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[King Zultan]

FPS death would be a sad way for this fort to end, hopefully it won't come to that.

[brewer bob]

Part VII:
Looming Threats




10th of Obsidian, 374

The Winter Festivals were much shorter this year for there was so much to do: mining for flux stone, smelting and forging, training, and building.

It was only a few weeks until Waterlures -- the utopic dream of late Baroness Kasat -- was to become fifty years old. Of the original settlers only Kib Spearmobbed, mother of many and proud grandmother of a many more, was still alive. She was currently in the Fruit of Letters cleaning the tables after the mess all the merriment had left, but she didn't mind: she was drunk and feeling damn good!

Seventy-seven years she was, her body strapped with enormous amounts of lard and muscle -- and that was the way she liked it! It was only proper for one of her kind to be robust and rotund. Why, their shape practically begged for a padding of fat!

Life in Waterlures had been good for Kib. She was satisfied with it and all her dreams had been realized and more. If time were to catch up on her next year, she would be ready to face the Rabbit (and be reunited with Edu), content that she had done all she had to and left the world a better place.




A new house was to be built on the waters, next to Kib's home and Edu's Fishery (which was now run communally). It meant that some of the walkways had to be dismantled so that there would be enough room for it -- space was beginning to be scarce within the confines of the walls.

Likot Languagehame was working, carefully removing boards and railing, when she heard a crack, followed by a “Oh cra--” and then a horrible, deafening crashing sound as part of the construction went down; board, grate and capybara being flung all around in a cloud of sawdust, splinter and fur!

It took a moment for her to regain her senses. She was dazed by the accident, but immediately she gathered herself and checked the others: there were no injuries. Only very, very confused capybaras.

“Praised be Ôsed that you all are well and alive,” she said to them. “Now, let us all go clean ourselves and continue work, but be more careful the next time.”




The militia warden Kumil hurried down the walkways, not noticing the confused and dazed capybaras up on one of the platforms. No, he had other thoughts on his mind and was focused on them, completely oblivious to anything else. He raced down into the entry hall of the old baronial quarters, heading towards the stairs leading down to the new Dwarf Quarter.

He was on his way to the deep mines.

For he was among the first to be informed of the breaching of the Second Caverns, and as commander, he was to make sure the place was secure and free of danger. So, the Fenced Princes were now headed there to do their work and guard the capybaras as a hasty palisade was erected.



Kumil, Oddom and Inod of the Fenced Princes were the first to explore the caverns. They did not go far, but set out only to secure the immediate perimeter.

And there, among the winding passages and thick pillars of gabbro and marble, with spider webs here and there, lay the skeletal remains of an odd creature: most of it was composed of a large skull and its limbs looked comically small next to it.

“A gorlak,” Kumil said as he noticed the two young capybaras quite confused from what they were looking at, “Just like Ïteb the prophet. They live in the caverns, deep under the earth. Good creatures and wise.”

“Quite impressive those tusks,” Oddom, the son of Kasat who was oftern called 'Baron', said as he looked at the two large ivory teeth jutting from the jawbone.



“Huh? What was that?” Kumil reached for the hilt of his sword ready to spring around, “I heard something.” He was certain he heard some clicking and chittering from the dark. He didn't see anything, but he knew well enough from the dwarves that foul beasts -- giant spiders and such -- lurked in the depths of the rock, ready to jump on hapless victims.



“Ah, everything's fine, Kumil,” Oddom said, walking to the jittery faun and patted him on his hip. “There's nothing here. Only the remains of long-dead, unfortunate creatures. It's just the air flowing in the passages.”

It was rather odd that it was Oddom who was calm in the moment and Kumil who was nervous. More often than not it was the other way round. But this year had been a good one for Oddom and he was in high spirits.



He and Istrul Wheelscrow -- one of the capybara women who'd arrived from the Cobalt Empires a few years back -- had married not so many a month ago. It was more of a practical marriage than one of love, but Oddom liked it that way. He could continue the line of his mother this way and Istrul would get the security of his family's wealth and protection.

Some might have said that Istrul benefited more of the arrangement -- she did come from a peasant family, after all -- but then again, Oddom was not actually a noble, and Kasat had been an actual baroness of Ustuth Ïdath for only a few years before she was stripped of her titles and holdings and the usurper Stukos was made baron of Waterlures.

Besides, Ïteb the prophet had said that the dice had spoken and this marriage was the will of Ôsed.



“You know --hic!-- ,” Inod, who wasn't paying attention to the discussion, said to the two, “It'ssh funny that it was --hic!-- the three of us who arrived here firsht...” She was quite drunk and euphoric at the moment, looking at Kumil and Oddom from head to toe. They were handsome in their armor, truly a pleasing sight for her eyes.

“A ssshkilled warrior --hic!-- ish a beautiful shight...” It was a bit hard for her to collect her thoughts and say them aloud, not to mention it was hard to understand her slurred speech caused by a drunken stuport. “A truly, truly --hic!-- beauuuutiful sssshight to be--hic!--hold!”






