Print

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

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 6^th of Sandstone. 1068

"Alright Tanner, this has gone on long enough.  We're having this out here an- ... why the hell's the Jeweler in here?"

Makrond looked up from his workshop table, perplexed.  Either he hadn't seen Lieutenant Riddlewire enter his shop, or he just hadn't been interested in that little fact.  Beside him, Istrath sat sheepishly, color darkening his cheeks and forehead as he averted his eyes from Aryn's man.  Hikan frowned, arms crossing over his chest.

"Well?"
"Master Leopardknight has turned to, ah, assisting the vigilante as well."
"You have GOT to be kidding me!" Hikan threw up his hands in exasperation.  "Seriously?  The Jeweler?  What can he do?  Is he taking that leather fetish suit and covering it in sequins, too?"

Istrath rolled his eyes.  "Fantastic.  Jokes about my sexual preferences, because I work with gems.  I have a son, you know."
"Yes, whatever," Hikan growled.  "Just answer the question."
"I do more around here than just set stones into mugs.  I'm an architect, and have dabbled in engineering."
"And?"
"...and I've fixed up that lamp you were too stupid to figure out how to work!"

Hikan exploded.  Tugging up the sleeves on his trench coat, he advanced on the jeweler with fists raised in a boxers pose.  Istrath scramabled back behind the table, but Makrond, in his calm simplicity, raised up a hand.  "Please, Master Riddlewire, this is quite enough.  It's not helping anyone.  You should probably just apologize to our Jeweler friend, and we can get on with this."

Hikan gaped, dumbstruck.  Satisfied, Makrond pointed to a table at the side, where a lamp covered in gears and latches rested.  "The tinder kit is inside, the wick above soaked in alcohol.  It'll catch near instantaneous.  You just flip the lever, and the summoning shade is lowered over top.  Aim it towards The Poison Temple for best effects."

Grumbling, Hikan snatched up the lantern, turning to stalk out.  He stopped as Makrond cleared his throat.  "And what do we say, Lieutenant?"
"...Oh come ON!  I've spent the whole day trying to track down the brat that cut the tail off Roaroak's pet bull.  I don't have the patience for this!"
"Then perhaps the lamp should be placed back?"
"...thank you, Tanner."

Makrond smiled, and gave a little wave.  "Of course.  Good hunting!"

[Keldor]

Point it at the poison temple, eh?  ...Maybe the vigilante is Stravich... We all know he's been off his rocker lately...

[CanadianWolverine]

Point it at the poison temple, eh?  ...Maybe the vigilante is Stravich... We all know he's been off his rocker lately...

OOC: Heh, first thing I thought of was the toxic/poisonous clouds would make a good reflective surface.

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

Point it at the poison temple, eh?  ...Maybe the vigilante is Stravich... We all know he's been off his rocker lately...

Somehow I can't imagine Stravich as an acrobat.

[Zako]

He wouldnt use the hook. He would either go around or burst straight through.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 12^th of Sandstone, 1068

At the sound of the muffled scream, Sparrow increased his pace towards the southern entrance.  As he crossed the bridge, he drew to a halt, groaning at the scene before him.  Zulban Admiredwhip lay in a puddle of blood in the sand, his head caved in, his arms shattered.  Rips poked out from his shirt where his chest had been crushed. Sparrow sighed.  That dwarf crafted the foul 'bow Edtulalod, he thought, [/i]though it's use is evil, his skill was renowned.  A waste of dwarven craftsship.  That murderer haunting this grounds-[/i] "AHH!"

Sparrow jumped back in surprise as one of the camels reared up, charging into him.  He stumbled back, his arm bleeding from the bite on it, and drew up his crossbow, sighting two more baring down on him.  The first bolt strike the camel between the eyes and bounced off, a workmans defect softening the steel.  The second bolt-  Click. 

"What?"  Sparrow looked down at the empty, opened breach on the repeater, his eyes widening in horror.  Click.  Click.  Click.  His quiver empty, the breach open, Sparrow closed his eyes and uttered a silent prayer, raising the crossbow up like a club. 

