My children are gone. I thanked Selor for my three children, but now I have none. My little Cerol and my darling Ast were taken by the snatchers. The bones of my smiling Thikut lie still in the stinking jungle, where he was cut down a stone's throw from the stockade. My own wife is injured and scarred. And broken. She grins stupidly despite passing Thikut's remains every day as she cuts down wood. I suppose its all she can do, without wood to sustain our camp, we would be hard pressed. It pains me, I can find no solace with her company.
Thikut has rotted to bones; I don't think Eral recognizes him anymore (Eral circled). Sometimes when her chores are finished she looks for him, or the other two kids, also long gone. It doesn't seem to bother her.Eral has been ecstatic lately. She was forced to endure the decay of a child. She has lost a child to tragedy recently. She has been satisfied at work lately. She has sustained major injuries recently.Screenshots of Slothen and referenced deities.
Why so exposed? We are forbidden to dig. Picks of any sort are not allowed. Why is that? All I know is that at first, we didn't have any. I certainly was not the one who forgot to bring them. We had a full year of huddling under our wagon, splitting logs, fighting off emu's, kobolds, and dark stranglers. By the time the first caravans came to supply us, many of us were at the point of burrowing into the damp loam with our hands just to get a good nights rest. When Lorbam was ready to barter for a few picks, he was stopped by Quint and Katana. They had been doing all the kobold-killing, and were the only ones with weapons. They made sure the traders left with all their picks in tow. What could we do to stop them?
I don't know why they keep us from digging. I don't know if I ever will know. But I do know the results of their absurd decree. Three years of living in a tiny walled stockade. Too small for 10 dwarves, let alone 50! There is no dormitory, instead we have a corner where some beds are haphazardly piled. This placed is so stuffed with dwarves a meeting hall is redundant, unless you try drowning youself in the bog there is nowhere you can stand and not reach out and touch your stinking-neighbor. There is no dining hall, instead we squat among the workshops and log stockpiles in the rain. Our grand entrance consists of "that one hole in the stockade that you can drive a wagon through."Screenshots of BloodSyrup
The ground floor is a crude stockade. Most of the space is taken up by corpses, wood, and plant barrels. There's also a Trade Depot, a few cramped workshops, some beds, a well over the springs in the east, and two farm plots.The second floor is an ammunition stockpile and training floor. The third is merely a protected ledge extending over the entrance, providing our jelly shooters a commanding line of fire over the bloody clearing in this stinking jungle.Diary of Slothen "Glovedtalons" Regkidet, 12th Felsite, year 19.Something... different happened today. I was browsing the corpse stockpile, looking for something to cut up, when mayor Lorbam approached. He told me that effective immediately, I was to be in charge of civillian work orders and stockpile records. Our conversation went thusly... "You're stepping down as mayor?" I said
"Woah Woah Woah, what gave you that idea?"
"Well, you're giving me all the work the mayor is supposed to do."
"I'm giving you work that I was doing yes, but I'll still be the mayor, meet with dignitaries, and issue mandates."
"How
noble of you." I muttered.
"What did you say?" Lobram raised his eyebrows and frowned at the same time. i think he was trying to be threatening.
"Nothing. Do you realize I'm the brewer? I've already got the most important job and you're giving me the second most important job, and on top of that my children are dead and I'm the most depressed guy around here?"
"Incidentally, that's why I'm giving you the responsibility. The militia, myself, and the majority of the other civilians are perfectly content with the life we have here... You seem to be the only one with concerns about safety and living arrangements. So, I'm giving you a chance to make something of it. If it does well, I might get myself promoted to Baron. If not, we can always send you back to your butcher's block. Of course, if the booze runs out, I'll have Quint use you for target practice."
"Will I get a chair to manage the production orders and the books?"
"Yes."
"I'll do it!"
"You should talk to Katana. He'll need to know I've told you to manage the muppets for now."
"The what?"
"I mean the civilians, go tell Katana you'll be managing the civilians for now."
Katana. I hadn't given him much thought since he and Quint stopped us from getting picks those years ago. While Selor blessed Eral and I with children, Katana defended the fortress with a growing and increasingly hardened cadre of "Jelly Shooters." They built a mountain of corpses outside our crude wooden walls. But for them, we'd be dead. But for them, we'd be safe underground, and my children would still live. I clearly have some unresolved feelings here. And now as the civilian leader, I was Katana's counterpart, and together we were entrusted with the safety and prosperity of the members of The Early Gem, founders of BloodSyrup, with the Lazy Mayor Lobram at our head.
I found Katana cleaning some tigerman blood from Uzolkashez Oillesson, an imported bronze sword that Katana named after earning thirty-nine kills with it in defense of the fortress. As I approached he gave me a rather intimidating glance. As I began to explain myself, he interrupted.
Oillesson appears to be an ordinary bronze sword, but it has become legend."Yeah yeah, I heard all about it already. Listen, now's not a good time to talk about it."
"Why is that?"
"Urist and Edzul on the roof spotted some Blendecs headed this way. I'm getting the militia ready."
"Blendecs? what's a blendec?"
"Damned if I know, but Urist says they have bronze armor, so this could be our lucky day."
Or our last day, I thought to myself. "Have you told any of the civillians? What are you going to do?"
"I'm telling YOU
now. We're gonna do what we do best, stand at the entrance and make some corpses. Make sure the muppets stay out of the way." He dismissed me with a wave.
I was too furious and shocked to speak. I turned and climbed up to the roof to get a better vantage point to see the new foes, and to give me a platform from which to yell out orders to our whole encampment. In the distance I saw creatures, horrible monsters that made my blood run cold.
Animated by lumps of cassiterite? what?
Ironic that the symbol is plump helmets, considering we don't do underground farming.
These things are look scary.
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OOC
Nearly everyone is ecstatic except for Slothen. He is the least happy dwarf.
This is a wierd fort. Its so small everyone is legendary in social skills. No furniture or rooms, decaying bodies, exposure to rain. Everyone is ecstatic.
Corai will be dorfed as the +5 bone carver.
Author
Topic: [Succession] BloodSyrup- Above ground | Fort Defense | Titans Everywhere (Read 8819 times)