13th of Obsidian, 374

Åblel Sprinklegorges, one of Kasat's children, was on his way to erect the palisade in the caverns. 'All that nonsense. Fancy clothes and such to present oneself as better than others,' he was deep in thought, not paying much attention to his surroundings. 'Pssh! I wouldn't feel comfortable at all getting all dressed up and speaking in that silly uppity-up-up kind of way.

He stopped. He was not where he was supposed to be. He was confused. This didn't look like the place where the palisade was to be built -- he had walked too far!

But wait! What is that? A passage? Leading down?

He crawled next to the opening in the ground and peered in. It was too dark. He set the walnut wood logs aside and silently crept down the slope in the hole. Down, down he went until...

A new cavern -- a third one -- opened up below! And in it, next to sinister-looking dark waters was something unimaginable.




A pillar of sparkling, beautiful bluish green stone or ore rose from the waters, its texture smooth yet intricate at the same time. It was unlike anything he had seen before.

At first he thought that this was something that needed to be reported. But soon another thought crept into his mind: why should he? It was his find and if he told of it to the others, well, it would not be his anymore, but shared with the others.

No. He would keep this secret, keep it to himself.

One day he would come here alone with pick in hand. And then, then he would take a piece of that beautiful stone and take it to his quarters. Oh, how wonderful it would look there sitting on a pedestal, making his room feel like a personal palace!






22nd of Granite, 375

'Well, at least I'm getting better and better appraising the value of goods,' Atír Archsinged, the broker, thought to himself after a deal gone awfully wrong with the elves of Múya Loré. He had made the mistake of not inspecting the goods he offered carefully enough, and somewhere, there among all the masterful yak bone crafts (mostly made by old 'Zultan'), was something with a piece of wood in it. Or perhaps it was a wooden craft some careless person had put into the stocks very clearly labeled 'BONES ONLY'?

Ah, who cares! He thought. It could have been a mistake made by the new bookkeeper, that curious mountain gnome fellow whose name Atír always forgot (it didn't help that he wasn't the talkative type -- in fact, Atír didn't remember ever hearing the gnome say anything). But he didn't really care. If the elves were offended, well, it would be the task of Mister Lizardorgans, the elf mayor, to handle the situation. With his smooth-talking it certainly would be no problem!

Besides, Atír did not have time to think of it any further: it was time to go for a personal training session at the barracks.





Deler Slidbusts -- miller, woodcutter and husband of Ònul Strickenrelics -- was in the caverns, outside the confines of the recently finished palisade. He was chopping down some of the odd-looking mushroom trees, for Datan Netinked, the tavern keeper dwarf and long-time friend of capybara folk, had said that the new trade house (which was still being built) would look “mighty fine with goblin-cap or tunnel tube roof shingles.”

So Deler had picked up an axe, headed down to the caves and did not heed the instruction of the militia warden: none should venture out without protection.

And that could have cost Deler his life.

For from between the twisting passages and tightly packed pillars of stone a white-scaled monster attacked him: a large cave crocodile -- all tooth and snapping jaw. Were he not fast with axe and fist (and with a hefty amount of luck), he surely would have fallen prey to the beast.

But he did not escape the encounter unscathed.

After giving the crocodile a good, solid whack in the snout, it had become shocked and dazed, giving Deler the chance to run away. And as he ran, he noticed his right thumb was smashed open, gouting blood; he could feel something wet and warm trickly down his neck and it hurt like hell; his clothes were torn, shredded and bloodied, and now that he looked closer at his right hand, he noticed that vicious claw and tooth marks had cut gruesome wounds all along his arm.

He hastened his pace and rushed towards the surface as quick as he could, fear taking hold.




13th of Slate, 375

The troubles from the caverns did not end with the cave crocodile (which was eventually put to the sword by Kumil).

No, there was more to come. This time Atír Archsinged was in trouble.

He was stunned, covered in dirt and barely standing, facing a terrible bat-like monstrosity. Just mere moments ago he had been heading up the shaft when the monster had attacked. They had grappled and wrestled, punched and bit, until Atír was flung by the beast down the hole, into the caverns.

Fortunately the fall was short, and tha landing was softened by a thick layer of floor fungus.

But what was unfortunate and terrifying was that there was no help near. No one to hear his yell for help. He was on his own. Facing the creature with bare fists, seeing red and lost in rage.



And it was his rage that kept him alive. For the beast was surprised by his ferocity, and now it in turn was gripped with fear, desperately crawling and trying to flap its wings so that it could lift into the air and flee.

At least for the time being.




Finally the bat managed to escape from the raging rodent, retching and vomiting, flapping its bruised and cut wings. Half-blinded, after getting its left eye smashed into gore by a wicked punch, it tried to make its way deeper into the caves. Away from these new creatures who turned out to be more than he was able to chew.



