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Events
Immediately After

Carefulrogue leaned back in the throne. Resting his hands an inch from the tome in a steeple.  He was in the body, probing the extent of what Apiks’ magic had done. 

He was unsettled by the ability, but more by the display of it, in such flourishes.  His discovery and practice had always been secret, kept away from prying eyes, locked away, although that didn’t always work.  Apiks though, lavished it.  And the nature surrounding Apiks was strange all it’s own, a bright white, sometimes threatening to overtake his sight with the best of defenses and evasions.  Even now, he could glance up and see a pulse of white peeking through the tiny cracks, and shining through the other blankets of magic.  He was powerful. 

Rivaling his magic, but not significantly, was his influence over the population.  Somehow he got the military to back him, and turn on Th4DwArfY1 a year--was it even a year?--ago.  And still the civilian population hasn’t attempted an uprising, despite ordering a significant volume of the population to haul bodies into the center of the fortress, where he decided to build a throne.  If they had just sided with Highmax, Apiks would have been stripped of a significant volume of power.  That was a frustrating, but unsettling thought. 

The Orchestra came to mind as a force he might enlist to give him ways to start to combat Apiks’ influence.  If they didn’t try and kill him immediately, he thought grimly, after what had happened.  Hard to say.

With a sigh, Carefulrogue reached forward and flipped the book close.  Standing, with the aid of magic--the crutch was across the room--he stowed the book on the shelf where it sat next to a dozen other journals.  The other shelves had their own collections, but the second one down was for the journals most especially. 

Rogue walked to the crutch’s resting point, and then glanced at the oil lamp still burning slowly on the desk.  “May the divine guide me,” he whispered, as he whisked the air away from the flame.  Darkness blanketed the room, and Carefulrogue closed the door and began the walk back to the fortress proper.  Rogue had work to do. 

Well thank you for the logic.  This little bit greatly affects how I'm going to write out the beginning of my turn.

Considering Highmax is a Legendary Swordsmite, and Rosywander grants the wielder power, I assumed Rosywander would have to force itself into the right places to block against Highmax and possibly other strong enemies. Which is why it was jerky in movement. Think of it an aimbot but for blocking.

I THINK its my last day today, so I'll get the save ready. Sad that the lag + crashing + extra work hours got in the way of getting past four months.

If you keep posting in the chunks you've been at, you can earn yourself another day.  I'm happy to wait. 

Events
Rogue grunted softly as he carried the coffin along, one of the men at the rear.  The crutch was getting in the way some, so the procession was slow.  That wasn't really a concern though.  The others weren't moving all that quickly.  The sadness was palpable.  Despite that, Rogue admired the stoicism on his fellow pallbearer's faces, hard as it was on some. 

Rogue didn't have much to give to the procession.  He had started to get to know his fellows a bit more, but there was a limit to that, given just his state.  The queen had been someone he'd avoided, partially to avoid the wrath of anger over unfulfilled mandates, but more because he had no idea how to approach her.  There was something to admire though.  It certainly worked to bring the others together, even under the eyes of a dictator. 

He'd heard mutters and whispers describing her as their hope.  Usually before her death.  Few could command and provide that scarce of a idea. 

After, the discussions of hope had been muted.  That was the greatest sadness to Rogue.  Memories of succumbing to failure suffered, the names attached to the places haunting his thoughts.  Each end was a tragedy.  Here though, it was an evil.  In each of those fortresses whose memories he recalled, the end was natural, and death was... well, except for him, it was peaceful.  The undead were rare, the strength of backs and pride common goods.  Here though, death is violent, the dead common, and the pride supporting them all was sapping, and the strength of backs seemed to be heading towards futile efforts. 

The thought unsettled him.  The unsettling angered him, but the only thing he could do was move the coffin forward one slow step at a time. 

They met the procession waiting in the internal fortress.  The outer rim of the path had forumites lined up along it, paying their final respects to the leader  they had sought so much from.  They passed Highmax and his chronicler, Dastot.  Highmax had a solemn expression, but it reflected a wisdom Rogue recognized. 

With a final heave, they settled the coffin into it's resting place.  The crippled priest hobbled forward to give the send-off of the deity of his.  And then, that was it.  Silence permeated the halls.  Shuffling of feet and a few hushed whispers of prayer fractured the silence, but the silence did not shatter.  Seconds dragged onto a few minutes.  A few left, silently hugging the walls, and closing the door to shut out the sounds of the fortress beyond the room. 

Rogue glanced around at the forumites around him.  He'd trained a number of them in the art of war, helping Highmax along with his goal of expanding the military.  He looked on the children, restless, but understanding now was a time to be quiet.  At some point the burden would fall on them, or they'd be killed when the military inevitably failed.  He looked at the crafters tools hanging from their belts, aprons, and hanging out of pockets.  The lifeblood of the fortress' existence.  Without them, he'd be fighting Politicians barehanded, like the one time many years ago.  They would starve without them, stagnate and fail. 

Rogue turned and left the room, the crutch creaking, his armor scattering sound through the hall.   The members of the military that did not have duties were all that were left.   They did not mind the sound.  No heads turned as Rogue left to carry out his own duties.

Yeah, when I found out Highmax was coming back, this is not what I was picturing. Naked soldiers did not figure in the picture.

That's what I thought when I hoped to put my character in charge of a squad of noobies.  Instead, he stripped naked except for his shield, and threw away his artifact chainsaw, before strolling out of the fortress, only to run into a bunch of politicians.  Then he fell three stories and was killed while struggling to get out of the water of the mysterious pit that exists for no good reason.

A post a day sounds great, mate.

Gives us something to look forward too.

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on September 15, 2017, 08:41:16 am

Zon Bitchshields the Armored Enchanters of Pulling

*Spits out drink*
*Dies laughing*

*stares intently at Th4DwArfY1*

As for carefulrogue taking them, it's quite probable that he was simply good at dodging. How many did he kill?

1.  I had only a shield, and a bit of civilian armor.  The army came out of nowhere while I was doing cleanup after the Gamer Ambushes.  After that kill though, I kept backing up until I was knocked into that pit you started walling off.  One of those bodies is one my character iterations.