All a dwarf needs - the saga of the Zuntir Clan (DF Community Fort)

[Maxymiuk]

Captain Sibrek Imsalsarvesh looked at the crowd, hiding his nervousness under the expressionless face of a professional soldier. A Day of Exile always gathered a few onlookers - mostly families of the guilty, but this was different. There were far too many dwarves gathering around the protective ring formed by the fortress guard and, worse yet, they were too quiet. There was no crying, no pleading for release, no jeers or throwning rotten plump helmets. Haulers, fishers, farmers, craftsdwarves, masons... and all of the fort's remaining blacksmiths. They all simply stood there, looking on silently. Looking at him.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Departure.png

Captain Sibrek knew what, or rather, who was the cause of this. It was the young dwarf - his name was Derek, he recalled - in a smith's apron standing in front of him, waiting patiently for his reply. Normally that would be a clout behind the ear from one of his soldiers and a few nights in the cells, but this - he spared the growind crowd another glance - this required some discretion.

"Look," he tried reason again, "you do realize what you're doing? What the consequences will be?"
"Yes," Derek replied quietly. "If I leave, I can't come back."
"More than that. Once you're out the gates-"
"I'm no longer a dwarf." what got to Captain Sibrek the most was how thrice-damned calm that dwarf was. Most in his situation would - well, they'd be dead by now, brought down by the guard after strangling three dwarves, a horse, and a kitten. "I will have no rights, no property, no family, no name. I will be forgotten. I know."
"And, knowing all this, you're trying to convince me that you're volunteering?" Sibrek asked incredulously.
"We're allowed to, aren't we?"
"Well..."

It was true. By law, anyone could undergo the Exile, for whatever reason. However, no one ever did. Ever since the law was made, all who have left were cast out of the fortress by noble mandate for their crimes. No sane dwarf would make the choice to abandon the safety of the mountain, not with the wilderness teeming with wild beasts, goblins, elves, and worse.

"Why?" he aked finally.
"You know why, Captain," Derek's voice was as calm and quiet as it's been through the whole conversation, but now there was the tiniest edge to his words. "You were there. With a lot of your men, watching me."
"I don't write the law," Sibrek said stiffly.
"That's true, Captain," Derek nodded solemnly. "You only carry it out. And the law says, anyone can leave. Now please - may I join the others?"

"We leave once we finish loading supplies," Sibrek said finally, stepping aside and signaling his men to let the smith through to the group of dwarves by the last wagon. "You have until then to change your mind."
"Thank you, Captain," Derek said. "But if I stayed, I'd be agreeing with what was done to me. And that isn't something a true dwarf would do."



***************************************



Why yes, I've decided to run a Dwarf Fortress LP, why do you ask?

So let's start with the usual.


Dwarf Fortress?

It's a frustrating, difficult, complex, insane, ugly, unfinished, and above all FUN game that you can find here (http://www.bay12games.com/dwarves/). The game itself is a long ways off from being finished, but that doesn't stop it from being among some of the (subjectively) best games currently in existence. I recommend anyone to at least check it out.


AAAaaaaaaa what the hell is this?

Yes, that's exactly how most people react to the ASCII interface. To answer the next question, no, I won't be using any graphic packs modders have created, for the simple reason that I find them much more difficult to parse than the default symbols. So lucky you I'm the one who'll be dealing with the actual playing bit, no?


That image above confuses me.

The smiley faces represent our titular dwarves and the whole game is played from a top-down perspective. The rest you'll probably figure out from context (or just play with the game for a bit). Incidentally, that very image isn't actually from the game, since setting things up like that would be, at that point, more or less impossible without resorting to hack tools. I made it using a little program called AsciiDraw (http://www.tailpig.com/AsciiDraw/), which I'll continue to use throughout the LP. Incidentally, it's and idea I, ahem, borrowed from a very good community fortress that you should read right now (http://www.bay12games.com/forum/index.php?topic=35346.0).


Ok, so what's a community fortress?

You may have seen the thread for the succession fort that we have (had?) running on this very forum. A succession game has multiple players that play for an in-game year, then pass on the save to the next person in line. By comparison, a community fort has a single person doing the actual playing, with other people participating through claiming individual dwarves to be named after them, as well as (sometimes) journal entries reacting to various events in the fort. In fact, judging by the forts I've followed, knowing the goals and motives of individual dwarves tends to be an enormous help to the author of the story.


Then how does this work, exactly?

There's always seven dwarves to begin with, and you get a pick of six (since one of them's already taken as my "avatar". We'll be getting more later through migration, though arrivals may be slow in coming, at first. What I'll be asking from you is name, prefered gender (that's randomized at embark, so no promises!), profession, and the reason for being exiled from the fortress.


Exiled?

The background to this story is that the mountainhome suffers overpopulation and lack of available work, the two problems than not even the frequent hammerings for unmet mandates can solve. To counter this, the king finally ordered that all criminals would be cast out from the fortress.

However, since he quickly ran out of criminals, the was expanded to include any and all dwarves that were deemed not to be dwarven enough - with what constitutes "undwarven" behavior decided on a case-by-case basis by the royal court. Those found guilty would be stripped of their status as a dwarf and cast out of the fortress, their only chance to redeem themselves to found their own fort, beyond the borders of the kingdom, using only the supplies provided - all a dwarf, a true dwarf, needs to survive.


When does this start?

Hah, not for awhile yet, actually. I'll be starting the actual game once the newest version of the game comes out (sometime in March, hopefully). You know, the one with all the cool new stuff, like doctors, and improved military, and burrows, and the underground, etc. But until that happens, I intend to hold you over with the origin stories of our little group of exiles (accompanied by handcrafted ASCII art). And this is where you come in. To reiterate, I'll need:

Your name:
Your preferred gender:
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six):
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six):

Profession restrictions: in order to simulate the conditions in the mountainhome, all starting exiles can start with at most four levels in skills out of the usual ten - so you can be a Novice in four skills, Skilled in one, or anything inbetween. Here's a list of all skills (http://df.magmawiki.com/index.php/Skills#Professions.2C_colors.2C_.26_skill_categori es), though the next version will also have a few new ones related to medical care. And here (http://df.magmawiki.com/index.php/Experience#Increasing_skills) is a list of existing experience levels.

Reason for exile: get creative with this. The royal court is ran by nobility, and who knows what they consider undwarflike. And remember that the more you give me, the more I'll have to work with.*


You better not abandon this LP the way you did Morrowind!

I know, I'm sorry, I won't. Promise.


Anyway, let's get started.


* Just, you know, don't overdo it.

[Maxymiuk]

Table of Contents

Prologues:

Introduction - Exiles (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=7951836&postcount=1)
Jahjah (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=7953070&postcount=8)
Zazit (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=7960138&postcount=14)
Celes (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=7966569&postcount=23)
Milski (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=7997579&postcount=27)
Raroy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8023400&postcount=28)
Obadiah - Part I (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8060657&postcount=29)
Obadiah - Part II (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8180141&postcount=34)
On the Road (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8206413&postcount=38)

Part I - Just Us
Spring - All a Dwarf Needs (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8630789&postcount=43)
Spring - Improvise and Adapt (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8644923&postcount=54)
Spring - Trouble (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8695489&postcount=73)
Spring - Useless Bounty (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8710003&postcount=79)
Spring - Turning Farmer (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8733388&postcount=82)
Spring - First Thaw (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8741939&postcount=83)
Spring - Wine and Walls (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8782782&postcount=90)
Summer - Summertime Socials (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8796728&postcount=91)
Summer - Unexpected Arrivals (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8820352&postcount=98)
Summer - Four Lost Dwarves (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8834918&postcount=107)
Summer - She's an Artist After All (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8849474&postcount=109)
Summer - Undead Goats (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8857028&postcount=111)
Summer - Not Easy Being a Dwarf Among Humans (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8864062&postcount=113)
Summer - It Really Did Happen That Way (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8871544&postcount=120)
Summer - Name You Earn (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8966553&postcount=122)
Autumn - But Caravans ALWAYS Show Up (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9027818&postcount=125)
Autumn - Can Love Bloom in Frozen Hellholes? (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9398214&postcount=126)
Autumn - 7th of Sandstone - Obadiah Gets Himself a Journal (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9447396&postcount=139)
Autumn - 23rd-26th of Sandstone - Dwarves Are Big on Applied Theory (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9510117&postcount=140)
Autumn - 30th of Sandstone - They're a Bit Like Spiky Gooseberries (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9589766&postcount=145)
Autumn - 2nd of Timber - It's Because He's the Only One Who Doesn't Snore (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9605577&postcount=147)
Autumn - 2nd of Timber - If It Bleeds...Wait, What? (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9618323&postcount=149)
Autumn - 2nd of Timber - It Is the Baby, Isn't It (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9647626&postcount=151)

Deities:


http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Deities/AsmeltheEarthenTax.png

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Deities/Ekast.png

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Deities/LuritCrestgold.png

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Deities/Ostar.png

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Deities/AlilBlamelessclears.png


Characters:

The Founders:

Jahjah:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Jahjah.png


Zazit:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Zazit.png


Celes:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Celes.png


Milski:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Milski.png


Raroy:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Raroy.png


Obadiah:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Obadiah.png


Derek:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Derek.png



Arrivals:

Idked:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Idked.png


Xeper

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Xeper.png


Zenos

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Zenos.png


Dalantar

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Dalantar.png


Khaine

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Khaine.png


Terra

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Terra.png

[The_JJ]

Your name: Jahjah
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): Miner.
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): Dared to suggest to Baron that maybe the tunnel should go here not there. Because putting the tunnel there would, you see, flood levels 4 through 6.

[TheLogman]

Name: Zazit 'The Great Spark of the End'

Gender: Female

Profession: Bonecrafter, specializes in Masterpiece Bolts.

Reason for Exile: Quite frankly she feels the other dwarves aren't dwarven enough. 10 years ago, she received a revelation from Armok telling her to slaughter every last elf. From that point on, every year when the trade caravans came, she set another trap and killed a few elves. Eventually, she succeeded in provoking a War between the Elves and Dwarves, but she was exiled before she could revel in the slaughter, because of something stupid like "Trade Agreements" and "Peace Treaties".

Her Goal: Eventually, she hopes to provoke another war with any nearby Elven Regions, one where her bolts would fly true, killing thousands. If possible, she would be honored to be the puller for a bridge or trap that did the deed and started the war.

She is a carryover from the Succession game we had been playing. I decided to declare war on the Elves, and she dragged herself up 3 flights of stairs and hundreds of steps with a collapsed lung to pull the lever that dropped an entire caravan 10 flights onto spikes...TWICE. She then made a very nice Goblin Bone Artifact. In the succession game, I ended up making her and her family a royal level room with her own lever to kill Elves, and named her husband Apocalypse, and her Children after the 4 riders (Elf-Starver (Famine), Elf Plague (Pestilence), Elf Bane (War), and Elf Death (Death)).

But you know, even just having her attempt a similar deed would be nice. Or even an artifact by her. Because her goals are rather lofty, and a good military with crossbows in need of bone bolts isn't in play for a while, it may be preferable to just name the first Bonecrafter you see 'The Great Spark of the End' and go from there.

Keep in mind that Toady has said a few times that this update could be a while (You may be waiting till May or Later).

[Celesyne]

Your name: Celes
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): Brewer
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): Replacing the Hammerer's barrel of booze with a barrel of stream water (Carp included)

Stupid Hammerer thought he was the King of the Muontainhomes, and demanded the extravagance of a king. Well, I din't have the time nor patience to deal wif such idiocy. So, I gathered the Golden Gem encrusted barrel he had decreed be used for his Masterwork Dwarven Brandy. Went out to the river, and with the help of a fellow upset fisherdwarf and crossbowdwarf, wrangled an enraged carp into the barrel and filled it with water.

Later that evening, the hammerers hand was found hanging on the outside of the barrel of a rather content, and full, carp.

[Milskidasith]

Your name: Milski
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): Armor (Novice) and Weaponsmith (Competent), fine with mining until we get some actual ores and coal to start forging.
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): Obsidian sword forged due to the baron's mandate contained an image of said noble pulling a lever and being impaled on spikes from all directions.

Nothing is more dwarven, yet more dwarven, than the ritual slaughter of nobles. Stupid baron thought that obsidian, which the mountainhome only had if the dwarf bothered to try mixing lava and water, would be easy for me to come across. Almost burnt off my hands, and figured I'd get payback. Now I'm out here. Fun.

[Raroy]

Your name: Raroy
Your preferred gender: Don't really mind.
Your profession: Artist.
Reason for exile: For not being dwarfish enough. Sightly tall, shaves, and does not drink alcohol. Pacifistic. Is seen as a heretic for these reasons and thrown out.

[Maxymiuk]

It's been less than a month since he was made foredwarf of his team. In retrospect, that was probably why he made that mistake. If he had more experience, he would've just told his crew to dig around the obstacle and "forgot" to inform the higher ups. The tunnel would've been just a little longer and no one would've noticed anyway.

But Jahjah wasn't used to having authority. He was concerned about getting things wrong. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to show initiative. So when Ilem came back and said the walls and ceiling were dripping water, he reported to Baron Thebiliden, plans for a workaround in hand.

When the baron told him to proceed as planned, he made his next mistake. He argued. He tried reason. He talked about how porous limestone is - that any water above just seeps right through. He somehow convinced the baron to come down the shaft to see the water seeping into the tunnel for himself.

"Keep digging," came the order, backed up by the baron's guards.
"No," he replied angrily.
"You dare to refuse my orders?" the noble demanded?
"I will not endanger the fortress," Jahjah threw down his pick.

While the guards dragged him off to the cells, his team was told to continue, under the baron's personal supervision.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Jahjah-flooding.png

When he was allowed a brief visit from his family, he heard that the construction teams managed to put up a barricade just in time to stop the water from getting into the booze stockpiles, but they couldn't stop it from flooding Low Town. Fortunately, most residents had the presence of mind to seal themselves in their quarters, or the main dining hall - the rescue teams tunneled in from above and got them out afterwards. Most of the western shafts were lost however - Damming off the breach and setting up a pumping operation would take months, if not years.

All in all, sixteen dwarves lost their lives, including the baron and five miners.

And Jahjah was the one being blamed.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Jahjah-fightingtheflood-1.png

Surprisingly, it wasn't the glaring unfairness of it that hurt the worst, nor the knowledge that it was decided a hammering was too light a punishment for him. What cut into his very soul like a blade of sharpest obsidian, was the disappointment he saw in his father's face.

Even if by some miracle he was found innocent, he was already considered dead in his own home.


*****************************


Note: if some of the images look different from the way they would in the game, it's because AsciiDraw doesn't have some of the DF's tiles, so I'm forced to improvise.

[ObadiahtheSlim]

Your name: Obadiah
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession: Administrative (Bookkeeper, Manager, etc.)
Reason for exile: Elf Sympathizer. This stems from previous posting as trader where the elves brought a Giant Jaguar instead of the normal bin after bin of rope reed.

[Rockphed]

Out of curiosity, what exactly is "All a Dwarf needs to survive?" I have successfully started forts with nothing but the clothes on their backs and an empty wagon. They tended to die because I was also running natural population growth forts, but they got started up just fine. Also, you stole my idea.:smallfurious: I was going to run a LP of DF once the new version came out. On the other hand, my current record with LPs is miserable, so I will leave this in your much more competent hands.

As for dwarves:

Your Name: Idked
Preferred Gender: Male
Preferred Profession: Hunter/woodcutter(I want to hunt with an axe and cut down trees to boot)
Reason for Exile: Doesn't like being in artificial environments. He much prefers the outdoors or the wild underground. Muwahahahahaha!

[Zenos]

Your name: Zenos
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): Mechanic/building designer
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): Designed a room for a tax collector which impaled whoever tried to sleep in the bed.

[Shpadoinkle]

Name: Dalantar
Gender: Male
Profession: Wrestler. No weapons. He enjoys beating goblins to death with his bare (save for a gauntlet) hands and finds the crunch thier bones make when he breaks thier arms quite satisfying. If he MUST use a weapon, though, he prefers swords.
Reason for being exiled: Expressed a liking for carp. He later tried to clarify he meant the way they taste, but the damage was done.

[xp194]

Name: Xeper
Gender: Male
Occupation: Miner
Reason for exile: While drunk, tried to make out with the King's Daughter. Along with such lines as "I bet you want to see the size of my pick, eh?" Blames the incident on a strange Elvish drink he bought pried from the dying fingers of one.

[Maxymiuk]

Taking another dwarf's pick was wrong. A crime. As bad - almost worse - as murder. "Take it back," the hands grasping it screamed at her. "Throw it away."

"No," Zazit muttered through clenched teeth, and struck the point into the stubborn rock. "I must."

Besides, if all went well, it'd be back by her brother's bed well before he woke up, with no one knowing anything. And all would go well - she knew it. Was it not by Armok's hand that caused the flood that now had mining teams scrambling all over the mountain, trying to reach inaccessible sections that may still hold survivors? In this glorious chaos, no one would pay attention to yet another dwarf wielding a pick that may or may not be theirs.

She was close. Already the granite she pierced with the fine iron tool bled water. Her brother spoke the truth, when he mentioned the old depleted gold vein that came close to the surface by the Halfway Inn.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Zazit-missionfromgod.png

She took a short break to sneer at the buildings down the slope. The king had the beginning of the right idea. Only the dwarven caravans from other mountainhomes were admitted into the marketplaces of the fortress proper. The humans making their yearly trek for the priviledge of purchasing fine dwarven crafts had to stop here, halfway between the first gate down by the entrance to the valley, and the great gate leading into the mountainhome at the end of the highway. That was the proper place for them - close enough to be awed by dwarven architecture, but far enough that they didn't trample all over it.

What was not proper was that the king has also allowed elves to come here. Elves! These carrion eaters had no place here, or anywhere else in the world. Their existence was a mistake, and a blight upon the world. Armok declared it so.

And by His will, tonight there'd be a few less of them.

Zazit went back into the tunnel. She had never held a pick before, and she was weary, but the vision of bloated elven bodies floating in the waters gave her strength.

The pick's blade lodged in a crack, and when she pulled it out, a spray of water hit her in the face. At last! Just a few more swings and-

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Zazit-waterpressure.png

That she survived was obvious - her work was far from over. That she was caught and sentenced was unfortunate, but Armok would see that she was free before long. That none of the elves died was a bitter disappointment - someone had managed to pull the lever lowering the bridge in time to let the water drain out.

That among the charges she heard - theft of a pick, destruction of property, endangerment of fortress security and dwarven lives - she didn't hear a singe word against her attempt to kill the elves, was glorious.

Her cause was just.


*****************************************


Couple notes:

TheLogman: I know, but as the release is already in the bughunting phase, I'm really hoping for early-to-mid march.

Milskidasith: keep in mind that obsidian swords are created using the Stonecrafting skill.

Raroy: when saying "Artist", what skills do you have in mind? Or are you giving me free reign?

Rockphed: The question you should be asking is "what biome are you going to embark on?" :smallamused:

[Raroy]

You can do whatever you please. Carver would make the most sense. So that's something to keep in mind. Here's hoping I don't turn out to be a half breed.

[Milskidasith]

Milskidasith: keep in mind that obsidian swords are created using the Stonecrafting skill.

Oh, I know that. The stupid noble, however, didn't. Assigning a metalsmith to try making something out of stone, especially a stone that isn't even there, isn't a good idea. The Baron just thought "he makes swords. Make me an obsidian sword."

[Robz_defheadz]

Your name: Clake the Grim
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): Miner
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): Shockingly enough does not actually like the taste of beer. He's known as the grim because while the other dwarves party the night away he sits and sips water.

[TheLogman]

Maxy...that was...exquisite.

Also, March? That soon? Awesome.

[ObadiahtheSlim]

I won't be surprised to see it as a May release.

[Celesyne]

Holy mother of Carp.... I had forgotten how awesome of a writer you are. Ignore whatever that crappy backstoryness i had typed up there, and do whatever your muse tells you. and let me reiterate.., Holy Carp your an amazing writer.

[Starbuck_II]

Your name: Delf the Elf
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six):
Trapper
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six):

Thinks he is a Elf. Shaves his beard. Eats only veggies. Won't chop down a tree. Also set fire to a noble's chair, but everyone laughed at that (except the noble).

[Studoku]

Your name: Thol Orstist
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six):
Miner
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six):

Thol looked up at the bearded face of the Mayor. His wrists were chained around his back and his arms were aching. The mayor was angrier than anydwarf had seen him- with good reason.

"I'll ask you again- at what point did digging that hole seem like a good idea?"

Thol thought about this. He had, at some point believed that the excavation in his room would lead to something useful. He fantasised about gems & adamantite, dwarvern artifacts, bones of long extinct creatures talked about by the fortress's philosopher when he'd had too little to drink. Eventually, digging deeper had become an obsession. There were dwarfs consumed by a desire to create; why couldn't a dwarf do the same with digging?

"I wanted to see what was down there," replied Thol, weakly.

Thol was saved from the mayor's response by two dwarfs carrying a large bauxite floodgate.

"Where," began one, before the mayor interupted him.

"Over that door!" he snapped, gesturing at a wooden door. A sulfurous smell was seeping through the cracks and heat was radiating from it.

The magma incident wasn't Thol's fault, at least not in his opinion. If the firey creature in the pit hadn't stolen his pick, the hole wouldn't have appeared. Without the hole, the magma wouldn't have got in. The magma rising up the stairs was rather impressive, until the mayor found out.

"That's my bedroom," pleaded Thol. "All my stuff is in there!"

"I'm being merciful by not locking you in there!" retorted the Mayor. "Kinkel!"

To the untrained eye, it would appear that a large metal rock began moving towards Thol. The Dwarfs knew him as Kinkel, the hammerer. He wore a massive suit of armour that nodwarf had seen him ouside of. Some hypothesised that he even slept in it.

The warhammer in his hands was a monstrous object, covered in spikes and decorated with bone. When his predecessor was around, The Hammerer would cause pain to punish dwarfs and deter future offenders. Kinkel, on the other hand, would end up killing a dwarf in a few blows. The lucky ones died to the first.

Kinkel looked at the mayor. "Ten strikes," said the mayor, mercilessly.

As Kinkel advaced, Thol's mind began to race. Thoughts of everydwarf he had ever known filled his head, combined with the hopeless feeling that he was going to be crushed. The hammer rose.

Thol spun round as the hammer fell. It impacted perfectly on his chains, shattering them. Thol fell to the ground but quickly rose, expecting it. He began to run.

[Maxymiuk]

"Oh stop your whining. It worked, didn't it?"
"Whining? Whining?!" the marksdwarf's eyes bulged. "Then you tell me how in Armok's burning beard I'm supposed to explain this to my commander!"

"This" was the crossbow he now waved incredulously under Celes' nose. However, the weapon no longer deserved its name, as it's been neatly bitten in half, the toothmarks clearly visible on the lacquered oak.

"Think of something," Celes shrugged. "You knew it was going to be risky when you agreed to help us."

They all glanced at the barrel standing by the streambank. It was solid gold, heavy enough that they needed an elf-bred donkey to bring it all the way down into the valley. Even before they filled it with water, it sank a few inches into the soft loam. And yet, they could clearly see that it shuddered under the repeated blows against its insides.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Celes-deadliestcatch.png


Yes, it worked, although at this point none of them were sure exactly how. The plan was to have the fisher distract the carp with his beard, while Celes caught it by the tail and then they both would wrangle it into the barrel, with the marksdwarf ready to shoot in case things got hairy. He explained it to the other two so many times, that in the end even he started believing it.

Instead, the fish decided to go for the marksdwarf. It took a flying leap out of the river, and the trained military dwarf, seeing a face full of teeth coming towards him at eye level, fired, missed utterly, and brought the crossbow up to shield his face.

Then there was a lot of yelling, splashing, and slipping in the mud. Somehow, they all managed to wrestle the carp into the barrel. Somehow, they secured the lid before it could jump back out. Somehow, no one got seriously hurt, although that was mostly because the carp refused to let go of the crossbow. Even now, the piece that it bitten off was still with it in the barrel. Not even the marksdwarf, who faced the prospect of jailtime, or worse, for losing his weapon, suggested they should try and retrieve it.

"Look, just tell your commander the truth. Not the whole truth, obviously," Celes hurried to add. "You got attacked by carp, it destroyed your crossbow and swam away."
"Oh yeah, and-"
"Do I honestly have to think of everything myself? The important thing is that we have what we came for, right? Now we just have to get it back to the fortress before any of us are missed. And tonight we get our revenge."

"The Hammerer dies," the fisherdwarf spoke up for the first time since leaving the fortress. From what Celes knew, he used to be a talkative sort, but that was before his best friend got hammered because the masons ran out of microline for the count's mandates.

"Yes, Kib," he nodded. "The Hammerer dies."


***

It was no secret that Cilob Noramgoden liked gold. The tables and chairs of his office and dining room were golden. His arms and armor racks were golden. His cabinets were golden and decorated with golden spikes. His tool of office, the simple steel hammer, had been decorated with gold studs. He used to have a golden bed, but that lasted only until one particularly cold winter morning he lost half the skin on his back when getting up.

And, of course, there was his prized masterwork solid gold barrel, inset with the finest rubies he could get his hands on. The one where he kept the finest booze turned out by the royal breweries. Speaking of which, he hoped it's been refilled as per his orders. The kitchen help has been getting slack about it lately. Complaining about the weight of the barrel. About the booz stockpiles being cut off by some flood or other. Hah! Lazy weaklings, the lot of them.

