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[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Late Spring

Kolok headed north as soon as he stepped out into the comparatively warm spring air. The swamps below in the valley floor were just now beginning to thaw, but the upper hills still lay locked in ice, except where the sun struck directly. Passing the site of his and Glacies battle with Heatedstabbed he looked again proudly at the site of battle. They were finally going about clean-up, gathering the bleached bones and goods that the mule had been carrying.

It was perhaps a surprise then that once they got to the location he found himself surrounded. Not by other dwarves coming to help carry goods, though there was one of the cultist just behind him, but by a goblin patrol, examining the site. The leader of the squad and his second both carried iron whips, with braided pieces of stone and bone woven into the tips. The other goblins were poorly equipped and all bore signs of repeated scourging. But seeing him they broke into fierce grins and quickly moved to surround him.

Blinking quickly, Kolok unfastened his axe in a flash, holding it before him. He could see only a few of them and knew that others could easily be sneaking up on him from his blind side. Kolok's bull was lumbering up behind him with another dwarf and it was they that interrupted the scene. Had it only been himelf Kolok might have attacked then and there, but with his beloved pet and another dwarf at stake he made a tactical choice, rather than a strategic one. Turning, he shouted, "Ambush! Make a run fer it."

The pair of dwarves turned, with the bull following bellowing loudly as one of the lasher struck it and began driving it to the east.

Stumbling over the rough terrain he shook his head. They'd never outdistance them like this.

"Split up!" Kolok shouted as he veered off to the south-east and drawing three of the five remaining goblins after himself.

After only a short ways he grinned, in spite of it. Turning on his heels suddenly, and lashing out with his axe at the goblin pursuing him, Kolok knocked him to the ground, stunning him. Before the other two goblins could respond he brought his axe crashing down, crushing the goblin's chest. The goblin squad leader shook out his whip while the other moved to flank, closing in to grappling range. It was he that bore the brunt of Koloks wrath and although the goblin managed to trip him up and bring him to the ground, allowing his leader to lash out viciously, drawing blood on Kolok's leg the goblin quickly realized that being attached to ten stone weight of pissed off dwarf was a bad thing. Kolok's off-handed punch sent the goblin reeling and the follow-up with his axe severed the goblins head cleanly.

It was either stupidity or courage that made the goblin leader stay and fight but after knocking a few feeble attacks aside Kolok severed his arm and shortly thereafter cut him cleanly in half.

Only by reaching down and pulling aside the tattered pants leg did he realize the extent of his wounds. He wouldn't be bed-ridden unless they got infected, but chasing after more goblins was out of the question. He needed rest.

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Draconius had been going to help carry things in as well, and the Hound had been walking with her when the alarm had been sounded. Only a few seconds later ahead and below them they could see Fikod being chased by a pair of goblins. Iton waved to her, getting the frantic dwarf's attention and pointed to a spot directly below them.

The goblins were not gaining on her, she could outrun at least one of them easily. But the other, he was quick, and outpacing him would be impossible. It was with no small relief that Fikod saw the two dwarves on the slope ahead and she smiled. She simply ran straight, weaving through the trees and doing her best to keep the goblins' attention on herself. Shortly after she passed the designated spot she heard muted shouts and two thuds. Turning, she found Draconius and the Hound each locked in battle with goblins. She went to help her friend, leaving the hound to fend for himself.

Charging in she almost caught the goblin by surprise but he managed to dodge to one side, kicking her in the leg in the process. Draconius struck out at him but again he managed to deflect the blow, catching only a glancing hit to the torso. The goblin, grinning, kicked some snow and dirt into Draconius' eyes, tackled her, grabbing her wrist and starting to force it behind her. In defense she cried out and kicked behind her but was unable to break the hold. Fikod tackled the pair and soon the three descended into a mess of kicking, biting and punching.

And just as suddenly they separated, the goblin rolling to one side breathing heavily. The Hound struck then, flying out to tackle the creature from behind a tree. They rolled for a second but when they came up the goblin was in a headlock. Grabbing his chin the Hound swiftly snapped it to one side and pushed forward, dropping the dead goblin to the ground.

He cocked his head to one side as the two others caught their breath. "You two ok?"

