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Author Topic: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress  (Read 266654 times)

Rhaken

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #150 on: December 26, 2013, 07:56:37 am »

You do realize I have one year left, right? :P
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fractalman

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #151 on: December 26, 2013, 08:23:57 am »

:facepalm:
-don't worry, I didn't get myself up extra early soley to play dwarf fortress.
« Last Edit: December 26, 2013, 08:32:00 am by fractalman »
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This is a masterwork ledger.  It contains 3719356 pages on the topic of the precise number and location of stones in Spindlybrooks.  In the text, the dwarves are hauling.
"And here is where we get the undead unicorns. Stop looking at me that way, you should have seen the zombie deer running around last week!"

MDFification

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #152 on: December 26, 2013, 03:04:02 pm »

Undated

Melek has refused my offer. I am now out of options to acquire Asmoth's research notes, should Rhaken not intervene on my behalf. I doubt he will - he tires of this scheming.
The defensive mechanisms at the gate are, while effective, a most inefficient means to deal with invaders. I've drawn up plans for a trap virtually impenetrable, but it's implementation is not required at this time, so I feel no need to propose it to Rhaken. He'd probably dismiss it as cowardly due to its extreme effectiveness, anyway. I know his type. Soldiers don't like to be made obsolete.

My desk appeared to have been rummaged through today. Simple thievery, or have the magic users been spying on me? Either way, all details I can't remember will now be carried with my person at all times. It's probably futile, but I cannot let them seize an advantage over me uncontested. At least my real plans are never written down.  They won't be again until I'm confident we have no thaumaturgists among us, or am in a position they can't do anything about anyway.

Fractaldwarf and his band of dissenters continue to gain in number. If you ever want to loose faith in the rationality of the common dwarf, you may do so at this point. Rhaken keeps this fort secure, arbitrates disputes between the gangs, and ensures the mountainhomes don't take away Steelhold's autonomy. In short, he is doing his utmost to ensure this colony continues its "prosperity" and stability. Yet dwarfs can still be made to oppose him with promises of creature comforts provided by an obvious lunatic.
I hate to get involved in politics, but I've ingratiated myself to Rhaken. There's no good alternative for an Overseer in this fort. The commoners won't listen to a dwarf utterly lacking in charisma like myself, but I'll do my utmost to ensure his regime's survival. I don't want to get into open conflict with the magic users, but they continue to force my hand.

The source of the Fractaldwarf's thaumaturgical energy appears to be a book he carries with him. I know not how to destroy it and would rather not risk an attempt. I have other alternatives, however. I've made... modifications to Lenehan's machine. Ones that Rhaken never asked for, but might save his regime should the device be used against him.
I'll survive this. If they threaten my survival, I'll make them regret it. Very briefly, if I'm lucky enough to kill them first. Or longer, although that will be more akin to minor frustration when they learn the extent of my sabotage.

I need training in arms. I'll ask Rhaken to enlist me in the Marksdwarfs, if possible. If not, well... if your bolts are poisoned, it doesn't matter if you missed a vital area.
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fractalman

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #153 on: December 26, 2013, 04:18:26 pm »


note to self: double check that all time-cracks are sealed before attempting any sort of magic-based fate manipulations. (if you don't know...it never happened. )

...

While Emdief was busy, I hunted through his desk for operating instructions for the thaumometer.  Didnt' find any, but I did find a doodle...I think someone else has rifled through this drawer. hard to be sure

I think it's either a cheese grater or a plan for new fortress defenses.   Emdief probably doesn't remember making it in the first place. 

Need to ask emdief about simple and quick improvements to make to the fortress defense grid. He'll hopefully be happy to find a listening ear.  Now, how to do it without getting shot at? AHAH! I'll send someone ELSE to ask him! That way he'll be a lot calmer!
...I can't remember if I stuck my windmill array plans into his desk or not...
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This is a masterwork ledger.  It contains 3719356 pages on the topic of the precise number and location of stones in Spindlybrooks.  In the text, the dwarves are hauling.
"And here is where we get the undead unicorns. Stop looking at me that way, you should have seen the zombie deer running around last week!"

Rhaken

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #154 on: December 26, 2013, 08:13:51 pm »

The trolls have broken through. They clamber down the stairs, roaring in triumph, until one of them eats a bolt right in the eye. It takes barely a minute for our forces to overwhelm them without so much as a scratch, their thick hides no match for our iron. But something leaves me uneasy. There were only four of them. I've seen goblin armies before. A contingent of trolls always comes in groups of ten or more, and I only saw a small handful getting caught in the cage traps. Where are the rest of them?

