The Let's Play Archive

Dwarf Fortress - Syrupleaf

by Various

Part 44: Phrederick: Intermission

Green Intern posted:


If the King ever shows up, he is more than welcome to trade his shitty old scepter for this baby.

Edit: Did I gain any attributes out of this?

Chance II wrote :-

Journal 8 - Granite 25

A Sand Raider was captured in a cage trap today trying to sneak in through a refuse shaft. I can't wait to study a new specimen!

Journal 9 - Granite 25

Damn! the fortress manager refused to let me dissect the captured Sand Raider and confiscated my best bonesaw. With nothing worthwhile to do I have decided to sulk in the great hall.

Journal 10 - Granite 26

It appears that the Sand Raider captured yesterday was a nobleman. In exchange for his release, the Sand Raider army has broken siege and dispersed. It will still be a few days before we can set out again on our journey as new mules and provisions must be arranged. I feel a fell mood coming on.

Journal 11 - Granite 27

While passing time drinking in the great hall, I have made the aquaintance of a young brewer by the name of Sugan Bustmoistened. She has related a sad tale of the disappearance of her brother, Kogan Bustmoistened. It appears that during the seige, he seemed restless and, forgoing a traditional dwarven weapon, bludgeoned Sand Raiders with a spare set of greaves! When the seige broke, he wandered off into the wilderness, mumbling about a cave and a purifying fire. Although his friends and comrades tried to stop him, he merely shrugged them off like they where nothing. Her story touched my heart but more importantly followed similar stories surrounding the mythology of the Hollistic Detective. I had to determine it the dwarf's story had any tie to that of that dark Detective. Vowing to search for her brother, I rose from my seat only to feel the weight of hand drop onto my shoulder. It seems that my friend Urist Shieldbiter will be joining me.

Chance II wrote :-

Journal 12 - Granite 29

Setting out from the fortress Uris and I searched for Bustmoistened's trail. Turning towards the only cave system known to be nearby, Urist soon found signs of a single dwarf's passage. Following this trail, we soon came to the mouth of a cave nearly hidden within a cleft of the rockface. The snow around the opening had thawed and I could feel a warmth radiating from within the darkness of the cavern. Stepping forward, I was immediatly frozen in my tracks a a terrible wail echoed up and out of the cave's mouth. Looking back at Urist, we both nodded resolutly and continued on into the depths. Moving deeper and deeper into the earth, I noticed the warmth growing around us. Urist pointed at our feet, bringing my attention to the cavern floor. It was worn smooth as with the passage of many feet. Whatever lay before us, we would be out numbered. Stealthily, and with much weakened resolve on my part, we crept forward until we came upon a great cavern.

I furiously carved all that I could see into my memory. This was a Holistic Den! A score or more of the Spawn were gathered around a massive obsidian effigy of the Holistic Detective, cavorting and contorting upon the stones. Magma poured from the molten heart of the effigy through the amputated stumps of her arms, collecting into a pool in the center of the cavern. On a small peninsula of stone stood a small figure surrounded by three Spawn, each easily half again the size of the specimen I studied so long ago. With a start, I realized that the figure before us must be the lost Bustmoistened for he wore the colors of Inkrags. Before us the three Spawn each raised an obsidian sword above them then as one brought them down upon the unresisting body of Bustmoistend. Two of the blades clove his arms from him while last split him from brow to groin. Soundlessly, Bustmoisten dropped to his knees as his blood ran red into the magma below him. Another, smaller Spawn shuffled forward and scooped a chunk of obsidian formed by Bustmoistened's blood and shoved the still red hot mass into the dwarf's chest. Finally, a shrill wail ripped from his tattered lips as he convulsed at the Spawn's feet. Moments that felt like hours passed until a new and horrible thing that was once a good and solid dwarf shambled to its feet. An involuntary gasp of horror passed from my lips. Cursing me for a sun blind fool, Urist pulled me bodily away from the opening to the ritual chamber and back towards the entrance. unfortunately, our passage did not go unnoticed. before we could escape, a shuffling and clacking directly behind us signaled that we were discovered. Turning, to find a single Spawn, Urist drew his blade and lunged forward, slashing the creature across the throat, failing to remove its head but succeeding in preventing its calls from alerting its kindred. attempting to aid my friend, I gripped my sharpest flencing knife and circle around to Urist's side only to be shoved bodily behind a boulder as the creature's claws flashed across the space previously occupied by my scalp. Another flash of Urist's sword relieved the creature of its arm but in doing so, Urist lost his grip on his sword and, indeed, his own arm as the creature's other claws swept around before he could retreat.

