Difference between revisions of "ASCII art reward/M-S"

to the ground sputtering. Rognar had been born into a world of

summit of the corpse mound and surveyed the carnage. The siege had

been broken. Here and there, a wimpering slave of darkness put up

battlefield. Rognar smiled. It was a great day to be a dwarf.

He would never let the fiend escape again. That was what Neandar the

after the skulking kobold thief. For many seconds they fell, time

Fortress Guard. Wet matter slammed into the dwarf's face and gave

way. The dwarf smashed through a dozen giant spider webs and hit the

A huge standing ring of fire dominated the floor of the chasm. The

kobold made for the hell portal with all speed. Neandar stopped in

his tracks. It was one thing to plunge to certain death in order to

retrieve a granite puzzle box. It was quite another to cast oneself

into a dimension of ultimate evil. Yet these kobold cowards could not

be allowed to run about as they pleased. Lifting his axe over his

them. Shizenbubin was the tracker of the group, always hot on the

trail of danger. Shizentubin was her sister, skilled in the ways of

the blade so that no enemy neck was safe. Azoul Buck was the leader.

This would be a short quest indeed. A party of goblins had ambushed

the prince on his way to the castle. All the heroes need do is return

him unspoiled. It would be easy to intercept them then on their way

to the Black Fortress, given Shizenbubin's incredible skill. However,

time was not on their side. Goblins grew bored easily and might make

sport of the prince's bodily members. Azoul set the pace, a quick

trot through the woods. She smiled at the easily-won glory that

block which he had just slid into place. Ever since the Baron had insisted

rats. It couldn't be helped. Gold was gold after all, but it was just

The dwarf laid down on his bed and began to think about the next project. A

puzzlebox, perhaps, something challenging. Just as Doran was drifting off

"Ha! Keep trying you little demons," the dwarf chuckled. The scratching

continued. It was irritating, but the dwarf could block it out. Then there

was a grating scrape as the block moved an inch. The dwarf sat up and

stared at the wall in amazement. Impossible, he thought.

The block slid forward further. Small, clawed fingers worked their way

stabbing downward. The tool grazed the hand, leaving a spatter of blood on

the stone. There was a shriek, and the bleeding hand disappeared into the

hand. After a moment, the scratching began anew.

"Leave me be, you fiend!" Doran yelled, his chisel held toward the stone

block. The scratching became louder and more persistent.

crack. The beast had learned. The slab of granite was being pushed

directly from behind, and it glided slowly toward Doran. The dwarf backed

The block stopped sliding. There was now enough space to allow something to

not see behind it. For a long moment, nothing stirred. The craftsdwarf

At once, a creature leapt from behind the block and faced Doran. It was a

patchy-furred flesh stretched tight over its starved body. The thing

The dwarf stood, a vial in his hand. The ratman lunged forward and Doran

hurled the vial at the beast's face. The glass shattered, and the creature

clutched its black protruding eyes as they steamed. Doran rushed forward

"Pity about that. I was going to ask Mul to do some etchings for me."

pausing to take another swig of whiskey. "I can't believe how much trouble

replied. "Kogan's child was taken not long ago."

Meanwhile, Kogan stood with his axe by the chasm bridge. Ever since the boy

spiders. He would not be satisfied until the depths were devoid of life.

A foul wind blew up from the chasm. Kogan leaned to the side and peered

down over the edge of the bridge. The impact was sudden and the dwarf was

knocked on his back in the middle of the bridge. Kogan heard the sound of

==[[User:Met|Met]]==

===(June 2011)===

<pre>||~@++%||@++++</pre>

"I am innocent of these crimes!" cried Fuglin as he was dragged away. Sitting in the dungeon cell, he could recall the cheers of the dwarves as the judge pronounced the verdict. It wasn't fair. The adamantine wasn't his.  He was just holding it for somebody.  Now in prison, he was left to rot. A guard stopped by his cell and poured a cup of gruel on the cold stone floor.  Anger and despair were all he felt now.  From now on he dared not hope.

