OOC: Well, after a considerable amount of pain, I got an adventurer rolled up and outfitted. So, let's tell Id's story. As a reminder, this takes place in the distant future, probably 20-30 years after the potential end of Clobbermountains. When Id visits a site, she sometimes has dreams or visions of what happened there, pulled from L mode. I'm going to wander the world until just before my turn, and then send Id into Clobbermountains, hopefully badass enough to fight her way into the fort. Let us begin ...Journal of Id Matulcog: Entry 1
===Looking back, Deathgate wasn't exactly vacation capital of the world. I mean, who would want to see a bifurcated deer, a duck who fights demons, the catacombs of an almost extinct species or take a very literal scenic tour through hell. It did however have one thing going for it:
IT WASN'T FUCKING COLD OUT!
Frell, ever since I started this journey, I've been two steps short of an Idicle. I nearly froze my Urists off leaving Deathgate too all those years ago.
Alright Id, deep breath. You're a big girl. It's not like you haven't died before, or am in the middle of nowhere or ...
Oh, who the fuck am I kidding. It's the same fracking story, again and again. I don't even know why I bother to write it down. I suppose some tiny iota of empathy that hasn't been stamped out hopes that someone will find one of my journals and learn
NOT TO FUCK WITH HELL.Trust me, nothing good comes of it. I'm "living" proof of that. See, let me explain. A long time ago, in a place very far away, there was a fortress called Deathgate. If you never heard of it, well, it was the kind of place you tell little children about to scare them into doing their homework or that sort of shit. The thing is, its no myth or legend. I was there. I dunno how it got started, but a madness infected our overseers, so we dug straight down, and broke straight in.
Now, normally, this is where you'd expect a mob of demons to utterly and totally wreck us. Expect that didn't happen. We won, and we got our just rewards for it.
Even when I was a little girl, the Basement of Murder (our group) was never very numerous, and through a slow battle of attrition, our numbers wore away until only a few handful of dwarfs were left in that world. Eventually, we realized we were doomed and that's when the madness truly took hold.
Under our founder, the dwarves of Deathgate decided that if they were going to be damned, well, we're going to take everyone with us. I wish I could say I had the courage to say I stepped up, but I can't. I was too afraid and too weak to do what had to be done. Instead, I left that awful place and fled into the world.
It's hard to remember now, but I think I tried to convince a group of humans to flee with me, after battling their leader (one hell of a nasty llama demon). I don't remember if I succeeded or not, but I suppose it doesn't matter. What does matter is I left, but ...
Well, as the old saying goes, you can leave Deathgate, but Deathgate never leaves you.
I don't know what happened to those who I left behind, but I know what happened to me. See, if our myths are to be believed, when you die, if you've been a good dwarf, your soul is supposed to go up to the Hall of the Stonemaker. If not, well, you go to Hell. That's fairly simple. The thing is, I already been to hell, and I guess that leaves me in this odd limbo.
After I left Deathgate, I fled as far as I could get. I cross oceans and valleys, and saw things you won't believe. I also got into fights. I didn't always win. The thing is though, I don't stay dead. No matter what happens to me, I've always gotten up again. Not always in the same place, but there have always been constants.
I remember everything from Deathgate with near perfect clarity. I can always remember my old training as a marine, remember how to swim, how to shoot, and how to fight. I sometimes remember other things.
I usually (but not always) tend to usually wake up with a bow and some armor. However, I always wake up with the adamantine spear I left with all years ago. Perhaps the damn thing is as cursed as I am.
At least this time I am decently equipped. I'm never going to live down the time I woke up with only a thong and spear.
I suppose I should get to the point of this already. See, over time, I began to have ... well, I suppose you can call them urges. Places and things would appear in my mind that I need to go find. I don't know why. All I've ever found are monsters and death, with just one thing in common.
They've all been places where Hell has been breached or at the very least adamantine has been mined. And everytime I go there, I see the fort as it was before it fell. I still can remember one place, Swordthunders, where the dwarfs wanted to play games with Hell. Hell played back. They lost.
It's all kind of pointless really; I get to watch people who died years, sometimes centuries before I got there and there's nothing I can do about. My own personal Hell ...
I fucking crack myself up.
But the damn thing about it is that maybe someday I'll get there before shit hits the fan. Warn them they're about to commit a colossal fuckup. Or some overseer finds a copy of my journal, and wises up.
Wishful thinking, I know, but ... well ... if you can't die, you got to live for something.
Might as well get this show on the road.
I think I have a long way to go ...