Plenty of time to worry about that later. For now, I return to my viewport. Seems the lads downstairs have woken up. The bridges are down, with a veritable heap of cursing goblins nursing bruises or exposed fractures. Crisis averted, I suppose. But I'm still having a word with those two once the siege is lifted and I've had a drink.

Some of the goblins are having themselves a heated argument. It goes on for some time, with voices getting louder and hands moving to weapon hilts, before some of the greenskins - the majority, in fact - turn away from their army and make a break for the desert. The siege is not yet lifted, however. One squad of goblins remains, and as soon as the bridges come back on, they ascend the ramp again. The whole ordeal kind of makes me wonder about dwarven stubbornness.

Since there are no archers left among them, I tell the marksdwarves to hit the turrets. The goblins come under heavy fire immediately. Some get injured, others dodge off the bridges, other still break into a dead run, trying to reach the end of the archways as quickly as they can. Before they are even at the final bend, the bridges go down again, and down they plummet. They stare at each other, nod in silent agreement. Then they run off. I order the gatehouse bridge to lower.

That didn't go well. One of the lads, antsy to spill goblin blood, went running after the axegoblins. Grumbling, I tell the rest of the squad to move up and protect their idiot friend. Didn't do him much good. The goblin he was chasing decided that he wasn't a complete coward after all and turned to fight. By the time the lads could get to him and rip him to shreds, their hasty idiot friend was dead, skull split by an axe. His own damnfool fault. Two of the lads took injuries of their own in avenging him, thus preventing the enemy from getting any idea of regrouping at great cost to themselves.

But that was the end of it. The siege was lifted. But where were the trolls?

I take a moment to think on it. Trolls don't rout. They carry on or they die. But a number of them had gone missing. That meant either they'd found a fortress pet to harass, or found something to break. But the goblin attack had begun after the pets had been slain, and there wasn't anything for them to demolish outside the fortress. Except....

Oh dear gods.


Spoiler (click to show/hide)



Our search party doesn't make in time to prevent the break-in. We arrive to find the wooden doors shattered to splinters, Lenehan's desiccated corpse splayed on the ground, the trolls hammering away at Chancebraid the Late Hero, the artifact weapon rack that the elf party leader had tucked into his resting place. They bellow in fury, striking the marble to no effect. Dwarven artifacts do not break easily.

We dispatch them without a hassle, but end up painting Lenehan's tomb a lovely shade of cyan in the process. On our way back to the gatehouse, a scout informs me that the invaders are all either gone or caught in cages. That should give us a plentiful supply of live targets for the marksdwarves.

Corley is waiting for me on the depot, rubbing soot from his hands, an unlit cigarette caught between his lips. I had called for him before we left to dispatch the trolls. He needed to know what happened. Lying or hiding the truth wouldn't do me any good.


"I'm sorry lad. The trolls broke into your father's tomb and dug up his body." I was never one for formalities. "I'm willing to repair the damage done and lay him to rest properly again, but as the executor of his estate, it's up to you to decide what to do."

"Don't look so surprised. I may have not particularly liked your father or his ways, but that doesn't mean he deserves this. Come see me in my office when you decide how to proceed."



Emdief walks at my side as I make my way to the barracks. We take a detour through the armory. I hand him a mongoose leather quiver with glass decoration, a glass flask,  and a stack of copper bolts. The backpack will have to wait until our leatherworker gets off his lazy ass and makes some.

"Try to understand, lad," I tell him. "Signing you up for the marksdwarves would be a mistake. Those lads train year round, leaving no time for civilian work. It would be a waste of your formidable mind."

"However, it did give me an idea. Way back when I was on active duty - far before you were born - we had this thing in the army called an engineering corps. It was basically a squad of engineers with armor and crossbow training. The idea was that we could carry around engineers on campaign without having to devote too much dwarfpower to keeping them safe. They would do their jobs, and open fire on anything that got in the way of them doing it.

"During peace time, the old general died and got himself replaced by some duke's son who thought he knew the business end of a hammer." It just bloody well had to be nobles. "At some point in the ensuing logistics clusterfuck, we lost the engineering corps and nobody bothered reinstating them.

"Until now."

We pass the cramped drill yard and go through the door to the archery range. I turn to Emdief.

