Definitely Not Dwarf Fortress (PF INC)

[Croverus]

There is no cheering crowds, no parade through the tunnels or grand feast to wish them off. The five were picked for their skills. They could be called the best, but that wasn't fully true. The five knew this mission was practically suicide, but these days every dwarf let out a sigh of relief when they make it to their beds, and another sigh when they wake up alive. Such was life in this changed world, and only recently had the High King decided on his crazy plan.

They arrived at the deep tunnel entrances. The High King stood in the entrance chamber, along with 6 of his personal guard, the Lorekeeper, and Scoutmaster Yorick with one of his Scouts.

The Scoutmaster was the one to speak. "You will be passing through an old dwarven road that cuts through the underdark. It has been closed to all but the scouts due to its close proximity to a portal leading to some shadow plane. You can expect to see shades and undead on your path. My advice is to avoid combat unless you have no choice. You will travel through the tunnel for two days. Rest lightly, move quickly. The road will lead to a ruin, which you will climb stairs leading to the Outside. If you are on time one of my scouts will meet you at the top of the stairs three days from now, his name is Torpor. If he has not arrived by the fifth day since you left, assume him dead and move on. If he does meet with you he will pass on to you a map of the best route to Blood Gulch, and report on its inhabitants. Stay hidden, and may the gods watch over you, should they still be watching."

The High King spoke next, his voice a rumbling mountain ready to crash upon the evil creatures that threaten his people. "Yorick is sending Pellet with you to keep you on the road. The Scouts are spread too then to offer more help until you meet up with Torpor at the Tower Door. The Loremaster has also convinced me to allow him to accompany you. He promises me that even if the gods do not speak to us, they still empower him with his magic, and you will need him. And though I wish to join you myself, I must stay here, protect our people. My daughter, Bruana, on the other hand, thinks you all will fail without her shield arm."

One of the King's Guard removed their helmet to reveal short, braided red hair and a face that by dwarven standards would be considered pleasant. All who lived in the stronghold knew that the King's daughter was a capable fighter but few ever saw her in person. Now the five knew why. "Well if they went without me and bollocks it up, I'd hate to tarnish the pride of their spirits by finishing the job myself."

The King gave a laugh. "Indeed my dear. Now then, you five should be already. I must head back to the inner keep. Even if the old gods are dead, the prayers of our people are with you. Good luck." He and his guard saluted the five briefly, then they depart with the Scoutmaster, leaving Bruana, the Loremaster, and the Scout Pellet with the five.

Player list for easy reference:
TempestFury, playing Trygg the Fighter 7/Stalwart Defender 1, speaking in Green
drayen, playing Fkald Earthguantlet the Cleric(Forge Master) 8, speaking in Purple
unseenmage, playing Rith Uthurinth the Psion (Metacreativity)(Constructor) 8, speaking in Brown, his psicrystal will speak in Bold Brown
Keledrath, playing Harmuk Slayer 8, speaking in Orange
Prehysterical, playing Grundor the Fighter(Two Weapon Warrior) 8, speaking in Fire Brick

[Tempestfury]

Trygg stood impassively as the king spoke, his large shield bound to his back, with his weapon of choice coiled around his armour. Standing above the rest, clad in a full-plate constructed out of pure adamantium, this dwarf was an impressive figure, a living fortress that the enemy would be hard-pressed to by-pass. When it was announced that the loremaster would be coming with them, there was a flicker across his face. Though it was only when the king’s daughter was stated to be coming with them did he frown, and even then only slightly. Despite his own feelings on the subject, he was a mere warrior, and trusted his king’s judgement.

Once the king and the scoutmaster left, Trygg wasted no time in getting down to business. “Shall we get going then?” Pleasantries could happen whilst they were on the move, and they should have no more business in their homes, no reason to linger and be tempted to stay behind. The quicker they left, the sooner they could complete their quest.

[Prehysterical]

Grundor itched with anticipation to be on the move. Since he had lost his home of Morriya to the outsiders, his blood had boiled at the chance to strike back at his people's enemies. One hand twirled his dorn-dergar idly, wishing to send it swinging.

Strolling forward, he asks, "'Bollocks up', eh? And who trained you in axecraft, princess?" His tone is challenging, his pride slightly stung by anyone mistrusting his swinging arm.

[unseenmage]

Rith nodded sagely at all which transpired. Or was he nodding off? Had he been nodding even before the others arrived? He quickly stopped nodding just in case.
He stands lightly equipped alongside two clockworks, a beetle and a, sometimes floating, spidery eye. A third creature, a much smaller spider-like crystal, stands on his shoulder.

It's not so much that Rith's gear is in poor condition or even poorly made, it is that it seems to be very poorly worn. Like a child who dressed themselves every piece of equipment and clothing is askew in a different direction.
Everyone knows the story of how he was found, the only survivor of his home fort. About how he's not quite right in the head.

Suddenly Rith blurts at the clockwork beetle, "It would be hard not to wonder if he's being sent on this mission as an asset or as inconvenient cargo." In the back of his head Ponzi, his psicrystal, reminds him that Shudder, the clockwork beetle, didn't need to hear that aloud and that no one else present realizes that the statement was self referential.

Rith nods sagely in reply, a look of calm confidence on his face.

[drayen]

A figure clad in polished full plate is one of the dwarves comprising the five select. The block of shining metal stands motionless amongst the others, keenly attentive the words of his liege. When it is mentioned that the gods may not be listening, a chortle bursts out from the vents in the front of the helm. At Bruana's revelation, a low appreciative whistle echoes out from the cavernous hollows of the metal.

"We are wasting time when there are miles yet to trod today." Intones a voice slightly muffled by the helmet.

[Vhaidara]

Harmuk grunts, still looking over the rig he had set up for the oversized crossbow on his back.

My vision is that he has a rig to fire and reload the crossbow while keeping it back mounted.