Journal of the Tavern Keeper Overseer 1st of Slate 175Before I could charge into the heart of evil, I decided to inspect the military and the rest of the fort. I did not anticipate it taking up a whole beer sodden month!
Why do we have a stockpile of goblins and traitors within spitting distance of a weapons stockpile and their beakdog cavalry?
Who decided that it was a good idea to give Zultanking no less than 4 offices?
Which numbskull thought it was an excellent idea to have goblins be the subject of a masterwork green glass statue?
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After strenuous bouts of drinking, cancelling unproductive manager orders, drinking, redesignating the tall bar's stockpiles to receive food and drink, drinking and assigning some new work orders for mining so the tall bar can pour magma I decided it was then time to look at the military
I knew it was bad in my squad but this beggared belief. I emptied the last two drinks of strawberry wine and threw the bottles at one of the goblin prisoners out of frustration
The siege breakers had some fort members that were too valuable to lose. I disbanded the Vile goo and the other squad, and rebuilt the overseers army with the best of the none siege breakers.
Equipment was a mess. We don't use wooden shields whichever elf lover did that. Wood is for beds and barrels. Not shields. Shields are made for crushing goblin skulls with the off hand and that means metal. However...there was one wooden shield that is an exception that proves the rule.
Quicknesshawk, the shield of Nogood the Undying. He who sacrificed everything to save smallhands from necromantic doom.
I ended up taking only the Overseer's army with me. my hand picked soldiers with the best equipment. Full steel, weapons of choice, masterworks where we could. I tucked Auze's Overseer notes into my pocket and waited for everyone to get ready. They should help us determine what we're fighting
My right hand held an artifact steel axe, emblazoned with the undead kangaroo that slaughtered our people in the early days of smallhands till it was crushed under a drawbridge. The left, quicknesshawk.
With booze in my bag and beards held high, it was time to strike back against a god.
Journal of the Tavern Keeper Overseer 5th of Slate 175The further north we went, the more desolate the land became. It didn't take long for us to spot it. An obsidean spike piercing the heavens, its aura warping the sky and the land around us with dark goo clouds and ominous fog. I daren't even speculate what that eerie blue lightning was I saw up there. Despite it being a clear day, the darkness was all around.
Wardpuppets is no place for the living.
I was intending to drink after we had won. Sensing the evil of that place though, I advised everybody to drink up as we were likely to need our strength ahead.
Whoever built this spire had placed a lot of defences within no doubt, Auze's notes indicated angry angelic fighters with eerie equipment
Most people would be at a loss on how to enter without meeting an ambush given it was on a steep hill with no cover.
Fortunately, I had one of the squad had bring a pickaxe and thus did our we take turns hacking at the rock. We dug straight through the outer walls and collapsed a floor, then swept in during the confusion and slew 10 of these...things. These thralls, no they go beyond that...minions of thalldom were no match for the element of surprise.
The next floor had one of these so called angels. It yelled out and pointed its weapon at me in its gibberish. I don't know what it was saying but I do know it was a stupid move as we were all in the middle of a martial trance and promptly cut it down.
As it lay dying I sent the others on ahead to finish the job after my combat trance came down. Stint came back with the slab later
The enslaved messenger gurgled and rose up in a purple light. Then in that horrible tongue, it growled at me. Only a god could do such a thing and there was only one god with a grudge currently.
M̸͈͐ő̷̬̞̍r̸̛̖̂ͅṱ̷̆a̷̛͈̹̎l̷͓̈"Weevil"
̵̩̆Y̴̧̛͊o̷̧̅͜u̵̗͆r̴͓̺̓̇ ̸̹̬̍́s̷̼͙͋ų̶̤͘p̷̦̮͐p̶̖̏ỏ̷̦͓s̶͔̦͌ȩ̷̲̓̈d̴̜̫̽̕ ̷̝͓̑v̵̛͈̎i̷̞̊ć̶̠̝t̵͎̊̒o̵̩͈̓r̴͓͍̂y̶̥̑̀ ̵̼̚m̸̟̈͘ĕ̷̟ŕ̶̘̇ḛ̵̢̈l̴̦̪̑́ẏ̴̼͝ ̵̝͝͝d̴͆͜ḙ̴̅l̵̳̈̄à̷̲͕͠y̶̩̤̐̏s̴͕̏ ̶͍̍t̸̳͚̀͘h̸̯͒͝e̶̺͕͐̓ ̴͓̃̇i̷̳̟̚n̵̤̚̕e̶̤̰̐͛v̸̧̟̔̈ì̵̫͈t̴̾͐ͅǎ̸̘̌b̸̪͐l̵̰̮̔̒ḙ̵͋,̸̣̺̇ ̶̪́ȧ̵̘̫̌n̶͈͒̋d̸̮̂ ̸͐͋͜d̵͖̭̈̍r̶̩͆͊͜ä̸̠g̷͎̊͘ŝ̴̤͓̕ ̵͕̔t̸̤̏ͅh̸̺͉͋͠ȇ̴̝̹ ̷̨̇̚w̴̜̥̃̍o̴̜̺͂ȓ̸̹͝ṭ̶͗h̸͍̱͊͐y̶̬̹͌͝ ̸̞͒̽f̷̪̌͐ů̷̗r̶̭̩͂͌t̸͓̑̂h̷͕͌̽e̵͍̚r̸̝̄̽ ̶̮͇̎̅t̴̡͖̒͑o̷̡̰͋ ̶͔̈́͠t̵̢̪͐h̷̛̭̙ė̵̪͘i̴̪̞͌͑r̵͍͚̊̕ ̵̥̔d̶͍͋o̵̬̫͑́ò̵̡̒m̶͓̼̓̇.̴͉̑̈́"Controlling everything between life and death is not inevitable Weevilmessiah, but a mere dream."