"As of now, the engineering corps is reinstated. For now, it's just Steelholds engineers, serving under Unib Eshtanakmesh. She proved to have a decent mind for military discipline, so I got her learning basic military strategy under Captain Deler of the Mighty Cudgel-Roads. She decided to name the squad the Decisions of Creation. Fitting, wouldn't you say?"

I lead him toward the open passageway at the far end of the range. "However, there is one thing you must understand. You in particular, lad, because I'm certain you've a better head on your shoulders than the rest of the squad." My face hardens, as does my tone. "If you're going to be in a squad, you have to be capable of killing, and of following orders. Without that, the moment you enter a dangerous situation, you will freeze up or take a stupid risk, endangering yourself and your brothers in arms. We are not yet at a point where machinery can replace soldiers, and there are precious few of us as it is, so we have to cover each other's asses. If you're not willing, I can't sign you up. Your brilliance would be best put to use elsewhere."

Emdief follows me through the passage, into a chamber he has never seen in action. A pit takes up the entire center of the room, with a single pillar jutting out from its center, ending at floor level. Atop the pillar, bound and manacled, is a goblin. A pikeman from the previous siege, who had been left to rot in her cage for over a year. She hissed at me, then at Emdief. She spat vile curses in the hideous language of goblins, struggling in futility against the heft of the iron chains holding her down. If she did manage to dislodge the chain, she would just tumble into the pit anyways.

I turn to Emdief.
"Kill her. Kill her, and you're in. I understand if you're not particularly willing. It's coward's work," I sigh, "but wars are won on wits and discipline first, courage second.

"So kill."



Melek lifts her head from her suturing work when I enter the hospital. She looks tired. The dwarf she's working on is one of the marksdwarves, who decided to venture up to the battlements at the wrong time and got turned into a pincushion for his troubles. He is conscious, groaning into a pile of cloth stuffed into his mouth to keep him from biting his own tongue. Two other beds are taken by militia dwarves, still armored. Asmoth stands at the corner of the room, head tilted to one side, a tray of medical supplies in her hands. She nods in approval as her daughter goes back to work with excellent precision, but I can tell from her eyes that the 'good' doctor's mind is somewhere far from here.

"Consider yourself lucky, Ilral", I tell the soldier. "If those goblins had any kind of training, you'd be in a coffin."

I turn to the young doctor, in a far gentler tone. "What's the damage?"

"Several puncture wounds, "she tells me, businesslike, "including one in the intestines. I'm doing what I can, and Moisturizer is making more soap. He'll get better, but he won't walk right again." This doesn't seem to faze Ilral that much. I guess he already heard the news.

"Thank you for the hard work, lass. I won't distract you any longer. Come meet me in my office when you're done."

I excuse myself and walk away, back toward the barracks. Her being a clever dwarf, she probably suspects what I'm calling the meeting for. I was going to ask about her mother's notes. I'd be gentle about it, certainly, but I needed the information now more than ever. Her mother's sick experiments aside, the woman had been brilliant in her time. I needed to figure out if she had anything to do with the Elf Plague, and if there was still some of it laying around. She will probably lie about it. But if she does, I'll know it.

My thoughts turn back to Lenehan, Melek's first cousin and Corley's father. The masked dwarf had said something about him becoming a - what was the word he used? A host? I can't help but wonder what that means, more so now that the tomb has been desecrated. And I doubt the masked one will tell me. He has his own agenda, and it's important enough that he handed control of Steelhold to me in order to focus on it. Then there's the fractaldwarf. Another mystery. He likes to act like an ineffectual basket case, but there is far more to this dwarf than meets the eye.

Isn't there anybody in this Armok-forsaken place that can tell me shit about magic?




OOC

I discovered some fun things today. For example. Melek is married, and has two kids. She's carrying one around right now.

Also. Emdief is married. To Derroth. As in, Derroth the Royal Pervert. They have two kids.

Make of this what you will, both of you. You don't have to let it become part of their lives. :)
« Last Edit: December 27, 2013, 03:00:58 am by Rhaken »
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MDFification

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #155 on: December 26, 2013, 09:38:05 pm »

Eh, Emdief probably just shoots it. A bit of a sociopath, that one.
No idea what to make of the Derroth thing. Witchcraft. Eh, I'd explain it off as their marriage was strained, she got deported before he did, and seeing as he's a greedy heartless S.O.B he hasn't bothered to see either her or the kids. For the same reason, they're none to happy to see him.

