Cresting the ridge, Osime Whiproar raised her hand. "We stop here," she commanded. The other six elves following her slumped to the ground, their few belongings making muffled thuds as they did the same. The animals that they had brought along - a veritable zoo, if it wasn't for the lack of variety- looked about in confusion before beginning to idly wander about. "These lands were once the homes of our people. They will be so again." The clack of wood striking wood echoed through the still-snowy woods as she slammed her fist onto our chest. "We are the last of our kind, and indeed may be the last force of good in the world. The dwarves lay buried, consumed by their greed. The humans cower, kneeling and cowering before the lash of their goblin overlords. We, the first and greatest of all creatures, shall reclaim this world. This forest shall be the last bastion of good in the world, and the last hope for all of us."------------------------------------------------------------------
So, I genned a world in which everyone but a couple goblin civs went extinct in the first couple decades of worldgen. (Excess megabeasts are to blame.) I decided to challenge myself and resurrect the elven civilization first, using my Elf Mode mod. Other than that, the only sorts of "cheating" in this game are maxed embark points and that I will eventually mod in a way to get a pickaxe, since elves can't make them and they cannot be traded for in this world. Might also end up tweaking the raws temporarily because brewing likes to break itself and this map has no river despite what the embark screen said.
Here's the embark:
And the elves.
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Without further ado, I'll begin the story, attempting to record events as they happen.[/size]---------------
Late Spring
The elves immediately set to work. A heartwood shrine was erected while one of them told the animals the basics of war and fighting. Nest boxes were placed for the black mambas; they would provide a valuable food source and could fend off smaller threats to the bastion's existence with their powerful venom. Whiproar, however, was unhappy. "Who said there was a stream here? I see no stream. Do you expect us to exist in a perpetual state of drunkenness, living off of booze like one of the rock snugglers?" No one volunteered their name, and after a short time she sighed. "Fine, then, build a still. If these are to be our last days, then we may as well enjoy them." One of the farmers immediately set to work while the others did their best to erect basic fortifications and gather supplies. As they worked, the snow blanketing the landscape slowly thawed. They were short on barrels, so they quickly started to assemble a few, grumbling about having to drink stagnant water as they did so.
Midsummer
The elves were shocked by what they saw coming over the horizon. Three dusty, travel-worn figures coming from the east quickly resolved themselves into elven survivors. The seven intrepid settlers greeted the newcomers with laughter and tearful hugs; it was shameful for some to display such emotion in public, but every extra person meant a dramatic increase in their chances of survival. After the celebration died down, the newcomers quickly got to work; their "fortress" was still little more than a lean-to and a few workshops. The settlement was far enough away from trouble that they should have enough time to build fortifications without worry, but every member of the group could be seen casting nervous glances at the forest around them, waiting for a goblin ambush to extinguish the light of their species once and for all.
Author
Topic: Abaquemera - The Last Bastion of a Dead Race (Read 691 times)