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[Aldaris]

Isn't it technically speciecide? I mean, elves and dwarves are different species, races are more like mountain dwarfs of the west and the other mountain dwarves from the east.
Still, interesting where this is going.

[Eagle]

"Very well, then.  Execute the order.  Sixty-six, you say?"

"Execute the order.  Sixty-six, you say?"

"order.  Sixty-six?"

order Sixty-six

Wow, so many unsubtle nods to Star wars. XD

I really like how the towns shaping up. All the characters have a lot of personality as well. Great job.

[Iituem]

11th Haematite, 354

"So, three-day voting fest, I understand?" said Gethro, stepping out of an alleyway as Emerin walked past.

"Gaargh!"

"The mayoral elections, that is.  Starting this morning, yes?"  Gethro seamlessly began pacing alongside the Lady Mayor, whose step remained unbroken despite the shock.

"Um, yes," said Emerin, trying to regain her composture.  "Where exactly did you come from?"

"Little trick your resident troubadour taught me.  Anyhow, I wanted you to know that you have my utmost support.  Everyone will be voting behind you."

"Er, thank you?"

"Yup, absolutely everyone.  For years, I reckon.  Especially now that you have nobility oversight on your actions."  Emerin frowned, then forced a smile.

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"Well, we can't just have the Mayor running around unchecked, can we?  Who knows what an unscrupulous sort could embezzle or otherwise get away with, yes?  Not that anyone would accuse you of such, Lady Mayor."  Gethro's smile was like oil.  Thick castor oil being forced down Emerin's throat, at that.

"Of... course."  Emerin's own smile went limp at the prospect.  "There's nothing I value more than oversight.  Yes-siree.  Looking forward to many more years in this thankle- rewarding job, with its miser- acceptable pay limits.  Yes.  Very."

"Not at all worried about the shadow horse in the offing, then?"

"Shadow horse?"  Emerin's haunted eyes lit up like a rat finally seeing the light at the end of the maze.  There was the possibility the light had a moustrap, but there was also the possibility the light had cheese.  "Someone else is actually running?"

"Well, we've been keeping it quiet," Gethro said off-handedly, "but I understand Master Urnriddled would like to have a greater hand in government.  I believe the death of his brother rekindled his interest in politics, and would certainly give him a lead in the vote.  Popular support and so on.  A good thing I have your back, yes?"

"Oh... absolutely."  The cogs in Emerin's mind started whirring into motion.  She had an out.  After three long years, she finally had an out...   Gethro patted her on the back.

"Of course, we both know that I'm just a corrupt aristocrat, right?"  He winked.  "So if, say, my apartments and office happened to be finished by the time the votes were ready to be tallied, I would have no reason to keep your support, would I?"

"Oh, no!  No, quite-  I mean, I wouldn't ever accuse you of such, Geth- dungeon master!  Quite certainly not.  Though I do believe Urnriddled would be far more susceptible to such pressures, if that were the case."

"Perhaps so.  Do enjoy your day, Lady Mayor."  Gethro smiled and turned into another alleyway, leaving Emerin pacing on, lost in thought.



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

Today's delayed post excuse is brought to you by A Biker Wedding!  Acquaintance from the biking club got married, had about 120 motorbikes come and convoy the wedding car to the hall where they got married.  That was a sight to remember.

This has nothing to do with that, but you should read it anyway because it has sadly taken a slight updating preference to Olonkulet.  I only have so much time to write, and the story with adverts and the potential for eventual revenue sadly has to take preference.  (But I'm still updating OK, damn it!  I made a promise!)

[scuba]

hmmm very good

[Iituem]

Gethro dropped, ducked and rolled as he entered his office, hooded cloak flapping in the air as he dodged the spinning slate disc that scythed out of the wall as he entered.

"Assassins!" he shouted, drawing himself up against the wall in fear.  Surely the Mayor has not been that intimidated?  He grabbed one of the nearby building blocks, wielding it ready to strike down the dwarf entering through the door, then hesitated when he saw Loksvig and Fath enter.  Would she really have sent her own lover to finish the job?

"Where?" asked Loksvig, looking around the bare, half-finished office.  Fath peered through his spectacles, trying to see black-robed dwarves hidden in the shadows.  Gethro gestured to the slate plate, still half-stuck out of the wall.

"So where are they?" Fath asked, apparently not noticing the disc.

"What-  Can you see it?  It's right there!"

"Oh, ye noticed!" cried Fath happily.  "How do ye like it?"

"Like- It tried to kill me, you maddwarf!"

"What?" asked Fath, looking at the device as if it were the most innocent object in the world.  "Don' be silly, that's ye daily organiser."  Gethro stared at him, slack-jawed, as the engineer helpfully spun the disc around and pointed to little scribbles etched into the slate.

"See here?  There's ye two o'clock with us, and if ye just revolve it around a bit ye can see ye four o'clock meeting with Danielle.  She's got one of these too, y'know."

"Really?" asked the dungeon master, for once completely out of his element.

