Groo the Wanderer
9th of Hematite, Year 30
"I have arrived, I am Groo!" Cried Groo from his perch in a willow tree. No dwarves answered his call, so he jumped down from its branches and went to inspect the seemingly silent tower. In front of the trade Depot, a giant wolverine attacked him from ambush.
"What ho? Such fun!" Cried Groo, quickly strapping his copper spear to his back, and for a few minutes enjoyed playing "jump n bump" with the creature until it tired of the sport and lay panting in the grass as Groo's feet.
"I shall name you "Black Socks", cried Groo. "Such a good girl..."
Upon entering the Tower, he beheld a great stockpile of potent brews in casks waiting to be tapped and in the next rooms great stacks of masterfully prepared roasts of all manner and description. The next room after that, however, was more grisly however: four dwarven corpses, two armored, two obviously civilian, lay amid stacks of armor and weapons, one looking forlornly at his severed hand. Groo had awakened in that tree with Forii-gifted knowledge, reminding him of his purpose and that the Goodbrews Clan was at the cusp of extinction. He girded himself with the best armor that the room had to offer before continuing his explorations:
A steel helm encrusted with round goshenite cabochons and studded with silver.
(On it is a well designed image of "The Conflagration of Heroes", the andesite slab.)
Masterful steel chain leggings menacing with spikes of superior quality gold and bearing the maker's mark of "Kivishborik, The Legendary Armorsmith".
A suit of leather armor adorned with hanging rings of well crafted native silver
Finally, he picked up a plain steel mace and took a few practice swings.
"You'll do." he simply said and strapped it to his waist with the shield.
Further explorations only turned up more dead dwarven corpses perforated and mangled in thier beds - one was even clasping a copper throne to his chest. It was a very sad sight, but none of the corpses were Goodbrews, which gladdened him a bit. Exiting the Tower, he came upon two more corpses, but still, neither were Goodbrews. Suddenly, as he was pressing a juniper bush aside to pass by, he was stunned by a sudden vision:
***The peaceful town of Numurdim or is threatened! The forces of the weasel brute Glacierhail "the Skunk of Reigns" are on the march. Commanded by the troll Rima Elderwalked "The Past Valley", they will have no mercy. There is little time -- you must flee. Perhaps your family and freinds can be convinced to leave.
Legends speak of an ancient vault, Blazedguards, where the weasel brute wrested his power from the Underworld by invoking his true name. The location of this place is well-known, but none have penetrated its secrets. If the true name of the monster can be uncovered, you might be able to end this terror forever...***
So: that was his two-fold mission.
a) Attempt to convince the remaining Goodbrews to be his travel companions, so that he could be thier loyal body gaurd
b) Attempt to hunt down the goblins and dwarf responsible for such slaughter and repay them in similar coin.
The only Goodbrews he knew about were currently living in the land of Ice and Fire: Pricedtraps. So, he headed east, past the Tufted Spine and into The Swift Hill. Soon he entered the flower-filled "Free Forest", coming out its westernmost egde by midafternoon into the Hazy Hill and soon the gritty earth of the Auburn Dunes. It was here he first caught sight of the white mountains to the west, rising above yet another forest. He was thankful he'd brought some of the "River Spirits" from the emptied Tower, for the water in his waterskin had frozen solid. Taking this as a sign, Groo fumbled his thanks to the Forii and continued westward, sating himself with some jerky. That sunset found him deep in the Flayed Jungles, close enough for the chill wind flowing from the snowy peaks to leave its chill on everything. A campfire fitfully sputtering next to him, he rolled up snug in his bedroll for an evening's rest.
10th of Hematite, Year 30
The next morning he crossed a couple frozen rivers heading westward in The East Steppes before setting foot in the vast frozen plain of The Cradled Circumstantial Blizzard. Within a matter of hours, he was climbing the steep northern slopes of The Tenebrous Crest towards the Pricedtraps settlement high above. Sitting on the slope admiring the view, a dwarf named Loric Deepson hailed him. Choosing to converse with this minor clanmember, Groo settled beside him, introducing himself.
Groo... your parents must have been interesting!
Ah, corrected Groo I am a Forii-made hero, summoned from the aether to assist my Clan.
Ah. Replied Loric. Interesting.
They contemplated at the view for a while in companionable silence before Groo stood up once more. Gifting his new freind with a steel axe he'd picked up at the base of the slope, Groo started once more up the slope.
Inside, he spoke with quite a few of the "Itsatrap!?" Clan before finding A Goodbrews in one of the newly excavated dormitories.
Greetings! I am Groo.