The camel's head closest to him exploded in a shower of bone fragments and dust.  The other two, ignorant in their death continued to prance forward.  They both met the same fate, the ground around Sparrow's feet covered in bones. 

"No fear, brother boltslinger.  It's not your time just yet."

A chill ran down Sparrow's spine at Likot's words, taking deep, calming breaths while her hollow laughter faded as she departed. 

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

Diary of Maggarg
Training again today when Sparrow wandered in. He looked terrible, all pale and shaking.
He couldn't even hit some of the targets, it was that bad.
I'll have to ask the lad what's wrong. If I can't sort him, I bet Adol can.
I'm not having any more accidents or anything after Zako died.

[CanadianWolverine]

Cokho Roknut 12th of Sandstone, 1068

Cokho passed by the remains of Zulban Admiredwhip and the undead camels. He spat on the ground in disgust, "Bah! Always a brides maid, never a bride!"

Likot nearby overheard the old hauler's outburst, "Ha! At least you haven't had to go through a divorce!" Her laughter followed Cokho as he beat his dutiful pace to his next object that required his attention as to its placement.

[Jim Groovester]

The journal of Lieutenant Hikan Riddlewire, hidden in the wastes.
Entry for the week of 8th Sandstone, 1068.

This is becoming ridiculous. Istrath is now in on Makrond and the vigilante's game. If this keeps up, pretty soon, the whole fortress will be collaborating with the guy except for me. I'll be running to and fro chasing hints from the whole city, all the while they're all laughing at me because I don't know their little secret.

Despite all that, the new signal is pretty nifty, if I didn't have to humble myself before those two idiots. I tested it out in my room after I got it. It's quite impressive, I just flick a switch and a stupid symbol is illuminated on the wall. I think this thing will be getting a lot of use. And maybe I can lure the vigilante into a trap with it, as payback for making me jump through all these hoops for the past several months.

While I was doing a search of the Poison Temple I bumped into a dwarf I had never seen before. He introduced himself, apologized, and went on his way. I almost burst out laughing at the guy's name. I mean, Cokho Roknut? Why didn't his parents just name him Peniswhore Stonetesticle instead?

I don't think I'll ever be able to stop laughing at that guy's unfortunately inappropriate name.

[Groveller]

...

Now we need a character called Peniswhore Stonetesticle.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 17^th of Sandstone

Stravitch had been on quite a roll today.  His sermon was going into the fourth hour, and already at least two members of the congregation, forced to stand around the circular base of his raised dais, had passed out from the intense heat inside the cinnabar temple.  Stravitch was unsympathic, his voice nearly a scream as he bellowed down at them, "The heat in this damnable desert is nothing compared to the hot wrath that Lenod is pumping through my veins this very second.  Leave them on the floor, they'll absorb my sermon through their pores or I'll lob rocks at them from the catapult as they try to leave!"

Varen stood in the corner, wearing a half-mask respirator he had thankfully acquired from a surprisingly helpful Likot.  He dozed, leaning on the haft of his spear, unconcerned that his mask and leather apron filled the unwilling parishioners with even more disquiet. 

Outside, the masonry team was finally disassembling the last of their scaffolding, the faint clanking of the masons chissel and hammer heard softly through the thick stone walls.  With a snort, Varen raised his head quickly, eyes wide.  A couple of the Dwarves in attendance gasped at the sudden movement, their attention drawn briefly away from Stravitch.  But one of the Craftsdwarves that had looked dropped to the ground, a goblet clattering beside his unconscious body.  Varen ignored Stravitch's screams, dashing out the door.

As his boots hit the sand, Varen made a quick survey of the scene.  Seeing the mason, his hammer raised high above his head, it hit him - all at once.  "STOP!"  he shouted, but the hammer fell.  So did the stairs.

The mason shrieked as the stones began to clatter around him, but his cries were cut off as a shoulder caught him in the stomach, forcing the air out of him.  He was lifted off the ground and carried a few feet, smashing his back into the ground suddenly.  As the rumbling stopped, and the dust cleared, he saw Varen atop him, his back covered in dust.  The speardwarf glanced over his shoulder, and with the coast clear he stood up slowly, dusting off the back of his pants.  Before turning to leave, Varen offered these words of wisdom:

"You need to be more careful.  That could have been dangerous if I wasn't here.  Constant vigilance in everything you do, citizen.  Constant vigilance."

