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Yes, I read it when it updates!

Yes, I've read/am reading it all the way through!

[Boksi]

Those bauxite rods are puzzling. Seriously, the only possible link to it is to Kel's little cult thingy, and that's a very tenuous connection relying on some sort of magic to make it work.

[Lord Dullard]

I was under the impression that Stug was not so much stupid as brought up in a completely different culture. Lord Dullard, are you implying that he is daft in that last sentence of the journal entry, or that wrapping his head around the writing is making him concentrate too much leading to his head hurting?

No - the latter. Consider that he is being taught to write part-time in a second language by someone who has better things to do, probably only knows how to write semi-legibly in his mother tongue, since I doubt most goblins are literate - and you would sympathize with why he says it makes his head hurt. It's more of an expression of frustration than of stupidity. 

[Kanute]

@ Lord Dullard
OK gotcha! Also, I liked the "munth of rat."

[Kel the Oblivious]

I doubt my little group of addicts has anything to do with these rods. All my evil is stuff really far, far away. Did it carry into this land, or was this land already corrupt and my brew only lets it seep into the mind? I dun know.

[Sphalerite]

From the letter frequency and fixed length I'm pretty sure this is some kind of transposition cipher, possibly some form of route cipher, but I haven't been able to work out the mapping yet.

[Iituem]

16th Limestone, 353

"It seems there are more and more of you every time I visit, Urist," mused Datan as he stepped off the lip of the wagon, glancing up and around at the bright Nishan chapel.  "Enough, it seems, to prompt real architecture.  I am almost impressed."  Emerin noticed that he had brought a full three wagons and four additional packbeasts this time.  She commented as such.

"What can I say?" he shrugged.  "In the wake of the war the country is rebuilding, and the goblins have started taking advantage of the destruction.  Throws the old trade routes into chaos.  As expensive as it is keeping this little town of yours secret, it is also my most profitable venture."

"Expensive?" asked Emerin, surprised.

"Oh, yes.  Much of the proceeds from that little bribe of yours last year went into a lot of other pockets, I'm afraid.  Sorry, did you think it would be easy to hide a village of nearly fifty dwarves?  Especially one that builds upward and makes its presence so obvious?  Fortunately, we are plenty enough willing to overlook this for the suitable fee."  Datan held out a hand.

Emerin presented him with a box containing a wrought iron flute, encrusted with rubicelles and amethysts, bringing a smile to the elf's features.  He snapped the box shut and slid it into his coat.

"Since you seem to have such skill here working gems," he explained, leading Emerin to one of the pack beasts, "we brought you some materials to work with."  Datan removed a small iron box from the beast, unlocking it and showing it to Emerin.  The old gem thief felt her heart melt.

"Are those yellow diamonds?" she almost mouthed in awe.

"Indeed," grinned the elf.  "I see you've picked out the star rubies as well, not to mention the emerald.  There is a very wide selection of gemstones here, more than suitable for your needs I hope.  You will of course give us a very generous price, I am sure."

"Of course," smiled Emerin broadly.  She didn't even need Danielle to calculate how many firecaps this little treasure trove would bring.

"We also have plenty of alcohol, including a few barrels of local desert brew for sale if you wish."

"Local brew?" asked Emerin.  "There are people living in the desert?"

"You did not know?  Dwarves, my dear Urist.  It seems there are others who have heard about your little settlement and more importantly about the trade route developing along it.  We passed two desert grottos on the way here, burrowed into the sand.  Perhaps you would care for us to pass on a message to any more we might find, on our way to Abbeyverse?"

"You think there will be more?"  Emerin looked horrified.

"If not now, soon," chuckled Datan.  "Perhaps, dear Urist, you should begin planning to cater for more than just your immediate town."



18th Limestone, 353

"Psst," hissed a voice from behind the chapel entrance.  The dwarven guard, Likot, paid it no need.

"Psst!" came the voice again.  Likot scratched her beard boredly.

