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[Quantum Drop]

Falsetower the Citadel of Worlds, XX Moonstone 879

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

It was a grey, wet morning when the travellers reached their destination the next day. Thrusting above the treeline and rising from the low morning light was a squat tower of weathered granite, its half-open top staring blindly into the gloomy, clouded skies above. A few animals chittered in the undergrowth as the three men emerged out of the underbrush and crept their way up the rain-sodden hillside, toward the yawning cavity that led to the inside of the tower.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Within, the tower seemed almost abandoned. A thick layer of dust covered the rough blocks of the granite floor, broke by patches of slick rock where rainfall had wiped away the residue. Rusting, well-weathered bronze and iron arrowheads and a few shreds of mouldering wood or cloth lay in a broad, disorganised pile a few steps from the entrance. Yet what immediately drew the eye were the tower’s twin sentinels: standing in silent vigil over the room were two masterfully-carved granite statues of a towering, brutal figure, many armed and scorpion-tailed, surrounded by the figures of humans bowed in homage to the giant at their centre. Its face had been partially eroded by time, but Aril could still make out the curvature of an open, fanged mouth, and see that the statue’s weathered arms still clutched the forms of weapons, shields, and books in their stone fingers. 

“I have heard of this one before,” Aril commented, leaning in closer to the statue with an expression somewhere between curiosity and remembrance. “A many-armed warrior, who slew armies with words alone. And this –”

He jabbed a finger toward something nestled within the heavy granite arms of the statue, wedged into the space between two of the scorpion man’s limbs. Aril climbed up and leaned forward, carefully threading his arm between the jutting iron blade held in one of the statue’s many hands and the heavy stone book clutched in another; within a few minutes of struggle and muffled curses, he had freed the volume from the statue’s grasp, and scrambled back down to stand beside Arkur with the strange tome in hand. He all but tore open the volume, eyes scanning across the content of the pages with surprising speed, before abruptly slamming the cover closed once again and secreting it away into his pack without a second word.

“Perfection,” He murmured, voice suddenly hushed and hoarse. He wordlessly bowed to the towering statue of granite and moved back toward the tower’s entrance at speed, darting out through the great archway with a sharp motion for Arkur to follow him. There was an odd vitality to him, an energetic manner to his movements that had not been there before; Arkur could not help but note that it seemed quite at odds with his previously fatigued manner, though he contented himself with shaking his head and writing it off as a mere spirt of excitement, a temporary revitalization driven by whatever secrets the book happened to contain.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The fortress itself was, as was the dwarves’ way, cut deep into the flesh of the nearby hill, rather than situated mostly on the lush surface. The square, squat tunnel that led deeper into the fortress was unguarded, neither a bridge nor sentries in sight - no dwarves emerged to greet or challenge them as the three men stalked across the wet grass and into the yawning mouth of the tunnel. The inside was mostly clay and soil, rather than hard stone; the ground squelched unpleasantly with each step, sodden from the seeping of recent rainfall and the spreading pool of brackish water seeping from an alcove cut into the clay. Water dripped from the roof of the tunnel and trailed down the group’s backs as they set toward the solid-looking flight of stairs leading deeper into the hill-fortress’ form.

Their walk was almost painful in its silence. The halls were quiet enough for Arkur to hear his own heart beating in his chest, even with the constant, rhythmic clunk of metal boots against hard-packed dirt and stony ground. Nothing living stirred in the stone arteries of the fortress, yet life was quite clearly present: the torches mounted in the brackets were alight and the patina of dust that covered the floor was broken in many places by the tread of  boots, forming tracks of movement to and from the great halls and vast, empty rooms that seemed to comprise the great bulk of the fortress. Many of these they dared search, but all but a few were the same: smooth, bare stone, elegantly engraved walls, and a scattering of half-rotten clothes or worn, abandoned armour.

“Such a fortress, yet without a soul in sight,” Arkur mumbled to himself, unable to restraint a sense of faint awe at the sights around him. Dimly-recalled history books had spoken of the race’s once-mighty past and their grand feats of architecture, and gossiping traders had swapped tales of the great dwarven constructions they had witnessed on their travels, but to see the vastness of a true dwarven fortress in person was quite different to what they had claimed. “Where…?”

