/tg/Station 13

Bottom post of the previous page:

Alipheese wrote:Fuzz, I dunno bout you but our second child should be in honor of Wyzack.

Can do, the alternative suggested in discord was Freya, which is sort of nice.

Summer finally comes around, and with it the grass that had been sustained by the rain finally withers and dies with the rest.

Ramakul, the bureaucrat that had replaced Remie i elected Mayor this time around. I guess people were impressed with his management skills. Giestina is furious about this and vows to win back the people's trust for next election term

Another night creature comes to Mistscholar, seemingly desperate for our skilled warriors to end it horrid curse and its suffering once more
This one resembled a twisted scorpion that twists and fidgits, truly a disgusting beast. Fuzz and his warriors assemble to meet the creature head on.

First on the scene is Sylkie. She arrived just to see the beast rend some random milker apart with its massive claws, blood spraying across the trade depot. Infuriated, She raised her silver mace high and charged directly towards the beast. It turned around, clacking its pincers ominously. As she neared the best with her shield raised, its tail darted around and pierced Sylkie right through the shoulder, injecting a mighty dose of cursed venom. She fell to her knees, writhing in agony. Her flesh began to rapidly mutate, her bones cracking and shifting beneath her rapidly paling and thinning skin. Her eyes showed the most primal and profound emotion. Fear, but also beneath it, hate and indefatigable purpose. As her armor fused with her arms, twisted to jagged appendages of murder, she saw a brief moment of clarity. Revenge. The final act of Sylkie Ialen while in control of her own changing body was to reach out a giagantic clawed arm. The original creature, momentarily gloating in its supreme victory, balked. Chitinous black eyes seemed to widen, and with a final brutal act of violence the monster that had one been Sylkie Ialen pinned its progenitor to the trade depot wall and shredded through the center of its torso in a final desperate act.

Her vengeance complete, all that remained of the mild mannered militia commander faded to white, replaced by unthinking rage and unimaginable hunger. It turned to face its former comrades, its mighty form heaving as it rushed to battle. Iglek the musketman took a shot and missed. His inaccuracy cost him his life as the beast chopped off an arm and two legs, leaving him to bleed out in the dirt.

Next was one of Sylkie's own trained soldiers, a nice enough peasent kid named Imec. Rather than kill him, the creature stabbed its newly formed stinger right into his heart, pumping the same black poison through is veins. Another few agonizing screams and moments of body horror and mutation and one had become two. Sylkie killed another militiaman, kicking his head to paste with one of its new leg-like appendages that had burst from its side. Imec thrashed about in agony, catching another militiaman in the leg and taking off his foot.

Things were looking fucking grim. The remainder of the army's moral began to wane. Having to not only attack their own comrades, but with the risk of harboring the same awful transformation, who wouldn't run?

There was a mighty battle cry from behind. Thunder and Tedward stood next to An0n3, cosmic, and a few other members of the city guard, weapons raised. Our soliders dived out of the way as, with a cacophony of erupting black powder a salvo of steel bullets erupted from all barrels. Weresylkie dodged the first shot, the second and third piercing the torso and head, killing the creature and putting her soul finally to rest. The ultimate deliverance from an ancient curse. The creature that was formerly Imek, having finally transformed completely, was pierced in multiple places. The beast shuddered and collapsed, bleeding black ichor into the grass. Capitalizing on this, our melee forces rallied, piling around the creature and smashing it to bitter pieces.

As the blood settled and the conflict finally drew to a close, fully five of our brave townsfolk gave their lives to end the linage of the werescorpion curse. The battle still stands as a testament to the tenacity of man, and the power of the firearm.

Memorials are set to be created and engraved for the fallen, displayed in front of the main gate. Despite it all Sylkie is lauded as a hero, using her final reserves of willpower to slay the original beast even as the curse took hold of her own mind.

Holy shit boys, that was almost it. One or two more werescorps and we were fucking sunk

Also it seems that SuperAgroCrag also collapsed and died in the carnage, in the goods stockpile of all places. I don't know what the shit happened but DFHACK tells me they died of thirst. I am pretty sure the Xen assault left her unable to use either arm for grasping, so maybe that was why? Too much time had passed though, she had to have been drinking a few times since then. I dont know but they are dead now. F

I declare that all soap created must now be withheld from the fortress and used to build a home and memorial for soaper crag, the fetid stench of the citizens their shame and punishment for letting one of their own die due to neglect and callousness.

