The fort has been plunged into chaos.
Goblins all over the place.
Trolls demolishing the workshops.
The stockpiles burning with searing flames.
The undead escaping from their cages.
The dwarves running around in panic.
Aussie tries to escape through the eastern entrance.
She gets shot in the back by the goblin crossbow-men.
She is dead before her body touches the ground and the Trolls try to eat her.
Urist attempts to block the way out for the undead.
She gets trampled on by a stampede of skorses while carrying a lignite block.
Dariush flees into the deepest parts of the fortress, hoping that the invading forces wouldn't follow her.
She takes a wrong turn.
She writhes in agony as the flesh melts off her bones, covered in deadly dust.
Containment has been breached.
Catalyst has escaped. Mormota and Darvi, previously occupied with holding back the forces of evil, try to detain her.
The insane dwarf disarms the miner and brings the slaughter to every (un)living being around.
And Mekboy, overlooking the tragedy, weeps for her fallen friends as blood starts falling from the heavens...
"Mek, what are you doing there?"
"I'm engraving, can't you see that?"
"Yes but... ew, that's gross. I didn't know that engravings could be so gory." I frowned. She has made an engraving depicting a battle of horrifying scale and detail.
"I call it 'The Fall of Failcannon'. It's my depiction of how this place will eventually-"
"No."
"What?"
"Stop it. You're not a mad oracle. Neither are you an artist. No depicting apocalyptic scenarios in the hallways. It only hurts the morale."
"Shut up! You have no idea! You don't understand my brilliance and skills! You-"
"Before you go on any further, the caravan has arrived. Ye're needed at the Depot."
"Bah. Everybody thinks themselves a critic nowadays." She leaves for the Depot, sulking... did she just flip me the bird?
[...]
"Thanks for the business." The merchants have brought tons of food and drinks with them. We currently have no shortage of those, but it's better to be prepared than starving, so we traded for them with several bins full of crafts.
"We're still waiting for some stuff to get hauled up here. We might be interested in some other stuff." The traded goods have been loaded onto the mules, but the merchants still have a variety of weapons, armor and pretty much anything else lying on the depot.
"Maybe I can interest you in a barrel of dog's blood?"
"Blood? Hah, if there's anything that we wave in abundance then it's body parts and bodily fluids. Even more so once I kill that smartass."
"Sorry?"
"Nothing. Oh, here comes Aussie with the bins."
Aussie is walking towards the trading depot. She's carrying three bins, one on top of the other two which she's holding in her arms. They look like they could tip over any moment.
"Watch it!" Mek tries to support Aussie, but it's too late. She stumbles over a stone, and the bins crash into the trade depot. A chain reaction of toppled cages and rolling barrels ensues. The depot falls apart and everything gets scattered across the area.
"By Armok no! Do you have any idea what you have done?" The merchant looks like he cannot decide to be shocked, saddened, or enraged.
"Sorry. I'm very very sorry. I swear it was an accident!" Aussie excuses herself several more times to the merchant.
"Pardons are not enough! This will take days, nay, weeks to clean up and to find out what belongs to who!"
"Seems like quite the predicament." Mekboy remarks.
"That's an understatement!" The merchant hastily tries to, assisted by his co-workers, assemble anything that they know is theirs.
"Wait, wait. I've got an idea."
"I'm listening."
"You've got lots of stuff from us before right? So how about you take what you can get today, and after you leave for the mountain home we're going to clean up here. Then we send all your stuff back while you sell your new stuff. That way everybody has what they wanted, even if there's a bit of delay."
The merchant grumbled. "I don't like waiting, but if I return to late and without any new goods the Queen'll have my head. Probably for breakfast. Alright then."
[...]
"Did the plan work?" I was leaning against a wall, out of sight from the depot. Aussie walked around that moment.
"Think so. He said that he had to leave soon."
"Just as planned."
"Don't you worry that he might come back and demands his stuff back?"
"Don't worry. I know the Queen. Missing goods are as good a reason for her as arriving too late. If he's going to come back, then as a permanent resident."
"Another question then."
"And that would be?"
"Was it necessary for me to do that? I think I might've broken my arm..."
I checked her arm. It was bruised, but otherwise fine. "Don't you worry, it's still intact. Come, I'll invite you to a drink..."
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Topic: FailCannon: No Rest for the Wicked (or anyone else) (Succession: Battlefailed 2) (Read 900269 times)