Tirin I, Part I, Turn 110The Travails of Tirin Nightwhisper, Elven RangerMong Uthros, my home. A special place, if you ask me. Unlike the sprawling blight infested Realm of Silver far to the south separated by the Tundra of Heroes, we are a more civilised place. Centuries of harmony with our elven neighbours to the northwest has created a cultural melting pot, often due to shared worshop of the Lord of Balance, Blight and Death - Ala, a counterpoint to the force of nature that is Cacame.
I am one such example of this fusion. My name is Tirin Nightwhisper, an elf born in Weakenglimmers to parents who lived their own lives as Uthrosi citizens. But in recent years, cracks have begun to appear. In a few generations of the short-lived humans, I have seen this relationship sour. The elves of the Ribiromini sue for war!
Old Weakenglimmers. A town of apparent harmony where humans, elves and goblins reside together under the banner of Mong Uthros. But discontent brews, and has done since the election of an elven law giver. I am a ranger by trade, and I am fed up of the glances and whispers of "knife-ears" taking our jobs. The muttered whispers that Alatha Lakestactics is loyal more to the forest lands than his own people. And now, the threat of the blight rears its head. For so long, protected by the waters of the great bay of the Peaceful Waters to the south, we have been shielded from the infectious Ghoulfather's cancer, but now there are rumours of entire villages slaughtered, and of thralls infesting local governments. The humans see this threat rising in line with the new elven leadership and conflate the two. How could elves be responsible for this? We have no need of necromancy. I will put a stop to this insidious threat before civil war erupts, and first I will petition the law-giver himself. Within the town is a shrine to the Pulpy Creed, a sect who worship Ala. A common God of both humans and elves alike in this land, the elven forests lying a few days travel north, but I worship the Rumor of Caves - deity of the stars and night. It is a fitting god for a ranger who spends many night beneath the blanket stars.
It is the start of summer as I begin my journey to my intended destination of Drillshrine, passing through the village of Sternhold. Drillshrine is the seat of the govermemt, although mighty Atticmuffins is a much larger city it has changed hands so many times that the various factions who claim it constantly battle each other for supremacy. Years ago the bandit group The Late Specks was thrown out by a strange human from the far south known as The Black Raven, and since then the Greatest Attic of Muffins has laid claim. Rumours of a cult of planegifts are more recent.
In the monastery of Voiceorgan on the outskirts of Sprinklefloors, I meet a familiar looking elven warrior - a chieftess of some renown of the Squeezing Ford, as old as time itself. A spy perhaps?
This ancient elf, Afe Sparkledfill, bids me quiet and tells that the monsastery is a bandit camp! Within the monastery I find the chieftess, a squat dingy beast. A Dwarf? I draw my dull bronze blade and leap upon this foul bandit, its hand sails off in an arc!
Instead of fighting, the cowardly bandit runs off screaming, straight past the bemused Afe Sparkledfill. I make chase and finally my blade finds it's mark. I report the death of this creature to the elf chieftess, and she agrees it was indeed inevitable. I spend the night in the abandoned mead hall of Sprinkledfloors, wondering what I have gotten myself into. Drillshrine is a days travel to the north but there a few castles and forts nearby where I may check for more signs of bandit activity.
6th Hematite 972In the castle of Playfulbeds I do indeed stumble into some bandits... a huge camp! I enter what appears to be the barracks and immediately stop in my tracks. I am surrounded by humans, goblins and even a few elves. A sly-looking elven Chieftess by the name of Mistir Toastsgirl introduces herself and The Old Walls.
She quickly allays my fears - the Old Walls she assures me are a site of government, not a mere camp of bandits! Discussing rumours with her I learn of something intriguing. The princess of Ribiromini, Adela Skirtfords, seeks an artifact of dwarven provenance - The Scholarly Scorn. This is a zinc figurine of one of the old dwarven kings and I have no idea what an elven princess could possibly want with it. Perhaps if I could retrieve this figurine and return it to the princess, it could soothe the gulf between our great nations, and once and for all end all the tension? Unfortunately, the great learned chieftess has no idea where the item could be, nor even where the princess resides. I suspect she must surely live still in ancient treetop capital of Glacialtempests? Mistir has given me much to think upon - a plan of sorts is crystallising.
I can almost convince myself I see Mistir winking slyly at one of her elven couriers...
10th Hematite 972I arrive at The Man of Curling in Drillshrine to scenes of utter carnage. I struggle to hold the rabbit and muskmelon stew in my throat as I survey dismembered goblin and elf corpses strewn over a wide area. What on Orid Xem has happened here, where the law-giver holds court? Rising the hill I hear the clash of iron, and see many goblin priests tearing each other apart.
