Inquiries on StrangewallsThis is a yak leather bound codex. On the item is a rendition of “The Silent Master” In Opal. It is the symbol of “The Doomed Faction” a local dwarven government. The image consists of a dwarf and a mountain. The dwarf is prostrating itself before the mountain. The mountain is striking a menacing pose. The written portion consists of an essay on the history of the dwarven outpost Motadil, “Strangewalls”. The tone of writing is somewhat self-indulgent and takes occasional rambling tangents. Overall the prose is passable.Foreword In the beginning there was nothing - as far as we know. The truth is we know nothing of the beginning, and personally I find folly in those who claim to know truths which have not yet been corroborated by a minimum of three separate primary sources. By the word of the first writings from our great lineage we awoke in Oram Lathon out of the rocks of the mountainsides themselves, ripped free from the earth crying in agony and fear as a babe is pulled from their mother.
According to these legends, one of our ancestors broke free from the great slumber alone. She stood blinking in bewilderment between the sun and the underworld, and was named Nil Bermigrur. It was she who witnessed the shapes of our kin, still buried half under the rocky slopes. Their bodies were hidden from the sun under grass, moss and stone, as ancient and unexplained as the mountain itself, but betrayed by the shape she now recognised as her own.
She pulled first from the earth Etur Bomrekadil, wrenching him by his beard as the grower harvests a pigtail from the farms today. As he wept before her in the light she knew that she loved him, and spoke the opening word to be uttered by our kind, which was “Ilir!”, joyous in the common lingo.
It was then we discovered our native tongue. Though we may learn the languages of other creatures, we have always known these words. They were given to us by the gods some say; I know not the truth of the matter as there are none to contest it, but it is as certain as can be that our historical writings began within the generation of our first kin and have not faltered since.
Nil and Etur heaved the rest of their tribe from the rocks one by one, until there was only one shape left under the ground. But when they recovered their final brother, they found not one of our kind but two shapes sat one atop the other. The objects were odd in both form and material; like neither our kindred, nor the rocks, soil and plants which surrounded them. They called the first “Zuntir”; it was heavy and flat, and could not be deformed by any other material they could find. The other they named “Tekkud”. It was similarly resilient but pointed at fore and back and with a curious handle positioned such that it could be swung by dwarven hands.
With Tekkud they carved their first shelter in the side of the mountains, and they named that place Fikukmistem, the first mountainhome of Kadol Ad. There they discovered and learned the use of metals which they shaped on the back of Zuntir to make tools, weapons, armor and the many wonders of that early time.
Nil married Etur, and was crowned first Queen of our people. It was by all accounts a joyful time where we were still naive to the evils of the world. Acrobats pranced, stories and poems were told, and music joyfully played.
From those times onward our peoples were assaulted by a near constant barrage of horrific creatures, from raging cyclops, to the forgotten beasts of the deep, to the great rocs of the sky.
Fikukmistem was destroyed in her 60th year by the one we know as Oth Iklistsethal Nazomgakit. Our kind were forced to flee our ancestral home to their other young bastions across the land. Nil was brutally killed in the attack, along with her youngest son Kogan and three others. A dark time indeed in our history.
But why do I recite this story, which near every young dwarf able to carry his tankard has at least some passing familiarity? It is not this story which I wish to tell, but it there is an important parallel between it and my primary subject matter; complacency. Naivety. A lack of preparedness. These are the things that brought Fikukmistem to the ground, more so than the whims of Oth.
And so it was with Motadil. The Doomed Faction sought to expand our empire north beyond the forsaken lands, away from the crowded temperate belts we share with the other dwarven civilisations. They of course knew the stories of a haunted and alien landscape, unlike anything in the world we knew. A strange nightmare from whence few had returned, and always with raving, half-gibbered tales of the most outlandish things. They did not take these reports to heart, assumed that mere morbid fantasy, perhaps difficult terrain, was the cause of our race’s failure to survey the distant mountains.
But one tale they did heed was that of gold. Gold, accessible from shallow seams, abundant and visible to even the least educated of peasants.
With the dreams of glory and riches in their eyes, and a land deed approved by the Queen’s seal, the seven left their grand mountainhome to make a name for themselves. And so they did. This is their story.