Aril shrugged his shoulders in reply, raising a boot to stamp twice on the flags of the corridor. “Down here, perhaps – beneath the soil from which they came.”

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

“Wait.” Aril suddenly hissed, hand going tight on his brother’s shoulder. He cocked his head to the side, then jerked his head back sharply toward the doorway of one of the rooms. “Back this way – quickly!”

No sooner than the three had retreated into the empty room, there came a low, heavy creaking sound, echoing up from one of the shafts at the end of the corridor. Something crashed to the ground, followed by the sound of heavy steps against the smoothed stone. A dwarf clad in a tattered robe emerged from the shadows of the stairwell, limping up the moss-speckled stairs with a purposeful gait. In the low light their features were difficult to make out, and the dusty, stained cloth shrouding their form obscured their nature further, but there was no mistaking the unnatural angle of their neck nor the ominously glowing lights of their eyes, casting eerie shadows across the smoothed stone of the walls. They did not seem to register the trio’s presence, or perhaps merely did not care, lumbering past the doorway to the hollow room in which they sheltered and disappearing deeper into the fortress, leaving the scent of mildew and soil in their wake.

Arkur looked toward Aril with a scare, but his brother was staring after the creature’s retreating back as though entranced, one hand resting upon the leather-wrapped shaft of his axe in a white-knuckled grip. Arkur let his own hand drop to his sword, fingering the battered handle warily. The creature swiftly turned the corner and vanished into the shadows once again, prompting a low hiss of breath to escape between Aril’s teeth as he rose from his half-crouch and began to make his way toward one of the other corridors.

“Follow me, you two.” He ordered, voice sharp. “I don’t want to deal with those damned things.”

On and on they went, more cautiously now. The torches grew fewer the deeper they went, wreathing the tunnels in a deep gloom that stank of moss and ancient earth that was broken only by the occasional weakly-burning brazier or bracket. Cold, creeping fingers of instinctual fear traced their way down his spine, and dark memories threatened to claw their way to the surface of his mind. Arkur fought to control his breathing and the rising tremor in his limbs; deep, slow breaths hissed between his clenched teeth as he struggled to put one foot in front of the other. Every shadow seemed to hide a potential enemy; every lightless doorway and room seethed with the vague, insubstantial presence of blister-fleshed fiends, leering at him from within the dark.

Aril did not seem to notice his stilted, tense gait or the strain in every motion his brother made, marching ahead of Citoj and Arkur with a strong, purposeful stride. He was muttering under his breath as he walked, tracing a path across the cracked stone of the walls with his free hand. At last and quite without warning, he stopped in his tracks, nearly toppling Arkur as he struggled to adjust to the sudden lack of forward movement. Before his friend could open his mouth to protest, Aril raised a hand and rapped his knuckles against a section of stone wall, features splitting into a grin at the answering report.

“Here, Citoj,” He began, but the masked giant was already in motion. His massive, gloved hands found the tiny crack in the wall Aril had indicated with ease, fingers digging deeply into the fissure and shifting about to widen the split in the stone. A low, hissing growl arose from behind his mask as Citoj strained against the heavy rock formation, muscles visibly trembling with the exertion of forcing the stones to move; quite suddenly the granite gave way entirely, rolling to the side with a bass groan of shifting rock and sending Citoj stumbling into the room beyond. It was a hidden door, leading to what appeared to be some kind of shrine.

Aril strode into the room without a second word. It was illuminated by fresh torches, breaking the gloom of the corridors to reveal walls covered in elaborate engravings and a squat stone altar in the centre of the room. A grin spread across his face; he turned to face Arkur with an odd, fierce light in his eyes. “This is the place, my friend.” Aril carefully laid out his pack upon the altar and began to remove some of its contents – a small phial of pungent ether, a few tiny red stones, a neatly-folded package of cloth – all of which he laid out as though preparing for some strange experiment. “Please, watch the door and ensure no-one interrupts us.”

