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[Heavy Flak]

quote:Originally posted by Electrum:
<STRONG>Bah, I jumped the gun? I thought I could infer from Aryn's production orders in Johnny's journal that he was going to let the caravan go with a good deal.

Also, wholly agreed: I can't wait for the next installment of Kuli's stuff.

[ May 08, 2008: Message edited by: Electrum ]</STRONG>

I don't think you jumped the gun at all, they did get an excellent deal.  They also were seconds away from getting filled with bolts, because I (the guy running this game) have a real beef against those jerks from the mountains and my inability to just seize their goods.  

And if you think the background is cheery, you should see how people avoid my cube like the plague with this mask and this calendar hanging up on my wall.  I'm just one big bundle of sunshine over here  

[Kagus]

BWAHAHA!  Serial killer calendar...  I never knew such a thing existed.

But then again, I didn't know there was such a thing as a "hot pirate babes" calendar either.  I bet there's a dirt calendar out there.

[Heavy Flak]

From the files of Aryn Estetar
7th of Moonstone, 1060

I'm still fuming over those jerks Rice and Lucy.  To think, I took her under my wing, planned whole systems of mechanical innovations, gave her work!  Work!  I neglected so many other Dwarves so that beauty could stuff her coffer and feel a sense of accomplishment.  I turned my back to her shacking up with that playboy Rice, but this?  Stopping something that was Just and Right from being performed because that pair doesn't want "more blood shed on the sand"?  

She doesn't mind when we slaughter the foal Sodel the mule squirts out on a regular basis.  I don't see her crying when some hapless Kobold tries to pilfer our crafts and ends up taking a magma bath.  What should she care about some worthless rumormongering merchants.  Worthless....

My mood was not helped at ALL when I find out Istrath has kicked his assistants out of one of the Jewelers Workshops.  He's now muttering to himself, sketching pictures on parchment and rushing about the fort.  He pushed over one of the orphaned Budseal twins and took the shell he was carting off, apologizing profusely the entire way back to the workshop.  If we actually had any gems to cut I'd be more angry, but ... he's done good work.  Perhaps this burst of inspiration will give us something to be proud of for once.

[Kuli]

From the memoirs of Kuli Problemwalled

I had set out from the mountainhomes in order to find the legendary Zoden Zefon.  A very obvious problem arose right away - where was it and how could I find it?  No dwarf alive knew of Zoden Zefon's location, not even the few remaining followers of Zefon who I asked.  With a small degree of horror I realized that I would have to find someone who was old enough to remember Zoden Zefon from the days before its destruction.  That meant one of three very bad options - Elves, Goblins, or Dragons.  Since the latter two would certainly lead me only to a painful death, that meant I would have to seek out the Elves.  Unfortunately that option would certainly be dangerous as well, considering that the war had only recently ended and the Elves might still hold some animosity toward any dwarf who wandered into their forests.

Briefly, I was tempted to seek out the Elves of the northern forests, but I knew that was the wrong decision.  Of Zoden Zefon's location I had already learned only two things - that it was built next to a river, and that it was somewhere south of the mountainhomes.  That meant I would certainly have to seek the Elves of the south in Mafifidale, the very nation with which we had recently been at war.  There being no use in avoiding what I knew was necessary, I headed due south.

The journey south was a long one, and the road went through vast regions of uninhabited wilderness.  Many times I was ambushed by wild beasts, no doubt thinking a lone dwarf would make an easy meal.  The first time it happened, I found myself surrounded by a pack of wolves.

   

I did not wish to kill them.  Zefon teaches us to preserve life.  However, that means preserving not only the lives of others but my own life as well.  With a heavy heart I drew out my steel short sword and prepared for the wolves' attack.  A peaceful dwarf I may be, but the war had taught me how to use a blade and how to kill quickly.  It was over in minutes.  The forest was covered in blood and on all sides were the dismembered remains of what were once living creatures.  I buried the wolves and prayed over their shallow graves for Zefon's forgiveness before continuing on my journey.

After weeks of travel I entered a forests that seemed very...different.  I felt as if I was being watched at all times by someone hidden from my sight, and there was a strange sound in the air as though the trees were whispering to one another.  There could be no mistaking it - I had entered the land of the Elves.

