I haven't been playing for very long, but I really enjoy this game. I wanted to share an incredibly fun fortress with you all. I originally posted this in the Dwarf Mode discussion but it was suggested I move this here. I'll be updating this thread as the story plays out.
I have a tendency to regenerate a new world each time I start a new fort when I lose interest in one or it becomes so slow on my machine I can't bear it. I think if I could somehow turn off pets I'd be okay because migrants always bring them and refuse to let me send them to the butcher. Anyhow, I figured I'd make one world and keep at that one to build up some history while exploring in Adventure Mode. I generated a large map set to end when 50% of the megabeasts died, but checking at year 2. This hopefully will mean I'll run into them more often. Plus, I hated that all my worlds started in the year 200.
In the spring of '42 a group of seven dwarves set out with the idea of creating the trading center for the eight great dwarven houses. They stopped their wagon at the mouth of a troll cave. They were never heard from again.
In the spring of '43 a group of seven dwarves set out with the idea of creating the trading center for the eight great dwarven houses.
The embark map looked like this:
? ^ ^ ^ ^ ?=Other Feature
~ ~ ~ ~ O ~=Underground River
# # # # ^ #=Chasm
^ ^ " " " O=Bottomless Pit
^ " " " "
^ Mountain - Dolomite/Gabbro/Diorite - Wilderness
" Temperate Shrubland - Clay Loam/Dolomite/Gabbro/Diorite - Calm
Although there is no magma (which I haven't yet played around with yet anyway) it looked like there were going to be a lot of nice surprises. Not to mention that there was a nice mix of sedimentary and igneous extrusive layers. So in addition to lots of flux there should be a wide variety of ore. I don't know what these other features are. I've seen some spoiler warnings in the Wiki so I'm guessing it's a pretty big surprise. Don't ruin it for me, I'll find out soon enough. The chasm is visible on embark, the river and pit are not. The shrubland has a staggering amount of trees and I already begin scheming how to enclose them all in a massive wall.
Tradesnarls: Strike the Earth!
Year 43 of the Age of Legends in Elathu Ewe
Headmaster Urust Ushul's Journal
Expedition Notes for the Banner of Trading
Embark Staff
Headmaster Urust Ushul
Blademaster Nish Sashasoddom
Shieldmaster Cog Loratir
Woodmaster Tulon Tashemlikot
Hidemaster Zasit Ibrukiteb
Bonemaster Sodel Aknunnil
Stonemaster Edzul Rirathel
Spring '43
It immediately becomes apparent that this place is inhospitable. We halted our wagon at the edge of a huge crevasse. It almost splits the land given to us by our master, Minkot Tongsfish -- praised be -- in two. Going around it will be troublesome, but on the other side trees and a few ponds can be seen. We will need the wood to fuel the forges once the tower caps we brought run out.
The skies are filled with giant birds that look like fearsome swallows. At night when the swallows sleep the giant bats come out to prey! Even more numerous are the half human half swallow creatures that seem to plague the land. I have called them swallowmen. They disturb me greatly. The ground is littered with ratmen and gremlins skitter in and out of the shadows. Priority was to get underground quickly and worry about traversing the ravine later. We have dug a mine shaft and built a tower with the waste stone so the crossbows can keep the flying nasties at bay while we move supplies underground and finish digging out a livable area.
Summer '43
Excavation has taken more time than I expected. Then again, none of us are miners by trade. We have gotten all supplies below and organized and sealed off the mine shaft. We should be considerably more productive without two guards on duty all the time to watch the skies. We have built a drawbridge across the chasm to allow entrance into the fort.
I ate a fine turtle recently.
Fall '43
Our caravan showed up as expected, although it didn't do us much good. Curse it! They brought one measly barrel of wine and a few peices of meat. No rum! It boggles the mind that they thought elaborately ornamented plate mail would be something this new expedition might be able to afford. At least I was able to meet with the liason and put in a request for more useful and cost-effective supplies. What we have will have to last us the next year.
I have instructed my Blademaster, Shieldmaster and Hidemaster to use up our remaining supply of hides and metal. We are going to need it to clear out the previous residents of this area.
Winter '43
This has been a trying season.
