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Author Topic: Geshud Osod, the Fortress of Bones (Community/Story in Legendary Lands)  (Read 98507 times)

Paulus Fahlstrom

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Re: Geshud Osod, the Fortress of Bones (Community/Story in Legendary Lands)
« Reply #735 on: August 08, 2015, 07:08:31 pm »

((Heh, way late reply, but it was in version 40a? I think, or the previous 31.25 or whatever it was. Check DFFD for Dorenemal posting. Play continues. It is now year 69 in game, 66 years of Geshud Osod. Posting will continue to catch up and finish now that I am close. FPS isn't great when you use the entire embark map, but there are good ways to mitigate FPS loss.))

Fall of 52

Despite years of use the door closed silently leaving the room in abject darkness. No light played within as soft clanking footsteps moved towards the back corner. In the darkness nothing was visible, nothing could have been visible.

Silence followed, then a soft scratching.

Nothing.

Another soft scratching and then a flare of incandescence as the match took and the candle in a small stone dish was lit.

A warm light played over the room. It was all in order, but a thick layer of dust covered the table and chair, and the few stacks of papers. The stone chest opened silently and a book was removed. The Hound shook a rag off and wiped away the dust from a section of the table. To clean it was pointless. All the planning had already been done, only the work was left.

And there were other tables at which he could eat.

He cracked the book and read his last entry, years ago. It brought some pain to him, but that had dulled over the years. Fre would not be coming back, and work here continued.

He drew again a rough map of the area into his journal, taking meticulous care to include the new features found since the last addition.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

And then he slowly began writing.

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It has been some time since I take quill to parchment to record the happenings here. I feel we have been so busy with work and survival that on occasion a year will pass with little or no change.

But one of my projects has finally reached completion.

The Crack, accursed no longer, now is easily traversable. The High road is complete! It runs the length and breadth of the crack, from our lower boundary to the upper north-west corner. The Temple of Mondul is the center point and there is a small eating hall and food storage there.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The southern portion leads to a small living area. A barracks with beds, workshops and kitchen, dining hall and more storage for the workers on the wall. And a cavernous storage room for blocks to be held until ready for work in that region.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

With an area our size I have taken steps logistically to reduce travel time by having the rocks mined, and chiseled at the dig site. They are then stored in bins there before being moved to the final storage near where wall construction is occurring at the time. Glacies has taken over wall construction and that has been progressing as well.

The north end of the High road features a similar situation, but with only workshops. That is where the granite is located so there are significant diggings in the depths below the High road. The road itself leads up into the Wall proper via a single stair.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The High road is a significant improvement over the low road, though I do still take the lower path from time to time, if only to remember. The green glass flooring of the High road is smooth, and always cool to the touch. The walls along it have all been smoothed, thanks to Boink. And enclosures where there were once undead are now engraved and filled with decorative stautes and long-burning oil lamps. The veins of ore that were found have been similarly emptied and the mineral rich walls are to be engraved and the windy passageways of the earth veins will be filled with statue gardens at some future point.

It is truly a thing of beauty. A marvel to traverse. Nearly six thousand green glass blocks went into it's make. 5969 to be exact. I've promised Boink free reign of any of our supplies to do with as she wishes. Oddbodd too, for all their work in the glass furnaces.

And yet, for all it's beauty I do not feel satisfied. It may last a thousand years and yet I feel like my work here is unfinished. The wall is Glacies' calling, and she is serving well, though she now walks with a limp and her hands shake from time to time. Her speech is at times different as well, both in pattern and pronunciation. It's all 'ere now. and Wot wot? I fear the weather has taken a toll on her health.

Ragnar and I have been running routine patrols, and we often come across issues. The Avarii still act strange and agressive towards us. The bugs still hunt us. The goblins ... to be fair, I have not seen them in a decade. We've had no sieges at all of late. Almost surprisingly. It's almost as if there were a hush. An expectancy in the air. And now I write that I feel my anxiety returning that there remains things left undone here.

Perhaps I should begin to write more often.

Even as I write that I suspect I shall not. Heh. Too much to be done.