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

As his master continued with his preparations, Arkur turned his gaze to the detailed carvings upon the walls. A dwarf raising a pick to strike the raised flank of a mountain. A dozen stunted figures kneeling around another, this one raising a hammer. It was the third that caught his attention: a one-armed dwarf standing alone against an empty background, their body withered and ancient as a years-old corpse. A wooden crown hung from the dwarf’s skull-like visage, carved to appear veined with necrotic veins of wood-rot and seeming halfway to falling entirely. Beneath it, some crude vandal had roughly hacked words into the smooth stone, the raised capitals spelling out a strange message: GATAL ETAR UD NANOTH SHITHATH – ZILIR IKUD UD NANOTH LUNRUD.

The words jolted something loose in his head, dredging memories up from some distant corner of his mind - rumbling wagons moving in a long, unbroken chain across the frost-skinned ground, toward the distant form of a great stone tower; a herbal, earthy scent all around him as he worked feverishly beside a sallow, scar-faced dwarf at a glass-strewn bench.

They felt like the memories of a wholly different life, and recalling them sent a sharp spike of pain lancing through the back of his head. Arkur groaned, one hand fishing about in his pack for the medicine he’d been given earlier. It took a few moments before he could withdraw the phial of clear liquid, shaking it for a moment as his friend has instructed him; the moment he was done, the gaunt man wasted no time in uncorking and upending the vial into his mouth. A few seconds passed before Arkur straightened up and shook his head slightly, grimacing at the foul taste of the concoction even as the pain throbbing in the back of his head faded away.

Aril chuckled slightly at his protégé’s expression. The medicine burned like magma and tasted fouler than dwarven bread, but few mixtures did its job better. “Remember, you need to keep taking these, my friend. It’ll help keep your head together.”

Without waiting for a reply, Aril turned back to the task at hand. He crushed a set of small red stones to powder with a quick clench of his hand, letting the dust fall between his fingers to mix with the pale ether in the phial; small fumes of vapour arose from the liquid as the power dissolved, drifting idly in the air. Aril grinned, carefully shaking the phial in his hand to ensure the content was properly mixed, before raising its curved edge to his pallid lips. “I apologise. This may seem a little… strange.”

Before Arkur could take another step, Aril downed the crimson phial in a single gulp. Immediately, his friend was bent double by a violent coughing fit. His fingers locked around the shrine-table’s edge, eyes wide and unseeing, breath coming in strained gasps. His limbs shook violently, trembling like reeds caught in a storm. Then as suddenly as they had begun, the convulsive movements ceased: he stood tall and straight, though his eyes were still bulging and distant. When he spoke, his teeth were stained vivid red.

“Master?” He rasped. “It is done. The Usurpation is one less – the traitor is ended. And our old comrade is returned.” He paused, listening. Arkur cocked his head to the side, indulging his personal curiosity, but he heard nothing beyond the creak of Citoj’s heavy leather and the rapid, shallow breaths of his friend, hissing between his teeth with surprising force. Even so, Aril’s mouth broadened into a smile. “Yes. Yes. I see, sire. Will there -? Of course. I’ll ensure it is done. I’ll-”

Aril’s trance seemed to fade as soon as it had come. Something red and viscous dripped from the corner of his mouth, falling to stain the stone of the altar. He blinked for a moment, then laughed, tongue cleaning the red from his teeth as he looked toward Arkur. “Boatu, ub, toadiyc. My master is guided by these principles. And should all go as we plan, you will be among the first to receive them. Follow me, both of you – I know where we must now go.”

OOC: A few of the screenshots had to be re-taken thanks to my short-sightedness and a minor case of data loss (long story); had to split this into two posts because I tend to be a bit long-winded when writing which caused me to hit the character limit (as a trivial side note, the DF languages in the post should be accurate). Not sure when the next bit is coming out, but I’ll try not to take weeks this time.

[Eric Blank]

I've moved into my new house, I'd like to have another go!

[AvolitionBrit]

Loving the story Quantum, really interested to see where it's going and nice to see where my fortress see through a story lense.

The artwork of Bralbaard was nice to see, made that image to as one of my early turn plans was to try and get crumblepink this ancient symbol of a diplomat of the walled dye. Of course it's lost somewhere. I recalled a plan to give it to Bralbaard as he was a diplomat of sorts. But he was in a rotten state when he turned up to my fortress. So why not this idea of the crown rotting and decaying the once great diplomat. Shame his coffin vanished now all we have is his ear. An arm somewhere and a few teeth.

