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I have a fort with a purpose: its purpose is to export booze, and that is the only thing it exports. It cannot make goods other than mugs, also. It's an ongoing challenge, and I've had to reclaim it multiple times, but a fort is an effort. Here's a sonnet I wrote for the first part of what I hope will be an ongoing thing.
The Beginning of the Black Cat Brewery.
Here's the story of a home in the shade:
Seven hard dwarves, and a single black cat,
Who loved to make drink and hated combat,
Had struck the earth but with shovel and spade.
Did they know of the foundations they laid?
Did they not know that which they just begat?
Maybe, that stink was what they had mused at.
And they never thought that death needs a blade,
But aye, they had sought a life clean and new,
And it's what they got, though painful, it seemed.
No matter how painful, they wouldn't lose.
Strawberry wine, ale, rum, and sewer brew:
The drinks they made were the life they had dreamed,
And in the end, they always had more booze.
It sounds a bit rough to me, but I've seen worse, and all the syllables match up and it rhymes right, and the ninth line is a turn. So yeah.
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Should I do the rest of the storty in a collection of self contained sonnets (so that each makes sense on its own), or in iambic quatrains using an ABBACDDC scheme (so that the sonnet is but an openning to the entire poem, and the entire poem is something like a short epic)? Should I continue at all?
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Part 1: The Foundation; Thistun and Etur's Blade
The tale which I shall tell to you
Began with those few dwarves of Shrak,
A mountain hall that fell to black,
Those who just knew how to make brew.
The skills they had were all but rust.
Two held some secrets from them, though,
They said "We will to work below,"
"You'll send the crops above, we trust"
The five above began their work
And soon forgot the two down deep
Who never knew the joy of sleep
True warriors, they would never shirk
Because above receieved no field,
They dug down too, to plant more seed.
Thus they'd never have true need
For which below had said would yield.
Below, again, Etur and Äs,
Alone, with just the lack of light,
Trained until they would need to fight.
And they were sad, I do confess.
Yet they, Etur and Äs, did train
And soon were mighty like the stone.
Together they were all alone,
In time eachother they would feign.
Above the five were soon much more
The migrants came to seek success
And thus, the Black Cat saw progress.
To all, they bared an open door.
When a caravan came from Shrak
The Brewery was much surprised
And soon they doubled in their size.
So, every year that dray came back.
Etur and Äs were far below.
They took the strongest from above
To train for when push comes to shove.
Thus, they also began to grow.
But not all was well with the two:
They disagreed on all subjects.
Their situation was complex;
One day it all was simply through.
Etur began to search and find
Äs with dames, and so they fought
Before he died, Äs got one shot
Which struck both eyes: Etur was blind.
And so old Etur was upset:
His only friend and sight were gone,
But dreams of both would carry on.
Then came that one first deadly threat.
All the people fled and ran
The forgotten beast Ume had come
Like the beating of a drum
But Etur had a secret plan...
I'm done for now. I'll write up some more later.
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Etur started going stark mad
As Ume ravaged the weak Black Cat
But the others had not just sat
They fought and won, or thought they had.
Their secret was shown to all eyes
While Etur worked furiously
The warriors'd won, curiously
Today was not the Cat's demise.
The warriors all were deamed as saints.
Then old Etur finished his dream.
That sword of solid gold did gleam,
But death of the Black Cat it paints.
The people would gather around.
To see demise in sharpened gold.
Etur would not see it unfold,
They looked, but he was never found.
Despite it being there so clear.
None could understand the sword,
Until an endless goblin horde
Stopped by to drink, inspire fear.
They were thousands, clad in full steel.
The warriors of the Cat were nine,
"We'll kill you all, in hell you'll dine,
We'll never fall, we'll never kneel!"
The paladins fought with glory,
But one by one they had to fall,
Or so thought the horde, if at all.
Here is no end for a story.
The warriors grinned, soaked with blood
They had victory, at a cost.
Some civillians had been lost,
But no soldier laid in the mud.
Under their nose an evil came
With which arrived our guardian,
The Black Cat's to-be champion.
The one who saved the land from flame.
The evil was but a farmer,
Or something along that same line.
His lack of hunger was a sign:
He was found out, that death charmer.
By then it was too late to hide.
Etur's rotting corpse had risen
The Cat turned into a prison
As he ran and killed all inside.
The warriors, who needed their rest,
Tried to take their leader back down.
He crushed them with a wooden crown.
And so, the Cat had not much left.
Our hero was but a brewer
He had not ever fought or killed.
He had only ever distilled.
Yet the Cat became still fewer.
The Black Cat Brewery presumed
The goldin sword displayed the war,
And not the dead who were in store.
Those who lived thought they were doomed.
But then, Thistun, our hero said:
"No dwarf shall yet threaten this place!
You coward! You rat! Show your face!
Prepare your grave, for you are dead!"
Thistun picked up the golden blade,
And cut through the necromancer.
To that, the evil had to answer:
"It's not so easy I'm afraid!"
Thus dead began to rise again,
The corpses stood and stared at him,
The situation looked quite grim.
The necromancer guffawed, and then,
Undead, now, Ume, pushed through the crowd,
But Thistun knew just what to do:
He pulled out Etur's blade and threw.
It lodged in Ume, who lurched and cowed.
He took his fist to his foe's face.
He punched and hit and jabbed and slammed.
"Depart from here! Go die! Be damned!
You are but dwarven kind's disgrace!"
There were so few dwarves left alive.
Thistun, and friends, would always stand
And build back up, hand in hand.
Even when they were only five.
And thus the Black Cat could live on,
though more terrors would come to pass,
And more would yet die, and alas,
Today was but a dream forgone.
When they were done all they could think,
Was what they were going to do
Now that the Cat was built anew.
You know what they wanted? A drink.
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Why am I the only person in this topic? I thought more people would have responded to something like this.
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Great work!
I imagine that to be a song of traveling dwarven bard at some frontier fortress.
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Part 2: The Stills, The Freeze
Here we join the Brewery again. By now, Thistun is long dead, though the story well known throughout the Black Cat. I'll go back and recount Thistun's sons and daughter, but I thought this reclaim was by far the most histerical. I'm switching up the rhyming scheme and meter. ABBA is good and all, but
I do believe it's time once more
To talk about where booze was sold,
So far away from the silly war.
It would, and did, get fiercly cold.
What else would one expect up north?
They said it kept away the mold.
But the Cat needed to set forth
Four tanks of water, four huge stills.
It would improve the Black Cat's worth.
Each tank was burried in the hills.
Each had a flood gate for repaire.
Each tank had a dwarf who just fills.
Zaneg, the mayor, on her chair
Was pleased with progress, though t'was slow.
A good leader, so kind, so fair.
But at the time they did not know
A goblin front had come to drink
Winter, too, showed, that clever foe.
That which they had wanted to think
Was safe was not, the gates were broke.
The Cat became a kitchen sink
The water washed the dwarven folk
The few goblins ran, like a rat
They found it funny, like a joke.
The dwarves, sadly, did not know that
The winter was colder than thought
Soon all frozen, was the Black Cat...
I'm done for now. Second part later. Part two might be shorter than other parts, especially shorter than part three (which is pretty long). This rhyming scheme is painfully hard. I wont quit it until the next part, but jesus rollerskating christ. It's not easy. I had to rhyme North with worth. Bagh
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Makes me confused how few posts this gets.
..But not all dwarves were ice; they fought.
They found the warmest place they could.
They killed their pets: no fish were caught.
They burned their bodies, no more wood.
Zaneg was trapped inside the tomb
Where a certain gold statue stood.
A bust of Thistun slaying doom,
She prayed for his sword to guide her.
She sought a place light would consume.
And then her eyes opened wider,
She took a pick and swung through walls.
The warrior's spirit had grown inside her.
She broke through all the icy halls
And put new gates on every tank.
Then, Zaneg waited til ice thaws.
When she saw, though, her heart sank.
The dwarven folk were all but white.
Her pale face went yet more blank.
The Cat was such a greusome sight.
A hundred corpses, frozen hard.
Zaneg cried from the intense fright.
There were more alive: one cold guard,
A couple brewers made it, too,
And a certain wandering bard.
She knew not if others held through
But then she remembered the spire
After hearing a whispered clue.
A scream came from somewhere higher
She knew, now, that not all were dead
But the situation looked quite dire.
She swung her way through doors of lead
All locked, although she did get past.
Then, she found an iron axe head.
Zaneg heard a voice at long last.
"No one will know that you were killed."
From through the wall, a mad outcast.
When she heard it, her spine got chilled.
The captain was about to slaughter
A girl, who's job was to build.
She was Zaneg's only daughter
The shortest way was through the wall.
Zaneg's rage was getting hotter.
She tore a hole and tried to crawl.
But, sadly, she was much too late.
Her daughter fell like a rag doll.
Zaneg's heart was in a state
Which could not take another hit
She threw a tantrum of pure hate.
The captain was nigh made of grit
A legend and a fighter strong
We knew she'd lose, I do admit.
To the Cat, she did belong.
No fighter, she, though she fought well.
For her I sing to you this song.
Zaneg let out a fearsome yell
And lodged the pick into his chest,
But just as soon, dear Zaneg fell.
Her head fell away from the rest
As the captain's blood poured out.
Steel is not what dwarves can digest
Although they threw all things about
Their sadness, did finally shrink.
The Black Cat again stood strong and stout
Now it is time, I do think
For us all to have a drink.
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Definitely posting to watch. You've got some talent :) I couldn't rhyme with my life at stake :(
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Being like, totally into poetry and stuff, I'm posting to watch - I'm reading up on it at a later point however, tomorrow or the like. It's a really cool idea, and I'm looking forward to digging into it!
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Why am I the only person in this topic? I thought more people would have responded to something like this.
I have no idea. I'm the only one posting in Vanya's Journals (for two pages now), so you're not alone. Maybe they just don't want to interrupt?
I had a poem I wrote, Felgoth's Bane (http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=96290.0), and I think you have it beat at this point. It didn't get much in the way of replies either. Posting to watch, though.
Also, props for the sonnet. Those are hard to write.
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Also probably has alot of lurkers. And remeber Talvieno, most of your readerbase has already seen what you've written, and likewise may have many lurkers.
I'm not much of a fan of epic poetry, but hey, I liked Beowulf and I like DF so the two forms seem to meld well to me.
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Part 3: Thistun's Son, Thistun's Daughter
When Thistun slayed his necromancer foe
He wanted still to stay among his peers
O, that was so very, truly, long ago...
He had two sons, although there would be tears:
The youngest son, who was of seven years,
The favorite son, he caugth a syndrome.
He died in sleep with a mouth full of foam.
The other was left among the living.
Though Thistun never saw him the same way.
Yet Thistun was kind and much forgiving.
Then came, on a sunny Hematite's day
To Thistun's young son, Ator's, great dismay
A little girl, Kun, though but a small child,
Whose very presence made Ator go wild.
And though Kun was never unkind to him,
Her brother was a rotten and rank boy
He had extorted her to do his whim.
Thus the boy grew up with his spoiled joy
While the daughter matured quiet and coy.
Not one liked the dwarven man, though he lead,
And not one knew why he was not yet dead.
Kun became a part of the group of guards
She was the best, and thus held Etur's sword.
Ator was furious in all regards.
But the sword was not given to a lord,
Only to the best, as hard-earned reward.
So when a siege arrived, they were not scared:
The Black Cat was, as a first, well prepared.
The goblins fell with a strange and quick grace.
A single goblin was caught in a cage.
His name? Arstruk, the one of putrid face.
"I'd like to talk with you my king, my sage,
My dwarven equal who will never age."
Ator replied "I don't know what you speak.
Is there a way for which I wont grow weak?"
"Why yes, of course, and you're so very near.
Just dig deeper, and deeper, and you'll see
true power" Arstruk said with one quick snear.
Ator, unbenounced, just let Arstruk free,
Wherein he told the bowdwarves with much glee
To fire upon the goblin as he fled.
Arstruk turned round and stopped and loudly said:
"Ator, your hubris is but unmatched,
so if you'd keep in mind my humble thought:
It is good to keep your mine shafts fast hatched."
In Arstruk's head a copper bolt was caught.
His body stayed, They wanted him to rot.
Though goblins were subject to dwarven hate,
Arstruk's advice would change the Black Cat's fate...
That's enough for now. I've changed the names of Arstruk, Ator, and Kun. They used to be Ngustuk (or whatever that stereotypical name for goblins is), Etur (which is partially why I picked Ator, which sounds like Etur, and means "perfect" in dwarven), and Kun (which is simply Cat, so that's pretty clear why I picked it).
Arstruk means Demon (you can guess why, and you're probably correct). Thistun means Goldenrod (picked that name too. I mean, he had a golden sword...). Zaneg is the only name that I didn't have to change, but then again it doesn't really mean too much in the context of part 2.
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I liked the latest update. Not bad at all :D
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thanks guys.
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Where were we? Oh yeah, there...
Ator wondered how things could, and would, be.
Before he knew it, he had formed his scheme.
He thought he'd lead for all eternity.
The miners were glad til they heard a scream.
"Why should you pigs stop?" Said Ator with steam.
The miners dismissed and resumed their work
While Ator stood their, his mouth in a smirk.
The work went slow as they placed their picks
None wanted to die, they tried to eschew.
They knew that Ator's plan was not just for kicks.
The finally found a metal of blue.
Most were delighted, but none of them knew.
And no dwarf above had known Ator's plan,
Though they knew after the first miner ran.
He pushed straight by Kun, face covered in blood.
Kun looked down the hatch to see what was there,
When more miners came, followed by a *thud.*
Down underground, Ator muttered a prayer.
A blinding red light burned all of his hair.
"Make me eternal, O, make me a god!"
"I'll make you nothing but dead, Dwarven sod!"
Kun heard that Demon's penetrating voice.
Though she was not mighty enough to kill,
They had to do something, they had no choice.
"Fi, fei, fo, fam!" His voice moved with a trill.
He laughed at his joke, and at Dwarven swill.
Ator stood there, and attemped to yell,
But what use is there when you're damned to hell?
Oszom was the devil's first name
Shlakga Osmat, the heart of flame
To him, stûmö was but a game
None who still live, lived when he came.