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Paulus closed the book and placed it back in the stone chest. Glancing at his desk he picked up a brass orb, of curious workmanship. Oddbodd had made it and given one to him on the 40th anniversary of their arrival. It was a time-keeper. He turned it upside-down and wound it again. It featured some sort of clockwork mechanism inside, wound steel in a brass frame. It functioned as a time-keeper in three axes. Horizontal to the table were the days of the year, perpendicular to that the months of the dwarven calendar and perpendicular to the other two the year itself, ticking by slowly. The mechanism was quite good and he only had to wind it every few weeks. Which was good, since he often forgot. He cleared a space in the dust for it, and arranged his table again before blowing out the candle.

The smell of lingering flame and dust filled his nostrils as darkness rapidly swallowed everything around him and he went to lie down to sleep.
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Paulus Fahlstrom

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The two dwarves sat in the small, but tidy office, one with the weary smile of victory, the other the burdened slump of defeat. The Head Mason and the Scribe were discussing the work on the wall, but only the Mason looked happy. For the scribe it was simply more work, and ever since the Zombie Giant eagle had knocked Glacies off the wall his mannerisms had changed and his affectations bothered Thesaurusaurus. Considerably.

At least he had brought good news. Even for him.

"Poppycock, man. I tell you. Rubbish to that. We've accomplished a sight more than just building some flimsy border around a few hovels." Glacies said this while sitting, or at least appearing to be sitting upright, twisting his long mustache and beard.

"We've now finished the foundations of this entire structure. The footings are secure, the sheathing, in and out are solid bedrock. Granite, man!"

A scowl flitted across the Scribe's face. "Yes, I'm sure. I know exactly what you've put out there, but it has taken you the better part of seventy years! And stop calling me man. I'm a dwarf!"

"Pfeh, you've not seen the wall. Us eight have worked tirelessly for these decades to do this. Worked in snow, sleet, rain, shine." He shuddered slightly. " Ugh, shine so bright it'll give you a bloody headache even with your eyes closed. Especially in winter comin' off the snow. We've seen sieges come and go, worked and walked fifty feet above Avar, goblins, the dead abominations, you name it."

"That may be but I have recorded every stone you have placed. For every stone you eight work I have to work as well to record it. So don't get all uppity on me."

Glacies quieted down somewhat, thinking. Drinking his mug of water. The alcohol had run out a few decades after Fre had passed. And nobody had taken time to brew more, nor to farm the plants needed. They rarely traded anymore, perhaps once every 7 years or so, and anything they got simply didn't last until the next trading.

"You ken all that we've built?" was Glacies query after the silence had faded into staleness.

"Every stone is recorded." Thesaurusaurs assured him. "Every one. By my estimate the Hounds' High road took five thousand nine hundred and sixty nine green glass blocks for example. That one is simple. Your wall is not so straight forward. I've seen the drawings, seventy feet thick it says, though corridors run through it in so many places it is like a warren. So sixty in most, and only in the valley is it any more than thirty feet tall yet."

"Tut, it will rise. Rise it shall." Glacies emphasized.

The scribe took out a piece of slate and a chalk, checked his books and scrawled out some numbers for the High Mason.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)


"Near as I can tell here's what you've put into it. Never mind some of the smaller numbers. The specialty blocks were not used in the wall. Just over seventeen thousand blocks of granite for the sheathing. And figuring in thickness and passages, at least twice that in filler stone, obviously mostly diorite, but others as well. See here."

Both were silent for a moment, but Glacies couldn't help but smile. "Indeed, a great work. At this rate we'll be done in a mere thirty years."

Thesaurusaurus pursed his lips and shook his head slightly.

"Bugger it all man, must you be so contrary?"

The scribe nearly lost it at being called man and bug in the same sentence but simply shuffled his work together and sniffed. "More like eighty. At this rate you only manage to place just over two blocks a day. Given the current rate of construction and the plans intended it should take you roughly that much more once the wall reaches even keel across and you have to build more on each level. Now good day. I've work to do. I need to re-catalog the quarry stones before they're worked and I need to finish the inventory and years end report."

Glacies ran a hand through his hair, thinking. He stood and walked out but popped his head back in a second later. "At least you don't have to worry about more new inventory wandering in though, eh, mate? Now's the gates are in, nothing gets in or out."

The scribe simply shook his head. It did make things easier. Generally. But a sudden thought made him fearful. Too many things had been trying to get in for so long. What would be trying to get out?

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Paulus Fahlstrom

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Re: Geshud Osod, the Fortress of Bones (Community/Story in Legendary Lands)
« Reply #737 on: June 07, 2016, 07:40:18 pm »

Ragnar removed her helm and placed the steel shell next to her carefully as she kneeled in front of the solid granite block in front of her. Ordinarily she would have been sweating in the sweltering heat but she barely felt it, nervousness and excitement both welling up inside her at the same time.

