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[Jim Groovester]

The journal of Hikan Riddlewire, entry for 22nd Timber, 1071.

Aryn is infuriating.

I've seen the lengths he's gone to to get things done. He held the city together when it was an outpost against an army of dead camels by sheer force of will. He ordered the death of the queen. He had this city defended from certain doom at the hands or tentacles or whatever of a demonic god.

And now he can't handle a miserable noble and a couple of terrorists. Absolutely pathetic.

The Aryn I knew wouldn't be skulking in his office all day long, drinking till he passes out. He'd be out in the fortress acquiring favors and intimidating his opponents, using blackmail and any number of other sordid tactics to get that single most important thing: power. But no. He just waits for the domes to be built. The depths he's sunk to.

In the meantime, somebody has to do something. I don't have Aryn's gift for persuasion, and I don't have the respect he has. Or used to have. So my attempts to get things moving in the fortress have been met with tepid resistance that I can't easily overcome. The depths I've sunk to while Aryn waits for his stupid glass domes to be built.

Istrath has been on my mind a lot lately. I gave the poor guy so much crap while he was alive. I feel guilty about the whole thing, but I was right about him. I don't know what happened, but I have a feeling that Istrath was stupid enough to try and take on those goblins, unarmed and unarmored. He's not Stravitch or Sulari or Merkil or Vatek or any other of the soldiers, and he paid the price for his foolishness.

At the very least, he's with his son now, for whatever solace that gives him.

[Heavy Flak]

The Events of the 18^th of Moonstone, 1071

"DAMN IT!" Eita bellowed, "Filthy Greenskin Ambush!"

Neo drew his sword as the sands around them seemed to explode upwards.  Goblins materialized from seemingly thin air.  The Dwarves that Neo and Eita had been guarding, the ones constructing some elaborate and unneeded pump system by the brook, fled in abject terror.  Eita, acting on instinct alone, took a swing and sliced deep into the muscle of a goblin wrestler.  He grunted with pain and took a step backwards.

A burst of blood covered her armor, as Neo's sword jutted out from the goblins chest.  She gave a nod of appreciation, and turned to block a hammer swing.  The blow stunned her, but she recovered quick, slashing the goblin in the face.  He spun and dropped, clutching at the gaping wound.

"What... is THAT?" Neo asked, startled. 
"What?  Oh... my."

Aryn had been at the brook, staring down into the water forelorn.  As Eita and Neo cut through the goblins to get to him, one of the wrestlers charged him, knocked them both into the dirt.  Aryn, with a roar of rage, grabbed the goblin around the neck, starting to squeeze. 



The Goblin, surprised at first, Reached up and began pounding on Aryn's arm.  A meaty fist collided with his shoulder, and Aryn grunted in pain, but did not release the chokehold, instead wrenching back on the goblins neck.  Jumping over a prone Goblin, Eita made a might swing and cleaved his right arm at the shoulder.  The goblin screamed in pain, soaking Aryn's purple robes in in a spray of red blood.  Aryn let go to stumble back, and with his shot free, Neo swung, lopping off his left arm.  The goblin, shrieking spun in a circle, blood shooting out of his missing arms like a lawn sprinkler, spraying down the sands in a circle around him.  With a mighty swing, Neo sent him flying across the clearing.  He hit the ground and skidded to a halt in a small trench of sand.  His blood flow ebbed, and finally oozed out, dead from blood loss.

Aryn nursed his arm, but other than that, seemed unharmed.  Eita cautiously approached him, and said softly, "Are you alright, sir?"
"Fine," He growled.  "Absolutely fine."
"You shouldn't have done that," Neo added. 
"You know... you know what?  It is time to take things into my own control... fuck the nobles.  There, I said it!  FUCK THEM!  I'm going to deal with this Duke problem right now, I'm taking this place under my own control.  They attack me during simple reflection?  They have the audacity to sneak up on us, like pedophiles in the shadows?  That is IT!"  Screaming, he bolted for the ramp, using the aquaducts as a means back to the fortress.

"I don't think I like where this is going," Neo said.
Eita sighed, and sheathed her weapon.  "Let's just stay out of his way for a while... I have a feeling he's going to be giving some people a magma bath..."

A scream in the distance drew their attention.  Neo looked at his commanding officer with concern.  "It couldn't be..."
"More of the Greenskins," she whispered.  "The citizens aren't safe.  Hurry!  With speed - my Zefon shine her light upon us, and get us there in time."

[Mephansteras]

Hmm, it'll be Interesting to see what Aryn does now that he has motivation again.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 21^st of Moonstone, 1071

Vatek stood over the piles of crumpled goblin bodies.  His mace dripped with gore, flesh and mashed entrails clung to the spikes on the broad, octagonal head.  He was breathing hard, but he was pleased that he was able to protect the fortress in such a commanding manner; it made living the life of a soldier worth while. 