The bat was lucky.

He managed to lose his pursuer, clamber and fly over the palisade, over the cavern lake and into the dark.

He had escaped his prey this time. But perhaps he would come try again later, after licking his wounds...





16th of Felsite, 375

It is unclear whether it was the same giant bat or not.

But what is certain is that this bat made a horrible miscalculation: in its hunger, it tried to ambush the captain of the Ochre Snarls, Istrul Wheelscrow.

Would the bat have had any brain in its head, the shining steel mail and breastplate along with spear strapped to back should have been a dead giveaway. But no, this bat, it was not smart. It had no guile. It was just plain dumb.

But it was not completely without brain, no. For you see, when Istrul's spear struck it in the head, penetrating all the way through to the other side, one could clearly see gray brain matter oozing out along with gushing blood.





24th of Felsite, 375

“Well, I'll be off now,” Oko said to Edëm, as he grabbed the fish he'd caught and turned to clamber up the stairs. “Good luck with the fishing, friend.”

Summer was just around the corner and it was raining. To Edëm it seemed like it always rained here, but it was more annoying than anything else. He didn't quite get it why some got so grouchy because of it. 'I just don't get it. Doesn't fit in me noggin. How can they be so glum because of it?' He thought, not paying much attention to something nibbling on his fishing line. 'Pssh, a little rain ne'er hurt anyone. No reason to be all upset 'bout it... Well, maybe Oko had a reason. Poor fella hasn't had time to pray to that --what's it called?-- ah, yeah, that farce. That magic thing. The elf-thingie. You ask me, he's better off that way.'

So he continued talking to himself in his mind for a few hours, completely oblivious to the fact that fish had long since nibbled all his bait away from the hook.





5th of Galena, 375

Old Kib Spearmobbed and 'Zultan' had been discussing about their lives in Waterlures, recounting all sorts of events good, bad and silly, and the discussion had turned to their offspring. Specifically to Etur and Inod. “Say, they're about the same age, Kib,” 'Zultan' had said, “So why don't we, hm, 'arrange' them some time to be together at the Hut?”

So they made arrangements, clever excuses and important reasons, got Vabôk the Mestthosite monk to give Etur free time from sparring. Inod didn't need much incentive for a vacation, but Etur proved a bit trickier. It worked out in eventually, and the two young ones were sent to the 'Lover's Hut'.

“Look, we should all work together,” Etur Laborworth said from across the table to Inod Oilyround. “That's why I joined the Rough Trances. You should do your share, too.”

”But I am doing my share,” Inod said, leaning back on the chair and crossing arms across her chest, “I'm part of the Fenced Princes. You think that's not enough? Being part of Kumil's soldiers? Like your father?”

Inod was, of course, correct. It had slipped Etur's mind that she was part of the heroic group who had saved Waterlures from many a foul foe. Or, perhaps he didn't want to remember it and wanted to give himself more credit? Now that he thought of it, he was being silly. Behaving like a brat who was trying to impress. Though his skill with fist and paw was good (and improving all the time), he had to admit that Inod was a competent warrior indeed.

“You're right,” Etur began to apoligize, finding it hard to look Inod straight in the eye, ”It was a foolish thing for me to say. You are doing your part. And even more so.”

Inod blushed (it should be noted that even capybara folk blush, but it is not so obvious to us of the less hairy races), now finding in turn that it was hard to look Etur straight in the eye. She felt her shyness begin to creep through.




13th of Limestone, 375

Meng Manywalled was perched on a pole next to the Enchanted Bridge. He was carefully observing the horned equine grazing on the grass below and how it occasionally trotted to the inn's door, tapping it with its horn.

'Curious beast this Dastot,' the obese crow man thought as he flapped his wings and scratched his beak, 'Like a horse, but with a horn on the forehead. I think it's up to something no good.'

For many an hour he continued spying on the unicorn, certain it had bad intentions. And if it was up to the crow man, he would make certain no mischief happened during his watch.




18th of Limestone, 375

The autumn caravan from the Mountainhomes had recently arrived along with the familiar outpost liaison Tirist Brasshandles (who once again was irritated by the stairs he had to climb to the mayor's office).

Fecici Lizardorgans was headed to thresh some pig tails and hemp so that it may be spun into thread. He was pleased after impressing the liaison with his office (or so he thought) to the point of being proud. He also had managed to convince and assure Tirist -- who had asked some rather difficult questions -- that the mining and smelting operations in Waterlures were surely to be for the benefit of the King's war efforts and nothing else.

It was, of course, a lie.





While Fecici wasn't normally so interested in what happened in the world, this time he had to be. For the news Tirist brought might have impact on his immediate life and surroundings. Perhaps not immediately, but most likely, eventually.

For in the early summer the Hell of Miseries had attacked Ustuth Ïdath, starting the Splattered War. It was nearly thirty years since the dwarves and goblin menace from the cold south had come to blows, so this was a rather disturbing turn of events. Especially with Violetgems fallen to the Tight Torments from the north.