"Dostngosp usp,
Zongosp: rusp.
Snexosp dusp,
Omosp snusp!"
Oszom pressed his finger on Ator's head,
Which got so hot his brains poured out his ears,
That is to say, Ator was good and dead.
Oszom personified all of the Black Cat's fears.
The terror would linger for many years,
For he was not to be killed by our Kun,
But she is why the Cat's not stained maroon.
Although she knew there was another way,
She wanted not for her brothers to fall.
And so she delved deep down without delay.
Oszom was a giant ten meters tall.
Kun, copmared to most dwarves, was pretty small.
Yet she had faith in Etur's golden sword.
Oszom called out before she stepped toward.
"You're his sister, are you not?
Will you show me what you've got?
Don't you know I'm pretty hot?
Won't you show me what you've g-"
Kun jumped in before Oszom was finished.
She got a slash and a stab on the beast.
She waited until the flames diminished.
She needed to get one shot in, at least,
Or, on the Cat, Oszom would surely feast.
"Don't die yet, oh please, don't make a mistake!"
Kun thought, though not only she would soon break...
Ah. Done for now. I don't have much time during the week, though I'll probably finish this part tomorrow. I'm really proud of this one. The goblin speek took as long as much of the poem, because I had to skim through the file for two syllable words that end with osp and one syllable ones that end with usp.
I'm not going to translate it back, but it does make a bit of sense. Because of the limited vocab and lack of grammar, the verbs obviously aren't declined, and maybe I used a noun as a verb or something like that. It makes a bit of sense, though, in terms of the poem. Frankly, although having heros is great and all, Oszom Shlakga Osmat and Arstruk are my two favorite characters I've written so far. I feel simply like they have the most interesting personallity. Oszom, although not smart, I imagine as being pretty clever. He's a giant demon, and he says "fi fei fo fam." Sure, his only goal was to destroy everything, but he's not like "BLARG IMA DESTRY U." Like the necromancer was. Arstruk on the other hand is very smart, and very clever. I like it when the bad guy wins on the little things like that, and Ator is/was a total failure of a mayor. I don't know why I didn't have a noble !!FUN!! time chamber for him, but I didn't.
Also, although I said what Shlakga Osmat meant (heart, flame -> heart of flame), Oszom means something too.
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"Do you think that you can really win this?"
The demon asked Kun with a wicked grin.
"It's into you which gazes the abyss."
Oszom then yelled out with an awesome din,
For Kun had sunk the sword into his shin.
As he bent, the beast swung his mighty claw.
Our Kun was burned and scraped and wrecked and raw.
She was thrown hard against the farthest rock,
Wherein she yelled for the miners to go.
Kun's voice was gone, she couldn't even talk.
She rose and took the sword and gave the blow.
Kun had known that it would cost her life though.
The sword disappeared into Oszom's chest,
Where for many ages that sword would rest.
As Kun burned alive, the stone above fell
And sealed Oszom inside without a path out.
For him, this was truly a demon's hell.
Thus it was the end of Oszom's short bout.
And though Oszom was bleeding from the snout,
He'd stay in the Cat for many decades.
It would be years for we'd hear his charades.
Only two lives were lost to old Oszom.
It was not long until the dwarves forgot.
Soon the Black Cat became the mountain home.
Though we still remember all those who fought,
The Black Cat would still turn foul into naught,
For although the beast below stayed quiet
His very presence often caused riot.
On the thirteenth year after the release,
A perfect statue was made out of gold.
Its shine and glow gave the dwarves love and peace.
The statue was much a sight to behold
Though the dwarves wondered what it was to hold.
The statue's hand was risen in the air,
Yet the gold hand's hold had held nothing there.
The Black Cat Brewery was always on destruction's brink
Dwarven kind knew that it was the best place to have a drink.
Whoever can post the quote which I'm trying to reference in the third line of this post gets serious creds.
In other news, there's only one real part left, in which the Black Cat finally gets destroyed. I'll be doing that one, but I could also do a thing about the elven/human caravan shenanigans, which I had many. Mostly just killing them and having sieges and stuff, but I could make it into a part. If I don't, then I'll just do poetry about other parts if people still want that. Heck, I can go back to when Shrak was my fortress mountain home. There were a couple cool things there. I also, in the second part, hinted about the bard who is telling the story. I could just make stuff up from there on out and turn this into a story about him (In which I'd want to rewrite the other parts to fit the rhyming scheme, but that doesn't bother me).
Or I could just stop, I don't know
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You could, but then I'd be ptw-in for nothing.
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Then I shall not.
EDIT: Oh jeesh I was scared that I had a continuity error, but I don't. Thank Armok...
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I was going to do the fourth part, which is the last part really important to the BCB, but I'm gonna go a little different on it now. I'm thinking that, now since I've at least acknowledged a bard during the Black Cat Brewery, I'm going to make this new section based around his travel. It'll still be about the Black Cat Brewery, or more about bringing down Oszom and letting the Cat be in peace, but for sake of realism and sense, the bard wont have known everything that had gone on there. He'll have known about the golden sword, because that's as much a legend as anything, but he wont know about Oszom or the location, as Oszom was pretty much a secret child of Ator's greed. So instead of a bard retelling a story of the ending of the Black Cat, I think it'd make much more sense for our bard to have written it, and to have been there when it happened.
Thusly, because I'll be telling something from what is essentially a "personal story," I think it will be significantly longer than a single part. There will probably be more about that gaggle of wolves that stole the wolverine brains they had stocked up on or whatever, which will make things more about certain situations linked together that lead up to the end, and not just "they came, they killed, they croaked" kinda thing I've done for the past parts (first part was basically that: dwarves came, necromancer/fb killed, necromancer/fb croaked x2). This all being the case, unless I re-write the first three parts (or more likely re-write the first two with the same rhyming scheme as the third), I'm just going to drop the whole "parts" thing from now on. I still think I'll break things up into chunks, like "assembling" being one chunk, and that being an entire post, and "humans and dwarves," being another chunk, and that being an entire post, but unless I say "assembling part1," don't expect an "assembling part2."
Also one last note, I'm going to stick with the ABA BBCC (Which I really like working with. Königlicher Reim gives a cool rhythm I think), with important speech or events being something like AAAA or AABB or whatever.
SO YEAH.
Drunk as of post, so I'll write up the start to the end tomorrow. What do you guys think? I haven't got much response. It's kinda disappointin, but whatcha gonna do right?
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Assembling
Not long after Zaneg's untimely death,
The Black Cat could not keep on keeping on.
One day, it just let out its final breath.
I was the Cat's very last liaison,
I was the last one there; I had withdrawn.
The tale of the blade was thought a fable,
But I never took myths off the table.
The statue of Thistun fighting his foe
Teased me so with his empty hand held high.
It finally got me. How did it know?
I would go insane if it were a lie.
I slept every night on the verge of a cry.
There had to be something which I could do,
Then an idea came out of the blue.
Seven new Dwarves to me promptly arrived.
All of them warriors or dwarves who could fight.
They didn't believe the tale I contrived.
The last thing I wanted was to excite,
So I told them why they were here, outright.
All of them stayed, as they had trusted me,
Even though there was not a lot to see.
The leader, Morül, could make blood from a stone.
Midor was the strongest in our small squad.
Vath, with short temper, liked to be alone.
Lokum, our map user, walked with a rod.
Libash, our axedwarf, we thought was quite odd.
The ugly Thuveg looked much like a swine.
The last one, Damor, kept the rest in line.
After a week in the Black Cat, we left,
Because nothing of interest we found.
We thought that maybe there had been some theft.
Already had we stopped looking around,
But already to the Cat we were bound.
"I know!" said Thuveg, as he packed his sack,
"Lets look in the one place with records, Shrak!"
Sorry for no updates. I've been a bit busy. It should go faster now though.
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This is a damn interesting story.
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Humans and Dwarves
We made our wagon and went on our way
Towards Shrak, the very first mountain home:
So old, its own name means nothing today.
It was cut out of ice and frozen loam.
A place where the wolves and yaks freely roam.
It had been long destroyed, something went wrong,
The words are so old, none savvy the song.
From what we do know, they fell to a war
A battle so large that blood drowned the fort
A battle of such size none can ignore.
Even with all of the lands' full support,
And with the soldiers they had to import,
They fought impossibility and fate
And when they saw them it was much too late...
We stopped at a town to buy some supplies
When we heard that Shrak was expecting greys.
We could not take on a force of such size.
There was no time, even barring delays,
Not to mention the road was one huge maze.
An pale old sailor lent us his frail hand,
He showed us a boat that lay on the sand
If a poor dwarf was forced to pick between
A man, an elf, and a gobblin as friend
The dwarf would just say the question's obscene.
For while man, like elf, is easy to offend
And while man, like goblin, always contend,
He, like all dwarves, likes well to drink his ale,
And, more importantly, knows how to sail.
One does not find much on the dwarven boat,
As in, most dwarves, well, don't know how one looks.
Being made of stone, dwarves do not well float.
It's fast unheard of to see them in books!
We had no idea how one uses hooks!
So when we heard we could get there before,
We quickly agreed, we ran to the shore!
We were told we'd leave the day past 'morrow
We slept in a bar with men of the sea.
They told us tales from the sea of sorrow.
They were much like dwarves, we all did agree,
Shorter, too. We called them "dwarves of the quay."
But there always comes a point simply when
We lay down our jokes, for they are still men.
These shorter little bits are easier to work with. Still done for now
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Dwarves on a Boat
So came the morning and we set our sails.
We all were anxious of the days ahead.
The humans said they wanted to hunt whales.
"What's a whale?" asked Lokum, who lay in bed,
Those horrible soft beds, our backs were dead,
The question stood, though, we knew no such beast,
Though it sounded like they could make a feast.
Lokum talked often with the ship's leader
Or however he's called: he sailed the thing.
He turned out to be a good map reader.
I sat around so I could play and sing,
The others worked with the sea's icy sting.
We all puked to the the unforgiving waves,
Dwarves are much more fit for living in caves.
After a week, not one whale had we seen
A couple big fish, but nothing detailed.
We had no idea what it could mean.
So for a week more we puked, while they sailed.
It got very cold: it rained, snowed, and hailed.
They said we were near the edge of the earth,
Where all of the monsters were given birth.
We were much skeptical, to say the least,
They had never struck the earth's burning heart.
But maybe they spoke of a different beast.
By then we figured Damor was quite smart,
Or had we known that direct from the start?
When he said there was a kobold aboard,
It wasn't hard for us to have ignored.
"And where will this kobold take all his steals?
All we can see is sea, we cannot leave!"
Vath was furious and ruined our meals.
The captain came in and and asked for Damor,
"Where did you see him, and are you quite sure?"
"He's lying! It can't be!" Vath screamed. "It can.
It has." Said captain. "Klabautermann."
The sailors turned a whiter shade of pale,
For a Klabautermann, who's seen, spelled doom
To all men on board, always, without fail.
A certain silence swept over the room,
They knew now that this boat would be their tomb.
Although he helps with work where it's needed,
Going under has always proceeded.
Another week passed, the crew fast forgot
Of the death that would soon come, their wet fate.
We thought it a tale, so we worried not.
The ocean froze over in the dead strait,
This was our last stop, and we couldn't wait.
We got on a rowboat, started to row
When we saw a ways away a shadow.
Our dinghy was shook by the thing beneath,
Which moved with startling speed to the whalers.
It's skin was black, with the whitest of teeth.
As we landed, we looked at the sailors
We figured this was one of death's tailors.
In an eye blink, what was left was a mast.
We saw our first whale, and they saw their last.
OUHAAAAH
Longer one today. I really like how it turned out. I know I don't use much sailing terms, which is funny because I'm a sailor, but I don't think dwarves know anything about boats. At the end I use them more often because I assume they would have picked it up after a while. Klabautermänner have always been a thing of facination for me. They're kobolds, but they're also sailors. They're like fairies, but they're not little pussy elf-like fairies. The fact that they're a bad omen, yet there is nothing bad about them is to me a curiousity. I don't know, I just love the klabautermann story.
EDIT: And before you say it, I know I used beast twice. I didn't think about it. It just happened. I'll try not to do it again, but there's not so many thigns I can think of to say sometimes. And although it becomes much like just simply writing after doing it for a while, it's never "simply writing." I have to think about the rhymes, but the syllables become easy to do.
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Sherik, Suruuka, Shrak Part 1
We arrived at Shrak in not a day more,
It's stone walls reflecting off the dark ice,
With no idea what we had had in store.
The only text on Shrak's copious gneiss
Is "Shrak," at the enterance. Pretty concise.
Is it Goblin "Suru Uka?" "Watch late?"
Or Dwarf "Sherik," Perplex? Many debate.
None, however, say Shrak wasn't well rich:
They had silver statues of even elves!
To spend such wealth on such horrible kitch.
They had diamond rings on platinum shelves,
One could say they took good care of themselves.
Though many had come to take their own weight,
Their own greed kept them from leaving Shrak's gate
We delved quick into the abyssal black.
As they put up lights to find our way,
I looked for the clues I knew were in Shrak.
Thus, we quickly forgot the light of day.
It feels natural to dwarves, I must say.
And soon enough we found the record hold
Where the history of the world was told.
A goblin skeleton was laying there,
A pick in his hand, no armor, no clothes.
He still had a little spriffel of hair.
On the table, stagnant water had froze,
Suru Ukkar, were the words he had chose.
"To see beauty," I whispered deep and low
"You speak Goblin?" asked Morül, "Didn't know."
I jumped into the ancient texts it held.
I read night and day about the old Black Cat.
The scrolls and tablets really badly smelled.
Later, I felt in my chair where I sat,
A small, and sadly growing, pitter-pat.
A thousand feet of greys wanting teasure
So they could buy whores to kill for pleasure.
I begged to stay a bit longer reading,
I needed to know where the golden sword laid.
Without the knowledge my heart'd be bleeding.
I read of Oszom, and of Kun and the blade,
And Thistun, too, and how Ator betrayed.
I wrote songs to remember the story;
I told them of the blood and the glory.
