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[Heavy Flak]

The Events of early-hematite

They fled during the night, and looking back, Gerald saw that the spire was ablaze.  The night sky glowed an angry orange, and the smoke curling out from the Fortress's maw partially obscured the moon.

In the tunnel, they had to cut down a few elves guarding the exit, and Gerald was certain that had run down one Dwarf trying to join them even though the darkness had shown little more than a body trying to run in front of the oxen.  He held the reigns, smacking them against the flanks of their oxen while Jack stood in the back, scanning the roads for invaders.  In the last wagon Stravitch sat sullenly clutching his new mace, little Lanni leading the oxen expertly. 

They took five wagons in all, three for their siege equipment, and two because they were still partially loaded with dried meats, clothing, and trinkets.  Everything was covered with tarps and blankets they'd found in one of the beds to hide their wares, and Jack had made the Dwarves, and the little half-breed all dress in the long brown merchants cloaks to both hide them from sight, and to take any possible marauders unaware. 

They traveled on in shifts, resting only when the oxen could carry on no longer.

***

"Gerald?"
"Aye?"

Jack glanced back over his shoulder, red eyes squinting.  When he saw the shapes riding in the rear wagon, bobbing and bouncing along the poorly maintained dirt road, he nodded and turned back around.  Still, he lowered his voice to near a whisper, and Gerald had to lean over to hear him fully.

"We have a real problem.  I don't... trust that bard your friend has brought along."
"Aye dunnae see how that's a prol'em a' ours.  I kinda' see that as a prol'em of yers."

The goblin took in a breath and exhaled slowly.  "I don't think you understand.  She knows things.  Have you really listened to her?  She's picked up much too much for a simple bard.  And the way she's always flattering your friend..."
"And what do ya' propose?  That we're gunna' get mauled t'death by an obnoxious pixie with a lute?"
"I propose that you keep your eyes open if you know what's good for you.  I've been doing this for nearly fifty years now, and I'm not about to let my life's work drain away in a pool of blood because you've kept your rose-tinted glasses on.  Watch the half-breed, and watch your friend.  If anything happens it'll be because of her, or because of him getting talked into whatever mischief she's slinging.  No Bard leaves the safety of their bars to run away with hardened criminals and blood-stained soldiers... it's just not done."

***

"What do you mean, 'corrupting'?" Stravitch asked.
"What does anyone mean when they use that word, that string of words, to describe someone?" Lanni said brightly.  She was slouched in the seat, the heels of her kid leather boots propped up on the foot guard. 
"I've known Gerald for years.  I highly doubt that a single green skinned ponce could cause him to... what was it again?"

The little girl gave an exaggerated sigh, and picked up the lute sitting beside her.  She strummed a cord - out of tune - and said, "I believe My Lord is just stretching for a song:
Oh, noble Captain
So strong and so fair
Terrible news of Goblin Jack
Of which you need be aware

He's a cannibal, a rogue
An unstable heel
He'll sell us as slaves
Or grind us to bone meal

We must act quite soon
'fore we meet marching corp's
foul ranks of goblin hordes
Most libel to eat our corpse"

He barked out laugher, garnering a glance back from Sallow Jack in the front.  He gave a jaunty wave to the goblin, and when the goblin turned around Stravitch looked to the little girl. "Say he is untrustworthy.  What will he do."

"If this girl was him, I'd subvert yon Dwarf.  Get him to carry out deeds most dark, then put him down as a rabid dog.  Or if not him, you, or I.  The Bearded Slaves he needs to haul his loot, but we three?  Dispensable."

Stravitch thought about this in silence, idly stroking his beard.  He was broken from his reverie as she strummed another cord.  "Just sit and wait, esteemed Captain.  Act rash, and out he'll lash, as mean as a scalded dog.  The time will come, oh yes, when he'll announce himself.  Then we act."

***

mid-Hematite

The pace had slowed when no attackers had shown up, and leisurely the traveling caravan took rest at the nation-borders of Stukos Matul.  Guards were set, bed rolls undone, and after a light supper was finished, the troop set in for an early evening.