It was not in any manner a good thing to be caught between two fronts.

Fortunately the assault on Inkedwhims, the capital, had been a disaster on the goblins' side. A certain dwarf named Dodók Organropes had easily outmatched the pitiful plans of the green-skinned terror, sending those not captured whimpering like beaten dogs to their Master.

King Såkzul had retaliated.



He had sent a small army south, to assault the very heart of the Hell of Miseries: Closeterrors, a dark fortress and the throne of their Master.

While the assault was not a success, the dwarves suffered few losses. It would, of course, have been foolish to think that they could conquer the fortress. No, the motivation seemed to be to send a message to the Hell of Miseries: King Såkzul would not cower in the face of such an enemy and he had among his ranks powerful warriors.

Rumor told that there was even a capybara man among the ranks of the King's army. He, however, fell in battle. It was a curious detail. Pity that the outpost liaison had not known his name -- he might have been someone the capybara folk from Waterlures knew.

Whatever the impact of these events would be, Fecici was certain of one thing: defenses had to be strengthened at a hastened pace -- Waterlures had gained name and fame, and it was not a big secret that it lacked proper protection and sat alone, far from the heart of the might of the dwarven kingdom.

It was only a matter of time before Waterlures was to be struck.

=====

So, Waterlures is now fifty years old!

There was a ton of stuff happening during spring 375 (and nothing in the summer). Didn't manage to write it all down, but I got at least the most important stuff, I think.

The finding of adamantine was NOT planned, but an accident. I had no idea there was a passage going from the second caverns to the third and straight to a candy spire. For now I'm going with it being the personal secret of Åblel (unless some fool of a capybara stumbles there on their own -- which shouldn't happen now that a palisade is up and doors locked).

What I've gathered from Legends is that the Fence of Amusement hasn't breached the spire during world gen, but the Bent Spears have (that's where the Tight Torments goblins come from, I believe). So, I'm thinking that even the dwarves wouldn't necessarily have any inkling of what adamantine is. Maybe a historian might know, but I don't think we have any of those?

@AvolitionBrit
That raid in the end on the Dark Fortress might be of interest to you. There's a couple of your characters involved, and looks like resurrected Pan joined it but unfortunately fell in battle.

[AvolitionBrit]

Loving these updates, happy 50th anniversary to Waterlures. Interesting to see that Pan has served there purpose to the world. Also the villians i have created within the world are activly holding against the dwarves. Will be interesting to see what comes next.

Also not surprised Pan died, was a weak skeleton. Next time you upload a save i will have to dig through legends to see what else is going on in the world.

[dikbutdagrate]

I'd be interested in steering the fort for a turn.

[King Zultan]

50 years is a pretty good run for a fort like this especially since we haven't had any invasions yet, also adamantine is a pretty cool find even if we aren't gonna use it.

[brewer bob]

I'd be interested in steering the fort for a turn.

Certainly, I'll add you to the list. Would you care to do an adventurer turn? I've been quite reluctant to give overseership of Waterlures proper to others, since I've got a certain kind of architectural vision for it (not to mention growing unhealthily attached to the place) and a ton of unfinished projects there that I'd rather not be messed. (I really should update the main post, since the concept has changed quite a bit.)

So, the turns of others have mainly been adventurer stuff, whether it's just bringing new folk to town or doing some sinister stuff and stir the world a bit. Then there's the option of doing small settlements (=adventurer camps), which I've been lately adding to the world. Of course, your adventurer can visit Waterlures and do stuff there too (except murderhobos not welcome).

50 years is a pretty good run for a fort like this especially since we haven't had any invasions yet, also adamantine is a pretty cool find even if we aren't gonna use it.

Well, we got over the 80 population siege threshold only a year ago, so it's no wonder there's been no invasions. Without migrants population rises really slow even though we've been using adventure mode to add "migrants" in addition to the natural births. I prefer it more this way. Get more attached to the citizens and have to take more care of them since there won't be replacements anytime soon.

We'll see what direction the adamantine takes the story eventually.

[brewer bob]

Part VIII:
Artifacts and Portents



20th of Limestone, 375

Kûbuk Tradedruns, one of the dwarf prophets living in Waterlures, was peculiarly secretive. He was carrying walnut wood through the threshery, down the stairs and across the walkway to the crafting workshop next to Zon's and Asmel's Tailory.

He had become a prophet a long time ago, after being spiritually and divinely moved during his pilgrimage to Authorwhisper. There he had set his eyes upon sacred Flewcleans, the turban of Nomar Orderprophet -- an Exalted Persuasion of the Order of Harvesters. Since then, his path was clear: he would spread the message and word of Zoku the Permanency of Quests.

And now, now She had touched Kûbuk again, infused him with Holy Creativity and given him a task: create an artifact worthy of a goddess.



