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| | As he passed through many lands, his anger would not fade, for it was as large as he was. He did not usually care for what he stepped on, but this time was different. He stopped for a moment and looked below. Underneath his foot was a tiny speck. He pinched it up and held it before his eyes. It was a giant tortoise. | | As he passed through many lands, his anger would not fade, for it was as large as he was. He did not usually care for what he stepped on, but this time was different. He stopped for a moment and looked below. Underneath his foot was a tiny speck. He pinched it up and held it before his eyes. It was a giant tortoise. |
| − |
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| − | ==[[User:Zesty|Zesty]]==
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| − | ===(June 2011)===
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| − | <pre>||~@++%||@++++</pre>
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| − |
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| − | "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.
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| − |
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| − | --
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| − |
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| − | 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.
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| − |
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| − | One day Fuglin visited the goblin, this time locked in the stockade.
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| − |
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| − | "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."
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| − |
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| − | ===(July 2011)===
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| − | <pre>,.,.,.,.,@|#######&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&</pre>
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| − |
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| − | 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.
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| − |
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| − | 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.
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| − |
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| − | "You survived," said the goblin. "Keep the adamantine as a token of our friendship."
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| − |
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| − | "Wait!" cried Fuglin, but the goblin had disappeared.
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| − |
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| − | ===(October 2011)===
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| − | <pre>@@@@@,.,o@,..##||#&#&#&&&&#&</pre>
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| − |
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| − | 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.
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| − |
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| − | 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.
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| − |
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| − | "He is the one!" the dwarf cried. "Look! He still has the rock in his paw!"
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| − |
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| − | Fuglin looked down, having until now forgotten the adamantine in his hand.
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| − |
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| − | ===(July 2014)===
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| − | <pre>@g+0++0++0++0++0++0++0++<</pre>
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| − |
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| − | "You have a visitor," said the prison guard.
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| − |
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| − | It was the goblin, dressed in a dark cloak. Fuglin had blamed his
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| − | fate on the goblin, but now that he saw him it all seemed so
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| − | pointless. In the morning, he would go to the hammerer to be forged
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| − | anew. Fuglin began to wonder why the goblin showed up at all if not
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| − | to gloat at his handiwork.
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| − |
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| − | "Take this glass pill," said the goblin, holding out his hand, "and
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| − | bite down with your teeth. Death will come swiftly."
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| − |
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| − | The goblin dropped the pill into Fuglin's open hand. The fluid in the
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| − | green glass capsule looked black and foreboding. Still, it beat a
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| − | humiliating public execution. The goblin turned and left without
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| − | saying another word. Fuglin put the pill in his mouth and bit down
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| − | hard. A moment's dizziness was all he had time to experience.
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| − |
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| − | "Where am I?" asked Fuglin.
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| − |
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| − | "Quiet," said the goblin. "We are in the catacombs. The dwarves
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| − | believe you committed suicide."
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| − |
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| − | "But I did commit suicide," mumbled Fuglin.
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| − |
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| − | "You can take that up with your deity later," said the goblin. "For
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| − | now we must get you out of these funeral shrouds and escape before we
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| − | are discovered."
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| − |
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| − | ===(October 2015)===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>g@,.,.@@@></pre>
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| − |
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| − | 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.
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| − |
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| − | “You look like a scribe to me,” said the goblin.
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| − |
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| − | “Like those creeps that spend their whole lives in the library?” complained Fuglin.
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| − |
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| − | “Forget your old life,” said the goblin. “That is what it means to serve in the Order of Nadir.”
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| − |
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| − | ===(November 2015)===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>+++@p|</pre>
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| − |
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| − | Writing prose under the pen name Robinor, Fuglin began his new life as a scribe. Life was different out in the periphery. The monastery where the scribe worked was built into a hillside deep in the Forbidden Forest. Not many people would risk a journey there, but Robinor's works ended up being so skillful and filled with such beauty that he gained the one thing he could no longer afford, fame.
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| − | None of the brothers spoke to Robinor as they had all taken vows of silence, but the dwarf could still tell that they were pretty mad about all the visitors they had been attracting lately. Robinor greeted his fans with the humility one would expect from a monk, but it was easy to tell that the dwarf was succumbing to the sin of pride.