   

It is common and even expected for us dwarves to hate the Elves.  However, there is at least one good thing about them that should be recognized - the Elves can be unusually forgiving.  No, they don't forgive and forget so easily because they are simply that nice.  The fact is that Elves live so long that they do not experience time the same way that we do.  If something happened yesterday, as far as they are concerned it might just as well have happened a hundred years ago.  Of course the converse is true, and sometimes they can hold a grudge for millenia thinking that the offense had occurred only recently, but it is thanfully rare.  And so it was that when I entered the forest of the Elves they did not immediately kill me.

A squad of Bowelves materialized suddenly out of the forest as if from thin air and took me prisoner.  I was actually quite relieved for they treated me with only the usual every-day animosity they show for dwarves.  It seemed they had indeed mostly forgotten the war which had ended only just months earlier.  I was bound with rope reed and brought before the local Druid who would decide what to do with this intruder.  I expected this.  The Druid I greeted with polite words and told her I came with an offering of peace.  I asked my captors to search my backpack and they would find the gift that I had brought.  It was an exceptional quality silver amulet.  Engraved on it was an image of an oak tree also in silver.  I had forged it myself before leaving the mountainhomes just for this purpose.

The Druid was placated but skeptical.  She asked me for what purpose I came to her woods.  I explained how I was on a religious pilgrimage to find a temple that had been lost for centuries and that I believed only they, the Elves, could guide me to it.  With tears in my eyes I begged the Druid to help me fulfil my master's dying wish.  She was quiet for a short while, staring aimlessly into the air as only an elf can.  When she spoke again the Druid said she decided to take pity on me and help if she could.  So I politely asked her if she had ever known of a dwarven city or mountainhall called Zoden Zefon or the House of Fountains.  The Druid closed her eyes and searched her long memory for several minutes.  After a time she opened her eyes and replied that she not only knew of such a place but had even visited there as a diplomat!

 

My heart leaped.  Could it be this easy to find the lost House of Zefon?  My joy ebbed and gave way to skepticism.  I asked the Druid if she was certain it was Zoden Zefon, and if there was any detail she could give me that would prove it.  She then told me of an engraving she had seen there.  It was a beautiful, masterful image of a female dwarf holding a small child.  The Druid had inquired about it and was told by the dwarves of Zoden Zefon that the image was called "The Righteousness of Pants" and it was a depiction of their goddess Zefon.  There could be no mistake, and my joy returned.  Eagerly I asked if the Druid remembered where the lost mountainhall was located.  She replied that she could not remember the exact location but that she did know it was somewhere in a desert to the north of Mafifidale.

When the Elves were satisfied that I posed no threat to them, they returned my belongings and escorted me out of the forest.  The information I received from the Druid was somewhat vague but more than I could have hoped for.  Zoden Zefon was in a desert north of Mafifidale and south of the mountainhomes.  That, combined with the information that it was built next to a river, narrowed down the location considerably.  I would start searching with the largest desert in the region, The Soaked Dunes.  There, by the grace of Zefon, I would fulfil my mission.

 

---------------

(Some of the images didn't come out right, so I've fixed them.  Looks like photobucket prefers .PNG to .JPG files.  Good to know.)

[ May 08, 2008: Message edited by: Kuli ]

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 11th of Moonstone, 1060

The fortress shook at the very foundation.  Rocks and dust, rattled loose from the quaking earth, rained down upon the civilians.  Pandemonium was loosed upon the Dwarves as they clamored top-side to escape the inevitable cave-in.  The first few to make it into the sun froze in their tracks.  They began to push backwards, down the steps and inside, bowling over or trampling the poor souls caught in the stairwell.  

Sulari made it top side first of the soldiers, her eyes widening in horror.  She could see quite clearly over the wall the terrible face and bared chest of a titan.  Even at such a distance he was massive, his lumbering gait causing the ground to quake and tremble under his step.  

His voice boomed, echoing off the walls inside the courtyard.  "I.  Am.  Thadar Waythunders!  Word has traveled south of your pathetic ventures.  These halls are mine.  Your riches, mine!  Lay in the sand before me and I will ferry you swiftly to Œbmat's magma channels."

"Excuse me, Captain Sulari, Sir."