̷̳͖͛A̴̛̝͝ͅ ̶͍̘̌̿d̷̖͛r̶͕͚̓ẻ̶̲̂a̴̱̎ḿ̴͚͕̏ ̸͕́̓t̵̘̐h̵̰̃͗ā̶̱͆ͅţ̸̪̊̂ ̵͍̿̉ȳ̸̟͂ó̵̦͓ù̴͓̚ ̵̭̩͌̀f̶͎͍̋́ő̸͕̮̾o̶̟̱̽́l̶̗̈́i̶̡̝̿̆s̵̡̏́h̸͖͚̉͊l̵̛̺̆y̸̻̾̈ ̴̪͌͋d̶̻̒e̷̖͂s̸̛̮͜i̵͇̔̿r̶̪̆ĕ̶̟̈ ̸̢͐͊t̶̛͓̔ỏ̴͜͝ ̴̰̃͝f̴͙̠̓̋ű̸͉͛l̴̞̼̈́͘f̸͍̊ȉ̴̩͋ĺ̷̼̣l̷̦̤̀̓ ̵͍͂͘i̸̗̓n̵̖̥͛s̶̹̪͑t̷͍̱̏ẽ̴͙͎͌a̸͇̕ḓ̵̭̓ ̴̹̙̑͠ŏ̴̥̥f̵̖̈́ ̷̦̐̏m̶̧̐̄e̶̩̒.̴̘̾ ̴̭̈́I̷̢̹̅t̷̘̠͆ ̵̛̥͛ȋ̴̒͜s̴̞͂̚ ̷̲̈̅w̷͓̝͑ḣ̶͙̙̓y̵̫̥̾̓ ̸͉̫͊y̸͉͔̋̋õ̴̺̥̊u̴̢̟͂ ̸̡̈̕s̴̗̫͌͘o̵͎̐u̸̥͋̓͜g̵̨̛̜͊h̸͓̪͛t̵̫̓ ̵̡̠͝ṱ̴̨̀ḧ̵̠́è̶̯̪̐ ̴̝̜̋͘s̴͍̭̈́̔l̵̥̖̽̎a̵̛͕̪̅b̸͎̾.̴̛̲̻"I seek to lead an age of dwarves, not a playground full of thralls. I will take this slab and incinerate it in a fiery abyss tonight."
̵̤͂̀T̷̖̊͐h̸̹̉e̷͕͂ṋ̶̿͠ ̶͖̍̚Ĭ̷̲ ̵̱͂́s̵̙̃́h̷̹̓͒à̴̺͜͝l̴̦̦̕l̵͈͛̕͜ ̸̩̦̎͘p̶̱͚͒͗e̶̮͝r̴̛̘s̵̤̜̓o̴̯̅n̷̝̪̉̐ả̸̼͔̊l̴̺̮̄l̵̛̜̔ỵ̸̧͒͆ ̵̦̙̂d̴̪̯̋a̷̧̻̽m̴͉̐̃n̴̺̍̇ ̵̝͆̄y̴̻̑o̵̠̓͆u̸̼̟͒ ̶͙̓̕t̴̢̼͐͝o̴͙̘̐̎ ̴̡̈ͅè̵͍̈́v̴̖͘͝ȩ̵̖̏̓ŗ̵͕̎ḻ̷̺̽ȃ̶̯s̶̭̓̌t̸̥̒̑i̸̟̬̎ṉ̷͎̾̌ġ̴̟͖͠ ̴̦̿̅t̶̙͈͆o̵͇̘̒̃r̸͈͍͌m̴̠̝̎e̴̖͖͑̆n̶̼͋t̷̖̏͂!̸͙̀̆The fallen messenger lunged at me limbs outstretched. A swift uppercut with Quicknesshawk sent it collapsing to the ground in a pool of ichor.
"You had your chance to do so, and you failed. Your threat is as empty as your puppets. An age of dwarves is coming Weevil, and you won't be part of it.
The rest of the squad had arrived. I counted heads then started marching back to Smallhands. Pausing only to stomp on the messenger's head and mangle it for good.
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Topic: Smallhands - nearly 40 years and still tiny! (Read 441161 times)