Enraged, I leapt the top of the boulder onto the creature's back and gouged at its face, ducking from its flailing claw, I eventually succeeded in severing its gristly neck and wrenched its head from its shoulders, dropping the creature immeadiatly but not halting it thrashing. Grabbing Urist by his cloak, I struggled to drag him back to the entrance. Within sight of the exit, more cries began to echo up around us. Forcing himself to his feet, his maimed arm tied tightly with his swordbelt, Urist took up his sword and turned back towards the depths of the caves. "Go" he bade me, pressing a small sharp object into my palm. "I am at my end but you must tell of what you have seen" Again he shoves me and haltingly I head for the cave mouth. I apologize, tears freezing in my beard as I step back into the freezing wind outside the cave. "Die well, my friend"

Stumbling, half blind with grief and terror, I finally find my way back to the fortress. I tell the Manager of the Spawn and lie to Sugan about the fate of her brother. I tell of his heroism in finding the Spawn's Den and his tragic death along with Urist as we attempted to escape.

Sitting alone on the carts, I study the thing Urist gave to me when we parted. It is a small stone amulet, shaped like a sword. On the back of the amulet is engraved only the word.... "Nemo"

Skullbuggy wrote :-

Entry - 8 Gran., the Sixth Year

It has become increasingly apparent that I may not make it through this year. My beard has begun to gray--not just with age, but with the stress of living in this arctic hellhole. Every day, I fear that the spawn, or sand raiders... hell, even if a batman got lucky enough to kill somebody, I bring up the possibility in my head. It's a horrible, wracking feeling, and by Armok's bloody hammer, there seems to be no way of getting it out.

I have decided that, if I were to spend my last days on this plane in Udibgovos, I would do it by helping my fellow dwarves in their labor. I feel that my contributions, however small, would nonetheless be beneficial to Udibgovos' survival.

I pray that my mood elevates some time soon.

- S. Mengigam, Manager

Entry - 14 Gran., the Sixth Year

(There is no journal entry proper. Instead, there is a small leaflet tucked between the pages, which reads:)



If you are reading this, then it may be because I have passed on like so many before me. If such an event has occurred, let it be known that this is a collection of final requests for Skullivan B. Mengigam, manager and bookkeeper of Udibgovos the Mountainhome in the cold north. Please take into account all of the following, and please accomplish any tasks/obligations/etc. to the best of one's ability.

(The following is what is already written, as most of the document has been left unfinished.)


I wish not to be entombed, nor enshrined. I doubt I would have left such a mark on the history of Udibgovos anyhow... instead, I wish to be discarded into the magma tubes below Udibgovos, so that I may become one with the Mountainhome itself, and so I may become one with the creation of our Esteemed Lord Moldath of the Caves of Color. If one wishes, they may do whatever they would like with said magma.


If I am to be replaced, let it be known that all of my possessions and my domicile be given to the next, most worthy candidate for manager. If I were to choose a successor, I would let it be known that the current overseer will do a better job than I, in my short life, would have.

My desk, chair, and other furniture will be given to the current overseer or whoever he or she chooses as successor to my job. If they do not want said furniture, please either burn it with my body or give it to somebody who will appreciate it.


Please discard of my writings after death. They serve no use to anybody who will come here in the future, as by the time they do, Udibgovos will have most certainly perished in the frigid cold of the north.



(This section is blank, and the entire document seems to end here.)