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[varnish]

((Dang, forgot about yours. He'll be in the next update! Along with one or two others that I missed.))

[neo1096]

Just what I always wanted to be: a bureaucrat.

[notenome]

*crying* Oceanbriiiiiidge!!!

[varnish]

I'ma try to get this going again. Update soon, etc.

[DeepBlue]

I'ma try to get this going again. Update soon, etc.

I was about to lose hope you'd ever return

[neotemplar]

I would like to request a dwarf.

Gender does not matter
Name: Neotemplar
Job: Military
Weapon: Pick

Narrative basis:wants to mine foes for their metal equipment. 

[varnish]

((Restarting is harder than I expected, mainly because I forgot what happened in the fort, and what I'd been planning. Slowly getting back on track.))

From the Memoirs of Wilberforce Amber Ropenourished

When last I wrote, dear readers, we had breached the caverns, and the dwarf Argel had gone missing. The first was rather a cause for celebration, but the second has turned to be full of... consequence, if that's the word I'm searching for. Consequential.

The report comes to me from Notenome, one of the dwarfs who has been wrangling for the position of Chief Bridge Architect.



Counselor, not being a fool, drafted several citizens into his little search party, Not being included in the bunch. N. tells me that they did a fairly thorough search of the grounds, then moved out beyond the walls. Counselor no doubt felt he would be fairly safe, as he was fully armored and armed with a pick that was no slouch at slaying the undead.

Well, I don't want to spend all my time leading into what is no doubt obvious to all of you. They found Argel, mangled quite horribly, dead, but not at peace.



The fight that ensued was brief. Argel's corpse slew Counselor and another of the rescue team.
 


Notenome took the far-sighted view that two fresh bodies would soon mean two new zombies, and fled the scene. He's back up on the bridge now, arguing with Slime over something architectural.

Another loss, then, for all of us. Counselor helped found New Oceanbridge, and I've got a feeling that his death is going to lead to trouble. Put it down to intuition, and the fact that there's a fortress-wide meeting called, held today.

There may even be a committee.
........................

Next: Meetings! Woo!

[Ishar]

Yay!
Footnote: Do I have a dwarf currently? There were much of them dying, I lost count a while ago.

[Mjattie]

I would like Mr. Anderson to be reincarnated. As a marksdwarf. Something tells me he won't be living again for very long.

On a rotten, torn piece of paper reads...

"I don't know what happened. Oceanbridge is in utter chaos, there's no one but unrecognisable corpses of the dwarves. I woke up in what seems to be the old magma forges, things are hard for me to remember, everything just seems like a blur. I am hearing laughter of goblins, and much, much worse things above. I think... I think I died. I feel horrible right now, I remember just standing half-concious at a wall for days on end, I am still a bit detatched. My body doesn't look at all the same. It's covered with scars and burns, they look like they were fatal, yet I have no wounds.

There is a crossbow and a quiver of bolts nearby. I don't know how to fight, but I have memories of many fights, I don't know if those will help or not. I'm going to try to reach the surface and get out of here."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Mr. Anderson snuck up to the outer wall, shooting some of the goblins in the back of the head with the crossbow. They were surprisingly easy to hit from point blank. Then, at the outer walls, the gate was forced open, and a single goblin spear-man was standing there. He had been spotted!

Mr. Anderson shot a bolt at his incoming attacker, but it missed. By quite alot, actually. He didn't have enough time to load another bolt, so he hefted the crossbow by the stock, and struck at the goblin. It was deflected, and the goblin counterstrike d, grazing Mr. Anderson's left shoulder. Hitting again, Mr. Anderson sunk the pointed metal side of the bow into the goblins upper body, sliding through his ribs. The goblin jumped back, surprised at the pain, and slightly winded. It was a good hit, but not fatal. Mr. Anderson didn't give the goblin time to react though. Bashing and stabbing, all the goblin could do was dodge, until he saw an opening. He stabbed Mr. Anderson right through the hand with the spear. Gasping in pain, Mr. Anderson grabbed a bolt from the quiver, and jabbed the bolt through the goblin's heart. The goblin slumped over, spear still embedded in his hand, and Mr. Anderson soon joined him, passing out from the pain.

It was night when he awoke, thrown in a pile of corpses outside of the wall. The goblins must have thought he died. He looked at his hand. The spear was ripped out, leaving a rather nasty hole, that was clotted up, and surprisingly not infected. Regaining his senses, he ran far away from the fortress, using the bridge as far as it went, jumping off it, and swimming to the other side of the ocean. What happened? Mr. Anderson is determined to find the answer to that question.

[varnish]

((He shall return, then. It might take a few days, though. Got a lot to work through.))


The Meeting:

The dining hall was already packed by the time Wilberforce arrived, and buzzing with conversation.  It was the work of several moments, and some well-placed elbows, before he fought his way through the crush and found a seat.

"A lot of people here, Neo! I had no idea people love meetings so much. I mean, I like a good meeting, but this is rather ridiculous."

"I think everyone's down here because there's another skeletal falcon attack going on."

"Ah, that might also explain it." He frowned as water began dripping from the ceiling onto his head. "I hope this meeting involved fixing the damn roof. It would be embarrassing for us all to be drowned before the undead can get to us."

Neo held a hand up. "I think something's about to start. Shut up for a minute."

The dwarf who took the floor was, to Wilberforce's general surprise, Goldhammer. The stout miner looked nervous as he climbed up on one of the granite tables, but his voice rang out with confidence when he began to speak. "Bayar is a complete incompetent!" It was more of a shout than anything else, and the buzz of conversation in the room died out.