What he was not pleased about was the needless death of a miner.  A simple Dwarf, off to do his assigned duty, who had been felled by monsters from the wastes.  It was just sad.  It looked as if the miner suffered greatly, his bones broken, his head and body trampled.  Vatek sighed, and made a small sign of Neth Okin Shagog across his chest.  Perhaps this was the balance - the death of goblins, the death of miners.  Balance, maybe, but fairness, no.

Eita and Neo ran up the hill, panting for breath.  They saw the goblins in the sand and visably relaxed.  "Good work, Vatek," Neo said.  "Good work indeed."
"One got away," he replied.  "No doubt to report more of our numbers to their standing armies."
"Don't be so sour," Eita said.  "You did a great service."

Vatek shrugged.  "Yes, I suppose.  I should head back to the fortress.  I need food, and a drink.  Come on, we'll have a nice chat in the mess hall.  You know that dining room always makes me feel better?"
"It is pretty bitchin'," Neo agreed.

[Mephansteras]

Nice!

[TheMirth]

I love that this fort is still going and as messed up as ever.

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

Diary of Maggarg
Hah, 26 days! I haven't had a sentence that short since, oh, must've been when I was just starting out, probably in '20. Yeah, with Grubs Abbeymenace and No-Fingers Fingergone.
Anyways, still hiding and still no progress on a revenge plan.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 10^th of Opal, 1071

"Wow, Cokho!" Jotwebe exclaimed excitedly, "You look really strong these days!"

The old man paused from hauling the massive chunk of rock.  He set it on the ground and looked down at himself.  He didn't see himself as different; he was still stooped and dour.  Slowly he forced himself to straighten up.  His back popped in rapid succession, and as he stretched, the buttons on his tunic strained, and popped.  He seemed surprised by this, by powerful muscles on display.  Lifting his arms, he flexed, the material straining at the seams as powerful biceps flexed.

"I... I feel strong!" the old hauler said with surprise, "Like ... Like I could punch through a wall!"
"What have you been doing?" Jotwebe asked. 
"Just the same.  My lot in life," Cokho bent back to his stooped position, and picked up his rock.  "Hauling and dumping.  Though, I was grabbed by some little git, given some heavy green glass, and told to go install it in those absurd houses."
"You're a mason now!" Jotwebe gasped.  "You've been promoted!"

Cokho thought about this for a long time.  Eventually, he gave a shake of his head, and continued on, "Nope.  Just a hauler, friend.  Just a hauler."

***

Quote and Howard Roaroak stood at the top of the ridge.  They stared in silence down at the quarry, watching the little dots of Dwarve's move at a brisk pace.  They looked like ants scurrying about, and at this great distance, they seemed to be moving faster than normal.  Quote fidgeted as he stood there, glancing occasionally at his mentor.  Roaroak stood rigidly still, his hands clasped behind his back.  Eventually, quietly, he spoke, the tiniest bit of excitement creeping unintentionally into his voice.

"You did well, Quote.  Very well."
"You think so, sir?" The apprentice architect asked.
"Yes, indeed.  The dome-drafts are exceptional.  Perfect, utterly perfect... of course, the interior needs to be finished fully, but that is not for us to decide.  You have an eye for the future.  You see reason, you see where we, as a race, are going.  No longer will we be trapped by the uselessness of the Old, and the Ancient.  These Fortresses we live in, their walls cold, hidden from the sun, their glory only captured in crude carvings upon the walls...
"No, you have vision.  And your pen upon the plans has perfectly captured it.  Have you informed Aryn that the sub-domes are done, and ready to be furnished while we finish the main is constructed?"

"I have not," Quote admitted.  "He wasn't in his office.  I saw him dragging a bag down the stairs a little earlier... were they always made out of cinnabar?  They're quite red now."

Roaroak was quiet for a moment. "Has the magma filled in the lower layer of the smelting dome?"
"It has, it's funneled in completely."
"Have you seen the Duke recently?"
"I have not."

Roaroak's mouth twitched up in the briefest of smiles.  "I'm sure Aryn was just going to inspect the work himself.  Leave him to it, I recommend."

[Flar Moonchill]

The events of the 10^{th of Opal, 1071}

"I have not," Quote admitted.  "He wasn't in his office.  I saw him dragging a bag down the stairs a little earlier... were they always made out of cinnabar?  They're quite red now."

Roaroak was quiet for a moment. "Has the magma filled in the lower layer of the smelting dome?"
"It has, it's funneled in completely."
"Have you seen the Duke recently?"
"I have not."