"Oi!  You!" muttered the voice.  Likot raised a bushy brow and turned to the source of the noise.  A rather grimy dwarf with a little copper barrel strapped to his back was loitering around the archway.

"What's the matter?" enquired the guard, raising her crossbow casually.

"How much is that barrel of snakeman venom?" whispered the furtive dwarf.

"About seventy gold coins," said the guard, "but I'll need a signed chitty from your guardsmen, since it's dangerous."

"How much without the chitty?"

"How much do you have?"

The dwarf glanced around nervously, then opened up a little bag.  Faceted gems gleamed within.  Likot opened up the bag and studied it for a moment, then nodded and waved one of the other guards to pass a small wooden keg to him.  The dwarf took it gratefully and hobbled off, muttering something about ingredients.  Likot quickly pocketed the gems.  There would be time enough in Abbeyverse to spend it all on ale and whores.

[scuba]

journal:
     YES my constant asking to join the military haw worked!!!... well to some degree. though i am just a guard. i will be able to train somewhat and help protect the fortress. all the mining i have done has strengthened me  and i will become stronger. i will not let them down.

[Redhades]

Absolutely wonderful story.
Reading it all so far has taken a lot of my time, being a slow reader in English.

Have you got a dungeon master yet? If not, could he be my dwarf at some point?

Name: Gethro (whatever the gender)
Profession: What usually comes with that type of noble ( Animal trainer/caretaker )
Description: He was exiled form his former fortress for having been found practicing lewd acts of unnatural affection upon the baron's favourite horses. Gethro had been tasked with the care and training of the baron's pet beasts for many years. He also forged the chains and cages used in the Baron's stables. After admitting (with little shame) that he had been secretly providing the beasts with his "passionate handling" ever since he was assigned to them, he was promptly thrown into one of his own cage and dumped over the nearest waterfalls.
He miraculously survived the drop, freed himself from the locks (knowing them well since he crafted them) and swam to safety.

[Aldaris]

Interesting story so far, really enjoying. If you're running out of ideas you can always drop some bad luck on Mincewind.

[Kel the Oblivious]

You have free reign over flashbacks, hallucinations, nightmares, bad acid trips, spirit quests, or other goodness with Kel. His mind is seeped in the stuff everyone is begging to get their hands on. Play around with that. I wanna see how well you can play someone's mind melting 

[Iituem]

Vignette: Peasant Dishes 15th Sandstone, 353 The soft chime of the bell signalled lunch break, and so Kel, Mincewind and Fora gathered by the pool in the spawn cavern to eat.  The glowcaps were not yet ready for harvesting, so small luminescent bowls were hung from the ceiling by chains, hammered into the solid rock.  Fora picked a spot relatively thin in the grime and muck that characterised the seeding grounds, kept fresh by composted weeds from the desert above, settled into a comfortable position and unrolling the threadmoss cloth containing their victuals. "We used to eat these back in the fortress farms," she commented, taking out the small wraps and passing them between the others.  Rough redbulb pastry concealed a firecap paste and a little pickled lorta leaf, a rare shade of green in the dwarven diet.  Hidden in the pastries was a special treat; very fine shreds of smoked dogmeat.  It had been payday not long before, so Fora had saved for a bit of flesh from the slaughterhouse. "I brought some treats too," chirped Mincewind cheerfully.  Kel eyed Fora cautiously as the self-proclaimed 'kook' produced a handful of apparently ordinary firecaps.  It would have taken a sharp eye to discern the small cuts made in the mushrooms, and Kel had such an eye. "Lovely, Mince," he murmured, sniffing one.  "They're stuffed with... eggs?  No, wait.  The miners hit a brimstone deposit excavating out the gypsum, didn't they?" "For a really fiery taste!" encouraged Mincewind.  Kel slipped the firecaps into his pocket with extreme care, promising to save them for later.  He picked up one of the little pastries and nibbled on it. "What do you call these?" he asked. "Shigo," said Fora.  "When I was a kid we used to save up for them, the scant coppers we'd sometimes get from helping out with deconstruction work or the like.  You'd finally get one and eat it a tiny piece at a time, until one of your friends asked for a bite.  So you let them have one and you always regretted it because they'd chomp off a massive block and wolf it down and that'd be half a week's pocket money down someone else's throat.  When I got older I used to get a platter of them made on holidays and eat them all a bite at a time.  They probably still eat those there now." "Why didn't you stay?" asked Mincewind, picking up one of the shigo and nibbling the end cautiously. "Stuck with the Duke when the challenge came.  Couldn't stomach the idea of elves telling me what to do.  When the Duke went down at the battle for Lanternwebs I fled back home, but the Queen's troops had already taken the fortress.  Maybe they wouldn't have even noticed me, but I couldn't risk it.  Zas, I miss that place."  The three sat in silence for a moment. "So how's our friend who got laid up doing?" asked Kel. "Not good," muttered Fora, looking down to avoid his eyes.  "She refuses to rest, she won't take the draught any more but she's still getting the nightmares, even after you managed to sort out the dosage so we awake before that." "Nightmares?" asked Mincewind. "Nothing to worry about," dismissed Kel glibly.  "Just troubled sleep.  Why don't you think about that marble cake recipe you were working on?" "She wants to talk," said Fora urgently.  "I've tried to convince her not to, but she wants to talk to the Captain.  I don't know what to do." "I'll talk to her," reassured Kel.  "I'm certain I can convince her to keep her silence until her injuries no longer trouble her." "Are you sure?"  Fora frowned and bit her lip. "Trust me."

