Ah, my first fortress has fallen into ruins!
The embarkation went well - we settled in the swamps, which provided ample wood, hunting, and soil to begin our colony. Mining went well, and hematite was found quickly. We were soon exporting fine gems to caravans, trading for the armor and weapons necessary to equip our fledgling military. Vigorous mining soon revealed flux stone, and we were more than able to equip ourselves, as well export fine steel goods. Beating back an ambush or two convinced us we could handle anything.
We soon broke through to mysterious caverns where more riches awaited - the batmen and flesh blobs that attacked us were no real trouble. Within the caverns we found vast quantities of silk thread, upon which our weavers and clothiers worked until our fortress was exporting magnificent silk trousers to humans, dwarfs, and elves. Migrants came to seek their part of the riches, and the fortress was soon bursting with over 150 dwarfs. Then the evil came - a massive goblin siege which was beat back at the cost of some dozen soldiers. A noble sacrifice. Unfortunately, no coffins had been prepared for such deaths, and the rotting corpses created both miasma and panic among the civilians. Efforts to control the tantrums were complicated by the arrival of a new baron, whose leadership seemed to only complicate the situations\. The panicking dwarfs led to more deaths, which led to more corpses, and more panic, and a fleeing baron. Nearly a hundred dwarfs died before a new wave of migrants arrived, whose unclouded heads were able to set up the catacombs and clean the fortress.
Prosperity returned. Legendary dining halls and sculpture gardens were built. Mine shafts were thrust ever deeper, uncovering dangerous caverns and even plundering the legendary adamantine. Magma smelters were built, and soon our military was clothed in the unbreakable material. More sieges were beat back, as well as a terrifying minotaur. Construction was begun on the largest and greatest dining hall ever imagined. Migrants again swelled our ranks to 156 dwarfs.
Until one day a dwarf caravan arrived - followed closely by a terrible goblin siege! Our entry corridor was heavily trapped, which dismembered the trolls by the dozen. A few skilled goblins made their way into the fortress proper, which seemed no trouble - our brave, well equipped soldiers easily outnumbered them. Alas, the melee made its way into the trade depot and... somehow... a dwarf soldier accidentally struck a dwarf caravan guard. All the dwarfs, horrified by this violence within the race, flew into a berzerk frenzy, unable to tell friend from foe. Whenever dwarfs met, there was blood and flying body parts. None were calm enough to dispose of the bodies or rotting guts, and the fortress was soon abandoned to blood, miasma, and a few pitiful survivors, gorging themselves on the massive stockpiles of the once proud fortress.
Seven years, four months, and six days after the founding of Namecave, after a production of over 8 million db of goods, Obok Alathrashgur, legendary miner and the last member of the original seven, left the gates.