Deep within the bowels of the fortress, I confront my son. Lord Lemonpie sits at his desk, muttering about the gods, about actions foul and good. His mind, I reflect with sadness, seems to have been shaken by recent events. Nevertheless, I have an urgent request for him; Save us from fire!
Lord Lemonpie gapes at the reports, and looks at me with fear. “The gods don’t listen to me,” he moaned. “Afer helped last time, but without the frog, my frog, I am nothing…” I listen, and hear the desperation beneath his tone. We need him. The fortress is made of wood, by all that’s holy. Without the gods, this fire will surely consume us all and spit us out, so many corpses for the army of Ur. The Mountainhomes will never stand with its last bastion fallen.
And so I do what needs to be done. It hurts me to do this, but I know the flesh I wear. The face I give to the world. It is an old one, grey haired and creased with cares. It is the face of this man’s mother.
And so I slap him across the face, feel the sting of impact rising along my palm. “You will do it, son. You will pray to the gods, and you will see to it that our fortress survives this hell!” Lord Lemonpie only gapes once more, a red imprint rising on his cheek. Anger rises, then shame. His head falls. A mother’s word is law.
“Yes, ma.”
I turn from him as he begins to beseech the gods, closing my eyes. What have I become, that I would impersonate a man’s mother? And the hard answer comes back, hard but true; you are their protector, and sometimes a protector needs to fight dirty. Still, it hurts.
From behind, Lemonpie begins to moan, and I turn around. He lies on the ground, face vacant, drooling. I feel a spike of fear, then feel…a presence. I remember a hand of flame, a face of fear. Magma and hate and blood. Armok. I can feel his presence, thick on the air. Lemonpie gibbers, and I know that this time, Armok has not come for me. His attention is on the Highpriest, and all his hate is collected.
Lemonpie screams.
I step forward, thinking to stop this rite, to protect, as is my job… but then Lemonpie’s jaw clenches, and he rises to his knees, fury painted on his face. “Begone! Let thy fury dispel, creature of the void! By the rainbow and the cleanliness of water, I forbid thee entrance here! Leave!” A chuckle, then, faintly heard, as pebbles grinding together. But the presence…lessens. Lemonpie stands, face calm, eyes closed.
“Begone,” he whispers.
And suddenly, I hear the voice of Armok, growing smaller. But still there. “DO NOT FEAR, HIGH PRIEST. I WILL LEAVE. BUT I AM STILL WITH YOU, ALWAYS. AND THIS DEFIANCE WILL COME WITH A PRICE. ONE PAID IN BLOOD.” And then nothing, but the sound of the High Priest falling to the ground, eyes closed, and the sound of shouts from above. “Afer has saved us!” They cried. “The fire is repelled from our walls!” Looking at the unconscious Forumite, I know the truth. Afer did save us, perhaps. But it was the courage of this one I had thought broken that did it. Long live Lemonpie, hero of the people.
21st Limestone
Some days passed happily enough. The trade caravan brought goods and luxuries from home, and even Apiks seems to have felt the festive spirit in the fortress. I recall my plans, now. To get the Mason Queen back on her throne, to oust Apiks from a state of power. My ranged unit is still weak, only a few Forumites. I do not know if it is possible. But I have more time than I had thought to deal with him.
Outside, all is grey and barren. Bare trees stretch clawing fingers towards the sky, and somehow, I recognise it. A moment of vertigo, a view of lakes of lava spreading and fires burning beneath a blackened sky accompanied by a fierce, boundless joy. Then I am back on Necrothreat’s battlements, looking over the greyness.
Should I feel joy, to see it so barren? Another feeling of vertigo, and I know the answer. It is not. The green is pushed back, and though I once hated it, I now know it for what it is. Life, a life now reigned in by the pursuing flames of Armok. Necrothreat is besieged by powers it does not understand, and this fire is only the start.
23rd Limestone
A dark hallway, barren and unseen. The highpriest, alone, wanders aimlessly, trying to gather his thoughts. His sacred temple is bloodied, and the name of Apiks carven upon his floor. Afer listened to him once, true, but Armok feeds on his thoughts as well.