I am not sure what lies the caravan merchants spread about our wealth and fortune but we have had none. Nonetheless, you could just feel the chill of winter in the air when a group of migrants showed up unexpectedly. The fools. Rather than taking the safe route through the calm woodlands they were traveling off the roads through the mountains. They were immediately beset upon by a group of ratmen. One of the migrants was crippled and fell behind. Despite the fact that his brave donkey, enraged at the wounds caused to his master, tried to defend him, the two were quickly cut down. At least he didn't have any family to miss him. I ordered the Woodmaster, Stonemaster and Bonemaster to arms to rescue what migrants they could. The attack had scattered them and they were running in different directions, none of which was towards the fort. One of the peasants, unaware of the dangers of this land, escaped the clutches of the ratmen by hiding at the bottom of the chasm.
Eventually we were able to clear out the many ratmen lurking in the mountains. The swallowmen and other flying creatures prove too elusive and will have to be handled some other time. Once everyone was safely inside the fortress the remaining migrants were either conscripted into the military -- to relieve the more skilled founders -- or handed a pick and told to dig to earn their mushrooms. I ordered the Stonemaster to stop his strange task of making door after door to build two coffins for the fallen migrants. We left the donkey, brave as he might have been, to rot.
After checking my stockpile list it became apparent that we would not have the food stores to last until spring. The only viable soil is on the other end of the chasm, so I had the conscripts halt their drills and stand on the bridge as watch. This let the miners clear an area to make our entrance more defensable and to allow for crops. One of the miners, clearly not liking his new career, volunteered to be the planter. It's just as well, we didn't have much more clearing left to do.
I was approached by a marksdwarf, Reg. He explained that he was a Ranger and that he could teach his Trapper companion to hunt the groundhogs in the forest for meat and fur. I didn't like splitting up our defenses but considering how dire the food problem was looking I decided it was worth the risk. And the mountain goat biscuits and groundhog roast was sure tasty after eating dried turtle meat for almost a year. Unfortunately, the rest of the fort was busy with other tasks so the unpleasant job of butchering up their kills fell to me. And I started to get worried when they began bringing back much larger prey. Reg explained that most of the forest creatures must have moved further south for the winter. Since they were clearing out the giant swallows and bats, it seemed like an acceptable risk. It turns out it was not.
It was the 4th of Obsidian, a day I will remember well.
I had earlier in the week instructed the miner on how to effectively stripmine. Rather than digging from the top down, dig ramps up. It's always safer to dig up than down! This is what my father taught me, and what his father taught him before he was killed in a cave-in. Which was somewhat of a coincidence since my father was also killed in a cave-in. The miner seemed confused and terrified when I told him this but set to task anyway.
The first sign I knew something was wrong was that the ground shook and pebbles fell from the ceiling onto my ledger. This usually does not happen. Not even when Edzul drops a door on the ground. Then I heard shouting from outside. I couldn't make out what the yelling was about so I headed toward the drawbridge and was met with a cloud of dust. As I stepped through into the sunlight I could see Zasit and Sodel digging through the pile of rubble where the hill we were stripmining used to be. I stared for a moment before I noticed Tulon nearby. He had brought his axe back to finish chopping a tree, but was frozen, just staring at the rubble. Without moving he explained to me what had happened.
The miner miscalculated the height of the hill and, thinking he had cleared enough of the top level, dug out the foundation. The top of the hill fell and, since there were very little supports left, pancaked the whole hill. Underground, the farmer and the entire crop of plump helmets were crushed. The force of the collapse and the debris it scattered knocked not only the miner into the ravine, but the two soldiers standing guard on the bridge. Along with their weapons and armor.
The hunters didn't return from hunting the previous night. Considering their propensity to sleep on the ground, it wasn't exactly unusual. But it also meant we were unguarded. I explained to my Woodmaster that the axe he was holding was the only thing we had between us and the beasts. He turned a pale green. He still hadn't moved when I went back inside a few minutes later to speak to Edzul. He was caught up in his work on making yet another door and didn't realize what had happened. I told him to make four more coffins. He has been getting grumpy lately.
That night and the following night the hunters did not return. A search of the forest revealed nothing. Up in the mountains above the fortress we found most of the body of the trapper. The empty quiver and feathers stuck to the handle of his crossbow indicated he was trying to kill a giant cave swallow by bashing it with a poorly crafted wooden crossbow. We never found the ranger, or his steel crossbow, bolts and armor. A broken steel bolt near the edge of the chasm leads me to believe he, too, has fallen in.
