((I hate to do this, as most everyone said fight on, but I did fight on. And everyone is either dead, mad or about to become one or the other. So I pulled the plug. But it's not over. We will come back. I have a plan.))
The battered remains of the army of Oceanbridge met in the crypt, these days. Bayar was still alive, though he had a broken arm from a confrontation with a berserk cook, and Cilob, Heavy Weapons Guy, and Balnash.
Guy was talking. “We just got to hold on for a bit longer. There’s bound to be some migrants comin’ soon. We’ll keep them safe, keep ‘em away from the mad ones. Then we’ll rebuild.”
Cilob looked worried, even more so than she had for a while. “I’m just not sure. We haven’t had migrants for over a year. Even with all the sieges, that seems strange. Maybe-“
She was interrupted as Alkhemia, the mason, broke down the door to the outer crypt. He was panting heavily, his eyes glazed over and drool dripping through his beard. And he had, significantly, a large granite stone gripped in his hand.
“Right!” Heavy Weapons Guy roared. “This fellow is mine!” He brought up his crossbow, but Alkhemia, blind with madness and rage, batted it aside without breaking stride, and with his other fist knocked Guy to the ground.
Cilob could only watch in horror as Alkhemia then brought the rock down on Guy’s head, crushing his skull and killing him instantly. Then the insane mason turned on her.
She might not have survived if Balnash hadn’t regained some of his wits, and run Alkhemia through with his bronze spear.
The three of them looked over the carnage. Cilob was shaking, and she covered Guy’s body with a piece of cloth. The best she could do now. They had long since run out of coffins. She shook her head. “He was a damn good soldier, you know? For all that he was odd, he was one of the best.
Two more dead, and it was only midsummer.
...........................................................
More died as summer wore on. Ten in the early summer, seven in Mid-Summer, and thirteen as the season drew to a close.
No one seemed immune. Some were calling it a curse, whether from Rakust or some other offended god didn't seem to matter.
..............................................
Lokum Tells a Story, of Sorts:
Out of the seven who had founded Oceanbridge, only four were still alive and still somewhat in control of themselves. Aban, Gar, Nix, and Karakzon were meeting for what Aban suspected might be the last time. In unspoken agreement, they had got together in the old main hall, and from there tracked down the (now former) mayor, Lokum Gemkiss. If he was still alive. He certainly wasn't sane anymore.
The once dapper and smiling dwarf was now a babbling wreck, curled up in a corner of one of the furnace rooms. But after Gar applied a few “convincing arguments” to the man’s chest, they managed to get... something resembling answers.
“It... it wasn’t my fault, you know. I was just doing what... what was best for everyone. The queen, she hasn’t been seen in three years, and no one has heard anything from any.... anywhere at all! There aren’t any left, I think.”
“Any what?” Gar shouted, before Aban told him to be quiet. Lokum hardly noticed.
“Something happened, I know. I thought... if everyone was distracted, they wouldn’t find out, they wouldn’t think that everything had gone wrong... Wouldn‘t wonder why there were no migrants. Just a little distraction, after all, no one really cares about the gods that much! But that damn Cog talked to a merchant... That’s what went wrong. That’s where it must have all gone wrong. I don't know if there's anyone left, anyone at all. But I couldn't let it get out or... everything might have fallen apart. Everything fell apart.” He whimpered, and then curled up on the floor, and went silent.
Gar stared at the sad remains of the former mayor for a minute, then turned to Aban. "That was useless. The babblings of a maniac, I'd say."
Aban nodded. "Well, he
was mad, I think. But he might have told us something. Now it's just a matter of what we're going to do about it."
................................................................
From the Journals of Aban BrothertreatiesWell, journal, this might be the last time I write anything here. Or write anything at all, really. That’s cheerful, isn’t it! Well, so is madness.
The mayor revealed his plan to me, shortly before he went mad. (Cheerful!) Five dwarfs, with Bayar as a leader were locked into a room with food and booze. The idea is that they might survive, split off from the rest of us. Now, I’d say that I’m a tad bit upset about being stuck out here as “the rest”, but the mayor stayed out too. One point to his credit.
But it didn’t work. The ones we put it there succumbed to the same madness that killed Turk and Person. That leaves five or so of us still sane.
It’s summer now. The elves left, and the ape-men are gone as well. This is probably the only chance we’ll get.
And that’s it, really. Gar, the children, (at least, the ones I can find) and the others who have managed to hold onto their sanity are leaving. We’ll take our luck out there on Nightmare Island, which really has turned out to be an appropriate name. If we can, we’ll make for the mountainhomes, and find out if what that damned idiot Lokum told us is really true. At least, I will. Not sure if any of the others are going to follow me.
And I’m leaving this book here. If we don’t make it, at least there will be some record of what happened here at Oceanbridge.
I hope there’s still a home to go back to.
End of Part One
((As I said, I only did this because I think there's no choice. I do plan to reclaim. I'm sorry if this is disappointing.))
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Topic: Oceanbridge - A Fortress Defense Community Fort: Reclaimed, Again! (And Again) (Read 183182 times)