Sulari's concentration on the titan was broken.  She turned, offering a weak smile, "Sergeant Towersacks.  A pleasure.  I'm a little busy now, so if it's not important..."

"It is, sir," said Towersacks.  She relaxed her stance, pointing over the walls towards the Titan trundling towards their position.  "I'd like to offer up my spears as the first wave.  We might be able to end this quickly if we can pierce something vital.  At the least, we can hold him until you round up the reinforcements."
"Sergeant, there are only three of you, and..."
"If there's ever a time to show that the Spearmasters Curse is broken, it's now."

Sulari smiled.  "Alright, Sergeant.  Be safe."
"Yes sir, we'll do you proud."

***

Sergeant Towersacks was true to her word.  She was at the front of the small phalanx, leaning casually on her spear.  Corporal Guildslide and Private Varen flanked her, wearing their nervousness on their sleeve.  As the titan met them in front of the trade depot, he leaned down, his great face leering.  The taunts he was beginning to utter were cut off, a terrible shriek rattling the walls.  Sergeant Towersacks had stabbed her spear through his right eye.

Her blade was a blur, keeping the half-blinded Titan off balance as she pricked his elbow, his stomach, and finally his knee, the blade sticking in the joint.  Varen, acting more from training than intelligence, charged the Titan, stabbing him in the thigh, but was sent sprawling in the sand.  Her spear lost, Sergeant Towersacks began bashing him with her steel shield, spitting out curses.

Varen hauled himself to his feet in time to see Towersacks knocked aside.  The titans great fist was raised high, aiming to crush the obnoxious dwarf.  Sprinting, Varen slid into place between them, digging the butt of the spear into the sand; the Titan couldn't react fast enough, skewering his elbow through with the steel blade.  

Howling, the Titan lifted him into the air, but Varen held steady.  As he dangled far above the ground, he swung his weight from side to side, wrenching and twisting the spear, much to the horror of the Titan Waythunders.  But even with their initial success, the Titan's size was pushing them back towards the entrance, knocking them aside in his rage.  Varen, still dangling, let loose an excited shout.

Stravitch had arrived to the battle.

The stout figure sprinted across the sand.  In his mottled chainmail and with a small bronze mace, he wasn't even deemed a threat, not like the spear-slingers.  Stravitch announced his presence to Titan Waythunders by smashing Sefolkubuk through his ankle, fist sized bone fragments exploding out from the other side.  

As the titan began to topple forward Stravitch readied himself.  He held his mace on high, and around him, the air began to crackle, to sizzle.  Varen wisely let go and hit the ground rolling, and Sergeant Towersacks took a step back, ducking behind her shield.  

"FOR THE BLOOD RED SUN GOD!"

The Titan was lifted off his immense feet at the impact, his body mangled.  The Titan landed a few feet away, unconscious on the ground.  Stravitch slowly made his way over as the others picked themselves off the ground.  They watched as he calmly lifted Sefolkubuk, and smashed it into the Titans face.  

And again.  

And again.  

Wiping the blood off onto a rag at his side, he let the mace drop back into the lanyard at his hip.  Sergeant Towersacks, breathing hard, was finally able to retrieve her spear.  Sulari bounded topside with her axe squad, staring at the mangled titan.  

"Captain Fillwhips, I'm glad you were able to assist.  I saw you finish that beast, and ... well, I feel you've earned yourself a title and a commendation.  With no objections, you'll be here-after known as Captain Stravitch Fillwhips, The Gloved Shred of Steel."

Stravitch grunted in acknowledgment.  "I hope you don't think I came here for glory, Sulari."
"Of course not, you were-"
"If you want to reward someone, reward Towersacks and her crew, they did the real work.  I was only passing through."
"Pass-...passing through?  What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh," said Stravitch.  "I guess you didn't hear in the uproar.  I spotted a mass of goblins in the distance, we're under siege.  I came to ask Towersacks that when she finished with her giant, to head to the eastern gates and take up stations there."

Sulari groaned, covering her eyes with her hands.  "The gobbos are here now, also?  To arms!  Everyone!  Eastern Gates, move!"

