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[TD1]

I'll try to update again today. I've been doing a seven day week the last while, so motivation hasn't been the best.

[highmax28]

I've been busy dealing with high stress, preparing for classes, 40 hours of work a week and moving out. What did I miss?

[TD1]

Not much. At this point, if someone else wants to complete NT I will give them the save. I just don't have the time I thought I would have this summer, what with two jobs and working 7 days a week.

[TheOGHoneybadger]

I have followed necrothreat since the end of necrothreat III but haven't had the time to even add a reply on here in months. RL sucks lmao. I don't know if I even have time now to be honest... I would be honored to slit the throat of the great beast if it would be allowed. I haven't played dwarf fortress in months either, I will boot up tonight and begin practicing

[Sprin]

So whats going on

[Enemy post]

We're trying to find someone willing to end the fort. I'm updating the mod.

[TD1]

Back to university next week, will actually have time off working every now and then. So I guess I can finish it.

In preparation for the End, I have a taster of Th4DwArfY1's despair to share.

Where now the thorn and blossom
To rest on golden head
And where the blades of lightning
On the dew of foemen fed.
Where rides the horseman
In his cloak of grey
And bides our phantom honour
Yet beneath the eye of day?

The petals thicken on the grave-place
And the strength of light grows weak,
To ember dying is constrained
The flames of yesterweek.
In deepness, darkness, bole and cave
Where starlight filters through a glade
Or dances subtly on a carven door
The footsteps of the artists fade.

So where have they gone to
Of the lance and bridle fair?
How comes this silence neath the earth,
In den and hut and lair?
The petals strew the ground, alas,
And muffle all attempts to hear.
Would they were gone, so I could know
What yet is dwelling here.

[highmax28]

I was just thinking about this. I gotta get caught up first though...

Wait. No one wanted to take a turn and this sorta just died after lemonpie took over? Wow, I didn't miss much

Hand me the save. I'll give us one more turn into the fray before we send this off in glory. I have long breaks between classes, so I can do turns no problem (and I'm also not dealing with 40+ hours a week at work and moving out)

[TD1]

Sure. I'll take the next turn after then.

[apiks]

Oh, we were at the Godkiller Ursus Lemonopie save last. That was pretty fun from what I remember.

I'd like to say I'll take the one after, but I suspect it'll coincide with my exams so we'll see.

[highmax28]

Was writing a post and then I BSOD'd about a month in. Bear with me...

[apiks]

Ah yes, the curse of Necrothreat, an unfortunate case of stories invading the real world.

[highmax28]

Morul collapsed into her hands as she sat down to do her regular bean counting. She was the youngest noble in Necrothreat; elevated by King Apiks at the recommendation of others. She had everything she needed in her life at the young age of thirteen. A safe job where she rarely had to go outside into the scorched wasteland, she never had to fight, and even gained personal praise of her King (or the Tyrant, as others would have said), and she had her pick of the finest food and wine (which was becoming a scarce commodity nowadays).

Morul reached for her mug blindly, groping at the air before bumping into it and spilling some of her wine on the papers she had. It didn't matter to her. Nothing did anymore. She was living the best possible life in Hell and she knew it was still awful. The memories of what happened in the forges below when she was a child still burned in her mind like the magma that burned bits of her hair that day. And the hordes of foreign dancers flocking to flee this place, rushing to escape this place since they could. But Morul coudln't. She was born here, and she would die here. The endless piles of corpses and bones that her Lord hoarded added to the grim atmosphere; a constant reminder of her fate.

Downing her drink, she stopped her bean counting to pull out a reddened set of damaged pages. They were soaked through with blood, but the writing was still perfectly intact. Morul pulled out the last few sheets; the bean counting could wait. After all, she was nearly done reading the last known record of that madman down below: Highmax. She didn't read out of curiosity, but out of fear. Fear of the curse he put on Necrothreat with his dying words, that they would all be doomed to live as he did. She knew the nature of these papers was grim; she was told a servant of Armok appeared and tried to kill her King, but it was defeated by his lawman, but not without killing the loremaster. But Morul knew the truth. She knew Highmax was this servant, though no one dared to question Apiks or Rogue. Morul could see it as if she was there herself, but couldn't tell why. She couldn't remember...

