Travel log of the wandering stone-artisan Felcis Lularasen, some time in Granite 256
We have been 4 months at sea so far and no lands in sight. The ship does not really make the most reassuring impression on me, but what would you expect for such a suicide mission? No solid warship with a royal escort that's for sure.
Still, we must not give up hope. Land must be near, according to our maps and our mechanic Dalex swears that the crude steam powered engine will hold long enough for us to reach our destination. Many of us mutter about the rumors of that so-called deathtrap "Markedangels", but I will have none of it. A dwarven fortress without a few sacrifices is without glory and by now they will have managed to secure the area with dwarven steel and ingenuity.
And even if there is still room for improvement: How bad can it possibly be?Meanwhile at Markedangels...
The situation is direEverything is horrible. A large part of the remaining survivor's consist of children, crippled and wounded. Only one mining-tool remains to do the necessary work and it's wielder is not of the responsible type.
Hords of ghosts haunt the reeking hallways, angered by the lack of respect for their legacy. The artisans can only slowly appease them with memorials.
Still hope remains: The sieging goblins, tired from beating an invincible bunny-zombie, give up and leave for more juicy (and less cursed) targets. Most like they didn't want to get zombified themselves...
The best thing those useless children can think of to fight the letargy is throwing distracting parties. All that does is earn them a well deserved spanking, before said parties get disrupted.
Travel log of the wandering stone-artisan Felcis Lularasen, 2nd Slate 256
Huzzah, land is in sight. We were already closer than we thought, but some weird fog masked it's coast. Be it as it may, the fog cleared and the course is obvious. Soon we will reach the legendary Bagsnubslozgo Kusnath and be safe behind mighty halls carved by skilled dwarven craftmanship.
But I hear Dalex shouting something. My next journal will most likely be written on a table inside a mighty fort...Meanwhile back at Markedangels...The ghosts still go rampant and once again claimed one of the few survivor's.
As before, the fearsome Ghostly Private seems to carry the blame.
That terrible event did wonders to motivate the masons and engravers though, as they managed to finish a lot of memorials in record speed. A few of the worst tormented souls have been put to rest.
More raise in their places though. This place has no shortage of anguished spirits...
Just as dwarves have no shortage of recklessness and curiosity it seems.
Travel log of the wandering stone-artisan Felcis Lularasen, 21th Slate 256
Damn Dalex and his cursed engine! We almost reached the coast when that thing catched fire out of nowhere. It only took mere minutes for it to explode and tear the entire ship apart. At least most of us were able to reach the coast, but now we are scattered and need to make the rest of the way by foot, without any provisions. I can just hope that we at least get a warm welcome when we are there. Well, not time to curse or write, we have to leg it before Armoks knows what gets us...Meanwhile back at Markedangels...The mechanism of the former overseer Twangykid seems to be working. 1 presser, a child and an alpaca managed to get inside. The latter gained so much traumatic experience by crossing the haunted landscape that it instantly matured.
More migrants arrive on the scene and still wait outside though and there is also another guest that has arrived...
Travel log of the wandering stone-artisan Felcis Lularasen, 14th Felsite 256
We made it inside! Just me, Dalex and a few others. Many more are still wandering around on the cursed earth outside. They came late, because we were scattered after the shipwreck and could not risk wait for anyone struggling behind us. And damn, was that a good decision after all what we saw happening outside.
As scary as that creature was, I am glad that it appeared. Who knows if those trolls would have let us pass if they still had all their organs and bones intact. After killing most of the trolls it transformed back into a goblin and ran away.
Not sure if we should feel much safer inside here though. On top of the general depression of the inhabitants, our new home does have some serious problems of the supernatural kind.
Even long-time veterans in the middle of the main hall are not safe it seems.
With such a fearsome enviroment, it is no wonder that the population prefers to have large orgies in a shared bed, to comfort each other.
Also the lack of manpower seems to be so severe that a one legged clothier is forced to travel through the entire fortress to pull the all-important migrant-lever, that also opened the gate for us. I just hope that the rest of our comrades will make it inside as well. I for one still miss my trusty puppy...Journal of the new overseer and stone-artisan Felcis Lularasen, 29th Felsite 256
Much and more has changed in the two weeks since my arrival. Our leadership and my position for starters. But I will start where my last journal left of.
We managed to get a few more survivors inside the fort after us, with Vieto crushing a cursed pursuer with our gate mechanism.
Those were the last signs of life that we saw from the outside world, though. There were reports of a large gobling army that most likely laid siege upon this whole area shortly afterwards.
I fear that both my dear puppy and all the other migrants (should have been around 10survivors left) got massacred.
Since the situation looked more and more hopeless with the nonexisting leadership, I stepped up to the task. My recent knowledge of the surface might prove useful in solving a few of our more urgent problems.
Also on another positive note, a child managed to survive long enough to cross what most dwarves call "the border to usefulness" and become a real member of society, potentially worthy of respect.
Most importantly though,the captain of the guard, who is also the chief miner, and I were able to secure a tool that our fortress was sorely lacking.
Yes, we finally got an anvil. We also got another pick and a lot of cloth for the bargain. The miner dug up, after we secured the passage with drawbridges, and quickly channeled the spot with the dead merchant-animal. Thanks to the immortal bunny, the goblins were too busy to even notice that whole event.
And that concludes my first spring in the infamous fort Markedangels.
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Phew, I'm sorry for taking so long, but I really lacked the time to play a lot the last weekend. And the framerate is pathetic, mostly fluctuating between 3 and 7FPS for me. I almost finished a much less eventful summer and hope that I can put up the next journal soon.
Also don't expect any interesting superprojects before autumn. I have all my hands full with the basics right now.
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Topic: [Succession Game] Markedangels The Water Of Living (Read 136731 times)