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 13th of Moonstone, 1060

Commandant Vulturespiders marched in front of the assembled goblin macemen.  He hated this place, the sand, the unbearable heat.  Maybe that was why the stunts lived underground; to hide from the environment in the only terrible places the Greater Races allowed them to develop in.  

Unlike his troops, Commandant Vulturespiders was dressed lightly in raccoon leather, the heavy morning stars the shock troopers wielded replaced by his fathers crossbow.  He mopped his brow, his squinting as he glanced upwards towards the harsh sun.  He barred his tusks in displeasure.  

Curse all these idiots, especially that foul half-breed Poisonskins he thought miserably.  He shielded his eyes and watched in the distance, sighing with relief as the giant frame of the ogre/goblin hybrid marched stoically across the wastes.  

Unlike the other races, the goblins considered half-breeds, goblins considered half-breeds to be genetically superior at the insistence of their demon gods.  Poisonskins was dressed well in what iron armor would fit over his bulky frame.  As he sauntered to the front, Commandant Vulturespiders saluted briskly and stood at attention.

"Good..." rasped Poisonskins, his voice unusually epicurean for one of the Dark Towers.  "Very good, Commandant.  The Crossbows are marching in first to soften their numbers.  Hopefully that bitch Sulari will be made a pincushion before your troop arrives.  You do remember your objective, yes?"

"Yes.  We're to grab he Leopardknight brat at Olsmo's wish.  All others are secondary.  If we can't grab him, we're not to return."

"Correct.  Here..." Poisonskins pulled a small envelope from within his plate mail.  "When you've got the child and are away from this cursed fortress, follow the instructions within."

Commandant Vulturespiders took the envelope, one eyebrow raising quizically.  He pointed to the large number four inked crudely on the front. "What is this four?"

"Don't be an idiot, Vulturespiders," snapped Poisonskins.  "Follow the instructions exactly once you're cleared of the fortress.  Lord Olsmo will NOT be pleased otherwise."

"Yes, sir." grumbled the Goblin Commandant.  He slapped at a gnat on his neck, sourly watching the half-breed saunter over the hill, towards the waiting group of swordsmen.  "You heard him!" barked Vulturespiders. "Get the kid and be wary of that bitch Clappedrooms.  Get in formation.  We move soon."

[Heavy Flak]

First Battle, 19th of Moonstone, 1060

Sulari and her squad mates frantically dodged arrows from the marksmen.  Iron bolts clanged off of shields, off of helmets, or ricocheted off of the stone wall behind them.  The goblins jeered and fired their bolts heedlessly, entertained by the dodging, swearing Stunts.  

Their was a high pitched scream, and an explosion of blood and intestines.   One of the goblins dropped, a hefty bolt dangling loosely from the wide hole in her back.  Cold, muffled laughter erupted from one of the gate towers.

"SNIIIPER!" Screamed one of the goblins.  Idiocy caused one to turn towards the tower, to try and raise his crossbow up and take aim, but he was plugged through the eyes.  What brains he had showered the rocks behind him.  He fell.  

"Get under the arch!  We'll be safe!  FIRE!  FIRE!  TAKE OUT SULARI!"

Their morale already starting to break, they charged the Dwarven axeswingers.  They fired on the run, their bolts going awry, a third goblin dropped by Mayor Likots unnervingly accurate aim.  They met in front of the arch in a clash of iron and bronze.  

The goblins, ill prepared for close combat, we're soon routed.  Likot picked those off that evaded Sulari's rending axe; within minutes, the sand was littered with body parts and dropped weapons.  Sulari jogged back in, her axe-squad following behind, to prepare for the second wave.

***

Second Battle

The goblins were certainly tricky.  They'd learned from their past mistakes and attacked from the north with swords, and from the south with elite macemen.  Sulari, deciding quickly, took her squad north to the maintenance shaft to meet the swordsmen.

Before Towersacks and her group could reach the macemen, Mayor Likot had dropped four by herself.  They were shot through the throat, each fired bolt followed by her hollow laugher.  Towersacks and Varen, taking advantage of the confused goblins, began stabbing at whatever fleshy bits were open, specifically targetting stomachs and kidneys...