The law-giver Alatha the elf appears gravely wounded! I rush to his aid. One goblin has an unnatural pallor to his skin and shambles forward despite grievous injuries. The priests are too busy biting and stabbing each other to notice him but I manage to put myself between them, blade at the ready. The lumbering undead goblin quickly loses his head. So it is true... the dreaded blight has indeed reached our shores.
In the ensuing chaos it quickly becomes apparent that whatever malady the goblin was suffering from is spread by biting. Several of the cabinet are twisted into ravening ghouls before my eyes. When the din of battle ends, there are only three remain standing, panting ragged breaths. The law giver, the planegiftian lord Threbe, his silver crown splashed with gore, and myself. Pale and bloodied, Alatha hails me a hero, and bestows upon me the title "The Autumnal Watch of Glades" - a fine and honourable elvish epithet. A shortwhile later a heavily wounded goblin Holy Bile limps back to the hall, having fled for his life. He is dismayed by the scene of devastation.
We talk at length. It transpires there is a plague of undeath spreading in the heart of our noble kingdom. Alatha bids I investigate, as he does not know who to trust in his cabinet. He suggests I search in Atticmuffins, for a religious cult has taken hold there of zealous Hands of Planegifts. Perhaps it could be related? He bids me to to search the crypts under the temples, undisturbed for many years. I tell him of my plan to find The Scholarly Scorn, and he tells me he thinks it was seen in a dwarven fort to the east. He agrees it is a noble plan to return this to Adela Skirtfords as a gesture of goodwill from Mong Uthros. I help the law-giver and lord clean some of the carnage from this place and we work for hours burning the corpses of the infected dead. It is only when the hall is cleared that I notice Alatha slumped against the wall, a peaceful expression on his face. I place his corpse in his throne room, vowing to complete the task he has given me. I will scour Atticmuffins, I will try to mend the fractures between our people, I will rout the undead. I suspect the title will now fall to Alatha's only son, Ile Glitterlace.
15th Hematite 972I have spent a lot of time in Drillshrine, trying to honour the dead and clean up the mass of corpses and ragged armour. I have taken to camping on the outskirts of town - I am wary of being ambushed by the undead. The goblin, Gozru, turned thrall out of nowhere and we had to put him down. I am waiting for the new law-giver to arrive that I may tell him of how his father died. There is no sign of him so far.
18th Hematite 972Some new politicians and priests appeared. A few of them were undead - what the others have been calling Blighted Thralls. The guild representative is an elf, and the new abbot a goblin. It is disconcerting how the thralls appear to leave the Hand of Planegift Lord Threbe unmolested. There is still no sign of the new law-giver.
19th Hematite 972The new law-giver has arrived, along with two more thralls who are put to the sword. He introduces himself as Ile Glitterlace, son of Alatha Lakestactics. He is sorry to hear of his father's demise but thanks me for my help in avenging him. We discuss the situation with The Squeezing Ford. Ile has few solutions. He mentions a star chart, Commentary on Citadels, but nobody has seen an object such as this in many centuries. He agrees my plan to investigate Atticmuffins is sound, and that if I was miraculously to find the Scholarly Scorn, I have his blessing to approach the Elven Princess on his behalf.
I leave Drillshrine finally after many days, thanking Ile for his hospitality, and travel west past another monastery, where I am accosted by a strange unnatural dwarf. He has a Gaunt appearance and lunges at me silently. My now rather notched and bent bronze short sword shatters his skull and he slumps unmoving. To the immediate north is a dwarven settlement... Shiptrails. I find elven merchants here among the dusty skeletons of many dwarves. Sadly despite a thorough search I can find no weapons, armour or provisions better than my own.
20th Hematite 972In Urnpoker, I find a bronze longsword, its blade still unpitted and sharp. It will be a slight improvement. I head towards Atticmuffins. In the long abandonded tomb of Naquuv, I find a well-crafted iron short sword. My provisions are running low. I soon find myself in the refugee camps on the outskirts of Atticmuffins. Somewhat disconcertingly, the first linen tent contains the remains of several humans and an elf of regal bearing. The remains here are of Are Rockdsusks the Riddled Beauty - former spouse of the Dark Queen Vafice Lutecover.