--

It had begun as such a small thing. Fuglin and the goblin had known each other since the construction of the fortress. Fuglin was young then.

One day Fuglin visited the goblin, this time locked in the stockade.

"You know the path through the stone?" said the goblin. "The one we built as children?  You must go there and bring me what you find. It is the key to my release."

<pre>,.,.,.,.,@|#######&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&</pre>

The space was not built for more than a child, a narrow, twisting tunnel winding its way through the foundations of the fortress. At the bottom, Fuglin saw a light, a silvery glowing rock at the end of the tunnel. This must be it, thought Fuglin, a bribe to set the goblin free. Hastily, Fuglin took up his pick and chiseled off a piece of the silver metal.

Something lay beyond the tunnel.  A hole the size of a dwarf's fist opened where Fuglin struck.  He could hear a strange howling within, no doubt another subterranean jungle.  The dwarf didn't stay to find out.  He squirmed as fast as he could, finally reaching the exit where he found the goblin, free from his bonds.

"You survived," said the goblin. "Keep the adamantine as a token of our friendship."

"Wait!" cried Fuglin, but the goblin had disappeared.

<pre>@@@@@,.,o@,..##||#&#&#&&&&#&</pre>

What happened next was hard to say.  There was a lot of smoke and fire.  Dwarves ran screaming through the fortress.  Captains shouted orders to soldiers they could not see through the clouds of burning vapor.  Fuglin was scared beyond reason.  He tried to follow the others, ducking when the monsters swooped down.

It seemed it would never end, then Fuglin came rolling out of the fortress gate just as another fire blast rocketed overhead. As it was, the demons could not, or would not set foot outside the fortress. What few dwarves that were left gathered at the hills below.  Fuglin recognized a blacksmith which with he had apprenticed.  Before he could speak the blacksmith pointed his finger.

"You have a visitor," said the prison guard.

"Take this glass pill," said the goblin, holding out his hand, "and

bite down with your teeth.  Death will come swiftly."

The goblin dropped the pill into Fuglin's open hand. The fluid in the

green glass capsule looked black and foreboding.  Still, it beat a

humiliating public execution. The goblin turned and left without

saying another word. Fuglin put the pill in his mouth and bit down

hard.  A moment's dizziness was all he had time to experience.

"Where am I?" asked Fuglin.

"Quiet," said the goblin.  "We are in the catacombs.  The dwarves

believe you committed suicide."

 

"But I did commit suicide," mumbled Fuglin.

 

"You can take that up with your deity later," said the goblin.  "For

now we must get you out of these funeral shrouds and escape before we

are discovered."

 

 

<pre>g@,.,.@@@></pre>

Why had he been rescued? Fuglin was a traitor and had to be forged anew, but to do that, he had to die.  The goblin held his hand as they exited the tomb.  There was a family of dwarves mourning just outside. As they passed, the goblin held Fuglin close, pretending to be lovers lost in grief. It worked this time, but in order to start a new life, they needed Fuglin to exchange his sackcloth for real clothes. The goblin led Fuglin through a maze of corridors to the fortress market.

 

“You look like a scribe to me,” said the goblin.

 

“Like those creeps that spend their whole lives in the library?” complained Fuglin.

 

“Forget your old life,” said the goblin.  “That is what it means to serve in the Order of Nadir.”

===(November 2009)===

<pre>UUUU/UU/U#+!++@@@@</pre>

 

Dwarves hurled boulders down on the invaders as they advanced by

ladder.  Sharkra smiled, for this meant they had run out of ammunition

for their war machines.  She dodged out of the way as a human invader

plunged down past her to a rocky doom.  Sharkra grimaced.  Machines or

not, these dwarves would fight the death to save their blasted

mountain. At last she reached the battlements.

troop of mercenaries, the Unholy Band.  This time is was rat-lord

Gomra that hired her.

