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[Kuli]

Damnit, the system is out to get me!  How long is it before poor Kuli becomes a martyr?  Aryn, Johnny, Stravitch - all of them are going to theirs if they keep persecuting the Children of Zefon!

By the way, Heavy Flak, his name is Problemwalled.  You keep spelling it as Problemwelled.

[ricemastah]

Oh Rice, ever am I glad that you decided to quit playing at politics! You never need to worry about problems that Kuli must deal with. It must suck having the people in charge against you.

[Heavy Flak]

quote:Originally posted by Kuli:
<STRONG>By the way, Heavy Flak, his name is Problemwalled.  You keep spelling it as Problemwelled.</STRONG>

*coughs* Errr, that would be a problem, but as you can see... somehow all records of those errors have vanished.  I'm going to pretend they never happened, because it's obvious I'm infallible and couldn't have done that  

[Heavy Flak]

From the journal of Johnny Fountainspring
22nd of Sandstone, 1062

The merchants have left, their goods packed and their bounty large.  In the good cheer that merchants brought, the fact that Kuli has been imprisoned went unnoticed for days.  

To be fair, I wouldn't have known at all except that Stravitch did the arresting.  We had words, The Captain and I, but in the end I know he's right.  Aryn's authority must appear unchallenged to keep the peace.  At least for a while; he still has the majority of the military following his order, and even if they were to turn, there is still his private guard.  I doubt they could could hold a candle to Old Stravitch, or even Sulari, but they could seriously damage us, and possibly keep that weasel safe enough that he could escape.  He's got a silver tongue, and the last thing we would need is the Nobility of the Mountain Homes giving him a hundred swords and license to march in and butcher us like cats for whatever lies he spread.  

Though I may not agree with Kuli's religion, or the way he's taken his life since we've founded this fortress, I like him as a person.  He's always been pleasant to me, and he's always championed for The Common Dwarf - a noble cause that directly reflects on my imports and exports.  Because of this, I've managed to afford him one luxury in his internment.  Vash, and the rest of his metalworkers, are allowed to bring him food and drink after hours, to talk to him through the slats in the heavy iron door.  It's not much - but I know well, hearing the voice of a friend and getting a hot meal can help you survive years in the clink.  

I hope you come out in one piece, Child of Zefon.  Godspeed.

[Heavy Flak]

From the journal of Johnny Fountainspring
12th of Timber, 1062

Duchess Rocksmortal found out about Kuli, and was incensed.  Her anger was first turned to her husband, the man who made the mandate in the first place.  But I'm to assume that he fessed up quickly about Aryn and his thugs bullying him into pressing a mandate for useless Billion items into something bigger.  She then went to Aryn to express her displeasure, but that lasted only ten minutes.  She left his office pale white, her hands shaking.  

This anger came out in an outburst at Dodik-Come-Lately's, where she had been drinking heavily.  My little birds have said Mookie, having served her many drinks, went to one of the stoneworkers and asked for his assisstance in getting the drunk Duchess out of the brothel before she caused a scene.  

Sadly, that's just what happened.  As the stoneworker came to ask her to leave, she hit him in the chest, laying him flat on the floor.  A scuffle started, and Stravitch left a few of Aryn's guard on their backs - the Duchess having sobered up enough to get the hint and leave.  

A body was found by the magma vent.  It had been there a while, rotting in the hot sun and that's why it was even discovered at all; by the stench raising up from the pit.  No one had been down there in years and the stairway down had become damaged, leaving Archin to quickly carve a staircase.  It was the missing miner Fikod, and it looks like he'd died from having his head smashed open.

At least that's what Bertrand said.  But what would the old loon know, Fikod was found at least a good twenty feet from where he landed.

[Heavy Flak]

The Events of the 19th of Timber, 1062

"EHhehhEHEHehehE!  COME BACK HERE!"  

Glassmaker Wardswords glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes wide with terror.  She'd been carrying a bag of sand from Topside down to the workshops to keep working on the endless Green Glass Blocks that Aryn had ordered, when she heard the scream, terrible and frightening.  

The Duchess was baring down on her, her beard streaked with spittle, eyes wide and bloodshot.  She was gibbering, hands held in front of her in claws.  Strings of greenish goo were leaking from the corners of her eyes like tears, dribbling from the corners of her mouth to splatter on her clothes and the stone.