The Hammerer rocked the barrel back and forth a few times and heard liquid sloshing around inside. He grunted with reluctant satisfaction when he heard the liquid sloshing around inside. Good. Maybe he wouldn't suggest to the king they spend the next few months working the pumps.

He popped off the lid and suddenly the world was full of teeth.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Celes-bedtimedrink.png


***


"Understand that we are as outraged as you are, Hammerer," the Duke said calmly, "but therein lies the crux of the problem. Your position as the executor of justice requires you to approach the tasks before you with cold impartiality, while this court gets a strong impression that you are taking this particular case rather personally."
"He cost me my bloody arm!" Cilob swung the hammer in a wide arc with his remaining limb, stopping it to point accusingly at Celes, held in chains between the two guards, who both took a step back in the face of the Hammerer's rage. "Of course I'm taking it personally!"
"Which is why, as heinous as his attempt at assassination may have been, we cannot sentence this brewer to a hammering. Justice born of a need for petty vengeance is no justice at all."

There was a sharply cut off snort, too quick to notice who it was.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Celes-thejudgement.png

"So you won't punish him?!" the Hammerer demanded.
"Of course we will," the Duke said. "In fact, we have already decided the punishment."
"What will it be?"
"Exile."
"Exile?" the Hammerer frowned in thought for a long moment, and then smiled a nasty smile. "Yes, exile sounds just fine."

"Hear that, you miserable gritbeard? "You're getting yourself exiled! And you know what?" he grinned broadly. "Right now I wouldn't hammer you if you begged me."



************************************************** ***


Celesyne, while I do take some creative liberties with the provided backstories, in order to make them more cohesive, I still want this to be a true Community Fort, where people can say that their dwarves are really theirs.

Besides, working with the ideas you give me sure beats trying to come up with seven cool and unique stories all by myself.

[Celesyne]

Woooow... That is way better than I had it envisioned. Oh, and as an aside, should the need arise, feel free to morph Celes into whatever gender is required, i don't mind in the least. I don't mind providing a little bit, but I'm not exactly a writer meself, thus why you make absolutely epic LPs and i read them and weep at the awesome story.

[Maxymiuk]

I should probably mention that we're far past the signups for the starting group, with ObadiahtheSlim being the last one to make it by virtue of the FCFS rule. Everyone else will need to wait for migrants.

[Raroy]

In order to make my dwarf more diverse and different, make my dwarf more manic depressive and enjoy locking himself and rooms and carving whatever all around.
Such as prophesies that will never happen and ridiculous philosophies that have the guise of being deep and meaningful are really a bucket of carp. A tree is only a tree when cut down, processed, and manufactured. Then it’s a good tree.

Or something. You don't have too.

[Maxymiuk]

Milski wished that what happened to him could be summed up into a neat adage, a valuable life's lesson to be passed on to any hypothetical offspring he might produce some time in the future. Something about how life's unpredictable and you should make the most of it, or that mistakes don't cancel out, but tend to grow on one another.

So far he had "it sucks to be me."

***

It started twenty three years ago with a failed mandate for an electrum throne, which resulted in five hammerstrikes for the completely blameless Medtob Libasherith, master engineer, and the brilliant (if somewhat erratic) mind behind the mountainhome's vast system of water pipes and magma tunnels. Needless to say, he did not survive the punishment.

Soon afterwards, the noble who issued the mandate was found murdered by means of a lever-operated spike trap. The cleverness of the design pointed at Medtob's daughter, Udil, as the culprit. She was quickly found guilty and executed.

Thus died the second of two dwarves who knew how the weblike array of channels, floodgates, pipes, gears, waterwheels, pumps, and pressure plates actually worked.

However, Medtob wasn't called a genius for nothing. His design was precise, robust, fully automated, and uncharacteristically safe. A system of pressure plates and counterweight ensured that the magmaworks could work without stopping, and that the well always had a fresh water supply. The engineering detail knew better than to touch anything, and as a result the fortress enjoyed two decades of no mechanical breakdowns.

The massive flood, triggered by undermining the main artery of the water system, only served to prove how resilient Medtob's creation was. The water level in the well dropped by a couple of handspans, then returned normal within a day. A few dwarves complained about noise as several forgotten, sealed off pumping stations kicked in around the fortress. That was it.

And perhaps in the end it would've been better if some minor disaster did happen. It may have stopped the nobles from thinking that the magma channels were designed with similar redundancy. They may have not decided to cork the breach with an obsidian plug.

Even so, maybe they'd still have been reluctant if it wasn't for some crazed dwarf with a pick and a grudge, who gave the floodwaters release, turning the passage into the valley into a river of mud. As long as the flood was the mountainhome's private problem, everyone could've taken as long as needed to clean it up. But with the human, and then the dwarven caravan due in several months, this mess needed to disappear now, before their fortress became the laughingstock of the world.

A hasty tunnel was dug, and a system of pumps set up. The engineers carefully breached Medtob's system and slowly pumped magma up several levels and into the plug. The whole operation went off without a hitch.

And everything was fine up until the point where the central chamber under the royal magmaworks overflowed, burning two furnace operators alive and scorching off most of Milski's beard.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Milski-magmaflood.png

The only reason he was still alive at all, was that the emergency measure, i.e. dropping a few dozen metric tonnes of water into the 'works, malfunctioned.

Correction, the emergency release worked fine. It's just that there wasn't any water left in the tanks. A throughout examination determined that it was used to balance out the deficiency caused by the breach in the mines and was only starting to fill back up.

Either way, the magmaworks were sealed off and Milski was being treated for burns, when in waltzed some baron or other, and declared that he heard many wonderful things about weapons made of this stone called obsidian that the fortress now seemed to have, and he'd really like a sword made of it, so where's a weaponsmith he could entrust with the task?

And someone helpfully pointed at Milski. Who couldn't protest, since his face was all bandaged up.

And even though there was plenty of obsidian once they managed to flood the magmaworks, it didn't change the fact that he was a weaponsmith. He didn't know the next thing about working with stone.

And even though his best friend Iton who worked the craftshops, patiently walked him through constructing a wooden (wooden!) handle in such a way that it could be inset with obsidian "teeth", it didn't stop the shards Milski used from turning his hands into a gory mess.

So at this point Milski wasn't in the best of moods. In fact, he was feeling rather miserable. And his only mistake - the only mistake he was willing to admit to making - was that given a choice between acting out quietly now, or loudly and violently later, he went with the former.

The pain from the burns and the cuts on his hands, the story of Medtob that resurfaced due to the recent events, the death, and misery, and lack of of stability, it all swirled and twisted like cloudy beer in his mind, bubbled and strained, and spat out an image of the noble killed by Udil.

The image then found its way onto the sword's handle. It was fairly good, as far as Milski was concerned. And he did feel better for making it.

Until he found out that the baron who commissioned the sword was the son of the noble Udil killed.

***

At this point, as he stood with the group of dwarves who no longer had the right to call themselves dwarves, Milski wouldn't have been surprised if one of the muskoxes suddenly caught fire.

Not surprised at all.


************************************************** *


This took way too long to write in a way I was satisfied with.

Pictures tommorow, once I get a chance to sleep for more than a few hours at a time.

[Maxymiuk]

There are no accidents. Only patterns too grand to understand.

In an old fortress there are plently of places to go if you want some privacy. Forgotten mineshafts, unfinished projects, tunnels leading to nowhere. Places nobody else goes to.

There was a tunnel that crossed a magnetite vein. The ore had been mined out, and the digging discontinued, likely because something else demanded the attention of the miners. It remained like that for years, until Raroy found it.

It was perfect, as long as she remembered not to bring any metal objects with her - there were still bits of ore in the floor. She spirited away a few barrels of food and water that no one would notice missing and brought them here, so that she could be away from the fortress for hours, even days at a time. It's not like anyone would care she was gone. "One part carver, one part engraver, all useless."

Raroy knelt down on by a part of the floor that seemed no different from the other. Why here? She studied the rise and fall of the uneven surface, the grooves left by miners' picks, later worn down by countless boots trodding over them. Yes, she could see the pattern now. A hand here, and there would be a head. Here the light mica gave way to the darker magnetite, the dividing line running just right to to separate the sky and the ground. She reached for her tools and got to work.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Raroy-secretartchamber.png

There were patterns in everything. The patterns were everything. You just had to watch for them.

The flood was an inevitability. The signs have been there. Raroy didn't understand them until it was too late, but she knew something bad was coming - the entire mountainhome fair screamed of it. Even the other dwarves, usually too sodden to notice anything past the bottom of the barrel, were affected. They were agitated, upset, angry, and they didn't know why. They acted out. A new batch of exiles was sent away almost every month now.

She expected all this to subside once the flood was under control. Instead the pattern looped back on itself and now returned with even greater strength. Dwarves were turning violent, vindictive. She couldn't see enough of the pattern to explain why this was happening, or where it would end. But it was easy enough to tell that it would be nowhere good.

The image was taking on shape. There was the mountainhome - there was no mistaking the two peaks, one straight and sharp, the other tapered, as if broken off, that appeared on most of the images related to the fortress. And here, a group of dwarves, walking away from the mountain. Who were they? Exiles? Survivors? Was the mountainhome going to be destroyed? The trees she was etching out have lost their leaves. Wintertime? That was barely half a year away.

She noticed one of the dwarves in the group was noticeably taller than the rest. It was her. It had to be her. She was the tallest dwarf in the fortress, tall enough that an ugly rumor had it she had a human somewhere among her ancestors - a complete absurdity, not to mention impossibility, but like most such rumors, it refused to die.

Regardless of why and how she would come to leave, she knew it would happen. It felt right. There was no future for her in the mountainhome, that much was clear. The Crafts Guild had their pick of highly skilled stonecrafters, none of which got any work either, due to the fortress having a stockpile of several thousand crafts and toys that the yearly caravans couldn't put a dent in. The Engravers had no work either - about the only things left to smooth, or engrave would be the mines, and no one was going to pay for that.

And if it was exile to be her fate, there were any number of ways to make it come about.


***********************************


I've been bad about the number of images in these past couple of updates, I know. I blame the fact that most of them take place inside the protagonists' head, and it's hard to represent that with traditional media, never mind ASCII.

Obadiah's bit is going to be a lot more interesting visually, I promise.

[Maxymiuk]

The Halfway Inn dated back to the early days of the mountainhome, a period of strained relations with the human kingdoms. The founders - it was a time before nobility - hesitant to allow outsiders study the fortress proper, but perfectly willing to purchase the raw materials the merchants brought, established a temporary trading post halfway down the mountain, where they could conduct business every year.

The constant danger of kobold thieves and goblin ambushes quickly led to the outpost becoming a fortified compound, with its own lodgings, wall, moat, food and water supply, and a guard detail.

Though eventually the relations improved, and most of the soldiers moved to the watchtowers built at the mouth of the valley, the law forbidding any nondwarf from setting foot inside the mountainhome was never repealed. Thus the Halfway Inn still served as a trade post for human and elven merchants. As well as temporary lodgings for new migrants.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Obadiah-halfwayinn-1.png

"Broker Alath. Obadiah," the guard greeted them as they crossed the bridge. The broker muttered something under his nose and moved on, only to be accosted by a couple migrants wanting to know if their settlement permits have cleared. He immediately started swearing at them.

Obadiah used this unexpected break to catch his breath and adjust the strap on his knapsack, which was filled to bursting with ledgers and parchment. "The word is, they've dug into the lower quarter," he said to the guard before he could ask the question. "Everyone there survived - they've managed to seal off the stairways before the water got in."
"Thank you, lad," the guard nodded, relief and gratitude clear in his voice. "Best news I've heard all week."
"It was no problem. How's things down here?"
"The usual," the guard produced a small hip flask from underneath his beard and offered it to Obadiah, who accepted it gladly. "Ears keeping to themselves and turning their noses up at anyone who comes near. Strays getting huffy about having to stay down here."

Obadiah winced slightly at the derogatory term for the migrants - it hadn't been all that long ago that he was one of them, waiting at the Halfway Inn for the nobles to decide whether his skills were needed by the mountainhome. Even then, he soon found out that he only got the job as Alath's assistant because Alath himself was currently on shaky ground with some of the Barons and they were considering replacing him - a reason for the broker's permanent poor disposition, which usually found its outlet in verbal abuse of anyone that displeased him. Especially if that someone was Obadiah.

That they were down here to talk with the elves did nothing to improve his mood.

"Do you really have to do this?" Obadiah asked, seeing the guard pull the lever that operated the bridge they've come in across, which now began to raise with the clicking of gears. "We'll be here a quarter of an hour, if that."
"Them's orders, lad," the guard shrugged. "Always a kobold or two that manage to find some goat trail and try to get at the trade goods. Better not to tempt accidents by giving them a way in, no?"
"I guess."

"Assistant!" Alath managed to put enough venom into that word to drop an elephant. "You're not being paid to stand about and flap your tongue. Get over here. And you!" he wheeled on the group of migrants, who shrank back from him visibly. "If I hear one more complaint out of you, I will personally make sure that you're all thrown off this mountain by evening, is that clear?!"

As the migrants quickly retreated into the main building, Alath turned on Obadiah again, his face marred with a deep scowl.

"It seems to me that every time I see you, assistant, you are slacking," he began his tirade. "Off in a corner somewhere, whispering with someone, muttering, gossiping, talking. Not working."

Obadiah knew better than to defend himself, or say anything at all for that matter.

"You are neglectful of your duties. You abuse my goodwill and willingness to take you under my tutelage. You squander the rare gift that is the knowledge of the written word," Alath sighed dramatically over such clear folly. "My patience for you is at its end."

Maybe I would believe that if i haven't heard the same speech sixty-four times already, Obadiah thought, while trying to look appropriately contrite. Twice since this morning.

"But as much of a burden you are, you are my burden to bear. And whether you want to or not, I will see to your training. And a unique opportunity presents itself to perhaps improve upon your meager, nay, nonexistent negotiation skills. Be honored, my assistant, for today you are going to conduct trade with the elves."


********************************************


Ok, here's the deal. I really wanted to do Obadiah's update before I lose access to internet for a week (wheee, vacation!), but I got overambitious with this little story and ran out of time. But instead of leaving everyone hanging, and probably thinking that I'm about to abandon the LP or something, I've decided to post what I have. So ObadiahtheSlim gets a two-parter AND a cliffhanger.

Feel free to heap jealousy and scorn upon him and see you sometime next weekend.

[Rockphed]

I just remembered something of vital importance to the success of this mission! In the next version, hair will be modeled to some extant. Thus we must answer the age old question: do dwarven women have beards? If they do not, then we need not worry. If they do, then Maxymiuk must navigate the chaos that is the DwarfFort RAW files and add beards to dwarven women! The horror! The atrocity! The possibility to ensure our fiery demise before we even begin with a single misplaced opening square bracket!

[lord_khaine]

For when there comes more dwarfs.

Name: Khaine the mad
Gender: male
Proffesion: wrestler
Reason for exile: Khaine has adoptet a ascetic lifestyle of hard work, brutal violence towards any would-be invaders and no alchohol.
While the to first choices are seen as propper dwarf virtues, then the last thing alone was enough to see him thrown out of the fort in case it was contagious, when you then add in his habbit of practicing wrestling wearing only his beard, the question becomes why he wasnt thrown out years ago.

Seeking a more open fort where he can continue his quest for enlightment, Khaine currently wander the wilderness.

[Terraoblivion]

Also signing up for a useless free...a valuable migrant, in case the fort survives that long.

Name: Terra
Preferred Gender: Female
Profession: Farmer
Reason for exile: One day remarked that the decorations of the Mountainhome were terribly similar. All images of dwarves and wild animals striking each other down and menacing spikes and that it would be nice with some gentle curves and abstract imagery for a chance. Maybe even a pastoral scene or two.

[AgentPaper]

Name: Paper
Preferred Gender: Male
Profession: Mason/Foreman
Reason for Exile: Was ordered to build a circular room by a noble. :smallamused:

[Maxymiuk]

The elven compound in the Halfway Inn was an ugly building, bereft of luxuries such as windows, doors, furniture, or even a proper floor. Stifling in summer, freezing in winter, always dank and dark, it was a studied insult to the elven traders, who nevertheless elected to stay there for the few weeks every year when they came to trade.

Why did they continue to come, and to suffer jeers, disdain, or even open hostility, even though four times out of five they were declared to have nothing of value and sent away without seeing a single coin of profit? Obadiah couldn't guess. Maybe that fifth time made it all worth it.

The elves were already waiting for him when he entered the building - three tall shapes in the gloom, hands clasped in front of them, heads bowed, as if in prayer.

"Greetings, imithele," said the one on the left, shifting his gaze upwards slightly, to look Obadiah in the eyes. "Is it time to trade?"

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Obadiah-theelves.png (http://s517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/?action=view&current=Obadiah-theelves.png)

"Greetings, imimina," Obadiah recalled the proper word just in time and was rewarded with the sight of the elve's eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Yes, it is."

For Broker Alath, it was a studied insult to send him in to trade with the elves. He probably expected that Obadiah would refuse, thus giving the broker an excuse to get rid of him. If so, the senior dwarf had miscalculated.

"This way," the elf indicated Obadiah should follow him deeper into the building. His two companions moved aside, and the dwarf raised his eyebrows at the swords at their belts - the mountains had to be thick with goblins this year if the elves were allowed to keep their weapons.

***

The trade goods stacked at the back of the compound, among the elven donkeys, were a... disappointment. A few musical instruments, a couple bags of dye, and bins upon bins of rope reed cloth. Nothing that the mountainhome wanted, or needed.

"If you'd have brought trained beasts, or even some Sunshine, we'd have gladly taken them," Obadiah said apologetically. As it was, even if he offered to take something, he'd most likely be overruled by Alath, who'd also relish the opportunity to appraise his apprentice of all his faults. "We will decline trade with you."

"I understand," the elf said, disappointment showing in his voice. "Perhaps we-" he was interrupted by a terrified shout from the outside.

A moment later, a large wave crashed around the corner, throwing one of the elven guards into the wall and sweeping everyone else off their feet. Obadiah felt water close over his head and flailed around in panic. His hand encountered something solid, and he latched onto it, pulling himself upwards.

He emerged on top of a cloth bin, and narrowly avoided getting his head caved in by a kick from a trashing donkey. The animals were braying wildly, there were trade goods floating everywhere around, and the water level was rising with every passing moment.

What's happening? Obadiah wondered briefly, before the sensible and pragmatic part of him, the one that was very much concerned with staying alive, screamed that he could ask that question after getting out of here right now.

"We have to get out!" he yelled at the elves, who were trying to calm down the donkeys. "We'll drown!" he added, as the water reached his waist, and started making his way towards the exit.

A body floated past him - the elf that got thrown against the wall. He wasn't moving, knocked unconscious, maybe dead. Without thinking, Obadiah grabbed him, holding his head above the water, and started dragging him along.

He had to fight to keep his footing, and by the time he reached the exit, the water was up to his chest - and more was pouring into the courtyard, over the edge of the roof above the depot.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Obadiah-fightingwater.png

"Obadiah! Help!" It was Alath, waving at him frantically from the top of one of the wagons, his cries nearly drowned out by the sound of the cart animals trying to get out of their stalls. "I'm drowning!" he cried, contrary to the fact that though dripping wet, he was in a much better position than his protege.

Another scream came from inside the inn - from the months he spent there, Obadiah knew that the doors were poorly fitted, letting cold morning air pass freely through the cracks - a path equally accessible by water. There were close to half a dozen migrants currently residing there.

"Help me!" Alath yelled again. "It's your duty as my assis- no, my, successor!"

But how? Obadiah thought furiously. The wagons would probably float, so they could just wait until the water filled the entire courtyard and then escape over the wall, but by then everyone else would be dead.

The bridge! He had to lower it. That would let most of the water drain out. Obadiah threw himself towards the lever, still dragging the unconscious elf behind him.

"Hey! Hey!!! Where are you going?!" the broker screamed shrilly as Obadiah disappeared around the corner. "Come back! How dare you abandon me? I'll die! Come back right this instant, you hear me! I will have you executed! Hey!!!"

Obadiah could see two dwarven bodies floating by the bridge mechanism. The guard, and another dwarf, both motionless. The lever itself was barely visible, only the very end still sticking out above the water. The dwarf let go of the elf and leapt towards it, throwing his entire weight against the pole.

It didn't budge.

"No!" he cried in frustration. He was going to die because of shoddy engineering. Everyone was going to die, because some arrogant son of a beardless bastard decided that noncitizens don't deserve proper dwarven craftsmanship.

But it worked fine just half an hour ago. He saw himself how the guard pulled the lever, and the bridge rose, smooth and quiet as you please. Then he secured it... in...

The security latch! It was holding the lever in place. But the release was near the ground, and by now he had to stand on tip-toe to be able to draw breath.

And he really, really wanted to live. He took a deep breath and dove.

Obadiah's beard immediately flloated up to plaster itself over his face, but that was alright, since the water was so muddy, he couldn't see anything anyway - he had to work by touch, and pain lanced through his fingers, as he missed the latch, and stuck his hands into the gearbox.

Calm down, calm down, calm down... Here was the shaft. Here's where it connected to the gearbox. About an inch above the gearbox would be the brace around the shaft. The brace was connected to the latch on both sides, but the release would be on the... right side. No, wrong right, the right from the side of the bridge, so... here.

Obadiah braced his feet against the gearbox and, the last of his air escaping from his mouth, yanked the lever towards him, and this time it obliged.

Before being swept out the gate, he still had time to realize that he, along with most of the water, would end up inside the moat.

***

That everyone survived could be considered a minor miracle, though during what followed there were times when Obadiah considered himself better off dead.

While he recovered from his ordeal - one that he survived only due to the intervention of the very same elf he dragged out of the compound, and who recovered in time to pull himself, Obadiah, the guard, and the third dwarf (who turned out to be responsible for the entire incident) out of the moat - Alath appeared before the nobility in charge of the investigation, and painted a lurid description of his craven assistant who abandoned a dwarf in need for the sake of - of all things - an elf. He was convincing enough that his now ex-) protege was dragged out of bed and, barely able to stand upright, made to hear out the sentence, every word of protest, or defense, silenced by a punch from one of the guards supporting him.

Exile.

Because he put the needs of the many before those of the few. Because he thought, instead of reacting.

On the bright side, he wouldn't have to deal with Alath anymore.



****************************************



With an official release date set to sometime during this weekend, I figured I better get my butt in gear and finish the prologue, writer's block and rough week at work be damned.

Just Derek left now, and I have most of his story written already.

Rockphed: I think prefer not to mess with the raws for the very first game I'll play with the new release.

Ok, that's a total lie. I'll probably mod in a couple things based on the direction I want the story to take, but the principle still stands.

AgentPaper: I think I may need a at least a few more words to work with, since currently I'm imagining it going like this:

Baron: Peon! Make me a circular room!
Paper: Um, ok. I'll see what I ca-
Baron: GUARDS! Seize him! Circular rooms are impossible by the very nature of our world!
Paper: Er...
Baron: I sentence you to exile for threatening the fabric of reality itself!
Paper: But-
Baron: EXILE!!!

[AgentPaper]

AgentPaper: I think I may need a at least a few more words to work with, since currently I'm imagining it going like this:

Baron: Peon! Make me a circular room!
Paper: Um, ok. I'll see what I ca-
Baron: GUARDS! Seize him! Circular rooms are impossible by the very nature of our world!
Paper: Er...
Baron: I sentence you to exile for threatening the fabric of reality itself!
Paper: But-
Baron: EXILE!!![/i]

That's essentially what I was going for, but seeing it like that it does seem a bit silly.

Okay, change it to this: He was exiled for successfully making a circular room. Which is, of course, the only thing less dwarfy than elves. (Because if you're REEEEALY drunksober, you might mistake an elf for a human, and if you're even MORE drunksober, you might mistake a human for a tall dwarf)

[Rockphed]

Ah, come on! It's actually going to be much easier than it sounds. You just need to find the dwarf raw and add a pair of square brackets in the appropriate place. However, your answer also established our world view. Dwarves in this world have no beards on their women.

[TheLogman]

Whoa, release this weekend?!

Awesome!

Also, this writing is really quite good.

[Maxymiuk]

"No, I never said getting an outpost going was easy," Obadiah shook his head calmly. "Just that it isn't as hard as people make it out to be. All you need is couple months worth of provisions and some decent tools. As long as you know what you're doing, half a year is all you need to have proper lodgings, a stable food supply, and a solid foundation for an industry."
"Yeah, right. That explains all those expeditions you never hear back from," Celes leaned forward to throw another log into the fire. "And those you do find out about are the ones that show up on your doorstep dirty, frightened, and half-starved, begging for refuge."
"There's a fair number of outposts that don't work out, I admit," Obadiah said carefully. "Mostly because they're started by amateurs. Dwarves that don't know what they're doing."
"Oh, and you're an expert then, are you?"
"Enorrigoth, Otilcatten, Borushkubuk, Nomerith, Sodelnil. The outposts I helped to get started," he added helpfully. "So yes, for lack of a better word, you could say I am an expert at 'striking the earth'."
"Never heard of them," Celes declared dismissively. "Hey, wait a moment! These all failed, haven't they?!"
"Yeeees... due to poor management, poor prioritization and, in one case, the inability to count above five. But I'm sure that if we all work to-"

"Y-you mean if we all listen to you, r-right?" Zazit spoke up from her place at the edge of the firelight. Though her teeth chattered from the cold, she staunchly refused to share the campfire with Obadiah. "W-well, you can f-forget it. I'll never f-follow an elf-lover!"
"That's not even remotely what I've meant. I just-"
"Save your lies for someone who believes them."