Shouts roused Gerald from his sound sleep.  For a moment, the flickering orange and yellows he saw confused him, as did the crackling of wood.  But that quickly faded as the heat blasted against him.  Gerald was up and groping for his sword, shouting, "FIRE!  FIRE!  SAVE TH' BALLISTAS!  SAVE THEEMMM!"

It wasn't until he rushed towards the wagons that he saw the ones hauling seige goods were safe - only the supply wagons on fire.  Three of the Worker Dwarves lay beside the raging fires, blood soaking in to the ground under them - an untold number probably in the wagon. 

Shouting came from the darkness, and with rising dread, Gerald recognized the voices. 

"Oh, Gods be good..." he cried, charging towards them.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of mid-hematite

Rounding the corner, Gerald's heart sank.  Jack had his scimitar pressed tight under Stravitch's throat, the dwarf pressed up against one of the aflame wagons, his eyes darting back as the fire inched it's way closer.  Behind Goblin Jack was the little half-breed.  She stood on her tip-toes, a wicked grin on her pretty face.  One of the string of her lute was looped around the goblin's narrow neck, and any time he twitched or shifted his stance, she would give the tiniest of twists to the instrument, tightening the cord. 

The voices came all at once.
"Get this shifty green bastard offa' me, he set the whole wagons to burn!  I'm going to burn!  Get him off!"
"GERALD, cut down the little one!  She set these wagons off!"
"Please, kind dwarf, handsome dwarf, put this rabid dog to rest.  He was caught with flint and tinder, he's trying to destroy these weapons of war!"

Gerald unsheathed his sword, but he stood his ground.  This was madness, and a wrong move could potentially leave all three dead.   He quickly surveyed the scene.  Bedrolls had been tossed aside, and there were too many footprints in the dust to get a feel of who had moved where.  But the bodies sprawled around the scene told their own story, the one lying on his back showing a throat neatly slit.

"Tell me... what happened, quick. B'fore Stravitch catches light."

There was a pause before Jack spoke first.  "I woke to piss, and saw the little bitch hopping out the back.  She'd opened the guards throats with a garrote, and I think she sent your friend to light the wagons off."
"All lies, handsome dwarf," Lanni called, giving another little turn to the lute, "I saw Razor Jack slit these throats, check his blade, there's blood on it."
"That blood is mine!" Stravitch roared.  "He keeps nicking my throat, get me OUT of here!"

Gerald took another look at the scene, his eyes drawing back to the bodies, and the neat slit carved in the upturned guards throat.  Gerald set his jaw and gave a quick nod, saying quitely, "Yer' right, I'm comin' t'help."

The generic response caused a brief confusion among the three, and in that time Gerald acted.  He dashed forward, his blade sliding from it's scabbard and arcing upwards.  There was a sharp twang and Lanni went toppling backwards, the string on her lute snapped, a notch missing from the bottom of Jack's ear.  The Goblin lurched to the side and Stravitch moved away from the burning wagon, smearing blood around his throat as he rubbed at it.

Lanni landed on her hands, and vaulted herself backwards, skidding a few feet backwards in the dirt.  She drew a slender blade from a sheath in her boot, and her quick movements took her in and out of the shadows, having her flit in and out of visibility. 

"What the hell is going on!" Stravitch shouted.  He went fumbling for his mace, shrieking as he wrapped his hand around the heated haft - sending it spiraling into the clearing. 

"This girl was hired," She said, appearing beside one of the wagons. "By the Elven nobility.  They want you punished for your transgressions.  I found you from your dear friend Major DayCovering, quite happy to tell this girl where you'd been sent, after I carved the request on his stomach."

Gerald gaped at her and she vanished, reappearing closer to the embers of the cook fire.  Stravitch grabbed a strip of leather and wrapped it around his palm and fingers before picking up the mace, smoke curling up from his hand.  Jack's lip curled, fangs bared as he snarled out, "You stupid bitch, you're punishing the innocent on some mummers farce!    You attempted to burn MY trade to get at these two?  That's wrong, so wrong!"

"You would have been an unfortunate casualty," She said, melting into the shadows.  Her knife flashed, and barely it was deflected by Jack's blade.  He snarled and slashed into the shadows, but it was either deflected or cut through air.  "Though truth be told, this girl would have added you just for the fun of it."

