Another chapter of Osmol Bakedbrother the Allied Shove. Osmol gathered up some of the finer pieces of armor and dragged them down to the workshops below, and was surprised to find the the legendary craftsdwarfs of the great fortress of Stormceiling did not seem to have an workbenches in their halls, only forges and smithies. Osmol struck out into the caverns with his newly acquired dwarven pickaxe and hacked at some granite, and returned to build a smelter and workshop. He then set about tugging out strands of adamantium(carbon nanotubes?) from the stash that he had collected in the underworld, and then painstakingly melting those strands into wafers. He then descended to the magma-fueled forges at the very bottom of the fortress, and there forged the legendary adamantium sword, "Ancientwinter the Key of Hell". This he set in a spiky hilt made of hydra fang. Then, drawing on his stash of assorted leathers and scaly hides, in addition to some metal scrap, Osmol refit a fine set of steel dwarven armor, donning steel chain mail under black steel plate, topped with a red steel kettle helm.
On his way out he passed the fortress' abandoned stockpiles, and gathered an abundance of cut gems and other riches, filling the bag that once held raw adamantium. With the excess adamantium ore, Osmol made himself a craft hammer, mortar, and pestle. Recalling that a cave lay near the fortress in the foothills to the east, Osmol ventured that way and, emerging from heavy snowfall into sunlight, and was confronted with the plain sight of cragtooth boars rooting around on the glacial surface. A spire of rock thrust its way through the ice, and a narrow tunnel could be seen from where Osmol was standing. He puzzled at the various wooden, bone, and metal items of jewelry that lay scattered about. Then he felt the heat on his face and looked up.
A male gold dragon was swooping out of the sky from the east and belching dragonfire in his direction. Osmol raised his cobalt tower shield and dodged the attack, snipping of the dragon's tail as it passed. Steam was thrown up as the snow and some ice melted. Osmol hurled a volley of wooden spines at the monster but they glanced harmlessly off its dragon scale. He then lunged again, and slashed off a foreleg with his new sword, relieved that the creature breathed fire and could not spin webs. He dodged another blast of fire and reeled as he was caught in the steam, the dragon slammed into him but his armor protected him from harm. He then lunged again, hacking off a wing and, finally its head. He ground up the creature's heart and imbibed its Essence of Draconic Fury, granting enhanced willpower, trances, and fire belching. With the rest of the remains, Osmol created a variety of fine crafts, including a dragonscale tunic and cloak. He ventured into the cave and hacked numerous amethysts from the stone in the caverns below. When he dug deeper into the many layers of igneous rock below, and came out in the half-flooded, incredibly high granite crevasses below, Osmol immediately halted his descent, for he saw many things: twitching fingers, reaching hands, and gnashing heads grew like plants from the walls. Giant deformed structures that resembled arteries rose from the cavern floor and tree-like structures made of pulsating flesh. A bundle of meat with many arms and mouths was splashing in the water towards him, and in the distance he could see two humanoid figures with bone spurs for limbs and a cluster of holes where one might expect a face. Flitting above in the outgrowths of a fleshy tower was a disembodied eyeball dragging many fleshy tentacles in the air behind it. Osmol backed away slowly and fled.
He then traveled south past the barren hamlets to the southwest and declared his deeds to a host of drunken dwarfs in the mead hall. A sober one pointed out that an abandoned fortress lay to the north, which had fallen to a forgotten beast, a great one-eyed toad with a poisonous sting.
Osmol ventured north once again, and on the way noticed an unusual hamlet tucked in the foothills of a small mountains, on the edge of the tundra and northern ice caps. The village itself was extremely dilapidated: only a few shells of houses remained. But the mead hall was well-built and had weathered the test of time. Upon entering the feldspar hall, Osmol was surprised to see an array of enormous items of armor and weapons: helms that he could stand up inside, and swords six times the length of his body. This then must be the home of the Jotun, Watchfulcopper. He had heard tales of the frost giants from the Dwarves here in the north, and how they had disappeared more than 500 years ago. He wondered why, until he saw the sword.
A massive two-handed sword made of bronze, it was exceptionally ornate, but what caught his attention was the finely rendered depiction of A vampire dragon and Jotun. The Jotun are being massacred. It depicted the rout of the Tours of Vaulting of the Palace of Creating from Watchfulcopper by the vampire dragon Sucacins Doorskewers the Haunt of Bowls. Osmol knew of this notorious fiend, who lived in the desert on the other side of the gulf. Osmol resolved that he should slay Sucacins with this very sword, though he wondered what ancient artisan had taken the time to forge this solemn epitaph as his or her people were being destroyed.
He lifted it with his right hand and put it into his coyote leather bag.
