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[brewer bob]

Part II:
A Changing World



1st of Granite, 380

“Can you say that again?” Baron Oddom said from his seat, gripping the handles hard.

He was in the old baronial throne room having a discussion with several scholars from the House of Knowledge. Olon Seerlances, the healer and scholar, was there, as was Datan Futuretours who had been travelling the world. So was Cog Crazetrades, a dwarf philosopher, along with the two sages Dumed Guisetin the dwarf and Nawo Lakehoof the gremlin. Spring had just arrived and the year had just changed.

But apparently something else had changed, too.



“Yes! Isn't it exciting?” Olon exclaimed with glee from next to the throne, clapping her paws with enthusiasm. “The era we live in has changed! And you, you are the one who brought us to the Age of Legends!”

“Yes, quite,” Cog the dwarf philosopher said, absentmindedly combing her ponytail with her fingers at the same time. “You see Baron Oddom, us Philosophers and Historians -- among other Scholars -- have long debated what would happen if the mighty beasts of Minbazkar were to pass away, if the living gods were not to hold sway any longer...”

“Indeed,” Dumed the dwarf sage interrupted and jumped in. “The question was 'What if history was like a book and split into chapters, and we are still living in the first one, not knowing of the second and third?' Some thought this an absurd thought and outright dismissed it, but then there were those of us who asked: 'If so, then how would we know when a chapter ends?' And this, my friend, is where you come in.”

All of the scholars in the room nodded and murmured. There were many “yes, yesses” and “quite, quites”, but Baron Oddom just stared at them dumbstruck, ever the more confused.

“And how would that be? I don't get it,” he said scratching his head and then leaning back in his mother's throne. He had a feeling this would be a long one.



“Yes, you see, Baron Oddom,” Dumed continued asserting herself, “It was agreed that we were living in the 'Age of Myth' and it began precisely when the fortress of Echourns was founded by a clan of dwarves led by Zuntîr Tongsbook who declared herself the first queen of the Bent Spears -- yes, the founding of the Bent Spears is where history begins.”

The dwarf sage paused for a moment looking at the facial expressions in the room. There was some uneasy shifting, but not any shocked expressions what one would see in any other place under the rule of King Såkzul -- it was heresy to claim that history began elsewhere than in Ustuth Ïdath.

“Now, now, calm yourselves,” she then continued, making calming gestures with her hands, “We can quite safely say the Truth here -- you all know that... But let us return to the matter at hand, shall we?”

Oddom sighed and leaned his head against his paw. It sounded like he was for quite the lecture on history...



“...so you see, Oddom, when you put down the last of the six many-serpents to have existed (to our knowledge), the hydra Agwa Mitebreaches the Pulpy, with Avo's war hammer Bronzestrokes, the number of living powers was reduced to a third from what it was in the beginning of time by Bent Spears reckoning,” Dumed concluded her long, long monologue. “Do you understand what that means?”

“Uh...” Oddom blinked his eyes and yawned. He did understand all that was said, but he failed to see what was the difference now. There was one beast less, the monsters were fading, yes, but what did it really change? The whole idea of these 'Ages' and what-not was absurd: just something the scholars seemed to make up to better organize a “book” that was history.

“It means you are an Age-Changer, the first Age-Changer,” Nawo the gremlin sage said with a somewhat foreboding tone in his voice, “And you hold a powerful artifact in your hands -- paws.”

The gremlin pointed with his long skinny finger at the rather ordinary bronze war hammer sitting in Oddom's lap.

“You are a living Legend, Oddom. You're a hero who'll be known for all ages,” Datan the capybara man scholar said as he walked to Oddom and placed his paw on the self-proclaimed baron's shoulder, “That's what it all means.”





'The Prince came once again,' Likot Languagehame thought as she carried the lifeless body of old Odda the leopard gecko woman to the burial grounds. 'It's a pity I never came to know her any better. She was one to keep her own counsel. Especially after Suwu left she kept mostly alone. I wonder what her thoughts were before her time was due?'

Indeed, spring was the time of Abod the Prince of Duty, and it was not only Odda who was struck by Her flail this year...





It was Mame Fordedrises of the Fenced Princes who discovered the sad sight. He had come to relieve Zultan from his post at the South Gate, but, alas, the Prince had come first and relieved the old capybara man soapmaker from his very life.

There on the quartzite road leading through the gatehouse, slumped against the wooden wall lay Zultan, unbreathing, unmoving, with a smile on his face that proclaimed peace and acceptance. On his lap was his old cat leather backpack, half-opened, revealing a wrapped omelette made of turkey eggs -- he had been denied his last meal.

It was a sad affair to lose one of the Fenced Princes and integral part of the town's history, but such is life that one cannot elude the touch of the Prince of Duty forever.

Zultan would be sorely missed by friend and family.




Despite the sad start of a new year and era, the spring was a peaceful one. Life in Waterlures went on, and with no immediate grand projects to build, citizens were free to mostly do what they pleased. Naturally, guard duties were still strict, as was the requirement for workers at the fields, but other than that it was a leisurely time and if someone was asked when something would be finished, the answer was “tomorrow”.

There was talk that the sewers Tekkud Bannerguise had proposed would be built, but planning them properly and cutting the required building blocks would take time. Nobody expected work to begin this year nor the next, and many wondered what was the need for such a thing anyway.





24th of Felsite, 380

“Well now, look here Mister Oceancaves,” Ushat the weasel woman said to the capybara man sitting at the table, waving her finger at him. “You are almost forty years old, unmarried and all the time talking about your irresistable looks and charm--”

“But Mrs. Valecaves, I look absolutely splendid today,” Ugrad Oceanmeads interrupted the tirade, leaning his elbow on the table and admiring his paw nails, “Why, it is not my fault that there is no one fit enough for me or pleasing enough to fancy.”

“Oh, shut up you,” Ushat snapped at Ugrad. “Look at yourself, capybara man. You are so full of yourself, of how you are great in this and that, but your body is the shape of a bloated tuber, and you wouldn't even know how to peel or cook one even if your life depended on it -- why, no sensible capybara would have the like of you! You were a bachelor in Tradeplay and you'll remain one here unless you change, young man!”





3rd of Hematite, 380

Likot Languagehame was excited. Summer had arrived and it was time for her lessons with arms at the barracks. She had much skill in wrestling, but wielding a weapon was something new to her. After Zultan died, a position opened in the Fenced Princes and she was chosen personally by Kumil to fill in.

“Now, watch your feet,” Mame said as he lunged with his short sword, driving Likot to the defensive. She held well, but the repeated blows of the elf's sword forced her to pull back and almost stumble several times.

“Feet, Likot, feet!” Mame repeated as he came on her with another flurry of blows. This time Likot fared better. The whole sparring session was very pleasurable to her. It was something sorely lacking from her life. Perhaps it would fill the emptiness she had had inside her after Fecici replaced her as mayor?




5th of Hematite, 380

As the first summer rains began, ravens were spotted once again flying over Waterlures. This time they mostly flew above the North Hill, circling around the tower of the unused guardhouse on the hilltop.

The black birds had been such a common occurrence these last years that not much attention was paid to them -- nobody seemed to think of them being an omen this time.




