Gods, the chaos.
As soon as I heard the alarms go off, I ordered everyone inside, whilst speeding to the fortifications myself.
What I saw was far from pretty.
Dozens of trolls, some armed, others fully nude. Accompanied by their beasts of war, horses and lolcats. There was not much time. Time lessened, as I saw trolls climbing up our wooden fortifications. Accompanied by all our soldiers: Ruhn's Bolts, The Copper Jewels and The New Wave Warmen, I stood there. My father urged me to go inside and seal part of the fortress, and I obeyed.
Using Omer's scrying powers I looked outside. With his voice, I boomed orders to the soldiers. Yet they did not listen. They could not listen. They lacked the gift. The Marksmites refused to fire a single bolt, instead opting for blunt force by using their crossbows as banhammers. Initially it worked, when small clusters of trolls climbed up at a time. Yet, once the fighting escalated, this tactic immediately failed. Five of our six marksmites jumped off our fortifications and charged recklessly upon the approaching tide of enemies. Only Nox remained with the melee fighters, ready to defend instead of attack.
Things quickly got sour. In the heat of battle, two dwarves, our mechanic/tech support and one of the engravers, left the safety of the fortress to do whatever they had planned to do. Just as the trolls broke through and the troops were forced to retreat. Nox, My father, and the three New Wave Warmen retreated unscathed. Yet Ganondwarf remained behind, intentionally luring the trolls away after his path had been cut off by one of the leaders of the trolls. Skot was his name. Ganondwarf's sacrifice is the sole reason for Nox' escape. He fought bravely, felling Troll after Troll after Troll, yet in the end the trolls outweighed him, and he fell prey to their tusks. Soon, the two civilian forumites fell too, one to the trolls and one to a cursed lolcat.
Some decorative drawings describing the ambush litter the page, all marked with the content they ought to resemble
A marksmite, designating themselves as hammermites, charging into a tide of trolls.
Ganondwarf's last stand
A detailed drawing of Laxxood Dookseabo, a terrifying lolcat, murderer of Dr. ZuntîrAfter ordering the entrance sealed shut with a wooden barricade, we mourned our dead and continued our labor. The temple still needed to be finished, after all. I feared I would not finish it before the start of winter. A sinister ghost had told me, that as soon as the bells of winter rang, my powers would weaken, or even fade. Possibly for eternity, possibly for a time. We needed to toil harder, even as our stocks started depleting. Why my brewers refused to brew deluded me.
Trolls clawing at our doors, we continued most of the summer. We heard them ravage the outer plaza, destroying floors, doors and the depot. I told myself they would soon leave, to keep me from going mad. In the meantime, one of the children crafted a beautiful yet incredibly simple earring. It was good craftsmanship, but the name already eludes me. Compared to our other artifacts it is of no worth.
Nox took Ganondwarf's sacrifice hard. He had known him for a long time, and though they were not friends they shared a history of battles together. I have allowed him to honour Ganondwarf by letting him take Ganondwarf's place as a hammerdwarf in the Copper Jewels.
Suddenly, Omer spoke to me. His voice sad, regretful even. Still, I managed to comprehend the tongue of the gods with more ease every day, and his speech felt barely different than talking to another forumite. The power was desensitizing me for it, just like terror desensitized my fear.