F.

How do you buy foreign work permits? Through a specific guild?

F.

Feels sad man. In the aftermath of the conflict memorials are held for the dead, more coffins are produced, and memorial slabs set to be engraved.

Somehow we got a bunch more freeloading bards permenantly living here, despite the fact that I only approved like two residency petitions. Clamping down hard on that shit, no more fucking musicians. Soliders and scribes still welcome.

New housing and roads are still being laid down as the summer heat sizzles the last of the rain puddles, caravan should be coming soon

Holy shit apparently that naga lady told her friends, we have like 6 scalies partying all hours in the bar now, along with the normal drifter human bards

A corner of the academics guild is cleared out and re-paved with soap floors, a slab in her honor is presently being engraved. A testament to the hubris of man, and the need for clean

Well apparently some Dwarven count's fucktoy has decided to brave the journey to our little slice of heaven based on the reputation of our awesome lizard party tavern
Here is the SAC memeorial found next to the soapers workshop on a paved soap floor
And here is our latest artifact, an elaborate mechnaism that has a picture of the mechanic's scaly waifu when she first came to Mistscholars

Fucking werescorpions sound terrifying man.

they are easily the most dangerous werebeast i have even fought against. Super powerful shredder claws and insta infection stinger tail, plus carapace armor. God bless the firearm, god bless America Mistscholar

Summer continues to drone on as we wait anxiously for our yearly caravan, the higher ups of Mistscholar eager to prove that the small town is worthy of elevation as a more esteemed fief in the Festive Nation
The town actually looks pretty sharp with the roads all down, it is pretty crazy to think a few scant years ago this place was literally one wood building in the middle of a savannah. Apparently Aranamor is big on local heroes. Of the 4 statues she made for the town square to flank the new park one is of An0n3 becoming captain of the guard, and one is of AlmightyFuzz being appointed to Militia Commander. Of the reaming two one is a picture of a historical event in which an orc got one of his minor toes ripped off by a giant mosquito. Kind of an odd choice but what can you do. the last one is a copy of the first Fuzz statue. I guess he is a local celebrity.

Summer is actually gone now, no caravan. Not sure what the fuck is going on but i feel it is related to whatever caused the caravan to fuck up last year. If we are no longer getting human caravans then this fort is kinda fucked.

If you stopped getting caravans your civ is wiped (or never existed). Your leader must still live somewhere or you would have gotten a very obvious problem.

No, no, I like his word choice.

Question, what if a fortress is still in the same area as a hostile gobbo civilization, but the gobbos stop sieging. Does this mean the gobbo's have died out in the area? They originally showed on the initial start screen and I was sieged about 3 times before the disappeared.

Occasionally goblins will send a war leader with their sieges

If they do, and you kill them, there's a good chance you just crippled their warmaking efforts completely

Alright folks, just a quick update on the state of the game

I promise i have not actually abandoned it, i have just been a bit busy and also playing Stardew Waifu Sim again.

Basically the fort has gotten a little boring, and for whatever reason we did not get a caravan from the capital this year.

This means that it will be two years before we get any sort of promotion, and FPS is edging downward as time goes on. This is a huge bummber because our king is a diety and i want him to come live here.

Addiditonally we have not been getting many invaders. We once got a "The Enemy Has Come and is Laying Siege to the Fortress" message, but i looked and it was just one octopus zombie that immediately left the map as soon as i unpaused. No promotions and no invasions make Zack a dull boy.

I am planning to play at least another year, but if nothing of note happens i might make an adventurer, recruit as many of our warriors as I can and see if we can take out those towers

At least the Dwarves seem to appreciate our craftsmanship, they show up with a veritable fleete of wagons and pack animals laden with goods of all kinds. Eager to chat with famliar faces in shade and relative safety of the town, and enjoy a pint in the Spice of Poems. Seriously, there was like 9 wagons and a bunch of individual animals.

