(Edit to admit my own inability to see there's a place for stories, which may be what this post surely is. Moved over there to keep things tidy.)
Greetings to all of you, veterans and beginners, to the story of a fort placed in a land full of hateful animals. A fort occupied by the ever so cowardly kobolds getting a rightfully deserved treatment for all of the thieves who stole from hard working dwarves. A fort filled with madness and complains because a useless marksbold jumped into an hallway flooding with lava to lift a boulder.
Tales of all the fun one could have, seeing sea of blood and corpses spread over the land being the playground of necromancers.
And the usual mass slaughtering of dogs and pups for FPS sake.
This is a writing of a game of mine, using one mod (Intro's Kobold Civ) so I can be a disgrace to dwarves and play with kobolds (even if I know the pain of kobolds who steals precious stuff).
Still a new player (steam release sort of new), so it WILL have the succulent moments of discovering and FUN that more than one experienced. However it's not my firts fort (may you be cursed, tutorial), which would explain some very basic knowledge applied there and there. It is the second fort that I really put time into, the first one withered by my desire to end the struggle by poking at the HFS.
Also, for the other new ones who didn't found candies and the like yet, read at your own peril as I won't use spoiler free names afterward. it's worth it to keep the joy of discoveries whenever you get that far!
With no more babbling of mine, here's the tales by the pen of the current leader.
***
19th of Hematite, Early summer
Year 7 after arrival
My name is Asrso Lorcai, leader of the clan settled at the volcano of the Defensive Crest, in the Continent of Destiny. Our fort is named Sosizlersa "Spikesscaled", house the clan of the Grim Threat and governed by the Cloudy Culmination. Our current number is approximately 66, if nobody has gone missing while I write this.
Our location isn't the worst, or so we thought. All seemed masterfully placed for the birth of kobold ingenuity at its finest. Dwarven fortresses and settlements to the west and east, kobold civilisation south, with a tower located south-west, and humans past the east goblin pits, with their own tower. We would be the first to claim a volcano to ourselves, and benefits from many trades with nearby occupied lands' merchants.
So why is there only a record kept of the fort so long after? The answer lies within the only diary we've been able to find of a past leader, whom should be thanked for putting it safely away when she gave her role to someone else. I've uncluded the pages that has been written upon into this book, so that I am sure it would be kept under my care.
-----
I am Gucos Lorarico, mediocre marskbold who has been given the title of expedition leader soon after the death of my predecessor. I am unable to perfectly narrow what day it is, nor the month. I had lost grasp of time on the field, and never managed to recover it afterwards.
Yes, I am not the first to be leading this group of condemned souls, someone was doing this before I could, and little memories of that kobold remains. They had travelled to this land, this mountain of fire, and decided to settles there for good with little food and drinks, or so I was told by the remaining man of the caravan. They had dug into a dirt bumps on the mountain's side, chopped trees and transported the stock to the safety of inside. It probably was calm for them all this time until my arrival amongst few other migrants. My worst mistake, and I am probably the only one still alive to regret it.
I should've paid attention to the howls, to the restless aura emanating from the forest. I should've turned around and force myself within the hometown's populations. I should've been a coward, because cowards lives.
But it's too late now.
As the miners worked into digging inside the mountain, and the leader wrote down a plan of his, the first attack happened. A group of wild feathered fiends, eagles, targeted anyone who were outside. Nobody thought much of it, as all they've done were scratches into our clothes before they were slain. It seemed ridicule, as if such a little attempt was all that could've been sent to us.
And then more came, group after groups. More birds, more animals of the land to come at us, it exhausted us slowly, until the giants arrived. Giant crows, albatross, dingos. It's when we suffered losses, when the mother who made the mistake to birth hatchlings perished, their little ones to be eaten like meals served on a gold plate. The temporary dirt house wasn't safe anymore, we needed to hide underground with haste, while the miners were only half way through digging the inn.
we ran past the bridge, without being able to lift it as no levers were built, but at least this forced nature's army into a single passage that we could defend. Sadly, our leader was felled, and so little could've been collected from the butchered body of their. Even their diary was torn to shred, erasing history of our fort. I swear that, the day the body was found and the leadership was given to me, I've heard the forest's laugh and the eerie sensation of being watched by forces full of ill intents.
I was such a naive woman, arming myself with a steel crossbow to valiantly defend my people whenever water was needed from the pond, or wood was to be brought inside. I fended off threats with the best of my abilities, as my experience with ranged weapon weren't remotely good. I saw death, horrible scenery of one's limb taken away, of bodyparts exploding into red splashes, of remains all around me, and of the ever present beating of my heart deafening me during the constant fights that plagued us all.
We tried to reclaim the outside land as much as we could, we needed to, as was the will of my predecessor. But no matter how much we did, our resources were the one to really suffer as less and less kobolds were healthy. The medical bay filled up, more injured than beds, while the forest still had another batch to throw onto us anytime we had defeated the ones before. taking a step outside was now suicide.
The only solution I found was to order the miners to dig down, dig until we breach inside a cavern if one were to exist, and then I waited. As I waited, and as we still fought, some scouts reported the presence of dwarves roaming about. The words were confused, but all I had gathered is two of them that, whenever spotted, would run away. I thought nothing of it, as they weren't direct threats. My focus was on something else.
And then, we broke through the ceiling of a cavern, the same day that I had been harmed. While everyone cheered, I was brought to the medical bay soaked in blood of mine, and of the assaulter. My right wrist mangled, the same way that my left knee was. I was bedbound, gasping for air as the shock finally grew stronger than adrenaline. I was unaware of my surrounding for a few days, and once said awareness returned was I disappointed to observe how I was still severely injured. In fact, many were, revealing the horrifying situation to me: the fort was disabled.