[sonerohi]

Varen is not the vigilante. It'd be way too obvious. Unless there is some reverse psychology happening. Or some reverse-reverse psychology.

[Luke_Prowler]

Goblin Leather +Journal+ of Luke Kolikal
17th of Sandstone

It would seem that an accident had occurred at the "poison temple", as the others had named it, nearly resulting in injury. It was fortunate that someone was their to help. I think it was Varen, but I do not know the others as I did my old squad. I wish I was still in Abbeybells, but when the mayor named himself the Emperor and started to prophet "all-consuming space bugs, indestructible metal men that out number the stars, and men of chaos that worship gods of lust, war, decay, and mutation", we (my family) decided to get the **** out of Boatmurdered.

While both temples were grand and wonderful, i can't help but feel that a there is a lack of any kind of monument to Armok. Not even a shrine. Maybe I should bring it up at the next meeting.

Note to self: I should also ask if anyone has been in my room, as their are several entries missing in my journal.

2nd note to self: I should also study more on the combat of the undead. I've fought with many goblin and other vile monsters, but I have little experience with the undead, as Maggarg had oh so helpfully pointed out (sarcasm doesn't go well on paper). I should show him first hand why I was the leader of the Copper Floodgates.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 26^th of Sandstone, 1068

Eita stalked from the main fortress to Dodiks' a proverbial raincloud over her head.  Her mornings were spent in training, pounding on the love-bird couple with her hammer.  Lunch was spent with Neo while he rested his arm, Dojango often flitting in to cluck and warn about the dangers the break in his deltoid tuberosity could pose to his heart.  After that, more training until she took her dinner with Maggarg and Adol over at the whore's house. 

She heard a shrill scream as she neared the covered walkway, and spun on her heel, hammer at the ready.  Glacies, weighted down by all his trinkets and jewelery, shrieked again and pointed as a leering Goblin grabbed a handfull of gold and silver chains and snapped them from around his neck. 

The green skin was met with a hammer to the face.  It went staggering backwards, blood dribbling from his shattered mouth, the broken nose already bruising up and forcing his eyes half closed.  Her bad mood physically manafest, she swung the hammer again and hit the Goblin in the stomach, dropping him to the ground on his back. 

"STA'H!  AH LA"HD STA'H!" the goblin screamed, a shower of blood and teeth fragments spraying from his mouth.
Eita raised the hammer again, the head striking the sand beside his head, missing by an inch as he tried to squirm away.

She paused with the hammer raised above her head as a voice boomed from behind her, "Miss Eita, you're doing it all wrong."

She looked back to see Sgt. Pepper striding towards her in his long-legged, ungainly gait, trailed by his smirking girlfriend Archin.  Eita growled and pointed to the groaning Goblin, "Back off corpse, you're walking on thin ice - just get back to the fort and out of our hair."
"That's no way to talk to a fortress hero," Archin snapped. 
"She's right.  Here, let me show you how it's done."

Before she could move, Sgt. Pepper was standing over the goblin, his axe singing through the air.  The goblin shrieked as his arm was cleaved off at the shoulder, blood spraying out like a firehose.
"He's not gone yet, you big dead retard."
"Well isn't that the oddest thing." he said, his voice a monotone.  He reached down, gripping the goblin by his blood drenched shirt and hauled him to a wobbly stand, rearing back with his axe again. 

With a thud, Eita's hammer struck the goblin in the chest, and he went soaring across the sand.  His heels dug twin trails for a foot before going airborn, touching down a few yards away, sending the goblin rolling into a ditch.
"I think he's dead now," She said smugly.
"I think you're aiding a fiend escape!  He's mine!"
"LIKE HELL!  STOP RUNNING OVER THERE, HE'S MINE!"

[Jim Groovester]

I just thought I'd quickly point out something. The one year anniversary of Migrursut is coming up pretty soon, nine days from now.