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Author Topic: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy  (Read 505494 times)

TD1

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2100 on: September 07, 2017, 07:30:29 am »

Th4DwArfY1 was a she, now, but always at heart a he.
         This man, this Forumite, remembered blood, and the ghastly face of Sprin rising from out the murks of the past. Erin Quill drew it as a fisherforumite would his catch, and he…he had been the basket it was thrown in. But the madness had ended quickly, and he had died.
         His soul had been caught in streams of rainbow, fiery tendrils and watery caresses. It had descended into the depths of insanity, and there found something beneath even these sensations. The cold of the grave, and the heat of hatred. Blood and dust, locked in combat, still and silent. Between them, a rock. And on that rock, his friends. An orchestra which played some haunting music he could not understand, filled with grief or joy he did not know. Arx wielding spear, feeling love and hatred towards the same person. And Apiks, pure and wise, corrupted by a stain darker than death. On his head, a terrible crown. Or perhaps simply the potential for one.
         He mourned their place, but was willing to pass on. Somehow, he knew the ancient nature of his soul, could feel its pain. It deserved rest. He willed himself onwards, and it was at this moment that the gods noticed him. For an instant, stillness. Then a laugh, crackling like flame. A chuckle like the creaking of a rusted hinge.
         Both reached for him, and collided. His soul rode the waves of conflict, towards Necrothreat. A feeling of the inevitable filled him as his soul entered the body of another.
 
   Darkness, and a feeling of shame.

   Then waking to a new life. Learning a new body. He had done this before.
   
   Time passed. He lived a lie, and sank into gloom. He knew the truth now.

   Why must he continue?
----
But continue he did. And as time passed, Apiks claimed him as his own bodyguard. Anger had risen like a boil within him, red and dangerous, at the gall Apiks had shown. His friends had died to sate the “King’s” desire for blood. But he could not maintain such hate, for he knew Apiks was not himself. He felt the hand of Armok, Necrothreat’s ancient foe. He remembered feeling that touch himself, and pitied the Forumite with the Chainsaw. He pitied them all, but could do nothing.
   And then one day, a Forumite came to him asking for help.
   He said no. But the next day, two came. Then three.
   “You are the Miner,” they said. “You bear the name Th4DwArfY1, and bear a symbol of power, the pick. Lead us. Apiks has driven us to despair and death.” He was no true miner, not as Apiks had been in past days. He knew this. But he could see the hurt and pain in their eyes.
   They wanted to make him care again. But he was not the son he’d found in this place, the one who communed with gods. He was a reborn fragment of what was once great, but not himself special.
   He did not want to hurt again, and caring was to invite pain. But he could also no longer allow the degradations of Apiks, nor ignore the grasping hands of Armok and Ur. His old friend was hurting and troubled, but must be stopped.
   By Idrath, he prayed for guidance and healing. The gods never answered him before except to laugh, but if ever there was a time to help it was now.
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apiks

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2101 on: September 10, 2017, 01:46:07 am »

Have there been any changes to the fortress since your ascension, Th4DwArfY1?
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TD1

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2102 on: September 10, 2017, 12:53:41 pm »

Halfway through turn, making an update now.

....

Dratted politicians.
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Carefulrogue

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2103 on: September 10, 2017, 01:43:21 pm »

Halfway through turn, making an update now.

....

Dratted politicians.
Now someone else understands my pain.
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I never thought genocide would look so cute. . .
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TD1

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2104 on: September 12, 2017, 06:42:21 pm »

1st Granite
I came to this position from despair. The decisions I made, I dread to think of their implications. Why must this be so? Why must we do that? But we must. It is the only way.
So it is always said.

And yet, as I actively work to undermine Apiks, for it must be so, I see the fortress. For all the terror, for all the blood staining the sacred floors of Lemonpie’s Temple, the fortress thrives. There is food for all. No enemies besiege our walls, as they all too often have in the past. The military is strong, and training with them shows me their rigorous standards.

And I wish to bring down this stable fortress, and cast us once more into despair? It is the only way, for freedom, but it still hurts. The King must fall.

To that end, I quickly send secret missives to the craftforumites of this fortress. They are to stop producing this crowns, made of stone and cold to the touch. Instead, they should make crafts of other types. If Apiks asks, they are to say that production of his crowns continues at a good pace. Show him bins with a thin layer of crowns at the top, and that should keep him fooled.