10th of Hematite, 380

Åblel Sprinklegorges looked around. He thought he heard something echoing from far off the caverns. As if a distant shriek. He shuddered. Probably it was just some awful creature lurking somewhere, waiting to prey upon unsuspecting victims. But he was alert. Not easy prey. He clutched the pick in his paws tighter as he moved on.

He was outside the confines of the palisade, without permission, once again. There was only one thing on his mind: the stone.

And he was set to get another piece, no matter what.



He walked past mushroom tree and stone column, then down the narrow tunnel he had found, deeper, deeper into the dark. His makeshift bridge of fungiwood was still there. He walked carefully over it, and there it was, ahead of him, as beautiful and enthralling as when he first saw it: the bluish green stone that seemed to whisper and call to him.

He quickened his pace, almost to a rush, squeezed between the marble and blue stone and began working with his pick.

Chink, chink, chink, his pick echoed in the dark.

It took a long time, but finally he managed to chip a nice looking fragment.



It was relatively easy to take the stone to the baronial quarters in these days with the constant bustle and patrols on the walkways. Since all the bustle was above, there was very little traffic below. All he needed to do was carry the stone up the shaft, through the Dwarf Quarter and into the Baronial Hall.

He didn't even try to sneak: he just hid the stone by wrapping his cloak tightly around him and it strolling casually home, without meeting anyone on the way.

Once he got into his quarters, he shut the door tight behind him and dragged the stone down to his bedroom, setting it in a corner.

He watched it for a while, eyes gleaming and a sense of satisfaction and glee filling his soul. Then he turned and went back to his daily business, thinking, 'I will have to do something special with you. Something different than a simple statuette this time...'





15th of Hematite, 380

This was the year when Thob Helmlabored would become a grownup. It was early summer and she was milling around the Fruit of Letters, wondering about life and what it would be like in the future for her in the midst of playing make believe. It bothered her, for she was not one to think highly of introspection.

'Now why am I wasting time thinking of myself?' She began to think, but the thought was cut short when she felt a strange breeze blow over her. A tingling sensation crept up her spine, raising her fur as it passed up, up, all the way into her mind.

She was struck by the magic of the Lakes of Saturninity.

Thob dropped what she was doing, her mind now set on something Important and Special. And she headed down to the walkways, walking past Vabôk's Dyery, through Edu's Fishery into the next fishery -- a communal one -- and up the stairs to a rather dusty crafting workshop, claiming it.

All she now needed was the Materials.



It took Thob a long time to finish her masterpiece once she had the necessary materials.

After days of intense carving of obsidian and orthoclase, there, in front of her on the table, was a scepter.

“Sôdimik Ugog Ïdath,” she said, astonished how one like her with no skill in carving stone could have made something so beautiful. “Mistychucked the Bane of Amusement. That is your name.”

She looked at the scepter, very pleased. His father, Kogan Girderreigned, would love it, and in his name she claimed it as a family heirloom: a rather simple, yet elegent, scepter ending in vicious spikes, carved out of orthoclase with bands of obsidian around it.





21st of Malachite, 380

“Aye, I could tell ya all 'bout it!” Edëm the dwarf yelled to Datan Futuretours from the other side of the porch.

The two had been discussing Datan's return to Waterlures and how horrifying it was that the spirits of the dead haunted the town that year. Datan was mainly interested on the scholarly side of it: how does a spirit remain here, unable to move to the Other Side? Or, is there even such a thing as an afterlife -- other than being a ghost? Such talk was far too complicated for Edëm who all the time kept on telling that “they 'aunted me, they did, those buggers” trying to shift the discussion to his personal experiences.

And now, it seemed, Edëm was insisting on talking about what he was familiar with.

Edëm stood up, walked towards Datan and begun weaving a story, “Ya see, it was a dark, rainy night when 'ey first came. Me spine and beard all tinglin. Me moustach--”

“I have to go now,” Datan interrupted as Edëm was next to him. The capybara man scholar got up, and went for the door of the Fruit of Letters, saying, “I just remembered some very important business I have to attend to. Tell the story another time, perhaps? Goodbye.”

“Well... I... Um,” Edëm stopped, confused, his finger raised up. Had he said something wrong?





9th of Limestone, 380

There was a loud rumble in the clouds and after that came a great torrent of rain came gushing down from the skies.

'Of course,' the outpost liaison Tirist Brasshandles thought as he stepped through the East Gate of Waterlures. 'Of course it happens now. Right when I step into this miserable hell-hole of a town. But you didn't get me now, Rabbit! Hah! I came prepared! I have proper attire for this occasion!'



Istrul Wheelscrow stood watch at the gate, spear in her hand, and looked as the plump dwarf trotted past her with a smug expression on his face. He wasn't dressed in his usual fancy clothes. No, he wore thick leather trousers -- perhaps made of giant field mouse -- well-suited for the traveler of the wilds, and he had a rather long coat, also of leather, which looked like it was stitched together from hamster skins. His head was covered with a deep hood of bobcat leather and under it he had a hat made of what could only be turkey leather (it had feathers on it still). Only his silken cloak betrayed his position as a noble man -- otherwise he looked like a hunter or trapper from the frigid south.





12th of Sandstone, 380

Autumn was halfway through, and it had been a peaceful one with nary a disturbance. Life had gone on in Waterlures just as always, but now in a grander, more alert way. Ònul Strickenrelics was standing guard in the Bell Tower, leaning her elbows on the railing and peering over the roofs and countryside. The slight drizzle of a rain didn't bother her, and it was somehow captivating watch the water drip down from the roof, sometimes a gust of wind sending the droplets falling on the railing.

Ònul was pleased with her life, though she hardly could call anyone a friend. Maybe Oko the badger man might be one some day, who knows? 'At least I have my family who I can count on. I don't really need anything else,' she thought, her mind wandering to her husband Deler and her children Dôbar, Feb, Mistêm, Èrith and Sodel... And Sodel...

She sighed. It would take time until she would get over the death of him, her firstborn, at the hands of the night troll when he was only two years old. “My dear, dear Sodel, I am so sorry,” she whispered, a tear forming in her eye, “I was not there to protect you. May Ôsed forgive me...”

'And may the Prince's hunger be satisfied and she keep her hands away from the rest of my darlings,' she finished the sentence in her mind.





20th of Sandstone, 380

Thob Helmslabored strode with confidence to the large stone stocks. She had a smile on her face and she was in high spirits: today was the day she was twelve, and with that a grownup. Now she was allowed to work in proper fashion and not just do petty tasks. And indeed, her scepter had impressed the stoneworkers of Waterlures so much, that she was allowed to work on her own without the supervision of a master.




The same day was also the birthday of Momuz Speartours, the son of Kib and Edu, and he, too, was now twelve.

But unlike Thob, he was not headed to work like an adult. No, he was in the attic above the Fruit of Letters -- the traditional playground of the children of Waterlures. And he was still playing. And enjoying it. Oh, if the Winter Festivals would be here already! That was what he waited for, not some pointless task at a tailor's or weaver's or mason's... Perhaps necessary, but so worthless. He was certain he could fit any task, but the truth was he really didn't want to. He would do it, of course -- it was only appropriate that he did his share.

But he wouldn't hurry. Today was his birthday and he would have a small party with the rest of the kids.





26th of Sandstone, 380

Aban Colorwhips, the son of Kasat and Cusal, stopped in his tracks at one of the charcoal burning pits of the smelting house. With an odd look in his eyes, he headed up to the forge area and went to a smithy, claiming it.

