Kadi I, Turn 168
The Pilgrimage of Kadi Dawnheart23rd Sandstone 1175I've lived all my life underneath the earth, which for a human is pretty strange, I guess? I am from Dimpledtrumpet. The elders say the dwarves built this place a thousand years ago, but it was abandoned by dwarves a few centuries later after the apocalyptic battle against the undead hordes of Oddom Girdergrove. The Creamy Confederacy took over, and we've been living here for hundreds of years, working away in the mushroom farms and generally trying to mind our own business.
We have adapted well to living here, forging lives in the deeps. Most of the forges we inherited have stopped working over the centuries. We have some skill in metalwork, taught to us by visiting dwarves, but we lack the lore to maintain the ancient forges, and know nothing of the true forge-sorcery of the deep folk. We are The Friendly Fellowship of The Creamy Confederacy. We do some trade with the dwarves, though we don't see them very often. Some years ago there was a rumour that the old fortress of Kindlingrings, to the north east, was reclaimed by dwarves.
I long to explore this new settlement - speak with dwarves and other fair folk from across the many kingdoms of Orid Xem, and now I may have my chance.
Like many before me, I am a devout adherent of the goddess Rogon the Umber, the fair maiden of inspiration, wisdom, scholarshop, courage and the arts. I have spent my life preparing to serve Her. I have learned dance, music, poetry. I yearn for knowledge. Now it seems I have come of age and it is time to make my pilgrimage to Hoodconstructs, a holy monastery of Rogon the Umber far to the east in the lands of the Creamy Confederacy. It is my desire to become a monk of The Bejewelled Communion, under the famous abbot Em Soldbook. My family and friends wish me well, as I gather my leather equipment and head east along the ancient mountainroads, towards Kindlingrings.
I can tell I have found the entrance to the dwarven fort - magma, cages, goblin skeletons, surely the handiwork of the stout bearded dwarves.
I enter through a masterwork marble door and step out on to a wonder of engineering. There is clear glass wall between me and the magma sea - I can see the lifeblood of the mountain churning a few feet from where I stand! I ascend the carved staircase, not knowing what to expect.
I spot a dwarven forge and unlike the rusted ones in Dimpledtrumpet, disused for centuries, this one is still operable! I gather some charcoal and steel bars and following the ancient customs of the forge, craft myself a sword. A steel scimitar!
I finally find a dwarf, a soldier called Zaneg Jailedcrafts, who greets me gruffly. I find also a creature I have never seen before - it calls itself Kikrost Gearfields but it is no dwarf - slender and beatiful, with sharp knife-like ears - this must be an elf! But why is it underground?
I offer the elf-dwarf the opportunity to join me on my pilgrimage, but he would... rather not.
Having filled my packs with some food and famous dwarven drink., I venture to the surface. Ah, fresh air, for so long cooped up in the mountain this is a genuine pleasure. I feel the soft grass under my feet and I am glad to be on my journey, roughly eastwards, towards holy Hoodconsructs.
I journey east, gatting used to the sky above my head and the dirt beneath my feet rather than smoothed dwarven stone. I visit Wispygroups and Mintkeys, finding bronze and iron armour sized for humans to complement the few bits of steel I managed to craft in Kindlingrings.
In the streets of Mintkeys I am attacked by a slavering farmer - Kammat Jestsubmerged. They seem afflicted by some kind of sickness? Whatever malady affects this farmer it seems capable of inducing uncontrollable rage.
Their skin is blotched and warped and her neck bears a jagged scar. What manner of devilry is this?
Suddenly more of these horrifiying ghouls appear, several farmers and a furnace operator. By Rogon's fair grace I will end this poor soul's suffering. The monster that was once a human shrugs off many blows which leave gaping bloodless wounds, before finally my newly made steel scimitar cleanly shears off her head. I must check the remainder of the village is safe!
Outside a small house to the south is a freshly murdered corpse. The door swings open and a slavering farmer appears, covered in recent wounds. He appears only recently afflicted, as blood still pumps in his veins.
He lunges at me swinging a pouch of coins which bruise my ribs, I feel the air forced from my lungs! I quickly gain my wits and counterattack.