Ribs crunched as the Duchess Rocksmortal tackled the glassmaker.  The air was expelled from her chest as the Duchess hit her, forcing out the last bit in their lungs as they crashed into the ground.  Covering her face with her arms, Glassmaker Wardswords cowered as the Duchess slowly rose to her feet, cackling madly.  She lifted one foot up, hovering as she aimed for the glassmakers face.

There was an explosion of blood and bone.  her legs were disconnected from the body, flying to splatter against the stairwell.  She fell hard, dashing her skull against the stone floor, blood and brains leaking out.  Even in death, her smile stayed in place, her eyes wide and glassy.

Glassmaker Wardswords stared upwards, her face and arms splattered in blood.  She saw Stravitch wiping the blood off his mace onto a nearby farmer.  The old Captain looked down at her, shaking his head disgustedly.

"Get back to work, Glassmaker.  You've had your fun for today."

[Heavy Flak]

!!ATTENTION!!

It's that time again folks!  Crypto #6 will be posted on Sunday June 8th, around... oh, let's say 2pm EST.  Standard rules apply: solve it and make a request, don't and something 'bad' will happen.

And before any of you jump in and remind me that nothing has happened after the last one, will - I haven't forgotten.  It's building up.  Oh, is it ever.

!!END ATTENTION!!

EDIT: GOD you guys!!  Stop pointing out my errors!!  Isn't it obvious I NEVER make any?  

[ June 06, 2008: Message edited by: Heavy Flak ]

[ricemastah]

Uhhh, Sunday June 8th? Or Friday June 6th? Cause today is the 6th and its Friday. At least according to the little thing at the bottom of my laptop

[Electrum]

Thanks for posting those! And with everyone's artifacts, too. I'm inspired by you changing your dwarves' job titles, I should try that too sometimes. Merkil as Grasshopper is wonderful.

Don't you mean the 8th, though?

[Heavy Flak]

quote:Originally posted by Electrum:
<STRONG>Thanks for posting those! And with everyone's artifacts, too. I'm inspired by you changing your dwarves' job titles, I should try that too sometimes. Merkil as Grasshopper is wonderful.

Don't you mean the 8th, though?</STRONG>

I think I might go back and add at the bottom WHAT exactly the artifacts are (with a picture to them) and both last names and titles.  I'm also debating revamping the military ranks to be something more concrete, and possible sketching out who does what with whom, who likes who, what their ranks, etc are... Anyway, check back to that post come this evening if anyone's got an interest in more information and be on the lookout for my chicken scratch popping up in a completely useless fluff piece in the future.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 9th of Moonstone, 1062

Merkil had finally graduated from working the pumps on the 1st of the month, and for that, he was unbelievably proud.  Maybe things HADN'T been going exactly as planned when he made the trek east to join The Polished Trumpet.  The nobility here had an unsettling way of dying early, and after hearing of how the Duchess's life had ended hearing her husband had gone into a depression Merkil had a sneaking suspicion he'd be meeting Captain Fillwhip sooner than later.

But whatever pride he had felt on the 1st had deteriorated by the 9th.  He'd been put in plate mail and given a silver hammer and a silver bucket.  Blinking at the Major, Merkil asked, his voice unsure, "What... is the bucket for?"

"You're to fill it with water," Explained the older soldier.  "Then you're to take the water to the top of the parapet, and throw it over the side.  When you've finished, you're to go get another bucket and do it again."

"But what about this armor, and this hammer?" Merkil asked, his confusion growing. "I thought I was in training.  Why did you give them to me if I'm just a water hauler?"

"Oh!  Of course, you're to do it in your armor, and with your hammer.  Oh no... it seems your bucket is empty.  That should be fixed."

And so Merkil had hauled water.  And was still doing it.  He was drenched in sweat, his legs aching as he trudged up the stone steps.  Reaching the top, he was surprised to see the old Major.  One hand was behind his back, the other stroking the long white beard that hung well past his belt.  

"You seem depressed with your job.  What's wrong."
"I- I didn't think this would be my training!  I came to learn how to fight, to be honorable.  And all I've done is menial tasks.  This is ... this is beneath me!  I guarded the caravan I came with, I know how to swing a hammer, I don't need to do these jobs, that's what the other Dwarves are for!"
"Hmm... I see your point.  Yes.  You're right.  Please.  Would you throw the water across the stones?"