Oddbodd had been the one to strike out in this area of the mountains. Inspired, or so he said, by the idea of recreating a lesser version of his home city. The entrance to the section of their mines consisted of a pair of brass doors, flanked by brass statues. Walking up several levels above the mines themselves brought you to a large cleared out area, where the miners and masons had been working making blocks for nearly the past decade. It had cleared an immense caldera, albeit dwarf made, around the Magma tube that had been found. After clearing the rock and ensuring a vent for the flow the magma had been released, creating a sizeable lake around which Oddbodd had been insistent he set up the trappings of dwarven living. He himself had a large room here, with other rooms in progress. Magma furnaces and forges had also been set up, storage space, and even a dining hall overlooking the superheated rock was in progress.

Ragnar had only requested a small room, tucked above near the top of the vent tube, and it was in that room that she now knelt. Exceptional Brass statues filled a small alcove but the large stone, made of the bones of the earth lay squat and square in the center of the room.

Ragnar had carved the symbol of Asen Rabdatan Zes, a volcano surrounded by a circle into the surface of the granite and filled it using a crude obsidian crucible with magma from the lake. It seemed an appropriate gesture.

In her mind she felt drawn back through her life and her experiences as she meditated. Friends come and gone, family too. Fortresses even. Mountainsides crumbled into the sea.

And then before her stood again a flaming figure calling her name.

"Ragnar, I have accepted your sacrifice and your changed heart. As you have been born again with water and fire let you now be rebirthed. Stand and be recognized as my Champion!"

She stood and he stretched forth to take her hand in his. A searing pain enveloped her arm but she did not flinch. Not even when she smelled the particular odor of burning hair and singed flesh. She would be strong.

As he withdrew his hand again the pain abruptly ceased and she looked down at her hand, now branded with Asen's mark.

"Your work has now only just begun. Your path lies before you. I only need you to open your eyes and see the way before you."

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As Ragnars vision cleared once more she thought she could detect just the faintest hint of burned hair in the air and she quickly ripped off her gauntlet, just to confirm if it was vision or reality. It was apparently both, as there, clearly visible on the back of her hand was the scar tissue of a burn mark with a circle, surrounding a volcano.

She stood again, replacing her gauntlet and fitting her helm to her head once more.

The vision, it had said something about a path.

What path?

She was not sure. There had only been one way in here. Was the path figurative or literal?

It was then that she opened her eyes. It was only then that she saw the works of art decorating the temple. Art carved by Oddbodd himself, and suddenly she felt fear.

"Aww, hell." was all that escaped her lips as she turned and sprinted to find Paulus.

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Paulus Fahlstrom

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Re: Geshud Osod, the Fortress of Bones (Community/Story in Legendary Lands)
« Reply #738 on: February 18, 2017, 12:52:47 am »

"Hell indeed." Led's voice was quiet, but carried well in the small enclosed space before them all.

"This is what we fight here. The very powers of Hell itself. If we ever want to stay the undead here as Mondul has commanded then this is what we must face."

The pause in his speech carried volumes, but nothing really needed to be said. They knew the dangers, knew what Could happen, just as surely as they heard the heavy iron floodgate clang shut behind them minutes before.

A general call to arms had been made as soon as the news was carried. All assembled that were able. Two of the others had just finished a patrol and were sleeping, exhausted, leaving Boink to seal them in for their fate. A complex knock system and call response was set up to ensure when, IF, it would be safe to open the doors.

If not, Boink had been given instruction to cave in the entrance to Oddbodd's domain here. All knew what was at stake.

"I thank you all, and may our goddess watch over us. I cannot think of any with whom I would rather die."

"Dear, if you would, clear the stones and then gear up behind us."

Sarah nodded, and gave Led's hand a squeeze before depositing her protections behind the wall of living steel and bone that were the dwarves of the Wall of Zealots.

In the eerie silence breathing could be heard, and the faint utterings of prayers to Mondul. Then the barricade crumbled.

All Hell did not break loose at that time. But to those trapped in the room with it, they could feel it ... expand into their space. Their skin suddenly felt, taut, as if the pressure in the room suddenly changed. The screams of tormented souls hit them first. Numbing their ears, stealing their senses.

