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[Eagle]

Ragna's Log

Stug is still following me around. Growing up outside the Mountainhomes, he seems to respect strength as the only qualification of leadership needed. My stories only seemed to have only encouraged this following. I have no idea why i let him into the Guard. Oh well, he may turn out to be a capable fighter.

--------

Militia shows great improvement, particularly Jora. She still showboats too much, but at least she can kill effectively now. Must work on squad tactics though; most of them split up and charge individually, which is good against small groups, but even in this isolated location, soldiers should still know how to fight on a battlefield, as part of a larger army.

Khane has been asking for a double bladed spear for a while now. Against my better judgment, I gave him one. Here's hoping he doesn't stab himself in the foot with it. At least its better than some of the other dual-bladed weapons ive seen; it has a distinct advantage over them in that you can actually use it effectively.

--------

Still surprises me how many remember the Old Masters. They seem to have passed into legend for those that remember them in the Homes, and those that do remember are nearing the ends of their days. Still, telling the stories of my past, especially when I had to explain about the Force to the younger dwarves, has got me thinking. I can still sense it, though not well, and I worry about what I feel here. There seems to be a darker edge than normal to it around here...

----------------------------------
Blargh, my writing is horrible compared to your's. I made a few small assumptions when writing the log: first, that Stug is in the Fortress Guard, and second, that Ragna can sense (weakly) the Force, but can't control it as the elves do. Maybe my clumsy writing will give you a plot point or something.

Keep up the good work!

[scuba]

wow nice good as it will ever be maybe later on it will be better but still very good

journal:.
     ...so they still wont let me be in the militia....they say i am better as a miner. well that may be true i still want to do something better with my dwarven life. i will continue to try and become part of the army but i will also work on my mining. well i hope i get some major mining plans where i can reveal my true talent for mining. and maybe when we get to many miners... i might be able to join the militia.. but until then i will work on mining while not give up on my military plans.............. Stug seems ...abnormally attached to ragna. i wonder how she is dealing with him. the storys of ragna's about elven masters is fasinating. maybe after some more mining i could try out some metalsmithing or weapon forging. i never tried it before but i fear for my thumbs.

[Iituem]

Emerin's Log
15th Haematite, 353

The outer walls of the Nishan chapel are complete, the whole construction a rather bemusing mosaic of yellow and blue tiles.  Kulet seems to believe this rather gaudy display demonstrates wealth, though many dwarves have welcomed the bright respite from the endless white and red of the chalk plains and desert sands.  The trade depot has been moved there, rebuilt in orthoclase and just in time for the human merchants to arrive.  They come with a donkey, camel and two wagons.  Ibon appears to still be the Guild's representative to the west, I've welcomed her to use my new quarters until the trading is finished.


Ragna's Log
17th Haematite, 353

At Urnriddles' request and Emerin's insistence a re-election was performed to include the votes of his migrants.  The gesture ensured that Emerin was voted in freshly for a full new year.  In other news, a goblin thief who has been tentatively identified as Ago was caught in one of Fath's pit traps.  Unsure what else to do with him, he has been locked in a cage and is being kept with the animals and fed on scraps.  The young troublemaker Stug has taken to hanging around the creature; I had expected a bad turn to come of this, but Stug was the first to suggest killing the thief outright.

Been watching the trade goods hauled in, checking all the stuff in barrels.  No sign of those missing tools.  While I was there some idiot fell off the scaffolding on the upper level apartment expansions, got himself a broken arm.



Danielle's Inventory
24th Haematite, 353

After trading with the Gibdan merchants, we have obtained 47 logs of wood, a few bricks of pearlash, a vast quantity of liquor (well over 200 gallons), barrels (including a couple of lye barrels) and many bins of cloth and leather.  Urgash insisted on the lye for soapwork, apparently a childhood passion of his.  He was expressed a desire to eventually pass on all of his various duties to apprentices and take up the dogherding business full-time, producing soap as an aside.




26th Haematite, 353

"I've been robbed!" exclaimed Emerin, barging into Danielle's office.  The savant ticked off a couple of boxes on the report slate in front of her and calmly placed it into the 'Out' box on her desk before looking up.  With a mechanical squeak a pair of arms on the 'In' box lifted the next slate and placed it down on the desk.