And with that, Zazit turned her back on him, muttering darkly to herself. After a brief moment, everyone else breathed a little easier - the last argument between those two, the very first night of their journey, ended up with the soldiers having to break up the ensuing fight - by giving everyone (whether involved or not) a thorough beating.

"Yes, with that kind of team spirit we'll be a new mountainhome by year's end," Celes shook her head at Obadiah. "I still say that our best bet is wait until our keepers bugger off, and just keep going. I heard there's dwarves in the mountains to the east - maybe they'll take us in."
"Getting there would take months. Even if that cart is stuffed with provisions, we'd run out long before getting there."
"Bound to be a few human towns along the way. We can resupply there."

Celes looked to the others for support but, as usual, Jahjah looked terrified at the very prospect of spending even more time on the surface, and Milski was suddenly very interested in the bandages on his hands. Zazit would've probably agreed with her just to spite Obadiah, but it wasn't worth the risk of setting her off. As for the others - Celes looked at the two figures on the far side of the campfire and just shook her head with a sigh.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Prologue/Derek-campsitetalk.png

"What's with the weirdo anyway?"she decided to change the topic. She looked at Milski - in their little group, he was the last to be imprisoned, so he knew the most about recent events in the mountainhome."
"What? Oh, I heard she just went crazy one day and tried to shave off-"
"No, I mean him," Celes pointed at the dwarf sitting with his back to the wagon, well outside the circle of light and warmth provided by the fire. "The volunteer."
"Oh, Derek?" Milski hesitated. "His family was killed," he said finally.
"Pff, that's it? Plenty people died in the flood. Depths take it, I think I had a cousin or two among the miners that started the whole thing," she pretended not to notice Jahjah's abrupt flinch. "But do you see me going off my rocker about it?"
"Well, you did put that carp-"
"But see, I wasn't crazy, I just hated the bloodthirsty bastard. Anyway, we're getting sidetracked," she waved her hand in agitation. "I don't think there's a dwarf who hasn't lost kin in the past few months, but you don't see anyone else freezing their tits off out here by choice, do you?"
"You misunderstood. He didn't 'lose' his family. They were killed. Hammered. And not just some cousin or other. His family. All of them."

"I mean, that's what I heard, anyway," Milski said eventually, just to break the heavy silence. "I got arrested the day after they announced the execution."
"Why were they sentenced?" Obadiah asked quietly.
"Same reason anyone was. The duke consort demanded a crystal glass table for her bedroom."
"But she only ever had one at a time hammered before... How many did you say were sentenced?
"Five," it was Jahjah who answered - it was the first time that the former miner spoke up that night. "Six, with Derek. A blacksmith family, fairly well off. Had their own forge and everything, up in the Emerald Quarter. My own father commissioned a steel pick from them," he explained, when they all stared at him, "a gift, for when I made foredwarf. I heard him say he was lucky to even get considered, they were usually so busy with contracts for the nobility and military."
"And they still got a hammering, despite the popularity?" Obadiah frowned. "That doesn't make sense. That is, even less so than usual," he corrected himself. "But that explains the crowd that showed up to see us - I mean him - off."
"Yeah," Celes nodded solemnly. "There's wrong, and then there's wrong. Oy, pass me the skin, things like that make a dwarf need a drink."

The rest responded with a chorus of quiet ayes.



**************************************************



Rember how I said that I had the bit for Derek mostly written? Well, when I went back to it, I realized it was originally written based on a set of assumptions that, over the course of writing these backstories, became invalid, one after another. So I had to write this instead.

On another note, I've decided to delay the "proper" start of the LP until at least the first bugfix update, since from reading the list of reported bugs, a lot of the features that are critical to the success of this fort are far too broken to be relied upon. If I was doing a typical embark then yes, I'd have gone ahead, come-what-may, but as it is, I don't think anyone would want to see this fortress crater within the first couple of months.

[AgentPaper]

I don't think it's so bad that you can't have a fine, functioning fortress. You may want to have the game save more often in the case of a crash*, but other than that it seems to be mostly okay, with perhaps just a few minor bugs that I haven't even really noticed.

But then, I guess it's probably a good idea to wait at least for the first patch for something as big as this, especially if it turns out that the save files become incompatible in the process of the bug fixing, or opening an old map in the new version doesn't fix the bugs.



*I've had one so far, right after some FUN came out of the truly massive cave system I dug into perhaps too quickly. :smalltongue:

[Maxymiuk]

Blah, blah, Maxy's workplace is short-staffed so he had double the typical workload the last couple months, blah, too tired to write, blah.

But with 0.31.05 out today, enough stalling. Genning a world as we speak.

...

Aaaand, first crash when I tried to export the image. It didn't save the world, of course. Let's try this again.


First "proper" update later today.

[AgentPaper]

Blah, blah, Maxy's workplace is short-staffed so he had double the typical workload the last couple months, blah, too tired to write, blah.

But with 0.31.05 out today, enough stalling. Genning a world as we speak.

...

Aaaand, first crash when I tried to export the image. It didn't save the world, of course. Let's try this again.


First "proper" update later today.

Huzzah! :smallbiggrin:

[Breltar]

Your name: Breltar
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): Farmer/Planter
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): Once said that "Elven wine isn't so bad."

[Maxymiuk]

Part 1 - Just Us



"Lurit's Tits! Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?" Celes stared at the wagon accusingly. "What is this?"
"Our supplies, I believe," Zazit muttered and blew her nose noisily.
"And this is it?!" the brewer exclaimed. "This?! This isn't what we were promised!"
"All a dwarf needs is a pick in his hand, and an ale in his stomach," Milski recited and laughed bitterly. "Looks about right to me."

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/02-Alladwarfneeds.png

"You can't be serious. This... this is ridiculous." Celes ran her hands through her hair. "A song? They equipped us based on a song!?"
"Please calm down, everyone," Obadiah's voice was steady, but with a hint of uncertainty in it. "We need to thi-"
"Calm?" Celes demanded. "You want me to stay calm when we don't have enough booze to drown a cat?!"

Everyone, including Celes, froze, as the words descended upon them like a flock of ravenous vultures, aiming straight for the liver. Obadiah suddenly remembered Nomerith, after the shoddy irrigation system flooded the crops. In a few moments someone would make a dive for the barrel, the others would follow, and there would be a brawl. Dwarves would get hurt and out here, without doctors, medicine, or even food, they would die.

He needed to say, or do something, anything before that happened.

Anything at all. He called upon his experience, the knowledge he accumulated over the years of managing outposts. The optimal course in this situation, it told him, was to use the pickaxe to dig their own graves.

"It's not a joke," someone said quietly. It took them a moment to realize that this deep, slightly hoarse voice belonged to Derek, who hardly said anything during their journey. "It's far too clever."

Derek walked pasted Obadiah, up to the wagon and laid a calloused hand on the wheel. "This is the best way to get us killed."
"Oh yeah?" Celes snorted. "Seems to me that's a lot of effort just to off a bunch of troublemakers. Why not give us the Hammerer and be done with it?"
"Because," the smith replied, "we are what happens when the hammer is used too often. It's cause and effect - the nobility does something stupid, and we protest. They punish us, and we retaliate. They kill us, and our friends and families take revenge. And, in the end, everyone is dead."
"So how is it different to send us off somewhere far away to die?" Obadiah asked. He saw what Derek was doing - pulling their thoughts away from the solitary barrel and its contents - and tried to help.
"It's just that - we're far away, where no one can see us die, where no one can grieve over our bodies and plot revenge," Derek made a long pause before continuing. "We weren't killed. We died. Due to our own incompetence, no less."
"What?!" Celes stared in disbelief. "Incompetence? Did you see] what they gave us? How could anyone survive with... with nothing!"
"A true dwarf would," something that may have been a shadow of a smile appeared on Derek's lips. "All a true dwarf needs... - that's how my grandfather used to sing that song. So no one would be surprised if we failed. In fact, they'd downright expect that to happen. After all, we're not dwarves. Not anymore."
"Sod this!" the brewer exploded. "Nobody tells me who I am. Not you, not some bloody song, and definitely not some prissy noble sitting on his high throne somewhere. I'm a dwarf! I was born a dwarf, I lived a dwarf, and I'll die a dwarf, and nobody, y'hear, nobody can make it otherwise. But that does nothing to change the fact that we have no food, no booze, no tools or weapons, and no means of getting any! So unless you can pull a larder out of your arse, I thi-"
"You know what I see?" Derek's voice was still quiet, but now there was an edge to it, that made Celes stop mid-tirade. "I see food," he looked at the draft horses that pulled their wagon, who were now rooting around in the snow, looking for grass. "I see tools," he looked at the wagon, with all its springs, nails, and bindings. "Lastly, I see someone who knows more about survival in the wild than all of us combined."

And he looked at Obadiah.

***

There was some - there was a lot of arguing. Mostly from Zazit, who loudly declared that she will never willingly follow an elf-lover. That was resolved only after Celes stuck her fist under the bonecarver's nose and growled that everyone was alright with her following Obadiah unwillingly - or taking a long hike into the woods. Zazit took one look at the snowstorm brewing on the horizon, blew her nose a couple times, and muttered something that could be construed as assent.

As for Obadiah, at first he tried to offer the role of the leader off to Derek - it was the smith who got the others to listen - but it was met with stern refusal. "We need someone who knows about running small outposts. What works, more importantly, what does not. When you talked by the campfire, I listened - you've experienced a lot of failure."
"Um... thanks?"

***

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/03-Jobs.png

"Our main problem is, you don't know anything uselful. In terms of establishing an outpost," Obadiah added quickly, as a few dwarves muttered angrily. "We lack a few professions that are considered key to becoming self-sufficient. Fisher, hunter, carpenter, most of all, farmer. We'll need to improvise and, in some cases, simply learn."
"You expect us to hunt with our bare hands? And what are we going to plant, twigs?"
"There'll be plenty of wild crops around once the snows melt."
"And when will that be?"
"No more than a month."
"Oh, is that all, then..."
"As for obtaining meat, I have a few ideas..."

***

Jahjah regarded the slope in front of him thoughtfully and gave the pick an experimental swing. It sank into the ground with a dull thud. The dwarf frowned and took a few more swings, until he felt the tip strike something hard. Feeling thankful for his pig tail gloves, with a soft leather underlay, he dug into the snow and tore away at the thin layer of soil and wilted grass, revealing pale gray rock.
"Slate."
It wasn't the ideal construction material, but it would serve. At least the stone didn't let through water, so they'd stay dry once the melts started. That was the first reason he didn't want to dig through soil, even though it would've been much faster. The other one was that they needed stone for walls, furniture, mechanisms, tools, and whatever else Obadiah could come up with.

But enough idle thoughts, the others were depending on him for providing them with shelter before the snowstorm got here. He swung the pickaxe, causing a large crack to appear in the rock.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/04-diggingin.png

He didn't know whether he'd make it in time, or if they'll freeze to death, come next morning. he didn't think they'd see the end of the month on just a one barrel of ale.

All he knew was, it felt good to have a pick in his hand again.


***


And we're off.

I wanted to post the map of the whole embark area, but the game crashes whenever I try.

The second post is now updated with information about characters and deities (since people like to know about those for some reason). Jahjah's surname is awesome. Derek's and Raroy's deity: HOW APPROPRIATE.

Next update Sunday evening or thereabouts.

[ObadiahtheSlim]

Huh, you're doing it in 40d.

[Maxymiuk]

Huh, you're doing it in 40d.

:smallconfused:

I'm pretty sure it's 0.31.05. All the new features (and all the bugs) seem to be there, at least. What makes you think otherwise?

[ObadiahtheSlim]

I saw you had 2 horses. In 31.X you get 1 draft animal unless they changed it in 31.05. 40d gave you 2 random draft animals. Was always nice when you get a breeding pair.

[Maxymiuk]

Oh snap, you caught me red-handed. :smalltongue:

I slipped in an extra horse just before embarking. Not because I needed it, but in order to maintain continuity - count the number of draft animals per wagon in the picture back in the first post. How was I supposed to know 0.31.x would reduce the number of wagon pullers?

[ObadiahtheSlim]

Question, can you turn one of those starting logs into a training axe for cutting wood? I think i remember hearing that you could do that.

[Rollory]

Yeah, the game lets you chop wood with a wooden axe right now.

[The_JJ]

Suckers! I'm the only one with a tool, ha!

And yes, I have an awesome surname.

[Celesyne]

Easy with your Taunting JahJah, or Booze might not be the only thing in your barrel next time....

[Bayar]

Your name: Jaer
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): Mechanic (and pump operator/siege engineer afterwards...maybe)
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): Was taken by a macabre mood, used a noble's corpse in crafting a mechanism.

[Talvara]

Your name: Thorik
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): HammerDwarf/Captain of the Guard
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): Thorik was sent out together with 6 brave other dwarfs to strike the earth in an area rumoured to be particularity rich in metals and gems, whether the rumours were true can't be told even to this day, What can be told however is that the area was haunted and plagued with the unliving...

After the cart had broken down and the expedition leader got promptly slain by a skeletal fox, Thorik reluctantly stepped up to fill the power vacuum. The stout dwarf vowed to lead the survivors home... The journey was hard and trecherous, three other dwarfs were lost along the way, and more if not all... would have perished if Thorik hadn't negotiated an ungodly pact with a band of kobolds.

Once back at the mountain home one of Thoriks dwarven companions had mentioned the Koboldian pact while boasting in the legendary dining-room, Needless to say... the dwarves back at the mountain homes were not amused. and after (quite skillfully I might add) All the blame for the venture was shifted onto Thorik... he was expelled "to go... 'hug' a kobold or something".

Thorik's creed: "Shame and dishonour are worth it if it saves the life of a dwarf"

[Maxymiuk]

At night they slept, huddled together in the steadily growing tunnel. By day they worked, ignoring the cold biting at their skin and the hunger crawling in their stomachs. They had next to nothing, but dwarves, of all the races of this world, were perhaps the best suited for surviving this ordeal. They had a natural affinity for improvisation, and an uncanny ability to adapt to any situation - a gift that couldn't be lost even after decades of soft living in the safety of a mountainhome.

By the end of the first day, the wagon became several neatly arranged piles of its component parts. The large boards would go towards construction, the wheel spokes would serve as handles for makeshift tools, and there were countless uses for whatever bits of metal they could peel off, or tease out of the wood.

Obadiah had been right in saying that, for the most part, their learned trades would do them little good right now. There was a mountain of work before them, and most of them would learn only by climbing it. That was the only way they could.

***

"Can you make a crossbow?"

Milski straightened with a groan. He'd been dragging the wood salvaged from the wagon deeper into the nook created by the western shoulder of the hill, where they'd be shielded from the worst of the snow. Once the underground space was expanded, it'd need to be moved inside to dry properly, but for now he turned to the dwarf who adressed him - Obadiah.

"What?"
"Do you know how to make a crossbow?" Obadiah repeated. "You said you're a weaponsmith."
"Er... sure. I learned to make every weapon. I don't see how it matters though," Milski shrugged. "I'd need a forge for that, as well as an anvil, not to mention proper tools."
"Of course. But I was thinking you could use some of that wood instead."
"Wood?"
"That's how they started out, actually. And in frontier settlements, where metal is a luxury, that's what they're usually made out of?"
"Wood?"
"I'm asking because Raroy spotted a herd of wild horses this morning, and until the snows thaw hunting is our best bet for acquiring food," Obadiah smiled weakly. "I know you're no carpenter, but you're probably the only one who would know where to even start. Can you see what you can do? I need to check on how Jahjah's doing with the digging."

"A crossbow made of wood, huh?" Milski muttered to Obadiah's back, then snorted. "Why not. Already made a sword out of stone after all."

***

Zazit grimaced when she saw who it was approaching her and laid down the chunk of slate she was hauling, adopting a challenging posture.

"What do you want, elf-lover? I'm busy."
"I need to talk to you," Obadiah sighed inwardly.
"Talk. Then get lost," she sneezed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve.
"You worked with bone, right? Do you know how to make bolts out of it? For a crossbow? We'll need them fo-"
"Yes. That's all?"
"Er, no. We don't have anyone who knows how to work with leather, but I was wandering, since you already know how to work with bits of animal, mayb-"
"Fine."
"But we- Oh, you'll do it?"
"Yes."
"And, er, you won't mind the smell? As I understand, the tanning process involv-"
"I don't," Zazit snorted and spit out a chunk of phlegm. "Maybe the smell will keep you away from me."

***

Jahjah frowned when the pick hit the wall - there was suddenly a lot more resistance, and above all, the strikes sounded different - a soft "ching" instead of a solid "chak." He ran his hand along the wall and found that a small piece of it was loose. He tore it away and walked towards the exit from the tunnel, where there was light, but even before he got there he could feel that the texture and the weight of stone was different - definitely not slate.

Exposed to daylight, the rock revealed itself to be a chunk of grayish-white crystal. Moonstone. An inexpensive gem, still valued by jewelers for its color, which went well with almost anything. He knew many traders called it a "traveler's stone" and carried moonstone trinkets as luck charms on their journeys.

He sighed and threw the piece of rock away. Their journey was over, and what they needed now was proper, solid stone. He hoped this gem cluster wasn't very large.

***

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Obadiah asked again.
"Yes," Derek nodded solemnly.
"Because if no, I can easily ask Milski for help. Or Jahjah. Or do it by myself," he hefted the crude hammer - a piece of flat-topped stone tied to a spoke with a length of leather harness - in his hand.
"I'll help."
"Are you absolutely sure? I saw how you were around those horses on the way here," Obadiah indicated the one Derek was holding, that even now was exposing its flank to him, to be petted. "You like them and they like you. All I'm saying is, maybe it's not the best idea to watch me kill one."

By a stroke of fortune the horses that pulled their wagon were a mare and a stallion - a breeding pair, and someone suggested keeping them alive for that purpose. But they needed food now, as well as the bones and leather that could be processed from the corpse. And, as Derek pointed out, with a herd of wild horses in the area, All they'd need to do was to stake out the mare in the field away from the camp and wait for one of the stallions to get interested.

Of course, deciding to butcher a horse was one thing. Doing it was a whole other matter. It would be grim and bloody work, that Obadiah decided to do himself, so he was genuinely surprised when Derek offered to help, abandoning his attempts to turn the frozen ground into a field. And, truth be told, he was glad the smith did. The horse knew something was up, and balked when Obadiah tried to lead it away to the area he assigned as the butchery. Derek calmed it down, petting it, and murmuring assurances, managing to lead it to where Obadiah waited with the hammer.

"I will not enjoy it," Derek agreed calmly, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around the horse's head, covering its eyes. "But I will stay."
"Why?"

The smith didn't answer, instead rubbing a piece of crushed mica between his thumb and forefinger, and using it to mark an "X" on the cloak covering the horse's forehead.

"Would you want to die alone?" he said finally. "Make sure you won't need to strike more than once."

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/05-firstdeath.png

***

This was the place.

Raroy walked uphill, away from the camp. She had to hurry. She'd be missed soon - with just the seven of them here, there could be no anonymity. But she needed time alone. Time to see, to hear.

Although eyes and ears didn't matter here. She felt]/i] this was the place - her place in the pattern. Right here and now, this was where she was supposed to be.

She stopped to gaze back, down into the valley. She saw snow-covered slopes and, far to the south, a forest. She would need to learn about this place, to know it as well as she knew the mineshafts back in the mountainhome. For that she would need an excuse. An explanation for long absences.

Her eyes picked out movements across the valley, on the opposite slope. The herd she spotted earlier today, no doubt searching for food, the way animals always did. They would serve. She would go back to the camp and tell Obadiah he had a hunter.

"WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME THERE WOULD BE SO MUCH [i]BLOOD?!"

But right now, she had a bit more time to look around.

***

"And I suppose you'll be wanting me to deal with this," Celes pointed at the pile of... horse littering the 'workshop'.
"Well," even though Obadiah managed to clean most of the blood off himself, but his clothes were already taking on a decidedly rusty tinge, "I thought that since-"
"Save your excuses, chief. I'll do it."
"Oh? You will?"
"Well, yeah," Celes crossed her arms on her chest. "See, I figured something out."
"Oh," Obadiah said with a sinking feeling of dread.
"As it is, I'm the only one here who knows how to set up a still. And now you want me to take care of provisioning as well. So you know what I figure?" the brewer grinned. "I figure right now I'm the most important dwarf you have."
"We all have vital jobs," Obadiah said, keeping his tone neutral. "No one dwarf can do every-"
"Right you are, chief. We're all vital, every one of us giving all they have," she nodded amiably. "At least until the booze runs out."
"Is there something you want, Celes?" he demanded a bit more harshly than he intended.
"Who? Me? No," she smiled cheerfully and turned to walk away. "Just thinking out loud here."

***

Years of traveling and studying various maps left Obadiah with a good sense of direction and a thorough knowledge of the lay of the land. Therefore, he had a good idea of where the soldiers have abandoned them, and where the nearest civilized settlement was. What he was not sure about, was whether he should tell the others about it.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/06-whereintheworld.png

Even putting aside the fact that they were technically in human lands - the only reason they didn't encounter any on the way here was because their caravan traveled in the middle of winter (which, upon reflection, was probably the entire point) - the mountain range their tiny camp was huddled up against had a... reputation. He didn't know of any goblin forts, but strange beasts roamed the foothills, and even came down to attack the human settlements to the south.

This valley seemed peaceful enough, for now, and he found himself torn between the obligation to warn the dwarves under his lead, and the fear that adding yet another worry to the mountain each of them already carried on their back would cause someone to break. No, better to keep silent for now. They had no weapons to fight back with anyway, even if they were attacked, and there was no point in having everyone jump at shadows.

He hoped this was the right decision.


**************************************


Incidentally, does anyone know whether ice will melt if you mine it out and chuck it into an underground pit? A Cold biome means the spring thaw comes roughly halfway through Slate, and while I'm pretty sure I had dwarves survive that long without drink before, that was back in 40d, so I'd like to have an emergency backup plan just in case.

And I'll have to say no to the "cut wood with wood" idea, since I'm convinced it's a bug and an unintended exploit.

And silly just to say out loud.

Next update probably sometime during next weekend.

[Bayar]

Splitting wood with wood is not all that silly though.

[factotum]

Splitting wood with wood is not all that silly though.

That would really only apply to already-fallen trees, though. I think the idea that you could chop down a tree with an axe made of wood is not that far-fetched, though--it's just that the wooden axe has to be made of a much harder wood than the tree is (e.g. you could possibly use a mahogany axe to chop down pine trees). I don't know if Dwarf Fortress actually assigns different hardness etc. to all the different kinds of wood it lets you use, though!

[Rockphed]

As far as I know, your plan to get water by chucking ice underground will not work. If you had an aquifer, that work work perfectly for getting water. If you are really fast about it, you might be able to dig down to the caves before your dwarves die of thirst and then they'll all rush down to any water down there to drink.

Otherwise, we'll probably lose 2 dwarves.

As for wood hardness, I beleive that the games tracks hardness for all forms of wood. Whether or not it has proper values entered I do not know.

[AgentPaper]

For a frozen wasteland, the best way to get water is to just dig a hole straight down to some water. Just dig stacked up/down stairs, locate the water, and then make a nice big pit from the water up to where you want your well. Just make sure you don't dig all the way up to the surface, or the square of water directly below the hole will freeze over. You can just have a well one z-level below the surface though if you don't want it going directly into your fortress. You should then follow this by sealing off the caverns with a hatch or something until you've got a military to take whatever's down there. Just make sure you don't lock anyone out. :smallwink:

[Rollory]

If you mine out ice - so it is in blocks on the floor like stone - it's useless and undrinkable. You need unmined ice walls. What you do, is dig down below the glacier, cause a part of the "under-ice" glacier to cave-in to a lower level, where (upon hitting the ground) it will promptly turn to water. If you have enough stuff between it and the sky - which probably means more than just the ice floor at the very surface - it will not re-freeze. If you don't have enough stuff, it does instantly re-freeze. So that can be a bit difficult, as glaciers are often just a few layers thick before hitting the sand or whatever beneath.

One setup I saw that worked well was like this (side view):



=X===X=
=.===.=
#..I..#
##.#.##
#..#..#
#.###.#
### ###


# is stone, = is ice walls, . is empty space you've channeled or dug out, X is the channels you dig on the surface, I is the one support (linked to a lever) holding the whole thing up until you pull said lever. The central 2x3xwhatever block then crashes downward, and the lower portions will turn to water and flow down into the side channels - under stone, so they stay liquid. The stuff left in the middle will re-freeze.

You might be able to make this more efficient in terms of recoverable ice->water conversion, this is just an example.

Oh, and add a Rollory dwarf to the list. Male mechanic and siege engineer, looking for a good place to experiment with quick-freezing water traps and devices.

[Celesyne]

Great first I have to brew up enough alchohol to keep those 6 morons nice and drunk and away from me, but now im up to my beard in horse pieces. I hope you gys like horse giblet wine and -Mystery Meat Biscuits-.