I'm wicked tired, so I'll split this part into two. The second part may come tomorrow, may not. Now, at least, you know that they know of everything that happened. Now, also, you know (or can assume), that the goblin army coming to raid Shrak (which is a mashup of Suru Urrak, because its immense wealth and beauty was the reason for its downfall - which was caused by the goblins in the first place) is going to be pressuring he dwarves to find another way out and get some fighting action in.
I've set up the tool with which the group will kill Oszom. Can you guys guess? I wont say what's correct (and believe me I'm not asking because I don't know how I'm going to kill him, I do.), but I want to see what you guys think it might be.
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double post. nothing to see here
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Sorry for a lack of updates, but I've been doing IRL things and thusly cannot put out a poem a day. Maybe today I'll get one out, but no idea.
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Cont to Part 2
The goblins would take much time to find us,
But they were so many they could just swarm.
They were interested in gold, and thus,
When one saw that not all was in the norm,
He nigh forgot to run back to inform.
Libash, who stayed silent, grabbed the fool's head
And squeezed til the goblin fell, laying dead.
I needed a minute to pack my stuff,
But we had to leave or we'd leave in sacks.
We had to leave, or they would call our bluff.
We took out our weapons, but lost our axe,
Infact Libash was gone, but left us tracks.
He seemed to know the way out like it's clear.
We walked long, we knew we had to be near.
The goblin army was a mighty force.
Though they wanted money, they were well armed.
And they were well prepared to fight of course.
All of the goblins had stayed unalarmed
Until a horn sounded for whom we'd harmed.
The body was found, and all were on guard.
A whole army after a single bard.
Some of them had found theirselves before us.
They did not yet see us, but them, we saw.
We would have to fight the goblin chorus.
The rest of the group all knew how to braw.
Knew how to take pain, be punched in the jaw,
They knew how to get stabbed, slapped, or jabbed,
They knew well what to do if they get grabbed.
There wasn't much a fight to see
Seven trained dwarves against fifteen
About as hard to chop a tree
With an axe whose head is not keen.
Vath cryed out with frightening glee
His face twisted to something mean.
He broke a leg and cracked a knee
Soon enough they were but fourteen.
Morül's sword worked much like a key
Which only ever fit between
The ribs of they who let out plea,
Then, still fewer, they were thirteen.
Damor let a few bolts fly free:
They caused the goblins to careen.
And though he shot not more than three,
Twelve still stood in that bloody scene.
Lokum, though old, we did agree,
Swung his spear so it was unseen.
His speed was like that of a bee
Eleven were left to demean.
Midor's yell could have made one flee,
Could have, for he crushed whom he'd seen.
He was a one dwarf killing spree.
Just ten stood left there to be seen.
Thuveg's face looked like a banshee
Who'd been crushed by his hammer's sheen,
But we just tease, he was gutsy.
One more foe's face looked like his spleen.
Soon enough the others fled
While those who lived quickly bled,
Those who died were clearly dead.
The stone walls were all stained red.
We made our way, finally, from that place.
I had memorized the songs of the Cat.
When we got out, we saw Libash's round face.
"Where were you in our little tit-for-tat?"
Vath's red face was covered in bloody splat,
He yelled with extreme anger, his head hot.
Damor replied "Vath, be glad. More, you fought."
Do some more later. Merry Christmas. I liked the fight scene thing. I didn't want to drag it out too much to talk more about what they fought with, but they'll fight again. I'll do more fighting just because I like Vath and Vath likes fighting. Thuveg is also one of my favorites. The idea of a nice, but ugly, guy who everybody teases is an idea I like. I'll go more into the relationships on the travel back as there's no hurry for them to get out and it's a long journey anyways.
The Bard doesn't have a name. Ideas? Should I just keep it "the bard?"
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Merry day-after-Christmas, you creative bastard.
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Heh thanks. You too. Also happy Yule, because that is also a great holiday.
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So no update today. I was going to, but I wasn't in the mood to write anything. Instead, I sketched Thistun. It's not much, but I wanted to get an idea of what I thought he looked like before I sketched the Golden Bust of him holding the sword (though the sword is not present, it's just his empty hand) with the necromancer's head at the base.
So a sketch of Thistun it is. By the way I'm not a talented drawer. Keep that in mind. I may be a master carpenter and a proficient writer, but I'm only adequet with this darned tablet thing. I'm okay with paint, but not with computer drawing stuffs. And though I am a good carpenter IRL, I don't have the space anymore (or the tools, I had to leave those behind) for doing that. I would gladly make a wooden copy of Thistun, but I simply cannot at the current time.
(http://i.minus.com/jXxZxt3XNbNwb.png)
Blarg the right eye is smaller than the left. Whatever. At least you can see what he looks like. I do like the nose, though. I had tons of trouble with it but it turned out alright. The mouth too. Moustache looks a bit funny, but it's better than it was before. He looked like a monkey before I took away a lot of it. The perspective is also a bit fucked. At the top it looks like he's facing towards the right, but everything else makes him look like he's pointing towards us, and his ears say the complete opposite. Eyes are also a bit close, but that's dismisable because I know people with that but worse.
Oh and fun fact: I had initially intended to make a comic instead of a poem, but I couldn't get a cartoony style that was easy enough to do for a lot of pictures or that looked artsy enough. That's why that sort of way I wrote the black cat is the way it is, because I DID get how I'd want to write that...
And that little glyph thing is my signature. Not the signature I use on credit cards, but the signature I use for things that I don't really need my name present for. It's both Non, a simple form of my favorite constolation (though it'll be hard to see unless you're told. It's really only for me), and my initials in the cyrillic alphabet going sideways (but that's also really only for me).
So in lieu of no post today, take my offering of a sketch.
EDIT: The more I look at it, the more I think Thistun's face was one only a mother could love. Dem lips, mang.
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I'll quickly explain the lack of updates recently. So, I have this job. That keeps me occupied a lot during strange times, and so I didn't get so so much free time during the vacations. Then I had a friend come over for a week or whatever. I hadn't seen him in who knows how long (probably years), and didn't really have time. Then, when I would have had time, I was puking. I had made eggnog a week or so ago, and I spose it went bad by then and I just furiously puked from it for two or so days. Then it was new years. A, I was about as shitface drunk as I ever do get (enough to be throwing bottles on the ground and breaking them). 2, I hadn't slept for 25 hours (because fuck sleep). And D, When I became sober this morning at whatever time, wasted and tired and confused, I realized I had no goddamn idea where in the world I was. Yeah I knew the country, maybe the city, but where? No. I had to catch so many busses before I finally got home a couple hours ago.
That said, I've had a little sleep, I'm not so drunk anymore, and it's new years. Happy new years! I'll be updating more often again, but this one may be a bit short, due to my being basically a zombie.
Picking Up a Sword [Snippet]
We had lost all the food we brought along.
We imagined it sat in Shrak alone,
Or with goblins whom it would now belong.
"They will never leave this cold hell of stone."
Morül said low, "They must, and will, atone."
"Watcha mean?" Thuveg replied, all confused,
But Morül stood still, quietly bemused.
"Hm? Oh," Morül said, forgetting his place,
"One can not leave with a cent from this curse.
Their greed will crush them in heavy embrace."
"Maybe, while they're in there filling their purse,
We could relieve some things, try to coerce."
Thuveg stood tall, with much pride and content.
"Then you and the bard go." And so we went.
I was dead tired and could not think clear,
So I did not think much of Thuveg's plan.
Hell, I had not seen something so austere.
We came from the side, or moreso we ran,
And stumbled upon a small Goblin clan.
They'd stolen weapons from places I'd known,
And seemingly stripped those places to bone.
They saw us not, for we snuck behind tents.
I had no defence, no means for offense,
So I searched a barrel for sharp contents.
When I found a blade, we then could commence.
I knew to choose quick, I had common sense.
It looked elven, but by goblins 'twas made:
A strange rascal, a rapscallion blade.
Yeah so super short. The Bard, who I don't know if I should name, isn't a complete nobody with weapons. I don't think any dwarf is, because any of them can make a sword that can kill, and any of them could swing one. Maybe dwarves just learn about these sort of things because they grow up around them.
-
"What do we need?" Thuveg whispered to me.
"Food and drink, I think." Said I in return.
"Hm." Thuveg thought hard. "I know! Wait and see."
Those damn goblins should have had more concern,
For Thuveg's plan could make trolls' stomachs churn.
After we gathered some food for our trip,
I saw his hammer, that made my heart skip.
He set up some round stones all in a line.
A siege engine couldn't shoot them faster.
From over yonder, we heard goblin swine.
"Whidja doo dat, don'dja haf no tastor?"
I know goblin speak, but I'm no master.
He had somehow hit someone with a rock,
Much confused, they fought and started to squawk.
Within a minute, the goblins did brawl.
With out any idea of the cause.
"But ho," Thuveg triumphed "that is not all."
He looked at a cage with beasts with blue paws,
I knew what he'd do, but his plan had flaws.
He climbed on the sleeping rutherer cage,
I thought that he didn't care for old age.
SCHWACK! His hammer broke off a metal pin.
KRAKK! The rutherers scratched against the door.
BRANG! No more blue monsters had he left in.
But all that banging had brought something more.
Trolls, fearfull of storms, had woken from snore.
Though there lacked thunder, the noise was the same.
Trolls are quite dumb, but have frumious flame.
So, as the yonder goblins had some fun,
The rutherers ran to grab some fodder,
And trolls ran rampage; they stopped for no one.
Within minutes, I, myself an applauder,
Was confronted by a grey marauder.
He, thrown by a troll with tears in his eye,
Saw me clear as he was facing the sky.
He took out a horn and blew strident noise.
As they stopped the useless gefraggeling,
We caugh a sight of the goblin's old boys.
I stuck the sword in his head, so straggling,
Before he'd try to try with me haggling.
As I saw him laying dead on the ground,
I nearly puked, but I quickly rebound.
Again we ran, but to safety this time.
We disappeared behind an icy hill,
And told myself an old nursery rhyme.
Once more we heard that horn horribly shrill,
We all shook ourselves as our spines got chills.
Within minutes the goblins had all forgot.
With only one grey dead, why would they not?
I had never killed anything prior.
I had had a toy sword when I was young,
But I made song. I was in a choir!
I still remember how my sword had stung.
And I still feel the hate of how I swung.
With food, however, we finally went,
But from that alone, all of me was spent.
I wont put goblin words in there that you have to look up to understand. You didn't need to understand the little goblin bit from Oszom, but I put one goblin word (tastor) in the poem, and although you can guess what it means if it were in context, I muddled up the context. Tastor means faithful loyalty. From this we assume that Thuveg was lucky enough to hit an officer or elder person or whatever. If that part didn't come through clear enough, imagine using golf as a weapon. Thuveg wields a hammer (it's his weapon. All of the seven have their own weapon except for Vath, who can use all of them but prefers to wrestle because he's always full of hate), and he set up round stones and "shot" them.
The rest of the goblin speak is just muddled. Say it aloud and you should understand it good enough. If you can't get it, it says "Why'd you do that, don't you have no [faith loyalty]?"
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3/4 Time
G D G %
Don't know where I'm going,
D C G %
But I know I'll find ya there,
C D G %
Because I will always travel,
D C G %
And I'll travel to you, I swear,
D C
So when ya pack up your things,
C G
We'll be feasting like kings,
D C G %
And we'll always have time to spare.
Achem. Enough music for now, let's get back to poety.
Libash Gets Wood, Midor tells a story, Vath and Damor Go Hunting, This is a Title for a Section.
We made our way to the warm sun of day,
But we'd first have to get through the cold night
And survive the relentless wrath of gray.
The land was cold enough for quick frost bite,
We needed fire for its heat and its light.
But for that we needed something like wood,
We had one axe, less I misunderstood.
Libash got red at the first talk of tree,
As if it were an insult "I'LL DO IT!"
He screamed, and ran where we couldn't see.
Thereafter we heard him get right to it,
It didn't sound like he swung, but threw it.
He came back with a tree, whole, still with leaves
And he did it without gauntlets or greaves.
"We didn't need that much, my dear Libash."
Damor said slow, with such a calming voice
"Don't care what
you need." He said in a lash.
But with wood, we made fire, we could rejoice.
We listened to Midor (we had no choice).
He may have been strong, but he was not smart,
You don't need much wit to break stones apart.
"When I was young, my father left,
He went to war, we were bereft
That was the last time we saw him
And this is his hymn.
Two hundred dwarves went to fight elves.
Two thousand elves, full of themselves
They say the dwarves' chances were slim,
Their fate has a hymn.
They fought by the sea, there they died,
At a fort in the mountainside.
None of them there knew how to swim,
They have a wet hymn.
All of them fought to their cold death,
All of them fought to their last breath,
All of them fought to they'd no limb,
They fought for a hymn.
No dwarf or elf lived through that day,
None of them came back from Thrips Bay
And as they day began to dim,
We sung them this hymn.
"None survived?" I asked in reply.
"None," Midor said, "they all did die."
"Then how d'you know?" I said in whim,
"Not much of a hymn."
His funny little hymn was not so bad,
But Damor and Vath had seemed to think so.
I just knew that Vath was already mad.
Damor and Vath left with but a crossbow,
When they returned they carried a dear, though.
What's more was that Vath had a new pet hound,
A black wolf with black eyes, Vath's anger: found.
"What do you think?" Triumphantly he said,
Libash stared at him as if he were broke,
As if Vath had something wrong in the head.
"This beast should be killed! Beat! Burn! Slay! Slash! Choke!
You're a fool for showing it dwarven folk!"
Vath slapped Libash so hard he spat red.
"You hurt my wolf and you will soon be dead!"
That's enough for now. I may get more in later. Probably not. I just noticed that I've been spelling Mörul as Morül for a while now. Whatever. I like how Morül sounds more than Mörul.
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Lokum Has Bad Eyes
We put faith in each of our kin and friends,
But some of it we lost for old Lokum.
It's not like blindness was what he intends.
When we heard some bread fall into the gloom,
We saw he was trying eat some, I presume.
Yet a loaf fell, and a loaf was destroyed,
And Vath would clearly be very annoyed.
The Hvarfafeigr Part 1 (because I like telling about this guy)
A fog set in after a week or so,
It was dark and deep and black and blurry.
