The inner thoughts of an Undying OverseerWinter 167The more I think on it, the more I come to the conclusion that the failure to resurrect our warriors is a blessing in disguise. It is clear to me that we have long been puppets of forces beyond our comprehension. Our necromantic experiments have been sponsored by these powers from the start. Why they targeted Smallhands, I cannot even begin to guess. The identities of the culprits, however, are obvious:
Daze, human god of thunder, lightning and death. No doubt disappointed that his chosen disciple never accomplished anything beyond a short-lived dictatorship.
The Wicked, goddess of murder, death and peace. Perhaps her necromancers have failed her as well, so she sought us to punish their arrogance.
And, of course…
Lorsith Weevilmessiah, the Regal God. God of thralldom, and patron of the demon lord. I am now convinced he is behind all of this. Who else could mastermind a plan to have us convert our population into ghoulish thralls? He’s made puppets of us all.
Olon and I, the original ghouls, both worshippers of Weevilmessiah. We were the first to demonstrate the power granted by the shackles of undeath. The endless harrying of the necromancers, who perhaps didn’t know the purpose of it themselves, set us on the path to slavery. The infernal fever, a curse from the demon, made us desperate. I took the first steps to turning the necromancers’ power to our side. I intended it to only be used in dire circumstances, but it was only a matter of time before someone gave in to temptation and began mass conversion of our dwarves into ghouls.
Because of me, over a quarter of our population is undead. To our manipulators, this is only the beginning. They want to unleash the full power of the slabs. Maybe they intend for Smallhands to unleash a plague of undeath upon the world. To lead an army of ghouls and enslave the living. I cannot allow that to happen, but I know I will not be able to protect the slabs forever. If someone were to walk into this chamber with intent to steal them, I could not lift a hand to stop them. However, I may have a way to seal them away yet. And perhaps also, to atone for my part in this horror.
For now, though, there is much work to be done.
14th OpalImic was relocating one of the imprisoned beak dogs when it got loose and mauled Malfoy.
Couldn’t have happened to a better dwarf. Still, better get the ghouls to put it down before it hurts someone who doesn’t deserve it.
6th ObsidianTime seems to grind to a halt as the mighty “central heating” pumps roar to life. Let their fires cleanse the battlefield!
BURN!
The keep is suffering some collateral damage. We’ll need to rebuild it with magma-proof materials if we’re going to continue using the central heating like this. It will be better when the Tall Bar is ready to act as a reservoir and we can do more targeted strikes.
19th ObsidianThat deals with most of the mess on the surface. All that’s left to me now is to ensure no one can misuse the slabs. I cannot bring myself to destroy them, if such godly artifacts even can be destroyed. I fear the effects that might have. And as loathe I am to admit it, the powers of necromancy have done us great good as well as evil.
I cannot guarantee the slabs will never fall into the hands of those who would misuse them, but I can make them much harder to get. I will seal my chamber with a flood of magma. The slabs themselves have been locked behind protective glass. Meanwhile, perhaps the sacrifice I have prepared will appease the gods of death, and they will leave us alone for a time. At the least, it will help deal with our cluttered cage stockpile.
As for myself, well, I have to answer for introducing this undead curse to Smallhands. If the slabs were truthful, I will not suffer long. I am cutting my strings, Lorsith!
20th ObsidianThe artifact floodgate I had chosen to seal the chamber has melted under the intense heat.
A pity, that means Ravenwind will be consumed as well. I have no use of it now, but I had hoped to preserve it out of sentimentality.
The sacrifices are dead, save two zombies, and yet I still live. Curious. Mercifully, my nerves were singed off very early on, and I no longer feel anything at all. Or maybe I am truly dead. It would be hard to tell at this point.
1st GraniteI am still here. Everything else as melted away, yet I persist.
I see now. My body has burned to ash, just as the slabs said. They do not lie, but they can withhold information. They never said I would die from this. Will I ever die? Perhaps that’s something not even the slabs, or the gods who created them, know. I am something new, something beyond their magics.
So, Weevilmessiah, it seems my servitude continues. But it is no longer service to you. No, I will guard these slabs. Not out of a sense of duty, nor out of sacrifice for the good of my fellow dwarves. There is only one thing that will fuel my will in this endless watch, and that is sheer, unrelenting spite. As the ages pass and this place is buried under the ruins of a hundred civilizations, I will be staring back at you with utmost hate.
And in this crystalline sarcophagus,
I AM ETERNAL.
SAVEThus concludes the saga of Nogood, at least for now.
I’ll post an explanation of what’s going on with him soon. Suffice to say, he’s quite unique.
The fort’s a bit of a mess right now, but it’ll survive. Everyone’s pretty happy. The only stressed dwarf was Murr2.
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Topic: Smallhands - nearly 40 years and still tiny! (Read 441837 times)