This is the journal of Talvieno Violencelashes, entry number three. Our master engraver Fen is here as before - I wish I could do what he does, but he does a better job of it than anyone else. I'm lucky to get his services at all, honestly, but we've come to an agreement. He gets a bigger room, I get an entry. That's the way things work here - we trade work for work. Life without currency is possible, though not quite the way they did it in Star Trek... I miss those shows... But anyway.
As we huddled within the fortress, arming ourselves with rocks, spears, and whatever other weapons we could muster, we heard the goblins taunting us from outside the great doors we'd built, at the entrance to the mountain. They spoke their own language, yes, but they also spoke dwarftongue - and apparently, somehow, english as well. They laughed cruelly, saying they knew we wouldn't survive forever. I don't know just how much they knew, but they were right. We were out of food - our party and wedding reception had used up the last of it. We had water, as we had our underground well, but there was no booze left. Without access to the outdoors, hunting was no longer a viable source of nutrition. Slowly, slowly, of the course of the next week, everyone began starving. Finally we were desperate enough to kill and eat the cats, regardless of how little meat there was on them, and regardless of any inner pangs of guilt - but the butcher's shop was outside, and no one wanted to learn what miasma really smelled and looked like.
Just as we'd decided to throw the scraps into a hole and cover it with a stone, we noticed something - the sounds of the goblins' mining past the south corridor had stopped. Not only that, but the goblins outside the entrance were no longer taunting us. Loud Whispers, his hand still in a cast, suggested we open the doors and see if they'd left. This, of course, wasn't an option. As we sat in the food-forsaken dining hall, we all discussed the best course of action. "Dang it all!" Splint suddenly yelled, and everyone quieted, looking at him in surprise as he stormed out. I'm a curious person - often too curious for my own good - so naturally, I followed.
Splint raged down the hallways and finally stopped in front of mayor Karakzon's door, pounding on it with the flat of his fist. "Karakzon!" he yelled, and the owner of the name promptly came out into the hallway, an indignant expression on his face. "What's the meaning of this?" he asked sharply. He looked half asleep, but Splint didn't seem to notice. "Karakzon, I've had it with this. Everybody's saying 'No, I can't do that job, I don't know how' and 'Aww, but I don't have any training in this'. Well, screw training! I'm offering you my services, I'll do just about anything you want. Except forging... and medicine... and I wouldn't trust myself with mechanics, either. But that's beside the point!"
"Calm down, man, get ahold of yourself!" Karakzon said sternly. "Fair enough - you've got permission to do any job you want. You can start with the farms. We need to eat." Splint's face softened, some of the frustration leaving it, and as he turned to walk away, Karakzon called out to him, "Splint, wait! Tell Oliolli I want a buckler made." Splint stopped, turning in wonderment. "A buckler??? Whatever would you need a buckler for?" I looked back at Karakzon, who hesitated. "I saw it in my dream," was all he would say, in a somewhat detached voice. After a few moments, Splint continued down towards the farms, leaving me alone in passage, in silent thought. It wasn't quite a mandate, but abruptly wanting a buckler didn't really make sense to me.
At this point, Karakzon spotted me standing alone in the dark hallway, and wanted me to explain why I was there. I honestly didn't have a real reason, but I told him that the goblins seemed to have retreated. I told him Loud Whisper's plan, but he gave me different instructions.
Following orders, I took my pick and mined upwards towards a cliff-face we'd carved into the rock on the mountainside. After a bit of work, I breached the outer wall, and sunlight flooded once more onto my face. It seemed to fill me with a special warmth, and I closed my eyes for a moment, taking it in. I didn't have cavesickness yet, that was sure... But suddenly an unfamiliar voice called out from below. "Heyaa, laddie!" I looked down, searching, and finally my eyes rested upon a steel-clad dwarf bearing a very menacing axe, dripping with blood. "Whatcha all cooped up in there for, eh?"
It wasn't long before the whole fortress knew that the goblins were gone, and we'd been saved. We rushed outside to find a caravan from the mountainhome - which came as a surprise to us, despite having recieved migrants just a few months before. As to our onetime migrants, they seemed to know them, and exchanged greetings joyfully. We, on the other hand, created a bit more of an awkward situation, as we gathered in an irregular group facing the merchants. After an uncomfortable moment, the liason decided that while we didn't look like dwarves, we were on their side, and clearly doing a "good job", as he put it, so he'd "look the other way". Most of us exchanged smirks at this statement, wondering where he'd gotten his information from, if he thought we were doing well.