Merkil looked at him suspiciously.  "Why would I throw the water over the stones?"

Major ---- DayCovering stepped away from the wall, walking until he was fifteen paces away from his student.  "Because you're correct.  I'm going to give you your first weapons training.  And you can't do it holding a bucket, now can you?  Dump the water, and attack me."

Merkil did as told, throwing the water across the stones, the bucket clattering into the corner.  Merkil grinned through the T-Slit in his helmet, pulling his hammer into hand.  He sized up the old soldier, tightening his grip on the warhammer.  Major ---- DayCovering pulled Sombith Kiron free, holding it loosely in one hand.

With a battle cry, Merkil charged forward, his hammer held on high.  Major DayCovering took slow steps forward, his hammer held low, eyes bored underneath the thick white eyebrows.  As they neared, Merkil took a swing - surprise showing on his face as the Major sidestepped and dropped down to one knee, the silver hammer swinging harmlessly over his head.  His eyes grew wider as he tried to turn and found himself sliding, his iron boots losing traction on the wet stone.  

As Merkil went flailing past, The Major rose quickly.  Sombith Kiron collided lightly against the recruits chest, but still he went tumbling, sprawling heavily on the ground.  

The sun was blocked by the silhouette of his Mentor.  The old man shook his head slowly - his hammer back at it's thong.  "That is why you carry water.  To build up the strength to wear your armor, to increase the agility to overcome surprises.  What did I tell you before?  Patience is the greatest of virtues.  Never attack first, always wait for the first blow.  Now fetch your bucket.  I believe you spilled the last one."

[Heavy Flak]

From the notes of Bertrand the Mad
28th of Moonstone, 1062

Akroma and Dojango have confirmed that more have begun to appear in their dreams, worshiping with them.  I've had them keep notes on the events, and there are some discrepancies (as is to be expected), but the important details are in both of their dreams: the same people, the same outfits, the same being, hidden and unseen - The Star God.  Of note, The Duchess and Mookie appeared, most likely spurred by the heavy ingestion of rum supplied to Dodik-Come-Lately's.  It's a shame the Duchess ran afoul the Great Murderer, Stravitch.  I'd love to see how the highborns react to these tests.  

With Akroma generating so much powder, I've been dumping it outside.  I've been throwing it in the magma.  I've been using it to store the corpses of cats.    And I've been planting it in the sand with seeds.  Up until now, there were no results, nothing.  I've just been looking for ways to get rid of the foul stuff when I'm not feeding it to the others.  

While working late tonight, I heard the most pitiful of mews.  I searched the hallway but couldn't find anything... but when I returned to the lab...

The jar had fallen off the counter, and stalking towards me was the corpse I stuffed into it, the skin rotted and hanging in tatters, the belly bloated to bursting.  Oh god.  The terrible thing yowled at me, dust and maggots spewing from it's maw, and lunged at me.  Without thinking, I punched it out of the air, sending it sprawling on the floor.  

It came at me again, tearing a chunk out of my thigh with it's rotten teeth.  I was able to grab a flask from the counter and ... beat the creatures head in.  I swept the corpse into a bin with the broken jar, and dumped it into the magma.  The others need not know about this, but I fear that... the land around us may be trying to drive us out.  Perhaps we've made too many changes.

[Kuli]

Cool.  Zombie cat.  Did you use a utility to create it?

I've been playing Pokemon Pearl lately and decided to name all my pokemon with DF names.  For example, my Empoleon is named Urist and my Luxray is named Bomrek.  But most importantly, I decided to give my Palkia the name Zefon.  It turned out to be an appropriate name since Zefon brought me back from the brink of death multiple times when I fought the Elite Four.

[Heavy Flak]

The Events of the 27th of Opal, 1062: Part 1

Mayor Likot, flanked by her marksmen-in-arms, stalked through the south gate on their way back from Dodik-Come-Lately's.  Her troops were happy and lit from the liquor on hand, and the Mayor's night had been made quite enjoyable by an impromptu bar fight with one of the miners, breaking a few of the rotten teeth out of his head with a lead-lined glove.  

