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Nothing.

At all.

Seriously.

[Labs]

You mean episode 3?

[Keita]

no, just number 3

[Jackrabbit]

Ep 1, 2 and 3 equal half life 3. Thats Valves plan.

[Keita]

Ep 1, 2 and 3 equal half life 3. Thats Valves plan.

¬¬

[GruffyBears]

Quit talking and get back to work, Jackrabbit! Stop distracting us with zombie survival games! (As well made as they are.)

[Limul Thak]

Limul Thak's Journal

Kogan's been laughing to himself. It's a hearty laugh, not one of those fey or macabre little laughs, so I'm sure it's just something funny. Who knows?

"Well, I would have to say that it is merely something funny."
"Which is what I JUST said."
"I know, I am in agreement with you."

I need to teach Navi some dwarfish. For instance, contractions. He REALLY needs contractions.

On another note, I'm hearing Walter talk in his sleep. Either Workerdrone hit him with a funny bone*, or he's having a dream or two. I never get that many dreams, mostly because I'm very drunk when I'm asleep.

Bjorn's nice, but I must say that he's a bit... ambitious. That's our polite little way of saying that he's arrogant. He expects us to be the best all the time. He takes it for granted, too, and that's going to cost him someday.

Oh, and the lightning bolt? It turns out I should just call it magic, because that's how the TCD takes in static electricity and redirects it. That kind of annoys me, because magic is something we dwarves tend to leave to the elves. To take this in, I'm going to imbibe some more mead. I need a dwarf-smashing, not a human-smashing, for this kind of knowledge.

*It's a JOKE.

~LT

[Vilien]

Vilien time is far worse than Valve time. Just look at the Raptorfortress thread to get an understanding of how bad Vilien time is.

[WorkerDrone]

Journal entry of Olon “Workerdrone” Uzindurpul Cek Shoneth

Thanks to inappropriately applied snooping, I've been forced into taking drink in bucket loads to drown my sorrows. This human drink called Mead is very hearty. It has a very pleasing taste, much better then even good old rum...nah. Nothing is better then a good shot of Dwarven Rum. Has the dwarfy taste of booze and the effect of getting a punch in the face at the same time. That's a real drink.

At anyrate, I'm starting to feel better, old wounds closing up again, but there's nothing to do sitting around here. I should be experiencing the joys of battle, and the lust for blood Armok inspires in me. To pass the time, besides drinking games with the lads (which I win again and again. Though it might take double the amount of booze with these non-Dwarven drinks, I can still hold my booze better then the average one of these piss pot soldiers.) I've split my attention in two places.

For one, we all need to keep up our skills, so I've taken to trouncing a few of the lads crazy enough to try and spar with me. I know Kogan wants a round with me, but he can sod off as long as he acts the way he does. I don't fight with- A portion of the journal starts to get a little TO wordy......that don't even hold a bar to an ape!

I tried taking on that other captain for the hell of it, but that laddy has been rather busy, so I thought screw it, I'd try my hand against a few of the humans here. Most of them don't fear Dwarves, so when I offered, more then two thirds of the Mercs and adventurers taking up wandering board around the castle jumped at the chance to show a, in the words of the ignorant, 'shorty whimp of a maggot humper' like me how to fight. That didn't end well.

So needless to say, in our short time here, I've already beaten most of the local clowns in a match or two, and showed the troops how a real fight goes, heh. But wiping the floor with the local riffraff and piledriving my fellow Dwarves starts to get old. I need a real fight, and I'm almost tempted to start one if we don't move out soon enough. I've held my peace though.

As long as that fool Walter doesn't try snooping around my things again, I won't have to bury my axes in his face. Or any one else foolish enough to go digging into my old writing...

Between you and I journal...eh...most of it isn't very appropriate. In fact, a few of those entries...oooh...hot damn.

Anyway. Gonna drag a few of the boyos out for bit of a hike through the local forest. Going to bring a few of the crossbows along aswell, see if we can shoot us a good yearling or two, and roast it up for a feast tonight. Drink, food, and some raunchy tales should cheer everyone else up aswell.

[Labs]

Journal of Labs:
 
  I never wanted to be a mercenary and now that I am near the ocean, I feel right at home. I have found a good sized fishing vessel for sale down by the docks and I have decided to purchase it. It's time I said farewell to my comrades in favor for a less harzardous lifestyle. I have already found a willing crew at the local tavern and have already talked to the current owner of the boat. I bid my comrades farewell and if they ever need transport or fresh fish they can come to me.
 
(Jackrabbit, since you are thinking about killing off characters and since Labs has been of little to no use to the company, I figure instead of him dieing he could just leave.)

[GruffyBears]

Walter's journal,

I'm not sure how, but I've ended up teaching a few of the stableboys the art of swordplay. I know, I know, completely irresponible to give 'em weapons and training, blah blah blah.

But I'm shockingly bored. Teaching the kids to fight and translating Beardonardo's journal still aren't enough to keep me occupied. Oldbeard's been muttering about underwater boats and "Finally gettin' back at the carp!"
Hell if I know what it is, but it sounds like an interesting project and I enjoy the company of that ancient half-mad dwarf, so I might see if I can work under Oldbeard (and Bromek, if he's involved) to get a bit of mechanical experience. From what I've deciphered so far, I've seen a few interesting flying machine designs and I'm tempted to try build a 'glider' although I don't know where I'd launch it from.