He had been possessed by the powers of the Lakes of Saturninity, and an artifact of great quality was on its way.





4th of Timber, 380

As Aban worked the forge above, on the ground floor of the building a very different kind of labor was taking place: his sister younger Edzul Boardtrampled gave birth to a  boy, her third child.

For Edzul this was a priceless artifact, a living expression of her and Datan's love.




“Tecàk Éth, the Sweetness of Shutting,” Aban said as he turned the bismuth helm in his hands. “You are truly amazing. A beauty. I shall offer you to Oddom. He can decide what to do with you, who should wear you.”

It was a magnificent helm, made to fit the shape of a capybara head perfectly. Its rims were encrusted with rutile, heliodor and crystal glass; strips of yak leather fashioned into rings hung from the sides, and on the top were spikes resembling small horns made out of bismuth and hematite. The forehead had a soft, embossed image of hamster men in giant cave spider silk and above it was a relief of goat bone depicting Lancersells the Natural Water -- an artifact crown.

When Aban gave it to his brother, Baron Oddom, he was pleased and said it would serve well as the symbol of the Dungeon Master of Waterlures and captain of the Turquoise Veils, Fikod Livingglazes.





25th of Timber, 380

Amane Groveautumns sat at the edge of the roof of the Fruit of Letters, letting her fairy feet dangle down. She watched as the rain fell, running little streams down the roof shingles. The streams sometimes came across another one and joined, becomin a slightly larger stream. 'It is a little like rivers, I guess,' Amane thought, 'Running down the hill, through the forest. Little streams become bigger streams become rivers become bigger rivers. Stronger and stronger. Such is the way of Icemì... But where does the river go?'

After contemplating it for a while (much longer than usual for her), she forgot the whole thing, stood up and fluttered down from the roof.





26th of Timber, 380

Ugrad was not one you would expect to heed the counsel of a weasel woman. But appearances can deceive: the words of Ushat in the spring had left their impact on him. He was indeed soon forty and he had yet to experience romance -- the burning passion of love from the stories! -- the one thing in life he yearned for the most.

So he had approached Miss Languagehame, the ex-mayor of Waterlures, who he knew to be still single, and asked her to spend some time with him at “the hut atop the hill to get to know one another slightly better.”

She had accepted, and in the Lovers' Hut they had spent the last of the autumn, enjoying the discussions they had; enjoying the crispy autumn evenings and smell of earth, watching the leaves turn into a display of bright, fiery colors and drop off the branches.

So far, no romance was found, no spark of passionate love between the two. Instead a new, strong friendship bloomed.





9th of Moonstone, 380

Winter arrived, the lake froze and everything was blanketed in the white of snow. Ïteb Hammerpillars, the gorlak ex-prophet, stood guard in the Bell Tower, a chill gale biting through her woolen clothes. 'People are basically trustworthy,' she thought as she kept watch. 'They may be wrong with their absurd ideas, their misconceptions, but in the end, when it counts, one can trust them.'

She was still disillusioned by the way things had turned in Waterlures, and maybe she was disgruntled with the Rabbit Herself. Kasat's dream was that: only a dream. The reality was that this place has the same problems that every place has, even though life was maybe slightly less harsh and cruel and leadership more just. It was naïve to think Waterlures could remain an utopia for the devout of Ôsed, singing praise in her name, away from the illness of the rest of the world...



But if the Rabbit in the Sky would truly have wanted this to be Her's, a place where the mundane and divine meet, she would have made it so. She turned to look at the unfinished and overgrown temple in the northwest. She scoffed, “Pfft. Such a waste. All the plans and such. All the work spent on it...”

She turned away from the sad sight and thought of the “holy” visions Ïteb had before coming to Waterlures... Either she was mistaken in her interpretations or Ôsed merely fooled her. There were reasons why many in Ustuth Ïdath considered Her a mischievous one.

And Ïteb didn't like being fooled.

So she had forsaken her path as prophet and become a fisher. And she was content with her choice -- whether it was the guidance of Ôsed or not.




4th of Opal, 380

As the year neared its end, the Winter Festivals began.

The Fruit of Letters was packed tightly with body of capybara, dwarf, elf and human alike. Mayor Fecici was getting used to it and he had abandoned all thoughts of moving this important event to another location. If this is where the capybaras wanted to mingle and sweat, so be it. It was only for a short time and once a year. He could bear it.

And -- though he didn't admit it aloud -- he was beginning to like it.




Zultan's memorial engraving.

=====

Welp, we lost Zultan and with that the last dorfed capied character... But at least he died peacefully and lived a good long life, and was very, very satisfied in the end.

I was a bit surprised of the Age change. I've boosted the megabeast and titan (and semimega) populations quite a lot, so wasn't expecting that to happen any time soon. (Can't remember if I've witnessed it in other than small/pocket worlds.)

Also, still no sieges (invaders are certainly on and I've restarted the program). Weird. Especially since our civ has been attacking the goblins. Or maybe it's because of that? But whatever the reason, I'm not complaining.

I'll probably hop into adventure mode next time. There's really not much happening in fort mode without any building projects, so it's basically just waiting and searching for something to write about. And while it's nice and chill (ok, sometimes slightly boring even), a change is needed once in a while.

[AvolitionBrit]

A lovely update as always.

Avo's legendary hammer is rich in capy history

Dang the last of the named generation gone. Honestly love that this forts the perfect size to get a feel for most of the capys as well as experience of their entire life.

I look forward to seeing what becomes of Waterlures in the future. Need to take a look at the legends next time im free.

[King Zultan]

Dang my guy died, glad to see it was old age that took him rather than some critter murdering him like all the other people that I've had named after me in other forts, and that's what separates this fort from the others which is a nice change of pace compared to other forts where death is constantly around. Hopefully this trend continues and we remain peaceful.

[Salmeuk]

RIP Zultan. Long lived, but in the end, mortal like all the rest

It was a magnificent helm, made to fit the shape of a capybara head perfectly. Its rims were encrusted with rutile, heliodor and crystal glass; strips of yak leather fashioned into rings hung from the sides, and on the top were spikes resembling small horns made out of bismuth and hematite. The forehead had a soft, embossed image of hamster men in giant cave spider silk and above it was a relief of goat bone depicting Lancersells the Natural Water -- an artifact crown.

now THAT is an artifact. perfect for a defender of that crown to wear, or something

[brewer bob]

Part III:
Broken Peace




1st of Granite, 381

“A great loss, the finest carpenter in Waterlures. A true master she was,” was said by Ïteb the gorlak at Luki Shaftvise's memorial. “She was not one to display herself, to flaunt her skill. A humble one she was. One who avoided places where was all the bustle and crowds, keeping to herself and her work. One who trusted and one who you could trust. Always there to help.”

Indeed, the Prince of Duty had once again come with spring and taken what was rightfully Her's. Luki Shaftvise, one of the pilgrims, was now dead. She was a rather invisible individual, though everyone who knew her liked her. Nobody had anything bad to say about the master carpenter, the creator of Twinklesewers the almond wood chest.



But nobody really knew Luki. She had her dark side. One she had kept secret to the grave. She might have been a helpful and friendly individual, but deep within she hated it. She loathed it. Such foolishness was sacrifice! And all the talk of peace and harmony. Disgusting! It was war, total war that was needed. The world needed to be bathed in crimson, all the order be destroyed and glorious chaos given reign! There was a reason she was always a bit nervous. Why she avoided the others. Why, what would have happened if her true self would have ever been revealed?