[Maxymiuk]

Why do some people seem to have the idea that we're on a glacier? The non-mountain quarter of the embark is a nice grassland with a smattering of trees. It's just that everything's buried under a pile of snow. There's even a stream out there, for cripes sake.

So no, tunneling under a glacier won't work, since we don't have one.

[Rockphed]

But digging straight down might. The top cavern layer is probably 20 - 30 levels down, and it might not have any water anywhere near where you are, and you don't have rope or chain to make a well anyway, so you would need to actually get down next to the water.

We're going to hope you last until the thaw.

[Rollory]

Why do some people seem to have the idea that we're on a glacier?

Because TLDR.


There's even a stream out there, for cripes sake.

Well there you go. Dig under the frozen stream, cave-in the ice from the stream into an underground chamber as described previously, you have water until the stream thaws. If there are frozen pools, you can do the same with them.

[Maxymiuk]

Working on the next update now, it'll be up no sooner than tomorrow night though.

I'm just making this post to say that, by applying the scientific method, I found out that ice indeed does melt when you put it in an interior tile.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/07-icedoesmelt.png

Though the "water" doesn't flow and I think it might be flagged as an item rather than a liquid (I can forbid/claim/dump it). Let's wait and see if the dwarves will attempt to drink it.

[Cobalt]

Let's wait and see if the dwarves will attempt to drink it.

I can only make a guess: Hilarity ensues.


And because it just wouldn’t be right if I didn’t; my immigration files:

Your name: Cobble.
Your preferred gender: Male.
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): Miner.
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): Someone called attention to his over-condescending attitude and tendency to give snarky remarks to the most mundane of comments, usually ones made by his superiors. That, and he was untidy.

[Rollory]

That's what I said.


If you mine out ice - so it is in blocks on the floor like stone - it's useless and undrinkable.

The blocks melt and turn into those items, which the game doesn't recognize as drinks. (Unless he changed the behavior in 31, but I am pretty sure not)

[Rockphed]

Your name: Cobble.
Your preferred gender: Male.
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): Miner.
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): Someone called attention to his over-condescending attitude and tendency to give snarky remarks to the most mundane of comments, usually ones made by his superiors. That, and he was untidy.

Based on your name, I was expecting rumors of spending too much time talking about Kobolds.

[Cobalt]

Based on your name, I was expecting rumors of spending too much time talking about Kobolds.

I actually had a back-up back-story that involved Kobolds, but I felt that it gave too much justified reason to be kicked out by the nobles. Smack talk is much more rediculous.

[The_JJ]

Alright, let's start taking bets on who dies first. :smalltongue:

[Rockphed]

I actually had a back-up back-story that involved Kobolds, but I felt that it gave too much justified reason to be kicked out by the nobles. Smack talk is much more rediculous.

Unless the problem was that you claimed to have killed a dozen kobolds and nobody believed you or nobody cared.

[factotum]

Well there you go. Dig under the frozen stream, cave-in the ice from the stream into an underground chamber as described previously, you have water until the stream thaws.

Once the thaw happens won't that underground chamber get flooded? And when the stream re-freezes, would the water in the chamber also freeze because it's now connected to it? (I know in real life you'd expect a layer of ice to have liquid water under it, but this ain't real life :smallsmile:).

[Rollory]

Once the thaw happens won't that underground chamber get flooded? And when the stream re-freezes, would the water in the chamber also freeze because it's now connected to it? (I know in real life you'd expect a layer of ice to have liquid water under it, but this ain't real life :smallsmile:).

I actually did the experiment in a previous fort - the surface water freezes, and maybe the water directly under it, the stuff under stone doesn't.

Anyway it doesn't matter so much - you just need something to drink and irrigate with while it's cold, by the time summer is over you probably have set up a more permanent reservoir with better flow control.

[Maxymiuk]

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/08-firstpropermeal.png

"Enjoy your meal," Celes's tone of voice suggested trouble for anyone who wouldn't.

The brewer turned cook needn't have worried. It was meat, it was cooked and, above all else, it was hot. After two weeks of eating raw bits of meat - for that was how long it took her to set up something resembling a stove, scavenge branches and dead wood, thaw it, dry it, and get Raroy to carve several large chunks of galena (and that was when she wasn't busy chiseling blocks of slate into something resembling tables and chairs) which Jahjah mined out into serviceable pots and bowls - she could've burned the meal beyond recognition, and the others still would've eaten it.

"What's in the stew?" Obadiah asked, once they satiated the worst of their hunger. "If you don't mind betraying trade secrets, that is."
"Guts," Celes said flatly.
"Oh."
"My stove is junk," she made a face. "It doesn't heat evenly, so innards stew is all you're getting for now. You'll have proper roast once it comes out differently than half-raw, half-charred."
"We'll be thankful for anything you can make for us," Obadiah said quickly.
"Not like you have a choice, do you now?"
In any case, I would like to make an announcement," he banged his mug on the table two times for attention. Everyone's heads turned to him. "I've, er, been counting days. Since our departure from Mersethzuglar that is."
"You mean us getting booted out to die."
"We've been doing quite well avoiding that, I think."
"Yeah, well, once the booze runs out. Only what, a fifth of the barrel left?"
"In any case, according to my count, we have arrived here on the first of Granite," he made a significant pause."
"So?" Celes shrugged. Most of the others also didn't seem to see anything special about the fact.
"So it's the first day of spring, as well as the first day of a new year," Obadiah explained patiently. "The time of rebirth, of returning life, of new beginnings. Doesn't this seem significant somehow?"
"He means the spring thaws are coming," they turned to look at Derek - the smith spoke so rarely that it still took others a moment to realize who the voice belonged to. "We will be able to catch fish, and gather plants."
"Well, yes, but what I also meant was-"

But that was a leap of logic that everyone could make. Plants meant brewing. Brewing meant booze. Booze meant happiness. An excited mutter went up, and expectant faces turned to Celes, who threw her hands up in protest.

"Have you lot seen what our still looks like? That's right, you haven't, because we don't have one. Rocks won't work here - they absorb liquids too well, you can't make pipes out of them, and they heat up too slowly. If you want a proper brewery, you get me a proper copper still," she regarded their disappointed expressions for a long moment, before twisting her mouth into a smile. "I'm not saying I can't make any. Distilling's not the only way. Just the fastest one. You'll get your beer. But don't expect it'll be fast."

***

This place... no, for the moment, she had more important things on her mind.

The snow covering the valley was heavy, densely packed. It's been here all winter, melting on sunny days, freezing again during the nights, then being covered by a new layer. It was easier to walk on than if it were freshly fallen, but Raroy, used to the hard, flat floors of dwarven tunnels, still struggled to move faster than at a crawl.

She winced as the crossbow banged against her hip, which by now was one massive bruise, and cursed Zazit, the one responsible for making the crooked harness for the weapon and the quiver (which was, at the same time, rubbing her other hip raw). At the same time, she knew she had only herself to blame for volunteering as the group's hunter. But she thought Obadiah would've let her wait until the snows thawed before going off.

But no, "these are horses, Raroy," he said. "They move around a lot, especially in winter, when food is scarce." So off she went, tracking the herd along the western edge of the valley.

Following the horses was hardly any effort - the herd's tracks were perfectly visible in the otherwise undisturbed snow. Even with her lack of experience Raroy could tell where the horses walked, where they ran, and where they stopped for awhile to root through the snow in search of something edible. Her problem was, she didn't know how fresh this tracks were. They migh as well have been made ten minutes ago, as yesterday. And the latter was far more likely, given the speed of her progress. And she just had enough food for-

Did something move up on that ridge? She stopped and rubbed her eyes furiously - yet another problem was the sun reflecting off the snow, leaving Raroy half-blind at the best of times. Yes, something was definitely moving up there - some four-legged animal. Despite herself, Raroy felt her hands start to shake as she unslung her weapon and groped for a bolt. Milski showed her how to string and load a crossbow, then had her repeat the action until she could do it in her sleep. Then, after a talk with Obadiah, had her do it while running full-tilt around the camp.

"That's how hunters work," Obadiah explained, when she tried to call quits after tripping and nearly impaling herself on a bolt for the dozenth time. "The best they can hope for is a single shot from cover, and that's if they can sneak up on their prey. If they miss and the animal flees, they have to chase it, loading and shooting on the run."

She pulled out a bolt and placed it in the nook. No, wrong! First you draw back the horse sinew string. Hook it on the... the nut. This will cause the trigger to emerge from its slot in the bottom of the stock - it took Milski three days to cobble together a working mechanism from the nails salvaged from the wagon. Now slide the bolt into the nook. The bolts are pale white, made of the horse's ribs, which Zazit somehow straightened out, filed down to proper length, and adorned with horse mane fletching. Milski still got into an argument with her about these bolts, saying they were too thick and too light to be accurate over long distances. Zazit responded that Raroy was a bad enough shot that she'd need to get close to her targets anyway. "If you can make better ones, go ahead. Think you can manage without a forge, smith?"

Now to sneak up on the herd. If she went up the steeper slope, she'd stay out of their sight for the entire way. But it was steep, and covered in ice, as well as snow. She didn't think she could manage it with just one hand free. No, she'd strike off west for half a mile, then make her way up the far gentler incline, approaching the herd from the south. She'd be far easier to see if one of the horses wandered up to the ledge, but she'd move a lot faster and, hopefully, get in range before that happened or, even worse, the herd decided to move on again.

***

The next morning, Raroy stumbled back into camp, just as the others were waking up, complaining about stiff muscles and the hard, uneven floor of their little cavern. Exhausted, half-frozen, and wild-eyed, she brushed past Zazit, who ran up to help, and headed straight for Obadiah.
"You'n me," she muttered, latching onto the sleeve of his robe with ice-cold hands, "we talk."

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/09-boned.png


*****************************


Excitement!

Far shorter than intended, since I suddenly found out that I have to take an earlier shift at work, i.e. I need to get to bed sooner. The main thing I didn't have time to write about was... well, we'll get to that. It's a good thing though.

Next update... hell if I know. This entire next week will be absolute murder at work, then I'm travelling during the weekend. Although... what do you guys think about me writing very short (as in, a couple paragraphs, mostly focusing on one character, or event) updates that will hopefully happen more often? With longer writeups reserved for weekends, or whenever I have actual free time?

[BlackSheep]

You write so well that short, frequent updates would be even more entertaining than longer episodes once a week.

[Breltar]

You write so well that short, frequent updates would be even more entertaining than longer episodes once a week.

Agreed. Short ones are fine.

[Bayar]

You write so well that short, frequent updates would be even more entertaining than longer episodes once a week.

Thirded. :smallbiggrin:

[Rockphed]

I wonder if you can actually get the bones out of skeletal corpses. I know it is now very hard to use the bones of your enemies as weapons.

[factotum]

Pretty sure you can't--you only seem to be able to get usable bones by butchering a non-rotten corpse.

[Maxymiuk]

The moonstones could've happened to anybody. That first vein of galena was just pure chance. The second one, struck when digging out the kitchen, was a geological oddity. The third one, the one he found just a few feet into the planned quarry, was just impossible. Jahjah stopped his work, headed outside and, muttering curses under his nose, headed across the valley.

"It's ridiculous, is what it is," he complained much later, when a good portion of the surrounding hillsides have been deprived of their snow and soil cover and the others, after practically dragging him back inside were trying to force some hot stew into him. "Absolutely nonsensical."
"Sure it is," Celes patted his back comfortingly, "almost as ridiculous as our only miner almost freezing to death from playing in the snow all day."
"I mean, there's galena all over the place," Jahjah started counting on his frostbitten fingers. "Horn silver just east of our camp, limonite deposits in the streambed, and there's so much magnetite in the western slopes, that if we had any iron, I don't think we could keep a hold on any of it. I'm sure I saw a tetrahedrite vein in there somewhere. And get this, there's not one, but two coal veins just across the stream. And I'm not even counting all the gemstones just lying around!"
"That's all very nice and all, but if you don't start eating now, I'm going to force this stew into you through the other end. Along with the bowl."

The threat worked - for about three spoonfulls worth.

"And that's just the stuff one the surface. When I think about what we'll run into once we dig deeper into the rock - or lower... There's years, decades, centuries worth of ore here," the miner shook his head. "Where does it all come from? Back home we'd dig for months before running into something, and that something was usually microline. Here I just need to swing my pick in a random direction. It's not right."
"Jahjah, Mersethzuglar had been around for a long time," Obadiah said gently. "It's only natural that ore would run scarce. And new outposts usually do have abundant resources close by. That's the main reason anyone founds them."
"But it's not right," Jahjah repeated, shaking his head again. "It's just too much."

[Rockphed]

Ah, I see the new resource levels are driving you batty, as is right and proper.

[Raroy]

I never have anything to say in threads but lame compliments so.... You're doing a pretty good job here.

[Maxymiuk]

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/10-smithturnedfarmer.png

What does a blacksmith know of farming?

"You dig furrows in the ground," Obadiah had said," and you drop the seeds in them. Cover them up, and a couple months later you harvest the crops." Derek suspected this described farming in the same way that "heat bits of metal and hit them with a hammer" was an accurate portrayal of smithing.

He made himself a hoe, with a wheel spoke for a handle and the bronze clasp they pulled off the end of the tongue for the head, hammered flat with a rock. He used the hoe to gouge the frozen soil, to tear into the ground, carving out his field well before the thaw arrived, as once the meadows would be clear of snow, it would be his task to scour them for wild crops to tame much as he now tamed the earth. And as his muscles worked, so did his mind.

How deep should the furrows be? How far apart shall he plant the seeds? Shall they be covered, or left to the weather? Will they need water, and how much was enough? How did one tell a plant was ripe for picking? How did one tell it was healthy to eat? Would there be pests, like the rats in their food store? And a hundred more questions he would not think to ask.

He'd learn by doing. He'd leave some deep, some shallow, water those, keep the others dry. He'd see what worked, and repeat it next season.

There would be a next season. The nobles would not win.


***********************************


There will be a longer update sometime this weekend, where we finally get to "proper" spring.

And feel free to tell me when/if the narration starts dragging on too much. I'm trying to focus on things that I see most community forts gloss over in their rush to get to the interesting bits (i.e. megaconstructions and MAGMA) - I'm challenging myself to see if I can make simple stuff, like carving out a room, or butchering a horse, sound interesting, but it does make for a glacial pace of advancement.

[Maxymiuk]

This post brought to you by the new and shiny 31.08


************************************


The ale ran out on the twenty third day.

Celes scrubbed out the barrel with a few handfuls of snow, and placed it back with the other one, the one Milski cobbled together back when they still expected the snow to let up after a few days. That's where the first batch of booze was going to mature while they finished off what they brought with them.

They didn't talk about it - what was there to say? They went about their tasks, purposefully ignoring the empty barrels in the corner of the chamber. One could almost say they went out of their way not to look at them.

Raroy's discovery of undead creatures in the valley provided a much-needed distraction, unwelcome as it was, on top of all their other problems. It took the form of heated debates, as Celes voiced doubt regarding what exactly the carver saw, or whether such things could even exist. Evening meals turned into loud arguments, with Jahjah and Zazit usually taking the cook's side, while Obadiah cited his experiences at other outposts in support of Raroy's testimony.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/11-fortifyingthecamp.png

Regardless, everyone agreed that it would be a good idea to fortify the encampment. Jahjah, acting under Obadiah's orders, had already turned the slopes of their hollow into sheer walls two weeks earlier, making the camp approachable only from the south. Now the dwarves set to constructing a wall across that approach, and tearing down the temporary workshops beyond this new perimeter - most of them were currently unused, and could be quickly rebuilt if needed.

The ground Derek had cleared for farmland would find itself far beyond the wall. Temporarily, as Obadiah was quick to assure everyone. There was no question that they'd need crops to survive, but for them to be able to plant safely, a second wall would need to be erected, encompassing a much larger area, and that would have to wait until the stream thawed, creating a natural barrier between the camp and the western part of the valley - just one more reason, aside from thirst, to be impatient for spring to come.

***

"Stream's thawed," Raroy said, walking into the camp. After a a moment of stunned silence, everyone rushed outside - only to be greeted with the familiar expanse of snow and ice. "Not here," the carver added, walking up behind them. "South. Three hours' walking."

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/12-partialthaw.png

Three hours later Raroy led Milski and Celes - the two who could be spared from the construction work - to where the stream had indeed thawed. It was an eerie sight: here, there was ice hidden under a thick cover of snow, and there, water flowed freely, shimmering merrily in the afternoon sun.

They dropped to their knees and drank. The water was tooth-achingly cold, and, more importantly, was not alcohol, but as far as quenching thirst went, it was still worlds better than eating snow.

"Why here and not by the camp?" Milski wanted to know. "It'll be a walk and a half just to get a drink."
"Beats me," Celes shrugged. "Why don't you ask our know-it-all leader? I bet he'll have an answer for you. It might be a bunch of superstitious nonsense, but he'll have one," she glanced at Raroy, who appeared not to have heard her, despite standing just a few paces away. "Probably something about how there's these water spi-"
"Shh!"

Celes gaped at the weaponsmith, momentarily dumbstruck - no one shushed her, especially not in the middle of a sentence. But Milski wasn't even looking at her, his attention absorbed by something in the water. He leaned forward slowly, extending his hand, then suddenly plunged it under the surface, in an arc at the end of which something large, red, and glistening shot out of the stream and landed on the shore.

"Grab it! Quick!" Milski jumped after the fish that flopped maddly along the ground, trying to get back into the water. He threw himself after the salmon - for it was a salmon, and a rather large specimen - but it slipped out of his hold and jumped in Raroy's direction. Raroy jumped back, flailing madly, her hand, by sheer chance, colliding with the fish and sending it flying back in Milski's direction who, unprepared for such a development, intercepted it with his face. He went down, and the salmon flopped over him, suddenly with only a few feet between it and the freedom of the stream.

Then Celes brained it with a rock.

She hit the salmon a couple more times, until it stopped twitching, then calmly picked it up and started walking in the direction of the camp.

"Hey. Hey!" Milski yelled, in-between spitting out scales. "Where are you going? That's my fish! I caught it!"
"And I killed it," Celes called over her shoulder. "So I get to eat it."
"Oh no you don't! Hey! Get back here, you hear?" the weaponsmith got up and ran off after her. "You get back here with my fish!"

Raroy sighed, and started to follow them, then turned towards the streambank. If she concentrated, she could see hints of silvery bodies slipping through the current. She took out a bolt from the quiver and tested the point thoughtfully, and made a few quick stabbing motions. Then she crouched down and waited.

***

"Today, by my count, is the eleventh day of Slate," Obadiah declared loudly, stopping in the camp's gate. "Let this be known as the day we defeated winter. Let this be known as the first day of spring!"

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/13-11thofslate.png

"Stream's still frozen," Zazit grunted, shouldering past him with another block of stone meant for the wall. "Get out of the way."
"But now that the fields are clear of snow, there is no question about the ice melting as well," Obadiah stepped aside with a broad smile on his face. "Soon we'll have water aplenty, right under our noses."
"I hope you mean booze aplenty," Celes walked up behind them, then turned to call out towards the cavern, "Hey, farmerboy! Time to earn your keep! Get out here and start picking flowers!"

***

In the end, it was three of them that went out searching for plants: Obadiah, because he had a rough idea of where suitable plants would usually grow, Celes, because she handled surface crops in the breweries and had a vague recollection of how they looked, and Derek, because he'd be the one replanting them eventually.

Ten days later the stream was still frozen, and their collective effort has resulted in a clump of bladelike weed, which turned out useless, and a handful of thorny berries.

"I can squeeze these into wine," Celes looked at them disdainfully. "But you," she jabbed her finger at Derek, "you get out there and find more, you hear?"

He nodded and left.


*******************************************


FYI, I'm not making Celes out to be such a harpy on purpose. The shenenigans at the stream were purely artistic license, but they were inspired by the fact that when Milski, so proud of catching his first fish, brought it in, cleaned it, and dropped it off in the food stockpile, it instantly got snatched up by Celes, who proceeded to chow down before I had a chance to tell her to cook it. Shame on you, Celes.

Somewhat amusingly, I had a snowstorm announcement pop up two days before the thaw. So right now everything is becoming white all over again.

I'm encountering so many veins in my designated quarry, that I'm actually running out of stone. Seriously considering allowing use of raw ores in construction work.

[Bayar]

Some raw ores look awesome. Cobalt trading depots are badass.

[AgentPaper]

I think you really should check out some of the better graphics options for your screenshots. Even just Maygreen would help a lot, but you could also go for something like Stonesense (http://df.magmawiki.com/index.php/Utility:Stonesense) (isometric) or even one of the 3d visulaizers, like Visual Fortress (http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=39541.0), though that's more useful to show mega-projects, since it doesn't show dwarves.

[Maxymiuk]

Is Stonesense 31.X compatible already?

I might try it, but I can already give you a definite no on graphic sets. All the ones I've seen to date are far too busy visually. I actually like the simplicity of the default graphics.

[AgentPaper]

Eh, honestly the default graphics look more busy visually to me. But if you're willing to try out stonesense, then no complaints from me! :smallbiggrin:

[Celesyne]

Wow, I am a B#$@!, and I love it! Screw the rest of you guys, I'm surviving.

[Rollory]

Having gotten over the TL and taken the time to R, I agree, this isn't bad. Also, I changed my mind, I want my dwarf to be a fortress guard, when or if that gets established.

[Maxymiuk]

Telling them that it wasn't even alcohol yet didn't work, and neither did threatening that in its current state, the drink would twist their insides into knots. In the end Celes had to start sleeping in the kitchen to make sure no one drank the wine until it matured.

"And Lurit help me, if I catch any of you down there, I'll cut off your feet and feed them to you!"

Even so, she still didn't dare to wait longer than the bare minimum of time for the berry juice to ferment. A month without alcohol had everyone on edge, and with a barrel of it just downstairs, that they were forbidden to touch, would end up in a riot sooner rather than later.

So, on the 25th of Slate (as Obadiah informed everyone), she hauled the barrel up to the main chamber when everyone was out working, uncorked it, poured it into mugs, and left them on the table. Then she went back downstairs, taking one with her. There she sat and drank the wine, wincing at the sour taste, and waiting for the fun to start.

***

"I know I said we need to protect ourselves," Obadiah said, "but I'm no longer sure we should wall ourselves in like this."

He was watching Jahjah some distance away, who's been setting up a counterweight system for the camp gate, and was currently cursing loudly after dropping a rock on his foot.

"There are disadvantages," Derek replied, without looking up from the seeds he was sorting into small piles. Obadiah waited for him to continue, but the smith remained focused on his work.
"It feels wrong," he said finally. "I'm sure the walls are fine, but there's all this open space, and there's this slope above us... What if a goblin bowman snuck up there? He'd have a clear shot at anyone in the courtyard. Or what if an avalanche comes down? Or a flood? All the outposts I worked in did things the proper way: dig in, get the supplies inside, and seal off the exits until the caravan arrived," he looked at Derek, who has started to poke holes in the ground with a sharpened stick. "That's how it should be. Dwarves belong underground, where it's safe. The deeper, the better."
"We're not dwarves," Derek dropped a couple seeds into the first hole, before moving on to the next. "We're exiles."


**************************************


We're almost up to summer by now. The undead seem to have moved on for now, which is a relief. Booze situation is improving - we could have three varieties by now, if I could get more barrels somehow. Stream is still partially frozen, which makes me doubtful whether those parts (including the one right next to the camp) will ever unfreeze. But I think we'll manage to pull through.

Bayar: interestingly enough, there is an exposed cobalt vein near the camp. Though I still prefer olivine, I think.

Rollory: Sure thing, though I don't recall you actually submitting a dwarf *checks notes* Nope, unless I somehow missed you, in which case I apologize. Also, glad you enjoy the story.

[Maxymiuk]

On a sidenote I started writing this update at 09:00. I finished at 23:30 (add half an hour for proofreading and some quick edits). Staying with your family isn't very conductive to the creative process is what I'm saying.


*****************************************


Obadiah had some qualms about asking Jahjah to dig a small room to serve as his office. Technically it was his priviledge as a leader, but in their situation privacy could be seen as a blatant luxury, and he wasn't sure how others would react.

He decided the proper thing to do would be to explain to everyone the reason he needed it, and ask what their opinion was. First he went to Derek, who politely asked him to stop trampling his fields. Next was Celes, who yelled that she had enough of being constantly interrupted in her own kitchen and threatened him with a ladle. On his way out, he ran into Zazit, who ignored him and disappeared into her craftshop with an armful of bone. He went out of the camp, and found Milski's fishing spot. The weaponsmith just waved him away impatiently, whispering that he was scaring away the fish. And Raroy had left the camp yesterday - she'd spotted the horse herd moving through the valley again and went after them, crossbow in hand.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/15-Obadiahsoffice.png

So now he had an office, dug out by Jahjah, who immediately went down into his quarry to continue working his way around the "useless" ores in search for stone. The room had a hard chair, a rough table, and even a door, made by Milski inbetween his fishing trips - as well as two large lumps of galena that no one could be bothered with moving anywhere. But that didn't bother him: now he had a place where he could do his own work - organizing.

Parchment was, of course, just another item on the long list of things they didn't have. But he already had an idea on how to get around that little inconvienience.