As I do this, I check on the animals. The fortress runs on its belly, and so food stocks need to be confirmed. We have meat in store, but what about meat in the field? I am pleasantly surprised. The pastures stretch far and wide, deep underground and yet crowded with subterranean life. The contented sounds of animals fills the air.

And yet….to the side, a stench assaults my nose. I go closer, and look into…watery hell. I shudder to see the bodies, twisted in thin channels of mud and creeping tendris of water. Afer, I remember, controls the deeps. And then I see the sky above peeking through, smell the harsh reality of blood.

Afer and Armok, entwined. I shiver, and move away. There is nothing to be done.

WHY is there nothing to be done? I shake my head sadly at the thought. Forumites pass me in the halls, but I spare them no time. How can a leader lead when he does not know what to do?

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

It used to be so easy. Th4DwArfY1 remembered coming to this place, being in charge. Then, no doubt had been present. Then, he had been whole and certain. But something changed. Death, the whip of Armok, had scoured him and put Sprin in his very skin.

He had contended with madness itself, the desire to burn everything. And he had seen a thin line tethering this evil doctor to sanity. Jenny.

And as they had been one, he had become…aware. Sprin had lived in Necrothreat, and his memories of Jenny led him there to great halls filled with booming laughter and the songs of NAV. True, there were also fields of blood, with burning horizons and a lone surgeon wandering the wastes, face to the sky and tears drying in the sun.

It was like a vision without end. It had been a different place. But through Sprin’s eyes, he knew it.
And there he had seen Apiks, standing always against Ur and Armok. Strong, capable. Valiant and noble, beside other heroes. One with a drink in hand, another with a sword of blue. He had even seen his own face there, only…altered. Different. Not quite the same.

It must be the same with King Apiks. It must. This expedition was sent to find old Necrothreat, but perhaps that was just the turning of a wheel…perhaps the very action attracted the heroes of old to this place. Different faces, sometimes. Even different names. But the same beneath. Apiks could become good, he was sure. The Apiks Sprin feared was the same as this one.

28th Felsite
A scholar appeared, to spread knowledge. Apiks welcomed him with open arms, laughing at the small man’s frailty. I begin to think my estimation was wrong, and that this Apiks is naturally different. I have not seen the Crown of Bone in many months, so its effects must be gone. Still, he rails and roars and rants.

And in the depths, a lone soul wanders, flitting from room to room. Does it search, or is it just lonely, feeling the icy breath of the grave ever on its back? We may never know, for it sits silent and morose, gazing at an old abandoned still. Does this ghost, whose name is Carefulrogue, have a thirst unable to be quenched? Does he, in his dead heart, remember a time when that still had pumped booze through the fort like rain to the river, and weep for times of life long gone? We may never know, but the spirit has stopped its search, and sits there. Ever silent, ever vigilant.

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7th hematite
I stand on the ramparts as the horns of war blow. Across the horizon, the flags are gathered. A strange fellow with a brilliant blue sword steps up beside me, and looks across the waste as well. His eyes are determined as he surveys the scene.

“Politicians,” he spits the word. The sword in his hand seems to shiver, and I look at it in askance. “War is here.”

And he was right. I call for the citizens to move back in as King Apiks shoulders his great chainsaw of power, and moves to the fore of the warriors. I am one of them, but scores of volunteers now jump to my command. A revolution in the making, perhaps. Only time will tell, and with Apiks so blinded by bloodlust, perhaps sooner rather than later.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

First come the trolls, howling for blood, determined to pull down all we had worked for. Then the politicians, their voices raised in anger. They shout names which hold no meaning to me, yet which they seem to believe have all the importance in the world. Death is most certainly here.

And yet I smile as they come through the gates, forming in deadly ranks before the front doors. I have a plan.

Deep below, a young Forumite hurries into a plain room, with levers bunched against one wall. He pulls one then waits for further instructions.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Above ground, the mighty, bloodstained gates of Necrothreat grind closed, splitting the attacking army into three parts. Apiks seems surprised, and glares at me with a considering gleam to his eye. But then the fight begins, and I feel the blood boiling in my veins.