Fikod nodded, rubbing a few sore spots, and the Hound dashed off up the hill.

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Stukod grumbled as she walked back towards where she had left the others. She could pick up the trail from there. That cursed bull had been too swift for her to catch and she'd never gotten close enough to wrap her whip around it's leg to trip it up.

She spat on the ground when before her appeared another dwarf, apparently looking for something. She smiled. At least her time hadn't been wasted. An unarmed dwarf was a good target, even it was covered in tattered clothing. Her first hint that something was wrong came when he saw her. No sign of fear showed on his face as she closed and lashed out with her whip. He caught it on his arm as the barbed iron whip caught his flesh and tore into it. She smiled, but it quickly faded when he grabbed the whip with his other hand and yanked... hard. She fell forward as she let go of the weapon and the last sight she saw was his massive fist coming down on the side of her head.

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((Congrats Kolok, you're now

Kolok Crevicecloisters the Circumstantial Crypt of Singing  (Don't ask me... even I can't come up with something for a name like that.)

Paulus Chancesyrups is known as The Rumored Symmetry

Expect a few rapid fire posts here this week, as I've got a bit of time on my hands in the evening, since I'm out of town at a work-related conference.))

[FurnaceZer]

I am looking this topic for a long time now I found it.,Am really right that the topics and the content of it will be a big help.,


_________________
Furnace Filter

[Keita]

this is awesome, need to read the rest of the story though

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Early summer, Journal of Paulus Fahlstrom

More and more now I'm convinced that we're going to need some sort of standing military. It's just so stone-breaking difficult when every person is needed for other tasks. At least we're building our stockpile of weapons and armor, even if most of the weapons are copper or wood. Kolok has an iron axe, I have my steel hammer. Everything else is somewhat inferior. Good practice weapons to be certain, but not ideal for combat.

The Avarii have come and gone again, and I was half tempted to escort them out, just to avoid the problems of having them threaten our people when they go crazy. It must be something about the area that disrupts them somehow. The mountains certainly feel as if they have some sort of taint. Almost like it's cursed land somehow.

The insectoid ambush that happened just last week did nothing to help the situation we are in either. The human caravan had just arrived when a small insectoid patrol intercepted them. Thankfully there were no serious losses, but the merchants were driven off and unable to come trade this year. Our supplies are more than sufficient for the few dwarves that live here. We won't run out of drink for five years, to be sure.

Still, it all brings me back to my earlier comments. We need a standing military to help escort caravans and hunt down enemy patrols. And I fear we lack the population to have more than just two or three. Any more and our labors on Mondul's temple will be massively disrupted. We've begun work on the upper walls and already we've burned through nearly all our appropriate blocks. We may have to resort to using orthoclase for the flooring, which would be all right, but simply unacceptable for the walls.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Led was up above on the slope in the heat of the afternoon sun. Waves of heat danced off the exposed rock face as he surveyed the lands around them. Smallish patches of snow were still visible where the sun rarely struck but other than that the valley below was verdant and lush, full of life, while up on the hills it seemed to him they were the only living things. All else was dead, or reanimated dead.

He stood on the raised wall of the nearly completed level. There remained much to be done, truth be told, for it to be finally finished, some now, and some when the finishing touches would need to be put on. The masons were still bringing up blocks from below. He'd been down there a half hour before. The stockpiles were dwindling fast. They were simply using the blocks much faster than they could be produced. That was to be expected he supposed.

It was as he stood there contemplating what this meant to them that suddenly the heavens opened to his view and Mondul stood before him in her glory. Her nightcloak had been cast aside in the light and in it's place she wore a blazing cloak of brilliant white light, so that it obscured almost all of her features. Her body was wrapped in light and he was forced to squint to make out her face, but as he did so he could see her smiling.

"For your labors, Led, I bestow upon you a gift. A gift and a protection. May it serve you well until I call you to my side, to labor with me on this side."

He awoke later, in the dark, a single horse tallow candle guttering in it's holder. He recognized his workshop, where he carved bones in glory to Mondul. Turning he could see the gift his Lady had bestowed upon them. And though he knew that he himself crafted it with her knowledge he could not remember the process at all. It seemed a mysterious thing to him, but such a gift was not lightly given, nor received, if one were wise. He would have to think how best to ... utilize it.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Early Autumn

The face of the mountain as the liason and caravan approached was visibly changing. What it would become they were not sure, only the barest of walls graced the top but the extensive mining below indicated that it would likely be a large structure, embedded firmly into the native rock of the mountain itself.