Goldhammer nodded. "Got your attention, did I? Good! As you all know, I am Goldhammer. I have made it my task to hunt down witchcraft and wrongdoing in this fortress, as well as build lots of kilns. The kilns are important, and we haven't built any, and that's just infuriating..." He seemed to realize he was losing his subject. "But as for Bayar! Her failures have become too much for me to ignore, and for a whole lot of us to ignore.  There's only one thing to do about that!"

"Well, here's a tradition that hasn't died out," Wilberforce whispered to Neo. "No doubt he's going to call for an election, get himself in power and so on. The same thing happened to me, if you remember."

Neo nodded. "I think I was there when that happened. One of me, anyway. Hold on... was that before or after the first time I died?"

This time Wilberforce shushed Neo, as Goldhammer continued. "We must find a new leader..." Wilberforce nodded to himself. "And Bayar must be thrown to the undead that she can't defend us from! Let her die like all the soldiers who have died!"

This statement caused an uproar, but not as much of one as Wilberforce expected. The militia members (the ones still alive at any rate) were very angry, that was certain. Haika was also one of the loudest voices raised in protest. "You can't just do that! She's our leader! She's out there fighting off giant birds right now! That's got to be worth something!"

"She also got Counselor killed!"

Goldhammer didn't let the shouting keep him silent. "Throw her into the wilds or the depths at least, that's just the way it has to be. When has any failed leader been allowed to stay and make further trouble? If Bayar is worthy, if she's free from the curse over this land, maybe she'll survive."

"What the hell does that even mean!"

Wilberforce watched as the argument went on, and on. He couldn't do much else, he realized. To most of the other dwarfs here, he was still just one more peasant. The only thing he could do was watch.

...............................

From the Memoirs of Wilberforce Amber Ropenourished:

And what an argument it was, dear readers! To my surprise, Goldhammer had the support of most of the masons. Since this fortress is dedicated to building a large bridge, primarily from stone, that's quite a few people! So, a vote was called for, to be held that very day. Things move quickly here, at least in regards to power plays.

The vote was held, but the results are... well, if Goldhammer wanted to be placed in charge himself, the fellow is very disappointed right now. The dwarf who is now mayor is probably disappointed as well, as it's our old friend Remalle.



Well, well, well.

As for poor Bayar, I'm not sure what will happen. That's in Remalle's hands now, I suppose.

...........................

Next: Humans, Mandates, Etc.

((One decent sized post for one tiny event. Man. I can't even tell if the post makes sense.))

[Remalle]

Ha!  I've survived the fall of this fortress twice already, let's see if I can prevent it happening again on my watch.

I demand two golden statues of myself flanking the fortress's main entrance!

[Mjattie]

((Well, I am going to keep doing journal entries of Anderson wandering around the shattered world, and try to explain better how Mr. Anderson is alive in his dead body.))

There is a small, poorly written animal hide book that reads:
Mr. Anderson's log, Entry 1
I really don't know if anything that isn't a monster is left. There are creatures of horror - they look dead, but they still walk. I even saw one with his head split open and legs cut off, but it was still absently dragging itself along, like nothing was wrong. It's been a few days since I escaped from Oceanbridge, and perhaps I would have been better off there. Actually no, I'd be dead by then if I had. I haven't slept more than a hour in the past three days, the ash I am breathing makes it almost impossible to. What grass that isn't coated in ash is brown and diseased, and there are dozens of smoke clouds in the horizon. I'm afraid of moving inland, so i'll stick to the shore. My right hands been healing, quite quickly for a wound it's size, but writing with my left hand is harder than it seems. I need to find a coastal town and get some gear, and hopefully a boat. Something tells me that the islands will be safer than the main continent. Let's just hope that my bolts last until then.

[varnish]

Sounds good.

So, before the next update, I'm going to re-read the entire thread. It's been a while since I've done that. In fact, I'm not sure if I ever have.

So this might take a bit! I also plan to count just how many different versions of Derm, Ishar, and the rest there have been.

Update (hopefully) soon.

[neo1096]

I like the way this is going, and the way you've set up my dwarf's personality and interactions is perfect. Keep up the good work, varnish.

[varnish]

((Still rereading. Man, I'd forgotten half the things that happened. Also, I once said this:

Interesting to know what will happen if I abandon. Fortunately, I don't intend to do that any time soon.

Ha.))


From the Memoirs of Wilberforce Amber Ropenourished:

As I said before, Remalle has been elected mayor. Bayar, however is still among us! I put the question to Goldhammer, and it seems that the tradition of banishing a failed leader is, well, a tradition in these more brutal times. Remalle, having been present in the world for the past centuries no doubt knows about it, but he hasn't taken steps to banish her yet. He was a fairly decent dwarf when I knew him last, perhaps that still holds true. Who knows what Goldhammer intends to do, though.

I haven't had a chance to talk to him about any of this yet, but his first official act was to mandate the construction of one splint. Fair enough.



The next order was to construct to gold statues of himself. That's not something I could have imagined the Remalle of old doing, but he knows his own mind, as they say.

We were all afforded a distraction from the political upheaval when one of the new miners gained the characteristic glow about his eyes and went for a shop.



He emerged with this.



It'll be an interesting trinket to show to the human merchants who have arrived, assuming they survive long enough to reach the gate. That is, of course, quite a big assumption to make.

.........................

Next: Merchants!

((I like the log so far, Mjattie.))