The following account is pieced together from numerous written sources I have managed to collate and interviews (conducted by myself) with those who witnessed the site with their own eyes while it was still inhabited.
It is a peculiar tale, however so many of the sources agree on key figures and events that it is unlikely to be constructed entirely through fabrication and exaggeration – there indeed must be valuable assets and strange phenomena located in these mountain ranges. Due to the stigma the place has acquired it may be many a year before we dare to send another expedition to attempt to reclaim Motadil. My hope is to prevent the unnecessary demise of any dwarf foolish enough to do so by instilling an appropriate sense of caution regarding the potential dangers to be expected.
Chapter I : The founding of Motadil, “Strangewalls”.
[The following are excerpts from the expedition log of Outpost Liason to the Kingdom of Kadol Ad, Kadol Kasducim]
8th Limestone, Year 250
As we travel north-east through the forsaken land of Deteriorated Hill we notice the air changing, becoming hotter and drier, even at this late season. We no longer require our thick yak wool coats and have stowed them until we return to more familiar climes. The pack animals have no such fortune, and have taken on a somewhat ornery attitude from their discomfort.
10th Limestone
Today we gained sight of the Tooth of Crossing shortly after recommencing the drive. I must admit that I feel a sense of dread at the vision of that lonesome range. I look forward to locating the expedition and confirming their safe arrival, yet all the same I fear approaching that long forbidden place myself. I pray to the gods that the stories I have heard are naught but baseless superstition!
Continuing north-east would take us into the Dune of incidents, which would be difficult to cross with the caravan. We will skirt around the desert to the east then travel north to the site from there. I fear we will struggle with the cargo from this point, however we are prepared to split the party to take only the essentials if required.
11th Limestone
We arrived within the proximity of the mountains early in the evening, after spending the day curving around the thin path between the Dune of Incidents and the Forests of Impaling. The rough terrain has taken its toll on us all, but most of all the wagons. We will not be able to bring them further. I note that the caravaneers left to guard the consignment are somewhat less than dismayed at this proposition.
From our vantage point in the valley we have seen some bizarre and perplexing things. High up in the peaks we have witnessed strange banks of blue mist that gather as if from nowhere, and sweep disconcertingly across the mountaintops only to vanish akin to a trick of the light. And sometimes they appear to move against the prevailing wind!
What’s more, while the barren rocky waste of this place is generally unpleasant it is as nothing compared to what life does grow here! Wormy, writhing tendrils that have more in common with animals than plants, despite that they be rooted to the earth. And globular, wet growths that I swear have the appearance of eyes… and they even swivel to follow our movements!
The flora is rare in this part of the valley, but we can see they become more common the closer we approach to the area specified on the deed. We have loaded the goods we believe will be of most use to the colonists onto the pack animals, and will proceed the rest of the way on foot in the morning.
I know not how I will sleep in this dreadful place… the quiet is disturbing, and the sounds generated by our group echo in the most unnatural ways around the valley. Sometimes the echoes recombine in such a way as to make it sound as if voices which are not present are speaking.
12th Limestone
We are here at the site, and none too soon! I have become increasingly nervous of the odd character of this mountain outcrop. I even start to doubt my own astuteness – can these odd sights and sounds be real? Sometimes I feared perhaps I was walking in a stupor, sick with some fever of which I did not remember the origin… but no. We found the entrance by the animals stationed outside. I was sickened at how they consumed the wriggling purple grasses and the staring globes, but the yak at least looked in good health. The donkey however – ye gods! Bulbous sores and weeping wounds encompassed its form. Most of its head I could barely discern, it was certainly blind in one eye and lame.
We also witnessed signs of initial exploratory digging around what was unmistakably a gold seam close-by – gold ore piled loosely amongst the rubble.
The entrance to the settlement is sheltered in a natural cleft in the mountainside. A wide tunnel with two long ditches at either side led inside. We were greeted there by the expedition leader Cilob Lamfeb, eyes ringed by dark shadows but grinning all the same, leaning by a well-designed and solidly built diorite trade depot, in keeping with the natural stone. He bade us in and spoke warmly, but notably did not assist with the unpacking of the cargo. There are no comfortable accommodations constructed as yet, and we have made do with a spot on the ground to spread our camp beds.
Additional note; Ducks. Why are there so many ducks?! Everywhere I look the damn creatures crowd around, quacking incessantly. Of all the livestock to bring, what possessed them?! I counted eight!