***

On the sixth of Hematite - the sixth day of summer - they were woken by loud cracking and rumbling coming from right outside the camp. Alarmed, they ran out, thinking it to be an avalanche or, worse, an attack, but the walls were whole, and the slopes free of movement. It wasn't until they ventured outside the camp that they saw the source of the noise: large chunks of ice floating down the stream, breaking apart as they crashed into one another.

The thaw had finally arrived.

***

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/14-fishingbridgeopening.png

"So, uh, basically, Obadiah told me we need safe access to water," Jahjah was visibly uncomfortable with speaking in front of the group. "So, uh, I built this."

"This" was, essentially, a drawbridge that, when raised, wasn't very different from the rest of the wall, and when lowered, it turned into a platform hanging just over the water's surface, reaching barely a quarter of the way across the stream.

"We can take water from here. We can fish from here. And, uh, when the stream freezes again, we can just raise it back up."
"But I already have a place to fish!" Milski protested. "It's my favorite spot. They practically fall into my hands there."
"Your 'spot' is half an hour's walking from the camp, Milski," Obadiah countered calmly. "If anything were to attack you, we wouldn't even hear you calling for help. It's safer inside the walls."
"Like what?" the fisher demanded. "Rats? Bluejays? Horses? Or maybe the dead goats our hunter saw once?"
"How about a pack of wolves? Or a bear? Or giant eagles?" Obadiah retorted. "We're in the mountains here. And if we haven't seen a single predator yet, it's because we've been damned lucky. No, it's too risky," he shook his head. "We stay inside the walls unless we have to."

***

The leaves on this berry bush were turning yellow, and Derek didn't know why. It wasn't dryness - this part of the field, he watered every day. He picked a leaf and rolled it between his fingers, then broke it in half - no, it was still tough and flexible, and the inside was moist. It felt strong and healthy. But it was yellow.

"Ho, farmsmith."

He looked up to see Celes approaching from the direction of camp proper. He raised his hand in greeting, then went back to inspecting the bush.

"Like it?" she asked, stopping right next to him. "Figured I'll start calling you that. Since that's what you are, right?. Smith turned farmer. You got fields for a forge, and you make fruit instead of horseshoes."

Derek picked a berry from the afflicted bush and bit it carefully.

"Anyway, I came to ask when I can expect the next crop to show up in my kitchen. The lifeblood's running low again - I swear, the lot of them drink like they want to go sober for another month."

"These will be ripe in three, four days," Derek indicated the bushes behind him.

"Oh? Maybe we'll actually last that long, then," Celes pointed at the yellowing bush. "What's wrong with this one?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? Wonderful. Some farmer you are," she rolled her eyes. "So you're saying all this could be withering before our eyes, and all you'd do would be to shrug helplessly. And here I was actually starting to respect you."
"I will find out what's wrong."
"Well now, that's a relief. Took a weight right off my heart, you did," Celes smirked humorlessly. "Tell you what, I'll leave you to it and head back to the kitchen. I need to find out whether your dinner will have anything in it except grit."

She turned and strode away. Derek looked after her for a moment, then turned to the berry bush again. Maybe he couldn't see what was wrong because it was hidden. Plants had roots. If he-

"Hey, farmsmith!"

He looked up, to see Celes grinning at him from the entrance to camp proper.

"If I throw a rock at you, will that get a reaction?"

***

Zazit looked up sharply when she heard steps in the tunnel. No one, except for her, had cause to come into the craftshop. The few that did, learned quickly that their presence was unwelcome and undesired. Even Celes departed in haste after Zazit begun to hum joyously to herself while drumming on the horse skull with two cannon bones.

She now ascertained that the skull was within easy reach, and looked to the tunnel, ready to challenge the intruder. A shadow loomed in the entrance, that upon entering the workshop proved to be... a dwarf?

It was Raroy. But it was Raroy that appeared to have been dragged through miles of forest floor, Raroy caked in mud, twigs, and grass, to the point where only the intense jade of her eyes made her recognizeable, Raroy half-dead from exhaustion, and wholly ready to fall asleep upon the very spot where she stood.

The huntress crossed the workshop, apparently without even noticing Zazit, unfastened the harness, and threw the quiver into the ammo store. She turned towards the exit, but after two steps stopped, squinting at something on a shelf behind Zazit.

"'ere," she mumbled, "th'se... are those Fortress Defense pieces?"

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/16-Zazitscreations.png

"You making a set?"
"Maybe," Zazit gathered the figurines to herself protectively. "So what if I do? Elf-lover's too afraid of me to give me enough work. Got to do something to keep myself busy. Besides, we'll need goods for the autumn caravan. What will we trade them, Derek's trousers?"

A tired chuckle escaped Raroy's mouth. "Not funny. Got th'rest?"
"Not yet. I just started," Zazit frowned. "And bone's not a proper material for them anyway. Need stone or steel for dwarves. Iron or copper for humans. And elves just don't feel right unless they're wood."
"Could make a frontier set," the huntress stifled a yawn. "Dwarves'n'monsters. Stone'n'bone. For small forts, traders. Can't afford full one, no room to carry."
"Just dwarves and monsters? One round? Ridiculous!" Zazit scoffed. "That's completely unbalanced - dwarves win every time!"
"Double the monsters," Raroy shrugged. "Works fine."
"But... hey!" the carver startled. "You know how to play? You?"
"Used to. Still do. Helped on couple sets."
"Dwarves?"
"Dwarves."
"Uh... erm..." Zazit struggled with voicing her idea for a long moment, while Raroy struggled to keep her eyes open. "Do you think you could, well... assist me? I fear me and stone are like... like..."
"Dwarves'n'water?"
"Exactly!"
"Sure. Just not," this time she couldn't stop the protracted yawn. "Not now."
"Great," the carver clapped her hands in excitement. "Maybe we'll even play a few rounds before we sell it off. What do you say? Raroy?"

But no answer came. Raroy had fallen asleep on her feet.


*******************************************


Picking too many flowers may spontaneously change the color of your clothes - little-known fact of dwarven life.

Day one relationship matrix was... unusual, in the context of the personalities I've created for the dwarves in the prologue, and it's only becoming more so as time goes on. If anyone wants, I can post the full chart later.

Stonesense is currently compatible only up to 31.05 and we're on 31.08 right now, so I can't even use it just yet. And, aside from the reason I've already given, I prefer to stick to default graphics because I can manipulate them slightly with AsciiDraw to get chosen dwarves gathered in one spot, like I did for the fishing bridge "opening", or for the group meal scene earlier.

Did hunger/thirst counters get readjusted in the new version? I think I'm on the fourth barrel of booze already, and we're only 3.5 months in.

And does anyone know how to stop Raroy from trying to beat horses to death with her crossbow? She's slow, weak, and puny, and I gave her those bolts for a reason. :smallannoyed:

Finally, if anyone feels that I'm taking their character in the wrong direction, or has suggestions on what I should aim for, feel free to let me know through posts, PM's, or otherwise (I'm told in-character journals are the usual way reader interaction takes place, though we seem to lack a credible source of paper at the moment). I hope this to become a true community fortress, where everyone gets to participate in its development in some way.

[factotum]

How are you planning to handle the trade depot? There doesn't seem to be any obvious three-square wide entryway to your fortress to place it!

[Maxymiuk]

Today was going to be another update, but I ran into the infamous "why the hell are there suddenly 20 migrants on my doorstep" bug. I kinda hoped this would've been fixed by now, especially since I've set my population cap to 0 (I've since tried reverting to the last save a few times, with the cap set anywhere between 1 and 7, to no result).

I know part of the charm of DF is the curveballs it continually throws you, but I'm having serious trouble justifying (within the context of this story) the sudden tripling of this fort's population. If these were two or three migrants, I'd have likely said fine and rolled with it. But not ten or twelve.

I apologize for any incurred disappointment. If anyone needs me, I'll be over there, trying to find a workaround.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/18-undeadreappear.png


Hmmmmmm....

[ObadiahtheSlim]

Kill them off quietly and pretend like they never showed up.

[Breltar]

Another separate band of exiles that just happened to end up in the same area?


Another fortress that fell apart a few miles away and everyone scattered and happened to find yours?

Shipwreck (if close to coast) or waylaid on the road and ran around in the wilds forever till they found your fortress?

[Bayar]

Refugee exiles wandering after their fortress succumbed to darkness or something.

[AgentPaper]

Maybe things aren't going so well back at the fortress, lots of people are bailing/being exiled and heading for other fortresses. This batch is part of that, heard that there was a fortress out here but not that it was a just-established one with only 7 people in it.

[Maxymiuk]

This strawberry patch had too little water and, worse yet, he had been too busy with tending to the berry bushes and the long grasses that Celes said would make a decent beer. He did his best to fix the mistake, but by now more than half the plants were dried out, dead - another poor crop.

"Ho there, the camp!"

Derek stood up. The greeting came from outside the wall. But Raroy was recovering after her latest unsuccessful hunt, and no one else had any work in the valley, thus the gates were kept closed, by Obadiah's orders - for everyone's safety.

He looked around, but there was no one else in the courtyard at the moment. He took a few steps towards the main hall, but changed his mind and ran up to the stairway leading up the high shoulder that they've incorporated into their defenses - Obadiah had plans to eventually build a lookout tower up there. But even now the rise offered a clear view of anyone approaching the gate.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/19-arrivals.png

***

While Obadiah talked with the arrivals, the rest of them gathered around the table, waiting and drinking beer.

"But they are asking that we let them in, right?" Celes wanted to know.
"They need a safe place to rest," Derek said. "We have walls."
"Aye, and a larder," she snorted, "that doesn't need a bunch of freeloaders raiding it. Do you know how much food we have left?"
"We'd like to know, believe me," Milski said, coming back to the table with a fresh round of mugs. "But you don't let anyone go down into the food stores."
"And that's why we have anything left at all," Celes smiled broadly. "We'd have all starved long ago if you lot could just come in and grab a snack whenever you bloody well wanted. My point is," she waved her arm to keep them quiet, "we don't have anything to spare, and they don't have anything to pay with. Or do they?" she looked at Derek.
"They have a foal and a calf with them. One carries a pick. Another - an axe."

The contemplative silence that followed was broken by the arrival of Obadiah.

"Alright, they're waiting for our decision," he said the moment he dropped into his seat. "so let's get this started. Obvious questions first. Who are they and what are they doing here. They're migrants - or, at this point, I should say, refugees, trying to make it back home. What are they doing here. They've tried to shorten their route by traveling south-west across the Worried Spikes and ran into trouble along the way."
"What kind of trouble?"
"They say they were attacked by u- monsters a few nights ago," Obadiah looked at Celes, who smiled and shrugged. "There were originally twelve of them, but they've scattered during the attack, and only these four managed to find one another and continue. They've also lost most of their remaining supplies. They're asking for sanctuary for at least three days, and whatever food and alcohol we can spare."
"Hah."
"Questions? Comments?"
"I've got one, if you don't mind," Celes said. "How do you know they're telling the truth?"
"They are all on the verge of exhaustion," Obadiah started counting on his fingers. "When we talked, they kept glancing towards the northern hills - they're visibly afraid of whatever's there. One of them - the miner - has twin gashes on both her cheeks," it was a symbol of undergoing mourning for a loved one. "Lastly, I believe they're telling the truth."

Celes rolled her eyes, while Jahjah cleared his throat quietly and raised a hand.

"But there's no fortresses to the north of here, I thought, " he said doubtfully. "Our h- I mean, Mersethzuglar, was the furthest dwarves ever settled.
"Correct," Obadiah nodded. "They're not from a fortress, or even an outpost. They're traveling from Aringole. It's a human town," he explained.
"And what in the Seven Stones were dwarves doing around humans?" Celes demanded.
"You know," Milski paused to drain his tankard, "I seem to remember a certain dwarf - can't recall her name just at this moment - suggesting something similar a few months ago, something about not bothering with this whole outpost business and moving to a human town inst-ow!" he jumped, when Celes kicked him under the table.
"So they lived in a human town, did they?" Zazit said forcefully. "A town. Inside a house. Above ground. For who knows how long," she added with an air of finality.
"And..?" Obadiah looked puzzled.
"I would not expect you to understand."
"I see. So, aside from raging xenophobia, do you have anything els-"
"You said they're migrants," Derek cut in calmly. "Where from?"
"From Gidthurdumat - the capital. Why?"
"Never mind."
"Alright... let's get back on topic, shall we? There are four tired, hungry dwarves at our gates. Do we let them in, or tell them to find help elsewhere?"


****************************************


Yes, a four-migrant wave. I'm more surprised than anyone, believe me.

Unfortunately, their skillsets aren't a very good fit for anyone currently at the top (or bottom) of the waiting list, except for xp194, and he'd have to suffer the trauma of a surprise sex change. So it would be no big loss if the original group decided to toss them out on their ear. Here's who showed up:

Miner (f)
Carpenter/Animal Trainer (m) + inexplicable axe
Butcher (m)
Potash Maker/Architect (f) Guess she took night classes fortress design?

Top of the waiting list is, in order, Rockphed, Zenos, Shpadoinkle, xp194. So speak out on whether you claim or pass. And "founder" players, feel free to let me know where your dwarf stands on the immigrant issue - even if it seems like the decision was already made for you. Right now I can still see good reasons for anyone to give either answer.

Finally, a big thanks for everyone's suggestions. I had to discard most of them due to geographical, historical, or storyline concerns, but they did get me thinking about the problem instead of bitching about it.

[Breltar]

Might seem not in the RP, but maybe just change their skills to what you need and say that what they came with were vestiges of their stay in the human town?

[Rockphed]

If you don't mind turning him into a hunter eventually, I'll take the carpenter/animal trainer. He does have an axe already, which makes the whole woodcutter/axe hunter easier to accomplish.

[Maxymiuk]

Might seem not in the RP, but maybe just change their skills to what you need and say that what they came with were vestiges of their stay in the human town?

You mean change them with something like Dwarf Companion?

Every community fort I've followed that used a program like that to manipulate events - every single one - managed to eventually screw up the game in some way: zero immigration, phantom dwarves, forever children, pacifist military...

Therefore my answer is an empathic no.

[Cobalt]

You mean change them with something like Dwarf Companion?

Every community fort I've followed that used a program like that to manipulate events - every single one - managed to eventually screw up the game in some way: zero immigration, phantom dwarves, forever children, pacifist military...

Therefore my answer is an empathic no.

You have no idea how many ridiculously absurd plot-points you just gave up. Think of the possibilities! An entire fort populated with children, a single foe overrunning your unwilling(or unable)-to-fight military… The massive failures… The hilarious results… They’re endless! Endless damn you!


*has no good ideas or anything to contibute to game beyond jokes*

[Breltar]

You mean change them with something like Dwarf Companion?

Every community fort I've followed that used a program like that to manipulate events - every single one - managed to eventually screw up the game in some way: zero immigration, phantom dwarves, forever children, pacifist military...

Therefore my answer is an empathic no.

Nope, I just mean toggle off the jobs that they came with and toggle on the jobs you want them to be in their labor selections. They might not be proficient with the new jobs at first but you have so few dwarves that they will gain skill quickly enough.

I hate outside programs as well, I don't use stonesense or any of it. Makes the game a lot more fun IMO.

That said I just had a fortress wipe out because of zombie gorillas....

[Rockphed]

Nope, I just mean toggle off the jobs that they came with and toggle on the jobs you want them to be in their labor selections. They might not be proficient with the new jobs at first but you have so few dwarves that they will gain skill quickly enough.

Yeah, this is what I was thinking of doing if it wasn't clear.



I hate outside programs as well, I don't use stonesense or any of it. Makes the game a lot more fun IMO.

That said I just had a fortress wipe out because of zombie gorillas....

I totally agree with this sentiment. Except the zombie gorrillas. I haven't met those yet.

[Breltar]

Except the zombie gorrillas. I haven't met those yet.

Terrifying embark area on a jungle island. Zombie Gorillas backed up by Zombie Chimpanzees and a few Snail-men just for extra 'umph'.

[ObadiahtheSlim]

Zombie Hippo. Embark on terrifying jungle with a river running through it. Death comes quickly as those soulless monsters tear you apart.

[Maxymiuk]

I choose to interpret the general lack of response as giving me leave to do what I want. Ok, I can work with that.


*************************************************


Idked checked the position of the sun and scowled. If those bastards inside the walls didn't reach a decision soon, the four of them would have to leave - there was only so much time left to find shelter before nightfall. And right now the others would take a lot of convincing to start moving again. To them running into a settlement, and a dwarven one at that, out here, and after what they've been through, seemed nothing short of a miracle. They'd fight him if he told them to turn their backs on this wall. They'd insist on at least waiting for an answer. And he didn't know what they'd do if that answer was negative.

He had a more realistic view of the issue. He knew the mentality of outposts like these: get everyone inside, lock the doors, and point crossbows at anyone who comes knocking. And it was only sensible - the world was full of dangerous things: monsters, brigands, looters, goblin marauders, mongrel warbands... and, rare as that happened, there were times when dwarves turned on dwarves. So could anyone blame these settlers if they'd decide to react with suspicion?

Yes, Idked's hands tightened around the shaft of his axe, yes, he could. Because he was tired, he was hungry, he was sober, and he's been herding three other tired, hungry, and sober dwarves across the mountains for the past week. And behind this wall were people who, tonight, would sit down around a common table, eat meat, drink ale, go to sleep in a real bed, instead of on a bunch of ro-

"Hey there! Um, Idked, was it?"

The dwarf who introduced himself as the camp's leader, Obadiah, appeared up on the rise again. They all looked at him eagerly.

"Yeah," Idket kept his voice level. "Have you made a decision?"
"You're a woodcutter, yes?"

No, he was a carpenter. He took the axe off the body of a woodcutter that they found after the attack.

"Yes, I am."
"You will pay for your stay in our camp with labor, and with your livestock. When you depart, we will give you half the meat we get from butchering it, so you will have provisions for your journey. And it goes without saying that you are to conduct yourself in an orderly manner. Are those acceptable terms?"
"They are," he wasn't going to argue, because he expected much worse.
"Very well," Obadiah nodded. "Derek! Open the gates!"


*****************************************


Idked's profile:


http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Idked.png


Either this fortress is a magnet for all the socially active, but chronically depressed dwarves, or I need to take a look at the entity raws. At this rate, we'll turn into a suicide cult.

Last call for the claim/pass from other people in the queue. Otherwise I think I'll just assign you a dwarf and gender preference be damned.

[ObadiahtheSlim]

Suicide cult go! You need to make a suicide booth.

[Maxymiuk]

"We're not what you expected, are we," Obadiah said.

Idked considered his answer for a long moment.

"Well," he said eventually, "I just had my first hot meal in over a month. I washed it down with three tankards of excellent beer. And tonight I will sleep without worrying that I'll wake up with my throat torn out. I think I can overlook the fact that I'll have a rock for a pillow."
"Thank you," Obadiah looked relieved.
"Though I wouldn't mind finding out what happened to you and yours," Idked stifled a belch. "Scuse me. No woodcutter, no tools, no underground farms... almost feels like being back in the Confederacy."
"That's a bit of a story," Obadiah sighed.
"It's not like we're in a hurry to leave or anything, right?"

***

Raroy had assented to admitting the arrivals into the camp. It was a logical decision. The camp needed their tools. Their labor, their resources.

And now the camp was suddenly very crowded. Everyone gathered in the main hall, to see the new faces, to talk with them, to get acquainted. There was worry and suspicion, slowly turning into ease and assurance.

She couldn't stand it. She slipped out and crossed the inner courtyard, heading into Zazit's workshop. She sat down among bone and rock, breathing deeply, waiting for her head to clear.

She should create something, she realized. And not the game pieces she's been neglecting for the past weeks. Proper art. An engraving. She hasn't made one since that last one, the one that told her she would come here. Yes. Her hands already itched in anticipation. She grabbed the makeshift chisel and approached the nearest bit of wall without a shelf.

The pattern wasn't with her tonight. There was no sense of her hands working of their own volition, no feeling she'd be discovering the picture even as she was making it. Good. She felt like doing something simple tonight.

After a few moments of thought, she set to work.

[xp194]

Just pitching in here that I'm fine with being a female miner. The name can be explained by same strange naming system her old overseer enacted.

[Maxymiuk]

Obadiah leaned closely over his table, carefully chipping away at the surface. Mica wasn't a very good material for this kind of work - it frequently cracked and split along lines he did not intend it to. Eventually he asked Raroy for help, and got a long lecture about split lines and basal cleavage, completely alien concepts that he still struggled to understand.

He did understand enough to let him carve shallow grooves in the table's surface, and that was all he really needed in this situation. Now he blew away the dust and stone chips from the newest groove and etched the symbol that meant "furniture" right above it. Then he took the pebbles he'd prepared beforehand and begun to arrange them in the groove. Dark bits of mica for tables, lighter gneiss for chairs. Slate chips for doors. And brown chert gravel for the beds Idked was busy assembling in the workshop they've set up for him.

He'd gotten odd looks from the others when they've found out about his bookkeeping, and not just because of this system. "Why are you counting," Celes mocked, "how little we have? Why stack stones, when fingers are enough?" He learned to ignore them fairly quickly - there was no use explaining that it was crucial to establish the foundations of a robust record keeping system now, while their stockpiles were still small and manageable. This was also the reason he insisted on dedicated stockpiles instead of large, common ones that were the habit - he still shuddered at the memories of having to navigate piles of goods, scattered without rhyme or reason, in order to find the desired item.

He jumped, pebbles flying everywhere, when someone pounded on the door.

"Obadiah! Come quick!" he heard Milski's voice. "There's... things out in the valley."

***

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/20-undeadreappearreally.png

"Believe me now?" Raroy said to no one in particular.
"They're goats," Celes scoffed, but her voice shook audibly. "You call that a threat?"
"They know no fear, they know no pain, they can survive blows that would bring a giant to its knees," Obadiah replied grimly. "Their only purpose is to prey upon the living."
"Yeah, but... goats!"
"You tangled with undead before?" Idked asked.
"Not personally. But I learned a lot about them on the expedition to the Stinky Horn," Obadiah squinted. "It looks like they're heading this way. Let's head inside - if they sense us, we'll have them banging on the walls for days."
"Sense?"
"It sounds better than 'see without eyes', no?"
"And how long will they stay here?"
"Who knows," Obadiah shrugged. "Could be a few days. Could be months."
"Seven gods below," Idked sighed, "it seems like we'll have to burden you with our presence for a bit longer than we originally thought."
"Honestly. Goats..."

***

"Would you start whining already?"

It was the start of the second week of Malachite - one week since they've been driven inside by the undead, and almost a month since the arrival of Idked's group. The time was nearing noon, which meant Celes was out by the fields, complaining to Derek that he should make the plants grow faster; the four extra thirsty dwarves meant they've ran out of booze again. But this question wasn't part of the standard set.

"I whine about you all being a bunch of useless clods," she continued after he gave no reply. "Milski whines about me whining about him. Obadiah whines about how we're all not taking him seriously enough. Zazit whines about how he'd frolick with bunnies and hug trees if no one was watching. Jahjah whines about how there's too much everything everywhere. And the new guys whine about how we're on booze rations again. So what I want to know is, when are you gonna whine about how I should go back to the hell that spawned me and stop bothering you?"
"You forgot Raroy," Derek said after some thought.
"I didn't. She doesn't whine. But she's crazy, so that's only natural."
"By that logic, I'm crazy as well."
"Yeah, but here's the thing. She's crazy in a whazzit, socially acceptable manner. Runs around with a crossbow, attempts to shave beards off nobles, covers walls in pictures of bats, so on, so forth. You ain't like that. And you worry me, farmsmith."

Derek waited for her to continue.

"Everyone gets angry is what I'm saying. Everyone whines. You're no exception, I reckon. Only you don't get angry, see? You don't whine. You keep it inside. Don't let it get out. And you know what? I reckon there's a lot of it in there. Clawing at your innards. Driving you bonkers. In a bad way."

Derek said nothing, his face unreadable. Meanwhile Celes hesitated - she was about to head into unfamiliar and mysterious land called giving advice.

"You saw Xeper, right?" she began. "Those cheeks of hers? Overly dramatic crap, cutting herself up like that - some way to honor how your brother got eaten by zombies, huh?"

Derek said nothing.

"But see, then I got thinking," Celes continued. "You're just traveling along with your kin, then bam! Suddenly he's dead. Never happened to me, but I reckon, if it ever did, I'd probably get really angry. I'd whine like crazy. I reckon, maybe I'd whine so bad, words wouldn't be enough," she looked at Derek, but he turned away and begun to check the soil around a berry bush. "So then I thought some more. I thought: how angry would I get if my entire family got the hammer?"

No one said anything for a very long moment.

"Anyway, gotta get back to the kitchen and get started on dinner for you bottomless louts," she got up. "See you later, farmsmith. Oh, and in case you're wondering," she threw over her shoulder, "it's because you're the only one who knows anything about the crops."


*************************************************


Xeper:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Xeper.png


I guess the idea is that eventually dwarven migrants will arrive at your fort with fully developed, procedurally generated backstories. For now I still have some leeway in deciding on just what that story will be.

[ObadiahtheSlim]

Can we see how the fort looks? Maybe upload it to that one site that lets you view it.

[Maxymiuk]

Before the undead trapped them inside the camp, Idked managed to cut down almost two dozen trees, which the rest of them dragged inside the walls. While he turned them into beds, barrels and bins, Jahjah and Xeper worked to expand the dining hall, and to dig a dormitory. and everyone else busied themselves with construction work, or food acquisition. The new arrivals have resigned themselves to waiting for the autumn caravan to

Seemingly, everyone was too busy with their tasks to do much of anything else.