None of that mattered now.

Her soul was now on its way to Mater, the god of rainbows, whom was worshiped in the Cobalt Empires. There she would dance along with others on fields of all imaginable colors -- unless if the likely happened and her soul was claimed by Abod into her chaotic domain, where war was constant and death only a beginning...



It was not only Luki whose time had come.

Ganuh Carryclouds, a human scholar who had come to Waterlures half a decade ago, passed away. It was a great loss for scholarship and the search for knowledge: Ganuh was a truly remarkable Naturalist who had made many a great discovery and advanced the sciences in her life. Yet her time came before she wrote down any of it. With her death, her discoveries of the anatomy and diseases of creatures were lost along with her theories of the struggle for survival.

“Such a loss, such a tragedy for the quest for knowledge,” all the scholars of the House of Knowledge kept saying.





5th of Granite, 381

Most of the children were gathered in the dormitory above the Fruit of Letters, and the goblin Azstrog Worddungeons was looking after them. Azstrog was in the midst of talking with Kosoth Releasedsilvers, the three year old daughter of Edzul Boardtrampled and Datan Futuretours. As she listened to the child talk about how she admired the Fenced Princes and other warriors in shining armor, Azstrog noticed from the corner of her eye that Fikod Ragacts acted odd: the child -- who was almost an adult -- dropped what she was doing, stared blankly into the horizon for a while, then turned around and headed out the door.

'I wonder what went into that one,' Azstrog thought, before returning her focus to little Kosoth.



Fikod walked out of the Fruit of Letters, across the pathway still covered with snow, sleet raining from the skies, into the cellar of one of the craft's houses and up the stairs to claim a workshop -- one that had been regularly used by late Zultan, a master bone carver (and soap maker).

The forces of the Lakes of Saturninity were once again at work, and a new artifact was on its way.



A marble ring was what Fikod created: Asrertan, Appearedticks. It was a beauty, encircled with thin bands of pig iron, bronze and yak bone, its inner side cushioned with cave spider silk; its centerpiece -- a pear cut red spinel set into crystal glass with an image of one of Ïteb's dice -- surrounded with small spikes of marble.

Truly a marvel and wondrous addition to the ever-growing treasury of Waterlures.





6th of Slate, 381

“Ah, the art of philosophy. Where would we be without it?” Fecici said to the human lady carrying a book with the title 'A Treatise on Hernia -- by Tekkud Bannerguises' in her arms. “Of course, your kind is always welcome in Waterlures... And I see you are already familiar with the writings of our scholars.”

Fecici pointed at the book. He was not so interested in scholarship or the search for “Truth”. No, quite the opposite: he was not the least bit curious about the world. Yet he knew that keeping Waterlures at the forefront of the attainment of knowledge was a huge benefit for them, and since several old scholars had passed away in recent years, it was for the best to have new ones around. To keep things as they were.

“Yes, Master Bannerguises,” Goto Cherishedburied -- the lady scholar -- said, “I was saddened to hear that she is not among you anymore. I would have very much yearned to learn from her and debate some matters...”

“Mhm, yes, yes,” Fecici said as he already was turning to head out of his office, “You may stay, naturally. Seek out Ïteb Workgray the capybara woman at the House of Knowledge. She will set you up with accommodations and show you around. But for now, forgive me, I must take my leave -- I am a very busy mayor and have very many a thing to attend to.”

And so the elf mayor left, leaving Goto in his office to marvel the sight opening from the window over the lake.




It was a spring with nothing much out of the ordinary happening and life going on as usual -- precisely how it should be. Sheep were shorn, yarn was spun, wool cloth was woven, and clothes were tailored. Asmel's skill in cooking continued to improve and he would soon be as great as his mother and father, Datan pressed honey our of honeycombs for his meadery at the Hut of Romancing, the vinyards produced bountiful grapes for the wineries, Vabôk dyed masterful cloth when he was not on duty, and Rin's old mill was milling once again after Libash had picked up milling in her elder years.

All in all, despite some hardships and tragedies now and then, Kasat's dream of a peaceful place for capybara folk in a tumultuous world had come true. Waterlures was thriving and blooming.






25th of Hematite, 381

The studies and lecture halls of the House of Knowledge were a good place to think. That is where Datan Futuretours had spent much of his time since he returned to Waterlures from his travels. For during those travels he had seen that the world was full of folk with foul intentions, their eyes set upon the riches of others. It bothered him very much: the vaults beneath the baronial quarters were full of priceless artifacts. Something that certainly would attract unwanted attention. While the vault doors were secure, Datan was not so sure about the locks.

And so he had been pondering. How to make the vaults more secure. And now, finally, he had made a breakthrough! His idea was simple, but effective: a bolt with weighted pins holding it in place, which could be lifted with a key to unlock it. Surely such safety measures would keep even master thieves away!

Now, the only thing left to do was to try it out in practice...




9th of Galena, 381

“Good day, Miss Languagehame,” Oddom the manager said as he passed Likot at the North Gate. “Good day, Oddom,” Likot nodded and smiled to the capybara man. She was standing guard at the gates, watching as workers came and went from the vinyards carrying fresh grapes to the stores and vine leaves to be made into one of Vabôk's wonderful dyes (the pretty lemon-yellow one, quite the lively color).

She twirled Zultan's old mace in her hand. It felt good. She had learned much of its use this year and she felt confident she could hold her ground with it if need be. But training had been away from other activities, and she was a bit frustrated that she hadn't had enough time to pray properly to the Golden. 'I'm glad I'm not mayor anymore,' she thought, 'I was never the one fit for the task and I really didn't ask for it... It was just something that fell upon me after Kasat's passing.'



Likot looked again at the mace. It was of great quality, but other than that not so different from any steel mace: it had a sturdy shaft and a round head with knobs. While it hadn't seen great battles and wars like weapons of legend, it was a part of the history of Waterlures, part of the story of the Fenced Princes and their growth into a formidable fighting force. 'You know, mace,' she addressed the cudgel in her thoughts, 'I think I'm becoming quite fond of you. Who knows what we'll still face together in the future?'




11th of Limestone, 381

With autumn came the merchants from the Mountainhome, their many wagons drawn by reindeer and horses. The capybaras and others hurried to bring all manner of trade goods to the Trade House -- they were caught slightly surprised, for they didn't expect the caravan to arrive this early.

Along with the merchants came Tirist, the outpost liaison, prepared for his yearly meeting with the mayor. This year he was once again dressed in proper noble fashion: clothes of the finest cave spider silk covered him from head to toe. Perhaps he had heard of his last year's attire one time too many? No more looking like a lowly peasant or forester for Tirist, it seemed.




Just like spring and summer were peaceful with not much happening in Waterlures, so was autumn. Trading was done with the dwarves; the outpost liaison brought news of the still ongoing war between Ustuth Ïdath and the Hell of Miseries, but so far both sides were holding ground with little losses. The people of Waterlures went on with their daily business, the wars of the outer world only distant stories and something not tangible for most of them.

Even the defenders of Waterlures didn't expect any immediate threats, for it was unlikely that the goblins would shift their assaults from Inkedwhims to another place anytime soon. Perhaps a giant or two might arrive, but the Fenced Princes and others were confident they could deal with them. And the caverns had been sealed for now, since there was no need for more marble, so no terror from the dark could creep in.