She heard shouting down the hall; another demand from His Majesty. A ban on crowns

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Morale was low. The people were all but ready to give up, debating whether to suffer the wrath of the King by leaving, throwing themselves into the makeshift moat, or waiting to die. They called to the gods for miracles, but the priest had locked himself away in madness. Those who weren't bogged down by depression or accepted their mortality were few and far between now, as they seemed to slowly drift into silence; fading to nothingness. As she flipped through the last of the bloodcoated pages, she grasped at her eye. She was told it was damage from being so close to magma as a child, but she knew it was far worse. Many days now she questioned if they made her bean counter not because of her organization skill, but rather to keep her from the military. She knew at a young age, she had powers that few had; power over magic. But her power was strange, as it seemed to be fighting her every time she tried to use it.

She put away the pages and continued her bean counting before passing out as night fell.

Awaken, my child

Morul jolted awake to find herself in a strange void. She grasped in the air to find her bearings but she felt she was powerless to move here.

Morul Godenmatzang. You were cheated into a fate that you were not meant to have

Her mouth stood agape as the words were met with dozens of figures appearing before her, all outlined in blue

This is the first time that an heir was chosen that did not come from my bloodline. You inherited a war that you were never meant to fight in. While we grieve for this curse you unwillingly took, your fate cannot be changed

Morul froze. Curse? War? Bloodline? Realization set in as she tried to weep but tears could not come out. She felt only emptiness

Do not weep, my child. You will bear the name and redeem us. You can show the world that the name Highmax does not spell doom for them; that zeal and devotion do not mean anything in the face of honor. The one before you lost this in his desire when he was young when he lost everything. We are knights dedicated to defeating Ur and his forces. But we are also guardians of Necrothreat. You will serve us until you are with child, and then, from choice I made in times long past, they will serve Necrothreat in kind. I cannot undo what I did, but I can do what I can to guide you so that we all may rest

Morul watched the figure before step aside as she bore witness to hundreds of men and women bearing similar resemblance to one another fought undead. Some with quick finesse, others with brutal force. All of them carried a sword made of adamantine. She watched in amazement and horror as she saw countless enemies bearing down on these men and women, slaughtering many undead and other enemies to Necrothreat before watching them be mortally wounded. She felt lurching in her stomach as some of them were torn apart even; a sight she never could get used to

This is your heritage now, my child. We live. We serve the people of Necrothreat, and we die defending it. But if there is no heir, you will return before long. This is the curse of our line. And now, like me, you will never know the afterlife until Ur lies defeated

The well of emotions was too much; anger, sorrow, sadness, fury and many more feelings that she had never felt before came up. Why did it have to be her? Curse that damn Quill for dooming her to this fate! Curse Lord Lemonpie! Curse them all!

Now you understand why I did what I did

She tried to turn but couldn't move, but she knew who it was from his dark voice. An aura of blue swirling with red stood next to her.

You hold the powers of all of us before you; myself included. You are the second to be embraced with Armok's power. Do with it what you will. There's a lot of power in you that lies untapped. More than myself, more than others. But you are no warrior

The figure quickly jolted to her face, although she saw nothing but the aura

You are nothing! You are powerless to this fate that you are given. You will either die in vain as these others did, or you will live forever; going mad from losing everything for something you didn't have control over

Morul struggled against the void before trying to scream. But this time, her scream was all she heard as light engulfed her.


Lord Lemonpie ran his mug under the barrel of rum and took a big drink. The curse had made him from a priest to a man in rags. He felt the wearing of age on his body. He was young in moons, but he felt the age of three lifetimes in him. His back was fixed thanks to the bear, and he could walk again, but there was little he could do. He downed his drink and reached again at the keg for another drink, only to drop his mug.

"Bollocks!"

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

 Normally he was quite well mannered and above such sayings, but having lost everything, he didn't care about anything anymore; just as many others did. A cloaked woman handed him a mug. Without thinking, he took it and drank again, before dropping the mug and pressing himself against the wall. "Stay back! I locked myself away so I couldn't hurt anyone!"