Will be interesting to see if you encounter Roku or one of those necromancers pottering around.

Also noticed Lurker is still on turn order when he asked to be removed for the time being

[Bralbaard]

Ok, we'll skip MrWillsauce. There's been no response. That makes it Bluarianknight's turn.
I also seem to remember that Lurker asked to be removed from the list at some point but I'll try to confirm by PM.
I've also added Eric to the list.

Great work on all the additions to the different storylines over the last weeks everyone! I'll update the relevant forum topics later, I'm away from my computer for the next two weeks and editing long posts on mobile is a pain. 

[BluarianKnight]

I'll begin tomorrow!

[Lurker Z]

I was actually lurking when I was my name mentioned, didn't think to reply. Sorry to say I haven't read the stories so far.

Yes, I'm very busy right now, I feel it was a good choice that I wanted to retire for a while. I was surprised to find it was relatively close to what should have been my turn, it feels like ages since last I had my last turn.

Anyway, to confirm, yes, I'm retiring until I feel I have time for playing the game properly.

Thanks to Avolition for noticing that I was still in the turn list and for the good articles on the wiki.

I wish everyone playing great luck.

[kesperan]

"Kothvir I", Part I, Turn 85

The Legacy of the Raven - the Tale of Kothvir Shadowstar, the Black Raven.

16th Felsite 880

I have lived all my life in Covereddrinks, with my father, the blacksmith. He has taught me all he knows but I can't shake the restlessness in my soul. I feel there is something else out there for me.
The town now counts me as their best armourer. I can craft almost anything out of iron or bronze, and have made many fine suits of mail for the local militia.
I've always felt different. The other children at school teased me for my black hair, which I hated. They called me the black raven, because of my hair and hooked nose.
I've asked my father why I am so different, and he always looks pained. He tells me it is Sut's way. I don't remember my mother, but father says I got my necklace from her.
It's a strange looking thing, with odd symbols. Made of a black precious stone, I guess.

Father is dying. He can't operate the forge anymore and has taken to his bed. I tell him that I can't stay here when he is gone, that I need to go out in to the world.
What I want more than anything else, is to learn from a dwarf. I yearn to shape steel, but nobody in the High Confederacies can teach me this. I need to find a dwarf master and that isn't going to happen in Covereddrinks.

Father says when he is gone, he won't be able to stop me reaching my destiny, whatever that means. He bids me to train every day with his sword, for when he isn't here to protect me from the ghouls that blight this land.
I am not sure I beleive him... nobody in Covereddrinks has ever seen one, but they say that the bigger towns are overrun, and nobody wants to visit the priests any more.

We are followers of The Communion of Adventuring, worshippers of the great wise Sut, the Tomb of Quests. Lord of Death and Persuasion. Our monastery, so I am told, is Roaredlions, near Sculptarches, but father would never let me go.
Said the ghouls would rip out my heart, which is a pretty scary thing to tell a child.

I am not afraid. I will go and visit these places when he is gone. I will reach my destiny, whatever that is. Maybe I will find a dwarf master smith and learn to shape steel, the first human steelsmith!
Or maybe I will visit Roaredlions and see the prophet?

The sun is low on the horizon and the lanterns flicker, as father calls me to his room. His breath is slow and weak and he bids me to come closer.
On the dresser is his black bear leather robe, and his notched bronze sword, alongside a backpack which looks strangely new.
He whispers that his time is come, and that he knows I will make him proud.
He has traded his last possessions for a horse, and bids me to leave Covereddrinks and never return.
He urges me to visit the great library of Divedact, where he is sure I will learn of my true destiny. My face twists in sadness and confusion, my cheeks wet.

I bury my father in the yard of our house. He will always be with his forge. I stow my meagre belongings in the pack and lead his horse away from my home, my childhood, my past.
The horse is called Omin, Silver, though it does not seem to respond to this name.

I leave the town and spend the morning hunting wildlife for provisions. Pack stowed with echidna meat, I mount Silver and head South, to where the villagers say is the closest Dwarven settlement.
I will visit Divedact for my father, that I promise, but first I wish to learn from the Dwarves. Surely I will find a smith willing to teach me the secrets of steel?