As she walked across the basalt courtyard, she was able to pick the form of a Dwarf hurrying towards her out of the darkness thanks to the green lens on her goggles filtering the light better.  As he approached, she saw it was Johnny, a look of worry on his face.

"Mayor, I- uhh, I dunnae want th'bother ya', but yer needed at the eas'gate!"
"Why," came her cold reply, the hollow voice muffled slightly by her respirator.  
"Goblins," He said.  "They're on th'march, and they've reached the unfin'shed roadway.  I got the ress'a th'miners to come inside.  They're heading down to round up Sulari, but... Aryn thinks ya' should hold'em at the hill.  Rain bolts upon 'em to get'em distracted until the others show."

There was a curse from the Mayor, her good hand tightening on the handle to her custom crossbow.  She pointed a finger to the east gate, barking out, "Go!  Take formation at the pass.  Those melee idiots... Let's leave them with nothing but corpses to clean up when they've rounded their lazy asses from below."  

As the marksmen took position at the road, a noise from behind caused Likot to glance over her shoulder.  She growled low in her throat as she saw the drawbridge trundling upwards slowly, the chains rattling through their pulleys as they pulled the heavy cinnabar bridge upwards.  

Johnny's face appeared in the window to one of the gate towers, his smile cold and cruel.  "Mayor, yer' goblins aren't back thisa' way.  Turn 'round, face yer' foe."

"How quaint, you little pissant," She snarled.  She was dimly aware of the sound of the south bridge being raised too, her eyes narrowing behind her goggles.  "You mean to have the Gobbos do what you're too weak to."

"Aye, ya' speak true ya' foul cripple.  Ya' shoulda' died long ago, when yer' arm was mangled.  Ya've had many of my friends sentanced t'death with yer' insane orders.  If I thought I could kill ya' m'self I'd be down there wi'me fingers round yer' feckin' throat.  I-"

He was silenced as a heavy iron bolt embedded itself into the fortification, inches from his face.  From the road below, Mayor Likot calmly cocked another bolt into her auto-loader, green glass goggles staring up at him.  "That was a demonstration," she said hollowly.  "I placed that bolt there on purpose.  That's to let you know that when I kill each and every one of these greenskins, as soon as I get back inside I'm going to put an entire quiver through your stomach.  I'll make my initials out of bolts and blood."

She turned, lifting her crippled arm laboriously to point towards the darkness.  To the sets of red pinpoints glowing and bobbing in the black.   "Step forward.  The first one of you to bring a greenskin down can keep Fountainspring's hand as a trophy."

***

Dojango was working late in the workshops, something he'd been doing more and more of lately.  The work he did for Bertrand the Mad was menial, often times dull, but he liked it.  Grinding bones left him sore, and mixing the salty sulferos powder into food in correct amounts and disguising it with spices felt like solving a puzzle.  It was with this feeling of pride he carried up a large stack of roasts up from the workshops, ready to place them in barrels for transport.

As he passed the workshops though, he slowed down.  He glanced towards the one Erith had claimed and defiled, staring into the dimly lit space.  He hadn't gone in since the incident months earlier, but now?  Now, he was bitten by the curiosity bug.

Stepping inside, he gingerly set the roast down on the counter.  The walls had mostly been scrubbed clean, but the outlines of designs could be sign.  As he walked around the work bench, something caught his eye.  He moved a saw out of the way, looking at a string of letters - unfound until now - crudely etched into the stone.

He stared at it a long while.  Though in the back of his mind he knew it was the same gibberish scrawled big and bold months earlier, he wasn't focusing on it.  No, he was focusing through it, his mind wandering.  It wasn't until minutes, many minutes later, that his unfocused eyes saw the letters for what they were.  Saw them lined up.  Saw them ... pieced together correctly.

"Much stronger now Olsmo shaking in fear I'm alive again thank you little Dwarves beware him beware his dead beware now they come..." he whispered.  

His eyes grew wide as saucers.  Oh no, how long had they been sitting on this?  This...

"ARYN!" He hollered.  The roast was forgotten as Dojango sprinted for the steps, his shouts echoing louder than his boots on the stone.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 27th of Opal, 1062: Part 2

Marksman Boardknives was the first to fire.  The squad mates were laughing, watching the Goblins as they marched towards the gates, and as the first bolt sank into the flesh at the green skins chest Boardknives let out a small cheer.

