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Yes, I read it when it updates!

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

[Aldaris]

Lituem!
Olonkulet!

[Bloogonis]

hurray for the return of this great piece.
I would vote for 1-2 awesome updates a week. just because its a good to have an update schedule that readers can mark on the calendar.

[Neyvn]

And the last page is reached...

FUCKING HELL!!!!

Give me more, more I scream.
A character to boot...

Fantastic Writing I will give you that my friend. I can't handle the writing of some of the other great forts out there, but yours captured the imagination and story telling that exists within every fort each and every one of us plays...

By the way, thanks for coming back, and I hope that there is more to tell later, and that I did not finish reading an unended epic tale...

[rickvoid]

This was quite the read.

I think I missed something during the fight though. I get that Ragna "Fell" (I doubt she'll be gone long though...), but what happened to Stug?

*Edit* Re-read the last couple posts. He basically disappeared right after they met Datan the Elf. If Ragna's dead, they'll probably find his body near hers, a ring of Gobbo corpses testament to his rage and skill.

Or him alive, well, and her half-eaten corpse, for the gross.

[Iituem]

Emerin's Log
19th Limestone 354

It's been a busy few days.  We lost a war hero and gained... I don't know what.  A war criminal?  There are very mixed feelings about the town regarding what Broose did, and they don't even know the full story.  Jora and Datan (both Datans) are under strict instructions to report to me and me alone right now.  I called Frey out from the gaols and even that rat-bastard Gethro for counsel.  Both of them suggested quite strongly we frame this as being the plan all along - Broose was there as a double-agent, everything he did was part of the plan, and there wasn't any real betraying at all. 

Yeah, right.  If he hadn't come back with so much information and those troops, I'd probably have him hammered.

Stug won't say anything, but that's no surprise.  He stumbled into town the day after Jora and Datan got in with the elf.  Covered in dried blood and mud, train of goblin and dwarf heads tied to his belt, first thing he does it go to the gaols and feed the damn prisoners.  All I know from him is that he got trapped by rubble when the castle collapsed and fought his way out, but he didn't see Ragna go down.  If anything, he seemed surprised she hadn't made it back.

I say surprised, he sort of raised an eyebrow and went off to have a few mugs of glow wine.  I guess we deal with grief in our own way.

Still, Ragna's death presents real problems for us politically.  She was an inspiration to start with, but worse is that I don't have anyone I can trust to fill her job.  The most military-competent soldier we have is Broose, and right now I don't trust him an inch above sergeant (which is what I cut him back down to).  He's subject to the marksdwarf leader, Eilam, now.  Kid proved himself in battle, but we lost a few dwarves during that sortie.  Danielle's ordered the statue bridge properly walled now; we won't be losing any more people that way.

Still, I can't use Broose and the new military captain is too busy handling his own patchy squads.  I sure as Deler's oil can't use any of the troops he brought into the city; they've been sent to Khain's watchtower six miles away.  Frey is still incarcerated (and I think I honestly prefer him there), Gethro refuses to do any honest work, I daren't take up the job along with the Mayoral duties.  Fath expressed an interest, but I listened to about two minutes of his propositions before rejecting him outright.  Constructing a two-hundred foot tall mechanical dwarf with a battleaxe is not a viable option for defence.

So the question is; Jora, Datan or Stug?  Which of them do I really trust to hold the role?


Evening note:  Received a communique from Danielle.  One of the jewellers has decided to commemorate the battle by sculpting something out of stone.  I say 'decided', she's done the usual trick of holding the brickworks hostage until someone brings her a large enough block of bauxite to work with.  I think I need to have words with Kel again about the 'free samples' he's giving to the work crews.

[rickvoid]

It's back! With Stug! Horray!

[Eagle]

Broken steel, shattered bone,
Further we march, our path unknown.
Silent battles beneath the sky,
March overground, just to die.

Far away, from our home,
A sea of death, with bloody foam.
Axes flash, broadsword swing,
Fight for the glory of our king.

Never falter, never die,
Roaring our ancient battlecry.
Bones bleaching beneath the sun,
Rivers red with blood will run.

Turn back, its too late,
Crush the foes with your hate.
Never surrender, never give,
Only through battle can you live.

Finally, the time has come,
Hear the pounding of the drum.
Fight till your last breath,
Serve your king unto death.

When in battle you will fall,
You will hear the ancient call.
Stir your soul, meet your lord,
Armok calls you to lend your sword.

