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[Paulus Fahlstrom]

23rd of Limestone Autumn
Journal of Thesaurusaurus

I'd take more time to write but we've all been busy pushing to get the construction done. It doesn't look like this year now, unfortunately, but still, we're well along and are beginning to put the 'cap' on the dome. Mosus (his remaining son) told me about the action he saw from the upper constructions. Apparently as the dwarven caravan was pulling in a goblin ambush showed up at the base of the ramp.

Thank goodness Fre was there, but one of the little blighters was carrying a crossbow and nailed Fre in the leg, through armor and all as she advanced on him. The merchant guards were still a little ways away and the alarm was called, workers rushing to see what was going on, and run to join the fray if needed. Before the caravan guards can even cross half the distance Fre has the goblin hanging in pieces from the middle of a tree where he landed, broken limbs hanging awkwardly in the branches. The remaining goblins attacked and in a flash Fre's hammer found a mark, then another, and even a third before the guards could take two steps. In seconds almost the entire ambush was destroyed and the caravan guards just kind of stopped, looking dejected.

I think they relished having a little goblin sport. As they began climbing the ramp Fre yanked the bolt out of her leg and tossed it to the ground, spitting casually.

Her lilting voice carried up on the wind. "Fine sort of day, don't you lads think?"

Heh, I wish I could have seen the look on their faces. Anyhow, we traded the usual, but donated five bars of iron and five of gold this year to pay our 'tax'. The gold in particular should be well received and we'd have given more but there was no more room on the wagons.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

2nd Opal Mid-winter

Mosus stamped his feet again to regain the circulation in them as he climbed up from the frozen pit. He looked up as he climbed at the vast towering structure over him and couldn't help but smile. The temple was nearing completion. Despite that they were working in the hole of a frozen lake doing who knew what installing tightly fitting glass blocks morticed with lead into an artificial glass floor for a lake. It didn't even connect to anything yet and was only a fanciful idea that Fre had had.

Not that he minded the lass. For a non-believer she was about as close as any could come to a follower of Mondul. Her tireless vigilance ensured that she saw a regular and steady amount of combat action that many of the younger generation yearned for.

He regained the surface, making his way towards the ramp along the used trail through the foot deep snow. The wind howled against the cliffs nearby muffling otherwise audible sounds and almost without notice he suddenly found himself being thrown to the ground, a heavy weight atop him. A searing pain on his back made him spin around and atop him sat a huge mandibled insect leering over him. It's chitinous body was pale, almost as pale as the snow and it's arms were flanked by two deadly looking blades made of chitin, one of which was stained bright red.

A brief thought raced through his mind. 'That's my blood. Strange, I thought it would be darker.'

The insect reared above him and he wriggled and twisted underneath it, trying to break free of it's grip. The blade slashed downwards again and a bright pain sprouted across his abdomen, and then another across his arm, deeper and more penetrating.

Thoughts again flashed in his mind. 'I'm going to die here.'

That thought sent shivers through his body and he determined then and there that it would not be without a fight.

"Ambush! The buggers are back!" he yelled as he grabbed a handful of snow and thrust it towards the head of the insect who reared back as the icy crystals struck it's face and eyes. That lapse was sufficient for him to wriggle free and he began shouting like mad at any within earshot. The insect shook it's head clear and took off in pursuit of him, though it didn't last long. The bug was incredibly fast and pounced on him again, taking him down by tripping him. He whirled before the insectoid could strike and began throwing punches as the two grappled in the snow that was gradually turning red.


Ragnar had heard the shout and cleared the corner of the ramp just in time to see the insectoid jump on Mosus after tripping him. With a fierce shout she raised her spade that she'd been clearing the cliffside with for the northern road and was about to charge when a motion in her peripheral vision brought her around. Another bug, sneaking up on her.

Seeing it's prey cognizant of it's presence the insectoid lashed out suddenly hoping for speed to succeed where stealth had failed. The dwarf was unarmored and should prove easy prey but when the creature struck the dwarf had already blocked her blow with it's gleaming weapon. She struck again with her other side, going down low and coming up underneath the dwarf's guard but in an instant the dwarf had repositioned itself against her and her swipe was futile. A sudden whirl of the spade was all the warning the creature had before it came scything in towards her and he moved to block it. Her chitin had stood up to dozens of blows, but this was no normal metal and it sheared through her arm as a knife through paper. Dully she backpedaled and the dwarf followed, raining blows upon her, severing her wings, and a leg a the joint, knocking her to the ground. A second later Ragnar stood over the decapitated insectiod, breathing heavily in the cold winter air, her breath steaming up in front of her.