Vath and his wolf would often come and go.
Then one day Vath came back in a hurry.
The one time I saw Vath without furry.
"It is he! From my dreams! The legonor!
Hvarfafeigr! He, of frozen death and gore."
We always knew Vath was different, but,
This was too far. He spoke but nonsense true.
He'd no fear. No butterflies in his gut.
We saw no shaking in the morning due,
No noises from yonder, no scared birds flew.
Vath's wolf was gone, but it wouldn't be long.
"I bet it bit your ass." Libash was wrong.
Vath must have had eyes like eagles' to gaze,
But most anyone with ears could have heard,
And all with skin could feel it through the haze.
Finally we saw a flock of black birds,
To the tune of death, harsh pain without words.
A large black object was thrown through the fog.
"MY WOLF!" Vath screamed as he ran to his dog.
It was too late, though, always had it been:
Every bone broken, caked in blood, dead cold.
Through the grey cloud we saw a huge dark grin.
"It's no big deal, Vath!" I heard someone scold,
"If Armok made it, it can die! Get hold!"
I could not tell who was calming Vath down,
Or trying: Vath's face was twisted to frown.
The light around us had seemed to have fled.
Vath was near tears up until I reached out
And got shocked by hair that lay on his head.
The rest of the crew prepared for a bout,
Vath beat the beast's stare and let out a shout.
"Your teeth of dragon and claws of tiger
Shall serve your cause no longer, Hvarfafeigr!"
"Don't do it, Vath, oh you will die for sure!"
The voice from our crew was painful to hear.
With Vath, the berserker, we would endure.
"NO!" The voice was somewhere close to pure fear.
'Twas the legonor's voice, he with the sneer!
The fog, blacker than black, darker than dark,
As thick as the spume, got even more stark.
Soon we heard loud the mighty fist of Vath,
The fog shimmered slight as the beast was punched.
We knew he had steel, he whose name is wrath.
We saw him for a second: blue and hunched,
His teeth were the bones of those he had lunched.
He'd moss on his toes and coral for hair,
He'd seen everything and been everywhere...
That's enough for now. (that seems to be becoming my thing to say when I'm done. Like I just sit down and pour out some text - which is what I do basically)
On Hvarfafeigr and bitching about how things go slower than they did back in the day when I knew where the story was going specifically.
I split it up because I wanted the Hvarfafeigr its own part (and it's a long part so I split that up too). He's a fiercesome thing. As the writer, I'm taking liberties with the world and what can happen. He's really just a glorified Night Troll that has an old norse name (a mashup of wander and death/doomed, so a wander-doom, or a legonor - which is more wander + large). I want some creative creatures. What have I had already, I mean really! There's a demon in a crypt of a fort where a necromancer and FB were also slain. We have a cursed ruin that had a siege of goblins among numerous trolls (which are scared of lightning in fairy tales) and rutherers. I'll add mysterious sadist troll oger giant things that live in constant fog that he can manipulate somehow. I love the description I made for him. I constantly surprise myself with the images I think of.
Bah it's so much harder to write the story from nothing, though. I had notes, but because the Bard and his crew aren't mentioned at all (or at least the Bard. The seven were the seven I used to destroy Oszom. It'll happen in the same way roughly.) I have to make it up section by section. I have ideas where I'm going with characters and stuff, but as far as the crew goes? I made a mental line across the map from the original Shrak to the original BCB and imagined what would happen between. Mostly it's just woods, but there're mountains and towns and stuff. I don't really want it to come to an end, but I can see Oszom's destruction in sight (however small it may be in the distance). At least five more sections, but still. Don't expect me to keep going after all is said and done, I don't like unnaturally lengthening things.
On details I put into the poem:
When I put something into the poem, you can expect it to be important to the story. Libash and trees (and wolves)? Important. Lokum and his eyes? Important. Midor and his pride for his forfathers? Less important - that's just a character trait that I wanted to bring out because he's not talked about too much. Vath? Being my favorite of the squad, I may or may not put superfluous text about him - but his anger and his wolf are important. Zaneg and that entire section? More important than you'd yet know. That was the last time BCB was active, and the Bard was there when it fell (albeit he was younger and a liason).
On Pronunciation of names and such:
I often try to put the names of things as rhyming words so you can see how I think of pronouncing them. Hvarfafeigr I pronounce like Tiger if Tiger was one syllable. It still rhymes, but Hvarfafeigr is 3 syllables while Tiger is 2. Vath is like it's spelled. Morül is like it would be in German (so how it's spelled). Midor is like Midas, but instead of "as" it's "or." Legonor has the same or sound, so Midor and Legonor could theoretically rhyme... Erm. Most names are like how they would be said in German with the exception of Zaneg (which has an english Z sound) and Vath (which has the english A and the TH sound, so it sounds exactly like "Wrath" with a V instead of Wr.
I'm thinking of having the Bard's name be Bardum. Bardum means "fight" in Dwarven. Maybe his whole name is Bardum Shasad (Shasad means music). If I do, I'll still probably call him only "the Bard," as Bardum may be contracted to Bard by dwarves, like Robert to Rob.
I'm feeling a bit artsy, so I may try to draw the Hvarfafeigr.
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Bravo, good sir. Seriously? No one else here wants to post some kiss ass crap? If anyone deserves it, it's this man...
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I am but a humble carpenter.
Most literally, if this was four years ago and I was humble. Thanks for the praise, though, it really makes me enjoy going forward.
(http://i.minus.com/j6U6ulLogioYR.png)
Cough cough cough.
The Hvarfafeigr Part 2
His vest was the skins of sentient kinds.
Crudely cut, mottled faces of his snacks
Sewn together with hair twisted in winds.
Sadly enough he lacked a pair of slacks,
But I wont go there, so you can relax.
His nose was turned so far up towards the sky,
If it weren't, he could smell himself and die!
Then, in an instant, the cloud reappeared,
All we could see was that sinister smile.
We were angry to the hairs on our beard.
A deviant troll with powers to wile?
Unheard of. We didn't know he'd have guile.
We didn't like it, so we moved on in.
This dastard had no chance, we'd surely win.
Morül went forth, sword in hand,
And cut behind the knees.
Hvarfafeigr screamed out in pain,
He'd not yet scream out pleas.
One would hear him through the land,
But Thuveg choked with chain.
Just so he could make it tight,
He tied it to his belt.
Pushed his feet against its neck,
And made a bloody welt.
Hvarfafeigr tried to fight
And Lokum did he deck.
Hvarfafeigr was full of power,
That deceitful foe of the hour.
Though he stood not much like a tower,
He destroyed men with his cold glower.
Libash froze to the cheshire cat,
He was swarmed by fly and moth and gnat,
And fainted there, laid perfectly flat.
Lokum and Libash were out, at that.
Damor shot him full of steel,
Which stuck fast like a pin.
The cyan flowed down his face,
And stained his navy skin.
Damor had just painted teal,
When Midor swung his mace.
The large weight was hard to wield,
But that's not what one does,
One swings that weight with lust
And breaks toes with moss fuzz.
Midor did, and did not yield,
Till Vath showed through the dust.
The fighting stopped for an eye's one blink.
I was caring for Libash, I think,
I looked up, saw the beast's pupils shrink.
Vath grabbed Lokum's spear, his eyes did wink.
The short pause gave the Legonor time
To strengthen the fog and hide the grime.
Vath threw at the grin of the low slime.
It struck and he said "pay for your crime!"
The Hvarfafeigr fell back onto the frost.
The spear had lodged itself straight in his nose.
Did you expect me to say that we'd lost?
The beast laid there in his eternal doze,
He clenched up his fist and curled up his toes.
He took one last breath and sucked up the cloud,
And let out a whistling noise that burned the shroud.
Lokum was fine but had taken some hits,
Yet Libash's heart was going much too weak.
Lokum was a doctor, or least had wits,
Something was off when he felt Libash's cheek.
"It's cold! Either he's a bit of a freak,
Or he's not all dwarf." We all looked surprised.
"Dwarven cheeks should be warm," Lokum advised.
"He looks like a dwarf that I ever saw,"
Replied Damor as he moved to a crouch,
His eyes curious and face full of awe.
"What would he be, then?" Asked Vath, that old grouch,
"Elf?" "Maybe, I have evidence to vouch.
But let's get him standing fore we find out."
He grabbed mushrooms and a single bean sprout
Lokum made them a paste with his own fist,
Mixed it with rum and a small bit of spit.
He it gave Libash and then felt his wrist.
"He will pull through if he doesn't submit,
But just for elf-kin is this mixture fit."
Vath walked to his wolf to pay his respect,
But carved him up for a secret project.
Just then Libash started loudly to cough,
And woke up, eyes blazing, covered in sweat.
He was too hot, so he tore his clothes off.
"You're elf-kin, aren't you? No worry, don't fret"
"Yes I'm well, and you?" Libash was upset.
"No jokes." Lokum said "Now tell me the truth."
"I have been half elf ever since my youth."
That's enough for today. I wasn't planning on doing that in that way, but I was going to bring up that at some point so I suppose now is as good as any. It's not really a secret, and I don't know if I'll have space to put it in somewhere, but because Libash is half elf, yet sides with dwarves (like Spock from startrek, except with his two races), he is extremely eager to do things that would disgust his pansy-half (say cut trees). It's the only reason why he holds an ax, because elves don't like tools made for tree cutting.
A lot of times you can see where I want to put details in but don't really have space. I put Vath carving up his wolf right there because I wouldn't have any other place to put it really.
I like the fighting scene in this one, but reading it makes it seem funny structurally. Every two stanzas it's a different meter and rhyming scheme. I could have planned that out better, but when I wrote it, it seemed like a good idea.
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Good news, people. I was in a bit of a block yesterday (thusly no update, but I'm not constent enough to say that's the real reason), and I didn't know where I was going to go. I was plannig on just taking everybody back to the Brewery and finishing it, knowing that that was a really bad ending and just dealing. That would be about 3 to 5 updates long, and would leave out a lot of character development and loose ends (say, what happens to the goblins at Shrak or why the Dwarves didn't die with the men on the ship - note that that was because the legend says that all crewmen die. The dwarves are not human, nor are they part of the crew and so they lived.)
Thankfully, I got past my little writing block and have a much better way of going through with things. Although there may not be much fighting, there's going to be at least one really good situational situation which I wont reveal anything about (because although I may reveal plot details ahead of time, I don't reveal plot).
SO ON WITH THE STORY.
The sun shined for days, what a mixed blessing.
Some dwarves hate the sun, but it pleases me.
I guess it's the light they find distressing.
I almost wished we were back on the sea.
It was early, and I was drinking tea,
When I heard Morül and Lokum talking
About which way we should begin walking.
"The road is too dangerous, blind old bat!"
"I'm the map user! Why should I be here
If I can't even choose, whimpering brat?"
"Then we'll go the road." Said Morül, severe,
As Lokum polished his blood covered spear.
And with that, the two stopped their babbling.
"Bard, come here and learn more than dabbling."
Morül was not the worst teacher, I say.
He was strict, but he was the best I'd had.
And so he was to teach me much swordplay.
I didn't see why the road was so bad.
If it was the fastest, then I was glad.
Morül's mind was always some other place,
It was as if he thought it was a race.
Vath had finished his personal project:
A jacket from his wolf, the head still there.
It looked as if he was one to perfect.
Made of his hounds beautifully black hair,
It didn't offer protection to wear,
But when had Vath ever given a damn?
He needed it light to make foes to jam.
Libash was looking like he was quite ill,
But Lokum said it that his cure was just stark,
And that he'd get through if he had the will.
We're in the habit of calling him "Bark,"
His full joke-name was "Efly Bark McLark."
We teased him harder than even "Pretty,"
Or, "Pretty, the Face of the Rotten Kitty."
Because I'm still having a bit of blockage (durpa durp I need stool softener for my braaaain), I'm going to make it short. I don't want this to just jump from one exciting situation to another or it will diminish th excitingness of the situations. Same with fighting. I don't plan any "fight scenes" until the end, but who knows you might get attacked by wolves... I do intend some life-death situations, but not really fighting.
Want to know how I measure how long things are? I see if it fits in my screen without scrolling. If it does, I know I've not written enough.
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Another excellent piece :) Blocks or no you're doing great!
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Esnodul, Zugstrux-Oson: Goblon Alsmust Ostsnost-Sluslu
Err. Yeah. That's the name of the part. I wont expect you to translate all of that, but it says "HungerPig Finger-Sucker: Goblin* Deity of the Immortal Fame.
*(literally Mud-Subordinate in Goblin language Gob being mud and Lon being subordinate. I like that name, fits.)
Anyways.
Esnodul, Zugstrux-Oson: Goblon Alsmust Ostsnost-Sluslu
We'd been travelling for nigh three months now,
The road had given us no trouble. None.
Yet Morül looked back and wrinkled his brow.
"What is it?" I asked when swordplay was done.
"O, it's just that I don't like the damn sun."
"I'm not that dense," I replied cold and stern,
"Something is worng, you do have some concern."
"I, too, am not so dumb, my fellow bard.
There's an army coming, they'll arrive soon."
To believe such a statement wasn't too hard.
That night the stars showed bright beneath the moon.
We laid with light bugs and beetles of june.
I told old fables and sang joyous songs,
And thought disappeared were all the world's wrongs.
My music was drowned, notes torn asunder,
By songs of pain and hate. The songs of war.
They stepped in line with their rhytmic thunder.
"Run for the mountains!" And our feet did soar.
They didn't see us as we climbed the tor.
We got to the top and looked at them pass.
Thousands of Goblins as a green-hued mass.
"There's no way we can fight them." Midor spoke.
"Did you think we'd do that!?" Morül replied,
"Are you so thick, you big blubbering joke?"
"No need for that." Said Damor as he eyed,
"We're going to wait . We're going to hide."
"I do not tink zo, Zuarng. I take yu in!"
A grey sniper put a knife to my chin.
"Now don't be rash, please," Damor told him slow,
"We'll do what you say, just don't kill him. Please!"
And so we were forced to the gobs below.
The smell of them all drifted in the breeze,
And their words flew too as they'd test and tease.
