How right you are. On with the journey.
Out of curiosity I backed up the save and went down into the fortress. There wasn't much there, and everyone was dead except the champion, who wouldn't join me. And I got a broken hand. I took screenshots though; maybe I'll put it up later just for fun.
Observing the horrible sight at the trade depot, I doubt that anyone could have survived down in the fortress, if there are any more undead. Furthermore, I cannot risk Ado in those depths: he may be a weak and unprincipled coward, but he is my companion, and I've lost one already. We must take the long way around the mountains.
I hesitate when I check the map. Unless we swing wide to the south, the way around the mountain takes us dangerously close to the dark tower of Windcanyon. These zombies almost certainly came from there, sent by the foul necromancers. We ought to stay well away from that accursed place; we will make the arduous trek across the mountains.
We go around the fortress and onto the road that, inexplicably, climbs the sheer cliff above the fortress. It peters out not far off. Why build it in the first place?
Picking our way across a landscape of black boulders and gravel, we head northwest towards Brushglazes. Hopefully the same fate has not befallen it.
As if to signal our departure from the haunted fortress, a green sward of mountain avens and hair grass stretched before us.
Ok Ado, I get it. When we've finished off Spearclaws we'll see about rescuing your daughter.
After about a mile night begins to fall. We camp in the middle of a wide, low field between the mountains - a very exposed position, but hopefully nothing will bother us this deep into the mountains. I hope zombies can't track. Ado takes first watch.
At dawn we start out over the rough, rocky ground. Ado needlessly kills another kea, wasting several arrows.
He only stops shooting keas after he runs out of arrows. At least he's training his skills. I pick up 24 perfectly good arrows from the ground and give them back to him in exchange for his coin purse.
Coming down off a slope, I refill my waterskins at a brook and take a short rest.
To the north looms the great volcano, the Profane Furnace. It is said to be the home of Doto the Tin Flames, the god I worship.
Since we are so close, I decide to make this an impromptu pilgrimage: I shall petition Doto for good fortune in the coming trial.
The way up is a steep scramble over dense grass and patches of rock. Ado continues to shoot keas: I'm not giving his arrows back this time.
I climb to a high ledge and gaze down into the caldera: waves of heat rush up towards me, causing me to sweat even in the cool weather of early spring. Far below a writhing black surface streaked with bright orange churns and sizzles. It is a beautiful sight, indeed; a worthy home the god of creation, where one can see the primal forces boiling up from deep within the earth. I make use of Ado's senseless killings and throw three kea corpses into the flames as an offering to Doto. I also offer a prayer for the dwarves of Headlabor, that they be accepted again into this ancient flow of creation and renewed.
A little after noon we descend another sheer wall into the Jungles of Cremation. We have passed over the mountains; the fortress isn't far now.
A short trek through the bamboo underbrush and thick-growing fruit trees brings us to the fortress gates. Inside are dwarves, living dwarves: I rush to meet them.
After the horror of Headlabor it sets my soul at ease to find these dwarves alive, going about their ordinary lives.
The stockpiles are full of fine dwarven craftsmanship, and the smell of delicious dwarven cuisine wafts from the kitchens. Furniture crafted from rare minerals and cavern wood catches my eye: I may buy some for my mead hall, which is rather spartan at the moment.
In a statue garden I find a macewoman, wearing a helmet that bears the lychee tree crest of the Combined Union, my home country. She tells me her name is Asseg Oceanriddles.
I ask how she came to be a guard in a dwarven fortress: she declined to answer, saying only that she was a mercenary. However, when I told her of my quest, to raise an army to slay Spearclaws and restore peace to the Combined Unions, a flash passed across her face - a flash of anger, and perhaps hope. Then she asked if I was looking for recruits right now.
We, now three, will rest awhile in the comfort of Brushglazes and the company of dwarves. Then - I have a roc to kill.
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Topic: The Trials of Lord Oqui (Read 5618 times)