I realise this is the furthest I have ever travelled, as I leave the plains around Covereddrinks, heading to the closest village, Basicvaults.

On the outskirts of Basicvaults, I am suddenly ambushed by a horrid green person hefting a pike! This must be a goblin! Wrestling the pike from his grasp, I throw it into his leg and he yelps in pain. I wrestle him to the ground and eventually manage to strangle his filthy throat.

It seems that goblins run Basicvaults... this must be stopped in the name of Sut! I burn the goblin's corpse as my father had always warned me to. He says all who live in the time of the Blight must. Don't want him coming back as a ghoul.
I head towards the mead hall, warily leading Silver. The overlord runs in panic as the horse rears on him, and I defly take his head. Basicvaults has been reclaimed by the High Confederacies! Silver and I spend the night in the Weathering of Cusps, before dining on echidna meat and fisher berries.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

17th Felsite 880

I continue my journey southwards. At the nearby castle of Peekbees, the garrison are waking as I enter the keep.
I spot a fine maceman, who is also a worshipper of Sut, who greets me in kind. He looks a fine warrior. I decide to ask the garrison here to run Basicvaults - I am no lord and I have more important tasks at hand.
They gladly accept.

I trade some gemstones for a fine iron breastplate. Upon it is a superiorly designed image of a square cut brilliant gem, The Roughness of Riddling, the symbol of the High Confederacies, in marlin bone.
I spend some time with the soldiers, sharing rumours. They take great pleasure petting Silver.
They tell of blighted thralls roaming the lands, one of whom was struck down by a wolf woman necromancer Desli Wanedhummed. Sounds scary, but I remain skeptical.
At a shrine of Tokda the Pristine Help, I roll the die and I am granted a week's good fortune! Could have been worse...

We stop at Embracedvises to rest for the night, and on entering the mead hall I am witness to a horrible scene!
Two twisted creatures reeking of death shamble from the hall. A Lady and a Sacred Gold... the draw crude knives and lunge for me!
The undead menace... my pulse quickens as I scrabble for my sword. Father spoke the truth, for surely these are Blighted Thralls. This threat must be ended!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

They are very tough.. tougher than goblins or echidnas. My bronze sword seems only to bruise their muscles, not enough to slow their assault.
I yelp in pain as the Lady stabs my finger with her boning knife, but I get a lucky strike in and take her head in turn!
The sacred gold seems to look confused and retreats into the keep, leaving itself exposed to a slash to the neck.

I burn their corpses before heading further south. Dunehoisted is similarly infested with Blighted Thralls.
I feel a little more confident now - aiming for the head and necks seems to be the quickest way to dispatch them as they shrug off hideous body and limb wounds.
Three more thralls lie on the funeral pyre before the night is done.

18th Felsite 880

I arrive at a tall stone structure, the tower of Momentcrowded is long abandoned.
Piles of dismembered corpses and skeletons lie rotting inside but there is scant treasure to be found.
I am close now to the dwarven hamlet I have been seeking. Perhaps a smith there can teach me the ways of steel?
I bump into a dwarven baron running errands to the tower - he points me in the direction of Guildperfect.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

It is the first time I have set eyes on a dwarf and they are strange stocky creatures indeed.
I introduce myself to the mayor, Reg Stockadewhipped, a rather frail fellow.
Reg tells me about some scary sounding dwarf forts - Frostwall the Last Bastion and Northmanor the Unholy Cathedral. They seem awfully far away.
I enquire further about whether there are any dwarf forts closer to here? Or any dwarven smiths who I can learn from?

Eventually he relents, and tells me of a fort nearby, Knifesteamy, which is still in operation.
Before he takes his leave, he suggests I ask about an abandoned fort to the far north, Relicward, which was rumoured to have great steelworks, and a temple to Midor, the dwarven death God. This I do find intriguing!

I follow the mayor's directions eastward, to Knifesteamy. Knifesteamy is rather sparsely appointed and at first glance appears deserted. There is no inn or temple that I can see, but there are some strangely fresh meat and fruits at the trade depot.
I tie up Silver and head down the coiling stairwell hoping to find some more helpful dwarves...

