Save file:
http://dffd.bay12games.com/file.php?id=15029Ending date: Year 706, Mid-Autumn
My hero did not get to the Museum, so no-one would know his story, or the stories of his companions. That is, unless they were able to tell thier tales post-mortem... For a new wing of the Museum, I propose:
The Library of Whispers
(The reanimation of the skulls will be assumed for narrative purposes,
so we don't have undead heads flopping all over the place)
The skull of Quenir Puzzelarm the Abyssal whispers its tale:
I emerged from my slime cocoon as a Hand of Planegifts in the year 488 after enduring horrific experiments that resulted in the expiration of my former life almost one and a half centuries before. Was I a volunteer or hapless victim? I know neither even now in death. I prefer to think that I volunteered to become an unaging guardian for the Master, but the results are neither attractive nor compassionate, so I may have been just a villager in the wrong place at the right time. I was supposed to be a guardian of the Master's secret laboratory to the north of the hamlet of Planegifts. Alas, when I explored into the Master's Quarters, I found that he and his students had all been slain then reanimated themselves by the necromancer Oddom. I wandered down to the hamlet to find it all but deserted and instead became an advisor to one of their kind, needing to protect a wise and great man, even if they were wise and great only in relation to the turnips and berries they grew. She thought me at first to be a demon from the Realms Below, and when I made my pact with her, she began calling me "her demon". Generation upon generation did I protect and advise the "wise" of Planegifts until one day I followed one right out of the village and into the outer world. We traveled for some time and I picked up no small skill in blade-craft with a pike. Finally, we stopped for a time in another small village which my current charge claimed as his birthright and he it's Lord Administrator.
I of course, became known as the "Puzzle-arm" for my skill with the pike-blade was more than stab stab chop chop, but flowed in intricate and deadly patterns that were described as both beautiful and terrible. The Lord Administrator challenged any who had the gift to match his ancestral demon guardian in blade-play. Though a few tried, no-one could best me. It was a bloodless way to show all who challenged him that they would have to get through me first. That Lord Administrator was both wise and crafty.
In time, my charge grew old and died as so many of his kind had and I began guarding his firstborn progeny and theirs' also as I had done for three hundred years already. However, a warrior named Ast came calling and at last I'd found a great man to protect and serve! With the permission of my ancestral charge, I bound myself to this great Warrior, ready to find Fame and Death. (Fame and Death - such is the life of heroes, though the death is often times visited on many others before it finds the hero.) Eventually my death found me after so so long. I welcomed her embrace and brought many others to her as well - battle companions all.
The skull of Ashro Scufflegrowls the Slick Bends of Ivy whispers its tale:
5th of Timber, 706:
What did I look like before my death? Long Straight chestnut hair, an extremely long nose, Gold eyes with large irises, High eyebrows, Tall head, Slightly thick lips, Short eyelashes, somewhat short ears and pink skin. I lived in the human fortress of StealMountain until one day I dreamt of a place where great treasures were kept. Something called "The Museum". I had only the image of a pumpkin split in half by a dwarven crossbowman to guide me, but since none in this fortress knew what that meant, I set out into the great wide world to ask the Gods for further inspiration.
Pets: Hunting dog "Cinnabar" and boar "Gagu"
I begin entreating the Gods for a sign at the Shrine of the Pulpy Creed - I cast the holy 12 sided dice and Ala gave me a week of bad luck. Not a good beginning. I felt the correct way was North, so of course I headed South. Bad luck be damned.
Outside a shrine, a scaly humanoid with wings attacked my pig Gagu. I shot several arrows into it until it finally died. It's last breath was used to whisper, "Sucktunnel"
Perhaps that was its name.
Traveling through a small village, I came upon a human administrator and his three goblin "clerks". They spoke to me of the Black Demon of The Most Sin's search for an artifact bismuth bronze crossbow named "The Contained Magician". Last it had heard, it was held by a necromancer named Oddom. Of course, the silly green clerk had no idea where Oddom might be. I pressed it further for other news, but it was useless for directions.
The administrator named Alu Strappant had her daughter playing in the basement. Young Lucy matter of factually described how a goblin had devoured her aunt a little over ten years ago. The Most Sin has made the slaying and eating of one's enemies a daily part of these Human's lives.
I caught up with an army of mixed goblins and elves in the hamlet of Gladnesswisdom. Hundreds of them were encamped here with weapons close at hand. My traveling companion, Quenir the Abyssal, a Hand (of Planesgifts) Pike-gaurd from the Administrator's place, charged full in, dodging arrows and laying waste to many of them, his dark wings buffeting the air fearsomely. It was a terrifying sight to behold! I did my best by firing my bronze arrows into their midst, but many were blocked or dodged, and when the whole group routed and fled, dropping their wooden weapons in fear, I'm unsure I had even one of their deaths upon my reputation. We never had time to listen to their chatter and find out from whence they came and in what direction they traveled, but Gladnesswisdom was deserted and many of the huts had come to some mischief, so there were none to tell the tale of this army.
Town of Orbsnarled:
6th of Timber 706
The entire town has been abandoned except for some reptile-people living in the sewers. Where did everyone go? I go to The Bronze Castle to see if anyone is hiding there. Broken walls and empty door frames greet me from within the wall as well, which doesn't bode well. Two sets of bounding walls before I gain entrance to the central Keep, where I find a Human abbot named Donas and the Elven Sacred Itch who introduced themselves as "Mawada". Domas directs me to contact a necromancer in the catacombs about the return of an Artifact figurine of some Power. The elf, however, has a direct request: That a family heirloom, a steel spear kept by an ettin in the Tenacity of Saffron, be returned to her. That sounds like a much more interesting quest! It's lair "Growlspar, the Grasping Silt" is in The Perfect Horns.
We wander upstairs and locked behind a door is a child. A goblin thrall child. Wearing a big grin and chomping its teeth excitedly, it jumped for my throat. I managed to get away in time, but it chased me around the room until trusty Quentir put it out of our misery with a well timed slash of his pike. What were they doing with this... thing up here?
What followed was a mish-mash of traveling around looking for trouble until it found me. I waded into a general brawl in the fortress of Elderssins and even as the other brawlers buried thier weapons into eachother, so did I into them. It was going OK until an elven lasher with a silver whip outclassed me and removed both my shield then weapon. I had a book and a mangled skull of a high priest of Ala to eventually donate to the Museum, plus a bunch of coins from various cultures. They'll all be waiting here for another to fetch, I suppose.
Author
Topic: Museum III, adventure succession game (DF 0.47.05) (Read 473421 times)