***

"No!  No no no no!!"  Vulturespiders screamed in horror, the steady cha-chock of his crossbow momentarily drowning out the sounds of battle around him.  Even when the Dwarves weren't facing him, they seemed to be guarded by some devine force, his bolts bouncing harmlessly off of armor, or missing them by a hairs width.  He watched, eyes wide with terror, as his squad of maces were skewered by spear and bolt, the majority soon lay twitching in the sand.

"Retr-" began to form on his lips, and then stopped.  What would be the point?  If he was to flea, he'd be placed on a spit alive, his life nothing except for a momentary bit of entertainment for Lord Olsmo.  He saw a lone dwarf sprinting towards him, her spear held in front of her.  Vulturespiders continued to fire, bolts clanging harmlessly off her armor, his guts growing cold.

He pulled the trigger uselessly well into death.  Sergeant Towersacks had him skewered on the end of her spear.  She waited until the writhing stopped, then casually kicked his corpse off the end of her blade.  The spear flashed in a quick arc around her, goblin blood splattering in a circle around her.  A cursory glance showed that no more green skins moved among the red sand.  Placated, she turned and walked back towards the fortress.

[Heavy Flak]

From the journal of Johnny Fountainspring
2nd of Opal, 1060

With the goblins cleared out and the titan dead we've gone back to a more normal life style.  This means lots of mining, lots of fishing, and for the majority of workless crafters, stripping corpses.  If it wasn't four their tireless effort in stripping the green skins and burning the clothes and saving the metal, I estimate we'd no longer see the harsh sand - it would just be a sea of iron, silk and leather as far as the eye could see...

Akroma has been downright perky lately.  With close to thirty goblins dead in battle, and that Titan rotting out in the sun, he's got more bones than he knows what to do with.  Already one of the crafts shops has been covered in hastily sketched pictures of Titan Totems, of a two full sets of ceremonial bone armor made from goblin bones, of decorating our statues with their ribs as a show of dominance.  I'm just afraid he'll begin to take up taxidermy next, the last thing I need is to find preserved Dread Camels lining the halls...

Dinner was interrupted by Limul Leopardknight coming in to announce loudly, "Papa's finished!  It's done!"

A group of us rushed down to the workshops, helping the dehydrated jeweler out and to the mess where we gave him food and drink.  His work was brought with him, an animal trap crafted out of Yellow Zircons, menacing with spikes of rope reed and maple and hanging rings of rhyolite.  Our masterful piccolo was depicted on it in yellow zircon, and crafted out of turtle shells were two fire snakes, looped endlessly as they grasped one another's tail.

When he was finally able to speak, Istrath was asked what he called this trap.

"Bandcouncils the Paddle of Domination"

Clearly, this is a metaphor for the power struggle among our numbers.

[Kagus]

Paddle of Domination...  

Is this place a British boarding school?

[Electrum]

Wonderful - Stravitch is really Varen's foil. Or his savior, since I'm pretty glad he's still around.

And I like the idea of him desperately trying to jimmy his spear out from between a pair of huge knuckles under a beating sun, still groggy from the battle and urgently needed at another one. At least he can be proud of himself at the end of the day.

[Heavy Flak]

quote:Originally posted by Kagus:
<STRONG>Paddle of Domination...  

Is this place a British boarding school?</STRONG>

I'm just thankful it wasn't Erith the Engraver that made the artifact.  As nice and clean as it was by Istrath, the exact same artifact with the exact same engravings on it could have been made absolutely filthy when constructed by that pervert.

quote:Originally posted by Electrum :
<STRONG>Wonderful - Stravitch is really Varen's foil. Or his savior, since I'm pretty glad he's still around.

And I like the idea of him desperately trying to jimmy his spear out from between a pair of huge knuckles under a beating sun, still groggy from the battle and urgently needed at another one. At least he can be proud of himself at the end of the day. </STRONG>

Varen held his own pretty well.  He took a couple nicks from the mace goblins, but nothing more than bruises.  I'm actually a little irritated Stravitch came up and finished it off, because Sergeant Towersacks was well on her way to getting a much-deserved title.  But alas, yet another megabeast was stolen from her, much like what happened with the dragon.

