User:Cypress

Cypress "Paperscratcher" Lyshra

Cypress Lyshra has been ecstatic lately. He was satisfied with work lately. He spoke with a friend lately. He admired own fine laptop lately. He was pleased to have a mandate deadline met lately. He had a satisfying sparring session lately. He slept in a good quality bedroom recently. He had a wonderful meal lately.

He is agnostic.

He is the Philosopher of The Grand Library. He is the Bookkeeper of The Grand Library.

Cypress Lyshra likes Copper, Iron, Silicon, Quartz, Sand, the color Grey, MST3K, and Machine Elves for their confusing ways. He enjoys glassworking, and Book keeping. When possible, he prefers to consume Stew.

He is often cheerful. He finds rules confining. He is eager to try new things. He is bored by reality and has a wonderful imagination. He is entranced by riddles and puzzles, and loves to debate issues and ideas. He is given to procrastination. He rarely does more work than necessary. He needs caffine to get though the working day. He does not mind being outdoors.

Cypress's Library

Cypress writes often, and also collects many stories from others, publishing them in large novels. Sadly, the library is fairly empty right now, but a few novels occasionally appear in the shelves.

Tales from the Labyrinthine Hatchets

The Labyrinthine Hatchets welcome you! We are a group of dwarves that maintain the small settlement of Astninur, on the foot hills of the Fiery Spire, and on the banks of the Running Stream. Collected below are a series of stories straight from the gates of Astninur.

Journal of Ms. Urdim 'Whippeaks' Bomrekilrom

Opening entry, 8th Sandstone, 208, Year Eight, Dwarf Count Eight

The traders brought my journal today! It was a year ago that I asked them to bring me this small, leather bound book (They forgot the calender though, those bastards). It's been a long year, full of digging and...well, more digging. We set up our defensive towers, and made a glass ceiling over our dining hall. Our farming and brewing system are finally set up, and all of our horses have been caged to prevent a horseplosion.

Ach, they just hit a vein of gold, and they need me there! I'll be right back.

-Urdim

10th Timber, 208, Year eight, Dwarf Count Eight

The vein has been completely mined out, now our farmers, Kulet and Sodel are hauling the gold to the stockpiles. The work was aided by my dearest Likot, who is shaping up to be a legendary miner just like me.

We broke ground on two new towers today, built out of the sides of the mountain. They're being built entirely from the inside out, so the front gate can remain closed while the construction takes place. Hopefully we'll be done in less than a year, and we'll be able to repel those darn goblins that keep interfering with trade.

None of us are really any good with a cross bow, but we have good quality materials, and we're not fighting fair. Goblin's shouldn't stand a chance.

As always, our count stands at eight dwarves, although Minkot is considering sending an invitation to a few of her aquaintances, and I'm inclined to allow it. Although, they would probably end up being assigned to military duties, since the eight of us here already have out work set out for us making sure the fort runs as it should.

-Urdim

10th Moonstone, 208, Year eight, Dwarf Count eight

Well, it either is a drought or it's a flood. This time last year we were running dangerously low on spirits, thanks to our plump helmet harvest being cooked instead of brewed. But this year, we have untold gallons of the stuff. My only complaint is that it's taking up all of our barrels, so we can't use them for anything else. Maybe it's time to start making gold barrels.

The merchants came and left today without any trouble, and all seems to be going well. The towers are soaring into the sky, able to cover all of the east face of the mountain, and the entryway has been fully equipped with glass spike traps. Everything is looking up.

-Urdim

Miscellania

The Ghost Cave

Taken from the diary of Kogsak Olinostar, dwarven trader

There is a place we visit every fall, as the trees begin to drop their leaves. It isn't a fortress, hasn't been for some time...it's more of a cave. It's built into the side of a mountain, right next to a stream. It's the most beautiful place, almost no sign that dwarfish hands had touched the land. No roads, no tree stumps, no dead animals. Then there is the cave itself. It's a small place, just barely big enough for the old trading post that rests within it. The floor is smoothed, and engraved with strange, unsettling images. They seem to move when you watch them, and it makes me uncomfortable to stare at the wall for too long. Walls shouldn't be able to stare back.

This year, as we walked into the cave, Urdim popped out, happy as always. That poor woman is the last inhabitant of the fortress of Astninur, and this cave all that she has. The trading post is the second floor of a two story cave that she calls home...I've only had cause to go below once, when I helped her carry down a barrel of Plump Helmets...I daresay I shall never want to go down there again. Her bed is placed near the door, and then, right behind that lies six coffins, carefully made and sealed shut. Below that is a flooded staircase...it had been one mistake that flooded the whole fortress, she'd explained. It's a terrible story...and yet she seems unaccountably cheerful.

But we do not visit this place every year just to check in on the poor young woman, for she produces incredible pieces of work, ruby encrusted mechanism and masterfully sculpted crowns, made from the very stone of the mountain, yet more beautiful than any metal crown. It is an incredible that she produces it all in her little cave...and so very sad that this work is all that she has to remember her comrades, one her husband, by. Every night, she locks the door to the lower chambers, and we hear the last mark of her madness...voices. A myriad of voices rises from the unnatural floors, filling our sleeping ears with their laughter, and the beating of hammers, and the chink of picks hitting stone. But come day break, it all fades away, and Urdim pops out, smiling, her madness sustaining her for one more day.

When we leave, she sees us off, then vanishes into her cave, closing the door behind her. We've caught many goblins stalking the area, and none of them know of the fortress in the area. None of them even knew that dwarves traveled through here...and our swords ensure that no one will know.

She is indeed a strange one, her madness singularly healing...and yet, sometimes I wonder...for sometimes, the voices sound so real, so convincing...I almost want to share her delusion...that her world is just fine. But I always leave the poor girl behind, to live with her ghosts.