After collecting a few trinkets, Osmol continued to the northern edge of the world, and arrived at Bustspines. He explored its depths and found no sign of the forgotten beast, Xilox Diedwaves the Dead Burials in any of the main halls. On the journey there only two of his Elephants had survived the chill, and these could not enter the front gate, but this was just as well because they were noisy and might attract unwanted attention. Osmol plundered the hoards of Bustspines, gathering numerous cut gems, some figurines, and a few choice items from the treasure room, including a black steel musket, moon silver pistol, an ornate sun gold throwing hammer encrusted with gold opals and worked in cave swallow bone. Osmol was also lucky enough to find both an Aetherial focus and Hyzith athame, essential tools to practice and expand his magical skills. Osmol felt guilty plundering such riches, and decided that when his adventuring days were over he would aid some dwarves in resettling one of these fortresses, and transfer all of the riches of one to the other. Stormcieling seemed to be be richer and more long-lived. After all, he would need a ready supply of blood anyway. On the way up, Osmol noticed a glow of life from his extravision which he had not noticed on the journey below, and eventually tracked it to a smithy hall hidden below a residential wing. There he bludgeoned Xilox with his massive bronze sword until the toad croaked its last, gorging on its blood as it drained from numerous avulsions. Venturing back to the south he spoke with the last Queen of the dwarfs to make some inquiries. She was a sage person, and knew the locations of many beasts that his companions to the south had bade him slay. He set on north for Dungsrumour the Sinful Grease, an ice-bound labyrinth where Glirinitash Sinfulsabers the Evil Scratches the Shoggoth made its home in the northeasternmost corner of the world. On the way he passed Stormceiling, and decided to rest before he pressed on. He built a small camp before the gate of Stormceiling, and scratched some leather into parchment, drafting a couple of books that are not worthy of mention. He knew that he had neglected the development of his social skills, for he had gotten into several arguments with the Queen on matters of philosophy and succeeded only in angering the monarch. His artistic skills also were lacking, excepting his ability to carve bone. He built a carpenter's workbench and a makeshift forge, and hacked down several trees. He repaired the dents in his armor, and used the logs and the gems that he had collected to generate Aether salts, and taught himself a couple of useful spells.
Growing restless, Osmol continuted his journey and soon found himself trudging across an endless expanse of ice and snow, blanketed entirely in fog. He was accompanied by only one injured elephant, and that soon perished as well during, of all things, a polar bear attack. It had been days since he had tasted the warmth of fresh blood. Eventually, after much stumbling around in the fog and the snow, Osmol saw four marble pillars. Between them was a stairway leading down. He entered a maze made entirely out of glacial ice, and from time to time would hear the echoing sound of mad muttering and unintelligible gibbering, among other noises . Eventually, on the second level, Osmol managed to follow the sounds to the heart of the labyrinth, and oozing pools of slime littered the icy chamber where the Shoggoth lay (any "Mountains of Madness" vibes?). The battle was the fiercest yet, since Osmul's fancy sword was only marginally more effective against its amorphous body than other weapons. After much slashing, burning, enveloping in steam from ice, and throwing spines of ice, Osmol slashed off one tentacle too many and the beast dissolved into a pool of slime. Osmol gathered the treasures, carefully cleaned himself, suspecting that the goop might be unwholesome, and promptly encased himself in a mass of flesh to heal the missing hand, leg, and facial features. He also lamented the mangling of his newly polished armor.
After a long journey back South Osmol returned to the hillocks at night and politely drank the blood of the sleeping dwarves with restraint. He waited until dawn outside and pretended to have just arrived, and extolled his deeds to the listening dwarves. He also learned from discussion that Stormceiling had not fallen to the zombie Roc as he had thought, but rather another forgotten beast. He travelled there and after an incredible amount of searching discovered that he had to enter the caverns, climb along the ceiling, stand on a ledge, tunnel into an adjacent cavern, and then dig into the floor. He made the mistake of doing this directly above a stairwell, and plummeted four stories to the lowest level. Although his dragonscale cloak protected him from injury, he was immediately set upon by the three-eyed, two-tailed giant sparrow which he had detected through the walls using his extra-vision, though he was not certain of its identity until now. He drove his pickaxe into its face as it attempted to spear him on its beak, and then, drawing Wogeniwir the adamantine sword, decapitated it with one quick stroke of his sword.
Osmol dropped off most of his treasures in the treasure room and then travelled back to the surface. He travelled around the coast along the gulf until he reached the canyons of the Passionate Desert. On the way he was ambushed by a Great Giant Toad, on which he practiced his marksmanship with a musket, and several bands of wendigos. He had been told that his next target, the notorious vampire dragon, was vulnerable only to lead. Although it would be ridiculous to craft a lead sword, it was a common practice among dwarves and men to shape bullets of lead. Osmol planned to avenge the Jotun using their sword, but it would be wise to maim the beast first. Eventually he reached a shrine in the desert, the hills dotted with blooming saguaro. Bones, coins, and assorted pieces of armor lay heaped in incredible numbers. Clearly this was a fearsome beast, and indeed it had slain more than any other creature in the world... after Osmol. Crouching behind a boulder, Osmol drew his black steel musket, now mildly proficient with the weapon. He fired a shot, reloaded, and fired again. The bullets rarely pierced the dragon's steely hide, but did some damage to its bones and organs. The beast could not see him, though it called out angrily the names of the numerous kings, queens, and fearsome beasts whom it had slain. Evidence of its reputation was available in the form of many skeletons that lay strewn between the pillars, including that of a famous Saurian spirit binder, once a lord, an Androsphinx that once posed as a god until it was brought low in the jaws of the dragon, and the vast bones of an eldjotun, the final king of the Jotun. Eventually Osmol's goal was achieved. His sustained barrage of lead had disabled three limbs and broken a wing. The dragon had resurrected the remains of some of its minions, half-vampires once cursed to do its bidding in life, and called to do so again in death. Osmol holstered the musket and drew the massive bronze sword with both hands, and charged.