Roaroak's mouth twitched up in the briefest of smiles.  "I'm sure Aryn was just going to inspect the work himself.  Leave him to it, I recommend."

Dun-Dun-DUUUNN!

[Keldor]

Hmm... I couldn't help but notice that Aryn's proficient at all social skills, except for comedian, which he is merely competent at.  <.<

[Heavy Flak]

Hmm... I couldn't help but notice that Aryn's proficient at all social skills, except for comedian, which he is merely competent at.  <.<

He's just not a funny guy!  You can't force comedy. 

I mean, you know what the key to a good joke is, right?

[Chaoseed]

So this guy goes to prison.  At dinner time he's eating in the cafeteria with all the other inmates...and suddenly a guy stands up and yells "Number eight!".

Everyone breaks out laughing, slapping their knees, the whole bit.  Then it quiets down again.

The new guy is confused, but decides not to say anything about it.  But then another guy stands up and says "Number twelve!".

Once again all the inmates roar with laughter and pound the tables.  Then they get quiet.

So the new guy finally turns to the guy next to him and says, "Hey, what's with the people saying numbers?".

"Oh, you're the new guy," the second guy says.  "Well, it's like this.  Most of us have been stuck here for a while.  Years, in fact.  We've all told each other all the jokes we know, so many times that we all have them all memorized.  So to save time we just give them numbers."

The new guy thinks about this for a while.  It takes a while to wrap his head around it.  But finally he decides he's going to try it himself.

He stands up and yells "Number seven!".

SILENCE.

After a couple of seconds he gets really embarrassed and sits down again.  In a few moments the conversation picks up once again.

The new guy turns to the guy he was just talking to and says, "What the hell happened?".

The other guy shrugs and says, "I guess some people just can't tell a joke."

[Heavy Flak]

...Timing!!

Edit: I had a dream last night that I was playing Dwarf Fortress, and while playing it, I made a huge change and screwed up all the water-pumps and drainage in the fortress.  Even my subconscious is mocking me for how terrible I am at engineering.  I'm just going to stick with typing words so they come out all pretty and shit

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 1^st of Obsidian, 1071

The unused storeroom stank of dampness, of mold, and the chalky bitterness of stone cut long ago.  Merkil sat on a small stool, resting his elbows on his knees.  Maggarg, and Adol sat on stone blocks beside him.  Adol looked worried, but Maggarg seemed positively terrified.  His eyes were in constant motion, watching the shadows, and at any small sound he seemed to jump. 

"Why are we here again, Major?" Adol asked.
"Because we have a favor to pay back."
"I'm not going back into the cells," Maggarg said, his voice flat from fear.  "I'll take out this whole fort before I go back in the cells."
"You're not going back in..." Adol said, trying to soothe him.  "Trust me.  Those that saw it, just don't care, and the Hammerer was such a power-fiend, no one is sad he's gone."

"That's not entirely true, Maggarg.  Some of us cared."

Likot seemed to melt out from the shadows.  Her dark cloak, and dulled metal mask sloughed off the blackness, though not enough to keep her shape more than a hazy form.  She moved in and out of the blackness, her slow, silent stride keeping her appearances startling. 

"I cared very much.  I risked much to help you escape, and now, I'm asking for that payment."

Maggarg turned his gaze back to Merkil.  The Major, for once, didn't try to placate the soldier.  Instead he gave a single nod, and lowered his head.  Since it was his life that had caused this event, Maggarg slowly stood from the rock.  He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and squaring his jaw, said in a deep, commanding voice, "And what do you wish of us, Corpse?  Well?"

Likot laughed, the dull sound ringing hollow around them.  "You're so quick to judge," she said.  "When have I ever hurt you?  Well... besides that time when the Star God had our minds.  But no, There is this... group of misfits in the fortress.  Costume wearing vigilantes.  When others sleep, they are out playing, clashing with the Fishers, killing off the Camels... I don't sleep, and I watch them from the towers.  Such life.  I ask that we four join them - perhaps not in costume, such silly attire, but in deed."

Maggarg gaped at her.  His mouth opened and closed, but he was unable to form the words.  Adol, however, wasn't hindered by such a surprise.

"Why would you want us to do this?" He asked. "Really, this sounds... remarkable, and illegal by the laws of the fortress, yet you want us to help patrol outside the boundaries of legality?  Why?"
"Do you see me as a monster?  I'm dead, not evil.  Have you died, meatsack?  It's horrendous.  Given my choices, I would gladly skulk at night protecting our ventures, then sitting in my room waiting for the chilly grip of nothing grasp for my soul.  I wish us to help to make this fortress safe - and to make MY second life safe.  That it helps others, and you three, is just a... a little bonus."

[Chaoseed]

Awesome.

Did I mention that I've always liked the corpses? They're creepy and interesting.