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[Heavy Flak]

From the files of Aryn Estetar
1st of Granite, 1058

Casualties: This last month has seen 6 deaths, 4 Dwarves 2 dogs.  These deaths were caused by the construction of the church roof.  According to the reports filed a wall was constructed incorrectly, and during it's deconstruction the roof suffered a structural collapse.  five workers were blasted off the roof, one of them landing in the center of the mosaic mid-service.  Kuli seems despondant about the deaths - as well he should, it's his damned church that lost me four workers - and has told his followers the month of Granite will be spent in prayer, in hopes that Zefon will bless them with a quick rebirth back at our Fortress.

Of interesting note, one of the workers thrown from the roof was a child.  He, along with a few others, landed in the emptied lake.  And he didn't suffer any injury at all!  That resilience, that springiness... how can I find a way to draft children into the army?  They'd be impervious to anything the Dread Camels could throw at them...

Punishment: The Budseal's feel the recent deaths are a cause of Rice's stoneworking crew.  To enact a punishment, they ordered we construct 3 items made of lead - a metal that has never graced our fortress.  Unable to make their lead trinkets, they threw one of Rice's newest members into the stockade for a month.  Quite uncalled for.  

Census: 118
Blueprints: The Current Lay of the Fortress

[ricemastah]

Rice's Journal
1st of Granite

How could that mandate have ANY relation to my STONEWORKERS? Lead is a metal, and we stonecrafters have nothing to do with metal. How could they have chosen to punish one of my workers. This is completely uncalled for, and I can only feel that politics are truly beginning to take over this fortress. I may have to reenter the political arena.

Edit: Also thank you for working on a new room for Rice. I can only imagine the awesomeness!

[ April 13, 2008: Message edited by: ricemastah ]

[Heavy Flak]

The Events of the 17th of Granite

Complacency had fallen over the Dwarves, who were happy wandering the court yard, waving and talking and laughing and hauling goods to the trade depot.  Word had come that the elves were coming, and though the majority may have disliked the Squeekies and their absurd obsession with nature, they goodies and exotics they brought helped most get over their xenophobia.  

Why no one noticed the Goblins skulking through the opened front gates is a question that was left for after the battle, while Stravitch made the rounds questioning Dwarves.  The alert was sounded by Speardwarf Earthenrazors who was practically bowled over by the squad of hammer and spear goblins.  While she fell she thrust her spear out, running one of the hammerers through.  She began shouting for help while she tried to remove the lodged spear from the twitching goblins chest.

Likot's pet dog announced her arrival to the scene by knocking another hammerer aside.  The goblin screamed as the mastiff clamped it's jaws around his right leg and shook him like a rag doll.  It eventually separated from his torso, a torrent of blood gushing from the hole.  His screams were silenced as Likot casually put a bolt through his eye.  

The full group of hammerers hit Earthenrazors and the recently arrived Castlearmors at once.  Castlearmor's femur was crushed by a hammer and he dropped to the ground screaming.  The goblin's squad commander managed to catch the Mastiff from the side, and crushed the dogs head like a cantaloupe.  

That would be the last thing the commander did.  A bolt struck him in the face and dropped him.  A second bolt caught another Goblin in the arm, stopping him from continuing to bludgeon Castlearmor's face.  

While Earthenrazors dealt with the remaining hammerers, Likot stalked passed him.  She was snarling, her crossbow held casually in front of her.  Whenever one of the fleeing pikesmen came within range she would release a bolt, aiming for the legs.  She hobbled them, one after the other, iron bolts sent through their ankles.  In her pursuit to punish the goblins, Likot didn't see the carelessness of Earthenrazor.

The remaining hammerer was run through, the spear exploding from the back of his leather armor.  The goblin glanced down at the wooden haft, then took a step forward, forcing it farther through his body.  He lifted his hammer and brought it down on the astonished speardwarves right shoulder, shattering it.  The hammer was raised again; dropped again, the left shoulder shattered as well.  Earthenrazors passed out from the pain, moments before the goblin died, bleeding out from a pierced heart.

***

From the top of the almost-finished church roof, Rice and Johnny sat and watched the battle.  They'd been trapped up their the whole time.  It was a safe location, they couldn't be spotted, and the both of them sat with their legs hanging off the lip of the roof, watching the battle unfold.  

"Ohh!  will'ya look'it tha Likot!  She jus' beat tha' gobbo's 'ead in wif' her crossbow.  Gawd."