We decide to make it worth thier while, exporting several thousand gold worth of masterwork meals and in return getting a pile of weapons, several type of booze, a ton of new meal ingredients, and basically anything else we feel like acquiring. The traders seem extactic with the exchange. We also get two Dwarf work contracts, and plans are made to set up a Dwarf merchant stall and Dwarf workshop here in town to diversify the economy a little bit.

The lag is basically inevitable over time, as piles of items are accumulated and pathfinding calculations increase with our population. I regularity clean all contaminants to help reduce it, and i will also probably cheat in a pool of magma at the bottom of the corpse pit to delete all the shit down there and help reduce the lag some

Can I be added in as a pesant or into your military. Or just as a damn character in general. Azura for the name. Or Just reyn

Guardsman, Musketeer or militiamen?

Wyzack wrote:Another night creature comes to Mistscholar, seemingly desperate for our skilled warriors to end it horrid curse and its suffering once more

Spoiler:

This one resembled a twisted scorpion that twists and fidgits, truly a disgusting beast. Fuzz and his warriors assemble to meet the creature head on.

First on the scene is Sylkie. She arrived just to see the beast rend some random milker apart with its massive claws, blood spraying across the trade depot. Infuriated, She raised her silver mace high and charged directly towards the beast. It turned around, clacking its pincers ominously. As she neared the best with her shield raised, its tail darted around and pierced Sylkie right through the shoulder, injecting a mighty dose of cursed venom. She fell to her knees, writhing in agony. Her flesh began to rapidly mutate, her bones cracking and shifting beneath her rapidly paling and thinning skin. Her eyes showed the most primal and profound emotion. Fear, but also beneath it, hate and indefatigable purpose. As her armor fused with her arms, twisted to jagged appendages of murder, she saw a brief moment of clarity. Revenge. The final act of Sylkie Ialen while in control of her own changing body was to reach out a giagantic clawed arm. The original creature, momentarily gloating in its supreme victory, balked. Chitinous black eyes seemed to widen, and with a final brutal act of violence the monster that had one been Sylkie Ialen pinned its progenitor to the trade depot wall and shredded through the center of its torso in a final desperate act.

Her vengeance complete, all that remained of the mild mannered militia commander faded to white, replaced by unthinking rage and unimaginable hunger. It turned to face its former comrades, its mighty form heaving as it rushed to battle. Iglek the musketman took a shot and missed. His inaccuracy cost him his life as the beast chopped off an arm and two legs, leaving him to bleed out in the dirt.

Next was one of Sylkie's own trained soldiers, a nice enough peasent kid named Imec. Rather than kill him, the creature stabbed its newly formed stinger right into his heart, pumping the same black poison through is veins. Another few agonizing screams and moments of body horror and mutation and one had become two. Sylkie killed another militiaman, kicking his head to paste with one of its new leg-like appendages that had burst from its side. Imec thrashed about in agony, catching another militiaman in the leg and taking off his foot.

Things were looking fucking grim. The remainder of the army's moral began to wane. Having to not only attack their own comrades, but with the risk of harboring the same awful transformation, who wouldn't run?

There was a mighty battle cry from behind. Thunder and Tedward stood next to An0n3, cosmic, and a few other members of the city guard, weapons raised. Our soliders dived out of the way as, with a cacophony of erupting black powder a salvo of steel bullets erupted from all barrels. Weresylkie dodged the first shot, the second and third piercing the torso and head, killing the creature and putting her soul finally to rest. The ultimate deliverance from an ancient curse. The creature that was formerly Imek, having finally transformed completely, was pierced in multiple places. The beast shuddered and collapsed, bleeding black ichor into the grass. Capitalizing on this, our melee forces rallied, piling around the creature and smashing it to bitter pieces.

As the blood settled and the conflict finally drew to a close, fully five of our brave townsfolk gave their lives to end the linage of the werescorpion curse. The battle still stands as a testament to the tenacity of man, and the power of the firearm.

Memorials are set to be created and engraved for the fallen, displayed in front of the main gate. Despite it all Sylkie is lauded as a hero, using her final reserves of willpower to slay the original beast even as the curse took hold of her own mind.

