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[Gigmaster]

Just about! I also updated the pending dorfings... still waiting on the fall immigrant wave. Assuming that they're lucky enough to dodge the five zombie giant ogres outside....

In other news, admantine!

We'll have some interesting posts come winter.

EDIT: *Long Sigh* And we just had our first death: Bembul our miner took a swan dive into the magma channel he mined out moments beforehand. Bembul, may your idiocy be instructional for all miners to come.

[Vanaheimer]

As long as Parshuram made it through the sudden changing of worlds, it's all gonna be fine

[lockman766]

* elevator music*

[Gigmaster]

You're lucky Vanaheimer. Two Ogres made it into the fort, and our three warriors (Myself, Para and a sad, sad red shirt) rushed out to do battle. The red shirt forgot her quiver (actually, I hadn't had a chance to make a second one.... ooooops), and was killed by a sudden flock of giant thrips from the west. Para had a tendon in his left ankle torn, and he limped back inside after fending off the wave of undead giant thrips with his trusty iron crossbow, leaving Gigmaster out by himself with the two giant, undead ogres........

And I survived.... somehow. Gigmaster (who's a he now - must have just been a really WEIRD dream) is also now mighty, very agile, has great kinethetic focus, and is skilled in the spear and accomplished as a fighter. So after fighting two ogres for about four days, I'm now really buff.... but I'm also really depressed. Turns out that Bembul, the miner who took a swan dive into the lava channel she made, was my lover....... and I'm now pissed off that my lover's corpse is decaying outside of the dwarfs's grasp.

So, yeah. I might beserk soon. Good thing I have that slab coming out right the f-k now. Also: statues. Statues freakin everywhere. The fort might depend on it.

[Gigmaster]

16th Moonstone, 351



The rain was abrupt, immediate, and it soaked into the small journal before it could be stowed out of sight. Gigmaster Ugithadil, the Necrowall of Fortress Ducimkol, grunted in annoyance and tossed the book aside. It had been... fun writing about his dreams. Dreams of a fort that didn't seem to be staring in the face of undead invasion every day. Even if he was a woman in those. Gigmaster shuddered, adjusted the straps of his iron breastplate with a shrug of his shoulders. At least he had still been a Warrior, he supposed.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The noise of the topside hatch of their fort (hole) popped open behind him, revealing Kingfisher, the fort's founding builder. "Seen anything?"

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"No. And won't, Etur willing." Now that the last attack had been fended off, they were taking the time to gather in last season's wood, which had been left in neat little piles when the wave of giant, rotting thrips carcasses had swooped down upon the workers. Wood. Wood! Precious now, with Dodokuvar, the Chef and Expedition Leader, unwilling to enter the highest cavern for fungi-wood and tower cap. The backwards nature of it still baffled Gigmaster.

"It would be God sent, if anyone could see anything in this." Kingfisher dipped her head sidways, shedding her hat's brim of half a bucket of water as she scooped up another pile of wood in her arms.

"Liason?"



"Oh. The new guy who came in?" Fisher chewed her cheek momentarily as she considered. "Looks decent. Still coming off that nervous high when I helpd Farmer Bomrek with gathering in the plump helmets. He'll get over it eventually. He's poking around the stockpiles now, making sure everything's 'up to spec' or some nonsense." She sighed. "But it looks like things are going back to 'normal.'" The sound of distaste - and a little anger - came through in Kingfisher's tone. Gigmaster had long ago pegged her for a Striker - someone who resented the caste system. Some had come to Workedwheels of their own desire, or for money. Kingfisher had come, Gigmaster figured, because she had been caught in a protest and shipped away like many other of the nation's discontents.

Pact-breakers. I'd rather have them than all the married couples the mountain homes keep sending us. Gigmaster gritted his teeth.



Bembul Tiristdeler - his brief, momentary flame before tripping over her own pick in carelessness - still burned in his heart every night, though the pain was a little easier now. The first defense against the necromancers of The Hills of Distrust is no place for husbands or wives.



Gigmaster foresaw much grief in the years to come.

He finally realized that Fisher was standing right there, the stacks of logs still in her arms, trying to get his attention. "Sorry?"

"I said, he's going on a tour of the fort as we speak. Dodo's hoping he can convince the guy to send us more workers. We're going to need it for the wall before not too long."

"It shouldn't be hard, Fisher. The Heroic Syrups need us." He gave a long look to the south, to the planes of dead plans and crawling vermin. "I just hope they know how much they do."