"Have you?" asked Danielle.  "What was taken?"

"My gems," said Emerin.  "An amulet, too, from the chest in my rooms."

"Really?" said Danielle, a puzzled expression forming.  "I have no record of you owning any gems, or an amulet.  Perhaps you meant one from the stockpile, except-"  Here she reached for a slate behind her and placed it on the desk.  "-it would appear there is no record of any gone missing from the stockpiles.  Should I send for one of the haulers to take a stock check?"

"Ah, no, that won't be necessary," backpedalled Emerin quickly.

"If you say so, though I'm not sure what sort of legal recourse you can take to a set of stolen jewels that you have no receipts for, are not in our stockpile records and by all accounts do not exist."  Emerin flushed, prompting a charitable smile from Danielle.

"Perhaps," the savant suggested, "you might mention this to the captain anyway, just so she can be on the lookout for any non-hypothetical thefts."

"Perhaps," muttered Emerin, glancing darkly at the offending stock report in front of Danielle.

"Still, at least you can relax now," said the book-keeper.

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, it isn't as if you had any other caches that might've been stolen, is it?"

Danielle tried her very hardest to suppress a laugh as Emerin blanched and practically ran from the office.  She reached for a handful of firecaps from the bowl on her desk and set about her business as she ate.




-----------

Nearly all good, though Stug is at this stage just following Ragna around.  He's not in the military yet.  I wasn't sure about Ragna and the Force (how you'd feel about that), but I'll take that as a go ahead to explore that further.

[Jim Groovester]

Emerin gets a lot of time featured in the story, so I don't really need to write journal entries for her, but I want to anyway.

Emerin's Log

My star rubies! Some... some thief!! Some petty thief stole them! Never in my many years as a... redistributor of precious jewels did I ever get star rubies! This is highly distressing. I looked all over my office, I looked all over my dining room, and I looked all over my bedroom. They were nowhere to be found!

I asked Danielle if she knew where they were, because she knows where everything is. That was a mistake. They weren't on her records she said, so they must have never existed, so they couldn't possibly have been stolen. Unless they were stolen in the first place.

Believe you me, the irony of a former jewel thief becoming a noble and losing her own jewels to theft is not lost on me, nor was it on Danielle, who merely sat there relishing the entire situation with a smug look on her face. Danielle is very helpful to the settlement, but dammit, I wish she wasn't so good at her job.

Maybe she needs a situation of her own loaded with irony. I think I'll hire somebody to harass her about starting a glowcap based economy.

I've been reelected mayor, somehow. It seems my attempts at finding a replacement by instituting democratic policies are being misinterpreted as genuine and gracious efforts on behalf of the people to keep the position of mayor truly democratic. I am unfortunately gifted at politics.

Though if I had to take a guess at who is masterminding the political scene, that would easily be Frey. He's been my unofficial adviser since this fort began, and he's also 'campaigned' on my behalf for the position of mayor. I've wondered what his reasons were, but they elude me. I hope I'm not just his puppet.

[Kel the Oblivious]

Written in a deep blue ink on a pure white slab of chalk

Journal of Kel Ragebrew

I had the dream again. I do not know how many times I have had it, but I know my flight from the swamp only contained them. How long has it been since I fled my home? I know it has been more then a year, but past that I can not recall. Each night, that dream. No matter. Those demons will never find me. They can keep rotting in their thrice cursed swamp, with all their delicious, mind opening plants.

(A small image of a plant, it's stock bent at angles and it's flowers looking like razor blades. A single fruit hung just below the flower. The ink turns to crimson, detailing the fruit in remarkable clarity.)

So I gave a pint of Bog Water to the farmer lass, Fora, I do believe. It had the expected results. Paranoia and whispers in her ears. I just wish she hadn't leapt into the pool. If no one had fished her out, her death would lie heavily on my mind. But as she did not, I shall see what the result of Blood Ink is. The goblins who attempted to attack provided me with more then enough blood. Amazing how well a narrow iron boot holds fluid. (A few blots of red cover the next few words) Oops, transfer error to the still. Have to let the blood start to thicken before adding it, otherwise it just tastes wrong. Then again, only I have tried it... Maybe it will taste better if I pour it in fresh?