***

"So how do dwarves end up working for a bunch of humans anyway?" Milski asked one night, as they were finishing dinner. "What's your story?"
"Stupidity," Idked growled, got up and walked out.

"Sensitive topic, I gather?" Milski said to break the awkward silence.
"Don't mind him," Zenos shrugged. "He hates being cheated."
"Join the community," Milski spread his arms, encompassing the hall. "But what happened, I gather you had some kind of deal with the humans?"
"The nobility had a deal," Zenos frowned. "Gidthurdumat has the same problems you do at the capital - too many dwarves, not enough work. So she negotiated with the Confederacy for-"
"The Confederacy?"
"Confederacy of Princes," Obadiah explained. "They're a loose alliance of city-states - your nobles probably had to make individual deals with each one separately, right?"
"Don't know," Zenos shrugged again. "All we were told was that there's plenty of work among the humans. Honest, honorable work. Anyone without employment was encouraged to leave, hells, the humans even showed up with a whole caravan just to take us with them."
"So what happened?"
"It was all a lie, that's what happened," Zenos grunted. "Honest and honorable my left ear - we were little better than serfs to the humans. We got stuck with the worst scutwork, never mind what we actually knew or did. Take Dalantar here, for example. Tell them who you were back in Gidthurdumat."
"Junior trader," Dalantar muttered into his tankard.
"And what did the humans have you do?"
"Butcher corpses."
"Me, I've been the best potash maker 'Dumat had," there were a couple snorts. "Alright, alright, so it's not like there was much competition," she admitted with a good-natured chuckle. "Or need, for that matter. I thought humans would appreciate my knowledge - you always here they had a drought here, a crop failure there. But no, they wouldn't stand for a dwarf telling them how to tend their crops, bunch of stuck up mudpickers that they were."
"So what did you do?"
"Joined a mercenary band."
"You're a mercenary?"
"Were. Got out the first chance I got. Don't want to talk about it," Zenos took a swig grom her tankard. "Suffice that meeting up with Xeper was the only good thing that happened to me there."
"Xeper too? But she's a miner!" Milski looked incredulous. "They didn't have work for a dwarven miner?"
"Politics," Zenos sighed.
"Politics," Xeper agreed. "Their guild didn't like it when I dug as much in one day, as the rest of the work crew in three."
"Idiots."
"I'll drink to that."

They raised their tankards in a quick toast.

"Alright, then what about Idked?" Milski wanted to know. "What did he end up doing?"
"Shoveling crap."
"Are you serious?!"
"Absolutely. Handed him a pitchfork and threw him into the muskox pen for three years."
"Damn."
"He did eventually work his way up to supervisor, mind you. But he still dropped everything and decided to head home with us the first chance he got. Says something, doesn't it?"

***

Except for Derek, no one ever came down into the seed storage, because there was no need for it. Even Celes simply left the seeds extracted in the kitchen near the top of the stairway, letting the smith place them as he pleased, and he regularly informed Obadiah about how many they had left.

"I have to ask you for a favor," Derek began, while Raroy was still looking at the neat, regularly spaced piles taking up more than half the room.
"A secret favor," she turned to him, understanding dawning on her face.
"Yes," he nodded.
"You think I will keep the secret."
"You will."
"Maybe you're right," she smiled broadly. "What do you need?"
"A statue."
"A secret statue."
"I saw your mural," he said quietly.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/21-Raroysartistry.png

By now everyone had seen it. After a few simple engravings, she had decided to move on to something a bit more ambitious. It took two weeks of work, mostly during the night. Then Zazit had to go and brag about what a talented friend she had.

"I admired how you hid the symbol in the pattern on its wings," he crouched down and quickly drew it in the sand. Raroy's smile waned, but did not disappear completely.
"One more question. Why?"

Derek placed his hand over the drawing and wiped it out.

"I got good advice."

***

Milski, Zazit, and Zenos stood side by side, looking morosely at the thick ice covering the stream.
"You know, come to think of it, it was getting colder lately," Zenos said.
"Yeah," Milski nodded. "We had a good run though, didn't we?"
"I was getting sick of fish to tell the truth."
"I suppose. Only now Celes is going to have to bake us strawberries."

"Someone's talking about me?" the cook emerged into the courtyard, suppressing a yawn. "Bloody mornings. For your sake, I hope it's only good things you're saying. Oh, Lurit's tits!" she caught sight of the stream. "Hey! Calendar guy! What's the day today?!"
"Er... the twenty-third? Let me think," Obadiah appeared as well, steaming mug of wine in hand. "No, the twenty-fourth. Twenty-fourth of Galena, why?"


********************************************


And the river freezes before summer is even officially over, barely two months after it thawed. Wonderful. Still, we have provisions for several months, and Derek finally started harvesting two, or even three plants per tile. And the caravan is due in less than a month.


The more astute of you may recall that I've previously named Gidthurdumat as the capital of the Dutiful Lenses (our parent civ). I did so based on the fact that it was the first mountain hall of our civilization. Well, turns out that the reigning monarch, her royal highness, queen Kikrost Masoszas, is operating out of Mersethzuglar, which I've spent some time establishing as our original group's city of origin. Whoops.

In my defense, the Legends mode has all the transparency of a tub of molasses. Do dukes or barons even show up as historical figures, or are they a fortress mode only phenomenon?


Zenos and Dalantar:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Zenos.png

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Dalantar.png


And yes, I may have neglected to mention earlier that both Zenos and Xeper have military skills, standard immigrant set (competent in weapon, armor, shield, fighting, dodging). Hammers for Zenos, axes for Xeper. Real shame we don't have anything to arm them with.

New deity!

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Deities/AlilBlamelessclears.png

Bah! That's not dwarven. That's not dwarven at all!



Finally, for the sake of completeness, here's the description of Corud Dunetree from the legends:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/22-balladofDunetree.png


Here's a picture of a caddisfly.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/thatterribletitan.jpg

Corud's favorite method of killing seems to be invasive dentistry.



Finally, finally, here's the state of the camp as of 24th of Galena:

Main courtyard, dining hall, dormitory:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Layout-maincourtyard.png

Milski is wondering where all his fishies went.


Kitchens, quarry, seed storage:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Layout-kitchenlevel.png

Celes working or her world-famous recipe of grab whatever's lying around and roast it.


Upper levels:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Layout-slopes.png

Bottom floor of the watchtower and my attempts at claiming the slopes above the camp for future expansion. I'd have finished those walls months ago if the undead didn't keep showing up.

[factotum]

Why did you use a ramp rather than stairs to get up to the quarry, out of interest?

[Maxymiuk]

Why did you use a ramp rather than stairs to get up to the quarry, out of interest?

By accident. In this version channeling creates ramps, and the entrance was originally going to be the emergency waterhole, before I found out that ice doesn't melt into drinkable water.

[Rockphed]

New deity!

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Deities/AlilBlamelessclears.png

Bah! That's not dwarven. That's not dwarven at all!


Sure it is! It would be better if it were also a good of alcohol, violence, or insanity, but it is still a very dwarven thing to worship a creature devoted to destroying sorrows. I figure Alil is pretty much the incarnation of giving people drinks who look sad.

[ObadiahtheSlim]

Nothing more dwarven than finding consolation in the bottom of a barrel of ale.

[AgentPaper]

I think "consolation" is just one of the thousands of names that dwarves have for alcohol.

[xp194]

It also seems a very appropriate God for a fort like this.

[Maxymiuk]

"...so I ask Urist again: 'Urist, where did you leave your pickaxe?' And he says, 'I told you already Obadiah, a horse stole it.' And I say: 'Don't be ridiculous, a horse? How?" And he says: 'It snuck up on me in the tunnel, so I panicked and swung at it, and then it stole my pick and ran away.' So I'm about to give him an earful for being too drunk on the job, when Kadol comes running into the camp, yelling 'Unicorns!' at the top of his lungs. So we lock the gate and run to the walls, and wouldn't you know it - there's a horse running about there, with a miner's pick stuck square in its forehead!"

Obadiah looked at the others expectanly. They responded with shrugs and muttering "Yeah, I guess that's sort of funny."

"You had to be there to understand, I guess," he sighed, then brightened up. "Alright, Celes, it's your turn."
"Sod off."
"Oh come on, I bet you have tons of great stories."
"Yeah, alright. Like, there was that one dwarf who kept asking me to do dumb things. So I put a live carp in his room."
"Alright... So maybe someone else can-"

The door to the hall opened, and Idked emerged, his arms and clothes splattered in blood, as well as a few other strange fluids, his hair and beard plastered soaked with sweat.

"They're both fine," he announced in a tired voice. "Now where's that unfrozen patch of stream, you said?"
"Half an hour's walk."
"Bloody hell... there better be a stiff drink waiting for me when I get back."

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/23-firstbirth.png


***


As my all too brief vacation has come to an end, we're getting back to short updates for awhile.

Looks like the next release will finally fix the hunter issues, so I'm happy.

And is it me, or did you just go and select our patron deity when I wasn't looking?

[The_JJ]

*popcorn* :smallsmile:

[Maxymiuk]

*sigh*

Ok, my last two weeks in ten words or less.

Work, sleep, work, writer's block, work, you get the idea.

Whinefest over, here's an update.


***


The others would say that digging an indoor water tank now, when the stream was frozen, was akin to patching a barrel after all the beer has spilled out onto the floor. Obadiah would counter that once fixed, an empty barrel could be made to hold more beer. Yeah, the others would say, but what use was beer that wouldn't show up for at least ten months? Ah, their leader would say, but wasn't the promise of beer better than no beer at all? Then everyone would drop what they were doing and head for the dining hall in search of their mugs.

For Jahjah, the decision meant that he could stop stacking blocks of slate into the rough shape of a wall up on the slopes above the camp, and take up the pick that has spent the past couple of weeks under his bed in the dormitory. Yet, as he retrieved it, he felt almost ashamed at how much joy the prospect of digging through rock had brought him - as opposed to the dull purposefulness of masonry. He was not doing his family name proud.

"Craftfortress - that's the kind of name you earn," his father would tell his many sons and daughters. "We dug the halls you pass through every day. We then took the stone left behind, and we carried it up the slopes of Mersethzuglar, where we used it to remake the very face of the mountain. We took the rocks into the workshops, where they became tables, chairs, and doors that you can still find in every corner of the fortress. We founded the Masons' Guild, and we've been heads of the Miners' guild for over half of its existence. Therefore, I will not see any child of mine be just one or the other. We are Craftfortress - a name like that is an obligation!"

For Jahjah, it was a burden he could not shoulder. Rock, once mined, was rock. Something you tripped over on your way back from the shift, because the haulers have been slacking off again. And though he did haul his share over the years, and he did get a rudimentary education as a mason - his father made sure of that - all that time his heart was down in the tunnels.

It was... there were no words to describe it. Carving your way through the strata, feeling the stone tremble and sing around you with each strike of the pick, learning to recognize different rocks and ores by touch when light ran out down in the depths, cutting an iron vein in half and the exhilirating against the other team, to see who'd reach their end first.

And then, sometimes, when they took a break from work, and they'd sit down to eat and drink, and old foredwarf Imal would light up his pipe, there'd come moments when everyone would fall quiet. And in those moments you could feel the great mass of stone all around you, surrounding, enveloping, embracing you.

You are a dwarf, the mountain seemed to say. And I shall house you, I shall protect you, I shall provide for you. You are my child. A child of stone.

And in those moments, if he put his ear to the rough stone wall and held his breath, sometimes he could hear it. A slow, rhythmic thrum. The heartbeat of the mountain.

Jahjah would work himself to exhaustion. He'd pull double, even triple shifts in the mines. His entire hands would erupt in blisters, which would break and bleed under the bandages he put on his hands. He'd spend off-days studying types of ore and stone, or forever hounding senior miners, hoping to learn from them. Shortly after his sixty-sixth birthday he achieved his goal, at the same time becoming one of the youngest foredwarves in Mersethzuglar's history. Now that he had status, that he had value to the fortress, no one could force him into the workshops. There was important work to do, down in the mines, where he belonged.

And then the flood happened. The stupid baron happened.

His father had the clout to make the nobles drop the charges - between the Masons and the Miners he held sway over nearly a third of the capital's workforce. If he had insisted on it, Jahjah's punishment would've been reduced, maybe even dropped altogether. But he didn't. He'd allowed his firstborn son to be exiled, stripped of everything that made him a dwarf - including his family name.

Why?

***

Ten months was good. Plenty of time to do things properly. A proper water tank should go two, even three dwarf lengths deep. Dig down level by level, let that creepy artist woman smooth the walls to improve retention, then remove the floors. She wouldn't be here to see it finished, of course - the caravan was due any day now - but Jahjah would handle it just fine. Plenty of time.

Xeper stopped chipping away at the slate wall in front of her when she realized something was off. It was Jahjah - she couldn't hear him digging anymore. He was just standing there, staring at the pick clutched in his hands.

"Uhh... Jahjah? You alright?"

He looked at her, and she flinched when she saw the look on his face. But a moment later it was gone, replaced by a tired smile.

"Perfectly fine," he nodded. "Just taking a small break."

Then he was back at the wall, the pick a copper blur in his hands.


***


Next update probably sometime next week. One of my coworkers managed to drop a motorcycle wheel on his hand and is now on pain meds, so we're even more understaffed. We'll see - there were certain occasions when I turned exhaustion and a desire to stab stupid people into high-octane fuel for my creativity.

[The_JJ]

I read this while listening to... well, something on the radio. Really meshed with it. Very good writing in this one. Keep it up.

[Cute_Riolu]

I read this while listening to... well, something on the radio. Really meshed with it. Very good writing in this one. Keep it up.

For some reason, I think that DF journals would be good spoken.

[Maxymiuk]

"Mind the steps," Obadiah said to the two dwarves following him. "I'll have to get someone to chisel off the ice later. Last thing we'd need right now is someone breaking a leg."
"I'm more worried about this whole thing dropping on someone's head," Idked replied, stepping carefully over a large frozen patch. "With us still inside it."
"The base is a bit narrow, yes," Obadiah repeated for what must've been the dozenth time. "But the foundation is stable and the battlement is designed to bear a third of the weight of the upper levels. So no, this watchtower won't fall over."
"And you're certain of that? Or are you just repeating what Zenos told you?"
"You know, I don't recall you objecting to the design back when she presented it to everyone."
"Yeah, well, that was before you told me I'd have to climb the damned thing. Speaking of which, why are we here? Why's he here?" Idked pointed at Derek, who was the last to climb the stairs. ""Survey the valley for more trees to cut" Lurit's hairy arse. I already know where they are."

Obadiah sighed and sat down on a block of stone, indicating that Idked should do likewise. The carpenter shook his head and instead leaned against a wall, arms crossed on his chest. Derek did sit down and began studying his fingernails.

"Well?" Idked said eventually.
"Alright, it's like this," Obadiah pursed his lips. "Derek, you tell him."
"There will be no caravan," the farmer stated plainly, looking up at Idked.

It took a moment for his words to sink in.

"What?! How- What do you mean?" the carpenter demanded.
"Seven exiles cast out in the middle of winter, without supplies or provisions. A caravan would only find their bones picked clean by carrion eaters."
"It makes sense, I'm afraid," Obadiah shrugged helplessly. "We weren't intended to survive more than a month - that much is clear. Even if we did, what trader would risk his wagons in these mountains for a bunch of non-dwarves?"
"And you were planning on telling us about this when, exactly?"
"We're telling you right now, aren't we? I only found out a few days ago, when Derek talked with me about it."
"How would he know?"
"I didn't believe him at first either - I didn't want to believe him. But, as I said, it makes sense. As far as anyone is concerned, we're long since dead."
"And if he's wrong?"
"I hope I'm wrong," Derek said.
"As do I," Obadiah agreed. "But right now we need to work under the very likely assumption that you aren't. Which means we have to figure out how eleven dwarves can survive the winter with what little provisions we have left."
"Eleven? You're assuming we're going to stay here?"
"I'm assuming you're not suicidal enough to try and get anywhere on foot, Idked. It's snowing daily, in case you haven't noticed."
"I'm more concerned with you just kicking us out the gate," Idked snorted. "Given what little provisions you have left."
"I'd like to think we're not so desperate as to turn our backs on fellow dwarves in need. Look, why are we even arguing? Do you want to leave?" he waited for a reply, but got none. "Alright, so maybe now we can talk about important things."
"Such as?"
"Such as," Derek spoke up, "what are we going to tell the others?"

[Maxymiuk]

Sorry about that lots of real life turnmoil. Quitting my job, switching countries of residence again, etc. etc. Here's an extra-long update as an apology.


******


“So I finally got our peerless leader to give me an estimate on what we’ve got so far,” Zazit kicked the bin filled with rings, figurines, bracelets and various other crafts she and Raroy have been carving during free moments over the past few months.
“And?”
“Barely three hundred and fifty guldens,” the bonecarver spat.
“Maybe if we had proper tools,” Raroy sighed.
“Maybe if we had more blasted time!” Zazit snarled. “But it’s always “go catch more fish” or “go build that wall.” And he had the nerve to shake his head when looking them over. Can you imagine! I’d like to see what he would carve when half asleep and with fingers that won’t bend right cause you’ve been soaking them in freezing water for the whole day!”
“So what will we get for it?” Raroy had never taken any real interest in trade, or the prices of goods. Now, when almost a dozen dwarves would depend on the provisions her work could buy, she found that lack of knowledge frustrating.
“Depends on how badly the traders will rip us off,” Zazit shrugged. “Enough food and booze to last the winter, I reckon, but little else. We can forget about proper tools, warm clothing, and anything that “doesn’t contribute to our immediate survival” though.”
“Warm clothing? But not even you were complai- I mean, I thought we’re doing fine with what we have, even now that it’s snowing again.”
“Oh, sure, now we’re fine. You’ll sing a different song once midwinter rolls around and the snowstorms hit. Ever been outside during one of those? I had a cousin in the military, and he told me the tower sentries called the wind that blows then Ostar’s Breath,” Zazit made a sign to ward off misfortune when saying the name of the Death God. “Know why? Cause if you feel it on your neck, you’re dead a few minutes later. He said he heard of dwarves found frozen solid on their posts, still standing upright as they were. So sure, we had it nice and easy so far, Depths, our trip here was a bloody miracle as far as weather goes. But mark my words, we’re in for some ugly weather before too soon.”
“Alright,” Raroy said, unconvinced. “But then, I still don’t see why you’re so worried,” she remarked innocently. “From what I hear, you’ve already found yourself another way to keep warm this winter.”

***

The four of them were taking a short break from work on the tower – sheltering from the wind and snow in the mostly finished guardhouse and sipping on tankards of warmed wine Celes brought over. The silence was broken by Obadiah, who slapped Milski on the shoulder.
“Milski, my lad,” he said, grinning broadly, “when are you going to finally tell us.”
The weaponsmith gave him a long look.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally.
“Oh come now, don’t be coy. We just want to know how you managed to charm the socks off of our dear Zazit.”
“It was a lot more than just the socks, I think,” Zenos added. “No mean feat, given how much she always complains about being cold.”
“And small wonder, since she usually comes off just as cold as the fish she’d caught, eh?” Idked nudged Zenos with his elbow. “No offense meant,” he nodded apologetically to Milski.
“So let’s hear the whole story,” Obadiah urged. “How long has this been going on?”
“Yeah, and when did the charming happen, cause Chief here told me he thinks you might’ve been a’slackin’.”
“And where, cause we’d sure as hells have heard you in the dormitory.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Idked, you snore loud enough to drown out a battle,” Zenos laughed, then yelped as the carpenter’s elbow dug deep into her ribs. “Ow! I’m not saying anything that’s untrue. But yeah, what bolt-hole have you two been using?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Milski muttered into the tankard, his ears burning red. This was met with a general cry of disbelief. “And it’s none of your affair anyway.”

***

“…and lastly, I don’t see how you’re in any position to pass judgement,” Zazit was finally winding down from her twenty-minute tirade, “given how you’ve been getting all cozy with our farmer.”
“But all I said was how from what I he- What?!” Raroy blanched. “Derek? But I’m not… we’re not… that’s absurd!”
“Sure it is. So it’s somewhere else than his seed cellar that you sneak off to after work every now and then, eh?” the bonecarver leered, seeing Raroy’s shocked expression. “Though no one would notice, did you? I knew you’ve had your eye on him almost since we got booted out of the mountainhome. For shame, Raroy,” Zazit wagged her finger at her, “that dwarf’s only just lost his whole damned family. By rights he’s still in mourning.”
“Shut up! We’re not doing anything… like that,” Raroy felt herself blush furiously.
“Then why make such a secret of it?”

***

“Can you just drop it?” Milski said in exasperation.”Before I drop this here block on your grinning face?”
“Milski, my lad-“
“You’re just five years older than me you bearded lech!”
“-my friend, no one’s judging you,” Obadiah raised his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Love is as blind as a cow in a mineshaft, as they say.”
“Yeah, we just want to know why it fell down that particular one.”
“Well, it’s not like he had much to choose from to be honest,” Zenos grunted, wrestling a block of slate up the stairway. “Hate to have to put it this way Obadiah, but if I can say that I’m the most normal female around, then you know you’ve got trouble. What?” she asked when everyone stared at her. “Your cook bosses around everyone she can, and shouts at anyone she can’t. And after hearing the stories about her, I’m worried one of those days I’ll pick up a tankard and it’ll bite my nose off. Then there’s the creepy one from then next shift – ever notice how she stares off into the distance all the time? And when she doesn’t, she stares at you and damn if that doesn’t give me the heebie-jeebies. And finally there’s our friends’ lady companion, and she’s just plain crazy.”
“No she isn’t!” Milski protested. “She just… has strong feelings about elves. Like any proper dwarf should,” he added firmly.
“From what I hear it’s less strong feelings and more wanton murder. But,” Zenos shrugged, getting back to work,” as Chief here said, you’re the one plumbing that mineshaft. Oh,” she added quickly. “Could you not repeat to Celes what I’ve said about her? I’d like to eat something other than stones until the caravan arrives.”

***

“How about this: if you tell me about you and Derek, I’ll tell you about me and Milski.”
“For the last time, there is nothing to talk about. We’re just friends.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Zazit snorted. “Why all the sneaking about then?”
“Uh…”
“ Can’t even come up with a good excuse, can you?”
“No, it’s just that I, er… I prefer to keep my affairs private.”
“Heh, affairs.”
“If you’re going to be that way, then we’re done talking,” Raroy got up angrily. “I’ll be seeing you when you decide to grow up.”
“Off to find comfort in your farmer’s arms then? Have fun.”
“You… forget it.”
Zazit’s laughter rang in her ears long after she left the workshop.

***

At the end of the workshift Milski ran off immediately, followed closely by Zenos, who was already grinning in anticipation of how this evening’s dinner conversation would go. Obadiah was set to follow them, but Idked motioned him to linger behind.
“Look, I’m sorry about Zenos,” the carpenter began with a sigh. “She had no call to say what she did. We’re here by your leave and on your hospitality, after all.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Obadiah dismissed the apology with a wave. “First of all, she’s absolutely right.”
“Yeah, but that still doesn’t mean she sho-“
“And second, I’ve seen worse. I’ve lived with worse. This bunch – they’re probably the best group I’ve ever worked with. You don’t believe me?” he laughed at Idked’s expression. “Well, let’s see: since our arrival I have yet to witness someone wall themselves off on a ledge, or inside a niche. I have yet to see someone fall into the stream and drown. We’ve had no deaths related to these contraptions Jahjah calls drawbridges. We haven’t been flooded because someone dug where they shouldn’t have, mauled by wildlife because someone left the entrance open, or forced to resort eating rats and cockroaches because no one’s been keeping track of the supplies. In fact,” Obadiah dropped his voice slightly, “what we have should very well last us until spring even if no caravan shows up. Sure, I may have dwarves who are bossy, creepy, or just plain crazy under my care. And they may frustrate me every now and then. But none of them are stupid. So I wouldn’t trade them for anyone else.”
“Idked! Obadiah! Come quick!” they both looked down from the tower, to see Dalantar running out of the camp, waving frantically. “Xeper’s dug her way into the bottom of the cistern, and now she can’t climb out!”
After a brief moment of stunned silence, their palms met their foreheads almost simultaneously.


******


“Must’ve been a flaw in the rock,” Xeper muttered with a shrug. “Happens sometimes. So the ramp collapses under me and this damned fool takes off running, yelling his head off. Didn’t even wait to check if I’m alright. Well – I was. So lucky me, I guess. Got done breaking through the wall to get out almost before you all came.”
“While I’m of course relieved that you came to no harm,” Obadiah said with a frown, “it seems I should be concerned about there, in fact, being a wall for you to get through.”
“Ah, well…”
“Um, we can explain,” Jahjah said quickly.
“I certainly hope so.”

