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If you’re struggling for time you could bump down the queue a week or two?

Vampires also won't recieve any stat gains (or losses thankfully) so you'll have to train up your stats before becoming one.

And you have to find the blood. Hopefully there's still some in the Museum.

I wonder if the blood of newly-cursed adventurers works at passing on the curse?

How is the turn coming along Eric? Building a new fort?

Amusingly the demons were moaning about being caught in smoke underground, caused by their own fireballs…

I wouldn’t advise taking on a charcoal brute, Maloy. As QD says, you really need paralysis spells to defeat them. Even with a shield, Moldath was getting caught on fire because their fire attacks ignite the scenery!

They are certainly curious horrors. Was just digging into the story of them. Getting some ideas for a new group of adventurers for my next turn.

There are about five Malladang goblins left, in Confusedship, and they're all blighted thralls. The fort has been plundered by adventurers before - there's an elephant fiend corpse there slain by the alligator man Nethrez.

Charcoal Brutes are nasty. In my experience the only demons that cause trouble are the web shooters and fire breathers. Your regular mortal is going to have next to no chance of avenging Suril.

Right, we clearly need our top minds working out how to mod in beards for outsider dwarves. I’ve checked and confirmed Moldath also has a bald chin. Unacceptable.

How fitting!

Good luck on your turn, Eric!

"Moldath V", Part V, Turn 99

The Blind Scholar

21st Felsite 937

Gathering my thoughts, I leave Balancehammer behind. I am familiar with the northern lands but I head westward - I overheard the militia talk of a new fort, far to the northwest of the known lands, which I intend to visit. No sooner have I left then I bump into a skinny dwarven lord who immediately attacks me for no reason. Despite agreeing to stop this madness, he continues to flail weakly. I attempt to calm then bribe him with trinkets, to no avail. I am forced to put him out of his crazed misery.


I travel for several hours before spotting a small campfire in the distance. A sleeping goblin makes a quick snack.


The camp is also home to another goblin in fine cloth raiment; a muscular warlord! Without warning, out of nowhere, a howling freak appears, caked in the blood of kangaroos and other creatures. The freak slaughters the sleeping goblin and leaps upon me! I pull out my axe and carve its belly open, and the night creature quickly bleeds out.

Mong Uthros lies to the west, and I am sure more howling freaks will fall before I traverse their lands. By nightfall, another lies mutilated before me.


22nd Felsite 937

Having traversed the lands of the Nations of Honoring mostly without incident, I swim westwards across the peaceful waters by night. I travel northwest, an area I have never visited before. Suddenly I am attacked by two naked human expedition leaders. How bewildering.


More naked humans stalk the lands south of the new fort, and I also encounter a troll recruit. Just outside the curious fort the dwarves of Balancehammer alluded to, I am attacked by an enormous arachnid, spraying webs. I am caught up in the sticky strands and the vicious beast lunges for me. I use my magic to launch the beast in the air. It smashes into a tree with a sickening thud, gouting ichor from its ruined leg. It is caught in its own web and struggles to get free. I too struggle against the webs as its slavering mandibles close round my head. Finally I am free of the web, and the glittering runeaxe describes a wide arc as it shatters the spiders body. These creatures are deadly, and I must be careful! My neck is torn, the nerves shredded - fortunately for me, I am animated by dark magic and rot rather than feeble flesh!


23rd Felsite 937

The fort itself appears very traditional on the surface, and is teaming with life. Over a hundred dwarves and many dogs crowd the surface and yet there seems no deeper structures.  I can sense their heartbeats, below the ground. Two finely crafted lighthouses guard the coast, and two well-appointed buildings look out over the western coast. Where do these dwarves sleep? It certainly seems a secluded and peaceful place, apart from the vicious spiders...


I leave to explore the remainder of this peninsula. A short distance south east is a sturdy wooden hut, and inside are coffers brimming with skulls and bones. How sinister. A thin jittery human bowman necromancer approaches, petting a giant bear head. He tells me tales of Desli Wanedhummed the Beautiful Intricacies. This is the same wolf woman whose axe I found at Holykingdom. She is nowhere to be seen. He seems loyal to this wolf lady and so I gift to this lurking necromancer Desli's axe, retrieved from Holykingdom. Hopefully he can return it one day to is rightful owner. I also give him a perfect masterwork tanzanite crown I found in Balancehammer, and bestow upon it the name Ancientcrown the Noble Knowledge of Lurking. I hope it brings him good luck in his adventures. I bid Lurker Ancientcrown good day.


26th Felsite 937

A long journey south brings me to the abandoned fort of Relicward. It is eerily still but I hear something scrabbling in the depths. Just beyond the trade depot is an enormous zombie giant black bear! I end this threat immediately. I leave the fort, silent once more, and head south.