We were brought to a cart that lay far back.
These weren't the goblins that had been by Shrak.
The cart was a platform built of tin and wood,
Pulled by swine, though ridiculous it seems.
Stranger still was that one of the pigs stood.
He sat on a throne made of blood and dreams,
And from here he'd command all the regimes.
"What have we here? Dwarves? But what is that smell?
It's something I've eaten, I know it well."
"Goblin, well done, now go back to your post."
We were left unguarded, yet couldn't leave,
For the demon there in us was engrossed.
"Give me your bag, dwarf," And I made a heave.
Goblin food spilled out. "From where did you theave?
Where? You're travelling south. Where could it be?
No." He said amused. "But yes. Possibly."
"Show me your sword, dwarf." And Morül did such.
"Not you, I meant him. This sword." His hand rose.
I pulled out the blade, so cool to the touch.
He geffawed loud. "So it's true I suppose!
Do you know what this is?" he asked, I froze.
"This is an insult to elves! Made by slaves!
This is the work of those elves without graves!"
"Tell me, how did your band destroy those fools?"
"We did-" Morül cut me off, "We're the best!
We do not listen to anyone's rules!"
"I don't believe you, but let us not test,
For they are our foes. For them, we detest.
I wouldn't care if it were Shrak who'd killed,
Would not even care if it were just willed."
"But where are you going, this I wonder.
You are far from home. You head where deaths stand!
You'd have stayed north if you were to plunder."
"You are going to where all men are damned.
AH! I know for what you search in this land!"
Could you? Maybe. Would you? Maybe. Should you-?"
I answered quickly. "We simply need to."
"I hope you succeed. Less competition."
"So you'll let us go?" Damor did so infer.
"Yes, if you're ready for such a mission."
We all went quiet, but one sound did stir:
Him sucking his ring finger, as it were.
His pinkies were gone, chewed all to a stub.
The finger he sucked was but a large nub.
He made a sudden bite, growled a deep growl
And shoved his finger into glowing coals.
It burnt, then he chewed it with a pleased scowl.
"GUD!" He cried out loud, that foulest of souls.
Ten goblins came, each one holding ten bowls.
They laid the bowls down; we saw what's inside:
Meat. Burnt, braised, browned, grilled, raw, deep fried, and dryed.
"I, Esnodul, hate him. Stronger, is he."
His voice was muffled, his mouth full of meat.
"It's not strength you need, but it's wit, you see."
"And if you don't have that, you'll be my treat.
So explain, please, why you're not fit to eat.
Oh, it's not 'gainst you," Our faces turned pale,
"Just, Oszom will be free, if you dwarves fail."
"I am the best bard this planet has had"
I walked from the crew, my mandolin held,
"Some wear armor, but in music, I'm clad."
"Every man, goblin, elf, dwarf," I yelled
"Could I make sing." Esnodul was compelled.
"If I had not said so, I'd make you sing.
In the land of music, I am the king."
Esnodul laughed, "You're arrogant, short friend."
"I could make a kobold sing." I boasted.
"YOU LIE AGAIN, AND IT WILL BE YOUR END!"
"I WILL HAVE YOU SO TORTURED AND TOASTED,
YOUR FRIENDS PUT ON STICKS, I'LL HAVE THEM ROASTED!
I've been here forever. I've walked the earth.
If kobolds can sing, than gold has no worth!"
"Bring me a kobold." I was angry too.
"All creatures have music, that is a fact."
I was so bold I had startled my crew.
"GOBULE!" He yelled, goblins started to act.
They brought one for me to show them my tact.
Plucked my mandolin, I started to play,
Just as the night started turning to day.
So I started to play
And I started to pray
For the kobold and me,
So we could be set free.
Oh, I started to play. (http://min.us/lXiVRYqnUtUXV)
I sang:
One day soon, I will find gold.
I will find gold, I will find gold.
One day soon, Before I get too old.
Before I'm too old, before I'm too old.
But I am stuck in this cage, what's wrong with me?
I will find it I will be free!
One day soon, I will find gold.
I will find gold, I will find gold.
And I will find a girl to live with me.
To live with me, to live with me.
And we'll be happy here by the sea.
Here by the sea, here by the sea.
One day soon, oh yes it will be soon!
I will find gold! She, I will hold!
....
I finished the tune, and Esnodul smiled.
I was a bafoon! Yet the kobold riled.
He made such strange sound, he had tried to speak.
Then Esnodul frowned. His voice was so weak,
But our little friend, so sad in his jail
So near to his end, let out a long wail.
I started the note, and I heard the song
The way it was wrote. Esnodur was wrong!
"I would not say that he sang all too nicely,
But, yes, he did sing. I think you'll succeed.
Just how did you know he would, precisely?"
"I will tell you if you let him be freed."
He was, and that kobold ran with such speed.
"We went up towards Shrak with some whalers.
Did you know that there are kobold sailors?"
"The one place in the world I'll never be,"
Said Esnodur, as he smiled with defeat,
"Is that watery hell they call the sea."
"So, my good bard, your crew shall I not eat.
You took my test, and my test have you beat.
Here is my own amulet as your prize:
When you wear it, our men are allies."
"When you succeed, come back to me and tell.
I want to know how you destroyed Oszom.
I want him prisoner in his home, hell."
So I lead my crew, with sweat in my palm,
The sun's gloden rays soothed our skin like balm.
We were close to the end. Not long, I knew.
Laughed when I saw the faces of my crew!
Reeeeallly long one for you guys today. That song uses a "kobold scale" as I just called it. It's a minor pentatonic with a #4th. So yeah.
Also, I know it's a bit rough. I am a musician, but I just cannot use these programs. I can't find the right drums or figure out how I should start it. Also there's a note that's a bit off in there. It's ok, it didn't take long to make. It's just what I thought Kobold music would sound like, like a mix between a shanty and something in a cave.
Goblon is like "better than mud" because the mud is subordinate (to goblins). Gobule is like "mud joke" because it's less useful than mud. Goblin and Kobold, I believe, have the same roots, so it makes sense that they're similar in Goblin too.
Because I don't think Goblins would make the word for another race out of their own words, I just used the sounds they often use. I was sad to see that they don't use w, v, or f at all in the language files, but I still made it sound close enough to Germanic pronunciations (because Dwarf is english, and Zwerg is German and Dværg is Danish, and they all sound different. The only way you'd know they're all germanic is looking at how they're built and how language has changed). Thusly, Zuarng is Dwarf. "Ng" is one of the most common Goblin sounds, so I use it to replace the typical "G" of Dwarf in other languages. The "U" functions as the "W." "Z" is like in German, but I don't say it the same. More like an English Z.
I really hate to say it, but soon we have to make a decision. Should I stop the BCB where it ends, or should I keep it going after the actually brewery part is over.
Having introduced a character like Esnodur, who tells the crew to come back to him after they've won, I almost want to do that (except you know, not exactly like that.). This could be, however crazy it may sound, the first "Chapter" or maybe "story" would work better. I just don't feel I've had enough of the characters. I don't think I'll have enough time to grow things with Libash being an elfy elf dwarf, the Bard's sword being something that has a bit of meaning (not magical, just meaningful. A symbol, per se), and I don't think I have enough for more stuff with Morül and Lokum disagreeing (which they'll do a lot, because Morül is the leader yet Lokum uses the map. Who really leads the group around?), more with Vath and his badassery. Hell I mentioned that Vath liked to be alone. Yes, I did that with the Hvarfafeigr (he would run away and come back a couple days later), but it's just not enough.
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"That's it. I'm done. I'm done! This is so dumb!"
Morül dropped his things and started to walk.
"What are we looking for?" He swigged the rum.
"What are we doing? We live 'neath a rock!
We're made to drink booze and love an old sock!
Yet we just made friends with goblins! For real?
I'm done. This is dumb. You know how I feel!"
"Maybe it's true." Midor also lost hope.
They started to leave, maybe they were right.
We were so close, yet failed. I could not cope.
Damor broke a bolt and aimed down his sight,
He aimed at Morül and let it take flight.
The bolt bounced off his armor, still it hurt.
Morül turned and pushed Damor in the dirt.
"You're a coward, Morül." Calmly he said,
"The bard saved us all, and this is your thanks?
Without him, you know, you would have never led."
"I was in jail, I had stolen from banks.
If it weren't for him, I'd be cutting planks."
Damor was lying, but only I'd known.
And none could tell otherwise from his tone.
"Where were you, Morül?" He then asked of him.
"You're a soldier for the Outgibing Guard.
Don't you know that they were ripped limb from limb?"
Morül looked down at the ground, long and hard.
"I guess you are right. I should thank our bard."
Midor and Morül walked back to the crew.
"The reason I live is because of you."
"But that still doesn't make up for that swine.
We could have proved our worth without such risk.
One more time, and you've really crossed the line."
The sun was golden and the wind did whisk.
With the stress we'd just had, our pace was brisk.
In the warm shade of the mountain, it sat,
Three months had past, we were at the Black Cat.
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Yeah haven't been so active. Stuffs and stuff. This one is going to be short, because I don't have much time and I want to set up the Oszom part so that I don't have any extra stuff before it. I don't have much time, but I will get this thing done.
[Snippet]
I knew where Oszom laid, beneath, down deep.
A bust of Thistun which stood by the graves
Marked the stone tomb where the demon did sleep.
We worked for days like groveling slaves.
The Cat was darker than the deepest caves,
Yet we worked, non stop, without complaints.
With found adamantine we made constraints.
The Cat looked the same as when I had left,
Tall, brown, tired, like an old abandoned house.
Even if it had wealth, there'd be no theft,
For the Cat was like a dejected spouse.
The only things living there were bird and mouse.
Many knew dwarves who had lived there before,
But no one went back to open its door.
After a week we were finally done.
He may have been aware we were here,
But he made no noise. No scratches, not one.
That he was waiting for us was our fear,
Our limbs would he pluck, our skin would he sear.
We dug through the ground and saw the fire lord,
Sleeping and sprawed. In his chest was the sword.
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I don't like posting without content, but I'm just here to say that I wont be able to give the ending for two weeks, because I gotta go on a work trip and wont have my computer with me. Sorry :\
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So yeah a bunch of IRL life shit has been keeping me away. Mostly my job, but other things too.
We had not known if Oszom was awake
We creeped into the chamber, without noise.
It was warm enough there for bread to bake.
"So then," Morül whispered, "ye' ready, boys?"
Even half-dead, Oszom had striking poise.
We brought the adamantine to his limbs,
There, if he should wake to the mums and mims.
He didn't. Not dead, but he showed no life.
So we tightened his restraints to be sure,
But even then he did not move or strife.
So we set up everything; still no stir.
The bright blue metal singed his blood stained fur.
There was one thing left for us to set up,
And it, for sure, would make Oszom get up.
One chain remained, hung around the lever,
I brought it toward the sword, the last touch.
But then I slipped the cuff on the cleaver.
It pulled the blade for but a bit, not much,
Yet the blade burned the demon bat as such.
Two dwarves pulled each wing, one each leg of he,
Morül held the neck down, what's left was me.
Why are you here?
If not for booze and beer?
When I'm in jail,
You needn't knock for ale.
You want the blade
From the home in the shade?
You wont succeed,
And soon I shall be freed.
Oszom pulled back so hard he ripped his wing,
But he couldn't get free, the chains were strong.
O! To see dwarves hold back the demon king!
The drop to hell from there was very long.
Magma is safe when it's where you belong,
If Oszom fell back, he'd be fall back to hell
But we would make sure that there he'd not dwell.
Well, you've got me,
You've sneaked up and caught me.
Your chains are tough,
But is it all enough?
You, my young bard,
It's you who's tried so hard?
I'm impressed, yes,
You've had Esnodur bless.
But what now, friend-"
To your hell you I'll send!
Relax, sit down!
I dare you, you damned clown!
I? A joker?
Do you bluff in poker?
You've got two pair,
Maybe even more there,
You've got one card
Which I can't see, my bard.
The switch's the game
What beats the god of flame?
Tokxe smunstu,
Asmba zadxe rustu...
I've got a straight
Let's end this game of fate.
Oszom fell back into the whole behind,
The gold sword flew out and the lever swung.
Oszom saw what we dwarves had had in mind.
He would have been all safe where he had sprung,
But to a full house was that lever strung.
Most literally, for soon all was filled,
By the water in the stills, so well chilled.
"Hold on!" Morül yelled as water surged through,
and down to hell, where it'd be embraced.
Oszom was finished, and he'd had no clue.
It's not that he'd drown or be smashed to paste.
He fell in magma and would be encased.
If he hadn't ripped his wings, he could fly,
But he could not, and in stone he would die.
It pulsed by, fast, frozen. It all worked great.
The stills were filled to the brim, just as planned,
The lever opened every floodgate.
And so ended the demon: good and grand.
A nightmare was lifted from that dead land.
Dwarves are warriors who pride their moral,
But they know traps end faster a quarrel.
After the water slowed down to a halt,
I picked up the sword and so brought it back.
We left that hole, we left and locked that vault.
We'd gone up north and peered deep into Shrak,
All just to make the Cat once again Black,
Though the old Cat was now also a sink,
Like those before, it was time for a drink.
OKAY DOKAY THEN.
Other shit happened while I was writing, so that's why it took so many hours, but whatever.
That's it.
Yep.
Zaneg's floodgates were linked to a lever which was connected to Oszom which he pulled as he jumped down to hell. The water obsidianized him because he landed in magma to avoid dying from the fall.
I have a second story planned. It'll be just as long. And it will also have sections about the places and history of where the crew goes, so it would fit in the same way with the history of the black cat before the crew started their thing (as in, Äs and Etur, Thistun, Kun and Ator, Zaneg history stuff, but with another place.)
The story is going to be different, but many of the things that seemed to be important in this one (like the sword that the Bard finds and which was made by elf slaves), that stuff is going to be where it leads off from. So if you're worried that I'll just be beating a dead jumping shark, then yeah I don't think I will. It will be a different story, but it's not going to be completely separate. Hell, maybe Oszom will play a part in it.
But first I need to have a drink. I know that Pan has read this, but I don't know anybody else who has. I've seen a couple PTW posts, but that doesn't mean that they actually read anything.