The winds brought commotion from the distance, and Rice glanced over his shoulder in the direction it came from.  He did a double take, and shook Johnny's shoulder, "Hey, do you see that?  Is ... that the Elves?"
"Wot?  Elves, al-... Oh, noo..." Johnny groaned, covering his eyes with his hand.
"You think we should go down and tell them?  I mean, they're getting trampled by the Dread Camels..."
"Yeah, I kin' see it... nah, jus' let the soldiers be.  I dunna' think they could get down there fast enough to do anything.  Great.  Third season wi'out any trade..."

[Heavy Flak]

The Events of the 3rd of Slate, 1058

Istrath and his son Limul were walking back from the workshops.  Istrath was beaming, the radiance only a proud father shows at his child's excellent work.  It was with a touch of apprehension that they stopped for the disheveled, white haired woman at the foot of the stairs.  She held her pig tail cap in hand, and though her clothes appeared new, they were dusty and travel worn - the two signs of a new immigrant to the fortress.

"Good day, Gentleman," she said loudly and slowly.  "I am Wise Master Zefondesis, and I have lead quite a few pilgrims to your glorious country to worship at the Temple of Zefon, and..."

"Wait, what?  Country?  Did you just say..."
"Why... yes, sir," continued Zefondesis without pause, "I have a letter here, for a Mr. Estetar, and a carbon-copy for Countess Budseal.  The queen herself has deamed this outpost an subsidy of Stukos Matul."
"I'm sure they'll be pleased to hear, but... where are the others?  Didn't you say there were pilgrims?"
"Oh, yes!  We came from the north.  The gamesmen that traveled with us are hunting the indigenous life, and the others have loitered behind to help carry the results to the fort.  They will arrive shortly."

"Indigenous lif-... Oh.  Oh no!  LIMUL!  Come with me!"  
Wise Master Zefondesis looked utterly confused as Istrath and Limul rushed past her.  Her bewilderment grew as she heard shouting from above.  "Sulari!  SUUULARI!  Get your axe!  Civilians are by a pack of Dread Caaaammmeeel!"

***

At the end of the day, two children had been trampled, left behind as their parents fled.  A farmer was kicked off a cliff, and a maceman drowned to death as he attempted to crawl away from the Dread Camels, passing out face down in the stream.  It was only due to the selfless actions of the Hunter that the camels didn't claim more, the dwarf standing at the top of the hill, laughing and firing bolt after bolt until Sulari arrived.

2 trappers, a mason, 2 miners, a ranger, a lye maker, 3 peasants, a gem cutter, a dyer, and another member of Fountainspring Fisheries all made it to the fortress alive.  Bruised, and bloody, and terrified, but alive.

Edit: Fixed bolding issues.

[ April 15, 2008: Message edited by: Heavy Flak ]

[Heavy Flak]

The Events of the 5th of Felsite, 1058

The influx of bodies in the fort was despised by some; For Kuli, it was yet another blessing.  With a decided lack of jobs, those Dwarves that would normally be working, or carving, or cooking spent their times in the halls of Zefon, their prayers drowning out the sounds of construction from above.  

One sultry morning, the sounds of hammers stopped.  The masons came down from on high, shielding their eyes from the sun as they stared upwards at the church itself.  One by one, the worshipers curiosity got the best of them and they filed out in little groups.  Kuli was the last, The Good Book clutched in his hands, a smile on his face.  Rice stepped forward, wiping sweat from his brow.

"It's all finished, except for the steeple.  Once that's done we'll pitch the rest of the stone, stat hauling up the idols, and pull down the scaffolding.  It'll be finished completely."
"Brother Rice!  Your skill with stone is remarkable.  Just look at this wonder.    Zefon's praise be with you!"
"AND WITH YOU GOES ZEFON'S LOVE!" roared the crowd as Kuli drew Rice's head forward, placing a kiss on his forehead.

Rice smiled, wiping his forehead with the back of his head, "Yeah, ahh, thank you... anyway, we were going to set to work engraving the walls, and-"

Kuli raised a hand, shaking his head slowly.  "No, brother Rice.  Valania had expressed her deepest interests in doing that job.  With her death, I don't feel it right.  We will leave the stone untouched, in the chance she may one day come back to us.  Now enough talking - just stand here with me, and gaze upon the fruit of your labors."
   
