Editing Dead or Alive

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{{TErow| 1 | AI - resource control| freq=1|loc={{purple}} (AI)|effect=-50 {{Wood}} [[Wood]], -50 {{Ore}} [[Ore]], -50 {{Mercury}} [[Mercury]], -50 {{Sulfur}} [[Sulfur]], +100 {{Crystal}} [[Crystal]], +100 {{Gem}} [[Gems]]}}

{{TErow| 1 | Part I - Dargem| Like many such places founded by desperate people willing to do anything to turn their lives around, Burton had its darker moments. One was trade with pirates—not Regnans, but outcasts shunned even by this lawless empire. They were sold ship fittings, gun barrels, cannonballs, and other supplies for their unsavory trade. The payment was made in certain rare substances, their origins never inquired about. That lasted for a short time and only was done out of desperation, but there was no getting away from that piece of history.<p>As soon as things got better and legal sources for covering provisions and other necessities sprang up, the dealings with pirates came to naught. Chagrin wasn’t nearly strong enough a word to describe the sea rovers’ reaction to this development; they absolutely blew their tops.<p>“Maybe we're keen on becoming honest traders, too! But nay, cor blimey, turns out our mugs aren’t nice enough for that!”, one band’s ringleader, a particularly disagreeable character named Dargem, was seething. “Alrighty, just you wait," he growled. "Time to show these landlubbers that disrespecting business partners carries a price.”<p>Dargem was as good as his word; several pirate bands had conspired to cut off all of Burton's trade routes and began to plunder the supply wagons. The situation was becoming critical.</p>}}

{{TErow| 1 | Part II - Boyd| An emergency meeting was called to find a way out. There, I heard many stories from the townsfolk about the atrocities committed by Dargem and his cronies. Some were positively chilling, despite the scorching Jadamean sun! There was a tale, however, that really piqued my interest; one about a certain Boyd, whom Dargem had allegedly put to an extremely cruel end, even by pirate standards. There were several versions, but they all agreed that a young fellow named Boyd, an adventurer and maverick, had once joined the crew of a brig that flew the jolly Roger, yearning for new thrills to add to his collection. A natural at telling hilarious stories and singing lewd songs, he quickly became the life and soul of the crew—except the brig's captain, Dargem, didn’t like that very much. Himself still quite young for a pirate top dog, he had thus far only mastered one way to keep his crew in line—through fear and threats, that is. He knew air magic, so his threats were not empty; no one wanted to anger him and suddenly die of asphyxiation or, conversely, of ruptured lungs. However, he was also capable of making his ship run faster, using magical whirlwinds to inflate the sails, and of blocking arrows and cannonballs with his air shield. Thanks to that, his men rarely were without rich booty, so there never was a shortage of candidates eager to replenish his crew.<p>One of them was Boyd, who had so carelessly impinged on the cruel captain’s authority. Was it plain jealousy or something else, Boyd was doomed. There were many theories as to what had eventually caused the conflict, but an old innkeeper, who had once had the displeasure of having to treat the grim brig’s crew to a feast on the house, overheard a story. According to it, a hapless pirate was made to dance the hempen jig in the blazing sun, but not before making sure the noose would not suffocate him right away. Ensuring that was a small challenge for a skilled mage. So he hung there, feeding the seagulls, and when the brig called at Jadame's shores, Dargem traded his bones to some grim-looking gangrel for a hat feather. It is not known what the latter did to them, but since then, rumors have spread of travelers encountering the skeleton of an undead pirate shouting Dargem's name in the night. Some eyewitnesses even added that the skeleton brandished a cutlass, arcane flames burst out of his eyes, and the earth he rode on moaned and swelled. Fear takes molehills for mountains, I thought; but maybe I should try and seek out this undead avenger. As they say, the enemy of my enemy is my... no, not my friend. I'm not keen on being friends with no dead men! Let's say... an ally.</p>}}

{{TErow| 2 | New Inventors| New times were upon Burton. With the ogre problem solved, along with the issue of securing steady shipments of local products to the market in the port of Orca’s Maw, the prospect of food shortages had receded. The townspeople were now able to make plans for more than just another day's work. Frederick and Sam kept making trips to the port to meet other associates of theirs whom they had persuaded to move to Burton. Some arrived carrying nothing more than a couple of books and a toolbox; others brought whole shiploads of alchemical equipment, rare reagents, and instruments. A dwarf named Bertram made the biggest noise; rumor had it that the dozens of barrels unloaded from his caravel were brimming with gold. True or not, but soon after his arrival, the town saw a rush of immigrants from all sorts of places, each one getting a job with good pay. New residential neighborhoods sprang up; production was getting transferred from the home forges to the new factory building, its tall vaults made of steel trusses and beams.}}

