivelling traitorous worms. So Sayeth I in the Name of RegalDoom, in the Way of the Warlock Covenant.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

     And if anyone is Interested, this was Mekhelb of RegalDoom:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[MerkerBenson]

So, can't you just resurrect him? I thought warlocks could do that, since they're only a handful at any one time. Even dwarfs can do that using the cleric healer....
It would be a warlocky twist to the tale, mind you...

Otherwise I demand revenge in the form of a new WARLOCK tale
Since I won't be playing another DF/DW game until I manage to finally finish my first mega project

Cheers

[Neri]

I could, but I couldn't see either Jreb or Heznh doing it with those personalities. plus the whole "they hurt me, Kill Them All!" is fairly entertaining, and suited an egocentric warlock fairly well.