What will they remember him for? Will they remember truth, after he dies, that there was a Forumite who spoke with gods, and who loved them for their divinity? Or will they speak of the back breaker, a Forumite wielding hammer in the name of a dark, elder god.
How will they remember him? Such are his thoughts, as he walks, silent, through the forgotten sections of this fortress. The frog is absent. His cathedral broken. His mind besieged.
He stops, staring at a portal in the stone. Inside is a library, hidden and concealed. He shakes his head, despondent, and walks on. He does not care any more. Even the music pounding through the walls, the music that others don’t seem to hear, does not interest him. His thoughts are on posterity, and are dark.
In front, a figure appears. On its head is a crown of wood. He stops, staring. Apiks. He has come for the High Priest. The blood price for his challenge to Armok must be paid.
Then the figure comes closer, and he sees the subtle curves of a feminine figure. A wise face, old in wisdom if not years, and hands thickened by work with the file and the chisel. The Queen of Masons stands before him, dimly lit, a crown blazing on her head. Her eyes are vacant, empty of thought, but he can see something coiled deep within. Armok.
“The price must be paid” the woman mutters, and her fist comes forward. All goes dark, but for the pain.
By Omer and Idrath, the pain.
29th Limestone
Th4DwArfY1 gapes at the damage done to the noble Forumite, sees the lacerations and the broken spine. This is the price, paid in full. The price of Lemonpie’s legs. The nurse, the kind Queen of Masons, informs him that Lemonpie will never walk again. She frowns with sadness at the unconscious priest, then moves away. She had been tending to him night and day, always careful of his pains.
And Th4DwArfY1… he stands vigil over the bed. It is expected of him, as the supposed mother of a child. And what’s more, he feels it to be his duty to the holy man. One of the few in this fortress whose mind was bent on the improvement of the fortress.
Eventually, a messenger comes to summon him away. He leaves Lemonpie with reluctance, but rests assured that the man is in good hands. The Queen of Masons comes forward to tend to him as soon as I leave, an angel of mercy. Some way must be found to place her on the throne… but not yet.
The messenger brings him to where a stream of Forumites is appearing on the horizon, trudging through ash and grime.
We now have a total of 91 Forumites, a healthy community. There is still rot here, though. Th4DwArfY1 stands with hand raised to ward off the unwelcome glare of the sun, and watches the tide of Forumites appear. He had been depressed for many years before taking this command, after Sprin had taken his mind. Now, he was not depressed. He was sad, true, but not for himself; for this great fortress.
And the Forumites trudge through the gates, and over the bodies laid there. They look down in curiosity as their feet trample over the bodies of our enemies. This is the life they will know.
Th4DwArfY1 turns to leave, knowing the struggle must go on. But as he does, he sees something else. Lemonpie, moving through the stream entering the fort. His legs don’t work, but he pulls himself along through filth and dirt, determination on his face. Wonder warms the tired Forumite’s heart at this act of resilience.
And then Lemonpie is with him, carefully arranging his useless feet beneath him into a sitting position. The sun’s glare does not seem to bother him; he bathes in its warmth. Then he speaks.
“The gods have spoken to me, in my dreams. The rainbow has risen in my mind. You can not continue to rule. If you do, great ruin will come. Apiks will gather his forces, and you will die. The fortress will be overturned in blood.” Th4DwArfY1 frowns, but the Highpriest continues. “Step down, play the long game. There will come one…with sword bared…who will make the highest tremble. This the gods have told me. It takes much to rise to power in order to protect the people. It takes more to relinquish that power, for the same reason.”
I hesitate, thinking of my plans, the toppling of Apiks the Cruel. And then I see the sincerity in Lemonpie’s eyes, and something occurs to me. I trust this Forumite, I, Th4DwArfY1, who has never trusted any but himself. Himself, and what the memories of Sprin show him of a different self, friend to Apiks and NAV.
Knowing this, I relent, and bow my head. And the sun sinks below the horizon, bringing night. A night that would be banished by a new dawning, great and terrible.
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Welcome back, Highmax! It's good to see one of the Necrothreat old guard coming back.