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/24-Xepersgoof.png

“It’s like this, see: you got everyone started on that tower, right?”
“And on them walls up on the slopes. Don’t forget those.”
“Right. So suddenly everyone needs a whole lot of stone.”
“And that was afore you got us started on the cistern.”
“Right. So we needed to get some more digging done. But then Xeper comes to me-“
“And I say ‘weren’t you telling me ‘bout how there’s a whole mess of iron and coal and whatnot on the slopes across the stream’?”
“Right. Only there was no way of getting over to it cause that was when all those dead goats started running around the valley.”
“And so I slap him on the back and say ‘Jahjah, we’re dwarves-‘”
“Only we’re not.”
“Aw shut up. Still got your beard, pick, and a barrel of booze, don’t you? Anyway, ‘we’re dwarves,’ I say, ‘and if a dwarf can’t get over to something, he goes under instead’.’”
“Right, so-“
“So you’ve decided to dig a tunnel under the stream without telling anyone about it!” Obadiah the first twinges of a massive headache growing in his temples. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“Um…”
“Well…”
“It’s like this-“
“I also notice that most of the stone here is, in fact, kaolinite. A stone I distinctly don’t recall using in any construction work.”
“Ah…”
“Y’see…”
“No, stop. I don’t care about your excuses. I’ve just spent the whole day hauling stone up three flights of steps, and all I care about now is a plate of stew, a tankard of beer, and my bed. We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” Obadiah let out a long sigh. “Just tell me two things: is this tunnel going to get flooded once the stream thaws, and will we need to relocate the cistern now that you’ve punched through that wall.”
“Oh, no, we’re deep enough that no water will seep thr-“
“What for? Just some stone and mortar and that wall wi-“
“Good. That’s all I needed to know.”

***

“Oh will you finally cheer the hell up,” Idked said five days later, while working on a wooden bin. “So they did a bit of extra work on the side and it got discovered by accident – so what? You admitted yourself that they took all the proper precautions.”
“Yeah, but-“
“Plus, they’ve hit two veins of lignite along the way. And hit a huge deposit of iron once they’ve started digging up on the other side. Alright, so it’s not like we can use any of that,” the carpenter shrugged, “but you never know, right?”
“Well, yes, but-“
“And hey, your tower’s finished. And no one died, no one drowned, no one walled themselves off, right? I thought you’d be happy about that, at least,” Idked pointed at the gray structure rising above the camp. They’ve laid the last few stones this morning and convinced Celes to let them open a new cask of wine to celebrate the occasion. The building still needed a couple doors and hatches to make it weatherproof, but they’ve already lit a signal fire on the top. The damp logs they threw into the flames resulted in a column of dark smoke that would be visible for miles – just in case there was a caravan on the way and it had trouble finding them.
“No, I’m happy, believe me, I am,” Obadiah said without enthusiasm. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking…”
“Well that never did anyone any good, no sir, as my dear old mother used to say. What about? Hey,” he added, before the other dwarf could open his mouth, “think we could get Derek to tear himself away from digging in the dirt for long enough to cobble together a furnace and actually smelt some of that iron? Only see, I’ve already kinda asked him about that and he said it might be possible to set something up. I mean, I know we won’t be able to do anything decent without an anvil, but I’m hoping he could at least roll out some nails for me, cause have you ever tried making a bin, or a bed for that matter with just wood? It’s no stroll through a mine, let me tell you that. Though you’d need to agree to everything first, of course. But you were saying?”
“Er, what was I saying?” Obadiah blinked.
“That you were thinking.”
“Oh, right. Like you say, Jahjah and Xeper know their job well enough that they didn’t put anyone in danger. But what about everyone else?”
“What about them?”
“That’s the problem – I don’t know. I’ve realized that in this tiny, cramped camp of ours, they’ve all nevertheless managed to find their own private little spaces, and they get up to gods know what in there.”
“What, you mean like when Milski and Zazit charm off each others’ socks and-“
“Ye- What?! No!” Obadiah needed a moment to purge the image from his mind. “That’s not what I mean at all. I mean what if someone gets an idea – they might think it’s a brilliant idea - to help everyone out, but don’t say anything and one day it blows up in our faces?”
“Seriously? That’s what’s on your mind?” Idked snorted. “Wasn’t it you that was telling me just a few days ago about how proud you are of everyone being so smart?”
“Yeah, but that’s precisely the problem. After that little adventure with our miners I’ve realized that everyone’s smart enough to cover up being really, really stupid. Don’t give me that look. I’m actually afraid that I’ll go down to the kitchen one day and catch Celes cooking rats she was catching to make our food supplies stretch. Or that I’ll find out Derek’s been watering his fields with blood to make the crops grow taller. Or-“
Here Obadiah had to stop talking because Idked started laughing. And he kept laughing for quite a while. He slapped his knees, he threw back his head and roared with laughter. Great big tears of mirth rolled down his cheeks to disappear into his beard and his face grew as red as the berries Derek was picking that day. Other dwarves left their work and came over to see what was so funny, but all they’d see was the carpenter holding his stomach as he heed and hawed, and a nonplussed Obadiah mumbling something about a good joke. Then they’d shake their heads and go away, and meanwhile Idked still laughed and laughed. He didn’t stop until his laughter turned into a coughing fit, and Obadiah had to run for a tankard of beer, for fear that he’d choke. And even then he spilled half of it as snorts escaped him between one gulp and the next.
“Thank you for that,” he gasped at last. “Dear Lurit on his bejeweled throne, but I needed that. I haven’t had a laugh like that in twenty years, and by his golden crest, I won’t need another one for twenty more.”
“I’m glad I amuse you so much,” Obadiah said dryly.
“Oh, I don’t think you could’ve made me laugh harder if you tried,” Idked agreed amiably. “Watering crops with blood? Honestly, Obadiah? I’d have expected something like that from a Confederacy peasant, but you? And Derek?” the carpenter giggled. “Derek? The most stable dwarf either of us is ever likely going to see? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was you that was going off the deep end, throwing accusations like that around.”
“I wasn’t accusing anyone,” Obadiah protested.
“Which is why I said I know better,” Idked nodded. “Your problem is, it’s the first time you’ve been leading anyone for so long – I’m remembering it right? Just broker and bookkeeper up until this place? Not making a fool of myself here, am I? Ah, alright - you’re responsible for a dozen lives and you’ve been wound up tighter than the brass spring in a nervous guardsdwarfs’ crossbow, right? And you’ve just had something go almost, but not quite wrong, and woosh, it all went flying loose. You’re overreacting.”
“I- I suppose-“
“You are. Trust me, I’ve been there before, and I went through the same thing. Nothing as life-and-death as here, obviously – just a bunch of horses and stablehands, and a promise of a whipping if one of them got hurt. The horses, I mean. Nobody cared about the stablehands.”
“That’s right, Zenos mentioned something about you being an overseer at some estate in human lands.”
“Yeah, they found out I was a fair hand with the animals, so they’ve decided to put me in charge of humans. And what a barrel of joy that was. But,” Idked’s eyes grew hard, “that’s a story for another day. Look, the point is, things will happen. There will be problems. People will get… creative. That’s life for you. You can’t predict when, or where something will go wrong, so don’t bother trying, or you’ll worry yourself into an early grave. Just do your best to deal with trouble as it comes. I think you did a fine job with the miners – let them know your angry, but didn’t get angry, know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“Good,” he slapped Obadiah on the shoulder. “But I’ve rambled for long enough. Plenty of work left for the day, right? And think about what I said about that smelter, eh?”
“I will. And Idked?” Obadiah smiled. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah, now off with you,” the carpenter leaned over his work, but once Obadiah was out of earshot, he let out another giggle. “Blood rituals. Oh man. I’ll be telling that one for years.”

***

It took only four days for the smoke beacon to show results.
“There’s dwarves at our gates,” Derek said, entering Obadiah’s office.
“The caravan!” the leader sprang up, suddenly hopeful.
“Part of one,” the farmer agreed.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/25-nextmigrantwave.png


******


The init file and me, we’re having these creative differences. I turn immigrants off, going “Nooo, no immigrants, I’m not done characterizing the last group yet!” Then the init file goes “Sez you!” and sends me more dwarves. Also:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/26-thenwhycomeatall.png

Sod off you judgemental pricks. No one died here yet and no one's forcing you to come all the way out here. For that matter, how do you even know about this place? We haven’t even had a caravan yet. Who gives these people directions and why can’t they go somewhere that wants them?

Nah, I already know how to fit them into the narrative. I’m just not sure how to go about assigning them to the people on the waiting list, since next in line we have Robz defheadz requesting a male miner with a sobriety problem and Starbuck II requesting a male trapper with identity issues and neither of the arrivals fits those concepts even remotely (I'm assuming no one will want the 3-month-old toddler). Either way, I’ll give those two some time to let me know if they’re amenable to altering their concept a bit.

[Rockphed]

So, what did we get? One is purple, and the other seems to be a recruit. I'm guessing the one is a high master Diagnoser/novice glassmaker, and the other is a competent shield user/armor user/dodger/teacher/leader with no civilian skills and no real weapon training. Also, they appear to be married.

[Maxymiuk]

A female trader and a male cheesemaker with a grab-bag of military skills, including Skilled Axedwarf - he actually appeared on the edge of the map as a military dwarf, then immediately "went civilian" so I changed him back to military for the screenshot.

None of them have any prior relations to one another - not even the baby.

Upon reflection, this raises troubling questions.

In any case, since there's been no response from Robz and Starbuck II seems to have forgotten that he even wanted to be dwarfed, I think I'll skip down the list to lord khaine and Terraoblivion - their concepts are a lot closer to what I've got to work with anyway. I hope that won't make anyone too angry.

I'm aiming the next update for Tuesday.

[Rockphed]

Did he come with an axe and other equipment, or is he currently unarmed? Idked doesn't want to give up his axe just so somebody new can properly kill goblins. Also, isn't Idked's axe copper?

[The_JJ]

Yay to smart for my own good.

[xp194]

Heh... might want to keep an eye on Xeper...

"Boss... I think I may have dug too deep..."

Horrifying screams come from the darkness below...

[Rockphed]

Heh... might want to keep an eye on Xeper...

"Boss... I think I may have dug too deep..."

Horrifying screams come from the darkness below...

Unless Maxymiuk has either a weird site, a weird world, or just gets really unlucky, digging deep enough for that response is hard. However, the underground cavern level pretty much all include lots of nastiness, so if they are breached before the fort is ready for them, it leads to fun, as opposed to !!FUN!! !

[billtodamax]

Your name: Bill
Your preferred gender: None (I never pay any attention to them anyway)
Your profession (preferred/goal profession for anyone beyond the first six): Engraver/Architect/Mason/Miner/Whatever (I really only care about Engraver)
Your reason for being called undwarven and exiled (optional for anyone beyond the first six): One night, when everyone was asleep, he snuck into their bedrooms and engraved a picture of himself eating cheese on the wall.

The nobles did not appreciate it.

Loud, carefree, and boisterous, he happily follows through with whatever task given him with charming incompetence.

His jokes are 'hilarious'.

[Blayze]

I hope you're still taking migrant suggestions. If so...

Your name: Tsiru McFrawd
Your preferred gender: Male
Your profession: Miner
Your reason: Goblin raiders have a habit of kidnapping dwarven children and raising them as their own, presumably because it means less precious goblins need to die in future raids when there's dwarven limbs that could be hacked off instead.

Sometimes, things go in reverse--Tsiru's mother gave birth to him in the middle of a raid, and one of the local dwarves decided that turnabout was fair play. Raised as a dwarf in secret, he was kicked out of his 'home' fortress once the local law enforcement discovered him.

Passing himself off as a dwarf was easy among those who wouldn't suspect he was anything but--all he had to do was scar his own face excessively to make himself look as ugly as possible and join a migrant caravan, claiming it happened in a mining accident, and they bought it.

Tsiru tries to be as inconspicuous as possible--but among dwarves, all that does is make him stand out as the rest of them are at least slightly unhinged. All he does is mine, simply because it keeps him away from everyone else for as long as possible, thus lowering the chance of discovery.

[ObadiahtheSlim]

Breaching the caverns basically means you have a vector for Forgotten Beasts to enter and kill your dwarves.

[Rockphed]

Do we have any flux lying around, or are we going to have to import that sort of thing? I don't remember seeing a listing of what layers we have, but if it was posted, I would like to look at it for a bit.

Also, having iron and no flux is much nicer than having flux and no iron. That fort was fun, except for the distinct lack of iron ore. I had to use goblinite, which was, shall we say, less than fun seeing as the easy magma to get to was the stuff down at the bottom of the world, which meant a long haul or a magma pump stack, neither of which really appealed to me.

[ObadiahtheSlim]

I would say the opposite. You can get iron ore from merchants far easier than flux. Plus you can use goblinite to make your steel.

[Rockphed]

I would say the opposite. You can get iron ore from merchants far easier than flux. Plus you can use goblinite to make your steel.

True, but if you don't have a good supply of bronze making metals, you end up being relegated to copper weapons and armor, which are not all that great.

[Maxymiuk]

Update wasn't posted yesterday due to a headache that laid me out for most of the day. We do have iron ore all over the place, but no flux to be seen - though for all I know, it may be hidden away somewhere under the soil layer.

And speaking of intersecting biomes, it's really eerie to see the southern half of the stream dry out because the northern half has been frozen for the past month and a half.


******


From the journal of Obadiah Boltedbald


7th of Sandstone, Autumn of 451
The Camp

First, let me express the unbridled joy I feel at being able to press a quill against parchment and watch words emerge. I have not realized how much I’ve missed this until now that I find myself doing it, and I have Terra – one of our newest arrivals – to thank for this opportunity, even though it came about because of a great tragedy. But I should get to the point of this entry – ink and clear parchment are a limited resource I should not waste on idle gushing.

Two days ago, on the 5th of Sandstone, Derek entered my office to inform me of arrivals at the gates of our camp. I’ve expressed everyone’s hopes that this may be the annual dwarven making a tour of new settlements, carrying desperately needed supplies we could trade for. Unfortunately, in a way, it was…

There was no question of letting the arrivals in – not once Celes saw the baby. “We’ve all voted yes,” she growled in a way that caused Obadiah to go open the gate himself, without raising a word of objection. Zenos was told to give up her cloak to serve as a blanket. Derek was handed a bucket and sent to milk the mare. Raroy and Zazit who stood around snickering at the commotion were told to make themselves useful and arrange some toys. Celes herself ran off to the kitchen, right after shoving Idked in the direction of the wood pile with an order to fetch her some firewood. The arrivals watched it all wide-eyed, stunned speechless by the commotion their arrival had caused. Obadiah gave them a helpless shrug.
“You look hungry,” he said . “Why don’t we head to the dinner hall and you can introduce yourselves properly after you’ve eaten.

***

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/27-feedingTerra.png

“My name is Terra Tooltest of clan Lórokil,” the woman said, pushing away the empty bowl. “And you have mine and my companion’s sincere thanks for letting us in. I honestly don’t think we could’ve gone on for another day. I’ve all but given up hope when Khaine spotted your smoke signal.”
“Told you Asmel would guide us,” the other dwarf grunted, picking a bit of meat out of his beard and popping it into his mouth. “Name’s Khaine.Granitetorch,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“And the babe?” Celes wanted to know.
“We…” Terra hesitated. “We don’t know.”
“You don’t know? But-“
“I’m not his mother,” she sighed heavily, looking at the infant sleeping in her arms. “She died in the attack. Afterwards we found him under her body. She… she died shielding him from harm. I didn’t even know her name – she wasn’t part of the caravan, just a traveler that came with us for protection.”

…while no one would dare say so out loud, so as not to speak ill of the dead, I know that most of us have guessed that there’s only one reason for a mother to travel alone so late in the year, with a child just a few months old, and that would be because the child bore the shame of being born out of wedlock.

Fortunately, our camp is the last place where anyone will look askance at such matters. From what I hear, the women have taken to care for the boy as a group, and given him the name Amost…

“Forgive me if I seem callous,” Obadiah said gently,” but could you tell us how far from here the attack took place? The caravan – we’ve really been counting on the supplies you were carrying. Maybe we could go out and salvage whatever’s left.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Terra shook her head. “We were utterly lost – I wouldn’t be able to tell you which direction to start looking in. Besides, the goblins took almost everything there was of value. All we’ve been able to find was some food to get by on – and that ran out three days ago. We’ve been wandering around for over two weeks.”
“I see,” Obadiah sighed dejectedly.
“Wait,” the trader looked up suddenly. “You said, the supplies you were counting on?”
“Er, yes. The usual autumn circuit of all settlements and holdings? Only you’ve been so late, some of us were starting to wonder whether you haven’t forgotten about us.”
“But we have forgo- no, what am I saying? We couldn’t have forgotten about you.” Terra said, looking extremely puzzled. “We couldn’t, since we didn’t know about you at all.”

…and so Derek had been right after all. We’ve been sent off to die, forgotten and unmourned. Though I’ve been trying to accept that possibility before, finding out for certain was still like a punch to the gut. The others took it even worse – a lot of yelling and waving of arms, to put it lightly. Things almost ended in an incident when Khaine pulled his axe on Zenos who looked like she might hit Terra. Fortunately Idked and me managed to get everyone calmed down at that point – though I’ll admit that it was mostly because of how sharp that axe looked.

The next morning, with everyone rested and tempers cooled, we’ve all sat down to discuss what’s next. While I’ve appraised the new arrivals of our status as exiles, Idked took the chance to talk with his group. Afterwards…

“Alright, the way I see it, it’s like this,” Idked began with a sigh. “We could take the promised supplies and leave right now, bringing those two with us. Zenos and Dalantar campaigned around these parts a few times, so they know the lay of the land, more or less. If we moved fast, we might just make it to the Spine of Lathering before the real snowstorms hit. Failing that, there’s at least two human cities along the way: Rogonketas, and Escuquemer, which is where our friends were trying to get two. But,” the carpenter looked at Dalantar, “there’s a problem with that idea. Two problems.”
“First,” the mercenary bent back one finger, “if goblins are raiding that far north from the Reputed Crest, it means the Confederacy went to pieces again, which I believe makes it the eleventh time just in this decade.”
“Thirteenth.”
“Either way, all the soldiers that should be protecting the roads are holed up in the cities, protecting their merchant princes against surprise sieges. And that in turn means that one, there’s goblin warbands – and worse – out in the country, and two, anyone showing up at the city gates is likely to be accused of being a spy for the opposition. If you ask me and Zenos for our professional opinion, this makes our chances of “making it” anywhere virtually nil.” Dalantar took a deep breath before continuing. “And second…”
“And second,” Zenos cut him off, “we kinda don’t want to go.”
“You… don’t?” Obadiah blinked.
“Not really,” she shrugged. “I mean, our mountainhome pretty much kicked us out too. They were just nicer about it.”
“In that they didn’t quite say “and don’t ever come back” out loud,” Dalantar said bitterly.
“And even being let into yours is a right pain.”
“Änd where else would we go? The humans all treat us like dirt…”
“The dwarves treat us like we don’t exist…”
“Well, there’s always this other dwarf kingdom to the southeast.”
“What, the Speechless Sword? Hah,” Zenos spat. “Remember Baldbridge? Back in Enempobe?”
“You mean the huge bastard? The one with the beard like this? He was from there? Damn, you know, I thought he was one of ours, the way he always acted. Always wondered how his own mother didn’t drown him in a barrel of ale.”
“Yeah, and I’ve met a dwarf who said that down in their lands, they all act like this.”
“Seriously? I-“
“I think the point here is,” Idked said firmly, “that, funny as it may sound, your camp is our best option. All four of us agree on this – this may be a far cry from a dwarf’s dream mountain, but it’s still a damn sight better than most places any of us have slept over the years. we’d like to stay. If you’d have us, I mean,” he added.

…I’d have said yes without a second thought. During their stay here Idked and his crew have proven themselves hard and reliable workers, well worth the food we’ve put before them on the table. However, this was a matter that would affect more dwarves than me. I called a vote.

It was a unanimous aye.

As for the newest arrivals, Khaine just repeated that it was Asmel that guided him here, and that he wasn’t about to turn around and leave. And Terra – well, she wasn’t about to head out into the wilderness all by herself, was she? And there was the baby to think about – our mare was still producing milk, having foaled recently.

With that issue settled to everyone’s satisfaction, the discussion turned to the matter of provisions. Here things didn’t go so well…

“We’ll need to butcher one of the animals,” Celes said matter-of-factly. “Or come winter we’ll only have berries left to eat.”
“Alright, I suppose the donkey will ha-“
“NO!” everyone jumped at Celes’s outburst. “We’ll kill the bull.”
“What? It’s still a calf” Dalantar protested. “And just last week you were saying that-“
“And now I say that you’ll kill the bull. In case it escaped your attention, we now have a baby here with us. Babies need milk – lots of milk. And that donkey’s a jenny.”
“So?” Dalantar shrugged. “It’s not like it’s with foal. No foal, no milk.”
“Actually, that’s not entirely true,” Idked smiled. “There’s ways to artificially induce lactation in most livestock – it’s quite simple, really. All you need is a-“
“IbelieveyouandIdon'twanttoknowandyouwillstoptalki ngrightnow!” the mercenary covered his ears just in case, as a few others laughed. “I still remember your lecture on horsebreeding – no matter how much I drink to forget. I’ll kill the damned bull.”
“How are we for alcohol?” Obadiah asked.
“Plenty of booze left,” Celes said, much to general relief. “And I’ve got enough berries cluttering up the kitchen to double what we have, if I need to.”
“And speaking of berries…” Obadiah looked at Derek.
“Last crop gets planted tomorrow,” the farmer said. “Anything I try to grow later would just freeze once the storms start.”
“Damn. But alright, I still think this should last us until spring.”

…”And then what?” was the inevitable question, which didn’t get asked because, luckily, Zazit decided to start an argument…

“Half of you snores,” Zazit said, drawing a lot of unfriendly glances, “and the other half farts. It was bad enough with eleven, and now there’s gonna be fourteen. I say sod this, I want my own room.”
“You mean you and Milski want a room,” Zenos leered, causing a few laughs.
“But no, I agree,” Celes offered unexpected support. “I think everyone’s noticed it’s getting really cramped here,” she looked around the table. “I mean, if I was to serve dinner now, someone would get an elbow in the eye when you’d raise the spoons. We’ll need to dig a bigger mess hall for sure – might as well throw in a few rooms while the miners are at it, right? For that matter,” she smirked, “our honored leader needs a bigger office. I’m not so fond of his face that I want to see it from a few inches away when I come to yell at him.”

…uncalled for remarks aside, it’s true that we’ve been too busy with other crucial projects to expand our living space beyond the few basic chambers Jahjah dug us at the start of our exile. Now that we have two miners on hand, I see no reason not to dig a few extra rooms – I have already spoken with Jahjah and Xeper about finding a suitable space for expansion.

However, by far the most… interesting problem was brought to my attention the day after the meeting – just a couple hours ago, in fact. It started with a knock on my office’s door…

“Can we come in?” Zenos looked around the door. “Damn, it is cramped in here. Hey, what’s this?” she walked in, pointing at the table. Dalantar followed her, closing the door behind him.
“What? Oh, that, well, I suppose you could call it a filing system, ”Obadiah said, doing his best to move the chair closer to the wall. Three dwarves were two too many for the tiny room.
“What, the table? And all those beads and rocks and things?”
“Don’t touch it! Sorry, it’s very easy to get things mixed up. Yes, a table. We didn’t come here with any books, or ink, and I had to keep track of how much food and other things we have left somehow, so I made these grooves in the table and started using different colors of pebbles as markers. It’s very simple really.”
“I see,” Zenos nodded, clearly not understanding. “But now that you’ve got those ledgers the trader girl carried around with her you’ll do it like a normal dwarf, with numbers and things, yeah?”
“Well, I don’t know, I kinda got use- How about you tell me what brings you here,” Obadiah smiled brightly.
“Okay, see, there’s this thing. Um…” Zenos looked at Dalantar worriedly. “I don’t know how to explain it. Dal! You ask him.”
“You said you were going to do it!” the other dwarf protested.
“Yeah, but I can’t. It’s too… silly. No!” she cried out. “No! It’s not silly. It’s a serious question… thing. A serious thing that we want to ask about. It’s just that, I mean me and Dal have been talking about this for awhile, right? Cause we’ve known each other for years, so there’s not much one of us doesn’t know about the other, you know, and we both want this. But we’ve also been listening to others, cause we don’t want to impose or anything, and it’s like it’s just me and him that want this and no one else. And I’m sorry I’m babbling, but it just feels so silly to ask for it,” Zenos looked at Obadiah helplessly.
“That’s alright, I understand what you mean,” he lied blatantly. “But just to make sure I understood you: tell me, in five words or less, what do you want?”
Zenos looked at Dalantar, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. Then she looked at Obadiah and took a deep breath.
“We want a temple,” she blurted out.

…they’re both worshippers of álil Blamelessclears, the deity of consolation and copious amounts of alcohol (which in most circles means the same thing, I suppose). The treaties we the treaties the Dutiful Lenses have with the Confederacy forbid construction of shrines to dwarven gods in human territory (and vice versa), so they haven’t attended a proper service in years (Dalantar tells me binge nights at a tavern don’t count). When it still seemed that they’d be heading home with the caravan, they kept quiet, not wanting to add to anyone’s workload, but now they’re asking for – at the very least – a shrine to leave offerings at.

I told them I’ll think about it. While it’s true that on the surface we may seem like a heathen bunch, it’s mostly been because survival takes precedence over gods, even for the most ardent of worshippers. And if experience taught me anything, when one temple pops up, more are quick to follow. There are seven gods in our pantheon, after all.