It had turned out that when the goblins attacked, they'd dodged our cage traps (perhaps they needed to be a little less obvious), but the stonefall traps did their job. Stonefall traps are rather simple to make - you build a large platform held up by a single pole, and place a large stone atop the platform. Just beneath the top layer of soil you put a pressure plate that tips the pole when stepped on, thus releasing the stone. Fortunately, if you know what you're looking for, it's pretty simple to avoid it, and it seems goblins can't figure out how they work. Our rows of stonefall traps had killed at least seven of them and wounded most of the others, despite being blatantly obvious as to where they were located. The remaining goblins limped to the fortress and stayed there for about a week before the caravan had arrived, which dispatched them with ease - especially since the goblins had to run back through our stonefall minefield to attack them.
Karakzon took charge, and called out one of the idle Bay12'ers - HorridOwn4ge - to be broker. He had a pretty decent personality, and some skill with appraisal, it seemed, and everyone was more than eager to let him do the trading. He accepted the position gratefully, bowed, and even gave a pretty fine little speech. After that, he went to "get a drink" - and we didn't see him for the next week. Before he left, though, he gave orders that our surplus mechanisms be taken to the depot, and over the course of the next seven days we hauled mechanisms until we thought our arms would give way. The traders' eyes grew large and they shook their heads incredulously as they stared at the vast quantity of mechanisms we'd produced - we'd crafted over half a thousand in only six months. Granted, it was largely due to the fact that we had well over ten people who wanted to be mechanics, but still - they were awed by the variety and quality. When HorridOwn4ge finally returned, he made a deal with them, and we quickly found ourselves to have in our possession a decent quantity of the finest booze and food to be had, in addition to a number of pieces of armor, weaponry, cloth, and other various useful-looking tools. Honestly, we weren't quite sure what all of the tools were supposed to do, but we were able to think up our own ways to utilize them.
Finally, they left, and we were far better off than we'd ever been, all thanks to our mechanics. Everyone was in better spirits - even KodKod, which surprised everyone. She assured us it was just because there was wine again, and kindly suggested we keep our doors locked that night.
Oliolli crafted an iron buckler to appease Karakzon's demand, who immediately demanded three stone slabs be constructed and put up in his room to better display it with. I'd thought he wanted to use the buckler in combat, but... obviously not. As for everyone else, it was decided that with some of the new tools purchased we were going to make paper to write down our as many of the stories of the "old world" - Dracula and The Lord of the Rings, for example - as we could. KodKod suggested we lock everyone in a room and force them to either finish the books or starve - I didn't like that idea as much. Due to my dictated journal entries on the walls, I was considered a potential writer, along with Girlinhat, Splint, HugoLuman, DS, Sus and a few others. Fortunately, none of these people wanted to be locked up in a room (I certainly didn't), and Girlinhat was considered exempt from such a punishment job by the rest of the fortress. Even so, HugoLuman helped us to create reed parchment paper. I helped bind them in my spare time, as I'd had some experience with bookbinding, and Wierd (our self-appointed alchemist) mixed up some ink for us, as he said charcoal wouldn't do the job. Following this, he took a number of plant products we had and took them into his workshop, after complaining that we hadn't bought anything more useful. It wasn't long before he'd produced twenty bars or so of sweet-smelling chocolate-scented soaps, a few of which KodKod promptly ate, to the protest of her stomach.
As the days afterwards went by, it began to get cooler - the temperature finally dropping low enough to just barely freeze the surface of the pool outside our gates. At that point, a number of things were decided. Firstly, we needed to get a heating system built for the rooms (and the dorms, for those unfortunate few still sleeping in them). Second, a chimney or two in the dining hall would be nice (and of course, this job fell to me). Third, we needed new clothes. In the games, I remeber dwarves were okay with wearing xReed Fiber Socksx for a while... I don't know what condition those were in, but ours had holes through them. A lot of us had holes in the knees of our pants - my jeans did, for instance - and some of us were dressed for summer, and half-frozen most of the time. I didn't really mind only having one set of clothes... but most of us did. This was something we couldn't really go without, we decided, and White_darkness took it upon himself to make clothes for everyone with the many bolts of cloth we'd purchased, producing some pieces that were gratefully accepted.