Tekkud looked over at the merchants and saw many of them scowling as they approached and forced himself not to smile. He'd been given specific instructions from the King himself to observe that trade functioned reasonably well. Both of them knew that trade was the life-blood of a kingdom and that if they could not trade with others there would be little reason to produce trade goods. Which would cause massive unemployment, and loss of income, reducing their military potential and in general weakening their nation in many ways.

The scheming of nobles concerned him less than the true reasons for him coming there. Relations continued to sour with the elves. Following their proclamation regarding dwarven made goods the elves had siezed three caravans. There were no known survivors and though their own merchants continued to trade away dwarven goods there was an accepted tit-for-tat exchange happening. Not only that but a war patrol of the winged humans, the avarii, had been spotted travelling cautiously northwards. Such a patrol had never been seen before and it did not bode well.

While the merchants rolled in Tekkud made his way in and down to find Led. They'd known each other for a few years now and though he never felt truly comfortable in the self-proclaimed 'High Priest's' presence, he knew that the cultists were still loyal to the crown. The nobility were another matter, one of the main reasons that he had persuaded the king to not allow general immigration to this place. Allowing nobility to come here would exacerbate the problem greatly and he had little doubt that some would wind up dead from it. Such schisms could well cause a civil war, an unthinkable danger at a time like this.

"Greetings from the Mountainhome."

Led nodded slightly.

"Be welcome here then. We have food and drink aplenty. Rest yourself a while and we can meet at your convenience."

It was three days before he managed to find time to meet with the High Priest again, but he was able to speak at length with the head clerk and go over the outpost records. He was also very favorably impressed with some of the workdwarfship being put out. The artifacts that had been created were, of particular note, and many were quite valuable. He even took a rubbing of the magnificent golden crown that had been made, as well as making a sketch of it. It's presence alone helped relieve his mind. They'd found gold here and in sufficient abundance, he guessed, to use it in raw form as well as bars. That was good. The kingdom's coffers had been drained and the King and his advisors had been discussing imposing another tax in order to raise funds. All elven goods, or goods claimed from the elves were to be taxed heavily. Fully two thirds the value of those goods should be sent, via the merchants, back to the capitol for use by the kingdom.

He'd also swung by the Depot to view the trading. The cultists had set aside all the bars, some few older pieces of steel armor and some barrels of drink and food from the merchants goods and were bringing up, strangely enough, some cheaply made stone furniture, raw stone in abundance and a few bins of high quality red-backed large spider silk goods. Strangely enough, of apparent Avarii make. The human tribesmen would be happy to trade for those and most of the merchant profits would come from there. The rest, just took up space. It seemed to him that the cultists were dumping unwanted items on the merchants and he said as much to Led when they met again.

"Well, all seems to be in order here. It seems that you've been progressing well in strengthening your position here."

Led smiled, "We do what we can."

"Indeed. It seems to me that relations between you and the merchants are... somewhat strained."

Led shook his head and grew serious.

"Relations between us and the merchants are due almost exclusively to their own bias against us. A bias perpetuated by the nobles and guild to our continued loss."

Tekkud nodded.

"I'll not disagree with you there. But someone must take the first steps towards peace. Why do you not trade with them some of your better goods. That alone would improve your relations somewhat."

"It'll be a sunny day in the accursed Crack before I allow useable and necessary goods to be given, even in exchange with those bloody-handed thieves and bigots."

Tekkud raised his hands. "I understand, but..."

"No," Led grew somewhat angry, standing and pacing the room, "No. We've been hounded and persecuted for our beliefs at the whim of those nobles and guild leaders that feel we are wild-eyed fanatics. Our believers have lost their jobs suddenly, have been forced from their rooms and homes, have ben hunted and killed by mobs led by those likely bribed or paid by those same leaders.

No, there is no But. There can be no reconciliation between us. Not until they publicly apologize and make restitution to us." Led laughed bitterly. "And both of us know that that will never happen."