[Vanaheimer]

I'm alive! If slightly crippled. But alive! That's a minor miracle for a dwarf.

[Gigmaster]

((Don't get your hopes up Van... ))

16th Granite, 352

Expedition Chef Dodo is showing Mebzuth around the fortress...

Chef Dodo:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"... And as you can see, the booze stockpiles are good, food stores are good, I just sold your traders five of Smith Dohon's serrated wheels... " Dodo scratches at his beard. "Which your men sold almost everything they had for."

Smith Dohon:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Yes, this is Dohon... his nickname isn't showing up in his bio. Vampire? 

They sat together in the mess hall of Workedwheels, the first of the curtain wall of forts The Heroic Syrup was erecting as a desperate move to contain the Necro-power of the Distrustful necromancers. You couldn't tell from here, though. The wide, chisled tables were finely built, the chairs, sturdy and suitably cold, and the excellent wine matched the chairs. It was one of Chef Dodokuvar's finest brews so far. And she hoped it helped warm Medzuth up a little... the dwarf had been coldly tallying everything away during his whole stay.



Maybe the Liasions should start staying in the forts they visited... might help them understand what it's like out here.

"Yes, yes, hmm, in spite of the ravenous, undead flocks of ravens, your group has managed to establish quite the beachhead out here. You are to be commended."

"Why. Thanks ever so much."

A thin smile. "Oh, come now Chef. It's not like there aren't hundreds of dwarves just like you doing just this as we speak. You situation is not unique, you know."

"Tell that to friends and family when you have to give them the bad news."

The smile grew strained. "Chef Dodo, the last fort I visited was a seething, stinking ruin of corpses. I suggest that you take your relative good fortune in advisement."

Huh. So it's an act. Interesting... "I guess I will. My apologizes Liaison Mebzuth."

In answer, he drained his mug dry and held it out for a refill. Dodo wheeled over the spicket'ed barrel and obliged. "So, we've gone over the personel reports and common courtesy stuff. Anything else you need for the general tour?"

"Yess... I heard that you had a couple of incidents with one of your warriors. Something about a wrecked workshop?"

Oh geez... "So? He just lost Miner Bembul - we all did - but it hit him the worst." Dodo glanced over her shoulder at the small row of coffins and slabs behind her. Bembul, Shorast and Parshuram lay there... Bembul from her own clumsiness Shorast and Par from the Giant Ogre attack a couple of months before, though it had taken weeks for the infection to kill Par. "He loved her - we all did - but there was something special between them." And Dodo could still remember it, too. Bembul Tiristdeler had been a hell of a woman - tall, broad, strong, tough as a yak bull, and possessed of an innocence strange in someone so imposing. She had also been as dumb as the rocks she had mined, but Gigmaster had seen past that.

"Ah. I see. And... the workshop?"

"Gigmaster... threw someone through a mason's bench the same day. He... kind of flew into a berserk rage. But he's... better now. Hasn't hit anyone in ages. And we need him, Mebzuth. Those two ogres outside would have killed us otherwise."

Mebzuth paled a little. He had seen very clearly the two heaps of rotting ogre flesh outside the walls, blessedly still while outside the blight. No one had really worked up the courage to move them yet.



"Understood. But if he becomes a liability - "

"He won't. Now, how about we start at the top?"

Mebzuth took a moment to wipe the chalk dust off his hands - the stuff seemed to get everywhere in the fort, seeing as how all the major living areas were hewn out of the stuff - then stood and nodded. "Yes, let's."

[Gigmaster]

((Chopping these posts up - I lost half of this whole bloody thing to a power blip. Weeeeeeak.))

Ground-side, Dodo and Mebzuth casually kicked chickens out of their way as they made a circut of the small, cramped conditions. Not much had changed since the hasty erection of the walls when they had arrived the spring before. Through the east walls hung partially constructed walls and floors, parts of an addition that the Builders of Workedwheels rushed out to complete when the all-clear was sounded.

"When do you think you'll be able to start on above-ground crops?"

"Honestly? I couldn't tell you. It all depends on how much time we can get. But what I do know, is that getting seeds for them is going to be nigh-impossible."

Mebzuth scratched at his beard in thought, calculating. "I do have a couple of trade contacts with the Mithidica - the Mithadathi - the... ugh. The Mythical Elves to the east. They could have the seeds middle of this year."

"Great. What about more dwarves? If we're having this much trouble getting the addition done, there's no way we're going to be able to tackle a wall."

A... smile? grew beneath Mebzuth's beard. "You'll have your dwarves Chef. Trust me. Entrances?"