With the flames roaring higher there were less shadows for her to vanish in.  Stravitch and Gerald flanked her while Jack pushed in from the front.  She danced aside of his blows, nicking his skin with the occasional flash of her blade.  Stravitch leaned in, teeth bared against the heat, and brought a lucky blow - shattering the girls right shoulder.  She shrieked with pain and darted backwards.

But not before flinging the knife with her left hand.  As she vanished into the woods, Jack and Stravitch turned to Gerald, their eyes drawn to the hilt protruding from his chest, blood blooming bright against his shirt.  Staring down at it, Gerald coughed loudly and dropped to his knees.  Blood splattered the dirt, and his chin, and with a groan he gripped at the handle, "She... oh god, I think she hit a lung."

[Zako]

*GASP!*

OH NO! Not gerald!

Will he live! I certainly hope so, because a dagger to the lung is nasty business...

*crosses fingers for luck*

[sneakey pete]

But he kind of has to live, it'd be a paradox if he didn't. for now...

[Jools]

Yikes. I hope she gets her comeuppance...

Also it seems we now know what turned Major DayCovering from an old war hero into someone who just tosses horseshoes...

[Heavy Flak]

The events of mid-hematite, 1020

They left in the night, though the few Dwarves that were with them fled into the night at the thought Lanni Underriver might still be out in the darkness.  That left Stravitch, Jack, and a pale-faced Gerald to lead the wagons across the borders. 

They had gingerly removed the knife from his chest, a great gout of blood rushing out, but the tide was stemmed with a wrapping of ox blankets and baling twine.  Rum was used to dull the pain, and though he felt short of breath, Jack was convinced that only one lung had been punctured by the knife. 

They fled without sleep for three days at Jack's insistence.  By the time the mountains of Stukos Matul rose in the distance, The Oxen were nearly dead of exhaustion, along with Gerald.

***

They stopped outside the gatehouse guarding the mountain pass, their little wagons looking like children's toys compared to the great wall and the great bridge.  While Gerald slowly tugged on the rope to ring the large brass bell, Jack conferred with Stravitch in the last of the wagons.

"You know, he won't die.  He's tough, and many a men have lived with a punctured lung."
"It's not his health I'm worried about," He said sullenly. "There was an instant back there, I thought he would have turned me to the sword and flame.  If you had said something about me torching the wagons, he would have cut me down a lot easier than he did the little bard."
"I knew it wasn't you," Jack said with a shrug.  "It wouldn't have made sense.  You wouldn't have burned the food - you'd have been more apt to crush the guards heads in and left her the scuttle work."

"True enough," Stravitch said, and lapsed into sullen silence.  They watched the speak atop the gate wall wave a tiny hand, his voice faint and hollow as he called down a greeting.  Jack broke the silence.

"You look like a Dwarf that loves gold."
"The only thing any Dwarf loves more than gold is steel."
"I've got a ... wee proposition for you, then."
"...I'm listening."
"With Gerald injured, what's he to do?" Jack said, sparing a glance towards the gates now laboriously trundling downwards.  "He'll retire, that's what, and it'll be for the best.  He has his glory, and he's safely away from battle.  And where does that leave men like you and I?  It leaves you playing merchant until the war is over, and me making the dull runs from Mountain to Mountain to make a living. 
"I say we take their coin, AND their goods.  There's a man inside I've been working with, who's been selling me Godly trinkets that my Goblin Brothers take to like candy.  This mountain is safe, the elves far away, but we Goblins - we're constantly harried by Humans and the occasional lost skirmisher of Elven Filth.  But this dwarf, he has ideas.  Big ideas, and he wants to turn a profit.
"With his plan?  We could live like kings.  With these weapons of war, we can get coin, yes, but information is often worth much more.  There's talk of hidden Goblin gold, buried in haunted lands.  No one has opened up to Old Jack quite yet, but with a wonderfully sweetened pot, I think I could loosen up a few lips."

Stravitch looked at Gerald, watching as he made to talk with the Dwarves crossing the bridge.  In the distance he could see them exchange pleasantries, and a few of the priests came rushing out quickly, most likely to tend to the wound before it began to fester. 

"Who's this god-selling Dwarf you've been talking with?"
"He's an outlaw of this town, and operates from the back alleys.  I only know him as Telamon."

