Scholarly Observations on the Distracting Rainy-Point, 1st Opal, 2
Death and Rivers! Rivers or Death! Truly, my worship of Arel has been reinforced by this unhappy turn of events. For if we do not find a river belowground, we surely all shall die.
It is not a happy thought. Not at all.
But I think of the Distracting Rainy-point, and my fears subside momentarily. I must study it to the exception of all else.
Letter to Trueattic
My Friends in the Service of the Kingdom
It is the duty of a secret serviceman to lay down his life for his country, and if these letters ever reach you, know that I did so willingly. I am confused by the actions of Litast Borering, the expedition leader, who instead of thinking about the pile of goods outside has decided to tunnel to the caverns beneath the world for water, a task that will not be completed before we all die of thirst. What is this dwarf's agenda, constantly arguing that we should go deeper, and through his own ineptness has forced us underground so soon?
In the interests of keeping myself alive, I suggested that we tunnel through to the stocks left in a pile outside, full of dwarven beer barrels, while the undead horses are distracted. It will be a dangerous operation, especially due to the presence of an undead cat nearby, but we must strive.
Journal of Osorast
Oh dear oh dear oh dear. We are tunneling down, and to the supplies, but will we be in time? My throat feels like giant cave spiders clad in wooden armour are crawling up and down it.
There is water all around us, but it is frozen. This is possibly the most unpleasant fact of our imminent deaths.
The undead dogs skins escaped and attacked the herbalist amid clouds of miasma as the bodies of the dogs rot, uneaten flesh going rotten.
We are currently hacking them to bits with battle axes. The parts will probably reanimate, but oh well. We are also digging our way to the drink stores left outside. The undead cat may see us, but we should be able to finish it. The horse thralls fight on and on in a pit somewhere, oblivious to anything but the shattering kicks of their opponent smashing them into a fine paste. They are hardier than anything I have seen before. Even horrific beasts of the caverns feel pain and can be killed if their injuries are hideous enough. But these creatures have no limit.
The skin on the dog's head has reanimated. It is proving even less dangerous, but much harder to kill. As everyone attacks it, I am forced to construct a last-hope drawbridge shutting us off from the tunnel to the pile of booze outside... I hope it will not come to this.
There is no time. Urist Nevaslucar has died of thirst. We must break through to the booze now.
Agonisingly, it takes an age to carve out a shoddy last set of stairs... we are there! Alcohol! Liquids! Our aching throats are soothed!
Here, several pages have been torn out or come loose from the journal.
The cat approaches as each dwarf scurries up and drinks, but is summarily beheaded with a pick. The dog head skin continues to hold several dwarves underground fighting, as they struggle to extricate themselves from the fray. Perhaps a pick will kill it?
The other dogs head skin has turned undead. Urist will turn soon, but we may kill him, unlike these terrible slippery scraps of undead life. We must remember that he can kill us.
Urist has risen. Only Doren wavewheeled has escaped from the horrific fray, as he quietly worships in a corner. I shout to him to wall himself off, but he rises from his meditation and plunges into a battle against a force he cannot defeat. I, cowering in the tunnel between the outdoor drunk cache and the massacre, am the only one left. I listen to the defeated cries of the herbalist Ber Thikut, a once might battle-axe wielding slayer of undead, now supine and senseless as killing blows from the merciless Urist rain down on her.
It is horrific, but it falls to me to wall away my friends... none have a chance of survival, and once the dead Urist has finished with them, he will come for me, and the others will rise in turn. I must act now.
The next few pages are almost entirely illegible.
I had no choice! It was not my fault, there was nothing I could have done, it was for the good of Kingdomsabre! Oh, vainglorious name, to think we named you so pridefully and fell so soon. My friends and comrades in adversity are dying behind me, in a glimmering prison of bloodstained ice. I CAN HEAR THEM SCREAMING THROUGH THE WALLS.
Wait. Some have survived, if only for instants, I hear them talking. I must save them now. But have I the courage? The spy from the mountainhome has escaped as well... no, he is crawling, leading the undead to the others... I cannot watch!
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Topic: Succession world: df 2017 : A new start (Read 121032 times)