As he advanced, Osmol called upon his knowledge of the secrets of fate and resurrected the eldjotun king and a nearby goblin. An elf skeleton swung at him but the blow was dodged, and returned with a heavy swing from the sword. The skeleton was flung into the air, and later tumbled along the ground until it slammed into a pillar, exploding into pieces (note that some of these skeletons still had muscle and even organs). Osmol fought a fiercer battle than with the Shoggoth, since he had to rely on the inferior metal of the bronze sword, but managed to escape serious injury despite being flung into a pillar twice and even off a nearby cliff. Eventually, after many arteries had been eviscerated by the pulverizing weight of the sword, the giants had been avenged. Osmol was careful that the sword should never be cleaned of the vampire dragon blood that it had spilled, and wondered if some dwarfs might agree to take care of it in the future. Osmol resurrected two dwarfs whose skeletons lay nearby, whom he learned after conversing had been dead for 500 years. They expressed horror at being surrounded by so much death. There were also two elf skeletons nearby, but Osmol elected not to resurrect them. Osmol then left them, gathered what riches he could carry, and set off into the sunset (actually).
He ventured north west in search of a cyclops' lair, and had to pass the land of the elves in order to do so. The lair of a great hill titan, a massive blob of water which had annihilated two civilizations of goblins of orcs and slain their demon masters. Interestingly, that titan made its home almost in the middle of the elf capital and had rarely done harm to the pointy-eared people. Also of interest, those two civilizations had been at constant war with the elves and had slain their high-elf allies. The elves are now the most populous race in the world. Osmol had briefly encountered their child-snatching fey relatives who neighbored the dwarves, if only to drink their blood, and Osmol didn't relish tasting the stuff again. It tasted like vegetable juice, and he was worried about catching elf-worm. But Osmol was thirsty, so he found the princess and tasted her blood. Nasty stuff. He then found the druid and had his fill. On his way down from the home tree he noticed from the strata in the hills that that tree grew atop massive fragments of meteorite. Disturbed by all of these coincidences and the uncanny power of the elves, Osmol continued on the last leg of his journey to the far north west. There he slew a cyclops and devoured its heart, gaining the power of sight that he needed to better explore the deep places of the world. Next he returned south, in search of the vault that lizard folk had told him lay far to the west of their country.
It was south of a grizzly-werebear cave, which he cleared, and a cave infested by two-headed werespiders, in which he nearly died while wrapped in silk. He reaped a rich harvest of various opals and chrysoprase from the cave, and discovered a very nice underground cave with a deep mushroom-filled pool, a bank of dry land, and a nice spiraling ramp leading up a stalactite and into the cavern ceiling, to the surface above. Although tempted to stay and learn to fish, Osmol was eager to learn what this "vault" entailed.
+++++++++++++SPOILERS++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
He found it by the side of a river in the jungle, an unnaturally cubical section of the hillside excavated around the enormous slade structure. Dropping off his bags at the door, Osmol's first encounter in the antechamber was a winged "Attendant of the Fight", a winged being made of ash which hates the living. Nervous of the unfamiliar angelic being, Osmol advanced cautiously and deflected its first strike. Then he stabbed it in the neck, and its head flew off. Thanking his luck, Osmol continued into the next room and easily slew another one. One ambushed him from the high pillared ceiling above, and Osmol dispatched it with a blow from his tower shield. Though the creatures were quick, their ashen bodies did them no service. Descending an incredibly long flight of stairs, Osmol was met with an enormous elephant twisted into humanoid form, wearing rotten fabric garments, pale metal armor, and wielding a pale metal scourge and pale metal curved shield. It offered no greater challenge. There were similiar "Messengers of the fight" with crescent axes and curved swords, but only one axelord was any challenge, and only because Osmol was surrounded by the messengers. The final guardian of the vault's treasure, a massive ashen flatworm, was bifurcated with a single blow, although it did manage to throw Osmol across the chamber. Osmol claimed the treasures within and became incredibly overburdened by the divine materials that he had collected.
Next steps, Osmol will slay the tyrannical dark queen of the Square Witch, learn the world's secrets, hunt down all necromancers, clear another vault, slay the last megabeasts, become a better artist and persuader, conquer as much of the world as possible, store his treasure in a fortress, kill a bunch of elves, and then jump into a volcano because he's a vampire. Then I'll be ready to start a fortress in a world without megabeasts or too many elves.
EDIT: typo
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Topic: What's going on in your adventure? (Read 2020876 times)