EDIT: Let me tell you about magic...

---

One goblin dead. Emdief wasn't sure what Rhaken had been going on about. Pulling a trigger wasn't hard. Could have used the goblin, sure, but it wasn't like they were hard to obtain. They show up every year.
What was harder, however, was keeping Rhaken in power. Within a scarcely used tunnel, deep within the bowels of the fort, Emdief cleared his throat.

"We don't know how why thaumatu- magic accomplishes anything. All we know is that it does. It's a force like any other. It can be detected. Every confirmed instance of divine intervention uses magic. Adamantine naturally radiates magic. There's magic radiated from underneath the magma sea - that's why you get all those strange creatures down there. But mortal minds aren't able to grasp magic's functions. Well, most of them, anyway.
Rhaken scowled impatiently. "Get to the point, lad. I don't have all day. Some of us like to talk to their wives."
Emdief didn't bother to respond to that. "My point is, magic is dangerous. A few think they can use it, but really something is using them. We can't use magic. Gods or worse can. Terrible things happen to magic users. I'd steer clear of it if I were you."
"I'm not looking to use magic, lad. I just want to know what in the name of Armok's left testicle is going on in this fort."
Emdief fingered his thaumometer uneasily. So far as I can tell, there's more magic in this fort than a typical area. We've got two anomalies. One appears to be a large amount of magic drawn from deep beneath the Earth - I think that one's Maskdwarf, receiving power from his so-called gods. The other seems to be magic just appearing as if from nowhere out of an artifact. That source is some book Fractaldwarf carries around with him. I'd have that one killed, if I was you. Remind the other dwarfs who's in charge here.
"If I wanted your advice as to how to run this hellhole," Rhaken growled, "I'd wring it out of that fat noggin of yours. Got it?" Emdief dropped his eyes, but he wasn't concerned. Rhaken was smart enough not to smack down a subordinate who talked sense. "So you know where it comes from. Can you tell me what they're doing with it?"
Emdief chuckled humorlessly. "I'm afraid I can't help you there. All I know is that it can't be good. I feel it in my beard. Both of them are patently insane, and wield powers we can neither understand nor counter. I'd say kill them and forget this all ever happened... but just killing someone rarely goes off without serious repercussions. And these dwarfs, we can't go through with it. I'm fairly certain they spy on me, and I'm scarcely important. They probably know exactly what we're planning. Remember, this fort was eating out of the Masked Dwarf's hand before he agreed to your takeover. I'm afraid all we can do is wait for them to make a mistake, and pounce on it."
And with that, the moment of privacy was gone as a dwarf rushed through the corridor, hauling something somewhere. Rhaken and Emdief went their separate ways.
« Last Edit: December 26, 2013, 10:21:48 pm by MDFification »
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4maskwolf

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #156 on: December 26, 2013, 11:50:47 pm »

The masked dwarf stepped out of the shadows in Emdief's room, expecting to see its occupant standing there waiting for him.  Instead, he stepped into a room that was deathly quiet, even the thaumometer wasn't going off.  The masked dwarf frowned.  It wasn't like Emdief to deactivate his defenses.  This was... ahah.  The thaumometer wasn't in the room.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar sound from outside the room.  The thaumometer going off.  Smiling behind his mask, the masked dwarf opened the door.

"Come in, Emdief.  There is much to discuss."

--------------

Once Emdief had seated herself, the masked dwarf spoke,
"You know of the fractaldwarf, do you not."
"I do know who that is.  What about him," Emdief replied guardedly.
"I was wondering if you could shed any insight into how his magic works."
Emdief frowned, "Can't you figure that out without my help?"
The masked dwarf sighed, "I know you don't like me, Emdief.  But I didn't come here for a fight.  I came here for a discussion, intellectual to intellectual."

--------------

"What mortals call magic is really anything but.  With two notable exceptions, magic itself is merely an extension of will into the physical world."