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

A short while into the fort I encounter my first occupant - a militia commander. This gruff soul is Moldath Racebridges.
I find only five dwarves here, remnants of a prior garrison. All of them have very important and grand titles and regalia, and are not in the remotest interested in teaching a human about steelworking, or guiding me to Relicwards.
There are huge levels dedicated to forgeworks, but they are stone cold and deserted. I find not even a scrap of iron, let alone steel.
Finally, I find a stockpile of well crafted dwarven smithworks. And steel armour! Oh how I am crestfallen when I realise it is just too small for me.
I do find however a steel sword and shield to replace my dented bronze ones. I leave Knifesteamy still with no knowledge of the dwarves.
I continue my tour of the southern hamlets of the High Confederacies, hoping to clear out any ghouls I can find.
A rather curious sight awaits me in Embraceddonkeys - a goblin lord and a mead hall brimming with elven poets of the performance troupe The Doctrines of Scalding.
Elf poetry is not my scene, so I bid them good day.

The town of Sprayoils is where I uncover my next coven of ghouls, and it looks like I am not the first to visit.
Corpses are strewn haphazardly around with hewn limbs and axe wounds gaping. Some damn fool has forgotten to clean up after himself.
I take down the lady and a slavering priest and am lucky to find a living survivor.
I spend most of the day clearing the place of corpses and tending to the remaining priests, who are grateful and let me stay the night. The funeral pyre burns until dawn.
The survivors acclaim me as a Witch Hunter, and I agree to continue my crusade to cleanse these villages, until I can reach the dwarven fort Relicward.

19th Felsite 880

On the outskirts of Sculptarches is the monastery of Roaredlions, as my father said it was.
Here I meet a curious goblin who claims to be a pilgrim. He claims to be a follower of The Communion of Adventuring like me. I find it hard to believe that Sut in his wisdom would allow a foul goblin to be his prophet.
He cheerfully lets slip that he is of the Most Sin and his wife is a bandit chieftess who lords over Sculptarches, and has done for nearly 200 years.
After maiming this bandit goblin imposter I decide to check out his story.
I had intended to leave him blind with no hands as a message to those who would seek to deceive in the name of Sut, but Obin has another idea. Don't mess with horses, I guess.
For some reason, the horse now wants to be known as Numberphantom, Idurwarosp.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

When I arrive at The Mauve Prison in Sculptarches, it appears I am already too late to interrogate this goblin bandit chieftess, as the hall is swarming with ghoulish priests.
This is the cathedral of the Communion of Adventuring, and it is desecrated. The floor is slick with blood and goblin corpses are scattered wide.
The ghouls turn to face me and unsheath their dull knives. This could get hairy.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Thankfully, although there are many of them, they have little skill and no armour. My dwarven steel sword cuts through hemp robes and necks alike as wheat. Praise be to Sut the Tomb of Quests, Sculptarches is cleansed.

21st Felsite 880

The next few days are uneventful, as I travel the lands, visiting the hamlets. No further ghouls are to be found.

Something deeply suspicious, however, is happening in Singetown. A goblin professing to be a snatcher hastily drops an iron goblet as I enter the mead hall.
I see the remnants of some thick crimson liquid within. He claims to be Ozud Auburnscourges. He is not very convincing.
He then decides to be a spinner, and regales me of tales of him "rescuing" children.
I goblin blood drinker who snatches children? This is not going to stand. After I carve him up it appears he is in fact Nako Dreadslip, the goblin Vampire.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Singetown itself is crawling with undead. I urge my horse to safety while I deal with this threat.
The acrid stench of burning corpses wafts lazily over Singetown as I ride out east towards Padsplotted.
The blighted thrall Lady and two Sacred Esteems are put to the sword. With that, the last ghoul of The Communion of Adventuring falls, and I am now made Sacred Esteem myself.
May Sut the Tomb of Quests guide my hand. With my faith as my shield, and a bloody big sword, I will suffer not the witch, the ghoul or the heretic.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

22nd Felsite 880

As we travel west, we bump into a travelling priest. He says he is headed to Sculptarches to take up his position as sacred call.
I bid him good day, and silently pray he fares better than his predecessor. We spend the rest of the day marching northwest following the crude directions to Relicward, and rout a goblin master from Frilldeath.
It is likely we will pass through all the major towns of the High Confederacy on our great travel north.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

23rd Felsite 880

Divedact. The city is huge, larger than anything I have ever seen, yet oddly quiet. This great city of knowledge is home of the Palace of Brains, the largest library on Orid Xem.
It has been out of the hands of the High Confederacy for too long. I will do the bidding of my father and visit the library, and maybe find clues to my heritage here.
A sinister witch from the Realm of Silver has taken residence in the keep so local villagers had told me. I shall investigate.