13th Limestone
This morning after we breakfasted on our own supplies, myself and Cilob retired to a make-shift office near the depot to discuss the business of trade and recent events. Predictably given the barren nature of the area the outpost requires shipments of wood, and have also requested white sand and steel for delivery next year. In return I have highlighted the items which the mountainhome has the most interest in acquiring from her vassal states.
I inquired as to the condition of the animal outside and he claimed that none of them knew for sure the cause of its ailment, but they did not suspect the food source. When first the donkey was discovered in such a state (shortly after the camp had been established) a strange blue soot covered its coat, similar in hue to the mysterious clouds we witnessed from the valley. They reasoned that the two events may be linked, and have since enforced a strict mustering procedure for when similar vapors drift down from the peaks. I would have questioned why they did not put the beast out of its misery, but I already know the truth of it. They wish to see how the illness progresses to determine how it may affect one of our kind caught unawares. That, and the ever-present attitude of the frontiersman; even potentially poisoned food is better than no food at all, should you find yourself starving to death.
In census there are thirteen settlers, the initial party of seven bolstered by a following group who have joined them in the summer months. The newer settlers have a slightly different air to those who had come in the first wave, and one I can sympathise with – they are not yet accustomed to the unusual atmosphere of the place, and still look ill at ease.
With regards to the ducks – Cilob claims that they are essential to colonisation in hot barren climates, and proved very defensive when I pointed out that typically they were found in hospitable aquatic locations. I have given up pushing the point.
My host has also informed me that not only have they discovered gold seams, but also sphalerite, galena and cobaltite. The site indeed has promising mineral returns, and I can understand the monarchy’s interest in funding such an expedition.
Cilob briefly introduced me to his wife Mafol Lertethastesh. It was something of an awkward affair, as although he was enthusiastic that I should meet her and in good spirits, I could tell that she was seething at him from some recent quarrel to which he seemed oblivious. From our conversations together I feel he is something of an argumentative type, and I would not be surprised if he sees verbal jousting as a friendly sport – an attitude few share.
14th Limestone
The settlers traded cut gems for some wood, a bin of cloth, a bin of leather, steel bars, a copper breastplate, a bronze mace and a bronze war hammer, plus some assorted foods. The trade was managed by Lolor Ustuthmusar, the local manager, broker, bookkeeper, architect and engineer. She is a most talented dwarf.
I have been given a tour of the asset by Mafol, who seems in a better mood today. They have set up and impressively sized yet somewhat sparse larder, connected via a long passage to one of the few fertile stretches of soil accessible in the local region. I have little doubt that with careful management they will be able to eke out a living her, but home comforts are few – no bed chambers, as I have previously noted, no dining area, no water source (bar the nearby stream which washes through those hateful plants), nor even any tankards or chairs. Water, Mafol assures me, will be plentiful when they have completed the aqueduct project which is currently ongoing. Naturally, brewing will also be a priority as soon as a suitable food surplus is established.
There is a well excavated area in the lower levels which will serve to be the production complex, and having seen the plans for expansion I am satisfied that this will in time prove a hive of industry.
Mafol (as local sheriff) is rather concerned about the lack of an organised defensive force, and I am inclined to agree with her. Scouts from our caravan group confirmed sightings of goblin settlements to the north which are likely to become a problem should they become aware of the colonists. She informed me the ditches we witnessed at the entrance are to be utilised as a form of mechanised defense, but would not elaborate on how that will function precisely. I must say I am somewhat offended, as official liaison to the mountainhome I should be fully briefed on such things – this insubordination will certainly feature in my report!
From the production floor a small shaft is excavated vertically and has located a flooded underground cavern. While there are giant fungi in-situ suitable as a source of timber there, the waters make them inaccessible. However, should the company run short of food the fishing will no doubt provide a welcome source of sustenance. Breaching this cavern layer has also allowed the settlers to culture the fertile ground of the growing area with spores – soon enough fungi will grow there to permit the poor beasts outside to shelter from the corrosive mists in the welcome embrace of the earth.
7th Sandstone
I have spent some time in the colony now and am seeing slow improvements all around – the animals are safely residing inside the meadow-room, and the nesting area for the fowl is complete, with them stowed behind closed doors rather than causing an ever-present tripping hazard in the foyer. I must admit that I have grown rather fond of the ducks and feed them crumbled plump helmet on occasion.