   

***

OOC: Hah, just for fun, here's the only picture I have from the "fucked up" version of the roof.  I'll keep it in link format, but just keep this in mind - the the sides you see?  Yeah, those are the only two actual walls, the other side was completely hollow

[ April 15, 2008: Message edited by: Heavy Flak ]

[ricemastah]

Rice's Journal
5th of Felsite

The Church of Zefon has been completed and not without much rejoicing from many of the dwarves. Although I myself am only a casual worshiper I still stand in awe of the grand temple. And to think that I helped make it. It is enough to make a dwarf  ... giddy like an elf. I didn't just write that down. Anyway it would seem like nothing has actually been done about the traitor in our midst, well other than my new upgraded ROOM! But as for the fort I believe we are still in great danger.

OOC: You know some scenes remind me of There Will Be Blood, probably because I watched the movie recently. The church does look awesome though.

[Kuli]

I love it.  The House of Zefon is finally complete.  Good work, Heavy Flak.

Too bad bridges and windows don't show up in the 3Dwarf visualizer.

[Heavy Flak]

Here's a quick heads up about the next puzzle.  I'll be posting it around 8pm EST on Thursday, the 17th.  So, if you're interested in trying to solve it, check back at that time.  First one to get the answer posted wins stuff!

quote:Originally posted by Kuli:
<STRONG>I love it.  The House of Zefon is finally complete.  Good work, Heavy Flak.

Too bad bridges and windows don't show up in the 3Dwarf visualizer.</STRONG>

I know what you mean.  I've debated pulling the images into photoshop once all the scaffolding is taking down and crudely pasting in some stained glass windows, statues, and a bridge, but I'm pretty sure it would look just as hokey as it sounds.  Maybe if I used some lens flares, and a couple blur filters, and auto-corrected the contrast/brightness, and ...

[Kaelem Gaen]

Beautiful, the Church looks great.

[Heavy Flak]

The Events of the 22nd of Hematite, 1058

"Oh my gawd, oh gawd!  Look!  On tha' horizon!"
"What is it, what do you see Johnny?" Rice asked nervously.  "What's coming now?"
"Jus' the mos' beaut'ful sight ever!  It's the humans!  They're here ta' trade and the damned camels aren't anywhere in sight!"
"Johnny?  Geeze, uh, you don't have to cry... it's not that big of a deal..."

The celebration over the first merchants in many, many seasons to make it to the fortress unmolested was broken by a shrill cry from what had been mockingly dubbed Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Pit by Aryn, the place those no one loved were sent.  Standing on the retractable plank was one of the many new trappers, standing next to a very burly Axeman.  The Trapper was shouting excitedly, the axeman was wearing a pair of wings forged from wax, sticks, and feathers, menacing with gears of masterfully worked mechanisms and rope.

"EVERYONE!  Everyone!  Look, over here!  Prepare to be amazed, and astounded; astonished!  You are about to witness the virgin flight of the Workedchamber Amazing Mechano-Aviational Suit!  
"The Dwarf beside me is a Lost Lamb, this poor soldier who felt so ostracized by this very fortress he has sat at the outskirts, longingly looking in.  I have given him a chance of greatness, for after this, you will hail him as a champion!  A legend!  A veritable hero!
"And now, without further ado, TAKE FLIGHT!"

Laughing and drooling, the lumbering retard bounded towards the end of the plank.  He pulled the ropes hard, the wings sending great gouts of sand buffeted from their place on the bridge.  There was a moment after he jumped where he hovered in air, and the onlookers held their breath.  The next, he was screaming and grasping for anything within range.

He found Workedchamber, his meaty paws grasping tight at the trappers cloak.  They both tumbled downwards into the magma.  There was a pause, and a muted splash, and a small puff of smoke - dreams wafting back up to the fortress above.
 

[ April 17, 2008: Message edited by: Heavy Flak ]

[Heavy Flak]

The Events of the 10th of Malachite

Aryn awoke in the middle of the night with a start.  He lay in bed panting, staring at the ceiling to try and rid himself of the nightmare still lingering in his mind.  Slowly turning his head to the left, he was greeted by a pair of glowing red eyes in the darkness and a sharp, menacing smile.  The Cheshire visage slowly bloomed into the green skinned horror.  Iron boots, and the iron haft of his axe scraped gently on the stone as he took a step forward, then reached backwards to lock the door as an afterthought.

