Legend of Grimrock: Destiny's Chance.

[Dungeoneer]

Really enjoying this. Keep up the good work

[Sir Tawmis]

Wow good stuff, you are writing a whole book here!
Daniel.

Thank you! I am enjoying coming up with little bits of lore and such for the various things in Grimrock... My mind wants to know more about Grimrock, so it's just creating it...

Really enjoying this. Keep up the good work

Thanks! And even more flattering that your first post on the forum was to say that!

[Sir Tawmis]

A moment’s rest.

Something we all needed, and finally got. We had just killed off something else this cursed mountain or its makers had shaped with magic – something Blaz’tik called “Crowern.”

We made a fire and, despite how they looked, used our weapons to cook the flesh of these creatures.

“So what are these things?” I asked the insectoid.

“They’re a Mage’s attempt –tic!- at creating the ultimate currier –tic!- bird,” Blaz’tik said as he gnawed on a raw crowern remain. “Mages mutated and created –tic!- the Crowern so that it could –tic!- fly great distances, and defend itself, should it –tic!- come under attack from those who try to stop –tic!- the message from being delivered.”

Blaz’tik regurgitated some of the meat then swallowed again. I felt myself get nauseous even as I continued to try and cook my dead crowern over the small fire. “More than –tic!- likely,” he continued as he gnawed on the raw meat, “the mages of Grimrock –tic!- used the messenger birds… now, it’s been so long that they haven’t –tic!- used them, the messenger birds continued to return to Grimrock, and breed among themselves –tic!- until they were flying all over the dungeon, feeding on snails and –tic!- anything else they came across.”

“So,” Silvertan’s slithering voice said, as he paced back and forth, keeping an eye down the hall. “You two,” he gestured to Taren and I, “seem very close. What’s your story?”

I felt my muscles tense. Silvertan had made several references to my parents since we were thrown in here; but did not directly say anything. I saw Taren looking at me, as I nodded. “Blood Oath,” I said.

“So you saved the minotaur’s life?” Silvertan asked, knowing that’s how Blood Oath’s worked in the Minotaur society.

“Mutual,” I said. “We saved each other’s life. I released Taren from the Blood Oath. But he has told me that it’s not been properly repaid.”

“I was falsely accused of a crime in my city within Namaer,” Taren explained.

“May I ask what crime?” Silvertan asked, his serpent like eyes focusing on Taren.

“Murder,” Taren said matter-of-factly. This seemed to halt Silvertan’s pacing. He looked at Tawmis. “He,” Taren explained, gesturing at me, “had been a slave in Namaer, working in the kitchen cleaning. He saw them prepping my final meal before my combat in the Arena.”

Taren explained that Minotaurs charged with murder, were brought into the Arena of Justice, to fight legions of soldiers that poured into the Arena, wave after wave – usually until the Minotaur accused of murder was killed, or until the crowd began cheering for the Minotaur. Those who survived the Arena were pardoned, but not found innocent and thus exiled from Namaer.

“When he saw them poisoning my final meal before the Arena, he made his way to the edge of the Arena, and jumped in, using the chains around his ankles and wrists, to help me in the Arena,” Taren explained. “This action turned the crowd in my favor, and they began cheering for me. As always, the Emperor, fearful that those within the Arena might gain more popularity than himself; and that killing them would turn the crowds against him – he raised his hand and pardoned my murder, exiling both Tawmis and I from Namaer.”

“So what is the son of Contar Stoneskull and Yennica Whitefeather doing as a slave in Namaer?” Silvertan asked, his slithering tongue flicking in and out, as if he could not wait to taste the answer on his scaled lips.

“Wait, -tic!-“ Blaz’tik suddenly exclaimed. “You’re the –tic!- son of Contar and Yennica?”

I sighed.

“I am,” I said, quietly.

“They’re the only ones said to –tic!- ever have escaped Grimrock over –tic!- twenty years ago!” Blaz’tik said excitedly, still gnawing on the raw crowern. “You must know –tic!- of the Orb of Zhandul? The one that –tic!- Sancsaron sought?”

There it was. The one thing the Mages had kidnapped me for. To pick my brain.

“I don’t know about the Orb,” I said, my voice edged with annoyance. “The Mages of Des … kidnapped me when I was only thirteen years old. And used magic to pick my brain apart, layer by layer, to see if my parents had ever mentioned it – and if I knew the Orb’s location buried in my subconscious. When they couldn’t find the answer, they knew they couldn’t just put me back after there had been such a wide search for me. They sold me into slavery in Namaer for some trivial spell components.” I turned to Silvertan, “So yes, I am the son of Contar and Yennica. And that is how I ended up a slave in Namaer.”