In the dead of night I am ambushed by dingomen. Foolish creatures.


1st Hematite 937

I have travelled south for many days. It is still night when I arrive in Mabkor, Incenseorder. This town is alleged to have thrived in recent decades under the undying stewardship of Maloy Craftsoars, the wolf man werefox Lord. The town does seem alive, my vampiric senses telling of many heartbeats. However, the first door I open is home to a blighted thrall. I scour the city and find no more ghouls. Maloy seems unconcerned but I travel south to Clenchportent, where the cabinet sits in exile since the Walled Dye took this city. It is, indeed, crawling with thralls. The law-giver is first to fall, the adamantine greataxe separates his head from his shoulders cleanly. The rest soon follow.


I spend a few days clearing the villages south of here of putrid ghouls and blighted thralls. Before long I have arrived at Divedact. I spend some time in the fabled Palace of Brains library, learning many interesting things. I discover how to write Biographies! I even attempt writing a few essays of myself, although my wordsmithery leaves much to desire.


3rd Hematitie 937

The town of Borncats is crawling with thralls and putrid ghouls, no doubt the handiwork of the Ghoul-Father. I found a scroll of his hand containing the secrets of life and death in Clenchportents! I slaughter all that I can find.

6th Hematite 937

I have travelled south through the lands of the High Confederacies and find myself close once more to the fabled Museum of Boltspumpkin. I stop off at Ironwards craft some scrolls and quires, and bump into a forgotten beast. It is composed of vomit and has poison vapours. I hope they don't have any nasty side effects.


I head to the Shelter of Adventures, where Irthu Bladebroken, Ragnar Ironjaw and the elf Athama Stalkhandled still reside, over a century since their last adventure. I leave some hearty food for aspiring adventures, hot from the kitchens of Ironwards.


At the camp of Herograves, I find caskets dedicated to the Adventurers of The Museum. In one empty coffin, I place the remains of Rusna Springblossom the Gulf of Liberties and her adamantine armour and atop her skeleton the massive greataxe Noblechopped. Long may it rest with her.


17th Hematite 937

I spend several weeks amassing a great collection of my own knowledge, and this will be my submission to the Museum. I crafte a nickel silver coffer to house my works, and stow the scrolls and squires in exotic pouches. There are some books here which would grant unnatural life to those foolhardy enough to read them, among some more esoteric works. I find the Museum sadly in disarray, with exhibits scattered far and wide. I spend a day or two gathering and sorting over two centuries of artifacts and attempt to restore them to their previous positions.

Upon a pedestal, I leave The Black Library of Moldath.

In addition, I leave the corpse of the giant cave spider which almost killed me for the third time - Scouredlaud the Number of Dreaming.


I decide to retire to Kikrostzar, a sparsely populated frozen wasteland, where hopefully I can stay out of trouble for the next few decases or so of my infinite existance... although as I feel the rot take hold of my senses once more, I suspect It has other plans.

---

OOC:

Forts visited:
Holykingdom
Balancehammer
Abyssdeeps
Realmspire
Blueoceans

Museum submission: The Black Library - the collected ramblings of the Blind Sadist, in a casket of his favoured metal. I think this should be submission number 55, before Braalbard's hand-inception?

"Moldath V", Part IV, Turn 99

The Trek to Treatyseed

5th Felsite 937


I clear the final dregs of demonic filth from the hellish outpost in Ironwards - some surprisingly chatty clear brutes fall to my axe. I inhale a thick cloud of boiling iguana demon extract, and I retch up blood from my rotten lungs. It will take more than that to lay me low.

I travel north towards Treatyseed, picking off a few goblins on the way.


On the outskirts of the capital, I am assailed by a headless blighted thrall fell one. It raises a fog and then promptly collapses when I drive my adamantine sword into its leg. Within Treatyseed itself, there has been some clean up since last I visited. Human militia commanders now patrol the corridors. I search for any sign of the king, but I find that he has died long ago! A new king sits on the throne of the Walled Dye.

In one of the many forgehalls, I find the skeleton of a great warrior clad in adamantine. Between her hands is an enormous adamantine runeaxe, encrusted with multicoloured diamonds!


Sadly the warrior's corpse is too shattered for my death magic to reanimate. I take her skeleton and armour and vow to find a fitting place to put her to rest. The axe is light as a feather and sharp as death. It will be a fine weapon.

I finally catch up with the so-called new king and interrogate him on his values. He cries for a drink, and that his hands are restless from lack of crafting. Strong dwarvish traits. He values knowledge and martial prowess, that much we agree on, but baulks at the importance of power. I discover from the chittering nobles that the Walled Dye are beset on all sides by war.