I find a proud satisfaction in watching the group go about their daily chores. With each task this place glorifies our people further. Now that I have become accustomed to the local atmosphere, my initial fears have subsided. Alien it may be, but I am confident that with future investment this will one day be a colony to make all Kadol Ad proud – perhaps it even has the potential to outdo our other ventures!
Also I believe I have determined the nature of the planned defensive measures. Those ditches in the entrance corridor have been covered with a series of retractable bridges. I spoke with Lolor, who confided she had been responsible for the design of the bridge panels and construction of the operating mechanisms. She indicated that the bridges would be retracted in an emergency to leave only a narrow path into Motadil proper. I suspect that this path will be rigged with traps or covered with crossbow fire to force the attacking army to leap into the ditches. From the mining and engraving teams I have seen trooping down to the lower levels periodically, I am quite sure those “ditches” will by now be a veritable chasm.
12th Sandstone
It is time for the caravan to continue with their journey. I bade farewell to Asen and Uvash as the wagon pulled away. I will stay with the outpost for now to document the progress of the colony for the remainder of the year at least.
17th Sandstone
The third expeditionary wave arrived today, bringing the population to twenty-two. I was amused at their nervous demeanor and the frightened way they spoke of the journey through the sinister valley, remembering my own travels.
13th Opal
One of the latest settlers – the armorer Odom Asobemal – started acting very oddly today. She keeps muttering “Keshanshem Akil Mukar” and motioning as if hammering metal. By her behavior I would say she is suffering a stress-induced mental breakdown.
17th Opal
Cilob requested that one of the dwarves set up a forge and we led Odom to it. At the sight of the forge she set to work, taking the steel traded for earlier in the year and starting to work it.
22nd Opal
Odom emerged from the forge dazed and confused, but in a more normal frame of mind. In her hands she held the most wondrous thing; a single steel high boot of fantastic design. On it there is engraved a scene depicting the crowning of old King Atir Adaszefon. Odom remembers nothing from the past nine days but is in good health. When questioned about why she doesn’t make another boot to match the first, she claims that the craftsdwarfship required to make it is far beyond her level of skill.
25th Obsidian
Something terrible has happened to Sazir Ralngotun – we found him by the well. He is in much the same condition as the donkey, blistered and disfigured, and in a constant fever. He can barely speak, and has not been able to communicate what happened to him. There is no sign of the strange soot on him, but we believe he may have been attempting to wash himself.
28th Obsidian
The last day of winter is now upon us, although the climate has barely wavered in all the time I have been here. It never rains, and as always the dry heat permeates. As I write it is evening, and the new year approaches. I will drink with Cilob tonight, with whom I have become good friends. I think back on what the settlers have achieved here so far, and am filled with a great longing to see what we will make of Motadil in time. As soon as they can produce enough fuel to fire the forge and smelters, our people will be very rich indeed.
Play analysis: Well, that wasn’t too bad for the first year. I was taking things somewhat cautiously to begin with because I wasn’t certain if this was going to be a resurrecting biome or not. This meant that my workshops didn’t really get busy until the second half of the year, and there were far more idlers than I would normally tolerate to begin with. It has also taken quite a while to build up a plump helmet stock so I’m frequently running out of booze, but it will come in time.
I’ve got no idea what happened to poor Sazir, whether he was caught in the soot clouds outside or contaminated by milking the donkey. Hopefully when I get my hospital set up a doctor can help him. The donkey still lives though, so I don’t think his condition will kill him any time soon.
The lack of wood is a problem right now, and is preventing me from making use of the impressive resources available underground. Also it means I have very limited accommodation, with my dwarves “hot-bunking” until we get more wood delivered. I have tried to locate the second cavern layer with an exploratory shaft but have had no luck so far.
I’m not sure why Kadol is still hanging around the trade depot long after the wagon left – I assumed she would leave with the caravan. Guess I’ll just have to keep writing from her perspective until she gets bored and goes home!
The site really is very close to some goblin outposts… I’m going to need to complete my defensive measures soon if I want to survive more than a few years.
And Cilob really does quarrel with his wife (which he enjoys and she hates). I find it hilarious.
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