Excerpt from the Memoir of Ber Earthmeet - Page 210

“…so it was not long after putting down the anvil and leaving the armory that I moved to Ablelotam, more commonly know as Bustnoses, to be with Asen.

What a wretched place that was. Further west from the four other keeps of the realm and very nearly out of the comforting safety of the Fingers of Zeal’s peaks, Bustnoses was a backwater cesspool. Its location put it off of the major trade routes and the capital offered no military assistance in the way of keeping the peace. It was left to fend for itself. The fortress was filled to the brim with villains and unsavory types, and the rowdy chants of tavern patrons and the hooting and shouting of heavy drinkers echoed through the city each night. If the fortress had a pastime, it was brawling. Nearly every dwarf living in the city had a disfigured face, women included. It’s no wonder the fortress was called what it was.

Needless to say, I didn’t care for it. However, Asen had lived there his whole life, and the fishery he worked at had provided him with a comfortable life. He wasn’t about to move just because I disliked it. I loved him and knew my acceptance would mean a lot, so I decided to buckle down and started to look for openings at the local armories. As I had expected, the prejudice against women armorers was strong in the fortress. Although many just flat out told me no, others tried to give me "sage” advice that women are to be cooks and weavers. I enjoyed adding some more truth to the city’s name in those cases. Of course, that didn’t help my reputation among the armories and I soon ran out of options. Yes, I didn’t NEED to work, but I was not about to sit around the house all day. “Idle hands are Armoks workshop,” as my mother always used to say….“

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Letter to the Queen from Ber Earthmeet

15th Opal

Your worshipfulness,

I am Ber Earthmeet, a citizen of your great kingdom and servant to your throne. And I am now the leader of Bravedbolt.

Before you send an army to bring me to justice for treason and treachery, you must understand that I did not come into this position through those means. To put it simply, I am right for this job. I have the experience, the competence, and the tenacity to see this settlement flourish into something magnificent. And frankly, no one else in this fortress has the brains or judgement to do what I am going to.

To be brief: I am now the expedition leader. Communications shall be addressed to me, and liaisons you send shall expect to do dealings with me. Order must be maintained, and so I will be assigning a sheriff and hammerer to keep everyone in line and working hard. Of course the hammerer is mostly a ceremonial position.



The settlement is in good hands,

Ber Earthmeet - Expedition Leader of Bravedbolt

PS: If you intend to send us additional dwarves, some with a military background will be of great use. These are the wilds, and I fear we are extremely unprepared for what may be coming once the malicious-types of the world catch wind of our settlement.

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Official Notes of Ber Earthmeet, Expedition Leader of Bravedbolt

16th Opal

Finally. Finally we can have some order. Ever since I arrived here months ago, it has been painful watching the simple-minded Dastot and oblivious Bomrek attempt to effectively run this settlement. At first I was willing to put up with their general incompetence. They honored my request and made me a bow and training area. But when Dastot sent me out to hunt giant birds for one month….GIANT FUCKING BIRDS….ONE MONTH…..I’d about had it. And when I got wind that Bomrek was literally hunting voles in his office for the last few days, I HAD had enough. I strolled right into his office, forcibly threw him out the door, sat behind the desk, and began working. That kind of wastefulness with time is unacceptable, especially as a role model in a leadership position. It was in this Bravebolt’s best interests that I take over.

I also informed Dastot that she would retain her duties, at least for the time being. She seemed fairly happy to have a fellow female in a leadership position, so at least I have her support. Now to make good on my promise to the queen….who would make a good hammerer?

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23rd Opal

Bravebolt is more productive now than it ever has been. Besides the occasional breaks that Dastot insists are needed (I believe we could do without them, but I figured I would throw him a bone to keep him in good graces), all members of this fort have been laboring to make this fortress great.

A number of projects have been undertaken. Firstly, the large unused space dug out months ago has been filling with workshops. Some are not completed yet, as none of us here are really qualified enough to set up a workshop for dying clothes or producing soap, but I figure it doesn’t hurt to have spaces set aside for such constructions later.