{{TErow| 3 | Eeofol| As immigrants arrived, the first news of the demon invasion reached our distant lands. Eeofol has been destroyed. Ravaged. Not one blooming garden left, not one clear lake. Only endless ridges of new mountains, spewing flames and stinking smoke, with hordes of ruthless demons hiding behind it. I had seen the possessed Xarfax and the soldiers of his garrison with my own eyes—a horrible and disgusting sight; but it seemed that the devils were ultimately unable to subdue the minds of the other Erathians. Maybe they had learned to defend themselves, or maybe the demons were simply not as strong as we thought after our first skirmishes with them; whatever the reason, the celestial guests were unable to leap the borders of Eeofol. Even the Fire Coast remained under Erathia's control, though the awakening volcanoes gave it trouble. Talking to those who brought the news, I voiced my rejoicing at the trouble having not claimed thousands of lives in Erathia and AvLee, contrary to our dire predictions born of ignorance—but my heart cried out in pain. It only wondered about one thing: why Eeofol and not Erathia?}}

{{TErow| 3 | Sentinel Automatons| I was no longer helping Frederick in his workshop, as I had my own thing to do now. I didn't even notice how it happened, but at some point everyone began to refer to me as Burton's scoutmaster. Still, I maintained interest in my old friend's progress and knew that he had designed and built an improved steam engine. It was too big and heavy to be mounted on an airship, but perfect for a factory powerplant; it helped multiply the torque on the metalworking machines’ shafts. Now the factory was building itself: improved machines helped create new structural elements, and the facilities kept growing and expanding.<p>Frederick was now fully devoted to the energy sector, and had no time to pursue his other old projects. Many of those, however, saw development in the hands of newly arrived artificers. One, a somewhat odd-looking gray-haired man named Todd, took it upon himself to put automatons into mass production. He spent a good month locked up in a hangar with the prototypes Frederick had brought from Eeofol, a few assistants, a variety of tools, and a huge basket of armadillo jerky. When he finally emerged from this voluntary confinement, he looked as if he had never slept a wink in a month—but he was glowing with joy. Beside him, two fully assembled models presented their gleaming, polished sides, and he leaned proudly with his elbow on a pile of blueprints and flow charts. It’s funny to remember how at that moment, my takeaway started and ended with the fact that the pile of papers was noticeably taller than I was—even if I'd stood on my tiptoes.<p>I had, of course, already seen the automatons preparing our airships, but the other residents of Burton were very impressed when they were put on display in the square. Imagine a metal contraption on six mechanical legs, almost the size of a full-grown armadillo, looking like a mix of a crab, a common sight on the shores of the Ravage Roaming, with a carnivorous spider from the Murmurwoods. There was a gurgling sound coming from within the mechanism, and thin jets of vapor escaped from the numerous valves; its steel frame trembled and its joints creaked slightly. The automaton seemed as hot as a water boiler—although it was, in fact, very much a boiler itself; the powerful grip protruding from a sort of head had a very menacing appearance, and the Burton youths, eager to impress their girls, kept running up and putting their hands into the metal spidercrab’s jaws. Little did they know that its superheated steam-based powerplant in itself posed much more danger to others than any kind of jaws or extremities... Frederick told me in confidence that Todd hadn’t been able to fully solve its little reliability problem—he only limited the machine’s standard power, but kept the option of switching to the supercritical mode. It was, however, impossible to turn off once engaged. Naturally, the assembly responsible for this feature was taken off the model on display, but I still preferred to keep my distance.</p>}}

{{TErow| 5 | Gunslingers| Burton now smelled of money, and that smell always attracts those who want to appropriate it, as well as those who are willing, for a fee, to discourage the former. Interestingly enough, the majority of both were of the same pedigree: pirates, that is. Not all of those who used to have dealings with the Burton craftsmen succumbed to Dargem's entreaties to come and take what they needed by force. The more staid ones saw the benefit of going into the rapidly growing town’s service. Furthermore, they were promised the most advanced and powerful weapons crafted in Burton's workshops, and that, of course, was a very good incentive.<p>The townspeople looked askance at those morose men; the mercenaries, equally effective on land and sea, were mostly employed as bounty hunters. Their arms of choice were arquebuses of enormous caliber and very complicated design. One look was enough to see how much care the gunslingers had for the tools of their trade; their brass and steel parts were buffed to a shine and glistened in the sun like jewelry, and hardwood stocks were polished and varnished. Their cloaks bulged suspiciously at the waist; hiding underneath were not crude pistols like those used by pirates, but things just as sophisticated and expensive as their arquebuses. Rumor had it that those mysterious weapons had already made countless Dargem's henchmen take dirt naps; a well-trained and disciplined gunslinger always ended up being faster than an ever-drunken pirate and his smooth-bore pocket artillery, however proud a sea dog the latter was.</p>}}

