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“What my great grandfather told me of the dwarves,” your great grandfather chitters out to the rest of the mischief, gathered all together in one of the deeper chambers of the Warren to listen to another of his stories. “Was that their propensity for callous cruelty was only ever outshone by their master craftsman approach to technological innovation and . . .”

. . .

The human male – Alan – dashes down the upper entry corridor of Khagh Moldir in pursuit of the small, scuttling remnant of the fort's former inhabitants. The whirring noise emanating from the machine makes it all the easier to follow with your eyes as the tall, tailless creature outpaces the small device's scurrying gait. Once within striking distance, before they get too far ahead, he bends down and lashes out with an open hand, ripping the many-legged machine off the wall before holding it up in the air, its legs kicking futilely as it struggles to escape.

“Got it,” Alan informs the rest of the expedition, turning back round and walking towards the group at a much more casual pace.

You watch the metal product of Dwarven intellect as the human approaches. Your nose twitches as you dwell on how simple that solution seemed to be.

“That easy?” you mutter to yourself in your native tongue, looking about for some sign of . . . something. Your tail is still tingling so something must be up.

What eventually draws your wary gaze is seemingly captured machine Alan holds proudly. The large red gem at the center of its carapace begins pulsating at a faster rate. It takes you a second of watching it to realize that not only has the rate increased, but it steadily continues to do so, getting faster and faster with each passing moment of supposed captivity. Even the tailless being holding the small, spherical intruder has its attention drawn to this rapid change.

What is it doing?

. . . Your hairs stands on end.

. . .

“Their propensity for callous cruelty was only ever outshone by their master craftsman approach to technological innovation and . . . their affinity for explosives.”

. . .

>Run up and rip out the gem
>Shoot the machine with your crossbow
>Shout out a warning
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1440462
>>Run up and rip out the gem
while shouting out a warning

>>1440462
>Shout out a warning

Start with the word 'bomb' before anything else.

>>1440462
>>>Run up and rip out the gem
>while shouting out a warning

>>1440462
>Shout out a warning
"BOMB!"

hello?

“BOMB!” you bellow as loud as possible in the foreign tongue of the orcs, bounding towards the human as fast as you possibly can. Alan adopts a stance with one open hand outstretched, the other held low clutching the construct tightly as he prepares to hurl the self destructive machine high into the sky where it can explode ineffectually.

But that would be quite the waste!

Right as he's about to throw the spherical device you sneak your tinier digits into his grasp and pilfer it from his hands.

He stares at you incredulously for but a moment as you hold up before your eyes the very thing you were warning was dangerous, firmly possessive of your find.

Remove the gem to halt the process? Would probably work. All you need to do is pry the pulsating ruby out of that metal shell. You have the proper tools stored somewhere in your pack to do so delicately, but judging by the high-pitched whining noise the piece of Dwarven tech is ravaging your sensitive eardrums with, you doubt you have more than half a second to solve this issue before it literally blows up in your face.

Well, at least you'll probably survive. Unless this thing is filled with shards of moon glass – silver, as the other races call it – you'll eventually recover from the very painful consequences of your actions if your gut instinct fails you now.

Which it hasn't yet to this day! You have just the natural tool to solve this. The strongest part of your body: your teeth.

Biting down, you crunch through glass and firmly lodge the hot, vibrating gem in between your top and bottom teeth. With an extraordinary pull, utilizing all of the Skaven strength in your upper body, you are filled with glee as you hear the satisfying sound of mechanical tearing as the spherical shell is torn completely apart from the gem now sitting in your mouth, slowly being bathed in your saliva.

You shut your eyes tight for a moment, waiting for an explosion to occur anyway . . . but after a few tense seconds as the ruby cools you realize your plan worked flawlessly.

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After chittering a cheer of victory around the orb in your mouth, you spit it out into the crook of your arm.

You look up at Alan, smiling wide. As best as you can tell, his expression is much more pensive than your own.

A few moments pass in silence as you look back to the rest of your foreign associates in this delve. The array of looks being cast your way are varied enough.

“Unorthodox . . . but I can't fault the results,” Rowe says first.

Eventually, the large blonde female nudges the darker-skinned female in the ribs with an elbow.

“Hey Kyra? Can you disable a trap with just your teeth?” she asks, chuckling as she does.

“Yes,” comes the immediate, curt answer.

The silver-haired tree walker approaches you and clears her throat before pointing at your ruby. “Do you mind if I took a look at that, Vrimkis?”

>Sure. You can have it.
>No. It's mine. I earned it.
>What's your offer?
>Write-in

>>1441547
>>Sure. You can have it.