Below the workshops, Kadol has been breaking through the soft limestone to make a storage area for the workshops above. It should make the production of goods efficient and timely. Wasting time is one of the greatest sins one can commit, and I am basing the design around eliminating it.

Finally, and most importantly, I am strengthening the upper entrance and hopefully can have a drawbridge fitted before winter comes. Already the lakes have begun to freeze, and it will only be a matter of time before the Yetis begin emerging from their caves. I have instructed the builders to work at twice the speed they have been. It must be completed in time. I have a feeling that something may be coming, and I want a thick wall between us and it when it does.

There is another project that I have also undertaken with Kadol’s help. At the moment it is strictly confidential, but once it is complete it will be a great boon to the fortress.

Meanwhile, Asen has been taking full advantage of the luxuries of my private office and bedroom. He’s been walking around with a stupid, blissful grin on his face all the time. With all of this activity, I sleep and eat at my desk usually, so at least someone is enjoying the extravagance.

I……I also had a dream last night. About what had happened so long ago out there in the wilds. I truly thought I had pushed it from my subconscious, but last night I was there, vividly engaged in….well everything that happened. I don’t know what to think.

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Excerpt from the Memoir of Ber Earthmeet - Page 370



"The reward had been set at 100 gold, an unfathomable sum of wealth that should have swayed any ranger to take on such a quest….but this was no ordinary bounty. Instead, it amounted to a suicide mission. Emene Crestmountain was not simply an evil creature of the wild, nor an abomination spawned from the troll pits of the dark fortress of Tailwicked far to the north. We weren’t even sure it truly existed, and deep within ourselves we sincerely hoped it didn’t. All we had to go off of were legends and folktales, some dating back to the beginning of our civilization, but each uncannily painted the same image of the beast.

It was allegedly a great creature, nearly 4 dwarves high and over 30 dwarves long if they were laid end to end. A thick armor of sorts extended around its exterior, and above this was coarse yellow fur. Some sources said it had eight legs, and some claimed it had 6, but all referenced the enormous claws extending out near the front of the body, and great insect-like mandibles around its mouth. Yet this was not the worst of it. It had a thick, segmented tail that apparently ended in a sharp, hooked point. Some tales told of its lightning quick movement, and many mentioned the lethal poison contained in the tail.

While researching the beast, I came across some tomes containing notes from a failed expedition to establish a colony to the northeast in a vast savannah only referenced as The Rumored Field. Apparently the author, one of the party had taken an interest in the creatures found there, which were far different from those found on the slopes of the mountains, the depths of the caves, or even in the snowy forests. The final entry in the tome was a hurried, scribbled description of some "small creature” with a “painful sting delivered by a hooked, posterior appendage.” It went on to name the creature as a “venomisidius scorpio, or scorpion.” The author concluded that he had been stung by the “scorpion,” but that once his headache and joint pain went away he would continue with his description. But as I said, there were no further entries.

Though I was far from well-versed when it came to the taxonomy and classification of creatures, the description this unnamed researcher had provided sounded very similar to the ancient writings detailing the dark beast prowling the mountains. Was this creature a great “scorpion” that perhaps sprung from a scorching place like The Rumored Fields? What caused it to grow so large? And why is it here among the cold, frigid peaks? According to the oldest legends, it had lurked in the crags and crannies of the Fingers of Zeal since before we began to produce tomes and writings.

This was an ancient power, unnatural and deadly. And we were going to hunt it.“

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Official Notes of Ber Earthmeet, Expedition Leader of Bravedbolt

16th Obsidian

Today Feb Roderoslan, our "chief medical dwarf” as he insists he be called, came running up to me babbling about the lack of good, hearty meat. I checked the ledgers and saw that we did indeed have quite a bit of meat, albeit only mule meat.

I was much too busy to hunt, but he had allegedly seen a pack of wild boar not a day ago and wanted to hunt one down. I asked if he had any experience hunting.

“Er….naw, but it ain’t be tha hard eh?” he responded with a ridiculous smile. What a lout. I gave my approval and sped him out of my office. If he manages to bring down anything, then my mother is a gorlak.