***
The events of Mid-Sandstone, 1064

"An tha's where my story ends."
"You're kidding," scoffed Rosycats.
"That's it?  Your father retired, and..."
"That sour soul Stravitch turned traitor?"

"Aye, it is.  Though is he really a traitor, takin' weapons from a city that needs none?  That's sound business, not treachery.  That's the end of me Da's story, at least,"
"But what happened to him?"
"Did the little bard come back?"
Johnny only smiled, "Tha's fer' another time, lads."

As the Merchants, grumbling, got to their feet to leave, Johnny noticed a small envelope laying where Rosycats satchel had been.  He went to pick it up and return it, but noticed Aryn's seal in the wax on the back.

Opening the envelop, he read the letter, his face growing darker with each word to the nobility of Stramgil. 

By the moonlight, Johnny duplicated the letter, though the one name mentioned he replaced with two.  The letter was resealed with one Aryn's rings he had stolen over the years, and in the cover of darkness, this was slipped back into the merchants satchel.

Three nights later, bandits attacked their caravan.  Johnny was among the missing when they were eventually driven off, and presumed dead. 

[Heavy Flak]

OOC Stuff

This is the end of the adventure portion, at least for now.  I'll be honest, it was a LOT harder than writing the Fortress portions and to some degree I don't think it flowed as well.  I got the idea from DnG!, and it dawned on me while I worked on this just why Kagus seems to have the monopoly on Adventurer stories.  That doesn't mean it wasn't interesting for me, and it certainly doesn't mean there's no more back story to be done... just it'll come at a later time.  Probably when there's a crippling bug from a new release that causes me to put stuff aside for a little while, or when I have to go to a conference and my hotel doesn't have an internet connection.

Characters that were requested, but didn't appear, aren't lost to the void.  Some of them I left out intentionally - they may make better use in the fortress proper.  Others will be held over for the eventual return to Adventure Mode.  They'll arrive in one capacity or another.

Battles between characters were run in real time, and was accomplished by creating the character proper and leveling them up, then retiring them in a town I'd killed everyone in.  Then I'd do the same with the other character, and have them fight.  This allowed for story-altering changes.  I actually expected Ashian to beat Colonel Jonas, and was surprised when he split her head open after wrenching the spear away from her. 

Gerald actually did get a knife stuck in his chest, and had a lung punctured, by Little Lanni.  That was VERY unexpected and almost lead to the dreaded TIME PARADOX, but he didn't die and it worked to my advantage.  While leveling up Jack Talkedspider, he had two of his fingers bitten off by wolves, giving me a very nice battle wound for him to sport in the single instance it was mentioned. 

Stravitch killed anything that got in his way and if I was in charge of him, he set fire to any tree he could touch.  What else is new, right?

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 2^nd of Timber, 1064

Likot had commandeered the mess hall for her investigations.  Someone had greased the top steps coming from up from the housing level, and three Dwarves had been injured before the reason was found and the area cordoned off.  Mason Spinesplanks suffered a broken leg, Stoneworker Grippedpalace a broken arm, and both of those because Stravitch landed on top of them as he toppled down the steps in his heavy steel plate. 

Once cleaned, Likot had brought Dwarves into the mess in groups to talk, sometimes in pair, and on rare instances, singularly. 

Kuli sat across the table from Likot, Jools from Sergeant Pepper, and Vash across from Valania.  Sergeant Pepper was tasked with writing down the answers to the questions, while Valania busied herself sketching out the Dwarves in front of her.  There were many sheets of parchment, showing a variety of scared and distraught faces.

"Where were you all this morning, before the bell for first-shift?" Likot asked in her hollow voice.
"I was in my solar in prayer," Kuli said, smiling.  Of the three pulled in, only he was unafraid. 
"We were in the temple proper," Jools said, and gestured to Vash, "Praying early, like always."
"That is truth," Kuli added. "The only mornings they've missed are when we had to cleanse the temple - again."

Likot's green gaze swept over them slowly, and Sergeant Pepper, looking up from his pad of paper, asked, "Who around here would you consider an enemy?  Who would want to hurt you."