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>>1441547
>What's your offer?

>>1441631
damnit, eustace, fuck you.

>>1441644
https://youtu.be/PJNqYh4YaTk

>>1441547
>Write-in: Is this to examine, appraise, and then return it to me, or are you wanting a trade?

>>1441557
Seems out of character for a guy who put a bomb in his mouth for a chance at getting this thing as loot.

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“What's your offer?” you ask the tree walker.

She frowns. “What?”

“Well is this to examine and appraise before returning it to me? Or are you wanting to trade?”

“Well that would depend on what I find out,” she says, darting a hand into a pocket of her robe as she does so. Pulling out a few shiny pieces of platinum she extends her hand out, offering them to you. “Would this suffice for payment? About a hundred gold.”

You wiggle your nose in confusion. “That's not gold. That's platinum.”

She chuckles. “No but it's worth . . . do you know what currency is?”

“Yes,” you answer.

“Good,” she responds. “This is worth a lot back at Seaside.”

“I can't buy anything there.”

“Yes, but . . . uh, you could get someone else to buy you something, I suppose.”

“No deal,” you reply, shaking your head.

“What precisely do you think you can do with that ruby anyway?”

You shrug. “I don't know yet. I'll think of something.”

“Wait a moment,” she tells you, holding up a finger before running over to her pack and rifling through it for a few long moments before returning to you holding a pair of small boots in her hand. “I'll give you these for not only the ruby, but I also want the shell as well. I'll throw in the platinum pieces as a bonus.”

“Why would I want those boots?” you demand, wary of tree walker trickery.

“Well, they're magical. Called the Boots of the Cat. See, when -”

“WHAT?!” you shout.

“Uhhhh, sorry, I misspoke,” she apologizes. “They're called the Boots of the Rat. See, when you put them on, you're always guaranteed to land on your feet. Very useful for falling great distances too. Added bonus is that they're very comfortable to wear. Much softer on your feet than . . .” she cocks her head as she examines your toenails. “Than the nothing you're wearing right now.” She nudges you in the shoulder with her hip. “They'll make you look a bit taller to boot. What do you say, Vrimkis?”

“Hmmmmm,” you utter, thinking. “The trade sounds good. But I need to know you're telling the truth!”

She sighs out. “I'll jump down to the bottom wearing them to prove it. Is that alright, Alan? Ed and Eve need another four hours of rest before they're ready. And I only need two hours of rest to get back whatever I use now.”

Alan shrugs. “Sure.”

Once this Quissonce character proves to you that the boots work, you make the trade and slip the pair onto your feet. True to her word, they're quite comfy. Flexing your toes, you realize they're also quite spacious, designed for someone with bigger feet than yourself. But still, magic gear is magic gear and you'll take anything you can get.

As Quissonce begins fiddling with the ruby and the destroyed construct in her little area upon the balcony, the rest of the expedition relaxes, set on waiting for a few hours before starting the delve proper.

>Rat form reconnoiter!
>Wait here with them
>Write-in

>>1443636
>Rat form reconnoiter!
I remember that magic items are supposed to conform to the wearer, so that they're always a tailored fit. I don't remember if magic items will transform along with the user if the user is a shapeshifter, though.

>>1443636
>>Rat form reconnoiter!

>>1443636
>Rat form reconnoiter!

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Well, while your momentary allies are busy getting the last of their beauty sleep out of the way, you think you'd be best served by getting a head start on exploring the vast interior of the structure your direct ancestors helped build. You're too jittery with excitement not to dive right in now that you're wide awake with that headfirst encounter with a potential fiasco.

You inform Alan – the leader of this pack as far as you can tell – of your plan to scout ahead, employing the talents and skills only one so horribly cursed with your particular affliction can effectively do. A proverbial – and literal – rat in the walls, you'll be.

He nods along as you explain, biting his lip as he looks around the faces of his comrades in various states of consciousness and drowsiness. “Sounds like a useful first step,” he concurs with the genius of your statement, before meeting your gaze directly with a serious expression. “But do try to be careful and don't get yourself killed doing something stupid. You brought us for a reason, right?”

You nod emphatically. “I'll scurry right back if I run into any trouble so you can take care of it.”

He rolls his eyes. “I'm sure you will. And tell us if you find anything amazing on the way. My opinion on Desden isn't much better than yours, so don't make me have him scrutinize you, alright?”