"Happy that you asked. Two. One is where you came in - cage trapped - and the second is the hatch over head."



"We just finished adding a small, shielded entryway to it, and the traps are already being produced. We use it mostly for running wood inside."

A faint, thumping sound through the roof caught Mebzuth's attention. "Dare I ask what that is, Chef?"

"Oh, that?" Dodo grinned humorlessly. "That's a Owl Man's hand, flopping around."

"Hand?"

"Oh yes. The stories are quite true - near anything will get up and walk - or flop, or roll - around in the blight, if once alive. Gigmaster got a little to enthusiastic when a tribe of them swept by during a wood cutting expedition, and several of them were chased south into the blight. Myself, I sort of like it."

"The hand?"

"Yes! It's a good reminder of what sort of sick stuff we're up against Liaison. I hope it keeps on going."

"You're very strange, Dodokuvar."

"I know."






"A working hospital? Complete with gypsum, thread and bandages? Not to mention the well to the left... I'm impressed."

"Oh?"

"Well, most forts don't really bother for years. Or ever. I saw one fort that had 'HEALZ' carved into the wall, with an arrow pointing down to the incinerator. Thing is, most of the crazy loons believed it."

"We did loose one of our founders to infection, Mebzuth. We took it rather personally, especially when Sage Bhaal pointed out to us how immediate care could have saved his life."

Sage Bhaal and her husband...

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

They continued down the central staircase; Mebzuth noted the flanked chalk statues of the fort's founders and started writing something down in his notes. "And the living quarters are also looking good, Chef Dodo... "



"We like our people to not throw fits about living in tiny rooms just big enough for their beds."

"Mmm. Practical luxury. I like it."

"I've heard of thousands of forts collapsing from nothing but bad living conditions, Mebzuth. I rather hope you would."

A strange, quiet light came into Mebzuth's eyes as he stared down the corridor, his gaze distant. "Yes... yes, I've seen my fair share of fortresses in my time, Chef Dodokubuk. In fact, you could say I'm something of an expert on the subject." For the first time, Dodo really noticed the web of worry lines radiating out from his eyes, his mouth. Then his attention returned, sharp and focused. "I see you're carving out more room?"

"Expecting lots of new people, Mebzuth." The unsaud So don't disappoint me hung in the air between them.

Then Mebzuth smiled, and held out his hand. "I still believe you have the under-levels of the fort to show me, Dodo. Ladies first?"

She hesitated. But she took it.

[Gigmaster]

"Through here's the entrance to the first major cavern we discovered when we sunk our first shaft down to the lava layer." The corridor from the the central staircase wound around to the right and out of sight. The air felt... heavier, down here.

"I heard that you banned access to the caverns."

Dodo smiled. "Well, yes, that was before we installed a bunch of serrated blade traps through there... hence why I suggest that you don't walk down there without knowing exactly what you're doing. Dohon was pretty proud of the quality he put on those edges; I don't want to test them out on you."

"Mmm. Point taken. And you needed the wood, I assume."

Dodo gave him a second look. "So you really do know your stuff."

He shrugged. "Say I have a feel for the rythym and pacing of a dwarven fort. I figured that if the above ground areas were too dangerous... "

"As hell."

... "Then you'd have to come out here eventually for wood. Though I still can't understand why the laws are still standing for builders: that beds must always be made from wood. Stone floors've always suited me just fine."

Dodo looked around warily. "You... really don't want to be saying things like that, Mebz. Word gets around."

"Word. Word? What do I care about words?" Mebzuth barked a laugh. "Our absent minded monarchs probably don't know I exist, and those who order in their name know that they need me. I have no need to worry about words. But you do."

Dodo blinked, the subject change throwing her off. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me, Expedition Leader. Your 'word' has already reached the capital - No, I don't know how it got out!" Mebzuth said, forestalling her before she spoke, "but you need to make sure that you respect the caste boundries from now on. You're being monitored, one way or another, which means no more yelling and screaming at everyone to pick up chisels and mortar when there's a calm moment outside. You understand?"

Dodo fought against the urge to chew on her cheeks as she fumed. Betrayed? By why? Those flee-bitten shit heads... "Yes. I... understand."

"Good!" Mebzuth barked; Dodo jumped. "Because exile will kill a dwarf as surely as the undead will."




"Ahh, yes. I was wondering where they were."

Dodo took a moment to fan the sweat on her face. "I assume you predicted this too?"