After death, there is no peace,
Still you fight, with no release.
Break the ranks of the foul Soulsmith,
Let your name pass into myth.

Yet you cant fight anymore,
Survivor of a forgotten war.
Hear the war, smell the blood,
Taste the steel, a rising flood.
Nothing to lose, anymore,
Fall to the tides of this fell war.

[rickvoid]

I can only reply to the above in the most ancient and accepted manner.

WAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!

[Iituem]

Danielle's Inventory
24th Limestone, 354

Astesh has finally left the blockworks, and has a brand new bed to show for it.  Granted, the bed is carved entirely out of bauxite with a depiction of an historic battle in cameo on cave lobster shell, but we all agree that it's a very nice bed.  Astesh was mumbling something or other incoherently about 'ergo-gnomes', so I suppose it must be divine inspiration.  Or gnomish inspiration.

The trade wagons arrived today, as well.  The Liason, Datan, managed to get one of our dwarves to carry a message back to the Searing Crypts.  The wagon leader seemed... surprised.


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


The elf stepped off the lip of the wagon, garbed in a rich spidersilk brocade and deep royal purple coat, trousers and slippers.  Like all his kind he was a picture of health and beauty; tall, graceful and ever-youthful, with immaculate hair and stunning blue eyes.  His features were marred only by a gentle furrowing of the brow.

"Where is he?" the elf demanded as Emerin approached the wagons.  The mayor, wanting little to do with the affairs of elves, simply gestured to the currently vacant Guard Captain's apartments.  Blustering past the small crowd of curious dwarves, the elf wrenched open the stylish bauxite doors and gasped, the furrow of his brow turning to a mask of horror.

The creature that stood in the doorway was undeniably an elf, and yet no Elf could consider him kin.  Dressed not dissimilarly to his fellow, save that his clothes were in deep prairie rose scarlet and fashioned as of a higher rank, the elf still looked imposing, even handsome.  Nevertheless, the elemental grace of his kin seemed to have left him.  His hair had grown paler, robbed of the richness and vigour of youth, and his skin seemed thinner and more translucent.  Faint wrinkles were visible around his eyes and lips and there was the suggestion of bags beneath the former.  The greatest physical change was to his irises, a pale scarlet to match his clothes, but the most noticeable change was to his expression.

Where elves had regality, Datan showed dominance.  Where elves had dignity, Datan showed coldness.  His lips pressed back into a perpetual sneer, his eyes narrowed slightly in continual suspicion and barely-restrained aggression.  With barely a handful of changes to his expressions, Datan's beauty had been robbed of him, replaced by cruel, dark power.

"By the Force," the visiting elf breathed.

"Yes, it was," intoned Datan coldly.  "Embrace me, Sarvesh."  The elf did so, albeit after a moment's hesitation.  Datan clasped him tightly, if stiffly, then released him.

"So it is true," Sarvesh said, his voice tinged with awe and fear.  "You took the forbidden step."

"And lost my right to be known as an Elf, yes," Datan confirmed.  "My need was great, however, and we have given up so much already in the name of peace with the dwarves.  How are things in the Mountainhomes?"

"Strained.  Heads are rolling over the recent losses, but the army's mobilising for retaliation.  Who are this lot?  This place isn't on any of our maps."

"Strays, scavengers and criminals.  Exiles, but I owe them.  It's not on the maps because I kept it secret.  Now it needs to be."

"Why keep it secret?  The Queen will throw a fit when she finds out."

"It was a good place to shift the liquor surplus, and if she wants to throw a fit then she can throw it at me!" Datan snapped.  "But as far as she or anyone else in the Crypts needs to know, it's just a struggling outpost.  If I hear mention of walls, or guards, or especially the damned militia they've got set up, I'll hunt down each and every member of this caravan myself!  The last thing the kingdom needs is to believe there's another threat out here; Her Majesty will need all her troops just fighting off Stonebreaker and the goblins."

Sarvesh pursed his lips, looking around the little walled town and at all the short, dirty dwarves glaring up at him.  He glanced upward as well; three dwarves were apparently just lounging on the nearby town walls, but their crossbows were quite visible.  He sighed and raised his hands.

"As you wish, Datan, but I cannot promise it will be without consequence.  For you or this place."  He signalled to the wagons to proceed toward the covered market in the brightly coloured Nishan chapel.  "For now, join me, brother.  I am sure you have much to say."