Sharkra pulled herself onto the fortress wall. Members of the Unholy

Band leapt over the battlements, light on their feet. Together they

advanced on the dwarves. Sharkra wielded a giant mace, while the Band

pulled rapiers from polished sheaths.

 

“We have you,” said Sharkra. “Throw down your weapons and die quickly.”

 

Something sailed through the air and struck Sharkra in the face, a

glass flask filled with fuming liquid. The glass shattered sending

face and it came back covered in slime.  She straightened up and

looked around.  The Unholy Band was laughing at her.  Sadly, this

wasn’t the first time.

“What are you standing around for?” screeched Sharkra. “Kill them.”

The vain and evil Sharkra pulled a mirror from her pack which she

carried at all times.  Her face was never much to begin with, but now

it was utterly ruined.  Gomra, thought Sharkra, it is all his fault.

The warrior woman whistled and the Unholy Band followed her as she

retreated from the fortress.

“It is said,” intoned dwarf captain Duzelm, “that evil shall always

turn upon itself.”

“What is your plan master?” asked Bally, the dwarven squire.

“We shall follow this villain back to Lord Gomra,” said Duzelm “and

catch all the rats in the same trap. Go to the humans in Gelthtown,

they have the quick steeds we require.”

Before the day was through, the men of Gelthtown had assembled the

horses, along with master rider Jorna. She was blond and lean, draped

in the leathers of a Gelthtown tracker.  The dwarves climbed onto the

horses and strapped themselves in.

“Are you sure you can keep up with the Unholy Band?” asked Captain Duzelm.

Jorna laughed.  “Just pray I don’t reach Gomra before Sharkra does,” she said.

 

 

 

It was that time again.  The farming gates weren't operational, and the planting had to begin immediately.  Fish-Dwarf had his tools, and the special fins he had manufactured were secured to broad feet.  Everything was ready.  The frightened faces of the onlooking children would not dissuade him.  Fish-Dwarf understood that this was his calling.  He was the only one that could save the outpost.  The dwarf inhaled, and his chest swelled to nearly double its original size.  Clearing his mind, the dwarf dove into the water.

 

 

Fish-Dwarf swam down the narrow tunnel to the gate mechanism.  The water was murky and even with his superior vision he could only just see his hands sweeping ahead of him.

 

 

 

"Fish-Dwarf, you have saved us!" the children shouted as the wet dwarf

pulled his way up on to the bank.  He had finished his last cleaning

run, and already the floodgate was rising, ushering in the waters that

would prepare the way for the summer harvest.

"Truly, Fish-Dwarf, your mastery of the murky depths never ceases to

amaze us.  You are a hero," the Mayor Kogan said, offering Fish-Dwarf

a mug of the outpost's best.

"I am glad I could help," Fish-Dwarf said, draining the mug in one

motion.  "If only the river waters were whiskey, my life would be

complete."

"I fear we would never see you again if that were the case!" the Mayor jested.

Fish-Dwarf pondered a moment.  "Indeed.  Yet the search for the

Whiskey River is a quest for the young, I'm afraid."

"We here at Gladanvil are happy to have you," the Mayor replied as the

crowd dispersed. As the others left, the mayor pulled Fish-Dwarf

aside.

"-- and yet, I fear you cannot stay long. I've received word from

King Dorazar. He has heard tell of your talents, and our liaison from

the Mountainhome has conveyed his request for your presence at the

capital."

"My presence?  Surely the engineers of the Mountainhome can manage the

mighty floodgates and channels of Steelpoint without my help."

"It isn't farming trouble, Fish-Dwarf," the Mayor said, lowering his

voice to a whisper. "Many fisherdwarves have been lost to the waters.

There is something lurking in the Lake of Columns."