"Naturally! No coal, little wood, lots of undead... " Mebzuth grinned as he looked out above the lava-powered forge area. Everywhere the hammer sigil of the Smith caste was stamped, on anvils, on cooling racks, on quenching barrels. "You needed good metal. And lots of it."

"True. Only problem is," Dodo said, gesturing over the mostly silent forges, "it's not quite producing at capacity right now."

"I can see that. Yes, yes, dwarves, help, it'll come, don't fret your buns off. I take it this will be where you forge the parts for the lava stack?"

Dodo nodded. "Without sand, we're going to have to fall back on iron for everything... "

"A pain, true. But at least you've carved out a good area for it." Mebzuth looked around conspiratorially before he crept closer. "I heard that you... found something?"



Dodo hesitated. If the monarchy heard what they found... not to mention every treasure hunter on the continent... "We might have. I... might have more details for you on your next visit."

Mebzuth glowered. "Next visit? Girl, I might not be here next time; Death waits for no one." He paused, considering. "Just... don't be too hasty. If you know the stories... just be careful, you hear?"

Chef Dodokuvar, Expedition Leader swallowed. "I hear. I know."

The silence stretched as they looked at each other with silent fear, mixed with equal longing. Then they turned, and went up the stairs without a word.


*          *          *

The rest of the visit was much more pleasant; Mebzuth stayed a little longer to celebrate with the rest of the citizens of Workedwheels a pair of births by the miners of the fort.



The final piece of business was organizing and assembling records of everything going on in the fort, which Dodo dutifully wrote down (if while grumbling the whole while... )

The fort so far...

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

And so Dodo sent Mebzuth on his way, along with his traders from the homelands, still happily tossing back congratulatory drinks over their expensive purchase of the serrated blades... Dodo swore she would never understand capital people, especially old Mebzuth. But... there was something different about him. And she hoped that she would get another chance to talk to him again, come next year.

... That was, assuming that both of them were still alive.

Their guests gone, Workedwheels closed its gates, barred its doors, set its traps, and, once again, shut itself off from the outside world.

[lockman766]

Doctors notes

  Entry 1: Well it would seem I will have to be extra careful in my duties here. Not only is there the constant threat of undead outside, but a chance of an infestation inside as well. I'll have to keep my critical patients restrained if one dies on the operating table there's a very good chance they'll get up again, and try to kill me. On a positive note this a golden opportunity to study zombification as we still have no idea what causes it. I will find out.   

[Gigmaster]

HIGHLIGHTS FOR NEXT UPDATE

-I get my act together and put together a stat list on the OP for all the named dwarves!
-I upload the save for anyone curious!
-Mebzuth REALLY MAKES GOOD on his promise. As in, 'WTB space'
-Gigmaster gets something to do besides kill Giant Horned Owl Men!
-Everyone gets named!
-ICE CREAAM!!!!

[Gigmaster]

A series of notes lay scattered in Gigmaster's room; they look like pages that were turn out of a writing journal. What follows are the notes that are still legible.
 
2nd Hematite

FINALLY have all the people from the last caravan settled in; helped localize the five other Warriors in the bunch.



That's me up top, with Corai next to me, and the three marksdwarves watching the hill side: Lor Lenoddeler, Nix Athelgamil, and Parashuram the second, all good men. It gave me the strangest chill to see Parshuram's younger cousin – he even has that crazy, waist-long mustache braid Para always ran around with. He said that he had never really talked with his older family member, and that the loss hadn't hit him too hard. Dandy by me. Stakud, our third front liner, should have been here helping us guard the new construction, but he had an appointment with a barrel of Dodo's wine. *sighs* I really hope he doesn't make it a habit.

The newbies have double timed the work on our new armor. I really have to hand it to them: they do some damn good work.



It feels damn good again to be suited up in good, solid iron. Everyone else's is almost ready too...

(The rest is torn away)

8th Hematite





… And the forge area is clear finally. Clear. To be fair, it might have helped that I rounded up all the new Smiths and Miners, and drilled into their brains the importance of magma saftey for two days straight... They've never quite looked at me the same way since. But at least I'd put good money on them thinking twice before screwing themselves over.

And the builders have the temporary barracks set and ready to go... apart from the furniture, anyways. But the archery range is good to go; Nix and Para were giving it a good test run earlier today.