[Electrum]

quote:Originally posted by Heavy Flak:
<STRONG>

I'm actually a little irritated Stravitch came up and finished it off, because Sergeant Towersacks was well on her way to getting a much-deserved title.  But alas, yet another megabeast was stolen from her, much like what happened with the dragon.</STRONG>

The Curse of the Speardwarves is that they're redshirts - they're other people's punching bags and arrowcatchers, and some axedwarf or bull-necked sheriff will barge in and takes credit at their moment of victory.

[Heavy Flak]

From the files of Aryn Estetar
1st of Granite, 1061

We've been here for a decade now.  A full ten years stationed in this inhospitable waste.  While things haven't gone exactly as I have intended, I'm content.  We've carved out a niche of our own, and we've managed to give the nobility something that will never be forgotten.  We're the Dwarves that have actually accomplished something with our lives, those that have fought and bled and died for something to call our own.

And by Lenod's name, we've actually succeeded.  

Population: 155
Estimated Wealth: 1,652,390monies
Blueprints: The current lay of the fort

[Heavy Flak]

The Events of the 2nd of Granite, 1061

Most found it morbid, but Akroma didn't mind.  He even volunteered for the job of corpse stripping, a request that got him weird looks from the others, but made quite a few friends as they were allowed to stay away from the piles.  This also gave him the first pick of the best bones... or at least a skull or two to secret away.

He whistled quietly to himself as he picked through the bodies, eventually finding one still dressed.  The goblin was in light leather armor, a crossbow clutched in his clasped-frozen hands.  The better part of ten minutes were spent stripping the leather from him, hauling off the pants and the vest, kicking t

he iron helm away and in to the sand.  As he began to pull the now-naked green skin away, something caught his eye.  

There was a small envelope stuck inside the leather armor...

***

"Quiet!  Quiet!" Archin shouted.  Ignored at first, the others began to listen as she clanged the flat of her pick against one of the iron statues in the mess hall.  

The union leaders had been roused from their slumber, the message quite urgent.  Aryn was missing - and it was deemed best by all assembled that he should be left out of this meeting, at least for the time being.  

"Can everyone see?  Okay, crowd in.  Look, Akroma found this in - Akroma?  Here, put it on the table, let everyone get a good look."

Akroma did as asked, sliding the paper towards the grouped Dwarves:

code:

 terib uohel rtrse nyuto agmpr erueo efhnw horxx xerco aeeld bmore honeh sxlop
 lomee menmt naleh odgos tadih odmra bnoit tuoof tsrud oegms ngtur crbbe tsfuw
 coist oalso olivd rbtyh kp
At the bottom of the page, in the lower left corner, was this tiny symbol.  
    

"Does anyone know what this could mean?"

No one answered, their bleary eyes locked onto the string of letters on the parchment.  Eventually Akroma sighed. "I know, I don't get it either.  Here's what I propose.  It's been months since that battle so I doubt this is time-sensitive... I say we all make a copy of this letter then go back to bed.  In the morning we start posting these in the meeting halls, get the rest of the populace to help us.  The last thing we need is to be caught even more unaware by the greenskins."

There was a murmer of agreement, and the union leaders set to work, laboriously copying the note.  In the morning, they set to work tacking it up around the fortress.

***

OOC: The spacing that is in Cipher #4 is NOT important.  I just put those in to make it easier to read and are neither a subtle hint nor word breaks.  For the purpose of this puzzle consider it one long string of letters.

[ May 11, 2008: Message edited by: Heavy Flak ]

[Metalax]

After the meeting about this new message, Vash headed back down to the smelters to continue the neverending task of melting down the metal from the constant goblin attacks. Grabbing a shield to send into the fires, he stumbled on a streak of goblin blood that had fallen from the shield losing his grip. As the shield hit the ground, it spun before coming to rest.

Cursing Vash was about to grab it up to throw into the smelter, before pausing and pulling out a copy of the message. Sure enough there was the spiral design at the bottom copied from the original. He quickly set to, spiraling the letters of the message.

quote:the leopardknight boy must not be harmed deliver him to lord olsmo personally baxunostotho is eating too much power our efforts must be redoubled before he can grow much stronger xxx

Eyes widening, he headed for the church, Kuli needed to hear about this.

**-
Add Vash as one of the furnace operators, preferably another Zefon worshipper.

[ May 11, 2008: Message edited by: Metalax ]