“Mokezsamam, Cagecourage,” Kûbuk said as he lifted the wooden scepter and admired it. It was masterfully made, the guidance of the divine clearly visible. It had wondrous intricate patterns carved into it, but to be honest, it was not so much different than other artifacts. Though, none said that to Kûbuk, of course. One does not insult a dwarf by belittling their life's greatest work.

However, there was one curious detail the capybara folk of Waterlures could not keep their eyes away from.

Part of the scepter was padded with pig tail cloth. And not padded in any fashion. No, the padding was an image. An image of the capybara woman Suwu Cleanmusics striking down a cougar man.





8th of Sandstone, 375

Waterlures continued to be blessed by Ôsed.

It was on the sparring floor next to the sheriff's quarters where Uvash Boltedpassions was brought to this world by Istrul Wheelscrow, wife of Baron Oddom. Istrul had not come to Waterlures to raise a family, but to help defend the good, free capybara folk of the town. However, things tend not to go as planned, and one thing leads to another.

And so here she was, married to the head of the founding family and now clutching their offspring in her paws. She felt blissful in the moment as she gazed upon her firstborn.



Oddom was with Eman, the elephant man and one of Vabôk's monks, smoothing the walls of the expansions dug into his sister's quarters when he heard the news.

“I am a father now,” Oddom said to the elephant man, excitement taking hold of him, “Can you believe it? The legacy of mother -- baroness Kasat, pardon -- shall continue with him!”

“Eh, I guess congratulations are in order then,” Eman replied, turning to look at the capybara man. Eman wasn't really interested in the families and legacies of these folk. He did like them, but he couldn't understand all the fuss about bringing up children and all the marriage stuff and such. Why, why would anyone in their right mind bind themselves with such a vow to another?

Pfft, it was for the weak to be confined by obligations.




But still, he was in a sense happy for Oddom and offered his old, tattered wineskin made of hoary marmot leather to him. “Here, take a sip. A good hefty swig. It's the finest of Kib's wine. Let's celebrate you becoming a father.”





Old 'Zultan' was at the soapery at work, making soap (what else would one do at a soapery?) out of grizzly bear tallow. He, too, had heard good news: his daughter Fikod Livingglazes had given birth to a girl, her fifth child. The amount of little “fuzzy-wuzzy” (as he called them) grandchildren 'Zultan' had was growing by the year.

'It's a pity Ilral didn't live long enough to see all this,' he thought, sighed as he added more lye to the tallow since it didn't seem to mix so well. 'I should pay my respects to the Prince. I haven't had time for it in a while. Ôsed's blessing won't do no good if the Prince isn't appeased and kept at bay.'




25th of Sandstone, 375

“Watch where yer goin',” one of the dwarf merchants scowled at Fikod Livingglazes as she was carrying some mushroom tree logs. They were in the second caverns and she certainly hadn't expected to run into leaving merchants here. So, as she was thinking of her family and newborn (not to mention that she was fuming due to having a miserable bedroom), she had almost bumped into the short-headed dwarf with broad, splayed out ears and his camel.

“I-I'm sorry, mister dwarf,” she stammered in response, stopping for a moment to look as the caravan passed through the palisade gates into the dark, winding marble passages.

'What are they doing? What would make them come all the way down here, and head off that way?' She thought. It was odd. It was suspicious. Very suspicious.

And as new assistant to the Sheriff of Waterlures, or more precisely, Dungeon Master, as was the dwarven title Fecici insisted she should use, this was something she had to look into.




4th of Timber, 375

Amane was so angry. So, so angry.

Those humans and their stupid thoughts -- oh, how they infuriated her! She had gotten into an argument with the guild representative Kosha Mergedlengths --that arrogant bitch!-- about, about... Wait, what was it about? Amane had forgotten it already, but that woman, oh how she loathed her now!

The fairy flew to the stack of barrels at the side wall of the Fruit of Letters. There was a big mug full of ale she'd seen earlier (she swore she had) and she was definitely in need of a drink. She dipped her head in the mug (she had remembered correctly for once!) and guzzled as much as possible for one her size in one go.

Ah, it tasted so good! It felt so good! Oh what a wonderful day this was! She began fluttering towards the stairs in a rather bobbing manner, the whole argument with the humans forgotten by now.





13th of Opal, 375

The Winter Festivals were late this year. Opal was almost halfway through and still no declaration when they would be held had come from the mayor.

So, life continued as usual in Waterlures (except for the speculation that there might be no festivals -- a horrendous thought).

Feb Spokenpaper, the two year old son of Ònul and Deler, was out in a snow storm, all exasperated when it struck: the mood. The odd, scary and mighty queer event many a capybara person had gone through in these lands. The event where you loose control of yourself and are guided by forces unknown to create an artifact even dwarves would envy.

And so little Feb waddled through the snow to Likot's old crafts house and begun his work...