Holy shit boys, that was almost it. One or two more werescorps and we were fucking sunk

RIP Me.

i like how i have likely just been still farming dirt this entire time

Hm, could you, in theory, somehow get that venom and put it into still water, then drop swords into it, to make them poisoned with monster-creation venom?
Not that you would like to do that, mind.

A day in the life of NSOS Abuthslibtu

Each morning she wakes up before the dawn, walks down the rickety old steps to the dining hall and eats a masterwork mussel roast. Then she heads out from dawn till dusk to tend the fields. Because it is so hellishly hot and dry in Mistscholar the crops need constant watering and tending to in order to not die. NSOS works tirelessly in the hot sun, answering any question or comment with a shake of her head or a solemn "Ayupp." At night she has a single mug of sewer brew silently in the tavern, before trudging up to bed and doing it all again.

She is one of the few pillars of steadfast unchanging rock in our tumultuous city. When the dead first assaulted the walls she shrugged and went on carrying buckets of water. When that milker got literally shredded to a fine mist at the werescorpion's claws before her very eyes she shook her head and went back to planting prickleberry seeds.

She doesn't really care about anything anymore. Except for farming.

i love it

It happened again.

Those who had been with the fortress from the beginning recognized the signs immediately. The low distant moans. The scent of fel cheese carried on the cool winter wind. In the barracks Almightyfuzz stiffened, clenching his silver mace tightly in his hand. The dread cheese legions had returned. At the blowing of the horn the combined forces of our city, close to thirty fighting men and women total, gathered to the west gate to meet the foe head on. This time led by a fiendish dwarf necromancer lasher named Umil Drainpiss, no doubt driven to the hands of darker powers over constant ridicule for his fucking retarded name, and accomanied by close to one hundred shambling cheddar fiends. A draft is put in to place to recruit additional fighters.

Once again the forces of good and the forces of cheese will meet in the field of battle

AlmightFuzz had a flashback. the first time such a conflict occured the goblin herding the monsters turned tail and ran at the first sign of conflict. Unwilling to let the cheesemancer escape unscathed for a second time, he ordered the combined armies of Mistscholar to sally forth and meet the foe in the field.

Our forces kind of looked about not sure, untill Fuzz gave a mighty cry with his hammer held high and sprinted around the corner, smashing a foe into delicious spread with a single strike. Invigorated, our forces sallied from the west gate with a cacoughanous rally and the crack of muskets.

There was a disgusting and pungent clash of steel on cheese. A few of our militiamen were dragged down screaming before the cheddar tide, before being uncerimoneously ripped to shreds. Fuzz and Djangle fought back to back, hewing down tens of the horrid beasts. Many of our soldiers are at this point very well trained, and bladed weapons made very short work of the cheesy horde.

Chocobro is a bit of an oddity in our army. He has switched primary weapons like 5 times, and has adequate skill level in like 4 different fighting techniques. For this battle he had selected a tungsten longsword, and was in deep in the enemy horde. This necromancer was an actual fighter, and rather than run away he was in the middle of his army brandishing a copper whip and reanimating the dead. Realizing that while he was still practicing his fell magic the battle would never end, he beelined for the warlock. The Dwarf assumed a practiced fighting stance. Choco stepped up, faked to the left and then sliced him in his whip holding arm. It did not fly off so much as get completely ruined by the strike, striped of flesh and bone flying in several directions and painting the ground.

The necromancer fell back screaming. Choco attempted to finish the job, but was forced to fend off a swarm of reanimated cheese parts as they attempted to drag him down. The coward dwarf turned tail to run away, his arm a mangled mess. An0n3 was on the front lines commanding the city guardsmen. He crunched a cheeseman's head with the pommel of his sword and looked to his right at the screaming short sorcerer. He carefully leveled his pistol and fired a single shot. the bullet flew almost in slow motion, hitting him squarely in the upper left side of his chest, splintering his ribs and puncturing through his lung. He flung foward and landed face down in the dirt.