It was seconds later, before they had re-oriented that the first wave hit them, pouring from the fissure in the rock before them. To their eyes, they looked like men, male and female. Their skin was pale, their hair long and matted, pale yellow, tan or red. But there was an unnaturalness to their motion, as if they were not quite accustomed to those bodies.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The sudden thuds of flesh on metal and warcries of dwarf and demon alike filled the air. The demons charged without hesitation and fear, throwing themselves upon the dwarves in reckless abandon. Their speed and strength was considerable and a pair of demons leaped into the cluster of dwarves, knocking several to the ground.

Led struck out at one of them with his spear, impaling a leg from behind, driving it's attention toward him. The monster bled, however. It could be killed. Soon the dwarves changed tactics, working as a group to bring down the ones that made it through the front ranks, while a few dwarves maintained the front line. Glacies, held the front, along with several of her Masons, Erith, Ascubis, Asmel and Draconius.  Ragnar and the Hound were there as well, holding the line against the incoming waves.

Maintaining a line only worked so well in the ensuing chaos. The demons would leap from the fissure, or tackle dwarves, down in a tangle of limbs and steel. The demons were incredibly strong, treating steel like a normal dwarf would treat leather.

It was after a large wave, that nearly swamped the dwarves that Erith and Ascubis rallied, carving their way to the fissue and following up it into the darkness.

The struggle among the remaining combatants was so fierce that no one noticed their surge, nor a few minutes later when demons began pouring through the fissure again.

Led was fighting his own demons now, a pair that even he was hard pressed to keep back. Sarah, down and wrestling with a bear of a man nearby. Thesaurusaurus and Reg, beating a demon into paste. Ragnar held her post still near the fissure, the ground slick beneath her with blood. The Hound too remained resolute, broken bodies lying against walls nearby.

Lor was not the first to fall under the onslaught. A demon had sprung upon him and none were near to help. The red-haired beserkeress had jumped at him, tackling him then headbutted him into unconciousness. It had been mercifully short after that, but not clean. The demon had taken an axe to a leg shortly thereafter by Kolok, who grimly pushed through his bouts of weakness. Kolok did not get the kill, but had incapacitated it long enough for Led to get the job done with his spear.

To everyone's surprise Erith plunged back down the fissure at that point, knocked back by another wave that crashed upon the defenders. He did not make the safety off the defenders but was tackled and dragged into the incoming throng, even as the demons passed him and leapt into the fray. He did not rise again.

With the new foes the fighting raged even more fierce. Thesaurusaurus, the scribe fell, strangled from behind.

Led had moved to help the others, glancing over at Sarah, who was still struggling with her single attacker, one of the dwarfess' arms bent askew. He would have needed to disengage in order to help and was confronted by a pair of blonde behemoths, beards flecked with spittle and blood. It pained him but he engaged the pair, stabbing out with a series of short rapid thrusts to slow and stop their advance.

The incoming rush of enemies split across the surface, some flowing eastward towards Ragnar and the Hound, but the majority fell upon the Masons at the west-most side, steel meeting flesh in an uneven cacophony of scrapes and grunts. Glacies attempted to rally against the charge with a call 'Fer the wall!' but it was cut short by a brutal punch to the right side, under his weapon arm. The force of the blow staggered him, and caved in part of his plate. But the Masons charged their foes with similar ferocity. Asmel, Draconius, Reg, onul rained blows upon their foes as Glacies staggered back, gasping for breath that wouldn't seem to come.

But for every Mason at the wall it seemed like there were two foes. Bones broke, and blood flowed, demon and dwarf alike. Ragnar and the Hound worked methodically, like a pair of well-honed shears, cutting stubble. Kolok and Led worked as a pair, hammer and anvil. Kolok took the beating while Led rained down strikes, leaving an impaled demon writhing beneath him until he could finish it off. The Masons, however, had never truly prepared for battle. They were not weak, and were used to hammer and chisel, but the dance of death was less familiar.

Glacies fell, winded, by a blow from behind as he continued to gasp for air, his warped plate preventing him from being able to breathe properly. And then Asmel too fell, first to the ground, whether tripped, or slipped on a patch of blood none were sure, but a pair of demons were on him in a flash, and he remained down, limp and broken. Draconius with his flashing sword stood valiantly amid his fallen friends, and for a moment stemmed the tide, removing fingers and even a limb that was raised against him. When he fell the entire side crumpled in and became chaos, demons beating on downed foes until they stopped twitching.

