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[IronValley]

Spoiler: More pictures of Stravitch babysitting (click to show/hide)

I was originally going to MSPaint it up a little, maybe put some pants and a beard on him.  But I really doubt he'd bother getting dressed for the occasion. 

And fixed.  Who would have thought image leeching was a bad thing? 

Vigeland was way ahead of his time.... In his brilliance he did a perfect render of Stavitch, a shame he humanized him.... Ofcourse, if he didn't, the norwegian population would probably pain the statue with artist blood....

[Rysith]

For some reason that I can't explain, I find that image hilarious.

[Heavy Flak]

Szondi's Journal,
19^th of Hematite, 1069

Humans arrived.  Brought with them filth and arrogance; infects our people, makes them mistreat others in order to appease their tall abusers.  Guild Representative Filledrobust gone missing in wastes.  Merchants saw herd of camels, I suspect smaller beast hunting her prey.  Saw silhouette of dwarven couple engraved into stonework by main gate by pornographer.  Always gives me pause, feel uncomfortable; humans love it of course.

Jotwebe continues to create masterpieces by the bin-full.  No Dwarves have gone missing lately but bone continues to be used.  Very proud of her work.  Makes me suspicious.  Make note to investigate her further.  Investigate old hauler too, he seems too content as just a hauler.  Ulterior motives?  Maybe.  Too many need watching.

Hikan refuses to cooperate with group, but that is to be expected.  Makrond fashioned him suit to hide identity.  Threw it in magma.  Istrath tried and got punched.  Refuses to hide his identy behind name we gave him.  Wanted to call him, "Irony", but refused.  Said he'd find his own "costume", wants to be called "maudlin".  Fine.  Run with it.  Reminds me of joke.

Farmer finds Viper on side of road freezing in the snow.  Snake says, "Please kind farmer, pick me up, help me, I am dying of cold."

Farmer says, "No you are a Viper.  You will poison me."
Viper says, "Why would I?  You will have helped me.  That is foolish."
Farmer sees wisdom in this.  He picks up snake and puts him in coat to warm him and sets out for home.  When he is within sight of his home, the snake is revived by the warmth.  He bites the farmer. 

As the farmer lays dying in the snow, he asks, "Why did you do that?"
"Because I am a snake.  It is what I do." Viper says.
Farmer replies, "I see where kindness gets me!" and dies.

Good joke.  Everyone laughs. 

[CanadianWolverine]

Cokho Roknut:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

Diary of maggarg
The humans arrived today. That means extra damn guard duty under those two incompetents.
Not that I mind getting out of the fortress, apparently there's more than one masked nutter about, and that's just a bit worrying when you've got a list of, um, activities longer than a titan's arm.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 4^th of Malachite, 1069

Jools and Vash stopped in the middle of the dusty road-way.  Jools, his eyes squinted, stared at the trading depot without comprehension.  It took Vash giving him a hard nudge in the ribs before the swords-dwarf came to his senses.

"That's not Aryn in there shafting the human traders."
Vash tugged on the sleeve of his zebra-print suit.  "No, that looks like Miner Wallgirders.  We... should probably leave."
"Why?"
"Because as soon as Aryn sees this, there will be grave punishments."
"Please.  I'm a soldier now!" Jools said, puffing his chest out with pride.
"You're... well, yes, you are, but..."
"But nothing, come on."

Jools sauntered up to the trade depot, his chest puffed out, his much-practiced soldier's walk carrying him quickly across the stones.  Vash kept step just behind his friend.  He moped his brow with a monogramed kerchief, his mouth pulled down in a frown.

"And what seems to be going on here?" Jools asked.  He rested his hands on his hips, and his tone was one of authority. 
"Hmm?"  Wallgirders turned to look at the two.  He smiled, and gave a nod of greeting.  "I'm the trader today!"
"And where is Aryn?" Vash asked.  Jools glanced at him, but let the question pass.
"Well, funny story.  See, Aryn's exhusted and went to bed.  He told Glacies to do this.  But Glacies refuses to talk to the humans, so, he told Lugnut to get up here and do it."
"Where is Lugnut then?" Jools asked.
"Oh, he was hanging out with Lucy, and he asked that Archin come up here.  That's where I came in, because Archin said this was a useless endevor."