These were good times for children to be born, and indeed, Fikod Livingglazes, the Dungeon Master, birthed a boy in early Sandstone and not many days later Dodók Channelplaits gave birth to a girl. Sandstone saw not only capybaras being born: Atír Tongsquill from Tradeplay bore a dwarf girl into the world and Iden Glovepartner gave birth to a weasel girl -- Baroness Kasat would have been pleased to see Waterlures turn into a place where capybara, dwarf and other races lived together harmoniously, raising their families in the serene lakeside town.

There were six births altogether in autumn -- the blessing of the Rabbit was stronger than ever this year.





2nd of Moonstone, 381

A cold early winter rain fell from the dark gray sky. The turn to stand as lookout in the Bell Tower had fallen on Ustuth Polishlens, one of Kasat's sons, and he was not pleased of it. Time spent alone in the cold, windy and now wet tower was time away from something more meaningful. He felt all this mandatory “helping out for the common good” was a waste and didn't like such things imposed upon him.

'Miserable, lousy foul weather,' he grumbled in his thoughts as he stared across the landscape, not really focusing much on the task at hand. 'Why do you taunt me this way, oh Ôsed? What's in it for you to make my day miserable?

As he grumbled and muttered curses, he turned to look to the northwest.

“Huh? What was that?”, he said half aloud. He thought he had seen some movement in the woodland.




It was hard to see through the rain and the dark cast by the clouds, but as he squinted his eyes Ustuth saw a band of men and goblins approaching from the northwest, just beyond the unfinished temple. They were armored in mail and plate, carrying cruel looking weapons in their hands.

These were no travelers: they were a raiding party of the enemy!

“Raiders! Raiders coming from the hills!” Ustuth yelled down from the tower before rushing to the angen and beginning to strike the bells furiously.



Ustuth made a quick headcount of the warriors he saw: ten altogether. Most likely a raiding party or scouts of some sort.

'Our warriors will drive them back,' he thought, confident that these uninvited guests were easily dealt with.



For the first time, all the gates of Waterlures were shut at the same time.

The enemy coming down the slope next to Rin's old mill saw the Mill Gate raise, and after stopping for a while -- possibly forming a plan -- they began heading to the east, perhaps to search for another less protected entry?



Fath Ironorgan, who was in the gatehouse above the Mill Gate with bow in hand, saw one of the humans stop at the way shrine to Mestthos. She carried a large maul with her, placed it against the shrine wall and turned to the statue of the god of fortresses. Was she praying? Was she laughing? Was she desecrating the shrine? Fath could not tell from this distance.

Soon another human rushed down the road, spear raised to strike: one of the war grizzlies was standing guard at the catacomb entry. It did not put up much of a fight before the human slew the poor bear.




Angered by the death of the grizzly who defended the sancity of the burial grounds, Fath aimed his bow and fired. The human raised her shield and blocked the first arrow, however, the second one struck her in the guts. It probably did not penetrate her mail, but it clearly caused some damage: the woman began retching and vomiting and screaming.



“Only ten?” Ana Talonspread, the fox woman captain of the Orbs of Focus, said when she heard how few of the enemy there was. “Leave this to us. Me and my boys and girl can handle this. You keep the gates secure,” she continued, waving her hand at her group of warriors: Upu Realmsflax, the snow leopard man hammer lord, Atera Fordwave, the coyote man swordmaster, Osime Waxrider, the pig man axe lord, and Cóce Simplecreature, the panda woman spearmaster.

This is what they had been training for. This is why they had come to Waterlures.

And so they headed out the Temple Gate to meet out the enemy in the open and crush them.



The first foe to fall was the bear-slayer.

As the vomiting human was still making her escape to the cover of the mill, Osime the pig man ran up the slope with a disturbingly joyful look on his face. Down came his axe and the woman screamed as her hand was cloven asunder, blood spraying on her and the pig man!

Next came the fox woman, slashing the human in the leg and kicking her in the ear. Oh the screaming of the raider that carried all the way to the gatehouse where Fath and the elf Amala Helplobster stood guard!

The others joined in hacking, slashing, stabbing and bashing the poor woman into an almost unrecognizable heap of minced meat -- Ana managed to almost cut the human in half with a mighty slash from her steel short sword.



The next enemy to meet their end was a bowman who desperately attempted to fire arrow after arrow at the charging panda woman coming for her. It was no use, for the arrows went wide or were dodged easily and soon the spear wielding ursine was upon her. Thrust after thrust hit the woman, puncturing her body and spilling her guts before she bled out.



The next raider fared no better when the Orbs of Focus came stampeding through nearly waist-length grass. The human hammerman was terrified, but that terror did not last long: teeth and hand were severed and sailing off in an arc, bones were crushed by hammer blows and the flat of sword, until he lay dead, his body mangled and mutilated beyond recognition.



And so it continued until the last of the enemies (who hadn't fled from the bloodshed) was put down at the east slopes by Cóce's spear.

The raiders were defeated and the defenders of Waterlures were victorious.

This year there would be a celebration in the honor of the heroes during the Winter Festivals.




6th of Opal, 381

The Winter Festivals begun not long after the pitiful attempt of the enemy to raid Waterlures.

The Fruit of Letters was crammed with citizens, all discussing the recent turn of events after an otherwise easy and peaceful year. It was most likely that the assaillants were from the Tight Torments, for many of the fallen raiders sported an image of tower-caps on their armor -- the symbol of the goblin kingdom. For years there had been no word of them, but perhaps they were now targeting Ustuth Ïdath because of the ongoing war with the Hell of Miseries. Maybe they thought a town of animal folk on the outskirts of the dwarf kingdom was easy pickings? Those fools.

There were many questions, but no immediate answers.

=====

Didn't hop into adventure mode yet and so we experienced our first siege. Unsurprisingly one squad of humans & goblins was no problem.

Next time maybe I'll do an adventurer run (got a few ideas), but it depends on how spring starts. I'll at least check if anyone dies of old age, but there's also a possibility for a siege.

Anyway, might take some days or a week off this game and do some other stuff, but we'll see.

[King Zultan]

Seems like we're losing quite a few people to old age at the start of the year again, and glad to see that no one was lost to that little siege, hopefully we can say the same for the next one.

[brewer bob]

I'm not too worried about sieges. We've got several capable squads (like the one that dealt with this "siege"), so unless it's a 200+ invader siege or archers manage to climb on roofs and shoot civilians, I think things will go quite well.

(Speaking of squads, I really like that the first name the rng gave for the panda woman was Cóce Simplecreature, so I stuck with it.)

Also, is there something people would want to see in adventure mode if/when I switch to it? Like, checking on Rivermine, or Cañar & Rin, or some other place/characters, or maybe something new (ideas welcome), or sending somebody from Waterlures to explore the world (ideas welcome)?

[AvolitionBrit]

Perhaps a part of the world yet unexplored, Gonna give the map a look and see if there is something of note in unexplored areas

[brewer bob]

Hmm, nice idea actually. There's at least a whole bunch of human hamlets/towns on the east coast beyond Controlledseal and the mountains behind it (though, I think they've all fallen to the necromancer apocalypse).