Girlinhat went to the forges and crafted us several more iron picks, utilizing her metalcrafting skills. She'd never forged a pick before, but she had a good idea of what she was doing. We could've gotten steel - we have plenty of dolomite - but we needed this stuff right away, and we quickly forged some more bolts for the hunters, as well as some basic weapons and armor. With more picks, we drafted Ultimuh, Miauw and EmperorJon to mining duty.
Almost immediately afterwards, Oliolli carried over an armful of assorted objects and actually ordered KodKod out of one of the workshops, locking himself in when she left in disgust, plotting revenge. We had a good idea of what was going on, and all of us, at one point or another, idled about the door, wondering when he would emerge. Finally, he did. I wasn't there to see it at the time, but I did later - it was an orthoclase mechanism. It was decorated with sheep wool and encircled with bands of blue peafowl leather. He, too, apparently had a vision, just like Wierd did, because on the item was a carefully designed image of a book - "The Errors of Death". We're not quite sure whether the book was about dying, or the angel of death, and he won't explain. Either way, we're awed by it, and as before - it greatly raised morale.
We'd lined our few cage traps in strategic rows outside the fortress walls, and they'd been catching interesting creatures - mainly animal-men and -women (thrips and crows), but we had some chinchillas and giant wolverines as well. The giant wolverines especially excited everyone - they're like superpowered versions of honey badgers, grown to a magnificent size - taller than a human by far, when they stood on their hind legs. We decided immediately that these needed trained and put into the army, and Saltmummy was all too happy to take the job. KodKod said she would pass, as they weren't deadly enough for her. But now I know how they fit in the cages, at least - they're bigger on the inside. Like police boxes... gods, there are a lot of TV shows I miss.
ThatAussieGuy and Acetech tried to explain to me how the cage traps worked, as I asked once. I'll admit I couldn't quite wrap my mind around it - something about how the mechanisms interact with the bars of the cage, assembling it around the creature... They said it wouldn't work in the old world... Anyway, the dwarves taught them how to do it. We're really lucky we got the migrants. And speaking of the migrants, we got another set just recently - only five this time, though. They'd heard about the humans at The Twelfth Bay, and their devices, and they'd come to see. Apparently our electrical experiments are scaring some of them away - but not all, at least.
That was a month ago... Spring is here now. We've gotten a lot done, both above and below ground, but we haven't done as much as we would've liked. We've been here a full year, and our hopes of "rescue" have faded to a distant dream... It long ago dawned on us that while this was something entertaining to talk about on the forums of the old world, now that we're here... we have no way of getting back. This is home now, as hostile as it is. The dwarves are our family - we are family, to each other. Every single one of them - Wannazakki, Kenpoaj, Kaijyuu... everybody. They're all I have. All any of us have anymore.
The elves are coming soon, if this world still follows the rules of Toady One's game. (A couple of people have concluded that Toady One is Armok, and have taken to worshiping him, hoping he'll find a way to "free us".) We're debating what to do when the elves arrive - arguments are beginning to break out over it, and the fortress leaders (Girlinhat, Korakzon, Loudwhispers, DS and others) are debating in the conference hall. We don't have magma to pour on the elves' heads yet... but we have a few weapons. Then again, a lot of us say it's not worth the trouble. Myself - I don't know what to think. I always hated elves, yeah - but now, honestly... I'm a bit curious as to what they actually look like. Toady did say they have beards... Oh, and about beards - until Oliolli decided to sit down at the forge and craft us all razor blades, we all looked like mountain men, our beards were so wild. Girlinhat crafted several sets of scissors, which are kept carefully away so they don't "disappear". We use them for haircuts - something a lot of us were very happy to have. But I digress... and I think I'm about done here anyway.
Okay, awesome job, Fen. I think I'm going to go see if my services are needed in the conference hall...
the text ends here with the artful signature of Fen Wheeldreamy in orthoclase and amethyst.
Author
Topic: If Bay Forum were a Mountain Hall... (Read 447364 times)