"You see, the laws of the world, while firm, are not entirely immutable.  With enough effort, one can cause minor changes in the way that the world works, at least on a small scale and temporarily.  Even normal mortals can occasionally use small amounts of magic, though not anything that would show up on a thaumometer."
Seeing Emdief's frown, the masked dwarf clarified, "it usually happens when someone passionately believes something and verbalizes it.  Their belief, if it holds true to the core of their being, can actually cause others to come around to their point of view, not necessarily through logic but through sheer force of belief.  While it would not show up on a Thaumometer, they are actually generating a small amount of magical energy, warping slightly the minds of their listeners."
"Some mortals are better than others at resisting magic.  A rare few can resist magic on a scale larger then the minor energies that most people can generate.  You are one of those, though you may not know it.  I have tried to do what most would call mind reading on you, but you innately resist my influence."
"Even the greatest willpower, however, can only generate so much mystical force.  That is why most magic users have to make pacts with other entities to get their power.  What they are actually doing is making a deal that the entity will put their willpower behind their efforts, massively increasing the effects.  As you have guessed, that is how I get my power: I made a deal with the true gods."
"The two exceptions are adamantine and the fractaldwarf.  Adamantine has been around as long as anyone can remember, and nobody truly knows where it came from.  Not even the true gods have any idea: when they were banished, the adamantine was already there."

---------------

"Now, I've enlightened you as to the nature of magic.  So, tell me what you know about the fractaldwarf, and I'll share what I know."[\i]

4maskwolf

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #157 on: December 27, 2013, 01:44:19 am »

FYI, I nominated Steelhold for the hall of legends.

Gnorm

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #158 on: December 27, 2013, 02:04:45 am »

FYI, I nominated Steelhold for the hall of legends.
To arms everyone! Vote for this fortress in the Hall!
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Gnorm

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #159 on: December 27, 2013, 02:44:57 am »

Corley's Log:

The gobs have packed up and gone home, though they have left quite a bit of damage behind. Their trolls managed to break into my father's tomb and tear it to pieces. His mutilated remains lie across the bloodstained floor, and the entire room smells of rotten troll. The very sight of it nearly brought me to tears, and memories of my father began to resurface. Even though he was a madman, he was my father, and he never did me any wrong.

Rhaken was surprisingly sympathetic; I suppose that even he understands what is due to the dead. He told me that whatever is to proceed regarding the reconstruction of the tomb is up to me. I suppose that I'll tell him to reconstruct it as it was before, albeit with some disk traps in the antechamber. As a token of gratitude, I've made a jar of pipe tobacco formed of valley herbs and bloated tubers to give to Rhaken during our meeting. I didn't even poison it; not this time.

Lastly, I've dug up some newly-found paper scraps of my father's. It seems as if he kept a watchful eye on his extended family, as I've discovered a shocking secret about cousin Melek. I hesitate to even write it in this log. I am heavily debating as to whether or not I should confront her about this. Until I have an answer, this information must remain in my mind alone.


By the way Rhaken, Lenehan was Melek's first-cousin, not her uncle.
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fractalman

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #160 on: December 27, 2013, 07:06:43 am »

Overnight...practically the entire fortress was asking about me and my magic.
This...was not a forseen contigency, and would require some thought. on the one hand, I could pass off the truth as just pandering to those asking me questions; those with enough wisdom to see it as truth would hopefully be ones with the desire to let me patch the portal up.   Reveal things in the wrong order, and I'd risk a riot on my hands. "I built a portal. It tore holes in reality."-if I misjudged and too many dwarves believed me, I wouldn't get the chance to say "and I have a plan to patch it up. " 


While thinking about how my speech would go, however, I decided to talk with someone who wasn't talking about me.

Namely, Corley.



"I hear your fathers tomb got desecrated. "
Corley snorted. "What do you want?"
"Many things.  But one of them is something you want as well: to fix up your father's tomb once we have the chance."

corley shrugged. "Rhaken's planning to fix it up as well, So I don't really care.  Your point was?"
I smiled softly.  "I don't know much about him...but if what little I know is true, then he wouldn't mind sharing his tomb with some memorials to trees.  And I think I have the perfect inscription for some trees."
"And that would be?"
"To: tree. We never knew ye, never really wanted to know ye, but here's to ye anyways, rest in pieces. "
corley looked at me, eye twitching.
"...the elves love it for some weird reason.  I'll tell you how I found that out some other time.  lets just say it involved four humans, an unholy mix of dwarvish, human, and elvish brews, and an elf, and that was just to name the horse dragon....oh wait, that was different elf civ, one that had a bizzare sense of humor even for elves."
"...whut?"
"...on second thought, I'll just have 10 slabs ingraved with "tree: RIP" and have them set up by your fathers tomb.  That sound great?"

Corley nodded, not yet sure if he was nodding to get rid of the dwarf, or because he liked the idea.  Possibly both.