Greetings! I am Glazeconstruct of the Goodbrews Clan. Life is, in a word, mountains.
You are in grave danger, Glazeconstruct. The goblins of The Stirred Thief march upon The Tower even as we speak.
It was inevitable, Groo. Goblins were created to seperate the strong from the weak - the ore from the the stone. They must attack the Tower, and the Tower must defend itself. Fear not. The Mountains will provide.
I will do all that I am able to stop this menace. It has claimed the lives of so many already!
Ah, so you would seek to best our enemies and elevate our good name? Many years ago, Upnal Webtalked became the mayor of The Sunken Room. I hear she has a real mean streak. She may be able to help you on this quest.
Oh yes? And where would I find her now?
That I do not know. Perhaps my husband would know it.
You and your family are not safe here, come with me if you want to live!
Ummm. No, I don't think I will. There are good people here at Pricedtraps. We'll be fine here with them.
Then at least let me leave you with this coin minted at the Tower, as a token of my devotion to your Clan.
Oh, Thank you!
This is a Lelgasdumed 25 gold coin. On the front of the coin is a finely designed image of Vucar Rimroughness the dwarf. On the coin's back is a superiorly designed image of Morul Windseal the dwarf, surrounded by other dwarves. The artwork relates to his crowning as King of the Lush Fortification in Year 1
Is there any other of your Clan here?
Well, there's my husband, 'Father Goodbrews' Standsteels. He's one of the Seven called by the Forii to found our Clan you know! We married back in Year 26 and began our tour of the dwarven lands soon after. Two years we'd been travelling when our daughter Daggercreeds joined us. She's growing up to be a bright young thing and a credit to the Goodbrews name! The first Goodbrews to take our name into a second generation, I'm afraid. The Mountains willing, she'll be the key to our greatness once more. They both live here - they're around somewhere I'm sure.
Looking about, he noticed a few others who seemed willing to speak with him:
Wrathwell Orbsrubs: Life is, in a word, Volcanoes. Mind those elves, though - they're getting angry about the "abuse of plants" whatever that means.
Gearmighty Wordyirons: It is great to be surrounded by family! In 27, I married my husband, Kib Pathring.
Wrathwell Anvilattack: One must always carefully consider the correct choice of action. If you really want to get to be known, go find that titan and vanquish it!
In the end, they had much gossip but knew few actual facts.
He searched the entire rest of the place tunnels and rooms, speaking with many of the Itsatrap?! Clan, but encountering neither the Father Goodbrews nor his daughter. So, he deermined that he should go out into the brisk cold once more - perhaps he would find them nearby. No luck, however. The Goodbrews remained hidden to his searching eyes. This was both good and bad luck, for if he couldn't find them, enemies would have a similar misfortune, but he still wished he could have laid eyes on the Father and the dwarven maid to whom the remaining Clan pinned thier hopes of future glory. The first part of his mission was finished for now, so he set his mind on how best to demolish the armies of The Stirred Thief and to finding the terrible dwarf that had caused such wrack and ruin to his fair Tower. First though, he'd need to sleep a bit and begin his trek in the morning.
11th of Hematite, Year 30
It seems he'd visited Pricedtraps just as thier menagerie decided to escape. Unfortunately, they expected him to be their "farewell dinner." He had other ideas.
Five wolves... Check
Mirthsaffron the voracious cave crawler... Check (Groo felt that such a feat deserved a title, so he named himself "Crestrazors" in honor of the deed.)
One gelded yeti... Check
One Polar Bear... Check
One Wolverine Woman... Check
Groo had wandered the icy wilderness all day and into the night, heading to the north past icy mountains that dimly loomed to the east and west and across a flat expanse of a frozen sea with the murky movement of great creatures below in the ice pacing him as he strode along. Finally, he left that quiet, icy land and entered warmer climes once again. Falling to sleep next to a freshwater sea, his eyes turned northward still, Forii-drawn toward the unknown object of his quest: Revenge upon they who had so defiled The Tower half a world away.
12th of Hematite, Year 30
One Jaguar... Check
North by northwest he travelled, through plains, woods and deserts, until finally stumbling into the mounds of a hillock named Scorchinglabor, to beg a bit of burrow for the night. Gladly they offered it in return for a story or two and in return told him about the various gossip that such places always enjoyed. One bit of news made his ears perk up, however: "Several years ago, 'Saint' Shotmirrors became the mayor or The Fair Works."
SAINT
He smiled a grim smile as he drifted off to sleep - his targets had a name at last!