Ore and gemstones be damned, this chasm has already claimed five dwarves before the first year is out. I have named it Blundermaw. On the plus side, the food problem solved itself. There were once again only seven of us.
We gave the trapper's blood soaked leather armor -- minus the sleeves that was torn away -- and I had the Hidemaster use our last peice of groundhog hide on making him a sturdy leather shield to protect himself with. Despite my repeated ordering him to stand guard on the bridge to watch for thieves, he stays well inside the confines of the fort. He also takes a rather unusual amount of drink breaks, something I will bring up at his next performance review.
When I told my Stonemaster to stop making doors and make two more coffins he threw his chisel at me.
Spring '44
We had a visit from the elves this spring. Their visit coincided with the visit by a couple of kobold thieves. Tulon took care of them though. Whack whack! I wish I had seen it, but I was busy at the depot trying not to fall asleep during the boring elf welcoming ritual. Fortunately, this wasn't time wasted. After disposing of the kobold bodies and quickly cleaning off their gear I presented them for trade. They seemed keenly interested. This was good since we had little else that they would have found interest in. They brought a bunch of berries, roots, twigs, grass and other barely-edible disgusting stuff. It makes foul brew and even fouler of a biscuit, but it beats starving. We also picked up some piles of cloth. Not sure what we're going to do with it. Still it's probably better for trading to merchants who don't have the business sense of a turnip like these pointy eared freaks.
After rebuilding the farming area, Sodel has taken it upon herself to handle the crops. Either she is doing something wrong or Zasit is a lousy cook but the food recently has tasted terrible. I have a feeling it's both.
Edzul has stopped making doors. He is now making cabinets non-stop. I don't know if he sleeps anymore.
My Blademaster has completed what she called a "devious and ingenious" array of traps to protect the fortress in case a nasty gets by our lone watchman. I was all excited until I saw it was just a bunch of rocks that drop from the ceiling. It actually looked quite dangerous and I'm always uneasy whenever I walk through our entrance now. I am starting to get disappointed in some members of my team.
Summer '44
It seems news of our victories over the two mighty kobolds has been sung far and wide in iambic pentameter. The bards have apparently omitted the fact that everyone who joined our fortress last year met an untimely end. We received nearly twenty new recruits, some of which actually have skills we can use. After I gave them a four hour lecture on the dangers of Blundermaw I assigned them their responsibilities.
The weaver brought her child, Shorastam. He doesn't have a second name and I don't trust people who don't have second names. Especially if they don't do any work! So I don't have to refer to him by his only name I have taken to calling him simply the boy.
A human caravan found our fortress. Apart from a paltry amount of food and drink -- which is considerably better than the swill the elves brought -- they brought a bunch of armor too big for us to wear and a bunch of bars of metal that isn't really weapon quality. They also had a ton of cloth, much to the delight of the weaver. We did not buy them, so the weaver went out to gather some cave spider silk. I suggested she take the boy with her to keep him safe.
This metal problem is becoming somewhat of an issue. Despite the good reports on the geology of the site, we have yet to find any ore within the mountain. I have ordered more exploratory mining to dig deep to try and find a useful vein. Fortunately one of the migrants was a bowyer and, since we had a lot of wood lying around, was able to carve up a bunch of crossbows and bolts. Once again we have a militia. Although Tulon is getting tired of guard duty, I'd like the recruits to go through a little bit of training before I put them on watch. Bats can be somewhat hard to hit with a bolt.
One of the migrants, a miner, had a spark of inspiration one night and locked himself in the mason's workshop. A week later he emerged and despite smelling awful had and built this magnificent bed out of nothing but dolomite. I swear, you've never felt stone as comfortable as this thing. It's definitely a bed fit for a king. After a large meal and an even larger drink he got back to his mining, but there seemed to be a zen-like quality to his work. I spoke to him about it and offered my ramp suggestion. Afterwords he didn't say anything for a while, then insisted on taking charge of the mining crew. I had been meaning to delegate that responsibility anyway.
The recent caravans made it clear that our suppliers probably need some help in finding a safe path through the mountains. Fortunately among the migrants were three masons. They put their heads together and designed a road and series of barriers from the drawbridge through the woods. It will take some time to complete but should keep the caravans from traveling through unsafe territory.