-I think I'll leave the IC emdief, maskdwarf, and Rhaken to figuring me out.  It would be a fun-stopping record-scratch to add "and fractaldwarf, with his absurd sense of timing, walked in and blurted out 'oh, yeah, I kinda ripped a hole in reality with one portal, and need to reverse the polarity to fix the hole.' "
And yes, I spent too much time on TVtropes a while back. 
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This is a masterwork ledger.  It contains 3719356 pages on the topic of the precise number and location of stones in Spindlybrooks.  In the text, the dwarves are hauling.
"And here is where we get the undead unicorns. Stop looking at me that way, you should have seen the zombie deer running around last week!"

MDFification

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #161 on: December 27, 2013, 01:05:24 pm »

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Emdief's face remained passive, despite the massive urge to grin. So, the masked dwarf didn't know as much as it thought. Or it was trying to give that impression. You can't take anything about magic at face value; experimentation to confirm things tends to end disastrously.
"Well then. Good to know magic is countered by doubt. I'll tell you what you need to know."
Although it was impossible to tell beneath the mask, Emdief new the prophet was smiling. With how much arrogance, it was impossible to know.
"The first thing you need to know is his source of magic. He carries with him a book. I haven't examined it closely, but it's a massive thaumaturgical anomaly. It radiates power directly to him, but it's more strange than that. Its emissions vary wildly. If a consciousness is required to generate magic, I'd be uncertain of this book's sanity. If it isn't a conscious entity, it's drawing power through it from somewhere I can't detect. Something that's not part of our mundane reality."
Emdief looked the masked prophet straight in the eyes - or at least straight in the eye-holes.
"I don't know what your planning to do with this information, and I assume it won't end well. But I've said my piece. The only other thing I could tell you that you haven't mentioned in that your 'true gods' aren't the only ones. I've seen a dwarf get cursed before. Some entity, or entities, protects the gods' temples. But I assume your masters would have told you that, and you know full well what you risk by blaspheming against our more traditional deities."
"Now it's your turn. I need to know what you're planning with the adamantine. Because believe you me, I have no intention of meeting your gods. And if it's possible for me to do so, I think I can arrange for them not wanting to meet me, either. You might not have known, but my progeny are here. My safety, and that of my legacy, is non-negotiable."
At first Emdief didn't know what the noise was, and no alarm showed on his face upon realizing what it was. The masked dwarf was laughing.
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Rhaken

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #162 on: December 27, 2013, 10:09:48 pm »

The lad has done me proud.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I've since told that lazy bum of a leatherworker to get cracking with the backpacks and leather armor. He'll get right on it, he says. After this month-long break. Asshole. Armok forbid we get some prisoners with some work ethic. I went through my files and checked what he's in for. Dereliction of duty and massive procrastination. Yep. Sounds about right.

The lads have been getting antsy, flinging around entirely too many insults during drills in the barracks. I gave them a few months off duty, at least until early autumn. Should help keep them off each other's throats. In some bygone age, when I was young and in the actual army, we'd just carry on training and deal with it. But these aren't civilian conscripts fulfilling their civic duty. These are hardened criminals with a callous disregard for anyone but themselves who didn't know what 'cooperation' meant until I started beating them over the head with it. Hopefully the break will improve their sour moods. If it doesn't, it's more drills for everyone.




The filthy cannibals have come to trade. We old-timers all know what this means. The idiots have probably been trailed by an entire army of goblins and didn't notice a thing. That they didn't notice that they were being followed through this barren waste either speaks highly of goblin camouflage, or poorly of elven eyesight. If the elves bothered to guard their caravans like everybody else, they might not get butchered so easily.

At least they came at a good time. We're running out of lumber. We are also in desperate need of bins, beds, and soap. It was just this morning, when I went through the pile of reports on my desk, that it came to my attention that many of the inmates don't have a cell to rest in. The miners are now busy digging out a new cell block below the catacomb levels. It should have plenty of space for digging downwards in case we need to expand. There were also complaints about the lack of space for chairs and dining tables, so the miners went and dug that up too. They stumbled into part of the tunnel system in the process, but they patched that up with a makeshift wall.

This bin shortage is killing efficiency. Rather than haul a bin full of goods up to the depot, everyone is clutching a single bone figurine or glass goblet and hauling it to the depot. It's taking forever. By the time they are halfway done, I give up and tell the lads to unlock the vampire's office and drag his ass out here. He begins negotiations almost immediately. All of their lumber, animals, hooch and some of their food for a pile of bone figurines and some other crap.

