Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Heavy Flak]

They weren't all dead yet, but when I did that post it was late, I haven't slept in days, and I just wanted to save, shut down, and sleep.  But it was already bumped up 2-3 fps, and I'm hoping I'll maybe see 1-3 more when it's all over and done. 

[CrackFile]

It is like space invaders. The more crap you kill the faster it gets.

[Chaoseed]

It is like space invaders. The more crap you kill the faster it gets.

That is surprisingly plausible.

[Heavy Flak]

The Events of the 5^th of Felsite, 1073

With as much pomp and swagger as four feet of sweat soaked, dirt caked Dwarf could muster, Duke Fikod Boarddistance stepped over the bridge and into the Fortress in the Wastes. 

The Dwarven lands of Stukos Matul were in turmoil now -- the Queen Risen had left no heir behind at the Great Fortress, and her brothers were left to squabble for power over the throne.  It had just become worse over the years, with bandits on the roads and pirates at the sea, and armies of Dwarves fighting Dwarves in the mountains.  The Hammerers, once great beacons of Justice, had turned their trade as Sell-Smiths, shaping the flesh of those that hurt their noble charges.  Fikod brought with him one such Sell-Smith, Pulleybridge, from back at his home court.  He had also brought his mistress with him, the dumpy Martyrbooks.  He didn't like her particularly much, in fact, on the long journey east he had grown to despise her, but it would be unseemly to travel without female companionship and he adored his wife too much to risk her life coming out here on what, he was quite sure, would be a fruitless venture.

He saw Dwarves scurrying about, rushing as fast as they could to hurl rocks over the side of the cliff and into the magma below.  Others, the majority of them, were carrying large glass blocks, their sweat fingers leaving prints all along their smooth sides.  He stared in complete confusion at the sight before him.  Eventually, he hollered at a crooked-back Dwarf heaving a great boulder into the magma.

"You!  Servent!  Grab a few of your kin and fetch my bags!"

Cokho Roknut stared back at him for a minute, before wheezing out an old man laugh.  "I s'pect your the next Duke?"
"Quite right," he said, puffing out his chest," and I need my bags fetched and brought to my room."
"He s'pects he'll need a room!" Cokho crowed.  Slapping himself on the knee, he turned and limped off towards his next assignment - more rocks.

"I apologize, sir, for his rudeness," Rice said, to the Duke's right.  He stood there, his cap in his hands, his beloved Lucy beside him.  They both offered friendly smiles, even as the Duke's brow narrowed in suspicion. 

"And you are...?"
"I was the Mayor, when this Fort was new.  Now, my love and I are simple laborers, scraping by.  I saw you as I worked, and felt I needed to come warn you, sir."
"Warn me of what!"  he snapped.  "Of the rudeness of your citizens?  I was warned back home that this is the wild frontier, but I was not prepared for what I see before me."

"I need to warn you," Rice said, "That we've had five Hammers die during their stay here, and four Dukes, and the Queen herself.  Most of these were not accidents, sir, I am sad to say.  There are evil men skulking in the sands, and there are evil men skulking within our walls, hungry for power."
Lucy gave a nod of agreement.  "I doubt Rice would be here today if he hadn't been voted out of power early on.  Now he's seen as wise by the workers, and a non-threat by the rulers.  I fear to think how he would have been treated if Aryn's struggle had grown this much back then."

The Duke's features softened when he realized these Dwarves were giving him an honest warning.  He glanced back at the bustling Fort, and spread his hands in question.  "Then what do I do?"
"Keep your head low," Lucy advised, "And don't make too many demands.  I know you're used to comfort back home, but here, it's becoming harder to find."
"But I came for an army," The Duke protested.  "I came for battle-hardened warriors, and for capital to fund them!  The Dwarven Empire is in a schism, and this is... this is a prime opportunity to take it for ourselves."

Rice and Lucy exchanged a look.  There was a lot said in that simple glance; Duke Fikod didn't like what he saw.

"You can ask around," Rice said, "Some may be interested in joining you -- most came here for Riches or Glory.  But be careful, Aryn's grip is strong, and he's obsessed in completing his project.  I'd be very wary if you start taking money from it, or manpower."

"This utter nonsense could be quelled by a few nights in chains," The Hammerer advised.
"Perhaps it's best we see the conditions here first," The Duke said, morosely.  "To better assess how to get what we need.  Could I trouble you to get our bags?" He added as a hopeful afterthought.

Rice smiled.  "I"m sorry, but I don't have the time.  If you head down the stairs though, you can find the General Berth a few levels down; I don't think the last Duke had time to unpack his things so I think your room should still be mostly bare." 

[CrackFile]

I'd like to see what becomes of this baron.

[IronValley]

I got this strange feeling that the graveyard will need expanding soon...

[bayar]

New user here. Have been reading this thread for about two weeks and I have to say, your writing style is awesome  . Can I request a dwarf ? An engineer if available (or really, anyone with mechanic skills). Thanks !

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 18^th of Hematite, 1073

The Merchants from Stramgil arrived in the fort to little fanfare.  They kept their heads down as their great covered wagons trundled through the gates, and without the usual color and splendor that came with them, most Dwarves gave them little more than a cursory glance before continuing on with their duties.  It's a shame that they didn't pay more attention, because perhaps they would have been a little more aware of what awaited them down the road.