I tie Numberphantom up in the centre of the old town and explore the outskirts of the keep.
I stumble across what appears to be a ruined temple of The Tenebrous Abbey. Delving further, I find myself in the dusty catacombs of Mazestar.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

In a heavily trapped mausoleum, I find ancient steel gauntlets and leggings sized for a human, which are far superior to my battered bronze.
I ponder that this must be a sign of kinship of humans and dwarves in ages past, long before the undead threat engulfed this land and the stonefolk were scattered.

I trudge back up to the temple and head towards the Palace of Brains. It is truly a miraculous sight. More knowledge than ever I could have imagined.
The topics are diverse, geology, mechanics, astrology, trade... but several books catch my eye. The Unabridged Divedact, a 108 page guide to Divedact. Before the Human, a guide on The Master. Dwarf: Natural or Supernatural.

There are some revelations in these dusty tomes about the history of the High Confederacies, both ancient and recent. Divedact is now run by Peaceful the Godly Fellowship of the Realm of Silver taken over some years ago by a human necromancer. Perhaps this is the foreign witch the locals talked of?

Incenseorder, previously the jewel of the Confederacies, is now run by The Impervious Wall of the Dwarvish Walled Dye, usurpers!
It is true that Incenseorder has a troubled past. The great city was taken over by the undead of The Scholarly Manors for nearly seven centuries, then conquered by goblins of the Curious Horror and their demon masters.
Demons walked the streets after the town was sacked by goblins, and the cowardly dwarves granted them amnesty.

The charcoal brute Pis Meadowshaft left behind from the goblin attacks ruled the town for many a year, and put an end to many adventurers.
This firebreathing fiend was slain by the human blood-traitor Iden Bloodinked who conquered the town in the name of the dwarves of the Walled Dye.
The stubborn Impervious Wall then employed the same demonic charcoal brutes to run the city, and refuse all diplomacy!
They say the current leader, however, is a strange little wolf man who talks to the rotten ear of the dwarven King slain by Pis Meadowshaft.
Perhaps one day a hero will be strong enough to retake the capital for the glory of the High Confederacies, I grin to myself.

I am even more so intrigued when I see a chapter about The War of Scars, and recognise an engraving of a black opal amulet... the same amulet given to me by my father before he died!
The amulet's true name is Riddleddressed the Legend of Ravens, and it is the lost heirloom of Genam Riddledressed!

Could it be that that is the secret of my birth? Why I have the black hair of a raven, not the goldenrod of my supposed kin? What is the connection? I read on...

The Death God Sut the Tomb of Quests, praise be his bony countenance, bestowed the secret tablet The Certain Urns to Riddleddressed in the year 61, and with it she founded the tower Passionspirals which stood for nearly four centuries.
It was destroyed by the fearful armies of the High Confederacies in 443 during The War of Scars, and is now deserted. The Certain Urns is lost to time, and nobody is sure what happened to it.

I read on. It is said that the human Etru Rhythmicfree, lord of the Fellowship of Truth from Embracedvises looted the tablet when the tower fell, and it became a family heirloom.
Some say the following year, his army fought for the Creamy Confederacy against the goblins of the Curious Horror defending a long-sacked fort called Boltspumpkin. Why does that name seem familiar?
Etru was struck down by a monstrous blind monster demon commanded by the foul goblin Bosa Scarsteals, Master of the Curious Horror, and the slab was never heard of again.

The Creamy Confederacy had lost control of the fort to the undead of The Scholarly Manors many years before, and the dwarves of the Walled Dye and the humans of the Creamy Confederacy both staked a claim to it.
In the end, control was then wrested by the hands of an unlikely source - a strange goblin who claimed to have been a slave of the Confederacy.
This goblin swore allegiance to the Walled Dye, rather than the Scholarly Manors, and set up a Museum of all things.

