I'm glad to see people are still here and interested! So here we go, back to the story.
Pyrefly, endlessblaze, and SlyStalker, your character bios are up on the first post!
Granite 680As the year passed into 680 and the month into Granite, elections for mayorship were once more announced. So far both Stronghammer and Brosso had named their candidatures, as every year since their split. The pair - and any who would put themselves forward - would have a month to make their case to the community, to explain their plans, their views, to gain votes, and perhaps more importantly: try to motivate groups such as the kobolds and goblins to even vote in the first place, elections being completely alien to their societies.
2nd Granite 680 - Afternoon"Elections are coming up," Bax grunted, leaning back in his seat, kicking his feet up onto the table. The Thieves' Guild had lain low after their failed attempt at taking Nimemnokzam and pinning the blame on Nathaniel. They'd escaped notice in all the chaos that had ensued, and Nathaniel had apparently known better than to openly reveal his role and association with the Guild.
Opposite him, Stas gave a small huff at having the goblin's grubby shoes so near to his painstakingly drawn map of Nomekast. "So they are."
Konith yawned, the kobold leaning up, having to push himself up to almost kneel on his chair in order to be level with the others. "So time we did something, we know Stronghammer can be brought, or at least influenced."
"You forget that Mr. Fireforge is the very dwarf so determined to bring us in," Stas replied, his voice its usually cordial softness.
Bax gave a short, barking laugh. "And what? Brosso 'Scourge of the non-dwarves' will be better? Bounce is more our concern, the woman hates us for ruining her stock counts."
"We do not particularly need to get involved in politics. We have much better things to be dealing with, whatever curse on that gem ruined our last plan, but we cannot be placid, Nomekast is only growing richer, we need to be sure to take our share."
Bax grinned toothily, nodding. "Lotta silver coming in from the mining recently." His eyes flicked over to a corner of the room where a few stacks of gleaming gold lay. "At this rate we're gonna be the secret nobles of this place with the riches we'll have."
Konith bit his lip, one finger tracing along his crossbow. Didn't they see? If the Thieves' Guild could achieve some political influence, if they could ally with or play factions against each other they'd be untouchable, he was surprised that a goblin like Bax could fail to see the importance of intrigue if you were to maintain safety in thievery. He cleared his throat. "At least let's send a little letter to Stronghammer and Brosso, either has the most chance to win right now. Stronghammer's popular, but with all that's happened recently I really think Brosso has a chance to win. A lot of people are angry, and Brosso's been at the forefront of stoking that and projects like the tavern. And
we could win a lot if we can get them to at least turn an eye away from us."
Bax grinned to that too, to Konith's relief. "Just tell both we can win them support if they just tone down the search against us. They win? We tell them it was thanks to us, they don't even need to believe it as long as the seed of doubt's there."
Stas' mouth was a thin line, and he ran a hand through his beard pensively. Politics was not a dwarven thing, it only ended in hammerings, floodings, dead nobles, and unfilled production orders. "Fine. Have Atis deliver them subtly.
Subtly, if this stunt backfires, gentlemen, we will be having the very opposite of breathing room."
3rd Granite 680 - EveningAarde hummed to himself as he strode into the library, glancing over the haphazard mess that was the newly-furnished room, bookshelves lined up with a mess of scrolls, books, and papers. He'd heard there were some rather rare finds that refugees had salvaged and rescued with themselves, depositing here. With little else to occupy his time, he might as well spend it trying to learn more of this strange underground world he as a human was so alien to, and those monstrous varied beasts that roamed it. While his brother might be a sailor, he was more an amateur geologist, and this world of shimmering rocks and gems fascinated him.
He moved into an aisle of bookshelves, glancing over the works. At random, he chose a book, trying to pry it free from the haphazard mess, and instead making several other books fall to the floor in a clatter. The sound of several more heavy objects falling to the ground rung from one of the reading rooms, and in the small space between shelves he just saw in the dim light an indistinct cloaked figure move hurry off out of the library as though he'd startled them off by making the books fall. With a shrug, he replaced the book he'd taken, moving to the reading-room the figure had just left. A candle was dying on the table, with several scrolls and rather worn books besides it, and more on the ground. He looked over the titles:
'A Bestiary of the Deeps',
'A decade amongst the Dwarves',
'Thoughts, Forgotten Beasts', mostly works dealing with creatures of the caverns or Forgotten Beasts, it appeared. He took the last one, curious from the title. It was a worn, tatty scroll, penned in an unsteady hand - it seemed to be an actual broken part of a larger work, or more likely some journal, and certainly not a reproduction. He rolled it open:
"
-roaming the great network of caverns that is said to run through the entirety of Omon Rabin's underground. Each is unique, each bears a name, yet no one knows why. While usually content to simply prey upon the wildlife of the caverns, once a settlement is formed in their region, they make for it immediately and attack. I have asked the clergy here in Otholsoltar for the reason for their naming as "Forgotten Beasts" since your average dwarf in the tunnels has little knowledge of these rare beasts. Supposedly they are lost soldiers of the King of Hell, that demonic lord that challenged Armok and lost. When the gods sealed he and his armies away some sly demons escaped to the caverns and became the forgotten beasts.
Yet I am reminded of the tracts of the many mystery cults of Sahthet, the terrifying god of darkness of the Spattered Realms whose adherents pass through on their way to the human south, preaching that this world shall be cleansed when "the armies of the Deep Dark erupt from the underground". Or else the work of Catten Snarledchamber, a sorceress sacrificed to a titan for heresy after publishing her work 'The Created God', supposedly written from discussions with Forgotten Beasts. I was lucky to read one of the very few surviving copies of The Created God, and in it she states that the beasts themselves speak not of a war against Armok but a conspiracy-"The scroll was torn there, rather meticulously, neatly, Aarde noted, as though somehow had excised an entire section of it out rather than simply an accident or natural wear-and-tear. Whatever Catten Snarledchamber had written, some previous owner of this journal had deemed necessary to remove. He got up, stretching his back a bit with a groan and moved back to the library, wondering if the works of this dwarven sorceress would be here.