Aryn's breath caught in his throat.  He swallowed dryly and asked, his voice barely a whisper, "Who sent you?"
"That's.... not important, Mr. Estetar.  That's not a question of any importance at all."
"Then what is an important questions?"
"The important question is who I am.  I am Stasost Dreadhandled, and I bring death in my shadow.  Close your eyes, shyster, and I will make this quick."

Aryn did as told and shut his eyes tightly.  He heard the scrape of the axe as the goblin drew nearer.  Sweat blossomed on his brow.  When he heard the scraping stop, he slowly counted to three in his head and dove forward, past the goblin and to the opposite corner.  The axe came crashing down on the bed, sending splinters flying to either side of the room.  Stasost turned slowly, the same lazy grin on his face, but it soon faltered.  Aryn pushed off from the corner and charged him.
               

They tangled together and hit the floor hard, a tornado of limbs flailing about in the air.  Aryn managed to keep Stasost pinned to the floor by his neck and threw his lower body into the air, curling his knees up as he came down.  He caught the goblin in the seam between the iron greaves, shattering his knee.  As the Stasost squealed, Aryn pulled himself up and stomped on the goblins ankle, shattering it.  

He began to see red, his world, his dream, vanishing around him.  Snarling, he kicked Stasost in the head, breaking his jaw and turning his cries into wet gurgles.  Grabbing the goblin by the front of his chain mail he hauled him upwards and lifted the mesh shirt high, tangling the goblins head and arms in the metal links.  Holding it up with one hand, he began to punch hard at the goblins side and shattering ribs.  Eventually Aryn shoved the goblin against the wall, and screaming out a curse, drove his hand forward, and through, the goblins stomach.  Intestines spilled into the room.  Stasost died instantly.

Aryn limped from the room dragging the corpse behind him.  The hallway was packed with terrified Dwarves, their gaze flitting from Aryn's blood soaked formm and the body on the floor beside him.  Aryn squatted down slowly, and began rummaging through the goblins clothes.  With a triumphant cry he stood up, waving a now blood-stained piece of paper with "tsosatS" scrawled on it in an unsteady hand.  

"Do you see this?  Any of you who believe we are safe here, I will make sure, absolutely sure, you end up like Stasost here.  From this point on, consider us under lock down!  EVERYONE is a suspect until the traitor is caught!  Figure this out, I'm taking this body to butchers as an example."

Aryn ripped the note open and threw it to the ground.  He stalked off towards the staircase dragging the corpse behind him, a thin trail of blood following him.  The Dwarves gathered around, staring at the note on the floor:

code:

VPTJCFCHV JRZT ZTPVPIV
PC PIGF ZTVUUT VJMQ FMZW VAP VQCIJC
JZGPVZ APCL ICA ZVOQVH QJT ICAP ZVPPVH
VS RZTL WM JMWVX QJT ZVA IZVLMHHMW
ZGM JTF HHCL PVH GMR VQCIJC

Edit: various spelling mistakes and typos.

[ April 18, 2008: Message edited by: Heavy Flak ]

[Heavy Flak]

From the journal of Johnny Fountainspring
25th of Malachite, 1058

As soon as the traders left, I've been keeping my head down.  Aryn's been on the warpath ever since the assassination attempt and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I can understand where his paranoia is coming from.  He's made a bunch of mandates, the most important being: An insistence that all Dwarves lock their doors at night and no one leaves the compound without an escort.

Mayor Likot has began to worry me.  She constantly stalks the court yards when she's not training, her crossbow held to her chest, muttering about ... germs, the melting plagues, horrible tropical diseases.  She almost caught Stravitch and me hauling goods to Rosycats and Guildstern, but the pair of buffoons covered with their standard tricks.  I would have stopped completely until the coast was clear, but I've seen her snatching pipes, tubing, leather, green glass and charcoal from the various workshops at night, so I hope that in the event the crazy noble catches me with my hands in the proverbial cookie jar, a little blackmail will keep her mouth shut.

During this time of quarantine, Kuli has finished mining out his tomb to Zefon.  Personally, when I go I just want my corpse pitched into the magma to keep from having it desecrated or coming back in these haunted lands, but "To Mutilate a body is to mutilate the soul".  That just leaves them with their tombs, temporary resting places for those destined to come back.
   

When asked about the odd architecture, Kuli just smiled.  "It's designed to replicate a piece of string, looped together.  It has no beginning, no end.  It just is, Johnny.  Those of us that are placed down here?  It is just the beginning once more.  Now please, if you have a moment, help me haul these masterfully worked coffins?"