The woman smiled. "Do not be afraid, Archpreist of Omer. I come to you in this time to ask you to perform a miracle before the masses." Lord Lemonpie recoiled at her words and then scoffed. "You are a fool to think the bear will spare you. Omer is dead thanks to me, and this place is doomed! No miracle can save us!"

The woman kneeled before the cowering man. "You are the last shred of hope we have left. Even if the gods are gone, we can rely on the strength of unity among the forumites. Omer lives on in you, Archpreist, and the people see that. I can see it."

The grizzled man pulled his hair back. "Who... Who are you?"

The woman softly smiled as she pulled back her hood, revealing one of her eyes to be both red and blue, split perfectly down the middle. She was barely old enough to be considered an adult. Lord Lemonpie turned to tears as he recognized the young woman now grown up.

"The one who will save Necrothreat.

Call me Highmax"

EDIT:
((Forgot pictures, bear with me))

EDIT2:
((Added images. Bear with me, anyone know whats up with Lemonpie's age? Last I checked he was 20))

[apiks]

I guess mass-producing crowns inflated the crown economy a wee bit too much. Ban them!

[highmax28]

A great roar was heard throughout the hall, but this time, it wasn't distant. it was VERY near. The King gave his order; this time the might of Necrothreat would see this to the end. One order was given and all of Necrothreat heard:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Soldiers scrambled from their posts and rushed to the scene. They weren't ready for what they were about to see. One unlucky recruit came first and tried to fight the bear, but only felt the embrace of death upon him as the bear bore down on him. Other, more trained forumites arrived, using their weapons to subdue the bear with their weapons. One gamer captain stepped forward and began to wrestle the bear, dodging expertly until landing a shot on his upper body. Twice now, would the bear know how it is to never walk again

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

But the bear would not give up its host. The bear lashed out and wounded the captain, but others arrived. Strike after strike the bear took the attacks, but it wasn't before long till fourmites with blades showed up. Soon, the bear let out a roar of defiance, swinging wildly, killing some and wounding three others. One axelord's last defiant act was to strike the bear in the skull, and his strike was true, landing a hit strong enough to fell the beast.

The bear reeled in pain in its last moment before reverting back to its true form, revealing LordLemonpie the Archpriest. He smiled. "Forgive me Omer, for the pains I bring upon the people..." The priest let out a last breath as he breathed his last, free of his curse.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Many attended the funeral of the priest, even the King himself, despite the disdain the two had for one another. A respected figure among the people was slain.

"Its a shame."

Apiks turned to the woman next to him who looked on with an emotionless face. She spoke up "Its hard to cry and mourn for a man when you know you'll be seeing him soon..." Apiks let out a sigh of relief. "I understand, Morul. It is a shame the masses can't mourn for him. We must continue to do our part." Morul turned to her Lord. "Your Highness, I must ask. What do yo think is our fate here in Necrothreat?" Apiks looked on. "You're asking a tall question that not many can easily answer. Tell me what you think before I share mine." She smiled. "I believe you told me, my King, that everything we do is for the survival of Necrothreat. I think that is what the Archpriest wanted all along. Your excellency and the Archpreist just disagreed on how to go about it." Apiks nodded slowly as she continued. "We need unity more than anything. I have heard the people speak about how bleak things are. I want to show them that we aren't doomed to death just yet, your Highness."

A messenger broke the conversation. Apiks opened up the message and read it, nearly crumpling in his hand before the woman spoke. "Show them that you aren't a tyrant, my Lord." Apiks looked down at the note and nodded, handing a quick response to the messenger. "I will show the world that while my foes will be crushed at my heel, that I am equally as merciful. Let the Hillocks join our cause."

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Silence fell over the tomb of LordLemonpie, days after his burial. Highmax stood over it, stern but then letting out a small smirk as she brushed her hand over the coffin

"This is only the start..."

EDIT:
((Realized my pictures weren't linking properly in my first post. Fixed it. No longer have a bear with me ))