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Difference between revisions of "User:Dark T Zeratul/Glentreaties"
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Exiled. Can you believe it? Me. Vegdrasil. Brewmaster of Shorast Nar, exiled because of some stupid whiney elf bastard who got all uppity because the ale keg I gave him was made of wood "cruelly slain by cave-dwelling savages." How was I to know that he was the prince? Anyway, since King Outhalast apparently really wanted to make good diplomatic ties with those tree-dwelling pricks, he's thrown me in with the latest expeditionary force. Of course, everyone knows that these so-called "expeditions" to construct new fortresses are really just a way of getting rid of the undesirables. Most of the fortresses are never heard from again, and those that are usually don't bear good news. The caravan to Angelpeace reported nothing but bones only two years after its founding. The caravan to Bronzedawns never even returned at all. And Headshoots? Well, the less said about Headshoots the better, really. | Exiled. Can you believe it? Me. Vegdrasil. Brewmaster of Shorast Nar, exiled because of some stupid whiney elf bastard who got all uppity because the ale keg I gave him was made of wood "cruelly slain by cave-dwelling savages." How was I to know that he was the prince? Anyway, since King Outhalast apparently really wanted to make good diplomatic ties with those tree-dwelling pricks, he's thrown me in with the latest expeditionary force. Of course, everyone knows that these so-called "expeditions" to construct new fortresses are really just a way of getting rid of the undesirables. Most of the fortresses are never heard from again, and those that are usually don't bear good news. The caravan to Angelpeace reported nothing but bones only two years after its founding. The caravan to Bronzedawns never even returned at all. And Headshoots? Well, the less said about Headshoots the better, really. | ||
| − | So anyway, this batch of ingrates that I'm stuck with is a real piece of work. Our self-appointed leader, Brumbol, hates our mason, Id, who hates our cook, Cali. Our planter, Sarvesh, is a kleptomaniac. Our carpenter Anga seems to be made entirely out of muscle, and I | + | So anyway, this batch of ingrates that I'm stuck with is a real piece of work. Our self-appointed leader, Brumbol, hates our mason, Id, who hates our cook, Cali. Our planter, Sarvesh, is a kleptomaniac. Our carpenter Anga seems to be made entirely out of muscle, and I'm fairly certain our engineer, Nil, is secretly planning our deaths. I swear, if I live through this, it will be a miracle. |
1st of Granite, 1051<br/> | 1st of Granite, 1051<br/> | ||
Well, we've finally arrived at this godforsaken place. A river valley at the edge of the East Swamp, in the foothills of the Mountains of the Invisible Tower... This is where we've been told to build our fortress. Snow still covers much of the ground, and the river (more of a stream, really) looks like it's frozen solid. There aren't even any wild animals around that I can see, although depending how you look at it that's not necessarily a bad thing. If there were elephants here, it would be... Bad. There was another fortress that had problems with elephants. It ended with a single half-crazed warrior walking away from a barren field filled with naught but bones and ash and a warning to never go there again. | Well, we've finally arrived at this godforsaken place. A river valley at the edge of the East Swamp, in the foothills of the Mountains of the Invisible Tower... This is where we've been told to build our fortress. Snow still covers much of the ground, and the river (more of a stream, really) looks like it's frozen solid. There aren't even any wild animals around that I can see, although depending how you look at it that's not necessarily a bad thing. If there were elephants here, it would be... Bad. There was another fortress that had problems with elephants. It ended with a single half-crazed warrior walking away from a barren field filled with naught but bones and ash and a warning to never go there again. | ||
Revision as of 05:31, 9 June 2010
Journal of Brewmaster Vegdrasil
17th of Sandstone, 1050
Exiled. Can you believe it? Me. Vegdrasil. Brewmaster of Shorast Nar, exiled because of some stupid whiney elf bastard who got all uppity because the ale keg I gave him was made of wood "cruelly slain by cave-dwelling savages." How was I to know that he was the prince? Anyway, since King Outhalast apparently really wanted to make good diplomatic ties with those tree-dwelling pricks, he's thrown me in with the latest expeditionary force. Of course, everyone knows that these so-called "expeditions" to construct new fortresses are really just a way of getting rid of the undesirables. Most of the fortresses are never heard from again, and those that are usually don't bear good news. The caravan to Angelpeace reported nothing but bones only two years after its founding. The caravan to Bronzedawns never even returned at all. And Headshoots? Well, the less said about Headshoots the better, really.
So anyway, this batch of ingrates that I'm stuck with is a real piece of work. Our self-appointed leader, Brumbol, hates our mason, Id, who hates our cook, Cali. Our planter, Sarvesh, is a kleptomaniac. Our carpenter Anga seems to be made entirely out of muscle, and I'm fairly certain our engineer, Nil, is secretly planning our deaths. I swear, if I live through this, it will be a miracle.
1st of Granite, 1051
Well, we've finally arrived at this godforsaken place. A river valley at the edge of the East Swamp, in the foothills of the Mountains of the Invisible Tower... This is where we've been told to build our fortress. Snow still covers much of the ground, and the river (more of a stream, really) looks like it's frozen solid. There aren't even any wild animals around that I can see, although depending how you look at it that's not necessarily a bad thing. If there were elephants here, it would be... Bad. There was another fortress that had problems with elephants. It ended with a single half-crazed warrior walking away from a barren field filled with naught but bones and ash and a warning to never go there again.