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| − |
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| − | One day, Robinor was praying in the shrine to Nadir when a bird landed on the creepy statue of the god of the depths. It was a parrot, out of place in the cold northern climate. Robinor stood on his feet and walked over to the statue.
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| − |
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| − | “Pretty bird,” said Robinor. “Pretty bird.”
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| − |
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| − | “You are all going to die,” said the parrot.
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| − |
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| − | === (December 2015) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>pg+++@+</pre>
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| − |
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| − | “What?” asked Robinor, stupidly to the bird.
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| − |
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| − | “Fuglin,” said the parrot.
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| − |
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| − | The monk's face went white as a sheet. Someone had taught the parrot to speak these words, someone connected to his old life. The scribe, Robinor, had thought he had left all of that behind. Occasionally a dwarven survivor from Robinor's old fortress would appear at the monastery, but they never recognized him. This was something far more sinister. It had to be the goblin.
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| − |
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| − | “You have a visitor,” croaked a monk.
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| − |
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| − | “Your holy vow?” asked Robinor, panicking.
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| − |
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| − | “See for yourself,” said the monk. “Then you will understand.”
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| − |
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| − | It could only be one person, the phantom from the past. The goblin stood at the entrance of the building, the parrot on his shoulder. He smiled at Robinor as he approached.
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| − |
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| − | “Fuglin!” said the goblin. “It's been a long time, my friend.”
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| − |
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| − | “I am no longer that person,” said Robinor. “I have a new life here.”
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| − |
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| − | “You have the life I gave you,” said the goblin, the smile fading from his lips.
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| − |
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| − | === (January 2016) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>,.@,@@.@,.MMg[@</pre>
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| − |
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| − | “The king has grown attached to the writings of this 'Robinor,'” said the goblin. “This puts you, Fuglin, in the unique position to get close to him. You remember this?”
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| − |
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| − | The glass pill was unmistakable. The black fluid danced inside as the goblin shook it in Fuglin's face. It was the ill-fated dwarf's job to poison the king in any way he could. When Fuglin went to retrieve his writing material, the goblin took him by the arm and removed him forcibly from the building. He would not be needing any of that stuff where he was going. Fuglin fell silent as he boarded the wagon that the goblin drove with its team of mules.
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| − |
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| − | On the way to the capital many travelers stopped the wagon to ask if the dwarven monk was indeed the famous Robinor. The dwarf writer allowed himself to forget the evil quest he was on. Word spread quickly of the scribe's journey to see the king.
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| − |
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| − | “You better do what you're told,” warned the goblin.
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| − |
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| − | === (February 2016) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>|~@+|~g+|+++++++|@@++%|</pre>
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| − | “Robinor,” exclaimed the king, “it is a great honor!”
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| − |
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| − | “It is all too much,” said Robinor, fumbling with the deadly pill in his pocket.
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| − |
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| − | The king clasped the monk's hand and pulled him into his private chambers. The goblin watched ominously as the door closed, sealing the two dwarves inside. Waiting patiently, the goblin eyed the royal guards which flanked the doorway. There wasn't a lot of room to move if this went badly. Just then, the door swung open.
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| − |
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| − | “The king!” cried Robinor. “The king is dead!”
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| − |
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| − | Drawing their weapons, one guard went inside while the other guard arrested Robinor and the goblin. The king had apparently collapsed on the floor. There was a black smear on his lips. The guards took the monk and goblin down to the dungeon to await their fate. When they were separated, the goblin didn't say a word. Robinor didn't know which was worse, to be executed for destroying the fortress, or for regicide.
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| − |
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| − | === (March 2016) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>@@|+++!!%!!</pre>
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| − |
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| − | “It was all the goblin's doing,” cried Fuglin to the lead investigator. “Where is the king's body?”
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| − |
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| − | “Tell me more about this goblin,” said the detective. “How long have you known him?”
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| − |
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| − | “We grew up together,” said Fuglin. “He was always getting me in trouble. Where is the king? There still might be time to save him.”
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| − |
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| − | “You are telling me that the great Robinor is actually the famous traitor, Fuglin the Feckless?” asked the detective.