The pair examined the stacks of goods the humans were hauling into separate pile.  The traders looked ecstatic, their grins stretching from ear to ear, and the lead trader was talking hurriedly in their own tongue to two of the wagon drivers.  The wagoneers looked horrified. 
"What did we get?" Vash asked.
"A bunch of salt-meats, many drinks, some more anvils, couple barrels of leather, many bars... that's about it."
"And you gave them ALL this?" Vash said, his voice cracking.
"Yeah, sure, why?"

Jools looked at his friend, eyes narrowing again.  The metalworker was chewing his lower lip, pointing at barrels and bins.  Within a minute, he groaned and staggered back, "You gave them around... a thirty thousand monies profit."
"No!" Wallgirders exclaimed.
"Yeah, thirty thousand, maybe a little more."
"Oh, I should... that's not..."

"You were right, Vash.  We should leave, now.  Good luck!" Jools said, nearly sprinting from the trade depot.

[Heavy Flak]

OOC Stuff:

We got the warning yesterday that this fortress is "too much of a death trap" for anyone sane to want to come to.  With that in mind, Dwarves still didn't show up.  I'm going to check the init.ini file and up the pop cap if I have to, in an attempt to spark some more.

With that in mind, I'm going to need a new list of people who want in.  I'll do it when I get off of work, unless some kind soul wants to scan the last 10 or 15 pages for the few character requests (please, let there be a kind soul!)

Edit: and, done!  Reader sdp0et sent me a list in pm so it'll be harder for me to ignore and lose a second time.  Thanks again <3

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 11^th of Malachite, 1069

With a stretch, and a yawn, Aryn woke up.  He kicked the covers off of him, the thin material pooling on the floor.  His hand flopped up and scratched as his stomach before he sat up in bed wearing only a pair of shorts. 

"BY LENOD'S FIERY BEARD!" he screamed.
"What?" Glacies asked from the chair in the corner of the room.
"WHY ARE YOU IN HERE!" Aryn asked, his back against the wall, his heart beating so hard he could feel it in his head.
"Oh, I was waiting for you to wake up from your nap," Glacies said with a grin.  His silver teeth-covering glinted in the torch light.

It took a minute before he was able to talk calmly.  In that time, Aryn rubbed at his eyes hard.  His mouth tasted terrible, and he winced as he noticed it.  "How long was I out?"
"About ten days, or so," Glacies said.

Aryn nodded.  "Decent nap... now tell me why you're here, before I let my bear maul you."
"Oh, right, well, I didn't get a chance to get to the depot."
"And?"
"Someone did, eventually."
"...And?"
"Guess how much of a profit the traders made."

Aryn shrugged before he smoothed back his thinning hair.  "I have no idea.  How much."
"Thirty nine thousand, six hundred monies."
"...Th-thirty.... no."
"Oh yes.  Wait.  Are you alright?"

Aryn was vibrating on the bed.  His face had turned a horrifying shade of purple, his eyes bulging from their sockets.  His voice was hoarse, barely audiable, "Almost... forty thousand?"
"...Uhh, yes.  That's right."  Almost as an afterthought, he said, "It was one of the miners.  Not me.  The miners."
"I'm... going to get dressed.  Get the miners in the mess hall.  I need... to speak to them."

[Mad Larks]

Oh dear. Thats...thats a lot of monies. I guess this'll be an impressive immigration.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 23^rd of Malachite, 1069

"Archin.  Come along.  Valania says it is time for you to eat."
"I can't," Archin snapped.  "Aryn has me working for my Miner's Sins."

Sgt. Pepper snorted, burly arms folding over his great chest.  Valania stood beside him, her head tilted back.  She stared at the rough-cut stones on the ceiling, little hands worrying at the front of her trench coat.

