Bay 12 Games Forum

It's Loss. It concerns the secrets of life and death.

:.|:;

I think he's a werebeast caught mid-transformation.

All the more reason to be suspicious.

I think the fact of the matter is that every fortress replicates, to a certain extent, the mines of Moria at Khazad-dûm. Keeping dwarves happy means creating industry and craftwork, and giving them ample chance to experience pleasurable art. Whenever you delve too greedily and too deep, you either get rekt by forgotten beasts or the Balrogs under the earth.

Or at least it should replicate Moria, if you're playing like a true Scotsman.

I will humbly request the save, even if you've already retired our great fortress. Especially if I'm still creating insane shit.

Depending on your os, you might be able to press the little speaker in the bottom right corner, go to sound mixing or whatever it's called and select individual programs' audio level. You can mute specific programs.

Didn't they kill the audio mixer in Win11? Fuckin' M$.

Vindler will train muscle.

seems like you've brought us up to speed with military quarters, very nice.

Of course. Expeditions to the undergourd should be taken incredibly seriously. Who knows what horrid creatures are festering under there.

Save.

Unfortunately wasn't able to get much done, additionally this turn is without images. I'll include the notes from the beginning of my first turn to make up for the brevity.

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1st Opal, 109
Edmikel Laterigon, Baroness Consort of Shadebolt visits our patch. She is enraptured by our manor overlooking the fields.

2nd Opal, 109
The miners have carved a heart opposite to the chosen location for my office. How wondrous! I shall keep it there.

3rd Opal, 109
The work on my office begins. I'll have it smoothed and decorated with carvings after it is hewn. The rocks are always more welcoming than those greens up above. It is so much quieter down here, it's easier to read. I'll stay down here for a while.

22nd Opal, 109
Lauloh Salinieard gave birth. How nice. I renamed her to something more fitting, as she was the first patriotic birth I'd seen.

Sometime in 110,
I designated a space for a guild of metalwork. I had it furnished with beautiful rock furniture and a forge, as well as individual chambers furnished with statues of the guild's symbol.

25 Felsite, 112
Work begins on expanding our vines beneath the ground. Beneath the grasses and soil, there is a reservoir of fire which will allow us to ignore our lack of suitable fuel for iron refining.

Under current plans, three individual garrisons hewn from rock will be manned by ten pumpkinheads at all times, as to prevent the undesirable creatures of the underwhere from penetrating our lovely surface. These garrisons will serve as centers of military training as well as soldier dormitories. More work must be done to see if we can get food to them automatically.

A peasant caught in the fields is sent to work in the mines. He wasn't assigned to anything else, and we've more work to do underground.

27 Felsite, 112
Nanazie Knesmandea is found dead.

He was found in the uppermost cavern layer. Assumed cause of death: run in with foul beast. This death only reaffirms my belief in the need for military forces guarding entrances and exits to the caverns. Imagine if what had killed Nanazie had broken into our fields? Our farmers would have died.

2 Hematite, 112
A catling thief invades. A squadron of miliary pumpkins is dispatched.

3rd Hematite, 112
After a protracted chase lasting well into the night, the Maroon Axes dispatch the nasty thing.

12 Hematite, 112
A caravan of humans arrives, bringing with them a diplomat. He held a meeting with nobody, instead hanging about in our tavern. Actually, does our mayor have an office to hold meetings in?

He doesn't. My head is too foggy currently to work on building one for him, and I doubt he'd be as satisfied with an underground one such as mine.

16th Hematite, 112
Boulderpleats has been conquered. The military campaigns of our other overseers work successfully, and I am happy to see a village remain no longer under the grips of Bogeys.

My celebration was cut short, however. The noise of my hearty friends and the damnable buzzing from the sun have given me a splitting headache, one that I nurse in the relative seclusion of my personal forge. I wish that the sun could warm me as it does my peers, but I suppose I shall take my heat from the fires of my forge. This buzzing in my head causes me to lose focus. It is untenable, though it quiets when I am underground. When we have an industry of metalwork setup above this great reservoir of fire, I'll have to move my offices down to there. The fresh air does not agree with me, and the gaze of my peers seems always to judge. I will pass the development of these systems elsewhere, to my compatriots.