I could see it in Silvertan’s serpent like eyes. The answer was not what he had hoped. He had thought that I was a spoiled boy, who grew up in riches.

“They still seek you out,” Silvertan said. “Your parents.”

“I never went back,” I answered. “Between what the Mages did to me… to my mind… and then a life of slavery… Their son is dead.”

I knew why Blaz’tik asked about the Orb. According to the rumor, my parents found the Orb in Grimrock, and having determined it was too powerful for any mortal to possess – did away with the weapon. But the Mages speculate that such a weapon can not be destroyed; and that it must be hidden somewhere.

[Sir Tawmis]

In the event you don't recognize a few names mentioned - look no further than the "Meet The Prisoners!" - Grimrock Blog!

[Sir Tawmis]

I stared at the runes with a raised eye brow.

There was a locked door, and despite Taren Bloodhorn’s best efforts, he could not shatter it. That mean the door was guarded by magic. Which, of course, would explain the magic runes next to the door. “I can’t tell what the Flerigan that says.”

Blaz’tik stepped forward, “Allow me.” He crumbled up some of the mushrooms in his hand, and began chanting, “Herd ben has wot, sey thay dew wot, werds the me sho, wey the me sho!”

Blaz’tik then took the mushrooms that were now glowing a faint blue, and rubbed them across the runes. And slowly the very runes themselves glowed a gentle green color and revealed the words, “A Lone Pillar Of Light Stands Alone In The Night.”

“Wonderful,” I sighed. “A riddle. The Mages who made Grimrock didn’t think using their magic to animate the dead, and twist living things into new creatures was enough…”

“This is not just a riddle,” Blaz’tik answered. “This comes from an old story.” Blaz’tik stopped to think about it. “The Three Gods. When they first discovered our world – the Three Gods – The Trinity – battled for who would rule over the World.”

“I am familiar with the story,” Taren nodded.

“The story goes that the Trinity came to our world, each with a desire for it. One wanted to rule it, One wanted to burn it, One wanted to give it life,” Blaz’tik continued.

“The God who sought to Burn the World, battled the Life Giver, and burned his light out. That is how Saolaviris became The Moon.”

“The God who sought to Rule the World, battled the Life Giver, and was shattered and spread across the skies, which is how Yularien became the Stars.”

“And the Life Giver, Trelena, became our sun. The story ends, with ‘A Lone Pillar Of Light Stands Alone In The Night’ – surrounded by the moon and stars.”

“The torches,” Taren said, looking at the other torches in the room. “Only one must remain. But which?”

“The one facing the door,” I said. “Because that’s the one facing the door – the way we need to go.”

Quickly the others snuffed the remaining torches save for the one facing door with the runes on the wall. And as the last torch died, the door rose…

[Maxix]

Whaaaat?!? The son of Contar and Yennica…
Yennica… you told me I was the only one… I want the DNA test on Tawmis!

Nice coupe the theatre! A bit sad though that the secret about Tawmis has been revealed already Let’s hope for more mysteries in next chapters.
Well done so far Sir Tawmis! I am not a native English speaker so I cannot really judge the quality of your style, but I am enjoying the story a lot so far (…and you do not dare to leave it unfinished!!! ).

Note for the developer:
This is the wonderful thing about LOG… it’s a game that does not snuff out the creativity of the user but it tickles it.
I read a lot of suggestions in the forum about how a LOG 2 should look like and I am a bit worried you may lose the spirit of the original game
LOG is cool because it leaves many things to your own imagination, it gives to you the game mechanic leaving all the rest to your creativity… like a real old school RPG should do.

[Sir Tawmis]

Whaaaat?!? The son of Contar and Yennica…
Yennica… you told me I was the only one… I want the DNA test on Tawmis!

I don't think he wants to get near mages to do another DNA test!

Nice coupe the theatre! A bit sad though that the secret about Tawmis has been revealed already Let’s hope for more mysteries in next chapters.

With how my mind works, I have no idea. I just write these when I don't go out for lunch during work. And there's no planning for one moment to the next, except for Tawmis' backstory origin. That was the only thing I had "planned."

Well done so far Sir Tawmis! I am not a native English speaker so I cannot really judge the quality of your style, but I am enjoying the story a lot so far (…and you do not dare to leave it unfinished!!! ).