Most were gaunt, their hair stringy and tangled and unkempt.  They wore ragged beards, something usually alien to the humans of the area.  Most strange of all though, was that they had Elves with them.  They were merchants as well, though their movements were stiff and jerky, and their eyes hollow.  They rarely spoke or socialized, and by the time the fortress bothered to take notice of them, they had vanished from sight into the safety of the covered wagons. 

Pawnzer spent the most time in the trade depot, searching through the logs that had been hauled all this great distance for any that might be of use.  Beds were needed, enough for a hundred Dwarves, maybe more, and he was beginning to feel the stress of this monumental task.  The team driver, a particularly rough looking man named Lensleaders, was the only one who seemed willing enough to talk, and it wasn't long before the carpenter struck up a friendship with him as he searched through the bins and barrels for what he needed.

"No oak?" he asked, sorting through what looked like maple, and some bamboo. 
"Doubtful, but I can't say for certain," the driver rumbled.  He sat atop a whiskey barrel sipping a mug of spirit.  "Perhaps it's in another wagon, but I couldn't tell ya' true."
"I suppose it's alright, we have beds enough, we just need... more" Pawnzer finished lamely. 
"I seen that great glass construct in yer' little pit there.  Won't do much good 'gainst them great spears if the war comes your way."

"That glass is over a foot thick, in some places more, and banded together with proper Dwarven steel.  It should be fine against..." but Pawnzer's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  "What war?"

"The one 'tween the Fire Beasts and the men, 'course.  Ain't you heard?"
"We don't hear much in the way of news, though I'm surprised, considering just how terrible that sounds," he admitted. 

The Driver gave a nod of his great head.  "The Humans done been drove back, mostly, into Elven lands.  It was a real breech of morals, I tell ya', from both sides, but when the Fire Beasts came a'roarin into the forests, settin' it ablaze, well, Elves and Humans alike gave up their petty differences to hold 'em off.  We take a ship round the sea and make landfall just a'fore the mountain ranges so we miss out on much of the worst, but you can see some a'the smoke clouds billowin' when yer' in those high passes."

Pawnzer whistled low.  "And the mountainhomes?"
"Couldn't tell ya'.  I s'pect they're safe enough.  You know as well as I the danger it is to attack a Dwarf in his mountains, very rock seems to come alive to smash ya' down.  But with that great schism, now more'n ever they're probably weak.  And some'a' the beasts can fly now, I tell ya' true."
"They're working with the Goblins, then?" Pawnzer asked, his agitation beginning to grow at this unsettling news. 

Glancing to his left, then right, Lensleaders leaned over to say in a confidential tone, "I hear tell... after work by the Green Priests, and after the purest of Evil itself granted them these powers... that those fire spoutin beasts... well, they are the Goblins."

And than Pawnzer was a zombie.

[CrackFile]

And then John was a zombie

[Jim Groovester]

I will confess that that's what I was thinking after reading the final line.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 23^rd of Malachite

Major Merkil held up his hand.  The others in his group, preparing to dart out towards the small band of skulking kobolds, reluctantly held their ground.

"Wot the hell, boss?" Maggarg griped.  His voice was still a whisper, but only barely, and Merkil found himself clenching his jaw in irritation at the swordsdwarfs stones. 
"the Humans have it covered.  We don't need to intervene.  The less people that know of our little group, the better."
"Wilber knows," Adol said.  He was sullen, and he stayed watching the Kobolds as they prepared their little assault.

"I sure do!" Wilber said enthusiastically.  He was sitting on a rock behind them, his now-towering pillar of hats rocking and wiggling precariously.  There were five of them stacked and stapled atop one another, and any time he shifted the entire pile would move too, nearly toppling off his head. 

"Yeah, quite..." Merkil said softly.  "If anything, he'll make a decent meat-shield... can't you just ignore him for-"
"Oh, what is THAT," Maggarg shouted.

As Merkil watched, horror struck, armored figures loped out of the dunes and from behind small rises.  They bounded over to where the humans were, startling them.  The slim, weak figures drew their weapons, but were left standing in dumb amazement as the armored beasts reared up on their hind legs, roaring.

The Kobolds, frightened by the display of might, shed their layers of sand and grit and bolted.  But they were no match for the beasts, who ran them down quickly.  The sight was grizzly, rending flesh, screams, and goats of blood that left the sands, the roads, and the humans soaked in the gore of the little brainless thieves.  One by one, the great bears adjusted their gleaming armor, and with trophies clenched tightly in their mouths, they roamed back to the fortress.  The humans left them unmolested, for they were unsure what to do.

"Oh, Sweet Lord Deler, and your beard of molten gold," Maggarg whispered.  "It's unnatural, it is, to have those damnable bears wearing armor now."
"I'm more worried as to how Aryn's gotten seven of them," Adol whispered.  "One is fine, clad it in armor, and Hikan has himself a cohort, but seven!  And to send them out at will, oh, that's bad..."

Merkil stroked his beard in thought, and slowly sat up.  "We may be out of a job, gentlemen.  Let's retire, and think about this... and... Wilber?"

The soldier looked eagerly towards them.

"I suppose you should come with us, as you'll be around regardless of what we do."

[Impending Doom]

Tarnish notte the majesty of Wilber's TOWER of HATS.

[CrackFile]

The next logical step from here is obviously Bear Cavalry.

[Stravitch]

Gentlemen.

[Mephansteras]

Hmm, interesting.