No matter how many orders of building walls within the underground alcove, or of raising memorial slabs for fallen ones were sent, no one was in a shape to do anything. We were exposed from both the surface and the depths, and neither waited on this. Hordes of troglodytes barging within, meeting with giant crows, resulting in raging chaos inside our halls. It stayed that way for a year and a half, all the while the two previously seen dwarves sneaked about. If it wasn't for that one migrants group who survived their arrival, we would've slowly withered.
Oh that I am grateful to their dedication. They could've abandoned us at the first sign of danger, but they didn't. The wall was built, and when the spirits of our fallen brethren grew impossible to handle was when the slabs were placed. It was the light all of us needed to raise our morale that was so low.
A respite that ended so quickly. The two dwarves returned, their reasons of being about for two years finally revealed. They were necromancers, who raised a little group of kobold corpses and marched toward us. They weren't fooling around, choosing deceased who were proficient soldiers, a grim new as none of my people were armed nor able to fight. People were felled, more scream and terrors plagued us, and it would've been the end of us if it wasn't for this goblin visitor. A single person, fully covered in plated armor, taking over the assaulting forces with ease. We couldn't thanks him, as we had to return our home into a livable place once again.
And now, the fort is more lively. More souls joined us, while we still loose some every months. We lost count long ago, pleases the dead who show themselves, even if one had mauled to death a peasant. I am still bedbound, still with open wounds who hasn't been taken care of, and still leading. My body is broken, and my mind should be as well. I do not know how I am still considered a leader, as I cannot do anything at all. Each day draw me closer to insanity, listening to outside conflicts that echoes into the medical bay. I relive the horrors so many times, at some points would hope that I didn't survived, that I should've fell like the others. Maybe it will happen soon.
Enough people lives here, the role of expedition leader has been planned to be replaced, the same as a new ruler will be elected. Someone will take the burden off my shoulder, and regret it.
To my successor, I can only advice you to run. Run far away, and forget of this cursed mountain, unless you seek to have your life shortened.
----
Sadly, Gucos has been found dead after a necromancer visitor revived corpses in self defence, which led to a swarm of skeletons and body parts that led to said necromancer to perish, as well as more or less 30 losses. in the future, we might consider necromancy related activities as criminal and act accordingly.
In the meanwhile, fort activities are half booming. in its current shape, Spikesscaled only have crafting stations, magma forges, an inn and 6 temples with lacking features. We were unable to do more as finding a way to build better defence was the main focus. Following the first leader's plans, which took me long to understand their scribbles on a dusty parchment, is a sort of revenge onto the forest.
Trees were cut, cleaning this part of the land the same way a dwarf would to spit to an elf's face after an absurd demand was thrown in negotiations. No elves are the receiving end of our action, however, as we only do so for the four selected miners to level the area. It will take years, but it is a task I am willing to not only follow, but also complete so that my name will be remembered with the quotation:
"The one who kept us safe, forever."
It is, however, not a shared feeling amongst my citizens. They complains of many issues, mainly due to trauma, then followed with complains about comfort, lack of guild halls, lack of beds, lack of mugs and many more. While I do hear their points, I believe that all of them need to toughen up. We have so little to work with, our specialist continuously being murdered, then replaced. Plus, we can't dig out more rooms as of now due to the full-time project ongoing. I would've loved more help of their to make things go forward, but they're more interested being vocal and watch the faded ones having breakdowns. At least it keep the inn alive, our safe haven away from misery.
I do, however, think of how to make the situation better. The only goods we're able to export are seeds, produced in great number thanks to the farms located in the cavern. If we want defences, we will need ores to melt and man to trains. Having one system isn't enough, as it wouldn't be sufficient against aerial dangers, plus if the fort is breached, the only other plan is by taking the matter within our own hands. I will look into a place to make the barracks, borrowing the miner's free time into it while we research a way to make steel. Wrestling is efficient, but a helping of weapons and armors would be appreciated.
Siege weapons would've been perfect if it wasn't for the awkward position our area behind the bridge was. Too small, and no line of sight toward the only path that foes would take. This was one of the many mistakes that past leaders has done, and I had to work with, one being of failing to assign medical personnel to their dedicated rooms.
May Sycr find pity to give me, and keep me safe from the insanity that my predecessors have done.
At least I can admit they had thought about other issues before I take over. Correctly walled off caves to have sufficient soil to cultivate plants. Once I find out a way to remove the parasite mushrooms, I could expand within the safe perimeter of the first farm area. A production of pig tail would cut the need to risk ourselves for silk, and wheat would be a fine treat to us.
The wells area is also another protected part ready to be harvested, with more soils generously giving itself to the impatient farmer. I still need to figure out what else could be planted, or if it would be better used as a pasture for our herd animals. If only the cursed assaults of forest foes didn't slaughtered our hens, we would've built nest boxes for egg productions. The only way to change it would be to get on our knees and beg travelling merchants to trade some with us.
I would've been insulted by the thought, as everyone have even an inch of pride, but the situation doesn't allow me to be picky. I can only wait to see how the future goes. It always comes back to waiting, all the while getting beaten repeately. Fate sure has odd plans for us.
***
Morale of the story: Untamed wilderness + tower = FUN
Which I needed. Anything that makes moments interesting is enough to forget the long and uneventful time of that cursed tutorial land.
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Topic: Spikesscaled, fort of kobolds in a constant war with nature. (Read 523 times)