There follows a short story about the fortress of Axeplait, and why I had to abandon it.
My previous fortresses had all been moderately successful or locked in perpetual siege, leading me to abandon them to their inevitable AI-driven doom. I therefore decided to embark in a new place, removed from nefarious towers but in an evil biome, to give some challenge. The challenge, however, was rather lacking, mostly taking the form of animated owls and pangolins (according to Wikipedia, a sort of anteater with scales from Malay, where they are known as "something that rolls up"). Following my previous experience in evil biomes with a military armed with swords, I had a pair of soldiers armed with maces. The military's lives were spent in an idyllic haze of blood, eventually developing a tactic of waiting for the zombie owls to fly near, then smashing with the mace, and watching as they fly into the distance. They would sometimes do this in pairs, and the sport of dwarven tennis was introduced to the world.
Everything kept going pleasantly, with only the occasional insanity to disrupt the fort, and Axeplait grew to a population of roughly 60. Then, it happened. During a particularly vigorous game of dwarven tennis (a structured league had now developed, complete with corrupt nobles), the head of a pangolin was torn off. Little did Urist McDjokovic know, the head was to cause such carnage and devastation it would eventually be named (the name doesn't really matter, just focus on the fact it had one).
The nameless and inconsiderate forces which occupy Axeplait decided to raise the head from death. However, this time they realised something. Zombies, mindlessly killing all living things, do not require any real intelligence, and so do not really need a brain. So it was that Head was created. Head rolled towards the soldier on duty, and was batted away. It repeated this over and over again, as the dwarf chased it around, beating it into a pulp. However, the dwarf sensed that despite the shattered skull and brain, some trace of life persisted in the remains of this poor creature, so swiftly decided to stamp it out. One day of solid, determined pulping later, the dwarf passed out from a mix of exhaustion, excitement and dodgy beer. The puddle of brains and blood then employed the most powerful (and, ah, only) weapon in its arsenal, and pushed the dwarf in the head. Some more dwarves arrived to help the stricken soldier, but all fell unconscious from overexertion as well.
The dread scheme of Head had now emerged: wait for the dwarves to overexert themselves, then nudge them until their fingers are all broken. I honestly lost my entire fortress like this, as all 60 of them ran around madly throwing themselves at a puddle of pangolin-mush and ending up with only broken toes and momentary satisfaction. Although this was irritating for me, they all enjoyed themselves, and it is hard to think of a more dwarven way to lose a fortress.
This is my first post (yes, I have an excuse!). Feel free to post comments (providing anybody actually reads this). They will be much appreciated, or politely ignored, depending on their level of flattery.
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Topic: Axeplait (Read 850 times)