He is easier to slay than the more mature ghoul I encountered already - hot blood spurting from the slash across his filthy guts, he staggers before falling in a crumpled heap.
I go door to door, following the screams of battle. In the end, six of the ghouls fall to my sword. Many more are put down by their comrades.
Inside the houses are the remains of several mutilated humans, the smell of fresh death thick in the air. I burn as many of the corpses and body parts as I can find before spending the night in an abandoned house.
24th Sandstone 1175The villagers are not too happy when I recount killing a handful of their kind, so I sing them a song to calm their nerves. This seems to have the desired effect. Instead of spitting at me, they hail me as "The Bright Champion" which is rather nice. Rogon smile upon me!
They seem rather unperturbed by being attacked by the twisted forms of their kin, but I learn from them that this sort of thing has been happening every so often for hundreds of years. The plague is contracted from bites by an affected individual, and it is knwon colloquially as The Blight.
No-one knows where the Blight came from, some theorise that it is a remnant of the necromantic wars of centuries ago. I am glad a blighted thrall has never made it as far west as Dimpledtrumpet.
I press on eastwards. After an uneventful day travelling, I happen upon a merchant and their donkey, in a camp which I learn is called Stopmoment. I continue east through the Plain Hill, which seems deserted, and camp under the sky for the first time in my life.
25th Sandstone 1175Continuing east through the Whiskered Hill, I arrive at a monastery. The temple here seems dedicated to Seba, a deity of the Creamy Confederacy. She is the goddess of labour - hard work and discipline are her tenets.
Strangely, there are goblin corpses here, one in particular is wearing very fine clothing. I take an exceptional iron boning knife from her skeleton - it has an image of long skirts in electrum inscribed upon it, and is quite beatiful.
Sadly the goblins luxurious clothing is too small for me. I roll the dice and seek the blessing of Seba, and am blessed with good fortune. To the east is a town I have heard of before - Containedpaddles. I sleep in an empty house there.
26th Sandstone 1175I visit the mead hall in Containedpaddles, The Safety of Riders, as snow falls all around. Entering the keep I find the lord and the local priest are ghouls! I think the villagers in Mintkeys called them blighted thralls.
I manage to slay the priest quickly, but the farmer-lord is tougher than they look, only bleeding to death when three limbs are hacked off. I find a dog parchent scroll and compose a song to commemorate the liberation of Containedpaddles.
I continue east through the snow to the next village, Reignwisdom. This place is not well known to me - it must be of the Empire of Peeks. The mead hall is deserted, but some kind passing adventurer has left a bag brimming with strawberry wine. I take a deep drink, and leave it for the next weary traveller. I am not far from Hoodconstructs now.
Travelling ever east I almost stumble into a lair of some kind. It seems empty but it offers respite from the snow, and so I ready myself to rest here for the night. I quickly discover the resident of the lair - a pack of dingoes! I manage to kill the dingoes with only a few scratches for my troubles.
27th Sandstone 1175After a meal of dingo meat and a short travel, I arrive at the goal of my pilgrimage, Hoodconstructs, shortly after dawn. This is a holy place of the Bejewelled Communion, a religion dedicated to Rogon the Umber. I seek the abbot, Em Soldbook, a venerable and ancient priestess.
It was she who received the slab Stabbedweing in Hoodconstructs from the Lord of War, Kas Bannershocked of the Creamy Confederacy. Rogon was pleased - she is goddess of wisom and the written form, and the secret within that slab is of divine providence. I will pray to Rogon here, and seek the wisdom of the Abbot, if she is here.
The first thing I see is a wondrous aluminum statue, jutting upwards from the snow. It appears to be of a dwarf being cursed by Rogon to become a night creature.
The dwarf seems... oddly familiar. Could this be the infamous Blind Sadist? A bogeyman that the men and women of the Creamy Confederacy use to cow their children? There is no sign of the abbot. Nor of Stabbedwring, or of the other slab said to have been stored in this holy temple.
I approach the altar with trepidation. I say a final prayer to Rogon, and to her I leave my fate. The snow falls with strange intensity as I roll the dice. I feel Rogon's warmth around me and I am filled with her simple wisdom.