[Iituem]

Sgt Broose's Diary
22nd Sandstone, 353

Just got back.  Goden's dunking his head into a barrel of slatterjack and I don't blame him, we've been rationing water and glow wine for the last two weeks.  Seems I arrived just in time for the upper apartments to be finished and outfitted, including the captain's, and Fath is pretty much done copying out all the bloody nonsense he scribbled on that boat.  I hope to Gigin he lives, because nobody else is going to figure out that rubbish.  It all looks like lines and jommetry to me.  Also, the creepy goblin kid is apparently a guard now?  Weird.

There are six of these 'sietches' (desert grottos, basically) along the trade routes right now.  Four on the route from the inner country to Abbeyverse, two along the Gibdan sand routes.  Between four to twelve dwarves in each, took a census for Dani because Goden can't do sums so well.  Couple of them (the ones on the Gibdan route) were already there, including a couple of glaziers and their apprentices.  Go figure.  Rest popped up over the last couple of years, mostly relatives of the existing sand-dwellers who wanted to get out of the country.  Desert's not subject to the Queen, not worth the expenditure to control it.

Menu in the sietches not much to write home about.  Glow wine and this rather weak drink made from spiky desert pears, then peppers, agave and firecaps baked in desert maize wraps.  Spicy both in and out, I can tell you.  They do have these giant worms in the desert.  Thick as my thumb, they are!  Taste great with a bit of punch treacle.

They did mention seeing goblins scouting the region from time to time.  Looks like their own war with the Queen isn't going so well, heh heh heh.

[Iituem]

Emerin's Log
5th Timber, 353

The river has frozen over again, putting a crimp in Fath's water power designs.  Apparently he just can't get enough volume to push the mills.  In other news, the Nishan chapel is now fully complete and awaiting installation of their 'sacred cabinet'.  Danielle has started the clock on their debt.  An additional little amusement has presented itself as well; the Nishans do not actually own their own chapel.  Currently the only private property belongs to the Nakashian shrine.  I don't doubt this will change in time but the idea amuses me greatly for now.


14th Timber, 353

I will give Kulet this much; he has style.  Carved out a block of solid native platinum into a statue of Nish, cowled in the robe of the Dark Wanderer, stretching one hand out to point and holding small wheel in the other.  I can only assume the statue will be oriented eastward (big surprise), but the craftsmanship is absolutely masterful.  Danielle put a price tag of six thousand firecaps on the unadorned sculpture, but I understand Kulet is paying Karana to adorn it with imported gemstones.