******


As an aside, I still remember the promise to show the fort (as much as there is to show, at least) in Stonesense. However, there's two problems with that. One, the program's compatibility updates are having trouble keeping up with the game's updates, given the rate at which Toady One has been churning them out. Two, the one time I did try to run it on a compatible version (31.8, I think), I gave up after two hours, because it wasn't working. However, I'm willing to try again, especially now that I'll be expanding the camp a bit. I'll stick with 31.14 until Stonesense catches up, and then we'll see.

Next update will happen during the weekend. I'd like to have a more reliable schedule, but my internet access is currently sporadic.

[Maxymiuk]

From the journal of Obadiah Boltedbald

23rd of Sandstone, Autumn of 451
The Camp

I’ve had numerous contacts with elves over the years I’ve spent as a trader and broker in various frontier settlements around the Spine of Lathering. As a consequence, I’ve learned some things about this strange race – not nearly enough to consider myself an authority, but enough to have some gleaning of how they view the races they trade with.

I write about this, because the events of the past few weeks have brought to my mind a discussion I’ve once had with one of these nomadic merchants, in which he attempted to teach me of the fundamental difference between elves and dwarves.

“Elves,” he said, holding up a length of wood, which he then threw at the wall surrounding the trade depot. The stick bounced off the stone and fell to the ground. The elf picked it up and showed it to me – it looked much the same as before he threw it. When I nodded that I understand (at the time I didn’t), he took the stick in both hands and snapped it in two without much effort..

“Dwarves,” he then said, pointing at a rock laying under our feet. He then proceeded to stomp on it, kick it, and wail on it with his staff. After a few minutes he stopped, and calmly picked up the rock to show it to me – aside from a few scuff marks, it has withstood his assault unharmed. When I nodded, he turned and threw the rock at the wall, where it shattered into a hundred pieces.

Looking back at this event from the perspective of years, I can conclude that his methodology was flawed – had we been standing five feet to the left of where we were, we’d have had the fort’s layer of chalk under our feet. Any rock he’d have found laying there would’ve been pounded into paste in just a couple of blows. That said, there was some merit to his point. Upon realizing that we’ve been betrayed by our former homeland, we’ve raged and despaired, then we drank heavily through the night, and then we went on with our lives.

Still, I’ll confess to helping things along in that regard. A working dwarf is a happy dwarf, or at least a dwarf with no time to brood, so for the past two weeks I’ve had us all working on rebuilding our stock of wood. Terra and Khaine encountered no undead on their trek towards the camp, and Raroy’s patrol confirmed that the valley is once again clear of danger. With two axes at our disposal, Idked and Khaine have been felling trees faster than we can haul them away, a problem exacerbated by the fact that Idked’s previous work has completely cleared the immediate vicinity of the camp.

I am well aware of the five trees growing within the confines of our walls. I’ve declared that they are to remain standing, thus serving as an emergency supply, impervious to consumption whether by accident or oversight. There is also another reason, but one that I dare not dress in words yet, not when my plan is but a shadow of intent, hung on a latticework of hope.

Moreover, I have greater concerns right now. Jahjah and Xeper still haven’t provided a plan of the residential area they’re to dig. Neither have they started any actual work. Instead they waste hours wandering the camp, arguing loudly and ceaselessly, stopping only long enough to cover the nearest wall with a web of diagrams that no one can decipher. In fact, I was forced to confine their discussions to the area of the quarry, after they nearly defaced one of Raroy’s engravings in that manner, and she chased them across the camp, attempting to bludgeon them with her crossbow.

When confronted about their lack of progress, the miners informed me that they’ve had a number of disagreements concerning, and I quote, “philosophy of fortress design.”


“The what of what?”
“Philosophy of fortress design,” Xeper repeated patiently.
“That’s an actual field of study?” Obadiah asked weakly.
“Absolutely. Very active too. Cutting edge, really. New theories springing up overnight, you could say. My father, for example,” Xeper said, with a hint of pride in her voice, “is the one who formulated the Unified Tile Theorem.”
“My grandfather wrote the treatise on Dwarfspace Coefficients,” Jahjah added.
“Which got soundly debunked by the later work of Asmel Rackbitten.”
“Asmel was an idiot who wouldn’t know the business end of a pick from his arse.”
“He did prove the dangers inherent to-“
“He fell down a bloody chasm! The only thing this proves is that he didn’t know what precautions to take when approaching a hollow space.”
“Oh, so you’re saying we should take your granddad’s advice to “dig a mile down into the mountain and start the whole thing over”.”
“What?! That’s not what I’m saying at all! I just think that-“


Long story short, I’ve learned why most expeditions are ever assigned only one miner. The best I can hope for, I think, is that eventually one of them will throttle the other. At least then the philosophy department will have reached consensus and actual work can begin.

***

26th of Sandstone, Autumn of 451
The Camp

The goats are back. Raroy looked inordinately happy when delivering these news. I don’t see why, as it means that she has to get back to smoothing the walls of the cistern with Dalantar. I confess to some frustration, as the stockpile is only half full. I’ve ordered everyone back inside and the gate raised. Most of us were happy to comply.


“So you’re just going to hide?” Khaine scowled. “Cower behind the walls? What are you, children?”
“We’re grown men and women,” Obadiah replied coldly, “who are not suicidal. We have no weapons. We have no armor. We-“
“Weapon,” Khaine hefted his axe. “Armor,” he pounded his chest, causing his chain mail to jingle.
“We also don’t have a trained physician in case anyone gets hurt.”
“Not gonna get hurt.”
“Hey, Khaine, know what it feels like to die of infection?” Zenos called out from where she was dragging the last of the wood to the stockpile.”
“Cause we could tell you all about it,” Dalantar grinned, joining her. “It’s barrels of fun, let me tell you.”
“A real scream, you could say.”
“A hoot.”
“A holler.”
“Let me fight,” the guardsdwarf insisted, ignoring the mercenaries. “I can handle them.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Then you can take the damned axe off my corpse. Now let me fight!”


It took Terra to finally talk him down – she appears to be the only one Khaine can’t say no to, but even she had trouble convincing him to get inside.

I later had a very troubling conversation with Zenos and Dalantar. They tell me that Khaine is what’s known as a “late bloomer” – a dwarf that got fed up with his “boring civilian life” from one day to the next and decided to join the military or, in his case, become a caravan guard (he used to be a cheesemaker, apparently). They tell me his type are unusually aggressive and prone to looking for trouble and excitement. “Thinks he’s got a lot to prove, to himself and to everyone else” were the exact words they used.

I’ll have to have a talk with him. Maybe I can convince him to put down the axe and take up his old job. Young Amost doesn’t need nearly as much milk as everyone thought and it’s been piling up. It would mean some variety in our diet, at least.

Meanwhile I can’t have half the camp sitting on their hands, so I’ve got everyone I can started on putting a roof over the inner courtyard. It should help keep the warmth in, especially once the snow falls, creating another layer of insulation.

Still no progress on the residential situation.


******


Almost forgot the profiles for the new characters.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Khaine.png

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Character%20Profiles/Terra.png

Is it just me, or does Terra actually look well-adjusted?

[Rockphed]

Okay, what have you been inflicting on the dwarves that they are already "getting used to tragedy?"

[The_JJ]

Yeah, Terra does seem sane. Huh.

Anyway, awesome sauce is awesome.

[AgentPaper]

Sweet, looks like I get the next dwarf that is inevitably sent despite you turning of migration.

Just as an idea for the next wave, perhaps the Mountain Home, still hemorrhaging dwarven exiles, has either A) sent another group of exiles to the same place by coincidence (probably for the same reasons the first group got sent here), or B) They've actually been keeping track of the place and sent one or two dwarves to "check up on them.", which is basically just their excuse to send out even more dwarves to die. Which one you use would basically depend on the size of the group, though it could be a full expedition of exiles that got less or no escort, leading to many of them dying on the journey.

[Rockphed]

*poke* *poke*

Maxy, if you let this die, I will hunt you down and feed you to the zombie eagles.:smallfurious:

[Maxymiuk]

I will hunt you down and feed you to the zombie eagles.:smallfurious:

Well, alright, but only because you''ve threatened me with horrid death. :smalltongue:

I do apologize. I've been in a bit of a funk this past week or so. I have no intention of letting this die however.


******


From the journal of Obadiah Boltedbald

30th of Sandstone, Autumn of 451
The Camp

I’m writing these words in my new office. Which is really the old office, only much larger. Our two miners may still be arguing esoterics – I even heard some of the others start referring to the quarry as the “philosophy wing” – but at least they can still follow simple orders like “expand my office”. I now have a separate meeting table, so that now as many as five dwarves can yell at me at once. The filing table has been moved further away from the entrance; hopefully it’s far enough that no one will disrupt it accidentally. I’ve also had four new ones made – I was really running out of space for new grooves.

The herds of undead goats continue to pass within a stone’s throw of our walls. Khaine continues to watch them in every free moment. Everyone else is currently busy putting a roof over the inner courtyard, since one, I can’t have them sitting around with nothing to do, and two, this should help us retain some warmth once winter sets in.

***

The middle part of the leaf was still green, but the rim has darkened, dried up and curled inward. He picked one of the berries and it came apart, with watery juice and bits of brown pulp running through his fingers.

“What’s wrong with it?”

Derek turned around, to see Terra looking over his shoulder, curiosity written all over her face.

“The cold’s killing it,” he said, turning back to the plants.
“But why like this?” Terra came up and kneeled next to him, pointing at the bush. “The leaves dry out, but the fruit rot.”
“I… don’t know,” Derek replied.
“Oh,” she looked disappointed. “Is it true what Celes said? That you didn’t know anything about growing crops when you came here? That you had to figure everything out with no help?”
“I had help,” he shook his head. “Celes and Obadiah knew which plants I should grow. Without them I would’ve wasted time growing shrubs. Or grass.”
“But you’re the one who figured out how to grow them,” Terra insisted.

Derek shrugged and began prodding berries hanging on the bush, looking for any that were still salvageable. Terra waited for him to reply, but it was quickly becoming clear that there wouldn’t be one.

Celes did warn her that this wasn’t going to be easy.

“You know, I originally wanted to be a farmer,” she said wistfully. “The guild wouldn’t have me though. Usual reason – too many members, not enough work. And from what I’ve heard even if they take you in, it’s ten years before they even take you down to the fields, and another five before they’ll let you pick your first plump helmet.”
“You want me to teach you,” it wasn’t a question.
“Well, I just thought that with the food shortage Celes mentioned, you might need some help, so…” she shrugged helplessly.
“This is the last crop for this year,” Derek indicated the berry bushes, the strawberry patch, the two rows of longland grass on the far side of the plot. “I think at least half of it will die from the cold. I won’t be planting anything else until spring.”
“Oh. I see,” Terra looked away to hide her disappointment. “Yeah, you already said that, back when we showed up, I forgot. Yeah, no point in me asking then. Sorry to have bothered you,” she started to get up, only to be stopped by a hand grasping her shoulder.
“A prickle berry is always green, but you know it’s ripe when the thorns start coming off with just a light touch,” he dropped a couple berries into her hand, letting her examine them. “It should be hard, but give way if you squeeze it. If it’s any softer, it’s probably overripe, or rotting. Go on then,” he added, pointing at the bush. “They aren’t going to pick themselves.”
“I… I don’t…” Terra stared at the fruit in her hand, stunned by this sudden turnabout. “Thank you. I don’t kno-“
“Tell me about Khaine.”


******


On the technical side of things, does anyone know if there's a way to prevent dwarves from nabbing a bag and using it for seed storage? (I think they'll use it even if I remove the seed stockpile beforehand) We've got all the longland beer we need for the moment, and I thought I could vary the diet with some flour in the meantime.

[ObadiahtheSlim]

The only thing I can think of is creative use of burrows and labors. I'd just recommend growing some pigtails and use that to make some more bags. Bags are like barrels and bins. You can never have too many.

[Maxymiuk]

I’ve delayed playing Fallout: New Vegas and watching House Season Two DVD Set in order to bring you this update. I hope you can appreciate the sacrifices I’m making here. :smallannoyed: :smalltongue:


******


2nd of Timber, Autumn of 451

“What I’m failing to understand,” Obadiah said with a slow sigh, “is why you’ve started arguing now, of all times. You’ve had no problems digging the cistern together. Or the dormitory. Or my office. Or anything else for that matter.”

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/28-admonishingtheminers.png

The two miners shifted in their seats, sharing an uncomfortable glance.

“Well, you see,” Jahjah began, “the cistern was easy.”
“Yeah. There was a good space for it,” Xeper added. “Had to do just one workaround on account of the tunnels, is all.”
“There was… Are you serious?” Obadiah gaped. “Are you trying to tell me that we have no space for a few rooms?”
“That’s a… crude way to put it.”
“That’s a ridiculous way to put it!” Obadiah half-rose from his seat. “What do you mean, no space?! Have you seen that hill you’ve dug us into?! There’s plenty of space! Pick a wall. Any wall! Start digging!”
“Aw, well, see, it’s not that easy,” Xeper shook her head. “Not if we want to maintain the ACE.”
“The what?” Obadiah fell back into his seat, his anger momentarily replaced with confusion.
“ACE. Amenity, Community, Efficiency. Three words every miner lives by. Usually cause the Guild will take every moment to hammer them into your skull.”
And what do they mean, exactly?” Obadiah asked weakly.
“Hah, that would be a telling. There’s scads of books that’s been written by greatest dwarven minds on them three words. But, in the simplest terms,” Xeper counted off on her fingers,” Amenity is about keeping dwarves happy about their lodgings, and that includes giving them enough room to stretch their legs.. Community means making sure everyone’s got a chance to see everyone else at least once per day, and that’s only good sense cause not only people need to socialize, but this way you can immediately spot outsiders.. Efficiency is the layout of the fortress as a whole – you want everything close on hand, otherwise dwarves waste time running around looking for stuff all the time.”
“What she means to say,” Jahjah added, “is that a properly built fort needs a defined focal point.”
“No I bloody well don’t!” Xeper snapped at him, “And I’ll thank you for not bringing up that nonsense again.”
“It’s not nonsense. It’s a valid approach to fortress design, as detailed in-“
“It’s complete nonsense. Focal point design has been proven to be impossible to maintain as the fort grows, and what’s more-“
“ENOUGH!!”

The miners broke off their incipient argument and stared at Obadiah.

“Enough,” he breathed out a bit more calmly. “I don’t care about your difference of opinion. What I care about – what everyone else cares about – is that you two haven’t started digging us rooms yet. And as far as I understand it is, you’re wasting a lot of words to tell me that you don’t know where to start digging.”
“Well…”
“Essentially…”
“Fine!” Obadiah ran a hand down his face. “I’ll help you with that. This,” he pointed at the wall behind his chair,” is where I want the entrance to my room. Once you’re done digging here, you’ll go and ask Celes where she wants hers – chances are it's somewhere near the kitchen. Then you’ll ask Derek. Then Raroy, Milski, and everyone else. And you’ll dig where they tell you to dig, barring any obvious and legitimate problems, such as collapsing this whole place down on our heads. Is this something you think you can do?”
“Well…”
“It’s certainly… interesting.”
“Certainly somewhat unorthodox…”
“Yeah. Like… small-scale distributed habitation?”
“Though it would prevent traffic congestion in the access corridor.”
“Preserve privacy too.”
“And keep the dining hall as the central point of the fort.”
“Certainly has potential.”
“So is that a yes?” Obadiah demanded.
“We’ll have to thi-“

Just then, the door swung open with a crash, and Milski burst into the office.

“Obadiah!” he shouted, his voice full of anxiety. “Come quick! Khaine went outside the walls!”
“What?! When? Just now?”
“Yes!”
“How? Why would he do that?!”
“I think he’s going after the goats.”


******


And I’m finally starting to catch up to my latest save. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually get to play the game again in a couple weeks.

[Rockphed]

I notice that Khain's method of exiting the compound isn't explained. Furthermore, I notice that they have FINALLY come to a decision on where to start putting rooms. I normally have a giant staircase of doom running down the middle of my fort, but I think your way might be better.

[Maxymiuk]

This is actually a large departure from my typical fortress design, in that I don't actually have one. I'm adding new rooms based on current needs and available space. I'm hoping this will result in a fort that looks more natural, more "organic" than those built according to an overarching plan.

Which isn't to say that I won't be undertaking any large-scale architectural projects. But for now they're only plans for the future.


******


2nd of Timber, Autumn of 451

Khaine wasn't afraid.

He walked carefully across the ice, as the fishing platform raised itself behind him with a loud grinding of gears, cutting him off from safety, denying retreat.

He wouldn't retreat.

Once on firm ground he broke into a jog, heading southwest, following the group of goats he saw passing the camp barely a quarter of an hour ago. They'd been moving very slowly, shambling along almost, but he couldn't see them from the valley's floor - they were probably hidden behind one of the slopes.

He slowed down a bit once the ground started sloping upwards. No need to tire himself out needlessly, especially since he could stumble onto the goats at any moment. He'd catch up with them even if he just walked.

Goats. Undead goats. Heh.

Maybe that's why he didn't feel any fear. Hard to take an enemy like that seriously, even if they were an abomination of life, creatures of bone and rot. But he wielded bronze, wore iron and steel. Metal wins over bone any day of the week. Now goblins...

There was distant yelling behind him. He was high enough that the camp's wall no longer hid him from those working on the courtyard's roof. But in truth they were the ones who were hiding. Hiding, worrying, and cautioning, believing the walls would protect them. They were wrong. Hiding didn't work. It hadn't worked against the goblins and it wouldn't work here. The only way to protect anything is to meet the threat, to put yourself between the threat and that which you were tasked with protecting. That's what it meant to be a guard. That's what he... was supposed to be. Not even Terra understood that. But at least one other did.

He crested the slope, and there were the goats. Three of them, stumbling over the uneven ground, seemingly bereft of all the grace and speed of their living counterparts. But he wasn't fooled. He saw a bunch of them chasing a horse across the valley a week ago. All speed and relentless purpose. The horse did manage to stay ahead, by virtue of having longer legs, but on the other hand, the undead didn't tire. Unfortunately, he did not see the end of that race - the entire group disappeared into the forest.

There'd be no running here. He picked up a rock and threw it at the nearest goat. He missed, but the clatter made the creatures turn around, seeing him - or perhaps sensing him in some other way, as their white skulls were bereft of eyes. And how could they hear the rock without...

Irrelevant. They've charged.

Drill sergeant's voice in his head. If you getting charged, you either set your spear, or step aside, or get knocked on your hairy arse. He steps aside, sweeps the axe low. The goat's foreleg separates from its body, it crashes to the ground.

It immediately clambers upright, but he guessed they'd feel no pain. Bashes downwards with the shield. Iron meets skull, slams the creature into the ground. The axe follows, severing the spine, bursting the innards.

Putrid stench. Why didn't he notice before that they still have organs? Irrelevant. Sound of hooves on stone.

Turn. Too late to dodge. Shield up, brace. The goat strikes, bounces off.

It's just bones. So light without all that meat. Axe comes down, cuts off two legs. Goat tries standing. Shield bash. Axe sweep. Innards on this one too. They break off, go flying, trailing dark liquid. Goats stops moving.

Third one. Brace, bash, chop. What makes them work? One, two, three, four legs go off. Goat squirms and crawls, tries to bite. Head goes off. The body writhes. Cut the innards. Bones go still.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Book%201/29-Khainevictorious.png

Interesting.


******


So apparently skeletal undead can still bleed. Specifically, you get blood spatters (and blood trails) if you cut off their lower body. Neat stuff, huh?

[The_JJ]

My actual prefered method of rooming:

3x3 sections, smoothed, in a grid pattern 2 or 3 stories high. Generally centrally placed, though the fort tends to move since I like to reclaim mined out seams for various random things.

[Maxymiuk]

"Well aren't our faces red, eh Dal?" Zenos remarked off-handedly.

Dalantar's reply was lost in the cheer that went up from the dwarves gathered at the top of the tower, as the third goat went down under Khaine's axe.

"What did you say?"
"I said, looks like we underestimated him."
"Yeah... Or overestimated the goats."
"True, true. And he did have the axe. And all that nice armor. What did we do with ours anyway, do you remember?"
"Had to sell it to pay off your tab, Dal."
"Oh, right. Except that I'm pretty sure it was your tab, Zen."
"Nah, I definitely remember having to drag you out of the inn because you were too drunk to stand."
"Funny, because I distinctly recall that it was you that-"
"Look, it doesn't matter anyway. There's more important things to talk about."
"Oh yeah, like what?"
"Like, what do we do if Goatslayer over there turns into an insufferable prick now that he's shown what a great warrior he is?"
"You know Zen, that's what I like you for."
"What's that?"
"Your boundless optimism and positive outlook on life."

***

"Shouldn't Khaine be back by now?" Celes asked, appearing from the kitchen stairway, tankard in hand.
"Nah, he saw another herd up the stream, north of the camp and ran off after them. Terra's up in the tower keeping a lookout for when he does come back," Milski craned his neck to see what the brewer had in her tankard. "New batch? You could've brought some for us, you know."
"It's just prickeberry wine," Celes shrugged, plopping down on a seat. "Plenty of that right there behind you."
"Well, yeah, but nothing beats the first mug from a freshly tapped barrel. Especially if it's your brew."
"Flatterer," Celes snorted. "So who let him out?"
"The same question me and Idked were disputing just as you joined us."
"And it's not just us," Idked rose to refill his tankard. "Obadiah's been running around, shouting that at people for the past hour."
"Any guesses so far?"
"You, actually," Milski grinned.
"Me?! Don't be ridiculous!"
"Well, most of us were busy laying that blasted roof. Not counting Amost, that leaves four people who could've walked up to that lever unseen: Terra, Derek, Xeper, and you."
"I thought Terra was helping with the roof."
"Yeah, but she'd been gone down to the quarry to bring up more stone. But it couldn't be her, on account of her going ballistic when she found out what Khaine's doing. I think half the reason she's up in the tower right now is to have a high place from which to drop a rock on him once he does come back."
"It couldn't be Derek," Idked stated, "because he's not an idiot." The other two nodded in agreement.
"And it couldn't be Xeper," Milski continued, "because she was down in the kitchen, digging out your room. So that leaves you."
"What?!" Celes bristled. "You call that an argument? I was down there too, preparing dinner."
"Yeah, but your stove is right next to the stairway. So if she was going to sneak out, you'd have seen her, but if it was you that had to disappear just for a few moments..." Idked shrugged.
"Lurit's Tits... and did either of you brilliant deductors stopped to ask yourself why I'd do a damnfool thing like that?"
"That's what we'd like to know," Milski leaned forward with a menacing smile, "Miss Thininks."
"And what I'd like to know," Celes also leaned forward, "is what you two are planning to have for dinner tonight. Because whatever it is, it won't be coming from my kitchen."

She leaned back and took a swig from her tankard in order to hide the grin creeping onto her face at the sight of their dismayed faces.

[Rockphed]

How is it that Idked seems to get involved in everything? Did he make friends with everybody within a week of his arrival, or do you just like typing his name?

Or is it just that you have barely a dozen people to work with, so they all get lots of screen time?

[Maxymiuk]

Or is it just that you have barely a dozen people to work with, so they all get lots of screen time?

Partly this, partly the fact that I've established him as a spokesdwarf for the first group of migrants, so it's only natural that he'd get involved in what's going on at the camp, and partly that we have so many individualists and solitary types, that I'm grasping for anyone to include as "one of the guys" - the group that sits around, knocks back beers, and gossips about anything and everything.

[Maxymiuk]

Here's a few Stonesense screencaps of the camp for ya.


http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/screenshot1.png
The tower looks more like a platform, I know.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/screenshot2.png
Most of the rooms are already dug and have beds, though there's a lot of furnishing still to be done.

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/screenshot3.png


I have to say, Stonesense doesn't convince me to itself. I find the screenshots difficult to parse, even though I know exactly what I'm looking at (the way the program interprets wall colors certainly doesn't help). Furthermore, because it doesn't display the items I have stored in stockpiles all over the place, the camp ends up looking empty and lifeless.

[Rockphed]

Here's a few Stonesense screencaps of the camp for ya.


http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/screenshot1.png
The tower looks more like a platform, I know.


Looking at this screenie, it looks like there is a hole in your wall. On the upper right wall on the second level. It could just be that the ground is a level lower right there, or it could be a problem with stone sense.

Speaking of which, I think the most useful part of stone sense would be if you can show just the floor of a cavern. Well, unless your cavern is even more convoluted than the third level in my current game, where I think there is a twenty level difference between the top and bottom.

[Maxymiuk]

Looking at this screenie, it looks like there is a hole in your wall. On the upper right wall on the second level. It could just be that the ground is a level lower right there, or it could be a problem with stone sense.

If this is the part you mean:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/Stonesense-holeinthewall.png

Then yeah, I think it's a problem with Stonesense, since here's the same section as viewed in DF:

http://i517.photobucket.com/albums/u340/Maxymiuk/Dwarf%20Fortress/DF-noholeinthewall.png

Besides, if there were any holes, I've had undead waltz close enough to the camp that they'd have been able to path inside.

Incidentally, sorry about yet another long break. Next update should be up within a couple of days.

[Rockphed]

Yeah, that is what I was talking about. And, I think I can tell what is going on with that picture now that I know what it is inside DF. There is grass on top of the little cliff that blends in with the grass a level below. It is hard to tell where one bit of grass ends and another begins. :smallyuk: