Deep beneath the surface of the earth, Lanternlands the Fire Imp was having the time of his life. The current of magma he swam in was moving rapidly through an open underground cavern he'd never before seen, and he laughed gleefully as the molten rock carried him along the surface. Suddenly the magma fell off a sharp bank, and he went along with it, delighted at the sudden increase in velocity, especially the way it made his tummy feel.
"Weeeee!" he squealed, and as he fell into the eerily glowing pit, his cry slowly faded, and soon vanished.
* * *
It was the first of Slate. Sethrist had been in the Danger Room most of the previous month (after some last-minute business with the other Chiefs of Staff), and was due to emerge from the Danger Room any day now. Kzel wanted to be the first person to see him once he did. He waited outside with the spear he'd made, listening to the mechanical sounds of the training spears as they thumped back and forth.
The sound suddenly stopped. A few moments went by, and the door opened. After a few moments, Sethrist limped into the hallway, spear in hand. His beard was crusted with old blood, the clothes he had donned for training had fallen to wet rags. His month in the Room had made him gaunt to the point of being skeletal, and Kzel found it unnerving to look at him. There was a far-off look in his eyes, as though the force behind them had grown vaguer, more distant.
"Seth!" Kzel called out. "How do you feel?" He asked, as much out of discourse as of concern.
"Thirsty," said Sethrist. "Tired." He looked around the hallway, as if unsure where they were. "What day is it?" he asked.
"It's the first of Slate," Kzel said. "Didn't you know?"
"I had guessed. It's hard to keep track of the days in there. I was marking the walls whenever I slept."
Kzel looked surprised. "You slept in there?"
"Sure. There's a spot on the floor where the spears won't hit you if you position yourself properly. It took me a while to find, though." He rubbed his right shoulder and winced. "Now, please excuse me, but I..."
"Actually, there's something I wanted to discuss," Kzel pressed. "If I could accompany you for that drink, perhaps?
Sethrist nodded, leaning on his weapon to keep steady, and said, "Lead the way." The Dining Hall was quiet and mostly unoccupied when they arrived, early in the morning as it was. Most people here preferred their breakfast booze in the privacy of their own bedrooms.
"Yes, adamantine," the Weaponsmith was saying. "Given the state of events, I don't think we should wait any longer."
Sethrist was impressed by the spear Kzel offered to him: remarkably well-made, moreso than any he had personally seen, much less held. Torchlight danced across the intricate folds of metal. Seashells dangled from the head of it, twined with what look like steel wire.
"You made this?" he said to the Weaponsmith.
"Indeed," Kzel nodded. "I think it's my finest work yet. The new foundry's been most helpful, with magma you get a hotter forge with lower pressure far more quickly than you would with coal."
"Your skill has really improved," said Sethrist. Kzel held his breath as he turned the spear over and over, tested the balance, and took a few practice swings toward an empty corner of the room. His own face appeared across the tip, reflected in the polished gleam of the steel. Staring back at him was a bruised, sunken face with a messy, untamed beard.
I don't see myself, he thought.
Kzel cleared his throat, and spoke formally. "Sir, our lack of quality equipment troubles me. Our stockpiled adamantine has grown nearly tenfold, and if we start using it now, we might be able to save lives." There, he had done it, said what had to be said without saying the name.
Sethrist rubbed his chin. He pointed at the old iron spear he had taken into the Danger Room, which lay across the table. "That was Crumby's old spear," he said, saying the name. A silence of awkwardness, then: "All right. As of today, you and the other Chiefs shall have access to truemetal. I'll make a note in the log."
(Persuasion Check: Succeeds <guaranteed>)"Fantastic!" Kzel clapped his hands as he stood up. "I'll get started immediately. You won't regret this."
Always a worry when people say that, Sethrist thought. But the spear was a masterpiece; therein lay the promise of more, and more they would need.
(Rule Change: Chiefs of Staff may make authorized use of adamantine.)* * *
There, thought Duck, as he set the pot down. His quarters now boasted enough food to last several lifetimes, and while the house still wasn't all that great, this was, at least, an improvement.
There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" Duck called. Rimtar, the work manager, came into the room. "Hello, Duck," she said, sounding tired. "Have a moment?"
"Rimtar! Of course, please make yourself comfortable, but remember, that's
Guildmaster Duck." A chair was pulled out, which Rimtar accepted. "What brings you by?"
"Acutally, it's about the new Guildhall," Rimtar smiled. She'd grown accustomed to Duck long ago.
"Ah, yes. Has construction begun?" The Guildmaster rummaged through his pantry and retrieved a jug of wine.
"Yes, the foundation is mostly in place," the manager said (Duck grinned), "but I'm actually just coming from a meeting with Chief Broccoli. I understand there's been a dispute?"
"There is no dispute," said Duck. The grin flew from his face as if a mallet had smacked it. "He accosted me with absurd demands, you should have seen it. I've declined to indulge him, and that's the end of it." He sat down across from his guest, bearing a flagon of wine.
"I'm afraid not," Rimtar said. "The miners have already dug out the floor space for the sub-basement."
"That's okay. We can use the space to store pipes and corkscrews."
"As for his demands, I've seen his proposals, and they're none too outlandish, aside from the office, which his position nonetheless entitles him. I want you to try and have another talk with him and see if you can't work it out."
"Work it out?"
Rimtar folded her hands. "You and Broccoli are both heads of staff, and as such you need to be able to work together, getting along or not. You and I may be friends, but that's precisely why I can't get any more involved in this on an official level. You have to settle this yourselves. I need to maintain a professional detachment, and so do you. It's part of being in charge."
Duck frowned. "I don't very well see the point, but I'll think about it," he said. "As long as he remembers who the
Head of the Carpenter's Guild is, I suspect I could be persuaded to tolerate his arrogance for short intervals."
Rimtar opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it, and instead, simply asked for a glass of the wine.
* * *
Impersonat was washing down a buffalo biscuit in her bedroom when she heard the Crier coursing through the hallways, screaming "Sound the alarm! The goblins are upon us!"
"You are the alarm!" someone yelled back.
"Thist," Impersonat swore. She gathered her battle gear fast as she could, swearing again when she tripped over her dog. Then she was out the door, up the stair, and into the wild outdoors. SalmonGod was waiting by the west inner gate with two of the other archers, and she ran up to them, her mail leggings clinking like pocketed coins with every step, and saluted the Captain. "Got here... fast as I could," she said, exhausted of breath.
"Good dwarf," SalmonGod said. He explained the situation: "We spotted a human caravan being chased by greenskins. They're headed here for safety, and we've got to give it to them. We have one line of traps already breached, and the Smasher isn't completed yet, so it's all resting on us."
After receiving her station assignments, Impersonat was handed a stack of bone-tipped bolts. "Make them count," SalmonGod said, looking her in the eye. Impersonat gulped and nodded. She had only last week worked up the nerve to shoot at the local wildlife, and this was far different a danger today.
Into the watchtower she went, and there she sat, her crossbow propped against the turrets, waiting for the enemy. She didn't seem to be thinking anymore; her being had fallen into a practiced routine over which she had little control, the repetition and the fervor of all those drills having finally manifested as a possessing spirit, driven to keep her alive.
Soon, they came into view: Far north of the fortress, the humans hurried past the edge of the wood. With the new outer wall, they would have to travel all the way around to the southern entrance, something they probably weren't expecting.
Something else caught her eye. Another group of goblins had crept from the trees to the west across the river. One of them carried a lifeless, bearded head in its mouth. They encircled something on the ground, a bleeding mass that might have once been a dwarf's body.
Impersonat felt pale. "Captain!" she shouted down to the courtyard. "There's more of them!"
* * *
"Stick together!" Derm yelled. "Goblins fight in loose formation! You get surrounded, fight back-to-back in groups of three!" He and his troops marched through the courtyard. They were much better armed than a month ago, but thanks to Sethrist's self-indulgent use of the training facilities, most of these dwarves hadn't yet bested the Danger Room. This battle would be a test of their will to live.
"Let's hope this armor's as good as it looks," Catten said.
"The Lanterns of Hail are upon you!" SalmonGod screamed. From the fore of the squad, he leapt into the southwest watchtower with dumbfounding agility for such a muscular frame.
"Are they alive, Captain?" Derm called up to him.
SalmonGod stared. "They're dead, sir. Both of them."
On Derm's order, the Walled Creeds headed out, the steel of them glistening by the light of the sun. They soon encountered the goblins, who came running at them from all sides of the wood.
Chaos unfolded, and soon the militia was split into two main groups. Close to the riverbank, Derm and four others quickly dispatched two attackers, and surrounded a third, a dark-skinned brute that lashed at them with a tarnished silver chain whip. While Derm advanced, Catten came up from behind grabbed onto the goblin. Thrown to the floor, the swordsdwarf managed to chop away the foot of the invader, who, before falling over, was cleaved in half by one powerful swing of Fikod's axe. Their shiny new armor was tremendously stained.
Their foes dispatched, they charged south to where Tholtig and two recruits held their own in pitched battle against a large group. Before Derm and the rest could arrive, Tholtig had slain one of them and driven the rest off. The surviving terrified goblins fled into the woods and disappeared beyond the maze of trees.
The day was won, and with only a few minor injuries, not a single soldier had died. Derm felt proud of his dwarves, not some secret thing he had held in embarrassment for a time, but now worn as a badge across his smiling face. Still, he realized, it would not bring back those civilians who'd been caught outside at the wrong time. No, only leaving their corpses to rot forgotten in the woods would do that.
He signaled the "all-clear" to Captain SalmonGod, who hopped down from his post. As the soldiers passed through the front gates, a number of farmers rushed outside to tend to the dead and gather their belongings. Another year, another goblin attack -- and another two fresh graves -- though for what it counted, this time they'd taught the goblins a lesson, and next year, they would surely come with greater numbers.
* * *
Deeper than did ever step a living mortal of their world gathered worm-shaped fiends around a bald hill, covered in their slime, a thing beyond a single word for foulness.
The worms were purring, and the purring became a rumble, the rumble became a roar. A great and feathery form was rising from the abyss, worm-shaped and winged and towering over those calling it, surrounded by a chitinous shell that cast an oblong shadow over the lesser worms through the crimson light of the pit. A blade jutted from the tail, from which dripped a loathsome malevolence. The roar died down, the rumbling stopped. The beast spread its wings and screamed.
-----
Coming here might have been a mistake. First they drafted you, a talented Wax Worker, when they haven't a single beehive set up yet, then they threw you into combat a couple of months into your training! And to top it all off, you got smashed up pretty well in said combat. At least the food around here is good.
You're determined not to let this happen again. You've made up your mind: You're going to enter the Danger Room. You're still young enough for some spring in your step. There's just one thing, and that's that you'll need permission to use the Room. You could join the military, but that would mean following orders and getting involved in every little skirmish that pops up nearby. Alternatively, you could ask one of the nobles for special permission. You could always go in and use it without permission, but that's asking for trouble. There are surely other options, it's just a matter of finding them out.-----
A -Notice- has been posted in the Dining Hall for all to see. Copies were sent to the Mountainhomes for proliferation."Now Seeking Volunteers for the Following Positions: Captain of the Guard,
Dungeon Master, Scribe, Inventor, Priest/Priestess, Philosopher, Alchemist, Occultist, Nurse, Undertaker, Counselor."
(OOC: My thanks to you all for participating so far. This is off to a great start!
About the safe-to-walk magma, it's actually a "Magma Flow" tile, which I thought meant a tile that continually spawns magma. In this case, the magma is, at the very least, not spawning in the right direction. I like to think it's a substance that resembles magma enough to be called that by dwarves. There's a nice fiery effect that's quite nice to look at.
I uploaded an early save file of the site
here, starting from right when the hole was uncovered. In that file the demons haven't appeared yet, and they don't seem to do so until you go too near the hole, as the Prologue illustrates. I will upload an updated save of the fort, but it would spoil a great deal of the story if I did so now.
In light of recent events, out of respect for the people of Japan, the thread's title is altered for now. This will last for two weeks. I apologize for any resulting confusion.
More to come tomorrow.)
edits to prose
Author
Topic: Quakemortal: Perdition's Gate (Community Fort, Spoilers) (Read 53892 times)