It was then a strange silence fell. Led looked up with new eyes and saw their foes' true forms. Distorted by shadows and consumed by fire and blood they were hideous beasts. Pale and red they looked in the were-light, and although human, were utterly inhuman to his sight. He said a quick prayer to his Goddess and felt her peace envelop him. Were he to die here it would be no great matter. Death comes to all. Death was simple, it was clean. And pierced every living thing to the core. His spear took on a cold radience and he felt death coming. It came for all things, dwarf and demon alike.

And in his hand he held Death. Little stood out to him from the next few minutes of battle but the serene calm he felt. His first foe shuddered as the spear entered, sideways, slipping between the ribs from behind as it took the fire and simply sucked it out, replacing it with cold steel. The light and shadow faded rapidly as he twisted and when the thing lying before him looked human again he moved on to the next. This one circled him, as if trying to engulf him in flame and shadow as well, but a scything sweep from Ragnars' axe took out a leg and the next second Led was in the air, pinning an arm beneath his foot as his spear found the throat of his prostrate enemy.

Kolok was lying immobile nearby, but rose swiftly to help and combined they re-inforced the Masons, though too late to save Reg, whose helmet was lying partially crushed to one side of his immobile body. Onul was all that remained, beset by foes and backed against a wall but the frigid shaft flicked out and drew an attacker away, pouring smoke and fire from a deep wound.

Last of all Led bore down on the demon straddling his beloved. Her arm was locked in place holding it away just enough that the demon could bring little force to bear but Sarah's other arm hung useless and bent at her side. They were at an impasse, one with a grip that could crack black walnuts, the other an insatiable appetite to strangle and maim that they were locked in struggle and had been from nearly the beginning of the battle.

And then there was silence.

(Ok, sure, everyone was breathing like a bellows, but the Relative silence descended upon them like a fog.)



« Last Edit: February 23, 2019, 06:32:51 am by Paulus Fahlstrom »
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Paulus Fahlstrom

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Re: Geshud Osod, the Fortress of Bones (Community/Story in Legendary Lands)
« Reply #739 on: February 23, 2019, 03:35:53 am »

In the comparative silence the sudden sound rang out, silvery and melodious, yet it grated on their nerves. It was the sound of laughter, coming from the deeps.

It was a sound of pure, condescending hatred.

Before he was even seen his presence could be felt. Like oil coating the surface of a lake it spread, covering the room, fouling the air. Sarah was still prone, clearly exhausted. Kolok was on a knee trying to shake his head clear of his paralysis. Onul was wounded, limping slightly and favoring his right arm, but gamely joined Led, Ragnar and Paulus to stand in front of the entrance that had been inadvertently hewn into this nether demense.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Un Fallangel, once general of this bastion of evil, had come. A bright whip in his hand crackled with sulfurous fire. His eyes were red and piercing, and if seen from afar would have been considered a majestic specimen of masculinity. Up close, his presence was cloying.

As he entered the time seemed to freeze and he looked beyond the dwarves, to the hooded figure in black standing behind them.

"So, some still exist who would openly defy us? But no army of light do I see, no coalition of gods to push back the dark tides. Just one little godling, of a people that is broken. Like those I see here. Tired and nearly overwhelmed by a few dozen of our bezerkers made flesh."

He laughed again, though no dwarves heard it.

"And what shall you do once I have beaten these few who remain? How shall you spend your last powers once your followers are killed? Drop a volcano on me to imprison me once again? You do not seem the type.

Perhaps you are one of those useless gods. Godess of jewels, or music or poetry... those always make for good sport.

But that can wait. Now it has been given to me to break free of this prison, thanks to you. I shall rebuild this place and resume our conquest of this world. Like so many others before. We are patient. It will be ours in time. For we are Legion."

The Goddess merely smiled.

"I think not. Your troops have not bested my followers. And those that remain are mine, some at least, and those that are not mine have been loaned, for a time.

This place is yours no longer, though you do not realize it. Foolish general has fallen behind and gotten trapped. Where shall you turn for help now? The gate is still sealed, until one of us unseals it voluntarily. There is no one to come to your aid."

Un paused, considering. Looking at Mondul, and before her the dwarves.

"You think it so easy to reclaim a place of power such as this? The foundations go deep and have been here for an age. That which I wrought an eon ago has defiled these mountains to their roots. It cannot be so simply purged."

He looked over the dwarves arrayed before him. And started laughing again.

