"Moldath IV", Prologue, Turn 916th Granite 899 - Northmanor the Unholy CathedralKodor Anvilhearth was a singularly average dwarf who had lived his entire life in Northmanor, the Unholy Cathedral. As a steadfast member of the Cult of Ramparts, he fully believed in the groups central ethos - something that ordinary dwarves of the Walled Dye might find strange, if not abhorrent. Kodor sat quietly in the Black Vault of Despair, the dusty library which formed part of the central tower of the fortress. The blackened bronze bookcases groaned under the weight of tomes both new and ancient. His wandering gaze was focused as the old scholar politely coughed.
Catten Eldersbasesments was a necromancer, an acolyte who had travelled from that well-known site of necromantic knowledge, Ancientlibrary, some years ago. He had come to the cult late in life, but was fully committed nonetheless and his experience of the dark arts had provided some unique insight to the brethren.
"You see, Kodor..." he began. A speech Kodor had heard many times.
"It might shock you to learn that Orid Xem is not the only world in all of creation. Unnumbered planets of every shape and size burst across the cosmos, in each their own dimension." He paused and chuckled. "Almost as if playthings of some great intelligence. You have heard of Armok, have you not?"
Kodor's brown furrowed. Catten was insulting him. Every dwarven child knew of the legend of the first God, the God of Gods, Armok. The Blood God. But few of them actually believed Armok existed. They had their own Gods, and by Tithleth, they knew those were real. You only had to look at the cursed werebeasts, the vampires, or the necromancers themselves. Curses and divine knowledge were the boon of the Gods of Orid Xem. Fickle, capricious, and very real. But Armok? Who could say.
Catten claimed of course that he had evidence. And that is what brought him to Northmanor. He was above all a scholar, a man of science who belived in what he could touch and taste and feel, and with every fibre in his being he believed in the tenet of the Cult of Ramparts.
"Does it not strike you as strange, then, that every civilisation on this planet has a God of Death? We, of course, praise mighty Tithleth, the matron of time, the ender of weakness. We know she formed the bronze slab Shedimostar many hundreds of years ago, and granted her secret to the infamous Oddom Girdergrove. Oddom was a cruel and ambitious dwarf who sought to subjugate others of course, but one cannot say she was anything but successful in recruiting souls to Tithleth's banner...." his line of thought meandered like the trail of smoke from his pipe.
"But other dwarves share a strikingly similar entity in their own pantheon. Have you ever had chance to speak with our guest, King Atir?"
Kodor's brow furrowed harder. This time Catten's story had taken a tangent that he hadn't heard before, and he was slightly unnerved by the manic twinkle in the necromancers cold pale eyes.
Atir Lobsterseals was certainly a curiosity. He claimed to be the King of Morul Kan. But everyone knows they were wiped out seven centuries ago, by a huge dragon. Apparently nobody told him, as he turned up with a trade caravan 17 years ago. No memory of the past, or where he came from. Catten presumed of course that he had travelled here from another plane of existence. One of his mirror worlds. He felt it was the tangible truth that he needed to complete his theory.
Catten droned on, as Kodor's thoughts wandered once more. The dwarves of Morul Kan worship a being known as Midor, a great and powerful god, who while not credited with the gift of secrets to mortal races was the primogenitor of one of only two known angelic vaults. The Doom of Midor, a huge archangel wreathed in flame had been struck down many decades before by a foolhardy and very very lucky adventurer.
"Twelve!" shouted Catten, disrupting the younger dwarf's reverie. "Twelve secrets... that is the missing key."
"The Cult of Ramparts believe in a Death God for which there is not a shred of evidence, or so they think...
Dishmab Northmanor the Mute Saffron Soot. His deeds as outlandish as they come. Did you know they believe he was touched
twice by an evil cloud of twisting death and yet survived stronger? Did you know he was betrayed, and tossed into the
lava lake at the centre of his world, and swam to the surface to enact his
revenge? Did you know he walked the surface of hell and slew all he saw? Well of course you do, for why else have we built this place? Northmanor, glory of Dishmab.... Rampart. The Cult. Don't you see? We have proof! This death God is not a facet of the others, like Midor, or Tarem, or Sut the Tomb of Quests or any of the lesser human deities. He was once a mortal dwarf, twisted into death incarnate by fate itself."
Catten was rambling now. He felt that Dishmab was real, as they all did, but the necromancer clearly thought Dishmab could actually manifest in this reality.
"The twelve secrets. That is the key. Each secret born from a slab, and each slab a breath of the power of creation from a God of Orid Xem. That is what is needed to bring Dishmab to us. This is why we build this tower." the scholar concluded.
"He calls himself Moldath Mournsaints, and from what I have learned of him, he is not from this world." he continued, after a long pause. "And he is the vessel into which Dishmab will be poured. I have studied this strange dwarf for many years. Painstaking research, following his journeys, his travels to the castle they call Boltspumpkin..."
Kodor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was all new territory and he was very much regretting volunteering to help the old man.
"Moldath himself manifested into existence on Orid Xem. In a cave, far to the south. His arms chained with steel. Mournsaints the Fire Ruler of Rewards, in his own utterance. He had with him a small creature, a bat, which he called
Dishmab. Moldath believed that he was not, in fact a dwarf, but an amulet. An amulet! And what is an amulet if not a magical focus?!"
The old man was clearly insane. How could a dwarf be an amulet? What did any of this mean? And more importantly, what did it have to do with Kodor Anvilhearth?
"And do you know what I have learned about this Moldath? He yearns for the secrets. That is the key. Twelve secrets, twelve fragments of the key. When the key is complete, will it not unlock the amulet? Will it not open the way for our own God of Death to be born anew? And do you know how many of the secrets he has found? Eleven."
A chill trickled down Kodor's spine. Surely this was all nonsense, wasn't it? The scholar had a look of complete seriousness, his face granite. "Which do you think is the final secret he needs, young Kodor?"
"
Shedimostar" Kodor found himself murmering.
"Now you see what you must do. The tower is complete. We have fashioned it for the liking of Moldath Mournsaints, with golden crafts, and rooms for his treasures and trinkets. He must be lured here. And we must complete the prophecy. We must find the Twelth Secret. Dark forces rail against us. They tell of another, seeking the secrets. A devil twisted in the shape of a scorpion. He must not succeed. He must not unite the secrets before Moldath, or all is ruin."
"Why have you summoned me here, scholar?" the recruit finally spoke, his mouth strangely dry.
"Because we know where Moldath is. And we have discovered why he is there, more importantly. He cannot leave. He is bound by something stronger than magic - an oath, to a dwarf long dead, by the name of Kikrost. He is their broker, their manager. And everytime he tries to leave he is brought back by his oath. You, young dwarf, are tasked with breaking the oath. Return Moldath Mournsaints to Northmanor and you will have played your part. As we speak, our agents scour the earth looking for
Shedimostar. It was lost, long before you were born. They search old Heroicgem, long in ruin, and they travel the breadth of the Plain Hill. This is not your task."
The necromancer planted his hand firmly on Kodor's shoulder. "Go now. To the place they call Clearmasters. And release the Blind Sadist from his oath."
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Topic: Museum III, adventure succession game (DF 0.47.05) (Read 407782 times)