Also, I will have to be there first when one of our stalwart defenders falls. I have never attempted this drink with actual dwarven blood, and I doubt anyone would look too kindly on me taking it from the living. I know it is... a touch morbid, but I can only imagine the properties that dwarven blood would add to the drink. Even if it is only a thimble, the slightest ingredient can have the most profound effect... As I am finding while eating this roast. I just downed the last of my Bog Water to kill the fire in my mouth.

Putting down the simple twig he had been using for writing, and the small glass vial of watered down blue dye he used, the medicine dwarf rose from his bunk, looking around to the other sleeping forms. He slid out of bed, ignoring his heavy leather boots and just walking out bare footed.

Kel moved silently through the night, carrying with him his second journal entry. Since he did not like the prospect of his fellow luckless bastards finding out he had been experimenting with his brews on the thristy. He had buried the first one not too far from the southern wall. He so loved running his hands through the red sand as he dug a small hole. The color of the setting sun, made up of countless gems. He would sit on the ground there, picking up handfuls and let them trickle between his calloused, scarred hands. The price for learning how to pick blackberries.

For a few hours he would sit there, under the night sky, letting the sand trickle out one handful at a time till he revealed his first entry. Safe in the knowledge that anyone who saw him would just think he liked playing in sand a bit too much. He eased it into the hole, and began to cover it back up. He returned to his bunk silent again, and slid back into it, praying to Zas Coppercolored the Blueness of Dye that his dreams would not be haunted. The pint of Bog Water might have been a bad idea....

[Keita]

I don't think there's really a weapon like that in the DF raws (and Jora's sabre is really a scimitar), but I can say that your spear is double-bladed if you really want.  I'm not especially fond of double-sword type affairs because of how ridiculously dangerous they are to the wielder (and generally impractical), but a double-ended spear I can do.

yer you've just about got everything right. It is really just for story purposes and it take about a 6 months training with a Bo (think wooden Quater staff but lighter and slightly longer) before you're allowed to handle a proper one, mostly slashing and complicated spinging moves, gonna have to take it up again was goodd fun.

Anyway on topic thanks!

[Iituem]

"I want more."

"There is no more."

"I planted you the seeds, coaxed tghose dark, dank plants to grow!  There must be more!  We need more!"

"We?"

"The jewelled shrine, the sign of the divine.  I had to let others see it."

"...How many others?"

"We must dream again!"



Ragna's Log
2nd Malachite, 353

Mayor passed me a tip-off about some stolen jewels.  That is, re-stolen jewels.  I gather Emerin probably mined them out herself and never bothered to tell Danielle she had them.  Shall keep a note of that for the future in case I need any favours.

This on the back of the tools being nicked; we have a thief in the village.  Actually as I understand it we have many thieves in the village, what with half the population being ex-cons, but as of this moment we have a thief who has the beard to keep nicking things on my watch.  Thus far it's been things like firecaps and half-inching someone else's blanket, petty stuff that can be sorted out with a quick clap behind the ear and a stiff talking-to.  These jewels raise the bar, though.  If someone nicks jewellery it's because they think they can pass it off somewhere it won't be noticed.  Doable in a city but in a small place you need to get it out of town.

I'm a bit leary of watching the damned trading post again.  Apparently there was another serious accident besides the idiot falling off the scaffolding that I missed when staking out the damned depot.  Fellow grabbed a spare mining pick from the stores and tried to defend himself against something that wasn't there, ended up putting the pick through his leg.  We've got another fellow laid up for months now.  What in Onol's name is causing people to act like madmen?


5th Malachite, 353

Funny story.  Yngwie finally gets the ironworks up and running, smelts those goblets Emerin mandated to get it going.  Turns out the human merchants made her a good deal on iron short swords, so the Mayor's gone and barred us from selling said goblets until after the next human caravan to encourage more diverse production.  I don't understand this economics business, but apparently that firecap girl Danielle says it'll work.  Meanwhile, that madman Fath is wasting all the wood recently bought from the caravan on trying to get some manner of wind farm going.  Apparently Danielle's pressuring him not to 'ruin the natural lay of the land', but frankly a sea of mills is rather more an eyesore in my opinion.