It died in her throat as the goblin glanced down at her own chest, and reached up to grab the bolt, rip it out, and toss it aside.  The other Dwarves, exchanging glances, opened fire, making a pincushion out of the goblin.  But her marching didn't cease.  

"I'm out," yelled Pillarrushes.
"Oh Akimurist, I'm out too," seconded Smithglowing.
Mayor Likot cursed low.  She'd run out of bolts seconds after them, and still the Goblins marched on.  Through her green lenses she could see the leader, his arms perforated.  She could also see how his jaw was only connected by the barest threads of muscle and skin, how the armor and flesh had melded together, rotting off the bones of his ribs.  

Her warnings were cut off, back peddling as she bashed the lunging Zomblin in the shoulder with her crossbow.  From her right, Smithglowing was shrieking, "My eyes!  OH GOD MY EYEEESSS".  The sounds of ripping flesh were heard over the clang over crossbows being used as bludgeons.  

It was pandemonium.  Likot herself brought down four of the goblins, bashing their skulls in with her crossbow.  Boardknives wasn't so lucky.  She was set upon by the goblins and ripped to shreds, her screams lasting for minutes as they gorged on her entrails.  

Pillarrushes was the next to fall, her throat torn out by the gnashing teeth of one of the horde.  Likot was backpedaling as she was set upon, her heel catching on a rock.  Even as she was set upon by the horde, she continued to bash with her crossbow and kick.  She took one of them down as hands peeled her armor back, bony claws digging into her stomach.

She stayed silent as she watched her guts hauled from the gaping hole in her stomach, sweat beading up on her forehead.  Her left leg was twitching madly, and though she tried to lift the crossbow her strength failed - dropping it uselessly into the sand.  As her vision blacked behind the glass goggles, a last tangible thought floated through her mind: I'll make you pay Fountainspring, I'll make you pay...

***

The courtyard was a mess of blood and bones.  Johnny hadn't expected that, as he turned to leisurely head downstairs that behind him, a host of goblins had risen from the bone piles.  They were hideous and rotten, and the few that still had skin wore it like tattered rags atop their bones, their bleached grins terrible even in the night.

He was able to get to his room and the door locked behind him, but a miner and a farmer, and one of the only two millers were caught by the grabbing skeleton-hands.  When Sulari and her crew reached topside, breathless from the sprint, they were greeted with horror living - at the sight of Dwarves they'd spent years working beside turned into a mass of meat, and blood, and ribbons of flesh.  

Axeman Laborfaith vomited at the sight, spewing bile beside the stairscase.  The others didn't hesitate, rushing forward.  The Skeletons didn't stand much of a chance, not compared to the champions of the fortress.  Though covered in cuts and bruises - they were mostly unharmed.  

"What's that... do you hear anything?" Asked Axeman Rackreleased.
They went silent, Sulari's eyes widening as she heard a faint shriek in the distance.
"Drop the drawbridge!  DROP IT!  We need to get out there!"

By the time their boots hit the sand, they were too late.  Mayor Likot was separated into two pieces.  Only Smithglowing was alive - if you could call it that.  She was surrounded by the dead, gnawing at her thrashing, blind body.  Her arms and legs were pinned, teeth rending the flesh as they ripped away large chunks.

Distracted as they were, the zombies were made short work of, something Sulari privately held as a bittersweet victory.  These weren't the brittle skeletons from the courtyard, these were more taut, their muscles hardened almost to the consistency to steel.  

As the rest of the fortress came flooding across the bridge, they saw Sulari throwing the last of the corpses atop the hastily constructed pile.  The Dwarves had emptied their wine skins onto them, and while it soaked in Sulari readied her flint and steel.  Bertrand, at the back of the crowd, moaned low as she struck the stone to her axe, sparks catching on the high-proof alcohol.  

Strong as steel the muscles may have been, they burned as easily as dried wood.  In minutes, the pile was a roaring fire, the flames licking at the sky.  Sulari walked slowly towards the fortress, her head hanging low.  The Dwarves parted silently as she passed, and soon the flames failed to illuminate her, losing her in the night.