Sadly though, the great knowledge is lost... Genam did flee the sacking of Pasionspirals in 443 and was slain by a charcoal brute under the onslaught of the Curious Horor, taking her secrets with her.
His apprentices were slain or enslaved, though some were unnacounted. Hob Tileddoctrines, one of the last of Genam's line, escaped from slavery and founded the tower of Largetempests leaving Passionspirals to ruin.

But what is this? A tale of a necromancer who slipped into the night after the tower crumbled to ruin... Innu Velvetstood. Imprisoned for theft and impersonating a prophet.
Last known whereabouts Orbsnarled, in Mong Uthros. Perhaps this coward is the last to hold Genam Riddleddressed's knowledge... my birthright.

My head spins. I thought my destiny was to bring the knowledge of steel to my kindred. To rid the High Confederacies of the vultures who pick its carcass, and now I find I am of the blood of Genam Riddleddressed?
I seek the guidance of Sut and in communion with him I find I need answers... I need to visit these places.

Passionspirals, the tower of my past.
Boltspumpkin, the curious Museum.
Orbsnarled - to find what happened to Innu Velvetstood.

And perhaps when I have the knowledge that has been denied to me, I will return and take Incenseorder from the demon-loving usurpers.

The streets of Divedact are blanketed in snow, and a pale moon is in the Eastern sky, as I make my way to the central spire which looms over the city.
I enter the Citadel of Sining to find a slavering goblin ghoul priest and a smirking Lady clad in iron. The Sacred Dream cocks a crossbow and I bat a iron bolt away with my shield.
The Lady merely snorts in delight as the ghoul barrels down on me. Aiming for the goblin, my sword catches the Lady on her breastplate and she howls in rage. I run out of her sight and manage to defeat the goblin before doubling back.

She is witheringly fast and laughs manically, screaming about wolfs and weasels she has slaughtered. I manage to disarm her jewelled silver scimitar, and a lucky strike to the leg chips her bone.
She seems to faint and falls to the floor unguarded. With a single strike, my steel sword is thrust into her heart to the hilt and her necromantic lifeblood spurts freely.

When the dust settles, I place the necromancer in the keep with her belongings and the bells ring out around Divedact at dawn. The Raven-Guard of Secrets of the High Confederacies rules Divedact!

[tonnot98]

Super busy these days, gonna have to push my turn down to the end. Yawo will stir after a few more years of meditation...

[BluarianKnight]

I did end up getting a little busy myself - I am freer now, and will be able to hand in the turn by the 25th.

[Bralbaard]

Hey Bluarianknight, could you please upload your turn? You can always finish your adventures later on a future turn. I'm looking forward to your stories!

Also Toady has decided that the (first) upcoming release of DF will not have adventure mode. We might be stuck in this version for a while... Imagine what this world will be by that time..

[AvolitionBrit]

Is a shame about adventure mode but atleast it's gonna come later. Will be interesting to see what comes of this world by then. Thinking of all the adventures

[Maloy]

Imagine what this world will be by that time..

It is terrifying


Likely by that point you could do a whole study on world and story development from this world lol it's already incredibly fascinating

[BluarianKnight]

Hey Bluarianknight, could you please upload your turn? You can always finish your adventures later on a future turn. I'm looking forward to your stories!

Also Toady has decided that the (first) upcoming release of DF will not have adventure mode. We might be stuck in this version for a while... Imagine what this world will be by that time..

I apologize! I can upload it tomorrow, I was going to today but I'm away from my laptop due to personal issues.

[BluarianKnight]

Hey Bluarianknight, could you please upload your turn? You can always finish your adventures later on a future turn. I'm looking forward to your stories!

Also Toady has decided that the (first) upcoming release of DF will not have adventure mode. We might be stuck in this version for a while... Imagine what this world will be by that time..

I apologize! I can upload it tomorrow, I was going to today but I'm away from my laptop due to personal issues.

Got it tonight - tossed it out. I did far less then I wanted with this turn - barely anything. My adventure was.. pitifully short.

https://dffd.bay12games.com/file.php?id=16020

[Bralbaard]

Thanks for the save game! Don't worry about the short turn, life has a tendency to get in the way of things like this.
I'm looking forward to the story.