And closer by, in the west are the "Old Elf Lands" we haven't really checked beyond Morningwilt. Supposedly some of our new mercenaries are from there, but I didn't actually send anyone there other than in my narrative.

Then there's all the goblin kingdoms which we haven't touched at all.

Since Waterlures is now thriving and not trying to keep itself so secluded, maybe we could send a bold group of adventurers out to explore uncharted lands (and perhaps search for rumors of Suwu etc at the same time)? I'd imagine out scholars might petition for something like that.

And/or possibly someone in one of the lands we haven't explored has heard of peaceful Waterlures and sets off to check the place?

There's a map and some (outdated) world info in the second post, if someone wants to check for ideas and doesn't feel like going through legends.

Edit. And since we don't have any named/dorfed/capied characters anymore, would you feel like having new ones? We could combine this with the idea of someone who has heard of Waterlures, so you could propose (a) character(s) that'd head for the capy town and suggest a reason? (Something like give me a species, gender, desired profession, civilization, worshiped deity/sphere + motivation to go to Waterlures, and I'll whip up something as close as possible within this world.)

[King Zultan]

Exploring unknown lands and sending out guys to look around sounds pretty cool, who knows what could be lurking out there.

Also if you're doing another batch of named people I'd like one and I think I'll be a fox man this time around, as for profession I leave that up to you as you know what the town needs more than I do.

[brewer bob]

Also if you're doing another batch of named people I'd like one and I think I'll be a fox man this time around, as for profession I leave that up to you as you know what the town needs more than I do.

A fox man it is then. And there's really no professions we need, so I'll leave that to the rng.

[King Zultan]

Also if you're doing another batch of named people I'd like one and I think I'll be a fox man this time around, as for profession I leave that up to you as you know what the town needs more than I do.

A fox man it is then. And there's really no professions we need, so I'll leave that to the rng.

I'm good with that, also if you need someone for military duty I'd be game for that as well.

[brewer bob]

Part IV:
Ongorkök - The Outrageous Assault



15th of Granite, 382

Spring came to Waterlures and with it the elves from Múya Loré came to trade.

Oko the badger man was standing guard at the Mill Gate as the elf merchants lef their pack animals -- yaks, horses and camels -- through it, heading towards the Trade House. The others were already busy carrying trade goods for trade, for the elves had been sighted by Id Pucelfloor, the naked mole dog man who was the lookout at the time, some time ago -- the Bell Tower had other uses than just spotting approaching enemies.

Yes, it was spring, the Winter Festivals were over and Waterlures was preparing for another year as it rained sleet from the sky -- typical Granite weather at the shores of the Lakes of Saturninity.





25th of Granite, 382

'May the warriors of Kumil be worthy of you this year as they were in the last,' Datan Netinked the dwarf tavern keeper of the Hut of Romancing prayed to Mestthos. He had spent so much of his time working at the apiary tending to the bees, pressing honey and making mead that he had neglected his gods. Prayers had to be said and offering made regularly to keep the gods pleased and satisfied-- if not, they certainly could not be expected to help their servants when needed.

'Forgive me, Mighty Mestthos, for I have failed you as a devout servant. And yet despite my failures, you have shielded us, kept us safe. You are our guardian and commander, and I shall follow your lead,' Datan continued his prayers.





6th of Slate, 382

Young Thob Helmlabored was excited and couldn't wait until the day's work was finished. She had just heard that ducklings had hatched at the poultry pen. And not just one or two, but nine, nine ducklings! Oh how she waited to see the small and fluffy ones wobbling around with their large webbed feet! And the quacks and the chirping! She could barely hold the mallet and chisel in her paws as she worked and carved stone at a craft's shop.

Perhaps she could take a few of the ducklings as her pets? Yes, she'd do that as soon as this piece was finished.





12th of Slate, 382

'Damn spring rain,' Baron Oddom grumbled as he was checking the fish barrels next to the wall. He would have been more annoyed by the cold, wet sleet had he not just taken a few samplings of wine in one of the wine cellars. As he closed the lid of one barrel he felt in his spine what so many capybara folk had felt before him: the powers of the Lakes of Saturninity were at work and he, too, would create an artifact.



He walked down to the shore, past the poultry pen and onto the walkways, heading past the butchery and finally entering Zon's Tailory. He walked to Zon's table and claimed it in his mind as his place of work.

Amane the fairy flew behind him and looked as the capybara man sat at the table with an odd look in his eyes. She shrugged her shoulders and flew up the stairs to fetch some cloth for dying. 'I wonder what's wrong with that one?' she thought for a second until she remembered that she had just had a pretty decent meal. And that she had eaten it in her own dining room. It was bliss.



It took Baron Oddom nearly ten days to find the proper materials and tailor his masterpiece.

Finally it was completed and in front of him on the table lay a hood made of hemp decorated with giant peach-faced lovebird bones and iwith bands of red spinel and oak. Along its rim hung rings made of brimstone and spike-like studs of hemp, yak leather and oak went around it. To finish it off, on the top was an image of Racedrecluse the cave spider silk toga in grizzly bear leather.

“Govos Ser, the Leaf of Heads,” Oddom said as he put it on, “You will protect me from the weather like the leaves of trees shield those taking shelter under them.You are truly a splendid one.”





27th of Slate, 382

The buzzing of bees was intense as the dwarf Endok Touracts walked across the narrow walkway towards Edu's Fishery. He was taking a shortcut to the apiary, for he wanted to reach it as quickly as possible: he was carrying a colony of honey bees in his hands. Everyone was keeping their distance as he warned them with shouts of “Bees incoming! Make way! Bees incoming!” And since nobody wanted to be stung, they hastily moved out of the way.

“Now, now, bees,” he spoke to the bees flying around his head and body, “Do not think of yourselves as being free. None of us are. You are sworn to your queen and your queen to us. Stop acting like you are not.”

It was of no use. The bees didn't listen and calm down.

But neither did they sting anyone, which was good enough.





3rd of Hematite, 382

Thob Helmlabored, fourteen years old, was at the way shrine dedicated to Ôsed. Summer had just arrived and a light drizzle of rain fell from the sky, but it was more of a refreshing rain than anything. Amidst her prayers to the Rabbit, Thob remembered her recent comforting talk with mother and thanked the goddess for such wonderful parents. 'Thank you, oh Ôsed, for everything I have. For mother and father, my brothers and sisters, my aunts, uncles, cousins and all the wonderful people around me...'

Her thoughts and prayers were interrupted as she heard something from the slopes beyond the mill. As if some kind of rustling, shuffling and clanking of metal. She thought she heard some voices, too.

She peeked around the corner of the way shrine to try and get a glimpse.

She was frightened when she realized what it was.




A large group of armored and armed goblins was creeping through the brush, keeping low in the long grass! Some of them were climbing over the wall of the unfinished temple.

They were close and no alarm had been sounded.



The reason for that was simple: whoever was supposed to stand watch in the Bell Tower was not there. The enemy could have walked to the gates in the open unless Thob would have been at the shrine that day, at that very moment.



“Goblins! Goblins!” Thob began screaming and running down the road towards the Mill Gate, “Raiders! Run! Run!”



Workers from the vinyard next to the road and Mill Gate dropped their baskets and what they were doing. All began to run screaming and yelling through gates, spreading the alarm of an approaching enemy.