"Am I expected to smooth that?" She asked.
"Eventually," Archin replied. 
"And just what is this folly," Sgt. Pepper asked.  He was having a hard time keeping the laugther from bubbling forth.  Archin's eyes narrowed, noticing all to well the tone in his voice.

"Thanks to the large amounts of money that walked out with the humans by a 'Miner', Aryn is punishing us all.  That is why it is just myself and Wallgirders.  The rest of the miners have dropped the profession, and have taken up masonry."

Sgt. Pepper shook his head slowly.  "Forget this worthless task.  You need food to live.  What can Aryn do, really?  His true authority was short-lived."
"What are you talking about.  Aryn's threatened to sic Hikan on us.  I could throttle that fool in a fair fight, crush his skull in with a damn rock, but with that spear of his he'd just poke me full of holes, leave me to bleed out-"

Sgt. Pepper snorted again.  "Didn't you hear the cheering?  Aryn couldn't even win a rigged election.  He was voted out of power.  The Jeweler's Son, Limul, was elected Mayor."

Archin couldn't hide the shock.  "No!  The... jeweler's son?"
"Aye," Valania chimed in, her voice raspy from the once-slit throat.  "Istrath is racing around the fortress shoving drinks into the hands of anyone he sees.  Jotwebe and Akroma are particularly pleased that one of their own has ascended to power.  Even Kuli seems happy - there's a Zefonist in charge now.  There is change in the works, don't you know."

Archin paused, leaning heavily on her pick.  She chewed on her lower lip, and after a few seconds, a wide grin spread over her face.  She hafted the mining tool and drove the spike into the wall, leaving it embedded in the stone.  "This DOES call for a celebration.  Yes, let's go eat, and report to the Boss.  He'll be pleased as can be that there'll be a few less of that braying ass's orders that need to be concerned with."

[Kuli]

That's change we can believe in!

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

Diary of Maggarg
Looks like Migrursut'll be getting more, er, normal nowadays.
Aryn's so desperately unpopular he can't even win an election where he has the only vote! That means no more Riddlewire and no more bloody glass things.

[Heavy Flak]

The 6^th Galena, 1069

"Dad, please, you can stop,"
"I just can't!" Istrath slurred.  Makrond looked uncomfortable as his glass was filled to the top with more whiskey.  "This is just, just too good.  Ya' know?  Just too good."

"Ughh..." Limul shook his head and turned to survey the room.  The hustle and bustle of the haulers was cathartic.  Cokho Roknut was slouching around, hauling drapes.  His fellow workers were straining underneath cabinets and weapon racks.  A double-bed had already been assembled and Limul was currently throwing sheets onto it.

"The room is excellent, sir," Makrond said.  "Prime property, of course, but as for the decor, well..."
"Well what?" Limul asked.  "I tasked the engravers to spruce this place up.  Give it some zazz, you know?"
"Did you actually see who the workers were?" Istrath asked in a moment of clarity. 
"...No, engravers are engravers... why, who was it?"
"Well," Makrond said.  "Valania started things off, and Stravitch got irritated.  Said he wasn't represented in a 'full enough capacity', whatever that means.  Anyway, he hired a mason-turned-engraver, and... well..."

Limul groaned.  "Can we get rid of them?"
"And incur all their wraths?"
"I suppose not... well, how bad is it, really?"

Makrond shrugged.  "Valania engraved fourteen tributes to Rice in your floor.  And Stravitch's proxy, well... you should just see them for yourself."

The Fragil Finger
Engraved on the floor is an exceptionally designed image of Goden Speakcudgle the dwarf and rings by Ingish Ormiststinthad.  Goden Speakcudgle is surrounded by the rings."

"What is THAT," Limul asked. 
"That's Stravitch punishing the butcher who had his hand cut off outside our fortress.  He's wrapped up in those rings."
"Horrifying."