One of our comrades, Labs, has decided on a less dangerous life of fishing, although from what I've heard of dwarfen fish our job is safer. I hope he finds happinness in his new life.

[CJ1145]

Kogan's Journal

Well, apparently Walter's been getting into WorkerDrone's things as well as I. Fair enough, since it draws all the blame to him. That damned coward thinks he ought not to fight me, for some damned principle of the matter or other bull of the same sort. I say he's a coward. Strategy and cunning run in my blood, all he's got is watered-down booze and a bit too much pent-up anger than he can take out on the drunkards and thugs that inhabit this land. I'll show him what for sooner or later, and when I do I think I might open up that little book of mine, see if I can trounce him on the battlefield and in his own psyche as well.

Later that night...

Well, a turn for the worse. Labs has decided that the lad'd be better off on a fishing vessel. That's no place for a dwarf, and we've all had a go at talking him out of it, but his mind seems to be made up. In the end, though, the decision rests with Bjorn. Also, that'a another thing I particularly dislike about being a mercenary. No chain of command, just a leader and bunch of riffraff. And more importantly, it puts me on even terms with that bastard Olon. I'd spit, but it just doesn't have the same feeling when read as opposed to seen.

[GruffyBears]

Just working on a background for Walter. I think I'll just write it out as it comes to me.

Seventeen years ago,

Freightwilders, a human town,

A small boy runs, in rags, down a dark, empty street. Panic and terror are clear on his face, as he hears the sounds of the bloodhounds barking followed by warhorses galloping. The boy glances around, unsure of where to go next.
The warhorses get closer, their steel-shod feet echoing of the paved road. The boy sees a small alley, darting inside just as the hunting party approaches. The bloodhounds tear inside the alley, their masters close on their heels.
They circle a box and one of the men, grinning, unsheathes his sword and stabs in a gap between the planks. A red liquid leaks out onto his sword. The other man moves to open the box. He removes the lid, curses and storms off. The first man glances in the box, confused by his companion’s reaction. He looked inside. A freshly slaughtered deer, probably put here not more than a day ago. The first man slams the lid back on the box in anger, and following his friend’s example curses all the way back to the horse. The boy had planned it from the start. And their master would not be happy.
Out of the same alleyway, the small boy reappeared, grinning now, with the first man’s sword in his hand. A scimitar, it was not a graceful weapon, but it would suffice. He walked to the town stables to meet with his friend Mat and his merchant father, as they were leaving town today.
One last thing, he realised he had nearly forgotten, was a new name. Although his first name was unspectacular, the notorious surname of Wolfrags would earn him no friends.
After thinking for a few seconds, he decided on Walter. It was nothing special, nothing too plain. Exactly what he needed to disappear…

[WorkerDrone]

Inside one of the castles halls.

Olon glanced around a corner. "Alright. Hang it over the bed." His accomplice looked nervous. "Uh, sir, I mean Olon, I mean Worker-" Olon grabbed the Dwarf by the shoulder. "Hush already! What is it?" The Dwarf hefted the surprise WorkerDrone had gotten together. "What if we get caught!" He whispered angrily. "This wasn't my idea." Olon sighed. "Look, the bastards been messing with my business. I looked through one of my chests, and, besides what I already know Oldbeard tried to sneak away, and what the Human took, that this guy is the only one with enough balls to go searching for compartments. He took my black book, and I want it back."

His accomplice gulped as Olon looked a inch away from tearing out his throat. "Okay, fine. Lets just get this over with."

WorkerDrone pinned the head of the buck he had bagged on his hike over his target rival's bunk. Written over the wall, in deer blood, was a short and vivid message.

Give it back or I'll take it back.

Note:

This is starting to get interesting. If it really does get complicated, Jackrabbit has GOT to make images for a fight between Kogan and Olon.

[CJ1145]

Indeed, WorkerDrone. It'd be interesting, to say the least.

Moments later...

Kogan walked back to his bunk, after a game of chess down at a nearby tavern. Anything to get the creative juices flowing anymore, even if it meant playing a simple human's game to pass the time. He was mildly surprised, however, that he had a guest with him tonight. A deer's head hung above his bunk, with the words "Give it back or I'll take it back." written in something red beside it.

Hmm. Still wet, he thought to himself. The Dwarf commander reached out and got a bit on his finger, and tasted it.

"I'll give the fool this, at least he actually used the thing's blood. I'm surprised it's not tomato paste."

Kogan had taken the book, yes, but it wasn't like his hotheaded rival didn't have it coming. It was about time someone gave that dwarf his come-uppance, and it might as well be him. Kogan calmly went over to a hidden compartment, and retrieved the source of WorkerDrone's anger: a little black book. Kogan opened it, and ripped out the first page.

He swiftly walked down the corridor, to the room where WorkerDrone stayed. He took out a small bone dart he had stolen from the tavern, and pegged the page to Olon's door. He then retrieved a small knife from his pocket, and carved on the door a short sentance:

Come get the rest if you dare.

[Heron TSG]

No chain of command, just a leader and bunch of riffraff.

I'm still your commanding officer! Bjorn's just the employer.

I've been seeing a bit of infighting within the ranks, but hopefully this can solve it.

As you all know, gold is awesome. A LOT of gold is irresistible. In the depths of the sea, we can find thousands of sunken cities from the repeated flooding and recreation of the world. With a powerful submersible, along with diving bells, we could get enough gold to pay for an armada to take us home, along with the money to buy out every mercenary band on the continent.