"Besides Aryn, you mean?" Vash said, and the three reborn laughed hard, sending a chill down his spine. 
"Yes, Mr. Ringtalked.  Besides that ass Estetar."
"Then..." he paused for a second and glanced at Jools, who gave him a nearly imperceivable nod.  "The Lenodites have become a little... caustic as of late.  There have been a few issues."

"Religious wars," Likot said, and Sergeant Pepper quickly made a note.  "The God of the Bloody Sun attracts strong personalities.  This is a very interesting turn of events... We Zefonists need to stick together."

A wry smile played on Kuli's face.  "I think you're mistaken, ma'am, but you're not a follower of Zefon."
"I've come back from the dead, reborn.  What does that make me, if not a true child of Zefon?"
"It makes you an anomaly.  And the product of the folly of Dwarfs.  But it is not the affair of Gods, Zefon's rebirth is a more subtle - and loving - act."
"Perhaps you're right, dear Maester.  I suppose that means I should have a chat with my new Father, doesn't it?  Be a dear, and when you leave fetch Bertrand, Akroma, and Dojango.  They're next on my list"

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 11^th of Timber, 1064

"Where is my son at?" A distraught Istrath was asking Dwarves in the hallway.  He got blank stares, or unknowing shrugs, or an occasional suggestion he might be out with the Dread Camels, at Dodik-Come-Lately's, or he'd finally taken up the pick as requested and was sent down to toil in the quarry.

Running across Mookie near the kitchens, she waved a hand dismissively.  "You're being too controlling," She said sweetly, niblbing at a catmeat biscuit.  "Let him fly free!  All this smothering and worrying, it's not healthy.  You know what would take your mind off him?"  She ignored the disgusted look he gave her, and pressed on, "Heading down to the workshops, and making me a nice set of earrings.  I heard we have some rose quartz that would look simply stunning in a marquise cut."

Istrath whipped around at the raucous shouting coming from the stairwell, surprised to see Akroma tromping up the steps, his arm around Limul.  He held an animal trap above his head made out of turtle shells, and it menaced with spikes of gold and platinum.  There were pictures of bright bloody-red suns in rose quartz along the shell, glinting in the torch light. 

"Hail the newest bone carver!" Akroma shouted, "Look what our little genius came out with, Trumpetcontrolled, he calls it!  Ha!  We'll have him down there, making totems by the barrel full!"
Limul looked pleased with the praise, though he did squirm out of the bonecarvers embrace. "I'll... get to work on the totems soon, but I've been working for a week straight.  I think that calls for a drink."

[Jools]

Cool! Is that going to be young Master LeopardKnight's new profession, or will he pass up his new skills and choose a different path?

All I'm saying is that he'd better not be using any donkey bones.

Interesting conversation with the Mayor as well... is this the sign of new (loose) alliance, or just the opening moves in a conflict between those who believe in rebirth and those who have experienced it in some form?

[Zako]

Young and inspiring!

And nice work on the Adventure part, I loved Jonas! Awesome stuff!

[Kuli]

Bone Carver for Limul.  That's cool, I guess.  It's good in this fortress where there are bound to be lots of bones.

And to think he's already Legendary at such a young age.  They grow up so fast!

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 18^th of Timber, 1064

Limul made his way down the stairwell, past the workshops and even the crypts.  He'd been given a note to come see Glacies down here after his shift was over, though why he'd want to have a meeting in the old access tunnels was a mystery. 

Reaching the floor, he heard noises coming from the north, and saw torch light, and headed in that direction.  The smoothed walls and engraved floors gave way to rough hewn stone, and the sound of men with picks working hard.  He eventually stepped into a wide room, taking in the open space and the alcoves the miners were finishing on the sides.  Near the back, Glacies - looking as frazzled as always - talked with Dodik-Come-Lately.


"Then that will be fine, Miss Tinbells?"
"Bookshelves and flooring are easy to create, good sir.  But do you have the coin to pay?  Hordemaster is a prestigious title, and is lacking in pay."

Glacies lifted one brow, and coughed politely into his hand. "It should be noted that the Hordemaster is the most apt to know the stocks of the fortress.  He knows when things go missing, like bars of gold.  Payment is not an issue - this is for the Greater Good."
She took the small chit he held out to her, tucking it down the front of her bodice.  "Whatever you say, darling.  If you're feeling generous and stumble upon more of these phantom accounts, let me know.  There are some editions to my establishment I'd like to add."