I won't lie, the fort feels... different now. Not quite the same. If Bembul were to... come back, I'm not sure she'd recognize the inside. The outside, of course, looks just as haggard and sparse as ever; it apparently resembles a clay brick jammed into the hillside, or so the new arrivals say. Though I got the feeling that that's about to change: I noticed  Dodo, Kingfisher and that new Bhaal guy shutting themselves away in meetings for the past week or two, and all they've ventured so far are demands for more paper and stencils. But something tells me that work on the keep is going to start up before the snow flies.

… It's weird having things built on time now, compared to the backlog from before.


19th Hematite

(Most of the following page is torn or blotted into illegibility with blood; the first lines of understandable writing detail a series of injuries.)



[…] “And Lokum – that ass-kissing Bureaucrat – demanded that we hold them off, because “It's about time we stood up to them” and yadah yadah. We're lucky that that flock of nine didn't do a hell of a lot more damage... as it is, Corai's going to be in the hospital for a couple of months. (At least we HAVE a hospital now.) That raven tore half the skin from his neck off...

It's a shame most Bureaucrats find ways to get around militia duty...

Smith Eshtan dropped the chalk boulder he had been carrying up for the builders and ran screaming when he saw the ravens picking and flocking around us. At first the people down below thought he was just scared witless. But as it turns out...



It was something about freckles of all things. Yelling at the top of his lungs as he ran down a young miner and scooped up his armful of copper bars. We're all waiting anxiously to see what he comes up with... he won't let us see a single thing of what he's doing down below.

At least he won't trip over any stray rocks...

(The rest is smeared away, except for the following scrawl at the very bottom of the page.)



Anti-climax ahoy. Nothing special people, move along. Shame it's so useless... it's damn good work. At least the artisans will have something interesting to carve images of, I guess.


1st Malachite

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

They're going to get killed by freaking undead moth people. I can't believe this. Gotta run.

(The writing resumes with a much calmer hand.)

… Oooooor not. Anti-climax number two.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

They didn't even see the nine immigrants coming in from the west. They just wafted around on half-decayed wings over to the east, and eventually fluttered off into the blight. It was the weirdest thing... it was almost like they were leaving the dwarves alone on purpose.

Though I'm probably just reading into things too much.

Hah. Hah hah hah.

Good news though: one of the newbies is a damn good Warrior, ranger-class, called Udil Edemor. We added her to the second squad for now and assigned her a full suit of armor. Bomrek-knows that we have enough now; they're practically swimming around in armor pieces down there, or so I hear.



… And now we're fifty strong.


25th Malachite

Everywhere I look, there's new construction.

(What follows are a few rough layout sketches... )

Nobles quarters and administration

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The expanded living quarters

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Etur know that we need even more – we're currently looking for rooms for over twnety dwarves still. I guess it helps that all the married couples can share bedrooms...

And....

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The sherrif's offices, Hammerer's quarters and a couple of cells going up below administration. I could lie and say that I don't think we'll ever need these, but...

The biggest news is the start on the main keep of Workedwheel. The center of the fort is something Kingfisher is calling the 'conduit' – basically, you have a large column that everything branches off from, and inside it you house your magma pumps, your water pumps, garbage chutes and incinerators, machine power couplings... everything that an advanced fortress needs, easily accessible and centralized. They'll also be skipping every other floor to allow for water and magma plumbing, so that we don't have to deal with the mechanical mess most forts seem to degrade into.


Current plan is to carve out the conduit stack a good ten, twelves levels deep, then carve out a long-term storage and workshop area. By that time, we should hopefully have enough people in the military – and enough militia trained up – that we'll be able to hold our ground while the Builders work on the above-ground structure...

(The rest of the pages are washed out in blood and water.)

[Phones]

I love what I have read thus far and can't wait to see more. Could I be dwarf'd as a Male Speardwarf also?

[Gigmaster]

Thanks man! It's my first public fort period, community or otherwise, so any advice'll help here. I'll go ahead and dorf you as the third melee guy we have right now... he's a competent maceman, but I prefer spear guys anyways for the cheese, so I'll just have him retrain.

Oh - and by the way, I owe Kingfisher an apology. I got things mixed up somehow, and called his guy Olonezum this entire time... (Sorry! That was you all along!!    ) I went back through all the posts and changed the name to Kingfisher, and I just swapped it out in the game and on the front page. Sorry sorry!

... (honestly don't have any idea how that happened).

[lockman766]

Doctors notes

Entry 2: Different place same injuries. Corais' wounds are pretty severe he won't recover quickly, and even if he does he may not be able to serve in the military again. His neck looks like ground meat, and his ankle is severely broken I'm going to preform surgery soon hopefully he makes it I'm restraining him just in case.