"Not so much as I do not," Datan remarked, but followed the wagons regardless.

[Keita]

wow this is amazing stuff Iituem!

Is khain suffering from a spinal injury? I can't remember if it was really bad of just a mashed up arm.

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

How's Loksvig doing?

[Nirur Torir]

The story is still good: Worthy of praise and requests for more.

[rickvoid]

Hmmm... I wonder if an ethereal Ragna will show up to visit her Padawan, eventually.

[ousire]

yay! i come back to this place after a while to find out that updates had resumed on my favorite story! double yay that im involved somehow, even if all i did was set off the alarm!

[Iituem]

8th Sandstone, 354

Loksvig pounded on the door of the shack.  Somewhere within a sort of muffled crash resounded, which he took to be sufficient permission to enter.  He pushed the heavy chalk door and it swung open soundlessly on perfectly balanced bearings.  Loksvig marvelled at the lack of uncomfortable squeaking that usually accompanied such doors opening and made a note to ask Fath what he was using as a lubricant.

The engineer himself appeared to be buried in a collection of stone and iron pieces of machinery, brass tubing and steel springs.  Loksvig set the tray of crumpets and hot glow wine down on Fath's table and reached into the pile to pull the engineer out.  Fath blinked, brushing small cogs out of his beard as he surfaced.

"Well hello, Loksvig!" he beamed.  "What brings you here?"  Loksvig thumbed toward the tray of crumpets.

"Emerin mentioned not having seen you in a couple of weeks," he explained.  "We were wondering if you might have gone a bit, uh, moody."

"No, no, nothing like that," Fath said, dragging himself out of the array of parts to the table.  He picked up one of the crumpets.  "Redbulb flour, eh?  Nasty, nasty stuff, but worth it for the crumpets."  He raised it to his mouth and paused.  "Did, uh, Mincewind make these?"

"No, no, these are compliments of Urgash."  Fath breathed a sigh of relief and bit down on the crumpet, washing it down with some of the hot glow wine.  "Kel provided the wine, though."

Fath blanched for a moment, then shrugged and swallowed anyway.

"At least I'll sleep straight," he muttered.  Loksvig tilted his head at the pile of machinery.

"What are you working on there?"

"Oh, that?  Thinking machine, of course.  Trying to puzzle out the designs on that boat."  Fath hobbled over to the pile of parts and dragged out a small stone box full of small plates with runes on them and a clockwork abacus on the top.  He tapped it appreciatively.

"This can work out sums," he said proudly.  Loksvig tilted his head.

"That sounds interesting.  Can it do them faster?"

"Not as such, no.  It takes more time to put the numbers in that it would to work out the sum right now."

"Huh."  Loksvig shook his head.  "Anyway, I came to talk about the power problem."

"Ah, yes!" Fath said, his eyes lighting up.  "Has that dungeon master murdered your wife and taken her place yet?"

A brief, awkward silence followed.

"Not... that... power problem," Loksvig said, coughing.  "I meant the need for powered machinery.  A number of your defensive sketches need a lot of power.  I've tweaked them to account, but it looks like we're going to need to dam the stream to do that.  In fact, I'm not sure we even have enough space to do that, small as the stream is."

"Then damn the dams!" Fath proclaimed.  "We will draw power from the very air itself!"  Loksvig winced.

"You don't mean..."

"Yes!  Windmills!  Windmills, as far as the eye can see!"

"Fath, we don't actually have that much space we can put windmills on, you know.  I mean, not without it being a horrible eyesore."

"Then we will create space!"  Fath stood up as tall as he could (not very) and sweapt his wine and crumpet-stained robes dramatically.  "Come, Loksvig!  Let us harvest the wind!"





------


Slower updates than I had hoped, but with good reason.  I have a potential new job coming up that will be comfortably eating 12 hours a day if I get it (the commute is pretty horrible), but what has really been eating my time about that is the required reading for the technical assessment for the six-month training program; a book thicker than my wrist called 'UNIX Shells by Example'.

My getting this job is, incidentally, completely fraudulent.  As far as I'm aware, a grep is a kind of beast that likes to bash awks for food.  During lean times, it performs a sort of non-destructive editing of its environment informally known as sed, typically on the back of a GNU living on Solaris.  Its larger and more expansive cousin, egrep, subsists on a diet of korn, but has trouble with escaping certain metacharacters, who feed on it as a standard source of prey.