Something is wrong though. After some time negotiating, the conversation turns sour, and the elves begin packing. I guess the idiot vampire tried to sell them something made of wood by mistake, and now they refuse to trade. Oh well. I walk up to the caravan master, ready to play the role of the peacekeeper.


"Is there a problem, sir?"

The elf scowls at me, arms crossed. He gazes down at me, smug as a nobleman. "You have tried to sell us the mangled remains of a beautiful tree. We did not trek across this harsh desert, far from our homes, to be... to be insulted thus! I demand to speak to the dwarf in charge."

"That would be me." The elf seems taken aback by this. What did he expect, a dwarf with a leaf robe and garlands in his hair?

"Fine then. On behalf of the elven race, I hereby demand you apologize for your crimes against nature and insults against elven culture."

"Very well." All this formality is giving me the urge to throw up. "On behalf of dwarvenkind and by the authority vested in me by the people of Steelhold, I hereby apologize for the errors of my broker. Now, if you would be so kind as to cease packing so we may continue to trade-"

"I think not," the elf spits, staring daggers at me. "Apology or no, we do not deal with savages such as yourselves. Better luck next year."

It takes most of my self-control not to burst out laughing. Instead, I resort to the age old deadpan comedy trick: the thick scowl. "You seem quite fond of making demands. Very well. I have a demand of my own." I close the distance to the long-eared prick, staring him down. "You will cease unpacking and continue trading immediately. Or we can do this the hard way. Your choice."

"Absolutely not." He looks unshaken, but his voice betrays his thoughts. He fears for his life now. If only he knew how to hide it.

"So be it."

I signal for my lads to surround the depot. "Seize the goods." The elves protest, try to protect the merchandise. I stare down their leader again, hand hovering near the grip of my morningstar. "Dont make this harder than it already is."

His shoulders slump in defeat. He gives a command in elvish, and the rest of the caravan settles down, dejected, and let us take what we want.

"All this could have been avoided if you were a bit more forgiving," I tell the elf, who glares daggers at me. "Better luck next year."



Morul runs up to me with a scouting report. Another situation down in the caverns. As if the occasional troglodyte tribe wasn't annoying enough. Let's hope it's not as bad as that giant cave spider from last month that ate one of the hunters.

Oh wait. It's not.

It's much fucking worse.


Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The military scrambles downward, taking up positions by the cavern entrance. They argue in hushed tones.

"You think it'll come flying down on us?"

"Probably, but if it does, we'll hear it."

"But owls are silent fliers."

"Even giant ones?"

"Quiet, the lot of you," I command. They have enough discipline to shut up and nod.

For a while, nothing happens. All we can hear are the natural dripping of the stalactites and the overhead scuttling of bats. The calm of it all begins to unnerve the lads. Not that I blame them. This is like hunting yetis, except the yetis are the ones hunting you. And flying.

Tirist is the first to spot it. He points toward the ceiling of the cavern. I can't make it out at first, but then the massive thing moves into sight, bearing down on one of the recruits holding up the front line.

Good thing the recruit is a speardwarf. The beast impales itself on his weapon, and the rest of us are upon it in an instant. It is not as resilient as the previous beast, and eventually falls to a crossbow bolt through the eye and into the brain.


Spoiler (click to show/hide)



I stare at the jar of tobacco that Corley gave me. It sits on my desk, its contents untouched, inviting me to take up the habit. I almost feel tempted to give in, but I know it's a bad idea. A doctor from the mountainhomes proved the correlation between smoking and lung disease decades ago. Not much use shortening what little time I have left.

I can feel it in my bones. I am old now, even by dwarven standards. Asmoth's husband died of old age just last year, and he was younger than me. I have reached the ripe old age of one-hundred fifty-eight. I should count my blessings and try to live a good life. It's part of what I'm trying to do here. Steelhold was a miserable hole in the ground full of dwarves who, in one way or another, broke the sometimes ridiculous laws of the mountainhomes. I tried to bring it order. Hope. Something they could hold on to, something to help them break free and become independent from the corrupt bastards back home.

Lately, I've been asking myself the same question over and over: why do I do this? Why do I put my neck out for these ungrateful lunatics? Is it some misguided sense of justice? I stopped believing in justice when Kivish Brasswords took the throne. When the cyclopes... bah, nevermind that now. I took this place over, for better or for worse. I guess a part of it is still me being a selfish manipulative bastard with a thirst for power.

