User:Smoking Gnu/Blood for the Blood God!

Blood and glory in... the Fields of Playing?

Essentially, I'll create a huge sacrificial altar, taking some advice from my fellow players (but I cannot stress the fact any more that I do not want any changes, unless spelling corrections, to the story). When immigration waves come, I can rename them if you want.

Dwarves:

The Scourge, Mayor/bookkeeper: The Scourge

Major, smith/jeweler/miner/marksdwarf: The Underminer

Donut, butcher/broker/architect: The Artful Butcher

Sav, cook/brewer: The Peaceful Chef

Lordo, fisherdwarf/fish cleaner: The Reaper of the Waters

Edward, woodcutter/axedwarf: The Fleshwood Bane

The Traitor (to be sacrificed)

An Apology

I apologize, but I can no longer continue this community fortress. I've encountered something of a writer's block and anything I've tried to write becomes a mish-mash of badly written cliches and three to four letter words. I'm sorry if I disappointed anyone or offended anyone with my gung-ho attitude, this has been a very sobering experience for me. I now formally retire from creating community fortresses.

Smoking Gnu

P.S.: I'd really prefer if this apology would go without further comment, whether criticism or pity. I'd honestly like to put this all behind me. Once more, I apologize.

The Beginning

The Scourge is his title: his name is forgotten. He stands proud in front of the followers who have assembled on that faithful day. He coughs, and all fall silent.

"As we all know," he begins, "we live in a time of evil. The true God is shunned for lesser spirits and goes unworshipped. Blood has not been spilled in years, and I sense that the Crimson One will soon place us once more onto his anvil of worlds to be reforged and obliterated. Those who stay true to him are captured or put to death in an organized manner so that it cannot be seen. This angers the Blood God, as he revels in chaos and intrigue. Our culture has become stale and our world obsolete. There is only one thing left to do. We must set out and found a new homeland to entertain the Great One, as none shall survive the coming of the hammer. I have chosen those who have served the blood god well. I can only hope that you faithful ones will come later. The chosen ones are," he speaks, raising a sheet of parchment, "Major, the Underminer; Donut, the Artful Butcher; Lordo, the Reaper of the Waters; Edward, the Fleshwood Bane; and Sav... the cook..." He pauses, somewhat embarrassed, then continues in his loud, firm tone, "With us, we will bring the Traitor, and he will serve the Blood God well. Blood for the Blood God!"

And all the people shouted, "Blood for the Blood God!"

Arrival

The Scourge awakes. As he raises his head from the cart, he senses the heat in the air. Around him, a peaceful, endless field stretches. "This is the place," he mutters to himself. As he watched the cats play, he knows that blood will wilt the flowers that grow here. He smiles. "The Blood God will be pleased."

Site

The Fields of Playing, a scorching serene freshwater marsh with a volcano and a small pond. Sorry, but it was the best I could find.