Gotta go for a while, will wrap this up when i get home

Apparently the little necro was down but not out. Without him constantly causing the pile of limbs to surge up at our warriors every couple seconds we start to push them back and gain some ground. One overzealous recruit sprinted over, the glory he would win by putting down the necromancer burning brightly in his mind. He got down on his knees and raise his sword, hoping to plunge it in to the Dwarf's back as he lay prone on the ground. In a fucking flash of dwarven martial trace ninja skill the shot up necro whirled around and punched him in the neck so hard THE INJURED PART COLLAPSED IN TO GORE! I am not even shitting you, this fucking dorf with his torso shot up and his right arm literally torn to ribbons managed to sucker punch one of our soldiers to death by exploding his neck into giblets.

AlmightyFuzz was standing a few feet back. He grabbed an animated cheese hand that had latched on to his chestplate and threw it to the ground, stomping it to paste. He looked over to the downed necromancer just in time to see him explode a young hopeful militiaman's throat in a bloody spray. Fuzz clentched his teeth and shrugged off another cheese beast, striding over to the downed Dwarf with great purpose. He placed a single mailed boot in the middle of the dwarf's chest and brought his silver mace down on to his head with a sickening crunch, crumpling his iron helmet like tinfoil and caving in his skull.
Killing blow is close to the bottom of the logs. It also seems that any sort of blunt weapon is hilariously ineffective against the cheesemen, but bladed weapons fuck them up really badly.

After the dwarf was killed the rest of the animate cheese parts were put down with ease. At the end of this massive invasion of close to 100 cheesemen we have a few bruises and broken bones, two soldiers dragged down and partially devoured by ravenous cheese zombies and one recruit with his throat falcon-punched into mulch. Mistscholars holds.

With the last of our foes slain the peasantry gets to work, hauling the various cheese parts to the now-magma'd corpse pit. The smell of delicious fondue wafts through the town like the sweet breeze of victory. Mistscholars had slain a vile sorcerer general who commanded the powers of life and death and lived to tell the tale. Azari did the honors, hauling the dwarf to the corpse pit before unceremoniously booting him in. The post-invasion celebrations have begun, to both celebrate our victory and honor our dead. AlmightFuzz once more proved his worth as commander of the Mistscholar army

Oh man, the guy who got his throat punched to oblivion was actually the husband of the recruit Imec who was turned into a werescorpion and killed earlier in the year, and they apparently have two adult children together who are living elsewhere. He was also AlmightyFuzz's cousin. Small friggin world i genned here, so it seems. Also apparently his parents are both already serving in our militia.

Decided to post the bio for my boy AlmightyFuzz Showlobster. Not only is he our most skilled asskicker, he is a pretty interesting dude
Despite being an incredibly skilled warrior, it seems his greatest dream is to bring peace to the world. I guess leading soliders in a place infested with a ton of necromancers is as good a way to achieve that goal as any.

He also has the needs alcohol tag, which not all humans have. I guess drinking helps him cope with his "doesnt care about anything anymore" tag that he has now. I like to think he fights to make the world a better place for his children

Make me the worst human just like in real life.

I'll go to war with my chisel and axe, put me in chief.

One of our career soldiers is named Azura, and a suitably uninteresting human is chosen to be name Incomptinence.

It is still mid-winter but we use our merchants guild in order to call a caravan from the capital. They have no diplomat with them but we hope that this has helped to unfuck our own caravans and get us on the track to becoming the capital once more.

Curious is the trapmaker's art, his efficacy unwitnessed by his own eyes. The traps that Azari designed worked well, we now have four cheese zombies in cages in our dungeon. Plans are laid to make a cheese zombie shooting range in the earth next to the quarry, but setting up the failsafes will take time.

I am taking suggestions for what to do with the other three. I am not above creating an arena, promoting a human to the rank of luchador and making them wressle

Have one of Fuzz and its kids luchador it up with one of them for the fortresses entertainment!

Wyzack wrote:Choco stepped up, faked to the left and then sliced him in his whip holding arm. It did not fly off so much as get completely ruined by the strike, striped of flesh and bone flying in several directions and painting the ground.

i might get this commissioned

Djangle Djingo is the next to have a child. Since he refused to give me a name after substatial prodding the child shall be named Squibble Cleanedstill

you still haven't named an alchemist after me

Sorry Dryn there was that confusion when our chemist died but then not because of a crash and i kinda forgot.