Four more insectoids were making their way through the trees towards her now, their ghostly white figures making no sound in the snow despite their speed. She spared a brief glance towards Mosus and in that flash saw the insectoid plunge it's blade deep into the dwarf's leg and Ragnar knew she didn't have time to fight four and  still save him. It was, perhaps, a foolish decision, but she made it nonetheless. With a shout she sprang into action, charging the insectoid atop Mosus and striking it from behind. The blow caught the creature in the wing, snapping it and cutting into an arm, wounding it badly. She took time with her second blow, sending it wide and catching the creature in the torso and sending it skidding off Mosus to land with a dull thump against a tree a dozen feet away. It's limbs were still trembling and she knew it was still alive. A glance down at Mosus told her he would not be able to run for it and grimly she whirled towards the advancing four, now only feet away and made her stand.

Mosus described the scene later with the clarity that only comes to those fully expecting their own death. The four quickly surrounded Ragnar, lashing out in pairs at the dwarf. A few managed minor hits as Ragnar did her best to parry their attacks at first. And then, as if realizing that they would only wear her down her tactic changed. She stopped parrying as a blow struck her from behind but she ignored the deep gash as she single-mindedly charged one of her opponents, stabbing out at it with her spade and knocking it to the ground. A rapid series of short stabs quickly reduced the bug to a torso with a few minor appendages but it had cost her. A half dozen wounds now bled freely onto the trampled snow around her and her breath came labored.

She whirled on a second and Mosus described it as an almost bezerker look came into her eyes as she utterly ignored any pain she must have been feeling. The second she struck down without pity and with a calm and ruthless efficiency that any weapon's master would envy but as she whirled on the third her leg gave way beneath her, unable to support her because of her injuries. The insectoids pounced on her thinking themselves victors but one was punched aside before it could even land as her powerful blow knocked it aside. The other had moved within striking range and even a prone dwarf could be a dangerous one. The insect lashed out at her and she caught it's blow with her arm, chitin sinking into flesh. But she twisted and soon had the creature in a lock, all but tearing it's arm out of the socket using her good leg as leverage.

Ragnar kicked it for good measure as the other insectoid charged again and she had a brief instant to grab the spade and bring it around, scything the creature's feet out from under it. An overhead blow stunned it long enough for her to drag it towards her and lean on it with her shovel, using her body weight to cut it slowly in half.

The last insectoid had, by this time, regained it's bearing and with the crazed abandoned of a wounded creature thrown itself at Ragnar's back, biting the dwarf in the arm while trying to tear at the tough flesh. Only when the creature beneath her was assuredly dead did Ragnar roll, crunching the insectoid beneath her frame. The move freed her from the creature's grip but cost her the shovel. Mosus was doing his best to drag himself over to help but the distance was too great for him to make speedy progress and the two, dwarf and insectoid were locked in a grapple to the death. The insectoid had many advantages over Ragnar, but strength was not one of them. Years now of working in the mines, and of combat and training had so conditioned her against minor inconveniences like pain, nausea and minor blood loss that her focus did not waver. Occasionally one would pass out briefly and it wasn't until Fre finally arrived as reinforcement that the creature was finally dispatched.



Both dwarves survived, Led carrying Mosus down amid the concerned ministrations of his father. Paulus retrieved Ragnar herself who only grunted as he came to pick her up and carry her to bed.

"Took ye bloody long enough. I kin barely feel ma feet in this snow."

Paulus smiled down at her and gently joked. "That's because ye have na' feet now, lass. Bugger must have bitten them clean off."

Ragnar chuckled gently until a spasm of pain crossed her face and she wriggled her toes just to prove a point to herself.

"Is the lad all right?"

"Yes. He'll survive I think. He's in better shape then you by the looks of it."

"Good. I got them all then?"

"Aye, every one. Or close enough to."

Ragnar did not respond and Paulus gently carried the unconcious dwarf down to the infirmary.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Ok...so, here's a little eye candy. Keep in mind that this fortress is in the entire embark zone. You may see a lot of landscape around it. That's because there is a lot of it. The main Skull fort is largely constructed out of the natural stone of the highest and only real peak on the map. The upper levels are built by hand. It's over 30 z levels from top to bottom. Because the natural stone is of varying material the colors are (regrettably) not uniform.

