Hidden in a crack in the wall are several pages. On them, streaks of charcoal. Judging from the look of the papers, they must have laid there since before Apiks even took a crown upon him.
Though religion had been forbidden, there were still a few worshiping Omer. Faith had it one of them found the crumbling parchments. An engraver, who had stumbled upon them by accident. Secretly, hidden from Apiks' regal stare, the man managed to smuggle them to the cathedral, where he handed them to the high priest himself. Finally, after so much time, the last chapter of the "MANVSCRIPTVM REGIMEN CITREACRVSTI II: QVIS SACER" (or: Book of the Rule of Lemonpie II: the Holy one") had been added. The book was finally complete.
Fire. It raged, everywhere around the fortress. Trees fell, bushes shriveled and animals crumbled. Nothing but bare rock would remain. Nothing but bare rock, and Necrothreat eternal. Though constructed of wood, the outer fortress stood deftly against the licking flames. The tongues of many minor demons and spirits, wanting to taste everything the world had to offer. Yet they could but lick the walls of Necrothread, which had been enchanted, blessed and bloodied so many times being near them could be considered painful for any being, loyal to Necrothreat or not. For those lacking a sense of magic, it would often manifest itself as unwelcome tingling in the contacted areas, resulting in tiny cramps, bruises and sizzling blisters after a long time of exposure. For those who could sense magic, it resulted in chills, tiny spasms, visual and auditory hallicunations, as well as odd thoughts, combined with the previous physical complications. Most of the fortress was used to it, though children and newcomers would often try to avoid the walls as much as they could. The military had been desensitized, as part of their training. The enemy had not, giving us the advantage whenever fighting close to the walls. The walls that had resisted anything Ur and Armok could have thought to throw at us. Politicians, Gamers, hordes of undead. Unspeakable monsters, tiny and large. And fire. So much fire. The walls were no longer brown on the outside, no. An odd substance had formed. An amalgamation of blood, ashes and crystallized magic had formed a thick black crust on the entirity of the outer fortress, shining almost metallicaly.
The fire had started by the brook flowing south of the fortress. It had once been an idyllic sight. The bank of the river had been overgrown with a variety of lush plants. Yellow lillies, their lush petals the same colour as the fluff on a newly hatched chick. Pink orchids, the colour of sugary treats. Tiny blue flowers, growing between and under everything. Insects buzzed betwixt the lavish banquet of flowers and other plants. Fuzzy bumblebees drifted around lazily, while majestically coloured dragonflies darted over the water and regal butterflies fluttered from flower to flower. Vermin inhabited the banks and waters. Hamsters built their nests and waddled around proudly, whilst green frogs swum through clear water, filled with an abundance of colourful fish. Waterfowl was plentiful. Elegant swans, plump little coots and graceful herons were able to thrive on the abundance of food present. And at night, looking from the walls of the fortress, one could see wanderlights hovering above the shallow waters, their lights causing the water to sparkle like a gemstone unlike anyone had ever seen before. Lemonpie had been little when it had still been like this. But he remembered. And everytime he remembered, tears flowed from his eyes.
Now, life could hardly take foot. Whatever grew was sparse, and doomed to burn through a crisp within months. There were no flowers, no overgrown riverbanks. There hadn't been for years. Now, the ground was just black. Gleaming white bones offered the only contrast to this sea of darkness. Even the lifeless waters were no longer clear. Ashy sedíment coloured the water a disgusting shade of dark grey. Black even, on a rainy day. Necrothreat had come, but with it, life had left. Even the trees that still stood had changed, their branches almost barren, bearing little leaves and crumpled, semi-rotten fruits. In spring, Lemonpie had had hope. He'd seen several green bushes appear out of the ground. But his hope had been to no avail, as he saw it all burn once more. He turned around from the fort's painful walls to head inside when he heard the sound of a horn in the distance. No, not one horn. Two forumite horns, from different locations.
((I still had to write several updates when I passed on the savefile, but I didn't. See this as official, somewhat late updates to my turn. One or two more will follow.))
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Topic: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy (Read 602270 times)