...And when he finished he had a ring made out of giant cardinal bone in his paws, decorated with small studs of fine pewter and spore tree, and into the bone itself was carved an image of the Free Color, a hatch cover made years ago.

'Mommy will like this,' Feb thought as he admired his paw-work.




2nd of Obsidian, 375

Finally, when Obsidian arrived on the calendar, the Winter Festivals were held.

Once again, they were held in the Fruit of Letters. Fecici was not pleased with it, for he had thought that it would be a simple matter to change the place to the Enchanted Bridge. It was not.

After some polite discussions with capybara folk he deemed the most important, he came to the conclusion that if he didn't want to risk his re-election (of course, an absurd thought in itself -- who wouldn't vouch for him?), it would be a bad idea. And Fecici wanted to play it safe. He was still a rather new face here. And he very much liked being mayor: he was, after all, the most important person around.

So, the Fruit of Letters was packed tightly from wall to wall, and it felt like they might burst any time: for there were so many merry-makers and party-goers this year, too.

The worst was the smell. Oh, the smell.

Fecici hated it.




As the festivities went on ravens flocked in the dark gray skies, flying above the northern hill as snow silently fell down.

They had not been sighted for some time, and if everyone would have been at the Fruit of Letters, they might have been missed.



'Zultan' was the one who glanced up and noticed them in the sky.

'The black birds have returned,' he thought as he walked down the road towards the North Gate. 'If Ïteb is to be believed they are messengers of the Gods. Good or ill, both a possibility. I do hope they bring fortune, not death. The Prince should be satisfied, I have paid her my respects for this year. But I fear the worst. It's always the worst...'

As he walked, the wind began to blow harder, bite deeper. A snow storm was approaching, he surmised.




7th of Obsidian, 375

There were always some who didn't join the Winter Festivals.

Mainly it was due to work that couldn't be left untouched for too long, training sessions at the barracks or feeling a bit too ill for it. Sometimes one just didn't feel like attending. And there was nothing wrong in it. The festivities were not mandatory.

So, nobody paid much thought when Åblel Sprinklegorges didn't attend. No questions were asked, just accepting nods and 'do-as-you-pleases'.

It was the perfect moment for Åblel.

Ever since laying eyes on that beautiful stone in the caverns he had discovered (and kept secret), he could not get it out of his mind. It was becoming an obsession, and he so very much wanted to see it again!

And now, now he was carrying some fungiwood towards the passage he found. He would first build a make-shift bridge across the water, then carve his way through the marble and finally head to touch the stone. The oh so beautiful stone.



He hacked his way through the thick marble column, his pick strikes echoing and ringing through the otherwise silent vast caverns, small chunks of rock splashing into the still, dark water.

When he was through, he almost ran towards the bluish green stone, as if drawn to it by fate (though, more likely it was only Åblel's greed that drove him). He desperately needed to touch it.

But instead of touching the odd stone, he began hacking the marble surrounding it away.

And then he went for the stone itself with his pick, chipping off a piece of it.




Åblel managed to return to the surface without anyone noticing him. He headed to one of the crafting workshops he knew nobody ever used, climbed the stairs and threw his pick on the floor.

He looked at the piece of stone in his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement and greed. 'It is so light. So beautiful. So hard, but so soft. So bright, so precious,' he thought as he stepped to the table, rummaging for a mallet and various chisels. 'It does not look like stone. Not at all. Maybe it is a gift from Ôsed, a sign of sorts?'



After finishing chipping the stone into some kind of a figurine (it was harder than one would expect -- especially for someone with practically no skill), Åblel hastily made his way along the wooden walkways, peeking around corners to make sure nobody saw him, and when he thought it was clear he scurried off to the old baronial quarters to his home.



And there he put on a pedestal his work: a crude statuette that was vaguely looked like a rabbit, specifically the Rabbit, Ôsed. And the rabbit was contemplating (though, it took quite some effort from the onlooker to see this).

Åblel was satisfied. Here he could admire the stone each and every day, giving praise to Almighty Ôsed at the same time!





1st of Granite, 376

A new year arrived, and with it spring.

Spring was not only an occasion of relief that the Winter loosened its grip. It was the time when the ruthless flail of the Prince fell upon Minbazkar and culled the lives of those whose time had come -- as was agreed when Abod ensnared the Rabbit in an age before myth and time.

Fortunately Ôsed was wise and full of cunning: she in turn tricked the Prince when the pact was sealed, securing the souls of the mortals as her own, giving Abod only control over the bodies left behind. And these saved souls the Rabbit raised high, high above the mountains into the skies. And there aside the radiant Ôsed they danced and rejoiced, bringing light and hope to the world as twinkling stars of the night.



This year it was time for old Kib Spearmobbed, mother of eleven and eldest of all capybara folk to pass away.

It happened on the walkway leading across the Lakes of Saturninity to the Enchanted Bridge, and Zon Mineburned the Pilgrim saw it all happen. There, not so far in front of him, Kib had walked with vigor and strength when a sudden breeze, colder than the coldest of winter could be felt pass through flesh and bone -- yet no hair nor cloth nor snow was moved around by it.