Within the building to the south I find the corpse of an ancient human monk. I burn his remains and ponder my next steps. I must find the abbot to continue my training. Perhaps she resides still in Carminedonkey, a town of the Bejewelled Communion.
Carminedonkey is far to the southwest. I begin my long journey in earnest.
In the town of Ownerlovers I find some evil goblins. They claim to be citizens of the Creamy Confederacy, but I see through their ruse. I slay them where they stand in Rogon's name.
The next town over is home to a blighted thrall priest... the sacred silkiness Ube Factionwilt has seen battle before; his left lower arm is missing and his diseased flesh is covered in scars.
The priest kicks me in the head and the room spins. I have the wits to lash out with my sword and his neck flies through the air. I find a rather nice red panda leather loincloth. Sturdy underwear is so hard to find. I sleep for the night inside the meadhall.
28th Sandstone 1175In Healerlocks I find a wondrous treasure - a well made tusus, of brushed aluminum. This is a fine instrument! It is next to a cherry wood gorhax, an instrument of The Empire of Peeks if I am not mistaken. The tusus is well tuned, and I am able to get a good version of Gazes and the Magician out of it. Rogon be praised!
A short distance to the west is a castle, Festivefang, displaying the banner of the Creamy Confederacy. I hope to see some friendly faces there. Instead, I find only goblin corpses. Cleaning up the mess takes most of the day. I find a few books and a strange ring of what appears to be the horn of some night beast, which I keep.
I spend the night under the stars in the Net-Dune of Spattering. Carminedonkey is still several days travel southwest.
1st Timber 1175I enter the grand town of Paddleticks just after noon. There is a market outside the keep. It seems this town has been conquered many times over the centuries, by dwarves, humans and goblins, giving it a rather unique character.
Barrels of draltha meat sit next to more questionable troll meat. In the central keep are a number of objects on pedestals, but before I can inspect them more closely, a goblin thrall attacks.
She is an impressively fat overlord, a human bone amulet around her neck. I draw my trusty scimitar and fend off her wild attacks.
As she lunges at me in a frenzied punch, my sword finds her throat. I claim this ancient town for the Creamy Confederacy!
On the pedestals I find many unusual things. Dice collected from shrines, several books, a variety of body parts of strange creatures and a glass instrument inscribed Chanceleopards. It is similar in size to a tusus, but I know not how to use it, nor any songs to play on it.
I spend the rest of the day exploring the town, which seems otherwise deserted, and the nearby tomb of Bornoats. From Paddleticks, I forge south, travelling an ancient road.
2nd Timber 1175The road seems to lead to a solitary goblin fortress on the horizon to the south, on the edge of a great sandy dune. On the outskirts of the fortress, I am accosted by an ancient dwarven corpse. I slash it once across the neck and it falls in a heap.
The corpse is shrivelled and impossibly old. What this ancient zombie was doing out here is hard to tell. Within Soundmalign itself, I find only one cowardly goblin criminal, who I put down.
3rd Timber 1175I find an encampment in the snowy Exalted Forests and decide to explore. A jolly merchant strolling outside gathering firewood, Jestri, tells me that this place is Jackalden, and used to be the hideout for a couple of were-jackal bandits a few centuries ago.
She seems a fine woman, and I ask her if she would be the new lady of Paddleticks, which she happily agrees to. I have no desire to be one of the gentry, only to become a devout priest of Rogon the Umber.
I continue uneventfully through the forests, reaching Carminedonkey at dusk. I rejoice for I have found the abbot! She is pleased to see a fellow worshipper of Rogon and joins me in song.
She does not immediately grant me membership of the Bejewelled Communion, but agrees to let me stay a while.
In the end, I spend many weeks in Carminedonkey, before being accepted as a Monk of the Bejewelled Communion. I was happy at last, and would have lived a long and fulfilling life there, serving Rogon the Umber, were it not for the fateful arrival of a curious dwarf with an audacious plan.
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Topic: Museum III, adventure succession game (DF 0.47.05) (Read 507068 times)