"Much smaller," added Loksvig helpfully.  "She insisted you would need a bigger one, since you have a much fuller schedule."

"It's got iron blades on the side!"

"Well, of course we had to rim it.  You've got to keep replacing the slate eventually, and it's easier to switch the slates out on an iron frame than it is to replace the whole disc."

"If this is supposed to be some sort of organiser," Gethro asked suspiciously, "why did it spring on me like that the moment I entered?  I'm pretty sure I felt a touch plate under that."

"Danielle again," Fath supplied.  "We put a pressure plate on her desk so she could just push it and the disc would spring out.  Thought you might appreciate the same touch.  Of course, with it being bigger, it needed a bit more weight to spring it."

Gethro stared at them both blankly.




Loksvig's Work Notes
13th Haematite 354

Installed spinning trap disc at office entrance for dungeon master.  Well, we're supposed to keep the nobles safe, right?

[scuba]

lol i guess so

[Keldor]

Journal of Keldor:

14th Hematite, 354:

I heard that our beloved Dungeon Master was nearly killed today by his own mechanical daily organizer.  It just goes to show how these cursed mechanisms can make even something as benign as paperwork into a deadly weapon.  Note to self: decline any administrative positions.  Too dangerous.  I still can't believe I forgot my trap-probing stick back in my room.  I guess I'll just have to make sure someone else walks up front of me for the rest of the day.

[ousire]

nice update. innocent utility for the noble, or devious death trap? bwahah!

[Iituem]

15th Haematite, 354

Emerin sat on a small stone bench in the Giginite compound, staring at the bleached and polished skulls arranged like pebbles in a rock garden around the central statue.  Beyond the compound gates, the bustle and activity of the town went on, but here there was a brief element of calm.  She idly watched the new blacksmith Keldor hustling along the streets near the compound, shoving a rather harrassed Fora in front of him and complaining about traps.  She shook her head and returned to staring glumly at the skulls.

"Congratulations," said a voice nearby.  She heard Gehtro sit down on the bench beside her.

"So, I guess your support didn't mean that much after all," Emerin muttered.  "Urnriddled didn't make it."

"Ah, yes.  I may have lied about that."

"You didn't support Urnriddled, then?  I thought your new apartment would've been suitably convincing."

"It is very nice.  Very... organised.  No, I meant I may have lied abotu Urnriddled even being in the offing.  When I lie, I like to go the whole hog."  Emerin gave him a look of unconcealed hostility.

"So you just left me stuck in this job, then?"

"Rather more than that.  I've been pushing for your re-election all week.  Ragna was up as the alternative, and she really could have won the spot.  Danielle, too."

"Why?" emerin demanded, bunching her fists.  "I was nearly out!"

"Unfortunately for you, Emerin Claspfocus, your wants are relatively unimportant compared to the needs of Olonkulet.  As are mine.  You're staying in this job because even though you may not want it, you're good at it and that's more important to the survival of these people.  Ragna's inspirational, but she's not an administrator.  Danielle's got a keen mind and could organise the place well enough, but she lacks charisma.  Each of them are best suited to their places in the order, but you are best suited to your position as Mayor.  Humility, Emerin."

"What, 'know my place'?  Fancy sentiment coming from one of the nobility."

"Yes, know your place, but not quite as you think.  Humility isn't some way to keep people beneath you.  It's about awareness of the self, and the greater society one is part of, and of knowing where one best fits in that society.  Because of your coloruful history - and I have asked around about that - you are best suited for this position.  Because of Ragna's and Danielle's pasts, they are best suited for theirs.  Similarly, I play my role because it is what I was trained for.  A true noble, as any true dwarf in a position of power, must embrace humility or else they are a danger to themselves and the order they are bound to serve."  Gethro patted Emerin on the shoulder.

"Somethign to think about during your next term, Lady Mayor."

He stood up and left, and Emerin watched him go.  She returned to gazing at the Giginite skulls, a frown firmly creasing her brow.

[Keldor]

Journal of Keldor:

15th Haematite, 354:

I've taken to following Fora around, since she goes outside to farm, same as I have to to get to the forges.  Haven't heard of any trap-related deaths yet, so I guess we've been lucky so far.

I had a strange thought the other day.  For some reason, we use firecaps as our currency, but there's a problem with this.  Firecaps don't stand up particularily well to being handled heavily, leading to our money literally turning into brown mush over the course of a few weeks.  But what if our firecaps were made of metal?  A properly mixed rose gold alloy should take on the reddish color of firecaps nicely, and would wear much better.  I've been setting aside the nicest looking firecaps to make casts out of, and I plan to make some rose gold firecaps to show Danielle, who seems to be in charge of currency here.

((Who was the dwarf that makes the rock cakes?  I would have loved to make a joke about pulling them aside to avoid the manufacture of any sconefall traps...))

[Jim Groovester]

((Who was the dwarf that makes the rock cakes?  I would have loved to make a joke about pulling them aside to avoid the manufacture of any sconefall traps...))