But Kib, Kib suddenly fell to the ground, and Zon knew: The Prince had come and Kib was dead.

'Our time here feels so brief,' he thought as he clenched his fist leaving two fingers extended, grasped the wrist with his other paw and pulled it to his chest -- it was a hand-sign of Ôsed used by some worshipers of her. 'The Prince of Duty is ever-waiting to thresh us like grain -- may Kib's good soul be in the arms of the Rabbit and not among the chaff in Abod's winnowing basket,' he prayed.





21st of Slate, 376

The strangest thing happened to Amane the fairy. In one moment she was being her normal annoying self, flying around the Old Forge and pestering folk hauling stone from the quarries to the masons to be cut, and then suddenly, a new moment arrived: she was struck by a fey mood.

One would think (at least, Amane thought) that when one is a fairy, you are always in a fey mood.

Yet, that did not seem to be the case, and so Amane flew out of the forge with never before seen determination to make an artifact, not being the least distracted by all sorts of curious things on the way.



She claimed a seldom used workshop in the Oaken Gold, the crafters' guildhall, and then she buzzed along the wooden walkways towards the old baronial quarters, down the stairs and through the Dwarf Quarter, ever the deeper, down the mine shaft.



Past many a moss-covered skeleton lying between the stone pillars of the caverns she flew, all the way out the gates of the palisade, once more, deeper into the depths...




...But she did not have to go much further into the dark, for there she saw what she was searching for: a bone of some rather small creature of the caves.

(Well, for Amane it was not that small, and it took her an awful long time to drag it to the surface.)




While Amane was fetching materials for her masterpiece, Adil Wheelsconfined and Dodók Channelplaits were at the Lovers' Hut on a “much need vacation”, as Zultan had told them.

They hardly knew each other, and barely could say they were acquaintances, but old Zultan had decided to try and honor Kib's memory by getting as many of her children coupled as possible. And since no romance seemed to spark between Etur and Inod, the capybara man soapmaker had thought to see if he could get Dodók to fancy someone.

'One must always carefully consider the correct course of action,' Zultan had thought, and this indeed seemed  the right thing to do.




Zultan snapped awake. He had apparently fallen asleep while downing a mug of Datan's mead at the Hut of Romancing. There was some commotion coming from the tables next to his, which had disturbed his elderly capybara nap.

“Sewers? SEWERS! Bloody hell, Tekkud,” the voice of Vabôk rang as he vented at the dwarf sage (who used to be a doctor not so long ago). “You're talking about sewers when we're supposed to be planning strengthening the defenses of Waterlures!”

“Well, it is strengthening the defenses,” Tekkud replied. She was offended by the tone of the Mestthosite monk's voice, though at the same time it gave her more the reason to press her argument -- a little tumult now and then just spiced the day. “There are far worse and more insidious foes than mere goblins and ettins, monk.”



“As I wrote in my book, 'Question Fouled Water' -- which I highly suggest you read,” Tekkud addressed the monk whose face was turning visibly red, “Nasty diseases, deadly diseases -- infections, if you will -- spread when water is soiled with all manner of waste.”




“Why, despite my words in the book -- titled 'Question Fouled Water', in case you forgot --, folks in this town of ours keep taking all sorts of rotten fish, betattered clothing and animal corpses and throw them outside the walls. Outside the walls! Next to the lake! Do you even know what that can entail, Vabôk?” The sage continued her lecturing.

“Damn your books, and damn you scholarly types!” Vabôk raged, “By Mestthos' steelen buttocks, I'll shove those accursed papers of yours down your gullet!” He was about to spring up from the table and punch the sage in her nose.

“Language, brother. Language,” Unib, the Holy Bulwark of the Armored Cults' Waterlures chapter, snapped at the dyer-monk.



'Ah, the quest for knowledge never ends, yet some don't see the value in it,' Zultan thought as he listened to the bickering and arguing. 'Well, this'll be interesting to watch.'



“Indeed, mind your tongue,” Tekkud nodded at Unib. She noticed Vabôk trying to calm down a bit after the Holy Bulwark's words. “Like it or not, I will take this to mayor Fecici and recommend that we build a sewage system sooner than later. I am sure he will appreciate such a motion. And it would not only prevent outbreaks, but do something about the horrid stench of fish wafting in the air when all the scales and entrails won't be strewn about...”

“Hey! There's nothin' wrong with a li'l bit o' fish smell, I'm sayin',” Edëm interjected from across the room.

“Well, I can see that,” Tekkud turned to the dwarf miner, looking a little bit down at the simpleton. “Carrying half-rotten fish all the time with you. Such a crude habit.”

'Ah, that explains the fish stench surrounding Edëm,' Zultan thought as he looked towards the dwarf, noticing the tail of a fish poking out of his pocket.