She gave a sweet smile to Limul as she passed, heading for the door.  Glacies made a quick note on a pad of paper before addressing the youth.  "Thank you for arriving so timely.  And what do you think of it?"
"I think... I'm not sure what this room is for, sir."
"Fair enough.  We have a rich history, both in Stukos Matul and in our fortress proper.  We have ledgers, stocks, rations, trade-documents, along with a rich set of mythology and sciences brought with Philosopher Gorgeinsight.  And currently, it's thrown around willy-nilly, stuffed under tables or in barrels.  I aim to give us a proper library."
"And how does that require my services?" Limul asked, confused.

"Well, Miss Tinbells will be providing the chairs, the tables... the bookshelves.  And that is all well and good, but I was hoping to add some flair to them.  As the fortresses newest bonecarver-"
"I haven't actually applied to any guilds yet," Limul interrupted.  Glacies only smiled.
"That is true, but you've shown yourself to be an expert at working them, and who wouldn't be extatic to see the decorations you've given our library."
"Well... I suppose I can do that, sure.  Until I commit to a Union, at least."

Glacies smiled, and nodded.  "Wonderful.  I'll have Miss Tinbells get with you when she's completed some of the woodworks."

[erendor]

<I>From the Journal of Johnny Fountainspring</I>
1st of Timber, 1059<P>Oy, more fresh meat has entered the grounds.  A hunter, 3 peasants, a pump operator, a mason, a soaper, a crafts dwarf and a woodcutter.  Almost at once they were reassigned, the majority going into the severely depleted guardsmen that Stravitch  commands, and Aryn picked a few for his own personal retinue.  The rest have either been given to the miners, the masons, or Sulari for her job well done.  <P>The Civilians are becomming excessively morbid, as there have been bets placed on the longevity of mortality of the new recruits.  There are 5 to 1 odds that Sulari's newest will suffer brain damage before the year is out.  (I'm going to make a killing when Stravitch bludgeons that tart's head in with Sefolkubuk)<P>Major ---- DayCovering has been a thorn in all of our sides as of late, specifically because no one is quite sure what it is he does.  He spends his days pitching horse shoes topside, or quietly practicing in the barracks.  His shock of white hair, and majestic, almost floor length beard are enough to freeze the tongues of any Dwarf that dares approach him, including myself.  I attempted to recruit him into our import/export side business, but having his steely gaze set upon me, I felt my knees turning to jelly.<P>One Dwarf has earned himself quite the reputation through his sheer determination.  Dojango Whiporbs is our Master Chef, leader of the foodsmiths, and is an accomplished cook and brewer.  Just a week ago he was seen strutting across the court yard, a fried egg held high above his head on a plate, drenched in fresh butter...<P>***<P>"What is <I>that</I>" Major ---- DayCovering asked suspiciously as Dojango approached.
"It's an egg, sir."
"An EGG!  And how is it cooked?"
"It's been fried, sir.  in fresh butter.  I'm bringing it to you as a present!  And to remind you that as the leader of our Chef's Union, your support can keep more delicacies flowing to you, your drops, and the civilians."
"...I do have a soft spot for fried eggs," mused Major ---- DayCovering. "Especially ones that have been fried in fresh butter."
"Oh yes, we're producing butter in droves now.  There's more fresh butter, and sugar, and flour, and eggs, than you could ever eat!"
"What is your name, Son?"
"Dojango, Sir.  Dojango Whiporbs."
"Dojango... Hmm, well, I wait expectantly for dinner, then, Master Chef!"
"You won't be disappointed sir!"
  <p>[ April 27, 2008: Message edited by: Heavy Flak ]

I haven't read past this point, I'm going through every page one by one. It's a great story! 

Anyway, this prompted me to post.  I was a bit suspicious when Major ---- DayCovering was introduced, and now I'm certain of the similarity.  Catch 22, eh?  Sneaky .  Is there a Yossarian I've missed? 

I'll see as I...READ ON!

[Kuli]

I'm really looking forward to seeing how you go about making a library.