Fall '44
Another one of the miners went nuts and built some crazy statue. Now she too has suddenly become a uberminer. Worse still, she has taken to hanging out with the other uberminer and I think the two of them are telling jokes about me. They always seem to stop laughing and look very serious when I walk by. They did have a good idea however. They noticed a vein of magnetite up in the mountains that they assure me is very large. We could use the iron, but we need to clear out the swallowmen first. I tell Tulon that it's only one more season of duty and order the militia to cover the miners and haulers. They bring back an unbelievable amount of ore. The Shieldmaster and Blademaster get to work smelting it all.
We had been running short on living quarters so we start digging out one of the lower levels. In the process the uberminers discover an underground river! And it's full of cave fish and, what we soon discover, frogmen. What is with this place and all the blasted mutants? While this is a good thing, our military is stretched thin enough and we can't handle holding off any more of these freaks of nature right now. I order the wall sealed. Before this can be done, a group of frogmen and olms break in and mangle the dyer, who eventually bleeds to death. I never got her name. Tulon and the marksdwarves manage to kill several of them and push them back long enough for Edzul to plug the hole with a stack of doors.
When the caravan arrives, I'm disappointed to see they brought exactly what I asked for last year. Lots and lots of bars of steel and iron. Of course now we have so much magnetite ore I'm using it for furniture. At least they managed to bring a lot of booze.
While I'm arguing with the liaison and suggesting they bring what I need that year and not the previous year I can hear the sounds of a scuffle at the drawbridge. A group of goblins has ambushed the wood haulers right by the entrance. Of course I miss all the good fights. Nish was near the entrance, fiddling with her traps and saw the whole thing. Three of the five marksdwarves, who had yet to receive their armor, were very quickly cut down. Tulon, was just coming back from picking up the new set of steel chainmail Cog had made. He immediately went into some sort of a trance, swinging his axe in huge arcs. Four of them dropped to the ground, two of them headless. The five remaining goblins immediately broke and ran. The marksdwarves picked off two as they fled but the rest got away. A kobold and goblin thief each seemed to try to take advantage of the chaos and slip by undetected. Tulon dispatched each with one blow. We never found the kobold's head, and it's assumed to have been an offering to Blundermaw.
Tulon has been very different since that day. He now insists on being called Tulon Tashemlikot Akilifin Deg. Four names! That's three more than the boy has! I asked him what that meant and he just got this far-away look in his eyes. I think he's been on the front line too long. Just as soon as I can find replacement recruits he needs a long vacation. Besides, we need him to make more beds.
Winter '44
There are stones everywhere! Seriously, I think when the uberminers mine out a room they are somehow creating rock from thin air. I'm going to ask them to just supervise the mining corps. Although the inexperienced miners clear rooms slower it's because they chip out everything down to gravel, which is much easier to clean up after than these huge boulders.
Somehow a giant cave swallow got loose in the fortress and killed a fishery worker. It took a while for Tulon and the remaining marksdwarves to hunt it down. It kept fluttering up and down the staircases. I think I designed too many staircases in this damn fort. During the commotion a goblin managed to sneak through our defenses and make off with the boy. At least, that's the prevailing theory although no one actually saw this goblin. I don't think an investigation into the matter is a good use of our resources. I never liked the brat anyway.
Word of Tulon's bravery must have spread, because we almost doubled in size thanks to the new wave of migrants. One of the peasants asked me if it was true Tulon has killed 1300 ratmen. I told him it was probably closer to 13 and he seemed even more amazed. I don't think he realized that 13 was a smaller number. At least what these migrants lack in brains they make up for in numbers.
The masons finally finished the road. While they were building it they weren't building fortifications which might have protected the marksdwarves. Then again, I can always conscript more marksdwarves. Especially with all the new migrants showing up at our door. And I think it was worth it to have a nicely paved road leading to our fort. As soon as they finished, one of the masons was possessed by some strange force and locked himself in the mason's workshop. When he emerged he had made an impeccably crafted quern. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to have turned into another uberminer. In fact, he doesn't seem to even remember the ordeal. There's enough stone littering these halls anyway.
When I speak to my Stonemaster next, I'm going to ask him why every bloody dwarf in this fort seems to be producing perfectly crafted furniture except for him. I also need to ask him what a quern is.
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Topic: Tradesnarls: Strike the Earth! (Read 781 times)