Investigated the homes of the accident victims.  Found a wineskin in one of them with a bit of liquor left in.  Didn't smell like any of the imported stuff.  Two of the three accidents so far look to be Zassians, based on the little quartz idols in their belongings.  Don't recognise it.


8th Malachite, 353

Ascubis volunteered to test a bit of the mystery drink.  Said it tasted a bit weird and had a strong kick, very herbal.  Night after, had all sorts of weird dreams.  Says he doesn't remember much, except for there being a cavern and maybe some jewels.  I'm recommending the Mayor this stuff goes contraband until we figure out what it is and where it's coming from.  We don't need some lunatic drink making people see things.



12th Malachite, 353

"And the rain it raineth every day," came the soft song from above the workshops.  Captain Ragna frowned as she passed.

"Who goes there?" she called up to the roofs.  A lilting, lyrical voice answered from up above.

"Why madonna, but a simple singer,
And her life is but a simple thing.  Her
Belly to be full is what she'll desire,
Her heart filled with passion and free of ire."

"Show yourself," demanded the captain.  A dwarf swung her legs over the edge of the roof, peered down and grinned. 

Her hair was long and greasy, dyed glumcap black save for thick strands dyed bright blue, red and occasionally her natural blonde.  A white mask of chalk was painted over her face, eyes and lips highlighted in black pigment.  The look was polished off with a dark leather jacket, boots and mismatching threadmoss pants.  An iron harmonica rested in one hand.

"I see the shade of a milit'ry dwarf,
Spent a hundred years in a midnight wharf,
Haunted by the past; a well-trodden road,
Her fate thrice cursed by a blood-covered toad."

"Wait," protested Ragna.  "How do you know about-"

"Divinity and darkness; equal parts,
They seek vision in drink and not their hearts,
Guide them it will and lead them all astray,
For where the nightmare stops?  I cannot say."

"Dreams and darkness?  What manner of nonsense is this, fool?" demanded the captain, frustrated by the strange troubadour.  "Is this about the contraband?  Speak sense!"

"You tarry too long - your duty awaits.
Go; stop a goblin deciding his fate!
The errant-born child prevails with a knife,
I say you - begone!  Save the wretch's life!"

Ragna turned at the sound of shouting from the animal cages, then glanced up again.  The dwarf had vanished but the shouting continued, so she ran full pelt toward them.  She arrived to find Stug being held back by another dwarf as he struggled with a knife to kill the goblin in the cage.  Stug elbowed the dwarf in the face and brought the knife up again just in time for Ragna to grab his wrist and twist it until he let go of the blade.  Ragna lifted the cretinous dwarf up by the wrist and yelled at him.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded.  Stug barked his response in halting dwarfish.

"Want.  Death."

"I don't care how much you want to kill him!  You do not murder an unarmed prisoner!"

"Why?" Stug asked.

"Mercy!" snapped Ragna.  "Compassion, honour, justice!"  Stug just looked at her as if these were completely unfamiliar terms.  He pointed at the goblin in the cage, who appeared to be laughing at some sort of personal joke, repeating his earlier statement.

"Want.  Death."

"I told you, it doesn't matter how much you want-"  Stug shook his head vigorously.

"He.  Want.  Death," Stug explained.  "Want free."  The reasoning dawned upon Ragna, who found herself perplexed by an entirely different question.

"Why?" she asked.  Stug seemed to struggle for a word before eventually setting on one.

"Love."

[Kanute]

omg so good.

I always enjoy the way you portray the elves and goblins, letting us glimpse into a completely different culture than the dwarven (and human, obviously) one we all know.


+ finally ironworks -> Yngwie can start getting busy honing her craft: but really, it would be a lot easier making statues if dwarven faces were perfectly symmetrical. It doesn't help any that they move all the time, either, does it?