Tekkud pursed his lips and nodded. He hadn't been overly surprised by this reaction. From what he'd seen it'd been far worse than that in actuality. Rumors and the few secret reports that the King had allowed him to see had long since convinced him of the cultists tenuous position. And considerable pressure was being excercised upon the King by those same nobles even now.

He sighed. "Very well, I won't press the point. I do have quite a bit more work to do for the official report but I'll let you know when I'm ready to meet."

Led nodded. "The end of the year is a busy one for us, but I'll try to make time if I can."

Tekkud nodded and walked out of the barracks where he'd been meeting with Led. He sighed again and began rubbing his head. It would be a long season.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

27th of Hematite

Ragnar tossed and turned in her bed. She slept, but fitfully and though the bed was superb, one of Kolok's exceptional pieces of work she was finding it hard to relax. Something was disturbing her dreams and everytime she closed her eyes she saw the same thing. A flaming mountain in the distance, a massive volcano spewing forth lava and ash and rock from it's fiery maw. She would zoom closer until she would be almost above the summit and then she would awake in a sweat.

She'd been dreaming that off and on for nearly six months. She had considered at first that it might be something off in the drink. Some poisonous or hallucenogenic berry that slipped in unnoticed. But she knew Fre was too careful for that, and her assistants, Fath and Der Kartoffel were equally skilled.

She sighed.

Perhaps it was time to face her fears. Time to confront her dreams.

She lay down again, doing her best to relax and tried to keep her mind blank. Almost instantly the image of the volcano appeared, and it was as if she were flying towards it as it grew in her mind. The thought of flying made her somewhat queasy but she resolutely continued until the fiery mountain loomed large in her mind. Great chunks of stone and flame spewed forth as it erupted and she could almost feel the heat and hear the sound of pieces falling around her as she approached the summit.

The heat felt unbearable to her but despite it she forced herself to be calm and in so doing passed through the fiery barrier into the core of the mountain itself. Despite the raging flames she now felt quite cool and even the Magma itself did not touch her. A thrill of excitement tinged her emotions now, she'd never gotten quite so far. Below her in the magma shaft itself she could see a dark spot, untouched by the molten rock around it. She passed through a shimmering dome and touched the ground.

The stone she stood on appeared to be obsidian, but streaks of metals ran through it. The entire surface was polished to a mirror black finish, her own figure reflecting on the surface. Looking at the shape of it, the polished obsidian appeared to be in the image of a mountain and she couldn't help but think it strange to be on a mountain inside a volcano.

Climbing to the top the upper surface was cut perfectly flat and it's surface was an even deeper shade of black. No visible thing could be seen on it except a ring of strange runes around the rim that pulsed slightly in the reddish glow of the surrounding magma.

And then she looked down at her feet.

In the reflection of the stone itself she saw more than she saw on the top. She saw a great ornately carved throne, of some unidentifiable metal. In that chair sat a youth, with penetrating black eyes. She looked up and could see nothing on the surface with her but looking down again she could see the child once more. He smiled at her and inclined his head in her direction.

"Ragnar."

She trembled that he knew her name, as if him speaking it he had gained a measure of power over her and she fell to one knee.

"I am pleased that you have finally answered my call. It is time for me to be reborn into the world and I have chosen you to be an instrument in that process. I have a task for you to do, but I fear you are not quite ready for it."

She remained with her head bowed, speechless.

"I know the doubts in your heart, but you have done well to have come here. As I am to be reborn so shall you be remade. As fire is born from a spark and grows into a mighty flame before fading again into eventual darkness so am I. And you as well. You have burned brightly in the past and have consumed much of your energy, I will now strengthen you that that which has become dim may grow bright once more. Do as I ask and I will reward you. Fail me and your spark shall fail as well and you will be lost to darkness.

What say you."

Ragnar whispered, awestruck. "It shall be as you say, Lord Asen."

He smiled again, boyish features contrasting his eyes, which held her captive.

"Then I shall mark you and brand you mine. I will take you for but a moment that I may show you the way, after that it shall be up to you."

Ragnar looked down at her reflection in the stone and saw the boy-god reach out to touch her shoulder her with a finger. Pain erupted, a burning white-hot sensation and she looked up to see nothing but flowing magma around her.