The Pulps of Muting
Engraved on the floor is a masterfully designed image of Libash Craftfell the dwarf and Stravitch Fillwhip the Gloved Shred of Watches the dwarf by Ingish Ormiststinthad.  Libash Craftfell is making a plaintive gesture.  Stravitch Fillwhip the Gloved Shred of Watches is striking a menacing pose.  The artwork relates to the mortal wounding of the dwarf Libash Craftfell by the dwarf Stravitch Fillwhip in Oceanbled in the early autumn of 1060

"I don't even remember that happening," Limul said.
"I doubt anyone does.  It was probably on a 'hunting accident'.  Or just one of the dwarves that vanished..."
"I probably shouldn't get rid of the engravings, shoudl I?" Limul asked suddenly.
"Probably not in your best interests, no," Istrath said, taking a pull from his bottle.

[Jim Groovester]

The journal of Hikan Riddlewire, hidden in the wastes.
Entry for the week of 22nd Malachite, 1069.

Aryn summoned me to his office recently and had a few words for me. "Hikan," he told me. "What the hell have you been doing? I lost the election to the mayorship, the election that you were supposed to rig."

I wasn't even aware that that was one of my duties. I mean, I've expanded the scope of my position as Aryn's bodyguard to include such tasks as intimidating the populace, stopping crime and sabotage, sniffing out unsavory elements, making reports about suspicious members of the populace, checking security, and in general, protectecting Aryn's interests. But I didn't know that 'defraud a democratic process that has never worked properly before' was among them.

Of course, Istrath is positively beaming that his son was elected mayor. It's the only thing he talks about when the three goofy idiots and me meet for our nightly 'Gathering of Interested Crimefighters'. That's Vatek's name for our group. I think it's a horrible name, and I told them such. When I said that at the last meeting, the three idiots had evidently had enough, and started shouting at me at how I'm uncooperative, that Migrursut will fall if I don't play along, blah blah blah whine whine whine. I tuned it out after a wall and idly imagined what their heads would look like on my spear.

ibmat help me, what have I gotten myself into with these three idiots?

[Glacies]

Gatesmaw

"It appears, Kadol, that our new guests are in a spot of trouble."
"What?"
"The two dwarves, Kadol. They encountered a pack of ratmen in the blue rooms. They're...outnumbered, to say the least. Perhaps I should help them?"
"Hmm. I'm near there. I'll go help them. Personally."
"Just as you say."

Kadol pulled a lever on the back of the bronze tiger, and pulled a little wheel. The bronze tiger shot into action, leaping across the hallways and mazelike-structure that was the guts of gatesmaw, until he burst through a large set of double doors.

"Behold, it is I! Kadol Bloodclocks, to the rescue!" Kadol bellowed, as he burst into the hallway. Sarig nodded at him politely as he wiped his scimitar on a little cloth. Glacies stared into space.

"Oh. er. I see I am a tad late, but, er.."
"Say nothing of it, Mr. Bloodclocks. Thank yer' for showing up, all the same." Sarig said, conversationally. He spat on the severed head of a ratman. Glacies kneaded his forehead. "We are never opening doors like that again. I mean, come on."
*Ahem*
"And there's probably more of these things wandering around, too. It's just not *Ahem* fair. I go all this way, and get shipwrecked, and *AHEM* even lost in a cursed desert for what felt like a y"WILL YOU SHUT UP!?""
"Oh, sorry." said Glacies. "Wasn't paying attention. Who're you?"
"Right, well, glad we sorted this out. I am Kadol Bloodclocks, of the ancient lineage Bloodclocks! I come from a long line of machinists and mechanics, and I bid you welcome to my home!" said Kadol, in a grandoise voice.

"Bit of an elf problem, heh?" said Sarig, as he sheathed his scimitar.
"Well, er, yes. The vermin problem is sort of new. I havn't been home for a while. You could say this is my, er, ancenstral home." mumbled Bloodclocks.
"Ancestral home?" Glacies asked. "I lived here once, and I never head about them."
"Well, yes. The family hasn't always lived here. We do travel a lot. But back a few hundred years, Reg and Dumat Bloodclocks built the shrine to the gods of healing here, yes? And they were the descendants of the founder of gatesmaw, long ago. We've got a long and proud history."
"Right. Well. Er. Perhaps you know about the analytical machine here, then?"
"Is someone talking about me?"