L̕͡e҉̷͟m͞on̢pié̕,́́͢ ̷̷͡m͟y͡ ͡a͝c̴͠ol̛̕yt͞͡e̵.̴́ ̸̨̀I ̛h̀̕͢á͠v̀ę̛͢ ̶f̶a͟͢ì͡l̸̢͝e̡d̵ ̷y̴͜o̕u҉́.̀ ̢W̕͞h͠i͞ĺ̡̕s̴t͞ ͟͠f̡oc̸͢u̶si̸n̴̢g̢̢ ̴͟oń҉͘ ͢a̶tt̸̡r̕à͡c͘͘tì̴̧n̶g̕͡ ҉̷͝m̸̀òr͞e̸͞ ̸͞me̴̸n ͏́͜f҉o͟r҉̷ ̕t͘h̵͢͢e͜͞ ̧c̛o̢ņ̛s̢͟tr̸̀uct̴̡̧i̧͟o҉̶n̸,͞ I͠ ͏̵ḩ̵͘a̵v҉e̴͜ ͟r͠eg̛r̴ę́tf̵͝u̢l̵̢l̡͡y͞ ̸̡͡į̛͠g̕͝͡nor̶ed̀͢ ̧̀͞t̀he̛͡ ̴̡ş̵͡i̴̶͠e͞͏g̶͟e.͏
̡͞͝T̸h҉̸ę́ ̨̀m̛e͏ǹ̷ w̴į̵l҉l ̴arr̶̨̡i̧̢v̴e ͜͡s̡o̸o͠n̷̨̕.͜ ̀̕͟Th̢̧e ͟w̧͘o͏m̀͝e̶̢n,̵ ̨chi̵͟l̢͡d̷͟͠r̕҉͏e͠n ̛a͜n̢̕d͡ ͠a̸n҉į̢má͜͟l͞s͟ ̸͘͠t҉o̷o҉.҉̧
҉
̷Th̷͜ęy̨͘͟ ̧̛wi͢ll̸̨ n͏o҉̨t̴ ̸s͟u͜ŗ̴v͡í̶͞v̕͏e̴̵͠.̢
̴̧
Í̸͘ ̡am̡ ̛so̵r̕͜r̶y͜.́Hearing a god apologize like that shattered my heart.
I knew of the slaughter to come, but I was still unprepared to face it.
Words can not describe the sound of a wounded forumite banging on the barricade, chased by a horde of laughing trolls. Most didn't even make it close to the door.
The bone doctor was the first to fall, followed by his six year old daughter and their pet kittens. Then the others fell: the farmer, the ranger, the jeweler, the performer. None made it close, as the horde quickly tore them into a mist of blood and gore.
Two came close though. The first being another ranger. He had managed to kill one of the trolls chasing him with his bare hands, and was on his way to the inner bridge. He, however, was forced to take the elaborate path one of the previous leaders had dug out, turning left and right everywhere.
Trolls, however, are good jumpers, and they quickly caught up to their prey, tearing him apart in the middle of the path.
The second was a metalcrafter. How he got so far is a mystery to all of us. He sprinted pas the hordes outside, dashed over the cluster of trolls still toying with Ganondwarf's now-rotting corpse, and ran up to the roof. We thought he was safe, as we all followed him using a large scrying panel I had improvised within the cathedral. We sighed with relief, and started planning how to get him inside the safe heart of the fortress.
Skot, however, would have none of it.
As sneaky as a troll possibly can be, he managed to get on the roof too.
Just him and the Last Migrant.
The battle was swift and unsurprising. Whilst the metalcrafter, named Ustuth, just as our queen, managed to injure one of Skot's feet, the troll quickly tore off both of his legs. His arms followed suit. Now a motionless ragdoll, Ustuth could only powerlessly watch as Skot slowly tore open his body and started pulping his innards with his hands, simultaneously feasting on the offal he tore out.
Many of us vomited at the atrocities Skot committed. Ustuth resilience seemed endless, something that worked against him as he would not die. Instead, he survived until he was barely anything more than a head, a spine and a beating heart. It all ended when Skot finally crushed Ustuth's skull to a gory pulp.
We could do nothing but watch.
Again, shocking drawings accompany the notes, sketches of the gruesome slaughter
One of the rangers, running for the fort whilst the trolls encroach on him.
The other ranger, already wounded, screaming for help in the inner plaza whilst two trolls stand and laugh
Ruhn's ghost trying to distract some trolls, hoping it will allow the other forumites to pass.
Ustuth and Skot, minutes before their final battle atop the roof of the outer fortress.
A chart, listing all forumites and cattle of the migrant wave
A gruesome representation of Skot, showing him after the fight with Ustuth.As Usthuth laid there, bleeding out, and we laid sick in the cathedral, Armok started laughing. And to my fury, I saw the ambushing trolls disappearing, just at the moment the migrants were all dead. This, this truly tore apart my soul.
What a fucking troll.
Hope I'm not updating too much, just enjoy writing this. I also fear I may not finish the cathedral in time. Oh well.
Also, If anyone wants to be forumited as one of the forumites I currently have, please say so! I feel like I'm cluttering up the thread all by myself and I would love some more of your lore.
In the military:
Crossbowmite-turnt-Hammerdwarf Vladimir "Nox" Golubev (named)
Battle-Miner Th4Dw4rfy (named)
Axemite Mörul (unnamed)
Macemite Limul (unnamed)
Swordsmite Doren (unnamed)
Author
Topic: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy (Read 602262 times)