Hah! I doubt if it will go unfinished... it may get to the point where folks are begging me to end it! LOL

As for the style, it's nowhere near in-depth as I would normally do when writing... Just because I only have an hour each time I write these. But I am enjoying just unleashing some creativity and "building" my version of Legend of Grimrock...

Note for the developer:
This is the wonderful thing about LOG… it’s a game that does not snuff out the creativity of the user but it tickles it.
I read a lot of suggestions in the forum about how a LOG 2 should look like and I am a bit worried you may lose the spirit of the original game
LOG is cool because it leaves many things to your own imagination, it gives to you the game mechanic leaving all the rest to your creativity… like a real old school RPG should do.

It really does! It gives enough to give you details, and enough, for those with some imagination to create the rest! I love it.

[Sir Tawmis]

(I feel the origin of Tawmis was a little sparse, so I revisited it...)


There’s a thousand reasons I hate Mages.

One of which, they raped my childhood from me. When I was thirteen years old, a sect of Mages from the Academy of Des, known as The Crimson Order, abducted me and ripped my mind apart with magic; stripping away at me, layer by layer, seeking to uncover the possibility that somewhere, deep within my subconsciousness, I had heard my parents speak of Orb of Zhandul which was rumored to hold almost limitless god-like magical powers.

Day after day, they stripped away another layer of my mind. The sensation is similar to having your skin peeled away by a dull knife. Day after day, crying out for help – and all you get are shadowy figures hiding beneath their cloaks, chanting their magic, and ripping your mind apart. Day after day, month after month, year after year, for seven years.

For seven long years, I wondered why my mother, Yennica Whitefeather, one of the most powerful Mages, never found me, never rescued me.

For seven long years, I had those Mages of the Crimson Order rip my mind apart. I believe at some point they stopped caring about finding the Orb of Zhandul, and just didn’t know what to do with me – so I became their experiment, their plaything.

Once I was 20, and I could fight back – they knew they had to get rid of me. They took me and traded me in Namaer – where I was thrown into slavery. I was forced to work the kitchen – where, one day I recognized the distinct smell of Crularious – a plant used to slow down the bleeding. The Crimson Order had used it on me, when they cut me open, experimenting on me. It has a different effect when consumed; it poisons the blood stream when digested, causing grogginess. I watched as they crumbled it into a serving a food that was meant for “one of the gladiators of the ring.”

I managed to become one of the servers for the food that day; and saw that it was meant for one of the minotaurs – Taren Bloodhorn – as his final meal before the gladiator ring. I tried to warn him before he consumed the food about its contents, but I couldn’t reach him. So when he entered the ring, I could see that the poison was already taking effect. He was lucid, barely aware of his surroundings. So I did something that came from somewhere deep within me – I jumped the railing and yanked my chains with me, and stood next to him, and helped him. The crowd cheered at this unexpected turn of events, thrilled to see chaos among the guards who had tried to stop me.

In truth, I was ready to die.

I wanted to die.

I had no childhood. I had no good memories. I was a slave. Beaten.

I was ready to die. This was my way of fighting those that would suppress the wills of others.

Back to back, we fought round after round of charging minotaurs, until the crowd had become so enamored with effort to survive – that they roared our names. The King was forced to call an end to the fight, or face the possibility that he would lose favoritism with the people.

After being paraded around for several days, we were set free, but banned from returning to Namaer.

Taren swore a blood oath to me, that one day, he would repay saving my life. I told him, I had not wanted him to walk with me because of a Blood Oath. I had already been a slave, I knew what it was like, and I would wish it on no other.

Truth be told, the death wish that dwells within me, has long remained. Taren has repaid his Blood Oath to me more times than I can remember. Too many times, since our freedom, have I provoked a fight that I knew I could not win. Too many times to remember, it was Taren who showed up and saved me, time and time again.

It wasn’t until Taren nearly died for me, that I saw something I had never seen before.

Friendship. Love. Caring.

He was not with me because of the Blood Oath. He was with me because he was my friend.

My first, true, honest friend.

That moment changed my life forever.

But the one thing that has never – and perhaps never will change – is my hatred for The Mages.

Because as soon as the riddle was solved and the door opened, there was a row of undead archers…

[Komag]

holy cow, that gives me chills! You HAVE to keep going with this!

[Sir Tawmis]

holy cow, that gives me chills! You HAVE to keep going with this!

Thank you! You honor me with your compliment! I too also felt like revisiting Tawmis' origin and fleshing it out a little more added some more depth!