That's Mincewind. Heh heh, sconefall traps.

Emerin's Log

All around me are people who have my best political interests at heart. What kind of twisted place is this where everybody's trying to keep me mayor instead of trying to steal my job? Since when was the reason that I'm good at the job any reason at all to avoid seeking my office? Where's the deadly intrigue of the King's Court, the bribery and corruption, the quid pro quo for political office and favors, or politics, as I think that's all described? I've seen more magnanimity and goodwill out of these hardy criminals and refugees than I think is reasonably capable for any being, be he dwarf, elf, or man. This is a truly strange place. Maybe there's something in the booze again, or there always has been.

Another entry

I had that dream again. It was the same building, a tower, but I saw more of it this time. A brilliantly lit tower that bounced the sun's ray off of polished metal surfaces, and then a crumbling tower that held a broken skeleton of machinery.

This is starting to worry me, but I don't know who I could go to. I've never been particularly religious. Being a thief makes that difficult, almost out of principle, if not out of pragmatism.

[Eagle]

Greetings from Siberia! Ive had a devil of a time getting internet, and it cost a fuckton, but i got on quickly to read. Great storytelling as always!

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

It's kind of weird knowing the final result, but not knowing what happens in the middle.
I think a good analogy would be that Olonkulet is my deformed bastard baby, but Iituem was the loving foster who somehow managed to turn it into something more.
Actually, that's a pretty shit analogy.

[Iituem]

Khain's Journal
20th Haematite, 354

We were inspecting the new artefact when the call came.  The mysterious infestation known as the 'Breed of Sewers' cleared from an afflicted dwarf's head a few days ago, leaving a memory gap and a brand new tetrahedrite door in its place.  Brilliant craftsdwarfship depicting a scene from history (a dwarf bred in true dwarven society striking down his brother, abducted at birth by goblins and raised in their evil ways), but nothing especially particular about it beyond that.  We had it brought down to Gearpoint to take a look at.  That's when we heard the horn.



Khain looked up suddenly as the clarion call sounded from the distant dunes.

"Brimclosets," he said, judging the distance and direction of the horn.  Around the half-finished watchtower, dwarves dropped their tools and blocks and reached for weapons and shields instead.  A second horn blew nearby in a series of blasts to signal the sietch militias to action, as well as to signify which sietch was under attack.  In less than a minute, a well-rehearsed squadron was ready and began marching across the sands to Brimclosets' aid.

Combat was already underway when Khain's forces arrived.  Some of the other sietch militiadwarves had made it to Brimclosets first and trapped Stonebreaker's raiders between their position behind a tall dune and the embankments at the sietch, bolts being fired from both sides at the raider marksdwarves as the axedwarves rallied and came at the defenders toe to toe.  Khain held back for half a minute watching the battle take place, then brought his forces in once the last militia reinforcement arrived.  The raiders balked at the sight of the suddenly doubled forces and began to fight a retreat away from the sietch, making for an opening in the shrinking circle of defenders.  The raiders withdrew and formed a line, halting their boltfire.  With the combined Gearan militia equal to them in number, Khain ordered the dwarves to form an equal line, ready to meet them in an advance.

The two forced waited, bows drawn and axes readied.

The leader of the raiders raised a hand and walked forward slowly, a heavy hammer in her other.  Khain looked at his troops, then cautiously did the same with his spear in his good hand.  The two met on the sands between the two forces.  The raider leader saluted.

"Sergeant Petra, of General Stonebreaker's army," she said.  Khain nodded stiffly in response.

"Corporal Khain, Olonkulet.  Will you surrender?"  Petra shook her head.

"No.  We do not wish a battle here, though.  Nor do you, the cost would be great even in victory."  Khain nodded cautiously.

"We are ready to defend our territory," he warned.  "We have just proved, we can summon this force at little notice."

"We can summon one ten times this size," Petra returned, though it was neither threat nor brag.  "But we have other enemies.  We do not need more."  She studied Khain's eyes for a moment and he hers.  They both nodded slightly.

"There is nothing of interest to the General here," Petra said, drawing herself up.  "We can raid elsewhere."

"That would be best," Khain agreed.  He bowed his head slightly and Petra gave another salute.  She turned to leave, then paused and looked back.

"Do you know," she asked, "a pair of dwarves named Jora and Datan by any chance?"

"Aye.  They have been kinsdwarves-at-arms in the past."

"Would you convey a message to them from me?"

"Perhaps," Khain said evenly, eyeing the raiders.

"Tell them," Petra began, then pursed her lips and frowned.  "Tell them I understand why.  That he needed me to be strong enough, for when the time came.  Tell them that Stonebreaker doesn't need slaves any more."  She paused, as if to add more, then turned and retreated to her forces.  Khain stood where he was, watching the raiders as they cautiously made their retreat.

[ousire]

this definatly feels like an important part of the fort's history right here. the first time that the small villages are working together to stop stonebreaker's attacks



(also, is the watch tower gonna be round shaped, or possibly gear shaped? just curious...)