By all the gods, THIS, this is what life is. Defending one’s home against invasion, standing with friend and ally and, yes, even enemy. Before us, a red haze rose as we beat back the enemy. By the end, they were clawing at our wooden wall even as our weapons tore them to shreds. Some fled to the barracks, and I followed after, a chainsaw somehow in my hands. Two trolls died, pools of blue blood gathering around them with all the promise of a sky in each.
 
Spoiler (click to show/hide)

But the politicians were not to be beaten so easily, for they were a wily foe. Shouting ring leaders and flag-bearers urged on the lesser troops, and suddenly arrows, like their pointless arguments, were raining within the very walls of our fortress. We dodged them with ease, and when the gates thumped down once more we were ready. As it fell, Apiks was once more looking at me. Perhaps he saw me giving orders? I did not like the angry look in his eyes.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The gates closed, and once more glorious, glorious battle. The depression I had been feeling quickly fled, fed anew by the feel of weapon in hand and foe on ground. The enemy flinched before our assault, the Red Hammer dancing blood through their shattering ranks, Apiks hacking with unsurpassed bloodthirst, and that strange blade seeming to twist in its owner’s hands, finding throat and pulse and blood. And then me, beard streaming behind me and joy in my heart. We were going to win, and none had died.

Before us, the enemy broke, and those beyond the walls heard the screams of their fallen. These were no slogans, no meaningless chants. These were the screams of dying men in absolute, true terror.

Their fellows heard, and understood as no slogan could make them.

They had met their match, and so they fled, gibbering among themselves.
 
And as it passes, I stand, soaked in blood, panting. Apiks growls a curse and tramps over, grabbing me by the neck and raising me up, his muscles bunching at the strain.
“What was that, exactly, slime?” The voice was calm, calculating; a cold look was in his eye. But beneath, there was a promise of violence, a promise that would be sealed in blood. “I did not order the gate raised, nor lowered. That was not the plan. You are my bodyguard, not a commander. Do not forget that, worm.” With a snarl, Apiks threw me away, red welts on my throat in the shape of his fingers.

“I will forgive it this time,” he said as I gasped for breath. “Mainly because it worked so well. But do not forget who is in charge.” He gave me a queer look, then shook his head, looking away. “I would almost think you remember…well, no matter. I saw to that.” With that, he turned to leave. But before he did, he looked back, a grin twisting his lips. “By the way, soldier, the Chainsaw suits you.” Everyone left with him.

The box of wood which was our protection, which I myself had made, felt cloyingly constricting. He did not think I remembered, and indeed my thoughts from before were jumbled. This could be an advantage to me….

Then the import of his words struck home, and I looked at the chainsaw in my hands. Then at the bodies, mutilated and twisted around me. My vision flickered, showing me scalpels twirling like an Archimedes screw, and mad laughter cackling in dark rooms. Then I was back, cradling my weapon. Tears were in my eyes as I fled back through the halls, seeing the dead, seeing their pain.
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Enemy post

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2105 on: September 12, 2017, 06:53:48 pm »

Great fight. When the gates started closing I thought you might be about to Uriah Gambit Apiks.
« Last Edit: September 12, 2017, 07:10:50 pm by Enemy post »
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TD1

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2106 on: September 12, 2017, 07:01:15 pm »

Tempting though it would be, at this moment Apiks holds the story-power.

Granted, I do wield the considerable power of an overseer.
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Carefulrogue

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2107 on: September 12, 2017, 10:50:33 pm »

Interesting I have a ghost flitting about.  Is my character "Rogue" still alive?   
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I never thought genocide would look so cute. . .
No reason someone can be dorfed only once. An entire army of Carefulrogue! All in one coffin, it seems.
"Guys if you say 'oops sorry' afterwards it's not a war crime, right?"

apiks

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2108 on: September 13, 2017, 01:23:27 am »

Interesting I have a ghost flitting about.  Is my character "Rogue" still alive?

I believe nothing has changed since my turn so yes, he should be alive and well in the military.

Not even sure if an Uriah Gambit would've worked. Apiks could've just mutilated his way through the enemy single-handedly.
« Last Edit: September 13, 2017, 01:25:05 am by apiks »
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TD1

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2109 on: September 13, 2017, 07:26:58 am »

There were an awful lot of politicians. We're lucky there was a way to divide and conquer.

You would have died.