Oh, and the ramp enters the skull through the nose.



I think the side view is much better, despite the obviously blocky appearance.



In the frontal pic you can see the full ramp and Fre's pool in progress. It's winter and the natural lakes were left in place while I removed the stone around them. The floor was finished and now, come summer the water will melt and fill the pool again, in addition to added snow and rainfall. Come winter it'll refreeze so I can glass under the natural lakes so I don't have to refill it all manually. And I'll get some ice that way for Glacies to use building her hermit hole once she actually goes crazy. (oops, did I say that out loud... hmmm... should have spoiler'd it.)

The orbital view is actually quite refreshing and shows almost 60% of the map. Most of the Crack is on it and other points of interest at that z-level are shown.



So, thanks for all your views and interest. I do plan on continuing this until finished and with my near extermination of all breeding wildlife and removal of hundreds of chasm-critters my fps is around 40 on my good comp. So I'll be upping the population limit a little as soon as Mondul's Temple is dedicated.

[skaltum]

bump 

[Battlecat]

Very cool 3D shots of the area!  I've quite enjoyed reading through your story to date!

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

(Thanks. I'm afraid everything looks cooler in my mind.  So... um... use your imagination. But I did model the thing based on an actual skull, despite it being blocky. And let me tell you... building a thing like that is a pain, particularly when you have a popcap set to 20.

I may have to check it out in other visualizer tools now that I've actually finished it. Kind of a shame that the inherent strata of the stone where it was carved out leads to the non-standard color look.)

Mid-summer-19 Journal of the High Priest

Again we've had a quiet winter. I do believe that Mondul is indeed watching over us and Glacies believes that we can finish the tower this year still. Everyone has been putting in extra time on it and even several of our clanmates have been helping. We've been working like mad on almost nothing but construction and we're now only a few hundred blocks from completion. Though I suppose our good fortune couldn't last.

The elves came in the spring but we'd shut down our trading hall by forbidding it's use and it seems the elves knew better than to try to come. They moped about a bit near the borders of our land before wandering off again.

The humans... were another matter. It brings to mind the conversation I had with their diplomat last year, though the group that arrived this year appears to be from a different tribe. Well, at least they seem like it from this distance.



We're not quite sure what to make of it since I ordered everyone to suit up but after a week or two of waiting around on pins and needles they haven't made any indication of advancing towards the fortress. We've not even sealed it off or anything and yet they just sit. Perhaps they're actually trying for a normal siege and hope to wait us out.

HAH!

We're dwarves. Like that'll happen. In order to not delay construction further we've decided to ignore them. We've enough food and drink to last five years or so, and that's without starting up the farms again. Paulus has been working on the roads again since some of them collapsed into the lakes at the mid-summer thaw. He's bridging them over and rebuilding the roads again, but other activities outside I've tried to curtail. Our two wounded are feeling better, which is good. I know it's uncharitable of me to think this way but they've been tying up resources to no end. Not only are there two less hands to do the work but the extra time it takes to fetch water from the well and to provide food for them has severely hampered other work.

(Not to mention that because of the distance half the time whoever goes to get water winds up filling a bucket and bringing it back 2/3 of the way before needing a drink themselves.)

Fre's pool has thawed and left a shallow pool across the whole surface. It doesn't seem to leak but we've had little rainfall this year and that may cause problems. We shall see what happens when it freezes again in a few weeks.

Well, back to work. I need to finish decorating the armor for the dedication should we be ready by years end.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Midwinter's day

A growing sense of uneasiness filled the prisoners of late. Perhaps it was the increased attention they had been recieving, the new additions of cages into their large room. More than likely though it was the ever so gradual decrease of natural sunlight that they had been receiving from above as the Temple of Mondul neared completion. The goblins in particular seemed distressed by this development and perhaps it was only they that understood the import of it. But the lizardmen had grown quiet of late, taking to hardly moving in the cold winter air. Even the tigermen had ceased their frantic pacing and sat, as if in meditation in their cages, only the tips of their tails twitching ever so slightly.

The light above them had shrunk to a small square, bisected in half and in half again leaving four small squares of light falling on only the central cages, those nearest the olivine pillar.

And then, even that disappeared as the dwarves industriously finished work on the temple a month and a half before the dying day of the year.

