- Are you going to raise the fortifications to the top of sky?
- Quill is interesting influence. Probably can be weaponized. What's one more pet?
- Hm, I see. Because of the tree, 4mask can't climb down.
Nope, sorry! Only a few z levels. At most I think we have three Zs.
The darndest thing is that 4mask could climb down, but instead decided to sit there, a silent butcher brooding on a windy wall with his pet duckling, whilst below him in the fortress plots unfurl...
Was my change to the raws added? Thanks.
Sorry for late reply. As of now, they have been.
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26th Hematite
More migrants have arrived, amongst them a rather reserved individual. His name is Ruhn, and he arrives carrying a crossbow in his arms as tenderly as if it were a baby. He walks slightly apart from the others of the group, but his aspect seems pleasant, and more importantly I notice the ease with which he carries his crossbow. Tsiru left some notes in his rooms which I have been going through, and I remember a passage from “The Flames of Death and Glory: A Tale of Necrothreat” which claimed the Forumites of old used to have ranged units to back up the melee in battle. Apparently they provided vital defensive advantages. It is with this in mind that I create Ruhn's Bolts, a new ranged unit of our military. May Armok and Ur grow weak at the sight of them. The days of Necrothreat and the Guardians may be dead and over, but there are still people alive in this new venture of ours, and they need defending. If more people saw that instead of focusing on bringing back to life that which is dead, the problem may not be as severe as it now is….
27th Hematite
I have just seen to getting Ruhn settled in as head of his new unit. There is a reason he was standing so far from the rest of the group – apparently he's not very social, though he talks to me normally. Women, it seems, are not so fortunate….and his entire squad is composed of them. Well, bollocks. Or, perhaps more accurately, no bollocks.
Despite this, he manages his task admirably, and his skill with the crossbow is undeniable. If he stutters when he orders the girls about, well, at least it keeps up morale. I've never seen a more giggly military unit. To complicate matters, when he met Apiks (who is supposed to be his superior) he took one look at the blood-covered woman bearing down on him and became nearly catatonic. Perhaps I can make this a reason to separate the crossbow troops from Apiks' command…. Given the strong words which Apiks directed at Ruhn, it wouldn't be difficult to convince him to separate. This requires thought – I am not yet sure if Apiks needs to be worked against. After all, she gave me power in the first place, however surprisingly.
16th Malachite
Erin Quill and Imic have been sparring with each other, and so now the walking disaster of magic and science has an outlet for his pent up physical energy. Wrestling. Well, each to their own.
27th Galena
The Mountain Homes had flowing balls, great parties in the matchless rooms of Office. The Miner's Division was even once given leave to party in the throne room itself beneath the benevolent gaze of our (admittedly drunk) monarch, in respect for their long service, and to honour the traditions of our people. Here, the grimy dining room is hung with mouldy red-tinged blankets to celebrate the coming of age ceremony for….a duck. 4Maskwolf, you shouldn't have. Really. You shouldn't have.
13th Limestone
It is with hope that I look outwards to the dusty cloud rising on the horizon. A caravan from the Mountain Homes has made the laborious journey to visit us and provide much-needed supplies. As it gets ever closer, my impatience gets sharper and sharper, and I pace on my newly-made walls. I know the news lately has been good from the Mountain Home, but that doesn't stop me from worrying. Apiks is already waiting at the depot to meet the visiting traders, coldly calm and confident of the news to come, but I can not reflect her composure. Odd, Arx has been with her less and less lately.
For good or ill, the caravan comes.
Trundling through the gates, I hear the sounds of home. Cursing wagon drivers, scowling Forumite guards. The smell of ale and wine, the braying of donkeys. Oh yes, it brings back memories. A happier time, a time of art and beauty. Into the wooden, filthy depot they go, their faces showing their disgust at their temporary lodgings. I try to feel anger at their scorning attitude, but my pride in this place has never been high. If not for Apiks' interference, I may just have gone home, no matter the undead presence in the Mountains. The greenery has come closer to the walls, I notice as I turn to go down stairs and greet the proxy named Udib. Time to send out some more harvesters.
Apiks is already there, talking of this and that, and I feel a brief stab of annoyance, quickly pushed down. No matter that this is not the place of a military commander. No matter. Still, a stubborn spark has been ignited within my notoriously mule-like heart. No longer caring what these blatantly contemptuous traders think, I jump straight into my greeting. “Ah, I see you've met Apiks here. I'm the overseer, the miner-made-master.”
A short Forumitette trader sniffs, tossing her long braids out of her face. “Overseer? You are no overseer. This Forumite is – she even said so.” Apiks raises her eyebrows in surprise, but does not deny the claim. My jaw clenches. “Besides, you don't even look strong enough to mine,” she adds.
Somewhat surprised by this attack, I reply sharply. “Just because I don't dig you doesn't mean I can't dig rock. It's only slightly less dense than your brain, but it's enough to make it manageable.” I cringe at my forlorn attempt at a come back, but continue on. I notice a small crowd has gathered by this time, Ruhn watching with anxious eyes as the women square up to me, Quill seemingly making… a flag out of white smoke billowing from his pockets. He hurriedly seals his pocket and begins tinkering with a small thrumming machine stitched to the inside of his coat, but I note his sly smile. A white flag. I snort. Very funny. Meanwhile, the trader looks affronted and seems on the point of ignoring me again. This is the crossroads of my career, I realise. As does Apiks, judging from her smirk. If I let this conversation slip, I am second to the “overseer” Apiks. But if I take control….
Letting my voice lash out like a whip, I put my workman's strong voice to good use and note with pleasure the few traders who jump. “This is the site of Necrothreat. A friend of mine, Tsiru…” did Apiks flinch slightly? “….taught me a good deal about it. Here, the people stood against oppression. Here, we were protected, albeit briefly, from the forces of the coming darkness. Here the best of us were bred and given hammer or sword, axe or spear. But it was none of these that ruled those golden halls of myth. Where spears broke, axes grew dull, hammers shattered and swords fell from limp fingers, one thing remained constant. The Miner's Pick, the symbol of rule.” My hand significantly caresses the one hanging from my waist. “Do you dare come into the land of Necrothreat and denounce the bearer of the pick? Do you have the gall?”
The traders look at each other uncertainly, but in the end, however reluctantly, the old tales win through, and an annoyed looking Udib resumes his conversation. With me, not Apiks. Radiating cold fury, she breaks from our group and returns to the Halls. Arx slips like a shadow from the surrounding crowd and joins her, gesticulating and apparently arguing, then falling into step beside her, face a thundercloud. How interesting.
“What news from the Mountain Homes?”
I stare with shock at this dispassionately given news. Just when we were doing so well….a Monster overruns Dikemeshes. Another bastion gone. The Monster of Knights…. A creature of Ur or Armok? Remembering Apiks' interest in this proxy's news, I feel like I may know.