Everybody on the list, and Poet and Dariush II, got dwarfed.
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As dangerous as it was, those occasions when it was profitable were so much so that Elven merchants had braved the journey to Failcannon year after year, risking life and limb in the hopes of a lucrative haul.
The danger was never understanded to those who dared such a journey, and it therefore came with little surprise but moderate disappointment for the traders when the dwarves coming out to meet them suddenly raised their weapons and attacked.
The caravan did not survive, but other elves would return the next year. They always did.
* * *
In the shallows south of Failcannon, a pod of whales swam about their lives in perfect obliviousness to the carnage of the lands above. For them, the Blueness of Malodors was a cozy place with warm currents and plenty of food. That the water smelled of cat piss never bothered them too much.
The Blueness of Malodors is truly not so bad compared to the sea of filth below.
Where once sat a pure aquifer beneath the Plains of Ooze now lies an ocean of poison, spawning pool of a legion of abominations howling in agony and rage untempered by reason as they putrefy in the mire.
Yet deeper still, there are cries of a different kind - jubilation.
* * *
Journal of Sethrist Cosmopaddles, AlchemistZathel, leader of the local Miner's Guild, was killed today during a scuffle with one of the soldiers. Xenos was reprimanded. We can't be killing off too many valuable personnel.
Specifically, skilled miners. The truemetal is vitally important to my work. The natural magnetism of the stone here makes detection of psychic signatures too difficult for me to pinpoint the sorcerer. In recognition of the advantage this has given me as well, it must be my advantage alone, and these adamantine caverns are the key.
They'll be quarters fit for royalty, but before royalty gets here, I intend to make full use of them. The military and the gentry can use the ore as they see fit, it is of little interest to me.
The previous mayor was given a funeral befitting a noble of his station. I later exhumed the corpse to extract all the blood, which was cycled into the bloodstream of a soldier who I am now referring to as 'Dariush II.' I hope to determine that blood is a working conduit of personality.
That's odd. I could have sworn I heard something.
Anyway, the discovery of adamantine has lent legitimacy to my bid for power. The countess is impressed, and although
PROBLEM!
Derm. I hardly knew him...
...before today. I must keep an eye on him.
To explain: Derm, a leatherworker of little renown, had been attacked by an enormous blood of flame in a hallway near the second cavern. This incident is reflective of a massive lapse in security that will take valuable time to deal with. I'm considering the appointment of a new Captain of the Guard, but it must be someone loyal, someone trustworthy.
Back to where I was. The countess was impressed, and though I have only been at my post the better part of a month, it was easy to convince her to let me --
What in the name of --
Another monster sighting, this time it's a vicious white lobster. The soldiers are arming now, and as Captain of the Guard, it falls on me to lead them.
Gods damn it all.
The lobster scrambled down the stairs and happened upon a hapless mason who was finishing up a security bridge in the area. The fellow was ripped apart in seconds. Seeing her friend torn to pieces, a nearby swordsdwarf cursed the beast and charged it, only to be killed just as fast.
Down in the old quarry, Derm had been placing food in a stockpile when the beast skittered into the hall, followed by myself and half a dozen armed dwarves. He was a new addition to the Fortress Guard, and aside from his encounter with the blob of flame, this was his first experience with combat.
Derm steeled himself and approached, spear at the ready. He waited for the beast to spot him before springing the attack.
A good punch to the head, and the lobster was dead. At this rate I may need to give Derm a house.
As I was saying: I had no trouble convincing the Baroness to allow me to place furnishings in the mined vein of adamantine. My plan draws ever closer to completion.
By the gods, these dwarves are
disgusting. On my way up from the smithy I passed through a hallway doused ceiling-to-floor in vomit. Someone's going in chains for this. What kind of jerk just gets sick and leaves it for someone else to...
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Topic: FailCannon: No Rest for the Wicked (or anyone else) (Succession: Battlefailed 2) (Read 939277 times)