 

Innumerable stalactites hung from the ceiling of the expansive gem-lit

cavern, many dipping down through the still surface of the black

waters.  This was the Lake of Columns, the source of life for

Steelpoint, and now a place of dread.

Fish-Dwarf fit the blades into place on his fins.  The citizens of

Steelpoint did not know what the creature was, but no fewer than seven

fisherdwarves had been lost at the shore. No matter, thought

Fish-Dwarf.  King Dorazar had charged him to slay the lurking threat,

and that is what he would do.  Still, the nature of the creature

eluded him. It had been years since his last combat with an aquatic

beast, and then it was only the cave crocodiles and lizardmen that

sent for him over such a triviality.  Hefting his mighty trident,

Fish-Dwarf nodded to the gathered onlookers before leaping into the

lake.

The water was clear, and he could see the broad columns well ahead of

him down to where they joined the submerged floor of the cavern.

Behind any of these formations, the beast could lurk.

the lake bottom.  Fish-Dwarf swam closer, almost drifting.  What

manner of beast was this?  Great tentacles it had, and a toothy maw

which flopped open as it slumbered, surrounded by half-consumed bodies

of the dead.

Fish-Dwarf was almost upon it now, his trident lifted above his head

as he sank slowly toward the sleeping fiend. As he prepared to

strike, the lurid thing's lone eye flashed open.

Tentacles lashed out, looping around Fish-Dwarf's torso and pinning

his arms to his chest.  A force stronger than any he had ever

mouth as the breath was squeezed from his body. Fish-Dwarf

vision faded to black he saw that the water was thick with curling

purple ribbons of the foul beast's tainted blood. The monster's grip

loosened and Fish-Dwarf was able to free his arms.  His sight had not

deep into the creature. The monster's body convulsed and it raced

into the open water, Fish-Dwarf still clinging to the imbedded weapon.

suddenly in the back of his mind arose a strange sensation...  it was

the need for air, such as he had not experienced for many years. A

tingling came to his throat and nose, and his head began to feel numb

returning.

The beast slowed, its energy spent, and it settled on to the lake

greeted him. The monster had fled into a great crack in the lake

bottom, so far and so deep that the light from the gem lamps was no

tomb of Fish-Dwarf, he thought, as he chose a direction and swam.

<pre>,@!,.~~~~~~~~</pre>

he sat up and assessed his situation.  

He could dive back into the water with his lungs full of air and try

to find the lamps, now unmolested by great underwater beasts, but he

did not relish the idea of leaving the entrance to the shaft behind in

total darkness as he explored the crevice below. The only alternative

was to feel his way along the walls from this ledge above the grotto.

brief exploration of the surrounding stone he found this hollow was no

exception -- there was a mud-slicked passage that ran into the

mountain. Without hesitation, Fish-Dwarf struck out into the cavern.

puddle these many days. He thirsted for spirits, nay, even water, and

and other equipment as they encumbered him too much on the march.

could just as easily be the cooking fires of a goblin encampment, or

some darker torture, as the lights of the capital he sought. There

they were, even now... lights! Or light at least, the barest speck

in the distance ahead. Fish-Dwarf moved swiftly, no longer plodding,

same. The speck became an opening, and he could see the mud of the

beyond. Only a few more steps...  

the greatest heights yet welcoming the noon-day sun. The entrance

down pebble-laden slopes to the stream below. Instantly, Fish-Dwarf

intoxicating aroma! There was no question in his mind. Whether it

underworld to besot the armies of hell made no difference, for here,

of the Whiskey River. His mind unencumbered by thoughts of duty or

home, Fish-Dwarf made his way down to the riverside to drink his fill.

<pre>,..,.++U+,.+,.+U~U||</pre>

Suffering blighted the land with cruel hunger.  Wagons brought foul

"The gods have abandoned this place," said the king.  "Only through

preferable to slow certain death by starvation.