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18th Obsidian



Now Ushrir has joined in on the hunt. I guess there really is a pack of wild boars roaming our woods.

Such waste. Much needs to be accomplished and now two dingbat dwarves with little to no hunting experience are running around the woods firing off inaccurate bolts. Idiots.

-

-

-

Aw, who am I kidding. Now where did I leave my crossbow?

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1 Granite, 551

It has been a year since the Queen sent the original group out from Diamondlines to establish Bravebolt. Yes, we’ve had our share of failures, but now that there is good, strong leadership, the future can be nothing but bright. In celebration of our success under my leadership, Dastot has pulled a few strings in order to officially welcome me into the sect of the majority of the dwarves in the fortress - the Tangled Crafts.

This was a surprise to me. However, given my successes in this fortress, it was well-deserved.

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Excerpt from the Memoir of Ber Earthmeet - Page 410

It felt like we were chasing a ghost. Each time we moved to a new area to search for the great scorpion, we heard about its movements elsewhere in the mountains.

It was when we returned to Bustnoses in the early spring of 488, after a long hard winter of scouring the mountains for a sign of this monster, that we received news that the great scorpion had claimed a new victim. Inod Fortresscurls, a resident of Bustnoses and an architect, had been apparently ambushed and killed by the monster.

She had left Bustnoses years ago, seeking a mysterious something or someone, her parents told us. Most strange of all was the journal found near her disfigured and shriveled body. Within it, there was odd poetry and prose praising the “sting of the dark” and an expression of a desire to “glorify him through my suffering.”

Needless to say, it made us even more wary of this creature we were hunting. Rith and Tholtig both questioned the prudence of continuing to seek out this monstrosity. I reminded them of the veritable fortune to be made if we brought it down, and they quieted up. All three of us had a severe case of gold fever. We would bring down that beast or die trying.

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Official Notes of Ber Earthmeet, Expedition Leader of Bravedbolt

16th Granite

After weeks of chasing the boars all over the forest and managing to only hit grazing shots, Ushrir - the woodcutter of all people - managed to bring down one of the beasts. As expedition leader, I think it would only be natural that I get first pickings on the roast. I’d better inform Sarvesh, our mediocre cook, to set aside some for me before the rest of the fortress descends on it.

19th Granite

It’s practically an invasion, I do declare! Our fortress is infested, and I fear there is nothing I can do about it. It’s hopeless. I’d better relate what happened.

Not three days ago it was reported to me that two elves had been seen wandering near our fort. I could scarcely believe it - by what means had the tree-huggers found our small outpost? The nearest elven civilization was leagues to the north within the Mire of Dents, a great swamp that for some reason the brainless pointed-ears had decided to reside in.

This morning, they show up in front of our fort and without so much much as a word of greeting make their way through our fortification, down our ramps, and make a beeline for the “trade depot” area that was set up for when dwarven traders from the mountain homes stopped by. They then proceed to begin unloading all manner of junk onto our depot, defiling it in the process. What were they thinking? I quickly spread the word that nobody was to talk to them, and that we were to pretend that they weren’t even there. It gets worse though.

Among the entirely useless wooden weapons and figurines of weak and impotent elvish gods that they strew across our depot, they also pulled out brightly colored tropical delicacies. Fruits that many of us had only seen at courtly banquets and in the dining rooms of the fabulously rich. They set these out prominently, tempting us with the promise of respite from the cold winter grip within those juicy, warmly-bred orbs.

I immediately put the kibosh on it before any trouble started, declaring that if anyone was to do business with these foul tempters that they would find themselves shipped back to Diamondlines in chains. Nobody is going to interact with those stupid plant-smoochers. Not on my watch. Unfortunately, due to a long history of wars, alliances, pacts, and treaties, I am not able to forcibly evict these “merchants.” All I can do is hope that they tire of wasting time here and crawl back from whence they came.