Drynwyn has been made fortress chemist, and Ohlos has been given an Orc Poet who lives in our tavern.

Updates have been a bit slow, mainly because FPS is chugging and causing time to pass relatively slowly. Butchering some of our animals has helped a bit.

We have a leatherworker in a strange mood, but we do not have the kind of yarn he needs. I am expecting him to go berserk or something any day now, the fortress guard on at the ready in case that happens

For the past couple days Thrimes had been doing nothing but lurking around the leathershop in the throes of what most knew as dwarf craftsman sickness, a mental affliction that drove one to create a work of legendary craftsmanship. However, he seemed unsatisfied with the materials available. He had a small pile of blocks and leather, but was fervently arranging and rearranging them and muttering about threads and yarn. None of the thread offered to him seemed to fit the bill. He had been shirking his militia training and other duties the whole time

Another thing about Dwarf craftsman sickness is that if the afflicted can not realize his vision, they will inevitably lose their mind in a fatal way. Most either become gibbering idiots or melancholy husks of their former selves, eventually comitting suicide or just plain starving to death. However it is said that the effects are occasionally more sinister. As such, people started to give nervous looks to the shop, and give it a wide berth whenever possible.

One warm mid-spring night it finally happened. One of NSOS' cabal of farmers was walking up to the tavern from the south wall where they had been on building duty, looking to grab a pint before calling it a day. As he walked along the path he heard an inhuman howl of rage and agony erupt from his left. He turned just in time to see Thrimes sprinting towards him, a silver mace held high in his hands and a look of profound madness and suffering in his eyes. He brought the mace down on to poor Olo's leg, shattering his femer. Olo screamed and collapsed to the ground. Rather than finish the job cleanly, Thrimes wrapped his calloused hands around Olo's throat and squeezed with insane strength. Olo's eyes began to bulge out, spit drooling from his gagging mouth as he attempted in vain to remove the hands in a vice grip around his neck. Everything started to go white an- BANG

With fucking trick shot marksmanship, none other then Tedward the musketeer shot Thrimes in the upper arm while he was mid-strangle, splitting the appendage in a spray of gore. Right behind him was Azari the craftsman. With no weapon other than his swinging fists, he stepped up to the madman and kicked him squarely in the chest, shoving him off the dazed farmer. With his arm all fucked up he had a hard time retaliating, although he still had his mace. Azari tossed another left hook, connecting with Thrime's unarmored remaining hand and fracturing the bones. Thrimes gave another howl of agony as his mace clattered to the paved road, and lept upon Azari attempting to tear the craftsman's throat out with his teeth. Azari neatly sidestepped, and got ready to deliver another punch when reinforcements arrived. Aranamor, former tree murderer and recent military recruit chopped him in the lower body with her greataxe and spilled his guts across the pavement. Gido the random fisherman militiaguy plunged his ebonglass longsword in one side of Thrimes head and out the back, finally putting him out of his rampaging insanity.

Olos was rushed to the hospital where a very sleepy CMO set his leg and made sure his neck was not broken. Azari was lauded as a hero by Olo's wife and our literal pack of Naga bards sang a ballad in the honor of all those who put down poor Thrimes.

That was an exciting fight

I am the CRAFTSMAN. I craft JUSTICE and SAFETY FOR THE INNOCENT.

You let me die of thirst you smelly bastard.

YOUR BLOOD WILL WATER A NEW GENERATION OF TREES

When Azari first arrived in Mistscholar with the seven founders he was content to put the skills he gained in his architect apprenticeship to good use. Not only did he design and help construct most every building in the town including the glorious life-giving wall, he also constructed most of the furniture that the people of Mistscholar enjoy every day. Ever the 5 or so years since the town began he had honed his craft to a fine art. But there had always been something niggling at the back of his mind, ever since the incident where an alligator attacked Remie. He fought that alligator with his bare hands, caving in its skull with the heel of his boot. The rush of combat, the thrill of fighting with nothing but ones own skill, better than any drug. As the years went on and Azari's duty shifted to mostly just cutting marble bricks for the castle, the desire to experience it yet again grew stronger.