It seems the any dwarf that picks up a spear in this fortress is cursed.  Geshud suffered a sparring "accident", his head found crushed against the floor.  And just today, poor Logem, who had his arms broken by the goblin ambusher, has lost his mind.  He now streaks down the halls, screaming and laughing and crying and vomiting, his two broken arms flopping at his sides uselessly... such a disturbing sight...

[ April 17, 2008: Message edited by: Heavy Flak ]

[Heavy Flak]

From the Files of Aryn Estetar
24th of Galena

Death: The insane Spearman has ended his life.  There was an "accident" during the night where he "fell" into the baptism pools in the temple.  With his arms broken and useless, he just flapped them pitifully as he sank like a stone.  I've tasked the Fountainspring Fisheries to hook him and pull him out for cremation, but I honestly don't care if his bloated corpse comes out of the river.  It was enough trouble getting him in there in the first place.

With this assassination attempt, I've begun the process of making myself as as inconspicuous as possible.  My powers have already been mostly usurped by the Budseals, and Likot is becoming... quite eccentric in her daily affairs.  She's taken to wearing a set of green-glass goggles, and a human coat fully buttoned even in this heat.  She says it's to help fend off germs, I think the stress is getting to her.  To further my "decent" from power, I've taken up an apprentice and have taught him how to work the job descriptions, and in secret I pass tasks down to him to pass to the plebes.

Since my last act of putting this fortress on lockdown was met by approval from the Budseal's, we've had an excess of jobless Dwarves.  This is causing mischief  and lethargy, two things I hate.  As such, I've started making the rounds through he fortress and flagging all poorly constructed material - doors, chairs, tables, even the very beds our Dwarves sleep in, and are having them pitched into the lava.  

If we're to be confined to the inside, then I want our surroundings to be epic in workmanship.  This is keeping the stone masons, the engineers and the carpenters busy.  Even the cooks, because their cheaply made meals?  They're being thrown out.  They need the practice.  

The more people work, the less time they have to plot.  Perhaps I'll just have it all pitched out, and start over from scratch...

***

OOC: I apologize for the lack of updates, but this is a dead period.  Not a whole lot has happened at all, so I'm making the best of what we're given.

[ricemastah]

Rice's Journal
25th Malachite

Busy busy busy. Aryn is having us redo everything that isn't superb in its work-dwarf-ship. I've been churning out tables and chairs and doors, everything really. And if its not good enough? Gone, thrown into the magma like so much waste, like so much dead material soon to be forgotten, just like dwarves that toss themselves into the burning earth. What happens to them I wonder, what happens when they are consumed by the liquid rock?

The humans would surely think that we become part of the earth again, waiting for our time to return. What happens then to those of us who die at the hands (toes?) of the Dread Camels? What is it to be dwarf? These questions tire me. I have tables that need building.

[Heavy Flak]

From the journal of Johnny Fountainspring
13th of Limestone, 1058

Thank god for the Unions, or I'd be as overworked as Rice, Archin, Istrath, Lucy  and Kuli.  As the owner of Fountainspring Fisheries, my duties entail sitting on the bridge and running a line into the lake while those poor sods work from dusk 'till dawn carving and sculpting and smoothing.  

The gates were opened for all of a day when merchants were spotted on the horizon, but I hadn't even began taking tally of my inventory before the Dread Camels reached them.  The merchants are now dead or scattered, and worst of all their mules made it away safely, dragging all the wonderful trade with them.  My coffers are beginning to run dry.  Perhaps it's time to add petty theft to the list of my skills.

Stravitch has been watching the Budseal's with keen interest at my insistance.  They've had one of Kuli's own locked in the prisons for failure to meet their absurd lead deliveries.  When Aryn was approached, pleaded with to get her out, his repsonse was a shrug and a simple, "Perhaps if you spent less time in worship and more time at your anvil, these things wouldn't happen."  To fix morale, we might need to -

What's that clatter?  Is... the alarm?  The goblins have returned?  I need - <the>

***

quote:Originally posted by ricemastah:
<STRONG>Rice's Journal
The humans would surely think that we become part of the earth again, waiting for our time to return. What happens then to those of us who die at the hands (toes?) of the Dread Camels? What is it to be dwarf? These questions tire me. I have tables that need building.</STRONG>

Absolutely fantastic, Rice!  I love this!