Probably not, he mused. The library shelves themselves, while rather neatly arranged, were a mess if one wanted to find anything, since several different people had arranged them themselves. On some shelves the works were arranged by theme, on others by title, on others still by authors, or by state of origin. Eventually someone would have to put some order into the mess.
Not me, and not today. As he'd imagined, the work did not seemed to be there, if the state had indeed destroyed most copies, it was unsurprising that it would have needed the gods themselves to allow that specific book to have been taken with someone to Nomekast and survived the trip. He shrugged, eyeing a book on dwarven geology instead and taking that; mysteries about supposedly heretical dwarven theology could wait for another day.
5th Granite 680"Seems work is moving fast," Tarran remarked, running a hand through his beard as he looked over the courtyard of the new military compound. The sound of crossbows firing and the twang of bows followed by the sharp thud of the bolts and arrows hitting their targets came from the range on the other side.
Besides him, Mifava nodded, one hand clutching a pile of papers with the various plans for the military base, eyes flicking between it and the sight of Rovod drilling Reno Monty and Rar as the trio trained. The pair moved, on, leaving the range behind as they moved on to inspect the farms. The drip of water rung out as they moved down the staircase to the second level, the walls still wet from where heavy work had gone into preparing the soil. "It's all moving very fast indeed," she finally agreed, "If we begin planting now, we may have crops ready for Autumn."
Tarran nodded, fingers drumming on the hilt of his sword while another gave his beard a pensive stroke. "Hm, this place should be ready by then, store-rooms prepared. By the time we're ready to harvest, this place will already be a fortress."
Mifava gave a smile, looking over her plans again with a rather proud look. "That's the plan," she replied with a little trilling laugh, "a proper barracks. It's long time for Nomekast to organise the militia into a proper soldiery. And this place, at last resort, should be able to withstand a siege if..." she trailed off, but the implication was clear. A last place to hold out if Nomekast was overrun.
Tarran gave a grim nod. He'd been one of the original six to follow Ibruk's expedition and had already seen several of his fellow soldiers killed in the fight: Rion Truthax, Muenster, Johann, Volrath and more. At this point, anything that diminished more losses was automatically the best idea. "Let's hope that's enough."
12th Granite 680 - Afternoon"We approach," Tribune's voice was grim, official, commanding. The dwarf was a refugee from a dwarven army with an unbreakable faith in Armok, and it showed. Besides him, Pyre the kobold looked across the valley to the rising towers of Nomekast, a wide smile growing on her face at the sight.
"I knew we could make it," she murmured, her dwarven still a bit broken, but the meaning clear.
Tribune nodded, a thin, grim smile on his face. "Trust to Armok, crush the heresy, and you shall have won the battle in this life and the next." She had no idea if he was quoting something, simply giving a shrug. All cultures revered Armok, but kobolds usually had no use for the ostentatious, zealous piety other races seemed so fond of, it was enough to believe without making such a show of it. Things always turned up anyway, the world couldn't support endless darkness, eventually the good would return, she knew it.
Coming up besides them, the elf Ember cleared his throat to get their attention. "Is that it? Spirits save us, so close..." he murmured.
Pyre nodded. "We'll all be safe soon, just keep going, we can all make it, I know it."
A cry came out from behind them, warning of a bleak opaque cloud approaching them from the end of the valley. "Flying Nothing," Tribune remarked, as casually as one would the weather. With a grunt, he spun round on his heel, pointing his weapon out towards the compound of Nomekast that lay ahead of them like a beacon of safety. "Forward! Get to the walls! Keep together, if you scatter I'll make sure you taste my steel if the Nothing don't get you first!"
A journey travelling with him had led them to believe he would do just that. It was only fear of losing such an experienced soldier, and fear of what he'd do to them, that had kept the group from throwing him out. The group stumbled forward, urgency giving them strength where exhaustion might have stopped them. They couldn't fail so close to safety, so close to this increasingly legendary fortress.
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The cry of an approaching group of people had been raised within the fort, and the militia had been mustered soon enough, tramping up the ramp that led to the surface with the clanging of armour and low muttered voices between them. As they reached the trap-lined tunnel that led out and emerged out into the sun, a cry rose as the Winged Nothing swooped in on them, having apparently anticipated them. One swooped in down onto Bax, and with one clean, graceful motion, he slashed his weapon straight through its neck, sending the head flying off into the air, dissolving into wispy tendrils as it did so, while as its body fell, Thud slammed his fist, pummeling it into the ground in a shower of that black matter that made up the beasts.
There was only a small swarm nearby, a dozen or so, easily taken down by the bolts of the Arrows of Leading, the rest hacked, crushed, and slaughtered under the weapons of the militia as the beasts swooped in. Along the riverside the group of refugees, eight or so of them were charging forward, led by a dwarf barking orders to keep together and keep moving.
"Get them inside!" Tarran called, plunging his sword up to stab into the torso of one Winged Nothing swooping down onto him. The group seemed to understanda as the militia ushered them in most of them cowering under the flight of the beasts in the sky. As they poured into the tunnel, the militia brought up the rear, the initial swarm of Nothing beaten back but a great host pouring in across the sky from either side of the valley and it was with relief that the drawbridge slammed shut, and once again separated Nomekast from the world.
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Topic: [Community] Nomekast - At War with Nothing (Read 175171 times)