The warband of goblins came from behind the mill. They were led by a grey skinned goblin with fierce red eyes, carrying a cruel looking whip barbed with iron in her hand. It was no small raiding party, but a small warband: there were forty of them altogether.

And they seemed like capable warriors.



At the gate the defenders were already gathering with haste. From the Fenced Princes there was Inod Oilyround, daughter of Kib and Edu, with spear in hand, Likot Languagehame wielding Zultan's mace and Nako Doomjumbed with a short sword, but no shield, which for some reason he had decided to not pick up. There was also the panda woman Cóce Simplecreatures, waiting for the rest of the Orbs of Focus.

And lastly (possibly also the least -- depending on who you ask) was Atír Såkzullål, Thob's pet duckling, who had come to see that her friend reaches safety.

There would be no time to shut the gate before the enemy reached it, and certainly this group could only slow the goblins down.

But if this was to be their end, they would do their best to take down as many of the foes as possible.



As the defenders waited for reinforcements to arrive, the first of goblin arrows flew, narrowly missing Cusal who was heading to his position above the gates.

What got into him, the others could only guess, but he rushed out the gates, to the vinyards and straight towards the enemy on his own!




Immediately a swarm of goblins ran to meet Cusal as arrows began flying. A dance of block and dodge began as the old capybara man jumped from arrow and pike, returning with a strike from his bow on the shields of goblins.

“We can't just stand and wait!” Baron Oddom, who had just arrived at the gate, yelled. “Onwards! Let us turn the tide and feel no terror!”

It was his father who was there, all alone, surrounded by wicked goblins. Oddom would not dishonor Cusal by staying away from the fray, and so he led a charge -- perhaps a suicidal one -- into the midst of the goblin horde.



But no matter how bravely they charged in, there was no way Cusal would come out of this alive.

As capybara, goblin and panda woman crashed together, hacking and slashing their way to the surrounded old pilgrim, Cusal began to tire. And as he tired, he lost focus. And as he lost focus a goblin rushed on him, their bodies colliding and tangling, both falling to the ground rolling.

“Father! We're coming!” Oddom yelled, then bit a goblin in the cheek, ripping it into shreds. “Hold your ground!” He continued, spitting goblin blood before giving another good bite to the goblin, Cóce bashing another goblin in the eyelid with her spear shaft.

The shrieks and screams of goblins being ravaged in unordinary fashion were terrifying.



But ultimately it was not enough to save Cusal: there was no way even a master dodger like him could roll away from so many pikes and spears. And thrust after thrust found their mark, puncturing vital body parts, the pain becoming unbearable... And as he began to pass out, all it took was a swing from a long sword to sever head from body.

“FATHER! NOOOO!” Oddom screamed.

Cusal's head rolled on the ground.



The battle continued on furiously as Oddom led the warriors into the midst of the group of goblins, trying to reach the lifeless and headless body of Cusal. Arrows flew, swords clashed, maces and hammers battered shield and bone, and fist and tooth found their mark.

It was a desperate and foolish attempt, but terror and rage took hold of them, the sight of Cusal being decapitated shocking them all.



“Mestthos be with us!” Etur the monk yelled as he rushed with Asmel the hoary marmot woman monk to the aid. Armed with only paw and nail, with only clothes as protection, they were prepared to face the goblins, for they had Mestthos on their side and it was their duty to shield the others with their bodies if need be.

As soon as Etur reached the melee, he began punching left and right, hitting goblins in the head with great force. Asmel did the same. As long as they dodged the blows of the vicious goblin weapons and did not tire, the monks would hold their ground.



This was Likot Languagehame's first real battle, first real challenge, and she hoped it would not be the last.

With strength granted by her rage she swung Zultan's mace hard, harder than she believed she could. And it struck a goblin pikeman. Straight in his side with a sickening crack that broke bone and flesh.

The mace had lodged in the wound. She pulled it out.



It was hard for Etur to keep track of his surrounding as more and more goblins swarmed on them. No matter how he punched and dodged, it was bound to happen to someone without armor: a sword found its mark.

Etur felt a sharp sting as a scimitar tore through his cloak and dug deep into his flesh. He felt his innards take severe wounds, something that he might not pull through. 'Mestthos, if this is how I will fall, grant me strength to take down a few with me,' he prayed amidst the chaos of combat.



The battle raged on and Kumil the militia warden, Vabôk the leader of the monks and Ana the fox woman joined the fray.

Kumil jumped and kicked with his hoof at a goblin axeman, hitting and turning the goblin's cheek into a lump of gore. The militia warden then proceeded to slash with his sword at another goblin, striking the lasher leading the warband straight in the mouth and through her cheek.



Noticing Kumil taking on the leader, Vabôk grabbed the goblin by the tongue, pulling hard, giving the militia warden an opening to decapitate the lasher.

Together they went for the next target, a goblin hammerman. As Kumil fought off others, Vabôk placed a chokehold around the hammerman's throat, strangling him until he passed out, and letting Kumil finish the job with a slash to the neck.



Etur was badly wounded, unable to stand. He had been struck by a bolt, but this did not hinder him. No, he scrambled to the crossbowman, punching and biting him in the legs like a rabid dog!



Nine goblins had already fallen, but there were plenty still left.

And not all of them had yet reached the battle, but were taking their time to come down the slopes. Perhaps they were hesitant? Perhaps they waited to see which direction the battle would unfold before making their move?



Vabôk showed no mercy to the goblins. He punched and scratched, kicked and choked, bit and poked. The goblin he was facing was screaming in terror: Vabôk had bit his nose off and spat it on the ground.



The slope below the old mill was running red with blood, piles of corpses and severed limbs scattered around the muddied grass.

The defenders were cutting down the warband slowly, but it was taking its toll: Likot Languagehame was exhausted. She noticed her movements becoming slower and slower, her breathing heavier. If this was not soon over, she would pass out from the strain the fighting had put on her body.

Fortunately the others still had much breath and spirit in them and they kept fighting, slowly pushing the tide of goblins back.



But it was not enough: Likot slumped to the ground, her head feeling faint. She was passing out.

“Likot! Likot is down!” Litast Razortongues, the brother of Likot yelled as he hacked a goblin in the leg, “Damn it! Make way! I'm coming sister!”

Yet Likot was not done for. No, while fallen, she still dodged blows from goblins, returning with blows from her mace the best she could. She would fight. She would not fall. Not as long as she had spirit in her.



More and more goblins began to fall and the defenders pushed their way up the slope. The morale of the attackers was plummeting and it was only a matter of time now before they would be routed.

Likot and Etur were both lying on the ground, but they both were still breathing and there were no enemies near them. Kumil was standing guard over them and when he noticed they were safe for the time being, he continued up the slope to help push the rest of the goblin tide back.



And sure enough, as the goblins waiting on the slope saw their kin being slaughtered like pigs, they looked at each other and without any word turned around to flee from certain death.



Likot Languagehame lay on the ground trying to catch her breath as the rest -- even Etur, crawling on the ground -- made their way to chase the remaining foes away and possibly cut few more down. She grasped Zultan's old mace still firmly in her grip as she rolled onto her back staring into the sky, rain falling on her face and slightly cleaning her mud and gore caked fur. 'Whew, that was a close one,' she thought, momentarily forgetting that they had lost Cusal, 'Were it not for Zultan's mace, I wouldn't be alive anymore...'