You nod again. “Yes, of course.” And with that out of the way, you turn on your heels and walk away, quickly shrinking as you move until you're no larger than your average rat, padding along on all four paws through the corridor leading into the balcony entrance of the fort.

Riches and treasures here you –

“Oh wait!” Alan suddenly announces behind you. You stop and look back over your shoulder at the human as he stands up quickly and fiddles at a satchel on his waist. Drawing from this container, he produces the pet squirrel he owns that you've glimpsed on occasion throughout the past week's journey. The two of them chitter a few quick exchanges at each other in the tongue of the squirrels, before the pet takes off from Alan's hand and glides towards the ground, landing beside you rather gracefully. “Take Muffin as backup,” Alan tells you, grinning before he retakes his seat on the stone floor of the balcony, looking out towards the rising sun.

This . . . Muffin sizes you up for a moment before surprising you.

“So you're Vrimkis?” he asks.

You blink rapidly. “You can speak rat?”

“It's similar enough to Squirrel. Rodent dialects all share the same roots, did you know that?”

“ . . . No.”

“Well they do. Sorry if I have a bit of an accent.”

“So . . . are you some sort of squirrel skin walker?”

Muffin shakes his head. “Nope. Just a regular old squirrel blessed with sapient level intellect through an arcane bond with a . . . let's say moderately powerful wizard.”

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“Oh?” you ask, wiggling your whiskered snout. “That all?”

“Yep! Hey, do you think if you bit me, every full moon I'd turn into some sort of bipedal humanoid?”

“ . . . I don't think it works like that.”

“Eh, well, it was worth a shot.”

You stare at each other in silence for a moment.

“Let's get going?” he offers.

“Let's get going,” you concur.

. . .

Your collective paws pitter patter across the smooth, polished stonework of the entry corridor, making your way into a place that you only thought of as family legend until you found the place yourself some many months ago. You're just giddy at the prospect of seeing inside it – the first member of your family line to potentially profit from what your ancestors helped build.

You quickly make it past the entrance and into the very first open chamber of Khagh Moldir.

And by the Great Warren in the Sky, is it everything you'd hoped for and more!

Up near the top of the mountain's interior which the balcony spills out into is a very long walkway spanning nearly the entirety of the upper area towards the top of the natural ceiling the un-hollowed out portions of the mountain provide. Unfortunately, you don't see an easy way to get down to the ground level from here without jumping or flying. Well, that would be unfortunate if you didn't just get a new pair of boots!

Except . . . do the boots even work while you're in this form. The rest of your clothing disappears and its not as if you feel like you can draw your sword or your crossbow while in the guise of a regular old rat. So if you wish to get down from up here safely, you should probably assume your regular form momentarily and hop down fifty feet onto the roof of one of those buildings down there. Or maybe onto the statue!

If you do that though . . . you might get spotted. This place is supposed to be abandoned, but if there's one piece of Dwarven technology still running amok, there very well may be more. Or even worse, some actual dwarves to operate the machinery.

“Hop on my back,” Muffin chitters to you, breaking you out of your moment of pondering.

“What?” you reply, confused.

“I'm a flying squirrel. Emphasis on flying. I'll guide us down there quick.”

“I weigh as much as you do. You'll never keep aloft!”

“Well we're aiming for the ground anyway. We'll fall gracefully and without a broken bone between us.”

>Swallow your dignity and hop on Muffin's back
>Be your own man, assume bipedal form and jump down there
>Take a risk! Fall in rat form.
>Write-in

>>1444648
>>Swallow your dignity and hop on Muffin's back

>>1444648
>Swallow your dignity and hop on Muffin's back
We're greedy, not prideful.

>>1444648
Hey Trick, Pascala and Tornado aren't Alan's familiars, but he can talk with them using Speak with Animals.
Do they lack the enhanced intelligence that Muffin has, since he's a Familiar and they're not, or are you fudging that Pascala and Tornado count as Animal Companions from Alan's Ranger levels, and while not as self-aware as Muffin, they're still smarter than the average animal?

So, about getting that house.
Something outside the walls so that Tornado has space to run around?
A cottage in the back for Dukov?
A treehouse for Muffin? Or would he prefer attic space?

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“Fine,” you concede to the magically uplifted lower life form. He lowers his back haunches to the ground and stretches out his arms to get his gliding flaps taut. You scurry up onto his back.

“Ugh,” he groans from the massive strain.

“Are you sure you can do this?” you ask, very concerned as to whether he might just sink like a rock with your added weight on his core.

“No no,” he tries to dismiss your implied fears. “Don't worry about it,” he says in an attempt to console you, shimmying a bit to get used to your physical presence. “Better this than getting that asshole owl to fly us down there.”