<pre>==?T?====,.UH,.U</pre>

As Paldadar walked away from the keep, peasants averted their hungry

faces. He was still a knight, even if he represented the most

wretched of kingdoms. A frail sissy approached from behind, leading

two horses. Paldadar swung around, drawing his sword. There stood

Rodger, wearing the snottiest of faces, his nose in the air.

"By the will of the king," he hissed, "I am to be your squire."

Paldadar prayed to the gods for mercy.  Would that a Farthling's bolt

find his heart soon that he be saved from further tortures.  Together

the pair made their way to the Temple of Love, where High Priest

Igland waited to bless their holy crusade.

   

The temple was built on a tall hill, a ring of marble columns

surrounding an enormous stone stele, pricking the sky with its

majesty.  All around the temple, peasants scrambled to snatch at the

scraps donated by the monks that poured rotten food down the hill.  As

Paldadar entered the temple, he was surrounded by fat priests and

priestesses that danced around him in a grotesque, undulating display.  

At the center of the temple, High Priest Igland stood, wearing nothing

save a red loincloth.

"When you wake in the morning," said Igland, "consider Love."

"Many happy couplings," said Paldadar as was the prescribed response.

"You must put an end to the Farthling menace," said the priest,

growing angry. "If their God of Suicide spreads his faith to our

the heart of their kingdom and burn their temple to the ground."

Paldadar made the gesture of obedience and departed, pulling Rodger

by the River of Sorrow, whose wide fast-moving waters could only be

approached, Rodger twitched with fear and apprehension, for it was

said the bridge was guarded by an evil water troll. At the bridge,

Paldadar held up his gauntleted hand.  The horses stopped, and the

wooden planks.

across the blighted landscape.  The knight turned to see Rodger making

tracks back to the temple with the speed of a spooked hare.  Slowly

Paldadar looked over his shoulder to see the enormous bloated troll,

dripping with slime and black pus.

"You seek to pass into the land of suicide bearing the message of

love," said the troll. "What will you tell them, knight?  Is slow

certain death by starvation superior than the final empowering

"Spoken like a true student of Igland," said the troll, assuming a martial pose.

hope to a strange country.  He found Rodger hiding in a nearby bush

and hauled him, protesting, across the bridge.

The land of the Farthlings was lush and green compared to the land of

love. Cherry blossoms rained down on the two riders as they wound

demented nature of the Farthlings soon became evident.  Bodies dotted

hung in the trees from hastily-tied nooses, over eager to take their

own lives.  As the riders passed, skeletal bodies lifted themselves

from the grass to watch them saunter on.

reciting the Charm of Making.

At last they reached the capital of the Farthlings.  The wind blew red

rose petals through the cold, dead streets.  Even the cheerful sun

as they made their way to the keep, careful not to look into the dark

castle. As the two riders approached, a draw bridge was lowered over

the water.  Paldadar thought he could see a crowned figure on the wall

mistake of looking down into the water. The currents were filled with

the souls of those who drowned themselves in desperate sorrow.  Eyes

into the gate.

<pre>~~~~,.%,.@@@""""""</pre>

 

The flight across the sea had been a wild and dangerous one. The

giant nuthatch the dwarves were riding wasn't built for long distance

missions.  Just about the time the far coast had been sighted, the

bird suffered a massive heart attack. Uren spoke encouraging words to

 

 

"You should have more respect for your elders," snapped Aliza. "If we

So the adventure began. There were only three dwarves in a land

world. There was no time to bury the body of the giant bird and news

of their spectacular entrance was bound to spread fast. Beyond the

covered peaks on the horizon. Wherever the fragment had ended up, it

found it. Doraj suggested they head for the tallest peak and they

the loyal troops withdrew and fled from the hall. The invaders

cheered while their victorious leader sat upon the throne. With no

later. One of the defeated Hearthmen approached the king in his war

tent. Upon hearing of the warrior's failure, Urlen drew his sword and

struck off the coward's head. Urlen wasn't known to be reasonable

"Ready my chariot," commanded Urlen. "We will see how tough the Tombs

crones. "Ole Brick-a-Branch will get you." Nonsense, thought young

Davik as he rode his mule along the twisting green deer path. The

darkness came quickly as the sun slipped behind the trees. As he set

Not even the elves dared enter the Wood at night. Something older

way to Port City, saving at least a month of travel. As the night

A great shape emerged from the darkness. It was a gnarled troll, as

old as the hills. It picked up Davik by the ankle.