She sunk into blackness.

When she awoke she saw the gift of her god, and she knew in her mind that the name was a message from Asen to her.

[Keita]

still top notch as usual Paulus

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

28th of Obsidian

"Brothers and Sisters, hear me now at this time! We are gathered together again at this, the dying day of the season of death in honor of Mondul. The Trial of faith is upon us again. Long have we all labored this past year on Her temple and much remains to be done. Let our strength and skill now be tested and let death be felt once again in this place!"



Led's words were met with a grim silence as the followers gripped weapons unfamiliar to them. Copper maces and spears, ashen swords and other assorted weapons graced their hands. A like mismatch of armor was to be had among them, a steel boot here, shield there, some chainmail on yet another. It was better than nothing and though the situation was serious there prevailed a much less concerned mentality than the previous year. They took their life into their own hands, to be sure, as they faced the thieves that had been captured, but this year they'd not taken any actual soldiers in their traps.

The Hound stood behind them and pulled the lever at his feet, grabbing up his Hammer in the process. Even he was not clad in full armor as the cages opened with a clanging 'SHINK' and the prisoners were released. Panicked and in a group they ran away from the dwarves to their front and up the stairs behind them, hoping futilely for some form of escape. They found none. The upper floors were incomplete and no exit was to be found, only through their captors. Led, Glacies and Thesaurusaurus led the charge into the group of thieves, with the others close behind and soon the silence was broken with ragged breathing, the grunt and scream of pain and the sound of feet hitting smoothed stone as they ran.

The one-sided battle continued near the central pillar as a small group of thieves broke free from the rest, two Tigermen and two goblins sprinting for the opening, guarded by a lone dwarf, resting casually against the wall with his steel hammer. Several of the cultists noted their departure, Lor and Thesaurusaurus taking off in chase. One of the goblins was detained by the  Hound and struck dead from behind by Thesaurusaurus, who stopped to engage it, but the remaining three fled on. Sprinting to catch up again the chief clerk caught up to one of the tigermen and tackled it, slowing it for long enough for Lor to catch up as well, just outside the perimeter walls. The three struggled savagely, and the two dwarves recieved many deep claw marks but in the end they won out and the beastman lay in pieces against the outer wall.

The other two managed to escape. But that was trivial. The living did not matter on this day. This was the day of dying.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

25th of Granite, Journal of Paulus Fahlstrom

The calm winter was a nice respite from all the insectoid sightings recently. It let us get much work done, though a vast amount always remains. I suppose that no one was injured during the Trial was an indication that we are doing better, are better equipped and are prepared for trouble. In reality, I fear it is not.

We still lack a cohesive military, though many of the others are becoming more adept at combat. It should be an interesting year, in any case.

I've spoken with the Liason about our 'elf' problem. Of course I did not mention where I'd seen, or fought with them previously. Few, I think, would believe the scene beneath the sands of Onol Lened. Only Fre and I know the truth here and she supports my decision. We've been given permission to repatriate goods that may have been taken by the elves, but we're going to take it a step further. I've asked Glacies to make us some gates and Oddbodd has now made a catapult and enough mechanisms.

The cursed demon-tainted elves showed up again, punctually. Predictability is not an asset all the time. While they arrived and were unloading we were busy as well. Oddbodd lay behind a fortification, working on assembling the catapult he'd constructed, while I worked on the gate going through the trade corridor. Further fortifications will be necessary in the future but for now this will be sufficient. I finished just in time for Led to come trade.

Negotiations went well at first. We offered far more than what the goods they'd stolen were worth, but due to the deliberate presence of one of the Avarii wooden idols the elves were, amazingly, offended. How they can eat the fallen and consort with demons but object to the use of a tree boggles even my thoughts.

As they packed up we exited, sealing the doors behind us.

Sealing them in.

The next thing they heard was the sharp Crack of stone striking stone as Oddbodd began practicing with the catapult, directly through the Trade depot structure itself. Disappointingly it seems that such rocks are too easy to predict and evade and, though Oddbodd gained a measure of skill, no damage was done.

They are nonetheless locked within, until they die of madness or starvation. We shall see. It's only what the thieving bastards deserve. They did have the gall to try and sell us a dwaven made Anurite shovel. As if we'd ever let the secret of such forging into any but dwarven hands.

((Oddbodd is now officially an Engineer! And apparently Catapults are worthless for friendly-fire hits.  Sigh. Looks like it's time to make a ballistae!))

[Frelock]

Make sure to add a collection ditch on the opposite side so you don't lose the bolts!  Also: Hurrah for killing elves!

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

((Hmmm... didn't know you could do that. Consider it done. I hate losing good Steel to ballistae bolts.))

Mid-spring

Fikod set her mug down on the table in the dining hall, her rum sloshing slightly but not a drop leaving his mug. To be honest she preferred the bright orthoclase of the long bar itself to the tables and the higher backed stools that Glacies had made complimented it well. Of course, Led, their own High Priest had worked on decorating each piece of furniture in the room, customizing each item and occasionally throwing in scenes from the past few years. The engravings on the walls were truly superb however, and it was always these that drew her attention. Boink had worked alongside her for considerable time until her creation had shown her to be a superior engraver. It was she that had been allowed to decorate the entire dining hall, as well as that portion of the third hall that had been carved out.

It occurred to her then that there was no reason that she too could not create such works of art. A thought grew in her mind as she drank and stared at the carvings that surrounded her, and leaving her drink half-finished she stood and headed for the nearest craftsdwarf workshop.

It would have to be an exquisite piece to compare to the magnificent crown that Boink had made, but it needed to display her own talents as well as the reflec the glory of their church. She entered the fifth hall, the craftshall and saw the stone that would be perfect. Grabbing one of the pieces of celestrium ore she took up residence and began working on her creation.



It took much longer that she could possibly have imagined but when she was finally done it WAS magnificent. It's name she drew from the dry surroundings to the north-east. They'd travelled briefly through a magnificent tundra on their way here from Shieldhelms. It had impressed her, as had Boink's obvious work. But when she saw perfect duplicates on either side of the teardrop shaped earring it made her beam with pride. On the outside in ropereed was a 3/10 scale image of itself in ropereed, but as seen from the inside. On the inside was the same image in similar fashion but worked in chicken leather. Inside each of those were further 1/10 scale images depicting the original side again and inside those even smaller ones, almost too small to make out.

((Yup, it's doubly iterative. Silly dwarves. And I included the engraving by Boink that is depicted on the earring.))

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

(*Paulus is hit by the spinning grammatical error but is unharmed*

Seriously, Tiagoriver81, I don't even know where to begin to make fun of you.)

12th of Felsite, 11

Quico Lizardgale sat next to his friend on the sandy part of the stone cube the dwarves had left them to rot in. They'd been trapped for nearly two months now, and though they had food sufficient for their needs their supply of drink had long since been exhausted. The only drink remaining was a barrel of dwarven ale that had been left in the Depot by their captors, for whatever reason. And it had been brewed in a freshly hewn, green tree corpse, a desecration that made him shiver thinking about it.

Their only source of liquid came from a small berry bush that they'd coaxed to life in the nominally moist sand in the south-east corner of their enclosure. And there were seven elves and seven beasts. It was simply not sufficient. Several of the elves had already entered a meditative trance, in order to preserve their energies, but that too could not last forever.

He sighed. Had the dwarves truly been offended that they'd sold them the goods of caravans waylaid by wild beasts and spiders in their jungles? Or did their anger go deeper? It was hard to think like them, hard for him to imagine life under the earth and away from their forests and their essence. The dwarves were not attuned to that essence, could not feel the way of nature. They did not understand the need to conserve, preserve and utilize all of their resources. They buried their dead, entombed in stone or metal. Such waste!

Even here the dwarves could not feel the land they'd settled in, could not know that their fortress lay on a rift in the Force, a plane of battle long locked in struggle between life and death. In the swamps lay life, the mountains death and most of the elves preferred the sandy soil of the east side of the chamber because of it. How could they not feel it? Or worse, had they done it deliberately? Were they allied with the mountain or with the swamps? He did not know.

Cimo gripped him on the arm, shaking him out of his reverie, whispering into his ear.

"Awake, my friend. Famime shows signs of madness. We must act now."

His eyes fluttered open to see Cimo sitting on the ground next to him, her earthen clothing fitting loosely now on her skinny frame. He nodded, sadly, looking at the other elves to see their state. Famime was by far the worst, periodic twitching of one hand betrayed her inner turmoil. He sighed again.

"The young have no sense of perspective."

"Indeed, but nearly three hundred years is hardly young compared to the mortals around us. Still, the others must know."

"Agreed. It is as we have discussed. You must be the one to attune yourself. They will sense your awareness. But move into the corner near the bush, it strikes me as the best place."

She complied, shifting her form silently into the corner and leaning her back against the sandy stone, left hand palm down on the earth. Her right hand traced delicate symbols out onto the sand, the faintest of stirrings on the soil and she sunk deep into meditation.

Quico settled back into a coherent awareness as he heard Famime stir again.

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An uncanny howl disturbed the dwarves from their labors and observers were sent to check on the elves as soon as it was realized that they had been the source of the noise.

The scene that greeted them through the fortification slits was a grim one.

Famime Shieldlions the Quiet Tax stalked her prey mercilessly. Already she had slain fully half of their caravan in her madness. Their blood flecked her face where it had splattered her as she crushed the life out of them with her own hands. The animals had sensed the turmoil and death in the air and many still ran, panicked and braying away from their bezerk former friend. A scream rent the air, her own as Famime launched herself at another elf, sitting crosslegged on the stone. They collided and after rolling around for a few seconds Famime came out on top, throttling the other merchant and bashing his head against the stone floor. Moist thuds began echoing through the room as she continued her onslaught.

She'd killed four of her companions, two of the donkeys, two mules and two of the ponies. Only three of her companions were left, her own donkey and two other elves. She howled again, savagely and began advancing on the two remaining elves in the corner. She lunged for Quico's throat but Quico had been attentive. His knee came up sharply, catching Famime in the solar-plexus and his hands struck out like snakes, holding the other and using her momentum to toss her against the wall. Famime struck with considerable force and lay on the floor for a second, stunned. Before she could move again Quico was there, chopping her in the throat swiftly, crushing her esophagus, before pinning an arm behind her. And then all went black.

Quico regretted what he'd been forced to do the moment he had acted. He'd violated the natural law. It was forbidden to kill one's own. The elves did not believe in martial punishment. Those that could not follow the tribe's belief did not belong to the tribe, it was as simple as that. Banishment was absolute. He had killed another, even if in self defense. The natural force had been betrayed and he felt it. He slumped down on the floor next to his fallen brother, tears in his eyes.

Perhaps that was why he did not hear Quico's donkey charging from behind. The death of it's master unhinged it entirely and the one swift kick that Quico recieved killed him nearly instantly.

And so perished Quico Lizardgales, slayer of Famime Shieldlions the Quiet Tax, slayer of her brethren, killed by Eyomecire, Ageslayer the Donkey.

Shortly thereafter Cimo was no more, trampled under the mad donkey's feet.

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Led and Glacies stood outside the door leading to the Depot. They'd witnessed the slaughter of the elves by their own. Only one survivor remained.

Ageslayer.

They opened the doors to see the mad creature, rearing and braying shrilly. They circled as the donkey charged. The large creature bowled into Glacies, knocking her down and attempting to trample her, striking her several times in the chest, head and neck before Led managed to force the donkey off with his spear.

Glacies stood quickly, but was still somewhat disoriented as Led fought, striking the donkey in the flank. They struggled and his spear became embedded and would not pull out, so rather than be drug close he let go as Glacies charged back in to confront the deranged donkey. A series of quick strokes left gashes down the creatures chest as it tried to rear up. The few hit the donkey managed to get on Glacies she shrugged off.

Then a final lunge caught the donkey between some ribs, the sword sliding into the chest cavity three quarters of a foot and the donkey shuddered and fell, breathing heavily.

Minutes later Ageslayer was no more, felled by Glacies Boltorbs.

[Heron TSG]

Damn them horselike beasts!

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

((No kidding. Our fortress seems to be plagued by nervous system injuries solely due to dealing with bezerk pack animals. Don't worry, I'll still get you combat training, both civilian and actual.))