War against the humans of the Creamy Confederacy and The Empire of Peeks, not to mention the ever present threat of the goblins. Perhaps a king who valued power would not have allowed this to come to pass. But I will spill no blood here. I am not like the evil scorpion and his subterfuge and coups!

I leave through the central staircase to some commotion. A necromancer baron has ressurected the corpse pile! After I have cleaned up the mess, and raised a few unfortunate bystanders into a new productive life, I press on. I think it might be time to pay the Empire of Peeks a visit.

8th Felsite 937

I arrive at Faithtalk, capital of the Empire of Peeks, to have a polite chat with their law-giver. Several gaunt zombies roam the surrounds and are quickly dispatched. Arriving at the mead hall, I find it in disarray - goblin skeletons and blighted thralls are slaughtering the humans. I heft the huge adamantine greataxe over my shoulder and wade in.


A muscular head advisor necromancer - Ashi Slidsoapy - makes things even more confusing by ressurecting yet more corpses! The guild-representative is indeed a blighted thrall, as is the law-giver.

He has a blank look on his face as he pets the severed head of a goblin, before his own joins it on the floor. In the commotion I hear another necromancer squealing. I shall cleanse this corrupt place. I step down the stairs and suddenly the room is teaming with Gaunt Zombies. Slibtu Helplearns the necromancer is to blame.


It takes several hours before all the corpses are burning on a funeral pyre. I find evidence of the handiwork of Jamas the elk man. I wonder if the Ghoul-Father has anything to do with the infiltration of the Empire of Peeks? A short distance northeast is the town of Councilenjoyed, where goblin priests are being feasted on by blighted thralls. More work for me.

10th Felsite 937

After a short jaunt through some dark pits, I head westward and arrive at the town of Bitemother. Unsurprisingly it is infested with blighted thralls. It is another town of The Empire of Peeks, recently fallen to the Creamy Confederacy. Both are enemies of the dwarves, so I take grim satisfaction in cleansing this place.


In one small house I am surprised to see two giant wolves fighting with blighted thralls. The wolves are bitten by the thralls and succumb to the ghoulish plague, but their assault is unrelenting. I am forced to slay them all.


A short distance away from Bitemother, I am ambushed. There are three completely naked human wrestlers who seem a little sheepish and reluctant to attack, when out of nowhere a huge giant wolf appears. Another one? This wolf makes short work of the first wrestler as I look on dumbfounded. This is a seriously weird town.


The great wolf kills all three of my would be nude assassins, and I try to calm it to no avail. I am forced to strangle it. Raising into undeath, it will make a fine steed to carry me over the great mountains to the north. We travel over the mountains by night, the wolf's stride untiring, before arriving in the sinister desert of The Waste of Strangeness. We have reached our destination and I silently snap the wolfs neck, the magic animating it vanishing.

11th Felsite 937

Arriving at the foul cave of The Doom of Murk I spot many slaughtered elves, some of the skeletons bear the marks of a bear-like creature. One such elf claims to be a prisoner and begs to return home to his wife in Glacialtempests, capital of the Squeezing Ford. I have never seen eye to eye with elves but this could be intriguing. If the elf doesnt mind slaughtering some goblins on the way. Sure, we will visit Glacialtempests, eventually. Apparently his wife, Eliye Mobbean, is the diplomat for the queen of the elves. That could be interesting leverage!


We press on north through the evil desert. Thick pools of dwarf blood pock the landscape, raining from the sky of this horrible place. Animals skitter away leaving trails of dwarf blood in their wake; it coats our flesh and dribbles into our eyes. What a miserable land.


Less than half a day north, the land sprawls with dark pits. We stumble on a camp of troll and goblin blighted thralls. The skinny elf does not last long. He is bitten by a troll and his face twists as the ghoulish curse takes hold. It is not safe to return him home now. I take no pleasure in ending his suffering - he could have been a valuable asset in ending the war between the Squeezing Fords and the Nations of Honoring.

The closest Dark Fortress is a short distance to the west, Dreadyouth. I begin scouring the goblin filth. One particularly unfortunate fellow has his arm ripped off, jammed into his chest and then his skull bitten in half. I do relish in the suffering of goblins!


A particular favourite is using my death magic to propel the snivelling beasts from atop their wicked towers. How satisfying.


The goblins huddle in the centre of their fortress but the adamantine tide is relentless. Nothing is coming to save them. The walls are smeared in blood when I am finished. The hordes are unrelenting, and eventually I decide to leave this place. I do not have the patience to slaughter five thousand beak dogs.


13th Felsite 937

Posionuttered is the capital of the Most Sin, but it is mostly deserted. The Dark Tower is infested with trolls and I find only a handful of goblins. I do take the skull of their fat master, Ngom Profaneslugs. I leave and am chased by curious defenders. A named beak dog assaults me and is hacked down, followed by a group of troll soldiers in copper armour lead by Doxon Phraseveiled the troll hefting a copper morningstar. The goblins must be truly desperate to allow these dull creatures to lead their armies.