All of the routine in life then disappeared as even more cages were brought in and festooned in place, dwarves working anxiously to get them linked to levers in preparation for their intended ritual. The captives knew this day was coming. Except perhaps the insectoids, and no one truly knew what they thought or felt. The goblins did what they could to sharpen their weapons on the stones near their cages. All prisoners had been granted their equipment. None of it had been removed or taken away and they knew that if they were to be given a chance, it would come through conflict.

The lizardmen understood this perhaps more keenly than any. Unbeknownst to all but one of the inhabitants of the fortress they too were worshippers of a goddess of death. That lone dwarf was  the one responsible for bringing them their food and had often had conversations with them, first in the halting common tongue, but as he learned their language, increasingly in their own speech, as far as he was able to pronounce it. This was a pilgrimage for them, a way to prove themselves to their goddess and to prove that their own goddess was with them. It was clear, at least to them, that they had the most in common with these, warm-blooded creatures, these... dwarves. They would face death without fear, and deal death and murder where they could.

Few of the prisoners could sleep well for all the last few days of the year and as dwarves began appearing in the room clad in armor they knew the end was near. The armor itself was cunningly worked. Steel covered in bone. Breastplates inlaid with scenes of combat between dwarf and avar, in avar bone. Spikes of unicorns worked into helmets. Demon rat bone spikes fixed to shields. Whole sets of armor cunningly crafted so that the wearer looked almost, but not quite, like the skeleton of a creature. An elf here, avar there, pieces of goblin, troglodyte, unicorn skull helmets all masterfully inlaid and upon closer inspection scenes would unfold.

The creation of Tundrabrushes, the slaying of the elf merchant by a mule, the fatal wounding of a donkey by it's avar master and on down the line. Scenes of combat and death, images of moon, stars, mountains and gems. (Not to mention buckets and fish, of course.) All these were laid out in walking splendor before the eyes of the captives and some few of them could think to themselves: I was there when my brother in arms was slain, or when we ambushed that dwarf and killed them. I have seen those things with my own eyes and now I see them again, for the last time.

The dwarves moved slowly among the cages, milling about and admiring the workmanship of the scenes on each others armor in silence. The whole fortress seemed quiet as the sounds of masonry and stonecutting ceased, utterly and completely, for the first time in many years. The wind howling around the outside of the Temple of Mondul could be heard, but the masonry was superb and little draft could be felt. Torches had been placed alight in sconces set into the wall and by the flickering flame the remainder of the dwarves finally began to arrive.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

As Led stepped through the doorway his steel low boots rang out loudly on the stone floor. His spear, shod in iron from it's sharpened tip down almost half the length of the heavy oak shaft. Not a word was spoken as he took his place near the eastern side of the room. A quick three thumps on the floor using the butt of his spear brought everyone around quickly as they approached to hear his words.

"Sisters and Brothers! We gather again in this newly finished structure at the dying of the year to remember. To remember the importance of death in our lives. It is death that gives our life meaning. Because of death are we able to live each day and without that sacrifice we would cease to be and perish ourselves.

But this is not a sermon. We've all worked long and hard to build a structure worthy of our goddess and now it stands before you.

Look around. Those of us have worked in it's construction have labored much while these others have worked against us and the glorification of Mondul. As life and death are in constant opposition so have we been. But as in life and death everything has it's cycle. Now that this structure is complete we take the turn to administer opposition to our foes! Let them feel the taste of our goddess and whisper prayers on their faltering lips! Let them know of the inevitability of this life and that all must return to death in their time! Let them feel the coldness of the grave!

These things are the domain of Mondul and with these acts we do her reverence!"

Led raised his arms in the air and proclaimed. "Mondul, in thy name and to thy honor we now dedicate this structure to thee. May thou watch over us and take us into they embrace as thou wouldst have it be, and let us administer thy sacraments to our enemies that they may learn after this life to feast on thy word.

Watch over our dead and living alike that we may walk the paths that return us to thy presence, we pray, and grant these, our enemies to learn wisdom at thy feet.

Accept of this our offerings which we give to thee, be it our lives or theirs and bless this, thine earthly abode!"

His hands dropped and the spear was thumped loudly and slowly on the floor once, and again, and yet a third time.

For a brief moment nothing happened and Led turned and shook his head slightly sighing in exasperation as the silence stretched onward. He looked around at the others and most were waiting in quiet anticipation. Except Sarah, who had fallen asleep during his speech.

Then the outer doors opened and Masenik came trotting in, looking somewhat apologetic.

"Sorry I'm late, hope I didn't miss anything. Fancied a bit of a kip down and the ol' Anvil."

A vein on Led's neck was beginning to stand out and his face was turning redder as Kolok only chuckled lightly. It was at this moment the first cages sprung open and chaos rapidly ensued as the prisoners were released.

((I've got this in video format since the battle is rather complicated. Unfortunately there were some problems with the levers. Heh. Darn unpredictable dwarves. So see for yourselves. And sorry Masenik, I strongly suspect that Led cursed you under his breath and that's the reason you were... well... see for yourself. But it was a goblin that did it, surprisingly enough.))

http://mkv25.net/dfma/movie-2228-dedicationritualfortempleofmondul

((The structure is complete but it's not full yet. The upper three levels will be for the sanctum, and there will be two arena style areas, the lowest dual tier one we use now, and a more complex arena above it for my zombie trolls, etc. That leaves somewhere between 6-10 full floors to decorate and describe as we see fit and I wanted to open it up for forum input. One will be a meeting room, and I have around 300 skull totems of high quality to decorate the floor with.  Yes, I'm going to have piles of skulls in the corner. It's decorative.

So, I'm accepting plans, designs, and/or input for what to do with the other space. Feel free to post designs if you want and depending on the response I'll see it done. We have access to 'most' materials. No adamantine of course. Not yet, though it's out there somewhere since I'm on the entire map of a hilly region. Each floor is roughly 25x25 room though some of these floors contain the eye sockets of the Skull temple and are a little smaller. Can't go any higher since the top of the temple is at the uppermost z-level.))

[masam]

dude...he got shredded...

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

((Yeah... I'm afraid so. Going back through the movie I can only determine that it was a goblin Master thief that did you in. Hit you hard enough to send you flying even. Never would have thought that a goblin thief would have that kind of power in 'em.

Anyways, sorry your guy got killed. Working on spiffing up your tomb now. You've been granted front row seats in the Accursed Crack for as long as  you want. 

I'll probably post again in a bit but things have been very busy. I defend in five days.

Whew.

Of course, then I have to still find a job...))

[masam]

It's cool.  I'll just search contemplate a dwarf for the next time you allow us to enter the hallowed halls of the clan

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

(Whew, it's been a few very busy weeks and things have quieted down now, though I wish they hadn't. Funny how as soon as you finish school and all that goes with it you suddenly realize that unless you find a job you're technically unemployed. So, if anyone know of a Chemist position feel free to IM me. 

As far as allowing you another go Masam, feel free to request another dwarf. Just provide the pertinent background info and I'll see what I can do. I'm about a year (game time) behind in the writing that I hope to catch up and I'll be relaxing the population limits since progress is ongoing in clearing the Crack of undead. That goes for anyone of course, if you want another dwarf or whatnot, feel free to post. Please include name, preferred characteristics (and I'll see what I can do), and any background story you want. Keep in mind my story here isn't designed to be short-term. I'm planning on playing this fort for decades more and have plenty of time to develop your characters. You want to be an insane madman? Sure... but don't expect it to happen overnight. And of course I try to avoid savescumming so there's always a high chance you may die... a very high chance actually. Oh, and please specify if you want to be a cultist, a clan loyalist, a royal house loyalist or something else. (No I don't use Dwarf companion or any other outside programs... so I am not accepting elves.)

Year 19 Records of the fortress in the hand of Thesaurusaurus

End of spring-

The humans sieging us have finally left us, with no combat initiated from either party. Perhaps the few groups of undead that attacked them blunted their appetite for our riches. Or perhaps they left to go seek reinforcements. Either way, we've been busy cleaning up after the dedication of the Temple of Mondul and planning ongoing work in it. Even though the structure is dedicated the inner aspects of it require considerable work yet.

The arena/combat rooms at the base are obviously operational but Led has mentioned the Altar room that is to be organized on the top of the structure. Some of it is completed and it has balconies and upper causeways from which musicians can play instruments or sing or even just watch the sacrificies as desired.

As always, the work proceeds slowly, as we are simply too few for such a monumental undertaking, but we shall persevere, Mondul willing.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

21st of Hematite

The summer sun shone splendidly down on the steep hillside, the sky a clear vibrant blue streak above the dusty grey stone of the hills, unbroken except in one place. Where a stone skull, over twenty stories tall sat, impassive and ugly. A ramp led up into the massive structure from which, at a Giant Eagle's perspective, or more likely a Zombie Giant Eagle, knowing this particular mountain range, small figures worked mixed in with the shrubbery below.

Many of the small figures were busy working in small workshops outside at the base of the structure, workshops that were nearly buried in loose scree from months of cutting stone blocks. A relaxed conversation filled the air as they worked and talked. They'd had a calm winter, and an even calmer spring. Not only that but the remaining dwarves that had been injured had finished recovering from their wounds and were again sharing in the work. A shout could be heard from above them as they worked:

"Traders! Looks like humans!"

The dwarves looked up from their work and many of their expressions weren't terribly friendly. Human had besieged them for nearly half a year just the past few seasons. It seemed strange that more of their number would show up to trade less then two months after the others had left.  Almost suspicious even.

Slowly the humans and their animals made their way towards the ramp, leading into the skull-fortress itself and Fre stood at the top of the ramp watching their progress. She was a little more open-minded towards humans, and had long since learned that they needed to be evaluated almost individually instead of as a people. No concept of racial pride. Or rather, a strangely focused concept, since they were forever believing that some humans were better or worse than others. As an outsider she had no such false illusions.

As the humans were just beginning to ascend the ramp Fre headed in to inform the others that they were, indeed, here to trade. Besides, she needed a drink. Had she stayed a moment longer she might have seen the movement in the marshes below as more than half a dozen insectoids burst from ambush and began making their way up the ramp.

The first trader they came upon was apparently oblivious to their presence until they were upon him. He was the straggler, his pony laden with an anvil or two and some other small goods, and they had just begun heading up the ramp, effectively leaving him with only a single route of exit. Towards the fortress. His screams were shrill enough as he panicked and began running up the ramp as the swarm of insectoids flew upon his slow beast of burden and quickly tore it apart, chitinous blades piercing it's torso from multiple directions.

The bugs relished the blood of their kill for a few moments before turning their attention onto their other prey, and they swiftly headed up the ramp, forming a small wall of wings and clicking exoskeletons as they rose. The other trader didn't even make it all the way up the ramp before he was caught from behind, yanked off his feet as a clawed arm shot out and grabbed at his leg. A split second later his scream was cut short as nearly iron-hard mandibles broke his neck from behind. The other human merchants, fearing a trap, began fleeing down the ramp, directly towards their aggressors. One of them was thrown bodily from the ramp and landed amid the workshops below, broken and still. The others met similarly permanent fates and even the human guards were ineffective against the vicious insectoids.

The bugs advanced into the fortress, smelling more food, their feet clacking on the polished stone surface.

One by one the floors opened up beneath them and swallowed them whole, and but seconds later the entire ambush force was gone and the entrance stood silent once more, blood dripping slowly from the twenty foot bridge span onto the sparse shrubs eighty feet below.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the initial ambush the dwarves were put on alert and it wasn't truly a surprise when a second group of insectoids was spotted in the hills to the north-east, casually slaughtering undead mountain goats. They were close enough to potentially be a threat and when a third group was seen only a little to the north volunteers were called for. Fre, Kolok and Paulus were the first armed and armored at the top of the ramp and when the fortress cat unwittingly uncovered a fourth ambush party at the base of the ramp next to Fre's empty pool another shout was sent down the stair to hurry the others along. The three dwarves charged across the bridge and down the ramp, chitin screeching against iron as the insectoids charged up. Momentum carried the dwarves through and one of the insectoids fell off the ramp, landing in a tangle in the shrubs below. Kolok charged after it as Paulus and Fre stood, nearly back to back against the remaining insectoids on the ramp. Fre had been singled out as the primary target apparently and periodic slashes kept her busy blocking blows with her steel shield and hammer.

Above them Draconius, Glacies, Ascubis and Der Kartoffel charged down the ramp shouting 'Monduuuuuuuuuul' as they charged to help their companions.

A general melee broke out with Draconius and Ascubis fighting a single insectoid while Glacies wielded her obsidian sword with considerable cunning. Der Kartoffel was circling with an insectoid above and lunged with his sword almost in cadence with the creature.

A pair of insectoids now warily cirlcled Fre, who stood nearly motionless as they evaluated their foe. One of them dashed in to swipe at her and at the last second she tipped her shield down and deflected it, following her motion with a sudden hammer strike that took the creature in the leg, whirling it around and sending it skidding down the ramp. She followed it down before it could regain it's bearing and a second blow shattered an arm, a third it's wing, crushing into it's upper torso as well. The insectoid was no fragile creature though and it brought it's other arm around to try and scythe her legs out from under her. She dodged backwards and brought her hammer down in an arc, crushing it's abdomen as a burst of searing pain shot through her own torso and sharp chitinous blade erupted from the front of her left lower chest, piercing through even her armor.

The pain was immense as she stared down at the chitin protruding from her body and dimly understood what had happened. Instinctively she rolled, carrying the insectoid impaling her to the ground with her and she elbowed it in the head as she did so, getting a grip on it's blade carrying shoulder in the process. The twisting in her torso nearly caused her to black out as she calmly ripped the insectoid's arm from it's socket and left it dangling behind her before beating the creature in beneath her to a pulp. She stood over the mangled form gasping for breath and looked numbly around her. The others had fared better, though Ascubis had been knocked off the ramp as well, though the fall was not long.

The insectoids were all unmoving as she ripped the chitinous blade from her back and promptly fell into blackness.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Led sat quietly in a chair in the boneyard thinking. It was one of his favorite places to think, if only because the perpetual stench of rotting flesh ensured that no one else disturbed his here. This was his office, his workshop and his personal sanctum. The piles of bones, skulls and rotting flesh only added to the decor.

What do you expect from a High priest of Mondul, a dwarven goddess of death?

Seriously?

If someone had walked in on him they might have thought he was on break, sitting on a smoothed obsidian chair, leaning back on two legs against his workshop built of solid platinum blocks. But as he sat and thought ideas came to him, as if whispered from on high. The upper altar room, the High fane of the temple, would have a series of statues depicting the four bringers of death: Pestilence, Famine, War and Time. In their center would be a block altar for rituals and offerings, made of red stone, realgar most likely.  The floor would be decorated in alternating and opposite hues, reflecting the struggle between life and death. And of course, it would be the repository for the Masterwork skull totems he'd been working on since his arrival in this place, symbolizing the inevitable victory of death over the living.

Yes, the image consolidated in his thoughts and the plan formed in his mind. It would have to be sanctified and made a holy place. Thereafter only the worthy believers would be allowed to enter it. Though a lesser room for rituals and teaching would be beneath it, spacious and large, sufficient for instruction and oration and ornately furnished to dispay the contrast between this holy place and their own, reasonable spartan living places.

That too would have to be remedied sooner or later, he thought, and if more believers did indeed arrive it would need to be sooner. But word would be slow to reach them and if, as he strongly suspected, they were still being hampered in their desires to depart, it could yet be a while. Thinking of it made his veins pop a little at the injustice. If he were given the opportunity to express how he felt to the nobles just once it might make things simpler. And then he would be hammered to death for murder.

Not for the first time it occurred to him that such a course of action might be exactly what it took to convince the ruling nobles to lay off. On the other hand it also might be justification to round all the believers up and execute or banish them.

He sighed.

If it was Mondul's will it would be done as needed. But such was not his lot. Not yet.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Late-Autumn year 19 Fortress log, in the hand of Thesaurusaurus

Caravans from Shellhelms have returned. The head merchant seemed awfully smug about something though there was no correspondence of any kind and they've refused to give me any information. Seemed awfully happy about our state of affairs here despite not being able to attempt to bleed us dry last year due to the siege. Maybe he was just happy about us being sieged.

Trading went well enough. We traded some of the more useless armor and weapons we've accumulated and that Led has decorated, along with totems from the domestic beasts for some basic supplies. A few metal bars, cut gems, food, drink, and steel goods and gear. And we sent another batch of gold bars as our 'tax' for the year. Managed to get around 10 bars on this time.

It's a shame to see it go, almost pains me. I know others feel the same.

Heh. At least life's not just conspiring against us and is making the buggers work for the goods they're carting away from here. As the caravans were leaving they were ambushed by two full patrols of Avar and unicorns.



Man-thing and beast brought the count up past 40 or so, though they didn't put up much fight. Caravan guards did their work well and not a merchant or wagon was lost, though two guards perished in the fighting. Erith was on hand to help as well, though the others were all busy. The Hound was in the Crack, Led was busy in his workshop and Ragnar and Fre were getting drinks. It was quick anyways and by the time the merchants broke free sixteen unicorns were dead, and eight avar, four mace and four axe. Two of the caravan guards had also died in the fighting and Erith offered our tombs to the dead.



We'll see them well buried, even if they weren't exactly friendly towards us.