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I like doing this too much, so I'm going to keep going. Keep in mind that, though there are the same characters (mainly the crew of 8 dwarves, Esnodur, and Oszom - who will play a roll, but not like a living character would), it is separate. Because when I wrote the first parts of the BCB, they described the history of the brewery, I'm doing that now with a location that - though not as centeral to the story as the brewery - is important. Other locations too, because I want them to go some other places.
Iño'slo Ono'sluh, The Ill Tower on the Seashore, pt 1
"So then, where does that leave us?
Fate's threads weave us together as we stand apart,
Yet we had no choice in anything from the start.
So then, where does fate leave us?"
Ramet let the apple fall.
The small red ball, not all red nor round, made no sound
As it rested, sleeping, on the sandy shore's ground.
They were doldrums fore the squall.
"There's not enough for the back,
It's stone we lack. Granite is, here, in short supply,
Not to mention we're running out of the blue dye.
It is still safe from attack."
"And who will come from back there?
Sometimes, I swear, you forget that it's we with ships.
We are safe, I've heard enough of your silly quips.
And how thin? Are you aware?"
"Thicker than a dinghy's girth.
For what it's worth, I suppose it is still quite thick.
Though I must say there is one spot that's short a brick,
Which lays just below the earth."
This certain spot lay in the base,
The sea's embrace kept it from the sun's beating glare.
A look of disregard that cooked the salty air.
The water covered the place.
The paint hid it from afar.
Though any star behind it too, would stay unseen.
It cost more than equal weight's gold, that navy sheen.
The tower was the sky's scar.
So yeah I'm keepin it goin. I don't know what the hell that was for a rhyming scheme, but because the parts in the first thing don't have the same rhyming scheme as the story parts, I don't think this has to have the Rhyme Royal thing yet. It's not too long, but I still don't know how to start it.
Ramet isn't an important character, for the Ill Tower on the Seashore in the story is going to be much longer after when it was built. Ramet is just the human king who was around at the time. He's about as important as Ator or Etur, who served as plot devices, but still are brought up now and then. I'll talk more about him later.
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This is awesome. You draw quite well, too. Keep at it!
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Psst.
Pssssst.
366 stanzas.
somewhere between 1800 and 2500 lines.
Psssssssssst.
at 40 lines a page, that's somewhere between 45 and 62 pages.
Is it epic yet?
If I do another 366 stanzas?
plz can I has epoch statiz
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I'd update, but I can't for about a week because Karneval. Goin to Cologne for a couple days (though I go there practically every other week already.)
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I'm sick today and don't have much to do. I feel like shit, but I had a pretty baller time so it's alright. [Insert something relatively sexual here.]
I'm not well enough to do a full piece, but I'll put something in.
The top stood above the clouds.
The humans, proud of their sea-side stone creation,
Held their ground for many years at that location,
But they'd appease goblin crowds.
They were pushed to western isles
Hundreds of miles from where they once had complete rule.
And although humans had ships, a powerful tool,
Goblins defended with smiles.
So then how did then men lose?
One can't excuse that the goblins were thousands strong,
For with such a fort, not much at all can go wrong.
Ramet's right hand held a ruse.
He, a snitch and a liar,
Ramet's friar stood by and whispered in his ear.
He inspired opulence and wastefulness and fear,
And to dig to hell's fire.
Esnodur came from within,
A mighty din resonated throughout the stones.
He let goblins as he sucked on human bones.
It became a place of sin.
An apple tree grew outside,
Close to the tide, but out of reach from the sea's waves.
A relic of Ramet and his sailors - now slaves -
An old testiment to pride.
The way I think of this place is like a dead wasteland that goes right to the sea. It's sandy, but it's not a beach or a typical desert. More like a badlands that hugs the ocean. For whatever reason, there are no plant life other than the apple tree.
The tower is extremely tall. The bottom is a deep blue like the sea, but as it gets taller and they started running out of paint, it gets lighter like the sky. It's more grey than blue at that point, because granite is grey. It's extremely wide, let's say 100 meters, only because the walls are silly thick themselves. The entire back is thinner, but it's also still really thick (I said a dinghy's girth, but that's probably a bit too big so that Ramet was pleased). The one spot in the back that's thin I'd still say is around a meter thick, so a cannon ball is still useless.
But I wouldn't talk about that if I didn't want the tower to fall :)
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Again here to say that no update today. I'm still sick, but after working I'm too tired really to get much out.
After having all of that said,
Maybe I should go move this thread.
I don't get much response,
And just my nonchalance
Keeps this damn thing from being dead.
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Most people are probably in awe and speechless from the sheer magnificence of this ;)
Though in all seriousness, I actually am not too sure what to say, other than tell you how great it is. So, personally, I just stalk this.
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I'm going to move this thread as a test to the other forum. If it doesn't do anything more, than I'll put it back here because I find here more fitting.
Esnodur was for them the best,
I don't just jest when I say for dwarves he'd be good.
Though he ate his soldiers and fingers, he still stood,
And fought harder than the rest.
"Bring me more wine and more swine,
For all is fine. What we have here's the strongest fort,
We'll be here for ages! For aeons! Guffaw! snort!
We'll stay till the stars align!
But that wasn't foreshadow,
Truly, there's no way they could have ever been moved
A million man siege with steel would've only proved
That the place could take a blow.
Esnodur watched time go by.
Fish swim, birds fly, and demons live forever,
But that isn't to say his plan wasn't clever,
He would just let the world die.
So the tower aged for years.
The clouds' fresh tears wet the paint, and so it grew gray.
The rays of the sun's hot gaze dried the paint away.
Thus the design became smears.
I have a really bad migrane and am gonna stop here after a couple again. I'll finish up this little bit in the next one, and then I'll start the next little bit too (or maybe I'll just go right into it and do the next little history bit as it comes up) I don't know.
I find it funny how what I called a chapter back when I started is now a "little history bit." Weee I've written a lot.
EDIT: When I get better, which should be soon, I AM going to give a full length update. I feel like I'm lagging behind, but I WILL give a real full length section.
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"So then, where does that leave us?
Time can't greave us when we can't feel her passing through,
Though through new things we see change and we age, we do.
So then, where does time leave us?"
The tower wasn't actually present in this world when I made the Brewery, but it was the megaproject from another game. The walls were granite with cobaltite on the very outside. At somewhere around 10 levels, I just completely ran out of cobaltite and had to use the granite that was present. At some point I was sieged and just lost for whatever reason and thus the Goblins took it. I think the walls were only two blocks thick. It was a fun project, but I didn't ever get it large enough. Probably only around 20 levels total. It wasn't that big. It didn't have the weak spot either, it just had a bridge that didn't close properly :(.
So I'm going to just keep going with the story and I'll introduce the other history bits as the Bard (for whom we still have no name) discovers/feels like telling them.
Straight off we went to the nearest tavern:
The one in which we met the whaler crew,
A little place called just "Cañi's Cavern"
But the town around looked spackled and new.
Hung banners and spanners and flags, all blue.
Human royalty must be in an inn
We thought to tell them just where we have been.
It was the princess who was travelling
No king or queen or duke or lord or count.
Something big surely was unraveling.
A man brought us to the lass to recount.
She, found by goblins of extreme amount,
Was left alive due to midgets of wit.
She was extremely pleased, she did admit.
While the other dwarves went back to the bar,
Morül and I stayed to tell the sweet dame
Of our long journey and just who we are.
Morül, strange enough, didn't seem the same.
I realized quick what was true his aim.
He'd known her before and had fallen then.
He was in love with the princess of men.
Her glances back said I was unneeded,
So I too went back for a bit of wine.
I'm not sure what thereafter proceeded.
The next day the weather was fast divine,
And painful, for the sun shine was malign.
But we packed up our stuff for our next trip.
To beat the headaches, we all took a sip.
"So then. Where we goin?" All of us asked.
"We are going somewhere, dwarves, are we not?
At least with seeing the pig are we tasked."
"Sure, but that's it." Morül did this a lot
He'd say he was out, then Vath would get hot,
Then Damor would tie us back together.
It always hurt, moreso with that weather.
Not too much, but I'm done for now. I'm still a bit under the weather. I have a feeling that I'm going to get really sick pretty soon due to being with somebody with some really bad cough. Maybe not, but I don't know.
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This is spectacular - keep up the amazing work! You should consider bundling it together at some point, hell, I might buy it if you made a book (and you keep it up, as formerly-tacitly assumed).
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Yeah, I was planning on bundling it up and doing some general editing relatively soon because I have friends who wanted to read it and I didn't feel like just sending them the link.
Thank you very much, though. It means a lot to me when people like what I do.
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Man, I'm really sorry I haven't had the time. Just got bogged down from work after having not worked for a long time. I like to think I update this more than sporadically, like I used to, but it's just hard. I will update more than weekends.
I promise.
But I just can't tonight: I'm going to a party.
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Esnodur's Hunger
The path ahead stayed for us strangely clear,
As in, not one thing wanted us all dead.
On a straight road, we let old Lokum steer.
Eyes squinted, slowly sighing, and bowed head,
On Thuveg's head-helping biscuits we fed.
After two weeks we smelt the salty air.
Within two more we saw it standing there.
I'm not sure how humans could build the thing.
It was as large as a small mountain hall.
I supose that's what they'll do for a king.
There were goblins about, but that's not all,
They were more than just guards guarding a wall.
Confident, we strolled to the fort's one door,
The only port of the fort on the shore.
We're taken in as soon as we were found,
But they had caught a glimpse of the token,
Thusly we were the most loved dwarves around.
Not with Esnodur, though, had we spoken.
It was fine though, no promises broken.
Instead we were brought to a king of sort,
Alone after a session in his court.
"Who might you be? Why should I let you live?"
His voice was high pitched and very whiny.
We told him of the info we would give.
His eyes looked at us, glossy and tiny
Beady and black and evil and shiny.
"You are looking for the pig, I take it?
Very well, but have fear when you wake it."
And so we were led to the deepest room,
Black but for the blood and the torches' flare.
Nothing I had seen had carried more gloom.
Esnodur shot us a long painful glare,
Though it was none, it was an empty stare.
His eyelids were gone along with his limbs.
I'm glad the chamber was shrouded in dims.
He gurgled out a laugh like none I'd heard.
"So you won, my bard. I knew you'd do it.
Can you do me just one favor?" He slurred.
I said I could, but I wouldn't, had I knew it.
I puke in my mouth when I construe it.
He was a demon but I was surprised
At the disgusting thing he had advised.
Yeah. Enough for now. Esnodur isn't going to live. Not like that's a bad thing, he /is/ a demon. The next part is going to be a little unsettling, I presume. Esnodur is related with eating and hunger. He's been tied up and held in a chamber without any way to feed himself, as he was probably the one who took off his own arms and legs (for food).
I think you can guess what his favor is.
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If you don't like the idea of autocannibalism, just know that this whiny goblin is a really bad dude whom you should hate. He's the antagonist, and for
(https://i.canvasugc.com/ugc/original/f3ba33e70dbc681dd2cb041e22aba22cc6b4c5b7.jpg)
I took some old, hard bread out of my bag,
Before I could give it, a scathing noise:
The whiny goblin on a fowl stag.
"Please do exactly what he said, my boys.
You wouldn't keep him from what he enjoys?
Ok, my dwarvies, then do it or die,
I'm not touching him, no, no, no, not I."
I took out a knife,
To take way his life,
But not so that he would starve
With one long clean cut,
I opened his gut,
And his entrails did I carve
The young bard is dead,
What went through my head,
O, the young bard in me died
He begged for soom food
And so you conclude,
He ate what was once inside
"Kill him, dwarf!" He said,
As the pig had pled,
And I know not what to do.
I cut through his skull
And so he died full,
At the disgust of my crew.
The goblin guffawed with glee at the sight,
While my dwarven peers were shaking with fear
At my supposedly horrible spite.
"My bard, my friend..." Words rang in my ear,
But to me they were anything but clear.
"You didn't even hesitate nor flinch!
You took him down as if it were a cinch!"
"Well done, my son, now leave here forever."
That foul goblin looked down at us grinning,
His black beedy eyes ever so clever.
Next thing I know my head was still spinning,
A tonic with rum was Lokum thinning
Esnodur's symbol was gone from my chest,
But my damned sword cooked through my hand, at best.
I was afraid I'd never play a song,
For I could not move my palm without pain.
Yet I'm here today, so I'm gladly wrong.
The hurt was most anything but mundane,
And to this day I have the blackened stain.
The goblin was no friend of the late boar,
He had just defeated him in a war.
The army destoyed by ghosts up at Shrak
They were his troops, but his forces were great.
They made short work of the demon's attack.
"I'm sorry that you have had such a fate.
Please, though, for me, hang in there, training mate."
Morül helped me get up off of the ground.
I was glad to see just my friends around.
I could go on, but that's enogh for now. Going back to the whole character development stuff too, because we haven't heard anything from the crew (excluding Morül, who IS the leader). I'd like to go more into the other characters, because you can't really have a party without knowing what the hell they're doing. I like where this is going though. I like that the bard, who started out relatively innocent, is now becoming sort of a troubled fellow. He's not a fighter, but he's clearly got no limit when it comes to things like that.
As to why the sword burned his hand? Yeah well it's a special sword and that'll be gone into much more detail later. I've mentioned its peculiarity multiple times, but this is the first time he's killed anything with it (and also the first time we've seen a demon die).
Now I know that in Dwarf Fortress there's never just one demon coming out of hell, but I don't really like that mechanic. I feel like a demon is supposed to be more something along the lines of a god. Not a god, as he doesn't have any divine powers, but somebody who has extreme influence. A demon, in my mind, gets people to let them out by planting ideas in their heads. When the demon is released, no more come out. Just that one. This demon has a couple features that define him: Esnodur's being hunger and gluttony - which is why he died, Oszom being something along the lines of fire and insidiousness. Clearly Oszom was a more powerful demon, as a flaming jerk is more powerful than a fat ass who's always hungry.