Given the Nakasians essentially have a monopoly on the most gifted jeweller in town, I am beginning to realise how it is they can possess enough wealth to buy out the land around their shrine.  For all their apparent humility, perhaps it would pay to keep a closer eye on them.  When I raised the issue with Frey, he suggested a contact in their ranks.  Not sure how comfortable I am with that, but can it hurt to be cautious?


18th Timber, 353

Kadol, one of the planters, has gone completely insane.  Already committed to extended bedrest after an accident months ago, she suffered from nightmares and delusions at length and finally broke down completely last night.  She has been reduced to a state of gibbering and crying and refuses to recognise the world around her.  Out of the incoherent babbling only one word keeps resurfacing; nazush, an archaic term for blood.  The captain initially suspected the influence of the unknown substance she banned earlier in the year, but no trace was found in any of Kadol's food and drink or in her room.

As Kadol is now barely eating and drinking and her mind has completely gone from the delusions, it is only a matter of time.  Her tomb has been prepared and her friends have said their goodbyes.  The captain has received no further reports about nightmares or accidents since the drink was banned, so hopefully this will put an end to such misfortune.


16th Moonstone, 353

For a joke, I banned the export of adamantine items today.

It could happen.

[ousire]

ok, these books and rods must somehow revolve around armok. considering that we have a dwarf speaking in ancient tounge about blood constantly now

[Kel the Oblivious]

A neatly squared and smoothed chalk slab. Blue ink covers a great deal of it, sketching and etchings of plants, geometric shapes, odd shadowed figures and one small picture of a small squat stone building, several large copper stills sticking out of it..

Journal of Kel Ragebrew

I have been tasked with clearing out some of the stone from Kadol's tomb. Ironic... I will be the one hauling in the coffin she will dream eternally in. I had little chose in the matter. I will not let some fearful dirt churner ruin my efforts. Not now, after I have removed the worst of the effects to those less crazed demented mentally unsound than myself. They dream, they do not awake screaming. I still have yet to remedy that for myself, but it must be the horrors I witnessed first hand that have scarred my mind as such, not just the essence of the plants I brew.

I pity I had to waste so much of my Blood Ink on her, but it was safer then, say, cleaving her skull asunder. And my mind rests easily knowing her death is not at my hands. Yes, I may have broken her mind, but it was her own weakness that let cracks grow in the first place. Still, her journey to the here after, if such a place even exists, will not be done sober. I have requested one of the smiths to make me a simple flask. I told him, while I didn't know Kadol all that well, old family tradition says someone needs to leave her with a flask and a drink, so she can bribe the guard to the afterlife or at least share so he's a bit friendlier.

I have still not decided what to do with the snake man venom. Hiding the barrel was simple enough, a few hours at night digging another hole outside the eastern wall, before going berry picking. The plants here are fairly mundane, but they to brew up well enough. I think I am going to request a full time still being made, so I can create less baleful brews to line my pockets legitimately. I have not accepted a single firecap for my brews. I just take food, and the occasional trinket. Even if I sold my concotions for the price of a normal cup of ale, people would notice every payday I would suddenly have a lot more caps floating around, even though I am just a hauler who knows how to pick through bushes and get some berrys.

Throwing the twig and ink bottle back into his small stone coffer, the ragged dwarf lifted himself from the bed and began walking outside, his bare feet light on the floor.

Standing out in the cold night air, he clenched his journal entry close, following the same path he took every night, even if he wrote or not. He dug out the same hole, watching both the fine grains of sand fly away in the night breeze and anyone who wandered around at this hour. His ritual was common enough, and no one bothered the mad dwarf. Easing the tablet into the hole, he neatly filled it back in, drawing a picture of a cow in the sand before getting up and wandering back to his room. He wasn't in the mood to get sand in everything tonight, he would use his actual bed.