Also, Rogue is still alive in the military, yes.
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Carefulrogue

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2110 on: September 13, 2017, 08:18:07 am »

There were an awful lot of politicians. We're lucky there was a way to divide and conquer.

You would have died.
Eh, if Apiks had his chainsaw, still had both legs, and a trusty shield, my bets go to Apiks. 
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I never thought genocide would look so cute. . .
No reason someone can be dorfed only once. An entire army of Carefulrogue! All in one coffin, it seems.
"Guys if you say 'oops sorry' afterwards it's not a war crime, right?"

apiks

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2111 on: September 13, 2017, 08:52:10 am »

A multitude of forumites stood fiddling uncomfortably in a line. A wide range of emotions was displayed on them, ranging from abject fear to quiet determination and a stony look. In front of them stood a bin and a forumite with a chainsaw next to it.

"What is this?" said the chainsaw wielder, but nobody replied.

"What is this?" He asked once more, this time with a quiet, seething rage.

In his eyes a kindling of a fire could be seen by the more perceptive of the bunch lined up. Just a kindling. One could even say it was the torches playing games with their minds. The one thing that linked all of them was that they were all craftsmen. One of them, a short man with a short beard, probably having sacrificed it for his craft, answered.

"The bone crowns you've requested m'lord." he said with a slight tinge of tension in his voice. Before he had even finished speaking the forumite with a chainsaw, the one also wielding a limestone crown, pushed the bin to the ground, making the insides spill all across the ground with a symphony of clanks. Only the farthest items from the container were bone crowns. The rest were various other assortments of crafts, but no actual crowns.

A silence descended upon the room. All of the craftsmens' eyes were glued to the ground. Nobody dared lift them in fear of what they would see. And so they stood there in silence. Nothing happened however, and time stretched on, moving from seconds to minutes to dozens of them. Someone's patience was bound to finally run out and indeed it had, as the craftsman forumite who spoke up earlier raised his head only to be met with a gauntleted backhand across the face, dislodging a tooth as he fell to the ground.

The rest of the craftsmen had by this point raised their eyes and looked on with absolute horror as the crowned forumite stepped forward and crushed a bone crown under his foot, dangerously close to where the craftsman had fallen.

"I don't know who told you that it would be a good idea to try to lie to me and go against my orders, but that's what we're here to find out. Maybe you fellas simply didn't believe me to be the Apiks that built this place from scratch, maybe you just haven't done your homework on me, but anybody worth their two bitcoins would know that the bones aren't just for show. They've written themselves deep into my very soul, being the frame that it needs to enforce its will. And one of the powers that it has granted me is to sense any bones in the entire fortress." A lull as he gathers his breath in a controlled manner, restraining his anger.

"Did you seriously think I wouldn't see through this ruse so easily? Again, I don't know who told you that this was a good idea, but that's what we're here to find out. You're all craftsmen and as such your fingers are your very lifeblood. Now, now, don't look at me like that, nothing will come to your dear fingers. Even I recognize that worthless forumites filling the fotress isn't very healthy for our kingdom. You can't say the same for your toes, however. Now, my friends, let's have a long talk about why you would lie to your king and who made you do it."



Yeah, with a shield, a chainsaw and legendary attributes, I think Apiks has a pretty good chance against an army of politicians.
« Last Edit: September 13, 2017, 08:54:15 am by apiks »
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Carefulrogue

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2112 on: September 13, 2017, 01:11:44 pm »

I base this off my own experience.  I watched my character fight for several ingame days, with little armor, and just a shield.  The lay of the land is what actually killed me, when I fell into the watery pit Dwarfy1 is now blocking off. If a fully armored Apiks marched into that horde, he could chug his ale before ensuing with the killing.
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I never thought genocide would look so cute. . .
No reason someone can be dorfed only once. An entire army of Carefulrogue! All in one coffin, it seems.
"Guys if you say 'oops sorry' afterwards it's not a war crime, right?"

TD1

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2113 on: September 13, 2017, 03:03:24 pm »

Yea, that watery pit is open to the sky.

You people do know High Lords can fly, right?
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apiks

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Re: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy
« Reply #2114 on: September 13, 2017, 03:51:21 pm »

Yea, that watery pit is open to the sky.

You people do know High Lords can fly, right?

Yes, I happen to be intimately acquainted with the mod.

Good thing we're talking about politicians.
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