There aren't more demons in my tale, however. Esnodur and Oszom were it. Both of them are dead, but neither of them are out of the story. Esnodur was the leader of one goblin civ and Oszom was the leader-to-be of the one that now owns the tower. Now were going to be going to some other civs, such as the elves (bluuuuh elves hippies bluhuhuhuh) and the humans (bluuuuh humans with ships huuhuhuhuhuh).
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oh god I just realized how much of a twisted freak Esnodur was. I mean. Ew.
He's a pig who loves his own flesh so much that he gets pleasure out of chewing on his fingers. He eats like a pig, yes, but he also eats pigs. I mean, he eats his own arms and legs and leaves himself stranded in a chamber because he has now no way of moving. Sure, he would have died there, but I mean yuck. And then the whiny goblin gets pleasure out of getting the bard to help the sorry sod to eat himself to death.
I don't think Demons are sane people
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Well, this is goddamn great. I would read the whole thing, but at this point it's more like a book than anything, and I'm sure its not socially acceptable to sit in front of a computer all day.
Any way, just letting you know this is one immence feat of badassery. You might even be able to get this published. I hope you do, this deserves all the attention it can get.
Keep up the good work guy.
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I'm not really looking for publishing. If I could, then that'd be wonderful, but I'm not really keen on selling things like this. I don't know. I was once a carpenter, and a damned good one, but I couldn't continue making art because it felt too much like a job. Maybe ipso-facto, but I like to think that my only goal is the hall of legends.
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Holycrap this is awesome.
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"But now I go. There's no point in staying.
So goblins kill goblins, why should we care?
You know there's logic in what I'm saying."
"You're right, Morül." I said with a cold stare
"Let's go back home. Let's go alone somewhere,
Somewhere alone. I need to be alone."
So I set out, destination unknown.
I whistled with the soft wind in the trees.
A minstrel was made to travel as so,
With the company of just leaves in the breeze.
The warm breath of air is what I'd follow,
I'd make coin for an occasional show.
And that's what I did for months, so it seemed,
And after a while again my smile had gleamed.
I'd gladly be done with soldiers and swords,
And blood and death and swine and blades and hate
And most of all the many goblin hordes.
Maybe Morül was right, it was my fate,
For this wasn't the end, without debate.
No, this story's end wasn't over, not quite
I doubt I would say the end was in sight.
I found that old town that stood by the sea
And stayed in the old bar for one month more
Playing my songs for the humans for free.
That is, 'til one day a knock on the door
I was surprised at who it was: Damor,
Followed by the horns of the human's king
And my, I remember just how they'd ring.
"BARD!" Damor shouted as we did embrace
"We need your help, how we need you, my friend!
They took the princess to that goblin place!"
The king, in royal garbs, came to attend.
"Gold if you find her, but that will depend
If she is alive when she has been freed.
Worry not, I'll give you all that you need."
Done for now. I know it's not satisfactory, but I needed a way to bring the princess back into the story for Morül to be willing to lead again, and I needed a way to show that Damor ties the group together (his name means something like rope, so I've been planning him to do such things for a while). Also, I needed a way for the king to give the bard any help the bard needed, because he'll need something to bring down the tower...
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Yeah yeah I know it's been a while. I had my birthday, and so there were festivities and stuff. Just a lot of stuffy stuff too. I'm a sort of minimalist when it comes to things, so naturally I don't like filler. If there have been filler-like things in here, then I apologize, but a lot of it is going to come around (just like Zaneg and the water stuffs, and how that same problem was used to kill Oszom). Besides, have you ever read the Odyssey? There's a lot of just "UHR WE'RE SAILING UOPS A MONSTSRERER" sort of thing. Can't blame it, but one could take out a lot of stuff and have it be a comprehensible story.
One of the reasons I write so seldom is because I can't really focus on one story at a time. There are currently two reasons I go on the internet (excluding facebook/email sort of things), this being the first and a forum game on another forum being the other. Sometimes I need to think about the story going on in the forum game for a while and take a break from dwarves, then sometimes I need to do dwarfy things and take a break from robots.
I hadn't thought too much of what he said,
Yet waiting just outside were my old friends.
Not Morül, who was away on a stead.
I didn't know how to change his old trends -
We would not want him to quit in the bends.
Damor assured me that all would be fine.
That night we would drink and party and dine.
The next morning we got ready to leave.
His name wasn't mentioned at all that day.
I hadn't seen it yet, I was naive.
As we packed, something far out in the bay -
A ship came closer and docked at the quay.
To my surprise it was none but Morül,
In General's Clothes: gold buttons on red wool.
"Bard, when I heard the princess was taken,
I knew just what I needed to do.
Let's play jenga and avenge that bacon."
"The first thing was to come looking for you.
Without our bard, what would be this old crew?
I told the king of our journey so far.
Made me a general, and you quite the star."
"So then what will we do?" I asked him slow.
"I'll show you what we do." Libash joined in.
He ran and fell a tree with just one blow.
"That. Just closer to them. An elven sin
Must get their attention, and so wherein
We can ask them about what this sword does,
Or at least why Bard's hand was as it was."
"Then we plan how to take down the tower"
"There's a weakness, dwarves, and they know it not."
The king looked as if he had a glower.
And so we learned about the one weak spot,
But with problems would we surely be fraught.
We thanked the man, packed, and went once again.
I was starting to like this kingdom of men.
That's all for today. I know it sounds silly that to get the Elves' information the dwarves would insult them, but then again they're dwarves and they don't like elves, and I need a little confrontation to get some more stuffs out of the way. Character dev stuffs - you know the type. In recent we've heard very little about Midor and Thuveg and Vath and Lokum. Don't worry, though. The first three will really shine in a later bit, especially Midor, whom I haven't talked at all about. Lokum I don't know. I mean, it's not very hard to work him into the story, but he's not really important for anything in this second part (he will be in the third part, because I've decided that I'd like three parts).
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I'm sorry for the lack of updates. My job has been getting really time consuming and excuses and stuff. I just don't put this at the top of my list of things to do. When I get back into my dwarf fortress kick you can expect a lot more updates, but I don't know when dwarves will interest me again. Might be next week, might be next month. At latest it will be when my name comes up for murder machines.
We travelled without knowledge of the elves.
They're elves. What would you expect from such trash?
We kill their traders, they keep to themselves!
Now and again a large tree would come crash
And we'd look out for elves, looking all brash.
Libash's fingers were plain plastered in sap
We remembered we'd a dwarf with a map.
"LOKUM, my old blind bat of a spear-er
TEEEEEELL me where we might find ourselves right now!
AND WOULD YOU tell me how to get nearer?"
"Stop talkin like that, you miserable cow!
You're freakin me out, and I don't know how.
So, Libash, I'll tell you where to we want.
Just don't speak like that, you sound like my aunt."
Lokum took out all his maps and studied,
He didn't see that they were upside down.
Vath kicked the fool and the maps got muddied.
"WE'RE NEVER GETTING HOME!" Vath wore a frown.
He proceeded to scream to all around.
Apparently we were already close,
Or Vath's screams were simply very verbose,
Because after a straight minute or two,
Tree huggers themselves riding unicorns
Told us to shut up or they'd make dwarf stew.
"HA HA! Your horse's head has a cock-horn!
AND YOU LOOK DUMB TOO, YOU MEASLY LOW BORN!"
We laughed at the silliness of the knight,
Knowing their army couldn't put up a fight.
"Turn yourselves in and you wont have to die.
You've insulted the prince's mount, small one.
You're so weak that it makes me almost cry."
Vath, already hot, got hot as the sun.
"Here's a mount, tree-lover" he said and spun.
He punched the dumb horse, which fell to the mud,
Where he ripped off its horn, covered in blood.
Before the elf could draw his wooden stick
Midor brought his huge mace to his belly
With such force it could have shattered a brick.
Of course, elves aren't bricks, but instead jelly,
Or something like that, often more smelly.
The oak armor shot splinters all about,
While he had all the wind in him blown out.
I had fun with this one. I'm glad we finally picked up the pace again. It's easy to write yourself into a boring situation, but it's hard to write yourself out because you don't have any drive to do it. Now that I can give the dudes like Midor and Thuveg and Vath and Lokum and Libash and Damor (everybody but the bard and Morül, who've had pretty centeral roles from the get-go) more things to do, I think it'll be more fun. I like the way Vath is doing. I don't know why, but he's sort of my favorite. When I started I wanted everyone to have a different weapon. Morül has a sword, Thuveg a hammer, Midor a mace, Lokum a spear, Damor a crossbow, Libash an ax, but then Vath doesn't have a weapon. There are only so many Vanilla weapons for dwarves, and there weren't enough for Vath. I was planning on making him the half blood (like, half goblin) and not Libash, and then I would give him a whip, but I just didn't think that was as badass as an unarmed badass would be. Then, as I was doing some research on nordic axes (specifically bearded axes, because I plan on making one relatively soon), I somehow drifted to berserkers, and realized that that would be really cool. Sure, it means that Vath will carry a spear around (Achem, a unicorn-"cockhorn"-spear), but if anybody is going to be killed (which I don't know yet if anybody will be, probably not. I wouldn't want to kill one dwarf without killing more than one), it'd probably be Lokum.
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Heh. Nice unicorn punch.
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I've been getting really sick lately and haven't been able to do any writing. I almost had to go to the hospital after puking a couple times without warning (which is, for me, about as common as growing six fingers on each hand). It's slowly getting better, but I'm still not really up for writing. I haven't done anything for the past two weeks really.
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Well, good luck with getting better. You write pretty damn good poetry and it'd be a Shane for it to all go to waste now.
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No worries. I'm not gonna let that happen. I've worked too hard to get into the hall of fame to give up now. But first, I need a cup of coffee...
Pot is empty...
I'm too lazy to make a new pot.
Where were we? Holy shit. Has it been so long? I thought we were much farther then this.
We stripped him bare and asked to start lead.
Knowing he'd have some tricks planned ahead,
We were extremely careful and payed heed.
I kid. The crew wanted danger instead.
Since elves stay pure by all being inbred,
They're weak and sick and have no common sense
They mix up sweetbread with a strong defence.
Our prisoner was the dumbest of all!
He didn't even try to get us killed;
He just lead us straight to the entrance hall.
Sure, it was what we had really willed,
But we knew not army from baker's guild.
We were then ushered to the elven queen.
Some old hag who'd claimed she had us forseen.
"Let him go and I'll tell you your reason
For coming uninvited to my home."
With those words she'd be accused of treason.
It was pretty here, with courtyards of brome,
Treehouses galore, all topped with a dome.
The birds were singing and sun was shining.
We let the sap go, he started whining.
"They killed my unicorn! They killed my steed!"
The old hag didn't seem very amused,
But it was funny to see the kid plead.
"Typical. You brutes had this one abused.
These bad deads, however, can be excused.
I can see one of you is an elf-mutt.
You are here to find your parent, right?" "WHAT?
I wouldn't give rotten eggs to find mum!
I ALREADY KNOW WHERE SHE IS! HA! You wench.
And I never thought one could be so dumb."
Libash went too far, we threw in the wrench.
But not before he mentioned elves and stench.
I stepped forward and raised up my burnt hand.
"All of you here are under my command."
"And who are you? A bard? Among fighters?"
The queen looked perplexed. Clearly no forsight.
"Or are you just a band of armed writers?"
I smiled "Yes, I suppose I like to write.
Yet with this is how I prefer to fight"
Smoothly I slid out the strange metal blade,
But they couldn't see it due to the shade.
Eh. Enough for now. I really want some coffee and I need to take a shower. Maybe I'll write more today. I feel bad for letting it stagnate right there. This is sort of a slow part in the story. I mean, I'm not going to plain kill the elves. I like writing for characters who are just sort of "broken." An elven queen who claims to be able to see into the future but can't? Yes. Having a bunch of srs characters in a story that is being told by a guy who isn't extremely humble (The Bard can be pretty cocky at times) is just a bit out of place. It's easy to forget that you're writing for a world that doesn't have boundaries, and while everything doesn't have to be silly, it can be ridiculous and fit. Being one of my main inspirations, I often think of the Odyssey. When Ulysses travels to Aeaea and Circe turns his crew into swine, it's not really a funny situation, but it's ridiculous. I like that scene.
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You are pretty damned good at this poetry thing.
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Heh thanks. Funny, I've been putting off writing because of how far behind I am with it. Catch 22 right there. I would have written some last weekend, but if I told you what happened you probably wouldn't believe me. Eh, whatever. I'm not sure what happened last night, but I got home okay, so with bloody knees and a hangover, let's do this!
"Yes, most of us like to fight with a knife.
Steel ones are tasteless, but that's not my call.
It is just as good at taking a life."
I stepped forward and showed it to them all.
Did she know or did queen tried to stall?
I walked past the guards stared the queen down.
Close enough to smell her flowery gown.
"Oh, this isn't just a knife, you well know
I can see it in your eyes, it's so clear!
Tell me what it is and I'll spare you woe."
"Give that to me." She squirmed and squeeled with fear
"We need it to honor our dead, you hear?"
"No, you don't" My gaze burned holes through her pride.
"YOU BRUTES KNOW NOT OF WOE FOR THOSE WHO DIED!"
"YOU KILL YOUR OWN PETS! FOR FUN! YOU MAKE COATS!
GIVE ME THAT SWORD!" She was screaming quite loud.
The pet-coat remark seemed to get Vath's goat.
He trudged right past the guards and, strangely, bowed,
Slapped her so hard spit and blood formed a cloud,
Then bent down to her ear, black, blue, and red.
"We're keeping the sword now." He kindly said.
The guards started to attack, as guards should,
But the elf queen yelled out for them to stop.
She said they'd be embarassed, and they would.
Their nice clothes would be used simply to sop
The blood, and their long hair: O but a mop.
The queen invited us to stay for the night
As forgiveness, and the crew said "all right."
I will try really hard to move things along. That means more than just an update every weekend or every other weekend. Seeing as I've basically got the entire story planned until the end of the entire thing, it might go quicker. Maybe not though. Things change. The story has taken directions I haven't planned multiple times.
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Bleuhebluebluhebeuh so much for updating on wednesday. Life always seems to be interesting at the most inconvenient times. Also I really didn't want to put that ending there. Beluhebluhebluehbluehb. I wanted to write something else but I was too lazy. Well I'm not going to edit it, because it's really not a big deal, but blechu I don't like it. I did more research for this following bit than I have for most of the entire story so far. I mean, I've done quite a bit of mythological research for ideas, but I haven't yet done any fact checking until now.