[Keita]

from the jornal of Khain:
Finaly! a bladed staff! it is like other weapons yet not, you can slash and pierce with it, and the craftmenship is excelent, I would have wanted to have had a wooden pole instead of iron for it to be lighter, but wood is in dire supply so I shal make do. I most practice with this new weapon, for I have shapened the blades to a fine edge and I'm ceartain, positive in fact that I can slice through a gobbo in one hit!

Next time there is a raid, I'll be ready. I will be in the fight while theres still some goblins left instead of cleaning up after Jora.
                                                                                                                         
this is very well writen and portrayed amasingly, I agree with the comment about the culture, your very good at this Iituem

[Iituem]

A bit of a note regarding everyone who downplays their own writing, btw.  My writing is still sub-par to Heavy Flak's, and miles below that in the 'Birth of an Artefact' story.  Use the writings of others to inspire you, but judge your own writing on its own merits.

They say it takes ten years to achieve Mastery in any subject (15 for Legendary?).  I'm currently at [no title] skill, and I've actually committed myself to writing for about 4 months now.  It takes 1 month of committed writing to hit Novice.  I think you get to Competent after a year?  Uncertain.

The only way to improve on your writing is to keep writing and to keep experimenting when you do it.  You will cock up often, but those are lessons from which you learn how to do things and (rather importantly) how not to do things.  I still have weak characterisation and there are synactic issues that bug me with my style; this story is aimed at helping me deal with unexpected events and incorporate them into a narrative (though it interferes with the novelistic aim of long-term planning and overall story architecture).  Tis fiction on the fly, with nary a redraft. 


There is no such thing as talent.  Remember this.  All success is 7/10ths preparation, 2/10ths skill and 1/10th luck.  It doesn't matter how much innate ability you have, it pales compared to the effect of skill.  If you want to improve, pick one problem area you have (maintaining plots, developing characters, even something as simple as correct spelling and grammar) and work at it until you're satisfied.  Don't worry about anything else you think you need work on, or it'll distract you.  Just get the one thing right and you can move onto the next one.

[Keita]

talking of insperation Iituem, you have inspired me to write and I'm about to type it up, just need a title...

[Rysith]

The only way to improve on your writing is to keep writing and to keep experimenting when you do it.  You will cock up often, but those are lessons from which you learn how to do things and (rather importantly) how not to do things.  I still have weak characterisation and there are synactic issues that bug me with my style; this story is aimed at helping me deal with unexpected events and incorporate them into a narrative (though it interferes with the novelistic aim of long-term planning and overall story architecture).  Tis fiction on the fly, with nary a redraft. 

Yep, Lanternwebs has definitely taught me that much, and I can see the improvement in my writing wandering back to the beginning. I'm trying to come up with some journal entries for Jora, but haven't really settled on a voice for her yet.

[Kel the Oblivious]

As I have learned, even a competent crafter can produce masterwork goods once in a great while. Do not cut yourself short. You might not be as long as the others. This is stil very enthralling, and I make sure to check this every time I get some time online.

P.S. Oh dear... I am making a cult of nightmare seeking zealots to the goddess of revelry. Should I take this to my advantage, or attempt to try and reverse the damage I have done? *Sits down and ponders this*

[Enzo]

I have to say, after having fallen a few pages behind and catching up today, you shouldn't downplay your own writing either Iituem. The thing that struck me today was that I don't know who my favourite character is anymore. In the good way. Urgash seems quite content to settle down and stay in the background, which is fine cause it seems to suit him. But the starting seven (possibly minus Frey, the heroic mute), Yngwie, Stug, Ragna, Jora, even Datan the Trader are all fun and totally awesome characters already. Probably more I forgot. You say you're bad at characterization but it's no secret that characterization is hard, especially when you're dealing with so many and trying to give them equalish treatment.

Makes me really want to do something like this too, but life intervenes, and there seem to be a lot of community forts going on already. Oh well, I'll just write an Urgash journal later on...

[scuba]

journal....
     the dreams oh GOD THE DREAMS!!!!!!. never do i want that stuff again. though i can't remember much  it is still there haunting me the bare cavern...and the jewels. i can;t remember i must forget.!!!!!!!!! i can barely get to sleep at night and with the racket stug is making over the goblin.  let the thing go out naked just to end the noise. i must get back to work......*end journal*