"These pose little challenge to a Baron of the Legion. Of them only three are worthy opponents of any caliber. The others are crippled, injured or beaten. Leave now and I may let some of them live ... for a time. They will make an interesting snack. I have not had a fresh soul for some time."

"Well, even three on one is an unfair fight. But in the interest of making this sporting I shall tell you, of the three two are chosen champions. One is marked mine, my chosen hunter."

Un was clearly unused to having his bluff called and looked now with renewed interest over the dwarves arrayed before him. Of the three threats the dwarfess with the axe stood out in spiritual aspect. It was as if wreathed in flame, like a fire maiden born of the Earth's blood. She then was one of these borrowed champions.

Of the two remaining both bore mantles of bone and steel, one with hammer, one with spear. But that was merely the mundane differences. In aspect they were different, he with the spear wore a cloak of darkness much like the goddess before him. He must be her chosen hunter. She would guard him most zealously. The other with hammer and shield perhaps acting as beater to flush game.

Having seen this his mind was made up at once. There was a reason he commanded in the Legion. And it was more than just personal power. Strike the weakest and even the odds. Prevent them from flanking. Strike fast and overwhelm. Those were now his order of business.

Mondul saw his resolution and in the darkness cloaking her she smiled.

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Un's whip cracked out from the darkness, striking out at the Hound, but his shield was raised and the whip could find no purchase to grab or bite. A sibilant hiss of a blade being drawn could be heard and then the general launched himself and leapt towards the dwarf, shadow and flame wreathing his weapons and his body. Blow after blow rained down, and was deflected. By hammer, shield and in a few cases, armor itself. Un was inhumanely fast, but his opponent was used to fighting those faster than him and almost every time managed to dodge or deflect the blows. One strike clipped the bottom of his shield, sliding into the Hounds hip, nearly sending him spinning and with a grunt he staggered back briefly. But his focus did not waver.

Spear and axe soon joined the Hammer and Un found that his advance quickly became slowed. His initial rush had not paid dividends and now he was beleaguered on multiple sides. But even the blows that should have struck true did little damage. For he was no mortal foe, and his skin tougher than most.

Thus locked in combat neither side could gain advantage for a time, until, nearly unnoticed, Kolok joined the fray and with frenzied strength brought his axe down astride the Baron's right leg, sweeping it off the floor and severing a foot, sending it flying into a wall. An unearthly scream erupted from his mouth, the sound physically forcing the dwarves back a step or two.

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The general lay prone as the Lady approached his fire wavering as the cold around her bore down upon him, and it was her turn to laugh.

"Silly Daemon. Even now you do not comprehend what I have done to this place, to this former stronghold of yours. This 'corruption' serves my purposes, as does the blood shed here ages ago. Even now, as my followers have bled and died I have grown stronger. As with the death of every soldier of yours.

No word of your defeat shall reach your leaders, you shall not return to your home plane. For you have come into my place of power now. I have made it mine, and mine it shall remain until the roots of the mountains are reborn. I am Mondul, goddess of death, and I am not here to slay you, to send you back beaten. For in my place of power I control even your death and am your unmaking."

A large steel-grey hunting hound padded silently to her side.

"That's the thing about a hunt. It's never, really fair. The Hound is not mine. I don't need him to be. What you seem to have forgotten is that Hounds don't need protection.

They have their own bite.

Goodbye little rabbit."

The Hound leapt forward, sinking it's teeth into the Barons throat. As if in concert Mondul's arm reached out, blackened fingernails reaching into Un's chest, deadly cold sinking into the shadow and flame and casually ripped out his heart, his power, and consumed it, even as the Hound ripped out his throat.

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The steel warhammer lay silent now, the floor around Un splattered in gore. Un Fallangel, Baron of Hell had fallen.



« Last Edit: February 23, 2019, 06:31:45 am by Paulus Fahlstrom »
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Re: Geshud Osod, the Fortress of Bones (Community/Story in Legendary Lands)
« Reply #740 on: April 12, 2019, 08:51:28 am »

It was a somber procession for the remaining eight. The tombs had not been prepared in advance, except for Thesaurusaurus, who had prepared his some time before near his sons' tombs.

Little was spoken at all in fact, but there were many sighs.

The deaths of so many bore down upon the survivors like a physical weight, bowing their heads. Causing their shoulders to droop, their steps to falter.

In silence they entombed their friends in as much honor as they could provide.


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