Because maths are important. I came up with the number 440 as the absolute minimum if you could get all of the iron out of somebody, but that seems low (due to not having a perfect method to extract iron and due to elves being half sized). I'm going to say 2,000, because elves need to eat and there has to be some error room.
"Now that sword. That acursed iron stick,"
She said and stared in sorrow at the ground,
"Is an isnult from a goblin king's trick".
"There have been many evil jokes around,
But few can turn a slave into a hound.
Fewer still have nigh destroyed a race.
I take that back. Only one fits this case."
"A long time past, fore we were born
The hearts of our mothers with pride did burn.
They waged a war doomed and forlorn,
But goblin hearts are of spite, they would learn.
Our army? Gone. Our lord? In chains.
Their king asked for the wishes of the queen.
"Cutting our trees causes such pains,
Torture seems a pleasent thing to be seen."
"So shall it then be." Said the king.
She knew it not, but our old queen was wrong.
So wrong that to lies she would cling,
Because that sword is the armie's last song.
Blood tastes of iron, so 'tis said.
Iron makes swords, like your very blade.
Without much blood is one quite dead,
As color does from her face slowly fade.
We have nothing 'gainst metal, no,
The use of dead trees is its only flaw.
The task was to make a sword. Simple, though,
Is it not when tools are living and raw.
No wood. No dirt. No clothes. No stone.
Nothing but elves, every one of them pawns.
They ate their friends, picked to the bone.
They were redder than the reddest of dawns.
And the blood. Oh, the blood. The spill.
Every drop was saved and put in a well.
So many dead. So many still.
They pleaded to rot in hell below hell.
That's enough for now. I'm really glad I can finally start talking about the sword that the Bard found in a barrel at Shrak, and why it burnt his hand (or whatever you want to say it did. It didn't burn his hand because it didn't get hot, but we'll get to that.) I like having artifacts sort of just floating around in the world. The Golden Short Sword being some sort of demon slaying relic that symbolizes dwarven strength, and this Iron Blade (I don't have a name. I was thinking just calling it the rapscallion blade because that's what I called it first, but that's not fitting.) which is literally made out of thousands of elves.
As a joke.
Goblin jokes are wonderful. What? No wood? Okay. Make a metal sword! You don't need wood for that, you have all the metal you need right inside you, you cannibals.
I like where it's going. Between the slow anger that's making the bard more violent and dark and the complete ridiculousness of the characters, I'm pretty proud of myself. Maybe I'm not really explaining my points in the story well enough, but I can't really tell. The story may just be really detailed in my head.
Also I'm note even close to being done with this little history part. It needs a lot of description. It's an important artifact. Not a real plot point like the golden sword, but still important. It's what's going to help the Bard end the story.
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Aaaaaaaand nominated for the Hall of Legends.
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YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
That was what I've been waiting for. Dude you just made a great day even better.
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YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
That was what I've been waiting for. Dude you just made a great day even better.
You're writing an epic poem. By the very name it's eligible.
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I'm really sorry for the lack of updates. I'm moving at the moment and also quitting my job (which allows me to move), and so I have a lot of stuffs. I simply don't have time at the moment.
Because I'll be travelling around for the next couple weeks and will probably lack time, I'll try to update this week before wednesday. I can't make any promises. The latest I'll be able to update is right after July, when I'm back home in North America.
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No problemo.
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Wanted to buy some more boxes but totally forgot, so I have some free time. SO BAM
And the king did not keep word!
We needed many trees for that sword
Trusting goblins was just absurd
But we had to work for this goblin lord.
In a blink our mighty nation fell
For the devils with hearts made out of coal
Our armies disolved in a well.
Two thousand good elves in a single hole.
What came from the hole it was death,
An elven sword made from pure elven broth.
But one did so exhale breath:
The hammer holder dragged out of the froth.
Destroyed by guilt and grief and pain
The sorry smith was no more any man
The soldier was gone. Went insane.
He stood and the bloodshed again began.
With a single cut on his hand
For the smith it was already the end
Within a day he could not stand
To live by the sword it does not well lend.
It seeks blood. It needs blood, it does.
To it's victim's fate does it quickly fuse
That burn on your hand, as it was,
Was nothing more than a horrible bruise.
A single cut they say it takes
To bind two together to pay a tax
It asks and wants, it cries and aches
It could stop anyone in their tracks
I don't have much time, I mean I was just going to buy boxes. Buying boxes isn't some big deal that takes tons of time. So It's a little shorter today. Not much I can do about it. Better than nothing.
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Life is getting in the way of everything right now. I do not have any time at the moment for anything. 2 weeks and I'll be back home and will be able to update. Maybe I'll get an update in before then, but until then I think I can say this will be a tiny vacation thing. I will not let this die. It's gone too far to let this die.
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Yes! We can wait.
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I shall be writing more, so it is to say I'm back. A multitude of other things showed themselves, but no worries. I am back and I will bring words.
Wait wait wait. Well. This is nice and all,
But we're on a journey, a quest of sorts,
And we are in no place to stop and stall.
The elf queen, surrounded by wooden forts,
On a wooden throne in blue wooden shorts,
Let a very soft tear fall from her eye,
And smudged and washed the deep hued dimple dye.
"Please just give us that damned stick you're holding!
You're dwarves! You have hundreds more, better too!"
I just couldn't say no, I was folding.
"Okay." The crew gasped when they heard, I knew,
But there wasn't all too much I could do.
"It's yours AFTER you give us proper aide
In the fight to kill those who made the blade.
And so twas a wrap. The queen was so pleased
She gave us the nicest beds in the land.
Soft they were, but our broken backs they eased.
Morül was restless, his sword in his hand
His worries were not of wars unmanned,
But the one reason for whom we were all here,
The princess of men from beyond the frontier.
Fuck. People are literally just walking in my house and greeting me. It took me hours of on an off sitting and talking to get out a couple stanzas.
At least I'm on vacation and will update tomorrow. At this point it's really just building momentum. Heck, I wanted to do more personal history stuff for exposition, but I know it'll just bring everything to a halt so I'll skip it. My goal isn't to get it done, but to wrap it up as a story.
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Well, I'll be watching the whole way.
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"Do you think she's alive? Has she been killed?"
Morül got emotional at the thought,
And his eyes suddenly with tears had filled.
"If they wanted her dead, we'd be for not,
They'd have killed her at the first chance they'd got."
There wasn't much I could say to him now
He just looked at me funny and furled his brow.
"You know, bard, you could be a tad blunter,
But you'd have some trouble cutting the air.
Your arrows would fall, were you a hunter.
Why are you here, bard, do you even care?"
Thuveg spoke, "Shut up, Morül, that ain't fair;
Without the bard here we'd be smashing rocks
And running into battle after socks.
Now, I got me a plan on what to we'll do,
And believe me, we could pull this one off!
And we could use the elves' help on it too!"
While old Morül just had to laugh and scoff
To the point where he would begin to cough,
The plan made sense, or, it made sense enough
If we played our cards right and knew to bluff.
I've spent many a ramen noodle soup dinner in front of an old movie thinking about this plan. It's fucking ridiculous, and more dwarven than any other way I could think of. The big problem is that the tower (because the princess is with the goblins and the goblins are in the tower, so the dwarves have to get to the tower) has walls that, at their thinnest are about 1-2 meters thick and are made out of granite. I did myself a favor by saying the tide came up to above the thinnest part of the tower so that it can't actually be seen most of the time, but it's still going to be a hard job.
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So I'd have updated earlier, but my power went out because fuck having dependable electricity. I had a couple beers (5) with friends, so I don't really feel like writing is going to be doable. Instead, I'm going to start the murder machines thingamajigger because yeah.
Well then.
Whatever.
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We will be watching. /X-Com guy
In serious, sorry about that.
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I will update tomorrow, but I have to go up norther where I don't even have electricity except for a couple solar panels. I wont have internet up there and will be away for two weeks. Thusly, I probably wont have an ability to update. I might bring my computer up so I can write, but I might not. Actually I will so that when I come back I can post a lot at once.
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Very well! Ehehehe.
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The next morning we rose with the gold sun
We took with us an elf who crafted bows
And told the elves what needed to be done
What did we then do? Well I'll have you know,
We headed to the coast where strong winds blow.
A spot where we could find the human ships.
Soon enough we could taste the salt on our lips
Soon enough we were again on the sea
My crew (not the ship's) stood on the gunwales
Their faces were green, but mine glowed with glee.
Their red eyes flowed like salty runnels
Their meals flowed through yellow toothy tunnels
But I felt great there, I rose in their fall
Like the rest of the sailors on the yawl.
In just a few days we found land again
Land that no dwarf had in hostory seen
It was a country of giants and men.
The trees were much taller, and much less green
And hung from them fruit which looked like citrine
Straight off by the king were we so greeted
And to strange new foods were we so treated
Fish, no, monsters, lay split on the table
With long blades for mouths and teeth like white knives
Things that fishers lie about in a fable
We'd never eaten like this in our lives.
The drinks were weak, but we would well survive
The king smiled, asked us if we had his child
When he heard our dumb plan, though, he was riled.
"I gave you my word that I'd give you help,
And so shall I do, but what do you need?
What can we here give you more than our kelp?"
"Your ships." I replied. "And sailors to lead."
"I'll supply our weapons" Morül decreed.
I'd forgot Morül was a general true.
Soon enough he would be an admiral too!
I know this is all supposed to be in a dwarf fortress universe, but I just can't grasp why dwarves and elves and goblins and giants and men would be different. My idea is that they're all sort of related. All of the races were the same at one point, but at another point a group of them were seperated and put on an island. The group on the island seperated to become giants and men. Giants being really large, and men just being large. Mutations and stuff. Back on the mainland, elves and dwarves are pretty much the same but in different climates and more reflect that. Goblins are also similar, but corrupted by their love for demons. I also don't think of humans being so much larger than dwarves. I mean, I don't see them as being as small as little people. More like, a tall dwarf is the size of a short man. The Bard is a tall dwarf, and only Midor is taller (because Midor is really strong and large). Sailors are, as I always seem to imagine them, rather short men. It's not really true, because I'm rather tall, but I always think of sailors as being stalky short guys. I just never really liked the idea of different groups of people (like dwarves and elves and men) looking all that different. I don't see a reason why dwarves should be especially short except for working in mines all the time. You know? It just doesn't make sense that they'd simply be significantly smaller to the point where there'd be no overlap in size. It's like, if they can interbreed (as we know from the threetoe story where the elf and goblin have a child, and goblins seem the farest from the groups of races), why would they be SO different?
I'm not sure. It's just blueh. They don't really seem so so different. Different species MAYBE, but probably just different races of the same species.
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I like your explanation of the species differentiation.
Quite a lot.
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so I spent an extra week away. Sorry bout that. Not much I could do about it. I couldn't write much either, sadly. Ya know. Shit happens. I DID see wolves. It was pretty dang dope. Saw a bear too, but bears are a little more common, and I was driving when that happened so it's a bit less thrilling.
So yeah.
That night I had crazy and vivid dreams
Of things which I had truly never seen
For once I stopped caring for mortal schemes
I dreamt of a far off place where grass was green
Where the sky was blue and the spring air was clean
A fort stood proud in the plains that made this land
It's walls clearly carved by the dwarven hand.
Yet it was in no place known to our kind,
It did resembled the black cat, but no,
It wasn't the place that stayed in my mind
Twas a man in a porcelain mask though,
And then a screaming flock of pitch black crow
The clouds turned a purple-indigo hue,
And then I saw a part of the dwarven crew.
Vath, in steel, kneeled in broken defeat
Curled the same way over his pitch black hound
The plains became now a putrid swampy peat
Accompanied by wings was pitch black sound,
Now shapes of soldiers appeared all around
The masked man pulled Vath from his friend
At this point, my string of nightmare did end.
At half past noon I rose from my lengthy bed.
Mörul watched as troops felled towering trees.
I fell down from sheets feeling half past dead.
Damor and the elf were both on their knees,
Drawing and holding paper in the breeze.
They were making giant crossbows of sorts.
Ballistae are smaller: those fit in forts!
O, these were truly large, but big enough?
They'd only get one chance to hit their mark,
But the walls of the tower were quite tough.
The iron bolts' head was the size of a shark
(that was last night's fish, I heard in remark)
One ship would hold it, one keep it steady,
One would have bolts for when it was ready.
There's more to the plan then just pulling the thing over with a couple brobdignagian ballistae on ships. If that was it, I'd never have mentioned the weak spot in the base of the tower ( because pulling the thing over from the base iz dum ).
Yeah. I liked having the time off. I felt like a lot of today's bits were better written than some other bits. I don't really think I'm too good a writer, but on a forum in the middle of nowhere on the internet, I don't think it matters. I mean, I particularly like the little bits like where I described how the crew was getting seasick, but you'd only know that had you read it in context, or how I used both crow and crew in the same stanza (I have a really rhyming "fetish." I hate words that don't rhyme perfectly, especially things like "Home" and "Alone." Those don't rhyme, but people rhyme M and N all the time. That's why I try to stay super faithful to rhymes. Slant rhymes are just awesome for me, it's like a whole new dimension I can torture myself over.) It's little things that I really enjoy.
But yeah. Giant, three boat ballistae. One to shoot, one to stabilize the shooting one, and one to hold the ropes and boats so that it can be pulled over. All three will help pull, and there will be many boats, but yeah. I mean, the tower is made out of granite and is super thick.
I don't think toppling the monster is going to be easy, and I am sure a couple of these boats are just going to collapse under the shear power of a giant ballista.
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Oh gosh guys I'm sorry for lack of posts. Things have just been getting in my way and dragging me from the computer. I'll make sure to post this weekend.
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egh too long without an update. it hurts me .
I am trying really hard not to forget about this. no excuses. I just need to focus on other things. as soon as DF2014 comes out (or 2013, but I don't believe that will happen), I will get back into df and will most definitely post again. Until then I just don't know. I probably will, but no excuses.
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We be waiting patiently.