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| − |
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| − | “That's me! I'll admit to all my crimes,” said Fuglin, “but for forge's sake, just take me to the king's body before it's too late.”
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| − |
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| − | “The king was cremated this morning,” said the detective.
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| − |
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| − | The familiar sinking sensation took hold as Fuglin struggled to accept his situation. The detective collected his scrolls and left Fuglin alone in the holding cell. Fuglin reached into his mouth and pulled out the green glass pill. There was still enough poison for one last dose. He wondered if anyone would be there to wake him this time.
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| − |
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| − | === (April 2016) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>|%++N++@|</pre>
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| − |
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| − | It was cold and dark in the catacombs. Fuglin was shocked that the dwarves had fallen for the same old trick, or was the joke on him this time? The goblin wasn't here to guide him out of the dark tunnels and Fuglin was buried alive. He slid out of the alcove and shed his funeral shroud. It was dark and creepy and Fuglin could sense the dead bodies all around him in various states of decay.
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| − |
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| − | “I am not Fuglin,” said the wretched dwarf. “I am Robinor.”
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| − |
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| − | “You mean the famous poet?” said a voice in the dark.
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| − |
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| − | “The same,” said Robinor after a moment's terror. “Tell me, are you not dead?”
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| − |
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| − | “As dead as the writer who took his own life, twice!” said the ghoulish stranger.
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| − |
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| − | “How is it that you live down here?” asked Robinor.
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| − |
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| − | “I will show you,” said the ghoul.
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| − |
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| − | It was difficult to make out the monster in the dark. It looked basically like a dwarf, but stooped and sickly. Robinor followed him to a grave where the family had left gifts as an offering to the dead. The ghoul took some of the morsels of food and shared them with Robinor.
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| − |
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| − | “A good haul this time,” said the ghoul.
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| − |
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| − | === (May 2016) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>,.,.|@+@g++++!@!@!@!@</pre>
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| − | This was not the fate Fuglin would have chosen for himself. He lived for weeks as a ghoul in the darkness of the catacombs, all the while wishing he could write about his adventures as Robinor. In time, a custodian came to dust off the bodies and Fuglin was lurking nearby. It was the goblin! Fuglin picked up the femur of a decomposing skeleton. When the goblin approached, Fuglin lifted up the bone and prepared for the killer blow.
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| − |
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| − | “I know you are here,” said the goblin.
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| − |
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| − | Stopped in his tracks, Fuglin lowered the bone. He wanted revenge, but more than that, he wanted a way out. The goblin explained to Fuglin how the king's evil adviser had put his own son on the throne and ordered the mass executions of the king's supporters. If Fuglin left now, he could easily escape in the confusion.
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| − |
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| − | Crowds of angry dwarves moved up and down the corridors with torches in their hands. None seemed to notice the humble beggar and his goblin friend. When they reached the fortress gate, they found it closed.
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| − |
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| − | “No one is allowed in or out without doing obedience to the rightful king,” said the gate guard.
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| − |
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| − | “Which king is the righteous one?” whispered Fuglin.
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| − |
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| − | === (June 2016) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>,.~~,~.g,,@,.~,.</pre>
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| − |
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| − | “Prince Phlega is the new king,” whispered the goblin.
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| − |
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| − | “All hail King Phlega!” shouted Robinor.
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| − |
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| − | Once they were outside the gate, things became strange. There was a reddish mist all around, and the trees were dark and foreboding. It was said that the land and the king were one. If so, this Phlega could be counted among the most wicked to ever sit on the throne. Robinor remembered the stories of how the prince used to torture his servants as if they were the animals he constantly abused. Now his evil had begun to pollute the natural world.
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| − |
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| − | “We have to stop this,” said Robinor.
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| − |
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| − | “I have saved your life twice now,” said the goblin. “Where is your sense of loyalty?”
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| − |
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| − | “The sky itself is bleeding,” cried Robinor. “How bad are things going to get before you are satisfied?”
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| − |
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| − | === (July 2016) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>@|@++@@@@+</pre>
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| − |
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| − | “You and I serve the same master,” said the goblin. “It is K'ung, the outer darkness, the chaos without end that existed before light and life.”
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| − |
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| − | “It cannot be,” said Fuglin. “I renounce this evil!”