“But he has wings and can actually fly,” you bring up.

“I can fly!” Muffins argues as he approaches the edge of the walkway, in between the metal bars of the railing with ample space on either side of him to slip through.

“You can fall and not die when you hit the bottom. That's different from flying.”

“You have Chester dig his claws into your ribs just once and you'll be changing your tune real quick.”

“Fine. Just do it,” you chitter in exacerbation, shaking your head.

“Alright. Clench up and get ready.” His much fluffier tail wags behind you as he psyches himself up. “One . . . Two . . . THREE!”

Muffin leaps off the upper walkway and immediately the both of you enter freefall. You clench, gripping onto his back for dear life as he spreads himself out. For a moment you're sure you're just going to land in one big SPLAT that will take you hours if not days to recover from.

But then the windfall catches you and your guiding, riding squirrel maneuvers your conjoined forms in some dexterous move that even as quick a Skaven as yourself finds top notch.

Still, with the added limitations of carrying you, Muffin's options for landings are highly limited.

“Go for the statue,” you advise and he does just as such, dropping into the stony beard of a 50 foot dwarf facsimile which dominates the entire fortress chamber.

You dismount your squirrel and he gives you a very demanding look.

“Very good job, Muffin.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you scamper your way down the dwarf, running at nearly vertical angles straight down in the way only rodents of your fine caliber possibly could, eventually reaching the foot of the statue.

Now on the ground floor, you start to feel the heat emanating from somewhere far beneath you. The entire atmosphere seems to have changed to that of someplace sweltering and humid. Like the interior of an Ogrish sweat lodge – a place you've only had the misfortune of being once in your relatively short lifetime.

The architectural detail on the various buildings you find yourselves immersed within are of an exquisite quality you've heard the dwarves are capable of producing. Intricate designs and well-crafted images of faces and creatures that would appear almost lifelike if not for the stony color and texture of their skin.

“So, what next?” Muffin asks, turning to you with a questioning eye.

You suppose you are in charge for the moment.

>Open the large doors on the ground floor from the inside
>Search for treasure!
>Map out this first chamber by exploring it
>Write-in

>>1449231
>>Map out this first chamber by exploring it

>>1449231
>Map out this first chamber by exploring it

Are Vrimkis and Muffin going to be like a Beverley Hills Cop-like duo on this excursion?

>He's a shape-shifting rogue of a rat!
>He's an Uplifted animal sensitive about his ability to fly (he can only glide)
>Together they steal food!

Yeah I'm kinda out of it right now. So I'm just going to scuttle this thread. Please don't archive this thing.

I'm going to restart Thread 65 of The Lost Island Quest on Friday, post every single post so far up to the point we've reached and then continue from there.

Sorry for this major delay and thank you all for being patient through this.

>>1467367
Approximately when on Friday do you expect to start?

>>1468161
I might have to push back to Saturday now that you ask.

Pushing the restarting of this thread back to Saturday.

>>1468909
Got it.

Thread restart is back on Friday again.

Thank you for your understanding.

So, I'm sure a lot of you could see this coming from a mile away. Trust me, so did I. And I've been reluctant to just pull the trigger because I don't want to flake out and ruin everything. I've dropped meme quests before but I think we can all agree Lost Island is of a much different category. It's the first quest I've ever run and I gotta say, on the whole, I've enjoyed it immensely. Its gone through an exodus from /tg/ to /qst/ and a change in posting style but I think its fair to say that the initial torrent of this narrative has dwindled to an absolute drought with a dribble here and there which I don't think satisfies anyone. I've been alright with this so far, but at this point it feels like I'm just torturing the few of you who actually really enjoy this quest. No matter what, I just can't seem to muster the desire, effort, gumption or drive to keep writing Lost Island. It's been a year and a half since I've started, sixty five threads of content, and I've had my fill of the characters, the setting, the mechanics, the style, the plot, the everything. I don't feel the urge to see this thing to its conclusion and it slows down the process of writing as the writer's block, the taking days off and the procrastination sets in. Which means it will take even longer and at this point, with the pace I've set, to actually finish this quest with an ending that isn't a rushed montage of me blitzing through things just to get the damn thing over with
It would take me years.
I apologize if I've dashed your hopes, but better for me to rip the band aid off now than in three weeks after i've made ten more useless updates.
I'm abandoning questing on 4chan altogether as well, as I'm kinda tired of the site and vastly prefer anonkun. Whether or not that's because its new or because its "better" is something I'm not sure of.