Intermezzo

Sirocco wrote :-

Markus slouched into his bedroom and collapsed into the sheets, the night's rum still dripping off his beard. Just as he was beginning to fall asleep, he heard his door creak open and a large... thing rolled into the room, pushed by his old friend Leperfish.

Markus looked at the object. It was some sort of tall oblong box on wheels and when Leperfish opened the lid at the front, it revealed a long line of black and white rectangular buttons. He wasn't sure what it was but it certainly didn't look very Traditional. But before Markus could ask what Leperfish was doing here, with this odd wooden box, Leperfish did a very strange thing.

He began to sing.


(Click here for lyrics, tablatures and other versions of the song.)

Markus woke up in a cold sweat, his eyes wide and staring. The room was empty. Still trembling slightly, he wobbled out the door. Markus had never needed a drink quite so badly.

DarkHorse wrote :-

After many days and nights crossing this desolate wasteland, I had finally arrived. The moon setting on the spooky, haunted swamp gave a perfect atmospheric end to my long journey, the dawn breaking over Gemclod and the last outpost of our last hope.

Gnarled trees and cut-down stumps dotted the swamp, and the murky brook babbled sinisterly over the rocks and mud.


Eager to get a good view of the fort, I hurriedly climbed the corner keeps and mounted the ramparts, watching as the sun's rays lit the inner courtyard. I could see the central ramp descending down to the lit depot, where caravans could unload their wares in safety. It was clear the Overseers had prepared prudently, ordering things for protection and safety and the provision of their citizens.


I walked along the outer walls, noting the workshops that were surely used in constructing, supplying, or defending this outpost. There were few leaders these days, and even fewer capable ones, but what I saw spoke of Order and of Tradition, of holding fast to the old ways and not succumbing to the whims of other creatures.


I hurried down, through the doorways at the bottom of the pit, and beheld a spectacle I had not expected in this desolate swamp.


Rows of tables and chairs lined up in the center of a massive cavern of well-dressed stone, lit by the light of torches and lanterns...


An incredible dining room, as out of the days of yore, stretching into the distance! Thick, ponderous columns held up the far-off ceiling, the floors smoothed and polished and engraved with the histories of our kind and the travails of Gemclod. I climbed the nearest stairwell on the left to get a better view.


Surely such wonders were a thing of the past, something our worthy ancestors were capable of, before the deprivations of the Arrogant Ones, but today? I walked around the perimeter admiring the view, passing well-carved statues and plinths. It could not be true, and yet here I saw more than what I had hoped for, but what I had desperately dreamed for!


The Overseers had stocked the fortress well, and made the "outpost" impervious to sieges. Underground farms grew plump helmets and pig tails and cave wheat, a veritable bounty.


The farms were well-irrigated and quite productive. I saw some crops ready for harvest, some planted for future growth, and still more fields tilled and ready for planting.


They also had time for leisure, as I discovered a gigantic chess or checkers board at the head of the dining hall.


A pair of chairs and a table set for the game mimicked the layout of the room.


But I could sense not all was well in Gemclod. After a full day beholding the glories of this fortress, I decided to explore the courtyard, finally safe from the horrors of the night. As I left, I noticed that the doors to the hall were trapped. I had not noticed them in my earlier haste.


Perturbed, I ascended the main rampway and watched the stars spin by above me. "Why would they need traps past the main gates?" I wondered, "are their fortifications not enough?" In this frame of mind, I looked back at the entrance and saw the faint twinkling of the trade depot...


and the brave way the gatehouse lit up its presence to the outlying swamp, welcoming friends and taunting enemies with the drawbridge...

the moon, rising over the fortifications that defended us from our foes...



and I knew fear, for this wasn't the beacon around which our civilization would rally! It was a flame, a guttering candle that would attract our people and allow the Greenskins, the Tree-Lovers, the Humans, and their master the hated Arrogant Ones to exterminate us all, once and for all!

We are alone, and we are diminishing, trapped in this ghastly swampy hole in the mud. Kudust protect us.