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| − |
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| − | A lighting bolt struck nearby and Fuglin was temporarily deafened. The goblin was trying to say something but Fuglin couldn't make it out. The red clouds above began to swirl. It seemed like the tales of old and the Nightmare Apocalypse. Nowhere was safe as the gods abandoned their sinful creation. Fuglin knew what he had to do. He trudged back toward the castle through a torrent of blood.
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| − |
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| − | “No more petitioners,” said the guard at the gate.
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| − |
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| − | “Can't you see?” asked Fuglin. “The world is about to end!”
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| − |
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| − | The dwarf looked like he had been rolling in filth. No one was sure where he had come from. The petitioners said he just walked out of the woods like that. The guard decided to turn him away, rather that having to deal with the smell while arresting him.
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| − |
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| − | “You are making a big mistake,” cried Fuglin.
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| − |
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| − | === (August 2016) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>~\@~~g~</pre>
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| − |
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| − | “You are cute,” said the goblin, “trying to save the world after all you have done to turn it out to the Master.”
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| − |
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| − | Standing in the puddle of blood rain, soaked with filth and gore, Fuglin didn't really have an answer for the goblin. All he knew was that he had to do something. The goblin looked so smug, standing there in his fancy cloak. He was probably pleased with his creation, the monster, Fuglin. The dwarf nearly forgot the femur that he held tightly in his fist. The goblin laughed, revealing a shining gold tooth. That was enough for Fuglin.
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| − |
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| − | “This has nothing to do with K'ung or the kingdom or anything!” shouted Fuglin. “You invented Robinor so you could get rich, and now you back King Phlega so you can be counted among the high and mighty!”
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| − |
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| − | “Fuglin,” said the goblin, “how many times have I saved your life over the years? You owe me.”
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| − |
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| − | “I'll show you what I owe you,” growled Fuglin.
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| − |
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| − | === (September 2016) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>~%~@~~U~</pre>
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| − |
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| − | It was over in an instant. Fuglin had only hit him once, but that was enough. The dwarf knelt down and tried to wake the goblin, but he wasn't breathing. It was the ultimate sin: to betray one's benefactor. Though, as many times as the goblin had got Fuglin out a jam, he had usually been the one responsible for the mess in the first place. Now he was dead. Fuglin had no idea what to do now. He looked into the broiling sky and its many open portals to K'ung. Maybe it was time to rejoin the endless chaos.
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| − |
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| − | “Robinor!” cried a woman's voice.
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| − |
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| − | “Yes?” asked Fuglin.
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| − |
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| − | The young lady didn't look too much better off than Fuglin, but these days no one did. She wore a man's tunic, covered in blood spatter. Fuglin dropped the broken bone when he saw her staring at it.
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| − |
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| − | “Did you kill him?” asked the woman.
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| − |
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| − | “He was a bad person,” explained Fuglin.
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| − |
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| − | “Of course,” said the woman. “My name is Rose. You should come with me.”
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| − |
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| − | === (October 2016) ===
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| − |
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| − | <pre>UUUUU.U.@[=]HH</pre>
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| − |
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| − | There was a carriage waiting on the highway just out of town. Fuglin followed the stranger, Rose, as she boarded the covered carriage. The poor dwarf was glad to be out of the gory rain. It seemed a shame to ruin the plush interior of the carriage, but Fuglin was far from complaining. He looked back out the window. The goblin's body was just around the corner. Fuglin thought he would probably be reincarnated as a slug for his crimes.
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| − |
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| − | “There are some friends down the road a ways,” said Rose. “They would be glad to met the famous poet, Robinor.”
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| − |
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| − | “And the murderous traitor, Fuglin,” said the dwarf, “would they be glad to see him?”
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| − |
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| − | “The time has come for you to make a choice,” said Rose. “Will you serve the light, or the darkness of K'ung?”
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| − |
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| − | There was a stone chapel up ahead. They were far enough from the capital that the powers of K'ung gave way to sunshine. Rose offered Fuglin a fresh robe and he changed while Rose walked up to the chapel door. He stood by the carriage as Rose returned with a crowd of surly looking fighters.
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| − |
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| − | “Tell us, oh Robinor,” said Rose. “How can this evil be undone?”
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