13th of Hematite, Year 30
Searching out the civic mound, Groo was directed to the local chief. A fellow by the name of Led Steellost. Seems this dwarf was the local baron's consort and could tell him more about The Fair Works, so Groo made it a point to seek him out. The fat fool knew nothing, however, so Groo left him playing in dirt of the drinking mound and continued northward. It was just south of the hillock of Fondledmines that Groo came across a sleeping encampment of goblin warriors.
"Whoo hoo hoo!" He chortled to himself, "Sleeping greenskins, what a treat!"
Soon the bloody work was done and Groo whistled happily as he stripped them of their goblinite. He could play "arms dealer" with the local lord and maybe buy the information he needed about The Saints. He'd done these dwarves such a favor, he thought he should add a bit to his title too. "The Constructive Day of Society" had a nice ring to it. So be it!
It seems this place had been conquered goblins already. The force to the south that he had so gleefully removed were the victorious warriors, but many more were ready to replace them from their home far to the north. "Join me in an insurrection" suggested He, "Nooooo we'd all be slain" was the response. Very well, he replied, but I claim this place in the name of The Windy Tower - though your own fellows may be dwindled, mine will come and free you!
"Saint Shotmirrors will save us!" Cried out one of them, but he was quickly shushed, for when Groo turned his eyes in interest, they all pretended not to have heard.
Who is this Saint Shotmirrors, he cried, for now would come the knowing... but none and no-one would tell him his need.
Fine! he shouted, I shall leave this goblinite here so that you may defend yourselves, but I shall go and have words with this Shotmirrors - the shame that this dwarf is so respected, yet so absent from the place of battle!
Farther north he headed north and west, until he came finally to Castle Fatherwork in The Dune of Myth. It was here that he finally found what he'd been seeking: the location of Saint Clanhome.
"Imagine how horrible it will be to find that it was thier own queen, Urdim Splatterpicks herself, that gave me this information!", chortled Groo quietly. "The irony is too cruel!"
"Go find Obok Tostolon, the Baroness of Fondledmines", quoth that worthy. "For rescuing her people, she will answer you any question. This I decree!"
Down into Fatherwork descended Groo, great and many were the treasures he found there, each gaurded by the jealous eyes of those who had stayed there
these three war-filled decades. Finally, in a vast hall filled with chests (surely each filled with golden treasures to delight the eyes and ears of any dwarf), he
found the one he sought and asked her where the Saint Clanhome might be.
"Hammercrown is in the Cooperative Horns..." she replied sweetly, "Far to the east of here. In the midwinter of 29, Metalcrafter Helmssaint added a
masterful covering in gold to an electrum amulet for The Fair Works at Hammercrown. It is a place of legends!"
Bowing deeply, he thanked the Lady for her information and was about to leave the way he'd come when he espied a markdwarf trying to catch his eye.
"Would you like to come with me on my quest to Far Hammercrown?", he asked the dwarf softly.
His eyes gleaming in avarice and glory, the marksdwarf replied with a resounding "Yes!"
Thus it was that Lorbam Workwanes of Castle Fatherwork joined Lord Groo Crestrazors, "The Constructive Day of Society" in his quest to find Hammercrown (and in secret, purge the world of its villainous Saints.)
14th of Hematite, Year 30
The journey East began once again, passing through Fondledmines in the early morning, Scorchinglabor that afternoon, (following the river to the nearest
bridge because Workwanes did not know the secret of swimming.) And, after crossing the river, continuing to the west until they were set upon by a pack of
dingoes in the Climactic Plain.
15th of Hematite, Year 30
East and further east journeyed the two adventurers, past the smoking Point of Law, thier eyes and hearts set on the distant Hammercrown. A pack of
wolves were dealt with on the slopes of that range as the two followed the river south through the Dimpled Hills, looking for a place to cross it.
Suddenly the skies opened up and a voice like a thousand volcanoes erupting at once streamed out, deafening the two companions:
I am the Alpha! Hear me mortals, and tremble, for your world has become my omelette!
With that, the world was cracked asunder: its oceans and fires, and beings of all races streamed shrieking into the bowl of the sky. The demonic yolks were
lightly frisked with a gleaming whisk of horrifying magnitude. Planetary bodies of ham, green onions and a truly ungodly amount of cheddar cheese appeared
also in the bowl of the sky, to be expertly blended by that terrible tool.
MMMMM..., spake Armok in his voice of a thousand volcanoes
What we need now is some orange juice. Where are my blood oranges?
Sorry guys, the file is too corrupted. I've re-played the game a few times and it keeps crashing on the 16th of Hematite. This files' corrupted beyond saving.
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Topic: Re: Bloodlines of the Forii (Phoebus 40.24) - Save file too corrupted - sry guys (Read 71895 times)