The incident with Thrimes was the perfect outlet. He faced down a maddened and superior equipped opponent and took him down. He could have finished the job too, had the militia not shown up. Even still he was lauded as a warrior and a hero, the thrill and the fame was utterly intoxicating. He decided to use his political clout to make some shit happen.

Takeguru mined out a large arena in the lower area of the quarry, and Aranamor began to smooth and engrave it. On the second level a number of gem viewing windows were planned to be placed to give a viewing area for the arena below. A hatch was installed so that animals, prisoners, and whatever else could be dumped down for Azari to engage in honorable unarmed combat. Azari had become Mistscholar's first ever LUCHADOR!!!!!

Oh also this dickhead showed up
Caverns are sealed off so he can not actually get to us, but i really do not like even having him around

Not very uguu.

Spring turns to summer, and the construction of the arena is well under way, when all of a sudden one of the watchmen on the walls yells to sound the alarm, that a vile force of darkness has arrived.
According to the civ screen they are from this new entry, a Demonic civilization called the whirling ticks. Here is their noble screen
Looks pretty spooky. They seem to be at war with our civilization, the Festive Nation, and decided that the best way to strike at them was to hit an isolated outpost. Their intel is pretty shitty if they thought a handful of weak ass wrestlers could take the place down though, here is hoping they are not packing wicked magic or some shit

"Ass Fiend Administrator"?

Sounds like something you'd encounter around Citadel.

they had no special powers

For whatever reason this small band of about 6 or 7 unarmed and untrained warriors charged right into the waiting guns of our combined forces army. They immediately panicked and tried to run, but the first volley of bullets took a toll. Only 2 got away, the rest foolheardily standing their ground or else too fucked up from bullets to escape. Our forces charged forward and annihilated them. Chocobro cut not one but TWO dudes arms in half again, i guess it is his signature move. There was a lady consort among their number, and Djangle cut her nearly in half but not quite, which is something i have never actually seen before. An0n3 got another headshot instakill and Fuzz crushed someone skull again.

The entire burst of violence was over in moments, our forces cut down the enemy without even a bruise to show for it.

Azari was on the other side of the fort, and by the time he arrived the conflict was over. However, he noticed that one of them blundered into one of his cage traps. Azari grinned. The arena had found its first contestant.

The time had come at last. The arena had not yet been completely smoothed and engraved, but the crowd would not wait. Azari walked into the arena and the drawbridge slammed shut behind him, sealing it shut. Two would enter this area, only one would leave.

In the seating area above much of the city guard and militia showed up to support their champion and watch the bloodshed
From a hole in the room Belam, this event's opponent, dropped and landed awkwardly, looking ashen faced and grim. Azari cracked his knuckles and advanced on his opponent as one of the miltia audience gave a cry from above

"LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLETS GET READY TO RUMMMMBLLLLLLLLLLLE!"

The two opponents circled eachother, sizing up the other up. Belam made the first move, rushing at Azari attempting a reckless blow. Azai sidestepped and delivered a few solid punches. The two traded blows back and forth, neither able to score a critical blow. Belam landed a lucky punch on the side of Azari's head. Azari fell into a defensive stance, spitting out blood and a tooth or two onto the floor of the arena.

Capitalizing on his momentum, Belam rushed ahead and landed a couple good body shots, bruising a rib and a kidney. Azari gave a bellow, boxed his ears, and then REACHED FORWARD WITH HIS HEAD, BIT BELAM'S GODDAMN TONGUE AND JUST FUCKING PULLED. With a disgusting squelching sound the tounge was ripped right out of Belam's head. Azari spit it to the side, blood dripping down his face. Azari went hard on the offensive, crunching Belam's right hand and breaking a bunch of his fingers. Belam screamed in pain, attempting another strike. Azari caught his left arm neatly with his own arm, put him in a hold and bent his shoulder until it collapsed with a series of sickening popping and crackling sound. Belam screamed again and fell to the deck. Azari began fucking wailing on his head, only realizing he had bled to death after he had been at it for some time.

Azari stood up and raised his hands to thunderous applause. It was messy and real fucking gross, but the first ever Mistscholars pitfight was a raging success.

here are some logs
and the aftermath
I was not expecting that to be so fucking gruesome