Act II Scene 1
Setting: Whiskeybridle, Graebeard’s Room.
Graebeard lies on his bed, scratching away at his journal. The room is perfectly neat but for the flurry of half-finished designs surrounding him on the bed and sliding onto the floor.
He speaks to himself as he reviews what has been written and begins to write anew.
1 Granite.“Obviously, it had to be a circle. We all agreed on that. I was fine with simple bilateral, but enosX insisted on perfect symmetry. More is always better, so I started drawing up plans. The walls are a pure white; symbolic of our new start. There will be plenty of time and space for glass later. For now we are as pure as snow.”
“The underground will, of course, mirror the above ground structure. We will not mine outside the footprint of our fledgling tower.”
2 Granite.
“An unexpected complication. There is no dirt here. But neither is there soil for planting or water for irrigating. We have no musky fundament in which to plant our seed. Perhaps the rain will come to our aid…”
5 Granite.“There is plentiful obsidian in these hills near the volcano. This we will use for our furnishings. The hard and glimmering sheen of Armok’s glass reflects the strength and edge of our souls. Later we may need to create our own. For now we dig out what Armok has given us.”
“The rain will not help. These murky pools dry as quickly as the rain fills them. We must find some other way.”
1 Felsite.“There is a cavern below our feet, a cavern where water and fertile soil abound. There’s no way I’m wallowing in the mud down there, but others are willing to go and plant crops.”
25 Hemetite.“Seven other freaks have found their way to our home and wish to stay. Some may be useful.”
3 Galena.“The farm is producing plump helmets now. Thank god. I almost died of thirst when we ran out of booze.”
15 Sandstone.“More migrants. Seven once more. Three sevens, it must be a sign.”
“The halls are beginning to feel… cluttered. I do not know how many more times I can stand that grimy clothier brushing up against me.”
22 Sandstone.
“We’ve been pumping out obsidian crafts for some time now in anticipation of trade. The figurines Ducim creates are extraordinary. Today marked his first masterwork. The detail on this thing is amazing. I’m sure such work must tax him greatly.”
24 Sandstone.“Busy month. Morul the wood burner was the first of us to snap. He hijacked the forge, grabbed some iron, and ran around drawing something no one can make out. He looks pained. He scribbles franticly, tracing the lines again and again. His marks look more and more like an open black maw waiting to consume me.”
3rd Timber.“No one is sure, but some think Morul’s drawings are stacks of cloth. I thought so too, but he merely flings away the cloth we show him. He has not slept or eaten since his breakdown. I do not have much hope for him.”
25 Moonstone.“Morul lost whatever shred of sanity he had left today. Breaking a months-long silence he began stumbling around muttering gibberish. I felt sorry for him until I saw him throwing his filthy clothes around the dining hall. Such a mess. There’s no way I’m touching his refuse, and for some reason I can’t convince the others to either. Magma may be the only realistic solution to Morul’s sock problem.”
10 Obsidian.“I feel a little… hazy. The last thing I remember it was the middle of Opal. I was staring at Morul’s socks and fingering my pick as the rage welled up inside me. I felt myself smile as something deep inside me
moved.”
“Waking up on the floor near the mason shop I hurt. I was confused about how I got up several flights of stairs without remembering it. I was ravenous, dying of thirst, and my hands were covered with cuts and scrapes. My fingernails were filthy. Those surrounding looked at me but wouldn’t meet my gaze. I asked how long I’d been out. ‘Months,’ one said.”
“I gazed to my left and saw a thing more beautiful possible. It was a hatch cover. A threshold barrier to keep the chaotic world at bay. Gleaming obsidian with exquisite silk decorations. ‘Stalrakas’ came unbidden to my lips. ‘It means ‘busted stranger.’ There could be no more auspicious name.”
“I refused the others’ help as I rose to my feet. Taking my creation gently in my hands I went to my burrow, removed the roughshod obsidian hatch cover that was there, and replaced it with Stalrakas. Now I could abide in my burrow truly protected from the world. This space is small, but it is a perfect haven. When I return here the chaos and confusion melt away as I pass Stalrakas. Here I am at peace.”
22 Obsidian.“The happenings in the fort barely penetrate into my burrow now. Ducim’s hold on reality loosened a bit as news circulated of thieves making off with two of his prized masterwork crafts. Hopefully their loss is not enough to send him over the edge like Morul. Morul. A smile flashed across my face as I recalled his death a few days ago. He finally fell from lack of alcohol. He deserved much worse. His socks still mock me, defying reason as they refuse to be moved from the dining hall.”
“It must be something with that name. This is the second Morul to mar one of my creations. I must address the Morul problem preemptively the next time I find one.”
“As the year draws to a close I consider what we’ve accomplished. Much work remains. We have barely plumbed the depths of this place. At three stories tall the tower does not even scratch the sky. There is no permanent home for our workshops, no permanent source of fresh water, and no reasonable way to protect ourselves. But what we do have is beautiful. It shines with the unspoken promise of what this fortress will become. It is a start.”
The
save. The
map.
Lolghurt: You're up, knock 'em dead. Heh. Can you dwarf Arembarger and enosX?
Arembarger: You're on the list! Glad we could hook you. Lolghurt will have to name your dwarf for you.
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Topic: Whiskeybridle: An OCD Succession Fortress, so crazy it just might work! (Read 17411 times)