“I think this discussion is over,” the sage said, “In fact I think I'll head off right away to meet the mayor. The best way to get what you want is to work for it.”

She turned and started walking towards the door, her incredibly fat body bobbing from left to right as she lumbered out of the tavern.





20th of Felsite, 376

Finally Amane's work was completed.

It had taken her almost a month to find the proper materials she needed (not to mention carrying all of them by herself) and craft the artifact of fey origin.

Eremoisa Alabeiróci, Smashedshafts the Momentous Vandal, was the name of the crundle bone ring of the highest quality craftsfeyship. Encircled with bands of crundle bone and cushion gabbro cabochons, the ring with crundle bone and hemp cloth spikes was truly a sight to behold!

She decided to gift it to Waterlures, as an appreciation of all the experiences the town had given her.






18th of Hematite, 376

Fecici was in a good mood and feeling proud of himself. Summer had just arrived and that awful, cold winter and terribly wet spring were now behind. Well, it was raining now, too, but summer rain was different. It was warm and soothing.

Fecici had just been re-elected by the citizens' assembly: once again it was decided that he was the best (of course) option for mayor. Yes, it was for the best of the silly fat rodents that he was in charge -- why, without him they would still be in the mess Likot Languagehame caused! She was utterly incompetent as mayor.

He walked up the quartz road with a pompous stride and a self-satisfied wide smile upon his face. He passed human merchants arriving from the Just Union, who glanced curiously at the rather smug-looking short elf with very splayed out ears and a well-groomed long, long moss green hair flowing behind him. The obnoxious elf raised his slightly tattered silken flat cap as a greeting, uncovering the several bone crowns he wore under it.

The humans looked at each other, shaking their heads as they continued their way to the trade depot.

=====

Another update there then.

I think Kib was the last of the starting capies to die. She would've been 79 years this year, so almost the max (she was made before I changed the max to higher than 80). A pity she died. Who'll now cook all the lovely meals and keep our citizens fat?

The adamantine chipping and sewer talk scenes were forced ones (in case you didn't guess), but I did try to write all the dialog/thoughts and such based on what each was currently thinking (well, maybe not Edëm -- also, he didn't have a fish with him, but I like to imagine he had, so now it's canon).

So, yeah, now there's a rather shoddy and "cheap" (for candy) adamantine figurine in the fort. Have to keep an eye on it in case someone else than Åblel sees it.

And, yes, I've been contemplating on adding sewers eventually to Waterlures. Won't be immediately, but at some point.

Other than that? I might have a couple day break from the story and do other stuff, but we'll see. (Probably I'll just end up playing and postponing other stuff, but we'll see.)

[King Zultan]

Dang the last of the OG capybaras is gone, that's a real shame. Also a sewer seems pretty cool even.


Here's the saved copy of the thread I promised, and I even kept it up to date as it has the latest update in it.

[brewer bob]

Dang the last of the OG capybaras is gone, that's a real shame. Also a sewer seems pretty cool even.


Here's the saved copy of the thread I promised, and I even kept it up to date as it has the latest update in it.

Yeah, but then again, most of them died peacefully of old age, which is quite something.

Thanks! I'll add a link to the OP once I get to updating it (I hope I remember to do it).

[King Zultan]

Kind of strange to think that this is the only fort I know of that has had quite a few members die of old age.

Also it's kind of exciting to have something I've done added to the OP of a thread.

[delphonso]

Good on you, KZ. I keep skimming this thread, but haven't had the time to sit down and fully catch up for the last 3 pages. I was coming here to back it up myself.

[brewer bob]

Also it's kind of exciting to have something I've done added to the OP of a thread.

Well, you certainly deserve it. And not only just because of backuping the thread, but for the support you've been giving since the fort's beginning.

I keep skimming this thread, but haven't had the time to sit down and fully catch up for the last 3 pages.

I guess there's quite a lot to read. When I get invested in something, all my focus tends to shift into it and I end up spending way too much time on it (and everything else is neglected). Had this problem since a kid.

[Salmeuk]

grats on 50 semi-continuous years I don't think I've ever had the patience to take a fortress to that age. It's sheer dedication! I think the fact you have this narrative living alongside the fortress, in a way, that's what keeps it growing maybe.

[King Zultan]

Also it's kind of exciting to have something I've done added to the OP of a thread.

Well, you certainly deserve it. And not only just because of backuping the thread, but for the support you've been giving since the fort's beginning.

Glad to be of service, also I've really enjoyed this whole story and all the characters in it, so I didn't want to see it damaged by those dumb asses at Imgur.

[dikbutdagrate]

So, the turns of others have mainly been adventurer stuff, whether it's just bringing new folk to town or doing some sinister stuff and stir the world a bit. Then there's the option of doing small settlements (=adventurer camps), which I've been lately adding to the world. Of course, your adventurer can visit Waterlures and do stuff there too (except murderhobos not welcome).

Oh no worries, never mind then.