Further south are a great many tents. I find an elven abbot, Gido, and many elven diplomats and politicians. They have been usurped from Atticmuffins by many threats over the centuries. Ather Wisdomwhands tells me he is the Keeper of the Seal under Alatha Lakestactics. I have to tell him of Alatha's demise. He looks crestfallen. The camps are in a sorry state, many skeletons lie bleaching in the sun. Goblins, humans and elves.
I enter Atticmuffins at last and arrive at the Inn The Raptor of Wealths, where I help myself to their stores of fruit. In the central courtyard, I hear the sounds of battle! Many hand of Planesgifts thralls burst from the keep. I draw my sword. The beasts are unarmoured and use ceremonial daggers, but their ferocity makes up for their lack of skill. Many fall before me. The remaining unafflicted priests shout insults and shoot bolts from their crossbows. This must be the religious cult which has taken hold of Atticmuffins. Thrall worshippers? Finally the jeers and bolts stop. The remaining priests glower at me. The lord of this place is Bemta Scoldedflames of the Greatest Attic of Muffins. They have ruled this place for nearly a hundred years, since the necromancer Kothvir Shadowstar laid siege to the keep and ousted the bandits.
This outside influence ends today. As the lord's head leaves his shoulders, a new dawn begins. I return to the elves in the camp, and bestow upon the War Leader Galir Lovedtreaties the title of Lady of Silverspires.
21st Hematite 972At the far north of the city is a huge temple known as The Harmonius Sanctum, a temple of Ala dedicated by the Pulpy Creed. It is allegedly under this temple that the bandits who really run the city have their lair. I will flush them out.
Goblins! A round-chin axegoblin lieutenant's red eyes glint in the darkness. I heft an iron scimitar looted from the temple and leap upon him. I find a steel helm and a horrifying <elf leather pouch> while searching through the catacombs beneath the temple. Soon enough I find the ringleader of this bandit group, Zolak Devilsquat. I end his reign of terror. A short while later I almost bump into an enormous lumbering troll! The tusked creature bellows in rage as I carve its furry flesh. The troll Godan Paintgleam falls, its shattered human bone crown clattering the rocky catacomb floor. Deeper into the dank murk I travel, down sewerways and dripping corridors. Suddenly, I open a door to a room full of horrible creatures. Amphibian men, serpent men, olm men, cave fish men as well as goblins!
A surprisingly chatty serpent man named Thothil tells me this place is known as Soundedmurk. He agrees to be my guide. He is a worshipper of Ase Glistenedseed, the God of dusk, twilight and dawn - a God similar to my own. He looks nervous when I tell him I am here to clear this place of bandits.
We spend many hours cleansing this place, and Thothil true to his word slays many of the denizens of the dark either with his copper pike or his sharp fangs. His demeanour soon changes, though, once the last of the goblin lieutenants dies. He refers to himself as
Lieutenant Thothil and turns on me! I dodge from his attacks and leave him here to wallow in the corpses of his brethren.
22nd Hematite 972I decide to return to Drillshrine to tell Ile of my success in Atticmuffins. Sadly when I arrive, it appears the thralls have returned in greater numbers. The master of beasts and cup bearers are dispatched, but to my dismay I find Ile's broken corpse in a corner of the hall. I place his body with that of his father. Who next will take the poisoned chalice of law-giver? Did Ile bear any kin?
24th Hematite 972I wait for a few days. More thralls come to the hall to stake their claim as members of the cabinet, and are struck down. There is no sign of a new law-giver. I grow tired of this taint on my land. I leave Drillshrine to its fate for now and head east. I must continue my quest to find the Scholarly Scorn. We cannot afford to be at war with the elves while the undead feast on us from within, and I have done all I can for now to stem the tide of blighted thralls. I travel through the abandoned tower of Mysterydressed and find no treasure. The mountains to the north are home to several dwarven settlements. Perhaps one of these is the one Alatha mentioned, or at least they may have rumours of the Sholarly Scorn.
25th Hematite 972Curses! I am ambushed in the night by a thrall. A dwarf administrator. She holds aloft an axe of unusual construction, the metal blue and almost translucent. This foe may be more than my match!
The beast is slow and I manage to dodge its attacks. I grab the axe and struggle with the thralls unnatural vigor to rest it from her grasp! Finally, my battered scimitar cleaves her rotten skull. I have avenged whomever's blood stains this fantastical axe.
I have no skill with this type of weapon, preferring the grace of a sword, but there is no doubt it is of masterful craft and would be a boon should I learn to wield it. I leave the undead where she fell and continue northwards to the mountains of The Fingers of Affliction, an evil and foreboding place.
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Topic: Museum III, adventure succession game (DF 0.47.05) (Read 474587 times)