A knock on the door. Sighing, I haul my ass out of the chair. Bones creak as I rise. It hasn't become painful, not yet. But it will soon. I've been sleeping longer and breathing harder too. All signs of my own mortality sneaking up on me. I guess dying of old age would be pretty good for a dwarf like me.

The door swings open, and in comes Datan, one of my squaddies and possibly the first dwarf in Steelhold to call me 'chief'. He brings me reports from my unseen eyes around the fort. I thank him, send him on his way, and start reading.

And as I read, the pieces all fall into place. And I discover why, sometimes, it sucks to be right.
« Last Edit: December 28, 2013, 08:18:40 pm by Rhaken »
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Of course, he may have simply crushed the forgotten beasts with his massive testicles.

Forget a spouse, he needs a full time gonad wrangler.

Gnorm

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #163 on: December 27, 2013, 10:43:35 pm »

Corley's Log:

The king accepted my blend of tobacco, though I could see it in his eyes that he had no intention of consuming it. Had I'd known he was a strict non-smoker, I would have given him snuff; I succeeded only in wasting perfectly good tobacco. He is aging quickly, I can see it in the way that he acts -- the way that he speaks. I noticed similar things in my father during his last days; the characteristics of a dwarf whose life is going to come to an end soon are always the same. Perhaps, even with his impressive militaristic record, he will not be an optimal choice for my project. I should not lose faith completely though, he may very well last a while longer.

I suppose that I should request an audience with him, just to be certain as to whether or not I should focus on a new dwarf. He
is old, after all, so he might be easy to manipulate if done properly. A "nice tea" might appeal to him, if the rumors that spread amongst the hardy workers down in the forges are to be believed. If not, "booze" is the weakness of even the noblest of dwarves. I'll send my request to his secretary forthwith.
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And we were this close to yet another victim of Gnorm, the Overseer Killer.

fractalman

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Re: The Insidious Sons of Steelhold -- Revival Succession Fortress
« Reply #164 on: December 28, 2013, 02:23:58 am »

It has been drawn to my attention that there are, in fact, inspections that need to be dealt with...and far too many dwarves who have a bad habit of sleep-stabbing other dwarves. 
I have redrawn my bedroom plans to account for this, with the inclusion of a chain, and a chair+table in each room. hopefully most dwarves will continue to use the 'official' dining room.   although...heheh!


But now...to deal with rhaken.  The end of his reign approacheth...



*knock knock*
"Come in."
I opened the door to Rhaken's office.

"Ah, Fractal. What is your buisiness here?"

I helped myself to a chair. "I need the adamant."

Rhaken gazed at me, his face kept neutral. "And just why are you asking me for it? surely you must know I'm not the one who knows where it is."
"True.  However, the masked dwarf has offered it to me on the condition...that I get rid of you."
Rhaken's face darkened.  "And so you would kill me."-it was just barely a question.
"On the contrary. I need you alive just as much as I need the adamant."
"..."
"I want to fake your death.  Once I have the adamant, you will be revealed as still alive."

"And I suppose you'd be willing to just let me retake power once you woke me up?"-sarcasm, of course. 

I laughed sheepishly. "Well...not quite.  I propose a triumvirate of sorts: you, in charge of military matters, while I take charge of luxury matters like bedrooms."
Rhaken raised an eyebrow. "Alternatively, I could carry on as overseer."

I shook my head. "Lets not play that game.  Maskdwarf wants you out of the way for some reason or other.  I have enough dwarves on my side to overwhelm your boys through sheer numbers, albeit at great cost.  You simply can't remain as overseer for much longer no matter what you do...but my way, you can retain a fair amount of power, possibly untill you die of old age."
Rhaken considered this. 
"all well and good...but who would be the third member?"
"Isn't it obvious? you'd be millitary, I'd be luxury, and that leaves Mechanics."
"Emdief?"
I nodded. "oh. and I think we'll have corley make up the fake-death drug."
"...do I want to know?"
"Oh. well, he's one of the fort's best chemists...er, poison experts."
"ah. is that all?"
I nodded.
As I left, rhaken muttered, "this either changes everything or nothing..."
Logged
This is a masterwork ledger.  It contains 3719356 pages on the topic of the precise number and location of stones in Spindlybrooks.  In the text, the dwarves are hauling.
"And here is where we get the undead unicorns. Stop looking at me that way, you should have seen the zombie deer running around last week!"
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