{{TErow| 7 | Nemerthea| An old fisherman came to Burton; he lived on the shore near the place where the pirates used to call at for trade. They’d leave him messages, offering dates for the next exchanges. He said that he had spied familiar black sails on the horizon several times, more and more often in recent days.<p>“The blue broad is summoning her girls. And I tell ya, they'll come in force—they all have a husband in every port. Suppose they gather them all, even you’ll be in big trouble, and I'll just get eaten, bones and all. Faces of angels they got, but teeth of sharks…”</p>}}

{{TErow| 14 | Melchior interrogates pirates| If there is scouting, then there must also be someone to handle the scouts working for the adversary. There was now such a man in Burton, Melchior by name. Sweet-talking and courteous, he could make anyone feel at ease, inducing them to share even what they did not know about themselves. And now he had busted a pirate spy. The interview procedure for those seeking employment as gunslingers, long and confusing for an uninformed onlooker, once again proved to be effective: the candidate broke down over an unexpected question about the best way to spend a large paycheck that came completely against the conversation’s flow. At the interrogation, this swaggering, insolent character first laughed spewed threats, claiming to fear neither beatings nor death, and that he would certainly be avenged... However, just a minute spent in the company of the automaton that carefully held certain parts of the prisoner's body in its maw were enough; the latter suddenly developed extraordinary eloquence.<p>Excerpts from the interrogation report:<p>...lured several enchanters to his side, promising each one a Spellbinder’s Hat... fooled the old dolts, of course, but now they seem to have no choice...<p>...Dargem laughs at your firecrackers and bullets. He's sure he'll squash you like roaches. What's more, he has several strongholds where his retainers are nested...<p>…You can't get Dargem. Unless, of course, you can walk on water…</p>}}

{{TErow| 22 | Portal warning (141)| The scouts brought troubling news. There were several ancient portals in the vicinity of Burton, but everyone considered them long forgotten and their power gone. No one expected them to come back to life anymore, and they were not considered a possible source of threat—but now it seemed as though someone was trying to reactivate them: the air in the portals churned, lights blinking in it....}}

{{TErow| 30 | Steadwick's Fall| Today, refugees from faraway Antagarich arrived in Burton. No, not migrants, but refugees! They brought news that made me feel sick and ashamed, as if it were my thoughts that had invited this trouble. Far across the ocean, war had broken out: the Dungeon Overlords of Nighon had joined forces with the demons! It was hard to believe that the celestial guests had found allies so quickly, but facts were facts. Erathia was still reeling from the recent mysterious death of King Gryphonheart, and rumor had it that its capital, Steadwick, had already fallen to the joint forces of devils and overlords.}}

{{TErow| 37 | Dargem's Fortress| The pirate spy’s loose tongue gave a tip that Dargem's main fortress might be on an island. Indeed it was, but the island was surrounded by impregnable cliffs, and the waves were crashing against them with terrible force. The closest we could get for surveillance was at least a mile from the shoreline. If only a way could be found to lure Dargem out of his compound! Could there be any means of communication between the pirate fortresses?}}

{{TErow| 90 | News about Catherine| Today we met a merchant captain from Erathia. The war continues, but it seems that there is still hope! Queen Catherine is gathering troops to retake the capital, and she has already chased off several armies of demons and Nighon Overlords! Moreover, according to rumors shared by the same trader, AvLee and Bracada intended to offer assistance to Erathia in its struggle with the demons.}}

{{TErow| 150 | Steadwick's Liberation| A merchant from Antagarich brought good news: Steadwick had been liberated! Demons and subterranean creatures are being chased all over Erathia, and allegedly the land will soon be free of them.  

The trader also shared some bits and pieces of information about the conflict with Tatalia and Krewlod, and the backing that Gavin Magnus's troops had provided to Erathia there, but I wasn't listening to him anymore...<p>I no longer thought of the Kreegans as invincible. I still woke up screaming at night when I saw the celestial invaders’ ugly countenances in my dreams, but if humans and elves were able to fight them, maybe we too could get even with them someday. It was, however, neither the time nor the place to think seriously about it. Burton's needs demanded the full extent of my energy.</p>}}