14th Felsite 937

I head north in the direction of the Mong Uthros territories. On the outskirts of Lipbraided I am accosted by blighted thralls. The blight has never taken hold this far north before. This is troubling news. Lipbraided's main keep is also infested, as are a few local villages. This whole land must be purged.

16th Felsite 937

Several goblins, thralls and howling freaks have been put down and eventually I arrive at Drillshrine. This town is the secondary capital of Mong Uthros, with all the constant upheaval in Atticmuffins. The new law giver, amusingly, is an elf disguised as a frail criminal. He greets me as a fellow worshipper of Ala, so he can keep his head for now. The facade is ruined by his justicar asking for him by his real name.


A polititian masquerading as a criminal... finally, an honest law-giver. At least the plague has not reached here yet. I am not so certain about Atticmuffins, which is my next stop.

Sadly, Atticmuffins is overrun by hand of planesgift priests, and half of them are blighted thralls. The group that Kothvir installed, the Greatest Attic of Muffins, are nowhere to be seen. I slaughter the thralls, and leave the other priests untouched. They greet me coldly - even as a legend, they cannot forgive my mercy killing.


In the refugee camps I meet the Lady of Atticmuffins, Siti Seizegorged. She seems happy to see me. Perhaps now the thralls are dealt with, she can return to her keep. It certainly seems that Erod Ambercrows was a... divisive figure. The thrall threat near Atticmuffins seems neutralised at least, and I spend a day or two checking nearby villages.


18th Felsite 937

I arrive at Releaseteachers, home of the Coven of Frothing. When I enter the hall, a blighted thrall priest is attacking the Holy Raunch, who quickly dispatches it with his iron pike. This grim priest is heavily armoured and has a short, muscular body. I entrusted the bronze slab Uklasut to the Holy Raunch Sushsath Routeenbraced here nearly forty years ago. Of her, there is no sign, and the new priest is not forthcoming. More worringly, there is no trace of the slab to be found. What has happened to it?


I travel eastwards, and arrive at Northmanor the Unholy Cathedral. To my dismay, it is crawling with goblin soldiers, mercenaries, and bizarrely a goblin who claims to be a tavern keeper. On his corpse is yet more evidence of the scorpion's vile plots.


By the time I have purged the goblins from this dwarven fort, I have 11 pouches full of coins bearing the grinning visage of the pincered menace.


20th Felsite 937

I leave Northmanor and head east, a very short distance away is a fort that I am familiar with. Fragmented memories come flooding back as I arrive on the outskirts of Balancehammer, where I was imprisoned and flayed alive for many years. The dwarves here hail from the resurgent Page of Tiredness.


They have clearcutted a huge swathe of bamboo forest and a proud basalt fortress rises from the earth. I meet a frail hammerer who claims not to know me. Entering the fort, I am confronted by a series of well crafted bridges which seem designed to drop unwelcome visitors into the icy depths below - surely enough to rid the fort of any goblin vermin who might drop by!

The flowing water is used expertly to create a waterfall of mist through the central spire - I cannot help grinning as my rotten flesh is washed by the caress of the river, and steam envelopes me instead of miasma. Fine adamantine and steel weapons litter the hallways, a sign of this places wealth and power. I remember little of this... only fleeting glimpses in my shattered mind of being chained to the "surgeon's" table. I spend some time exploring.

In the central courtyard, an enormous basalt spire juts skyward; truly an impressive sight. In one of the bedrooms is a familiar looking object. A rope reed quire that was written by my own hand! I quickly place it within my pack.


I fully explore the fortress. It is well stocked and well defended, and there are no beasts to slay. I stumble into a room which makes my head spin. A statue of my own twisted form stands before me, next to one of heroic dwarves and a final edifice of the dread wyrm Faci, destroyer of Keyconjure. Memories flood my rotten brain in an unwelcome torrent. Imprisoned, tortured like some plaything. In one corner is a room with a bed, throne and table, leading to a corridor with a loathsome trapped floor. One pull of a lever will drop whoever stands upon it into a cage trap. Is this how they kept me prisoner?


Somehow I feel this is not the only secret here. I am compelled to retrace my steps to the entrance, and high above the goblin-drowning trap I stumble along a precarious set of bridges into a quiet, cold stone room. Bookcases line the wall and the remnnants of a cage trap are visible in the centre of the prison. A statue leers at me, a reproduction of the event that forced me into servitude for many decades in Eskon. This place was my jail. It takes every ounce of my superdwarven willpower not to lay waste to the cowards who call this place home. I leave before my will breaks.