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2 Slate, 551

I am stepping down from my position as expedition leader. Despite my ability and undeniable knack to lead, there is a….conflict of interest. There are many allegiances an individual must uphold - political, social…..religious, and some are more important than others. When there is conflict between two - you must elevate one and shed the other. This will be my last entry. To whoever follows me and takes up my mantle, I have left the plans for my personal project. See it to completion, for I believe it will serve to protect this fort from enemies…not above, but below.

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Excerpt from the Memoir of Ber Earthmeet - Page 480

My companions and I finally got a good lead. A sheepherder who had lived in the hills around Bustnoses all his life had taken us in for a hot meal one late spring evening. He was curious as to why we were so well armed yet didn’t look like military men. We didn’t generally tell people what we were doing, but Rith had drank a little too much and blabbed out about our quest before we could shut him up. When he described the great beast we were hunting, the sheepherder’s eyes widened. He related to us a tale that his grandfather had told him many times.

One summer day, his grandfather had been herding his sheep up the mountain to the lush slopes on the east side when he came upon a massive crevice in the mountain. It was nearly 30 dwarves high and a third of that in girth. Curious as to what was in it, he poked his head in. He wished he hadn’t. Strewn across the ground were the mangled, decapitated, and half eaten bodies of dwarves, elves, and even humans. And in the corner, curled up in an armored ball, lay a great beast - apparently resting. His grandfather backed out of that cave as quietly as he could, and ran all the way back to Bustnoses as if the beast was chasing him. Of course, nobody believed his tale, but he swore to his grandson that what he had seen was real. He even imparted the location to his grandson, but the sheepherder said he had never bothered with it since he didn’t really believe it either.

I looked at Rith and Tholtig, and could see it in their eyes. This must be it. The sheepherder drew us a quick map on how to reach this supposed “lair,” and then we were off. It only took us hours to reach the crevice - and we knew right away that this was the right place.

There were great footprints in the fresh snow, hooked and warped. They led directly into the crevice. We steeled ourselves, and stepped in.

As we entered the cave, I felt a cold feeling pass over me. It was stranger than anything I had experienced. My mind was calm, undisturbed and at peace. I looked at the others, and they too seemed to be pondering the same strange feeling. We rounded a corner, and found ourselves face to face with the monstrosity.

It was just as we had heard. Every legend about it seemed to do little justice, for it was immense beyond scale. It filled the whole chamber, a great armored, fidgeting mass. Two huge claws flanked its swollen body, and a great stinger, dripping with a vile-looking substance, rose above nearly to the ceiling. But strangest of all were its eyes. They were small, black, and had a sinister intelligence to them that spoke to the age of the creature. Yet, despite the imposing physical characteristics of the beast, I did not feel any fear. I felt something else - a connection perhaps?

Suddenly, I heard a voice speaking from deep within my mind. It was not my voice - soon I realized it was the creature in front of me penetrating my thoughts somehow. “You sought me out. I have existed for millennia, witnessed battles of the gods, seen mountains crumble into dust. Yet this did not deter you. You still sought me out. Because of this, I will spare you. You will join the ranks of those that have sought me. You will be my disciple.”

I felt a shock run through me, and in a flash I saw the grandeur of that which stood before me. The invincibility of it, the absolute perfectness of its form. I stood there, marveling in the beauty of my new master, feeling a love for it that surpassed adoration or even worship. And then I blacked out.

When I came to, I was lying outside of the crevice. Lying nearby were Rith and Tholtig, both with content smiles on their faces. They too had received the blessing of Emene Crestmountain. We all rose, and wordlessly traveled back down the hill to Bustnoses. The morning air had never seemed fresher, nor the sun’s rays brighter. We had gazed upon the face of god….and lived.

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Excerpt from the Memoir of Ber Earthmeet - Page 850

Not a year into my leadership of Bravedbolt, I had a dream. This one was even worse. There was hell-fire burning all around me, and the eyes of the great Emene seemed to pierce right through me. I saw him raise his great stinger, and smash it through the heart of Bravedbolt. I knew then, that leading this fortress was not my destiny. No, Emene had other, greater plans for me. When I awoke, it was an easy decision. I submitted my resignation immediately.