She turned to look at the mace and spoke aloud, “Old Zultan never gave you name, did he? You certainly deserve one after this day... How about Authorclobber the Sick Strangenessess?”



The mopping up of the goblins was swiftly over as the Fenced Princes, Ochre Snarls and Orbs of Focus rushed after the enemy, cutting them down one by one.

The defenders of Waterlures were once again victorious, but this time they had paid a price: Cusal was no longer among the living.

He would be buried within the baronial mausoleum with his wife, baroness Kasat Waxedtiles.





7th of Hematite, 382

“Do not worry, Etur,” Olon Seerlances said to the capybara man monk laying on the bed. She was tending to him at the infirmary, stitching his open wounds closed. They were not nearly as bad as they looked with all the blood and mud staining him. “We'll have you up in no time and as good as new.”

“It is frustrating -- not your care, mind you -- but were it not for a simple mistake, I would not be here, wounded,” Etur complained, trying to not wince when the needle pricked him. “I should be up and training, bettering myself. Not lying in the bed like an old man.”

“Oh come now,” Olon smiled. “You did well. You helped keep us safe. Helped... Keep the losses low.” She wavered in her words. It was difficult for the healer to grasp the thought that Cusal was dead. And from what she heard, it could have been avoided.

“You rest now, monk. There is no need to rush and run under the Prince's flail before one's time is due,” she said as she left to fetch some bandages and soap.




13th of Hematite, 380

Atír Archsinged, the broker, met with the merchant's guild representative Sekur Cleareddimples at the kitchens of the Hut of Romancing. The humans from the Just Union arrived not long after the furious battle with the goblin warband, and the slopes of the mill were still littered with carnage. Fortunately this year the humans arrived from the south, following the river from Morningwilt in the west to the Lakes of Saturninity.



Amidst trade negotiations news were exchanged and Atír learned that the old law-giver of the Just Unions, Ite Safenut, had passed away a few years back. He had ruled the kingdom for a long time, but eventually his body grew too old and frail. After his passing, his son Pabat Cyclonehail was crowned and now sits on the throne in Meettraded.





5th of Malachite, 382

The crow man Meng was once again perched on a pole, looking at the hustle and bustle below him. With him was one of the ducklings in his lap, trying to snatch a piece or two from Meng's meal. “No duck! It is not for you!” Meng said as he kept moving the duck's head aside. “It is my food, not duck food.”

Perching on the pole with his fat form was not easy on the knees. After a while they began to hurt and ache a bit. 'Where are all the chairs? Why is there no chair here?' Meng thought, not understanding why such a magnificent spot wouldn't be furnished with one.




26th of Malachite, 382

Inod Oilyround was standing guard at the South Gate when a small group of cougar men and women tried their luck, attacking Kib Owlroughnesses who was praying at the way shrine outside the walls.

The unarmed and unskilled cougars soon realized what a mistake they had made when Inod rushed to meet them with spear at the ready.



Kib was not at the least frightened by the assaillants. She was one of the civilians ordered to carry a spear at all times, so she put her skill to test as she chased a terrified cougar man up the west hill.

Several others joined the chase and eventually the cougar men were hunted down.





6th of Sandstone, 382

Today was the birthday of Dôbar Tombhold, daughter of Ònul Strickenrelics and Deler Slidbust. And it was not any birthday. It was her twelfth one, which meant that from this day onward she would be considered a grownup. She was in her very own home, in the dining room, playing with an andesite puzzlebox. She had no luck solving it and brute force -- which she preferred -- did not work. It was a very well made puzzlebox, and perhaps one day she would be able to craft one of great quality -- it was one of her greatest dreams.




Autumn turned out to be a peaceful one, and that was very welcome after the shock of the goblin attack in summer. Life went on as usual in Waterlures, though Cusal's death still was fresh in the minds of many. Work was done at a slow pace, several young ones became adults and joined the work force, six children were born (five capybaras and one weasel), and a great autumn cleanup of wardrobes was ordered. Many had hoarded old betattered clothing, which they did not wear, but of which fripperers would pay a nice sum -- the rest would be disposed of.





3rd of Moonstone, 382

“Why, the whole notion is absurd!” Ïteb Workgray said to the gremlin sage, with a slight hint of agitation in her voice. Winter had just arrived, but Ïteb was oblivious to it for she had been discussing the concept of 'nothingness' with Nawo Lakehoof. It was something she had difficulties in accepting. She continued, “Even nothing must consist of something. It is impossible for what you speak of to exist.”

“Now listen, young lady,” the gremlin said with a patronizing tone, holding his arms behind his back, “It may seem that there is a logical problem in the whole idea, but if we separate things into matter and into space, we can begin to solve it. See, this space, this 'nothing' is not actually nothing, but, let us say, more of like a... receptable -- like that chest over there.” He pointed at the highwood chest normally containing writing materials, but now empty. “And in that receptable we can place objects -- matter -- such as parchments and quires. And as it is now empty, there is 'nothing' in it -- that is, it is filled with space, filled with nothing.”

“I would argue against that, good man,” Ïteb replied, tapping her paw impatiently on the floor, arms crossed in front of her chest, “But my throat is parched after all this nonsense. I must go quench my thirst, so please forgive me, I must go now.” She then turned around and left the lecture hall through the backdoor.

“Well, we'll continue this later then...” the gremlin said, scoffing in his mind at the simplicity of the capybara scholar's lack of intellect and logic.




Winter passed at a leisurely pace with little work being done, except for the cleaning which still continued. There were no Winter Festivals this year, but all work was halted for Obsidian and everyone could do whatever they pleased: go to the shrines for prayer, head to the House of Knowledge to read books, or to one of the taverns to grab a mug or few.

But despite the peacefulness, the watch kept patrolling the streets and walkways, staying guard at the gates, and keeping lookout at the Bell Tower. One could never know when the goblins of the Tight Torments would decide to return...

=====

Another year, another siege.

I wasn't planning to send the capies out the walls, but since Cusal was an archer and well, I guess we were out of arrows, he decided to do the thing DF archers do: head straight to the enemy. And there was no way the others would've just watch him being butchered without trying to stop it.

I'm surprised that Etur and Likot didn't fall. Likot was on the verge of passing out and Etur was completely unarmored (as were all the monks) and got some bad hits. Those legendary wrestlers monks were absolute beasts in combat, choking goblins all the time so that others could finish them. Pity the elephant men were too slow to arrive. Would've been great to see what their over-sized fists would've done.

Took a bit longer to get this one out. There's so many citizens now that it's a bit hard to keep focus and find someone to follow. Also not much else going on than the sieges. But now I should be at a point where I'll hop to adventure mode for a while.

So, if someone else than King Zultan has character ideas or other ideas, know is a good time to pitch them. It'll take a few days before I continue playing.

[King Zultan]

Damn we lost someone, hopefully Toady will fix that thing with the archers running into the battle when they run out of ammo.

At least you were able to save the other two.

[brewer bob]

Yeah, we might've had more trouble/deaths if all the goblins would've joined the fight. There was a whole squad of them just waiting on the hill, and a second one took their time to join the fray, so for half the fight it was "only" 20 goblins. There was quite a number of characters we've been following (the ex-mayor Likot, "Baron" Oddom, several monks) involved in the combat. Would've been a pity to lose them too.

("Fortunately" Cusal was already very old, so he would've probably died within a couple of years anyway.)