Doran stirred the bubbling pot of syrup. It was ready! "Pour, pour, pour!" the dwarf sang. Into the molds the syrup flowed. "Another batch," the dwarf said, satisfied.

Just then, he noticed somebody standing in the doorway. "Ah, Glornol. What brings you to the kitchens this early? Come to try a sticky treat? I have some Anvil Drops cooling now. Just a moment."

Doran turned to the tray on the table when he was startled by Glornol's shouting. "What is the meaning of this? Isn't there a war on?"

"Even soldiers need sticky treats, Glornol!" Doran picked up two chocolate goblins and began to speak in a high-pitched throaty voice.

"Let's eat the dwarf! Yummies for tummies!" the first chocolate goblin offered.

"The dwarf might eat me instead! Oh no!" the second chocolate goblin replied. Doran held the goblin out to Glornol.

Glornol was not amused, but he snatched the candy from Doran's hand. "Hrmph," he grunted, and biting the goblin's head off, he walked out of the kitchen.

by clusters of pale eyes. A table by the chasm?!  

Dolan was chatting with Aliz about the health benefits of dwarven beer when Aliz disappeared.

translucent silk wrapped around his left ankle. At the lip of the chasm, a bloated form slowly

reeled the line in with her spindly legs.

Dolan knew immediately -- it was the Wolf-Mother of Darkness.

dropping his load, and ran toward the barracks. As he heard the sound of an axe ring against

The axe had scored the stone floor where it had severed the silk line. The Wolf-Mother chittered

angrily and pounced at Dolan, moving with surprising quickness. Dolan was knocked to the ground,

the enormous body of the foul creature pressing him into the stone. His axe clanged some distance

away. The blunt knobs at the end of the Wolf-Mother's forelegs dug into Dolan's ribs as her

dripping mandibles drew closer to his face. He grabbed her head with both hands, trying

desperately to keep her at bay. A foul-smelling spittle dripped on to his cheek.

Aliz, still dazed from his initial fall, slowly made his way to his feet. Seeing Dolan's desperate

struggle, he drew his sword and hacked at one of the Wolf-Mother's legs. The bumpy skin was

incredibly tough, but the steel blade left the appendage hanging by tatters. The Wolf-Mother

belched a grating rasp and rolled away from Aliz and faced the dwarves. Dolan crawled toward his

axe, but the nauseating venom drenching his face and beard had left him almost powerless. The

protruding from her many eyes. In the distance stood Bomtek and the other marksdwarves,  

accompanied by Kogarak. Aliz rushed to Dolan. The dwarf was breathing heavily.

"My body feels like gravel. I need a drink," Dolan said.

"The Wolf-Mother is dead. Brace up. I'll bring you your mug." Aliz fetched Dolan's mug from

the table and brought it to the dwarf where he lay on the stone floor. The mug was almost empty.

"The brood," Dolan whispered. "The night brood will come."

==[[User:Rewolf31|Rewolf31]]==

===(13 April 2007)===

<pre>.B@.~~~

And so Alor, a wrestler of renown, found himself between a great boar and the wide river. For six days they struggled, and as the sun descended behind the hills on the evening of the seventh day, Alor finally collapsed in exhaustion. The boar spoke and said, "I too am tired. The sun has fallen. Let us rest."  And so Alor and the boar slept, and the sun arose on the morning of the eighth day.

<pre>,.,B@~,~,~</pre>