The caravan had run into trouble.
Their food supplies were infested with vermin. All that remained were some plump helmets
They had been harassed by elves. In the dark of night, a crazed carnivorous elf had torn the throat from their leader, having glimpsed the mounds of logs they were hauling.
One pack mule was gored by a unicorn in the mirthful woods they had passed through a few days earlier. The other had wandered out into some green stinking rain, as the seven remaining crew cowered in a shelter hastily built in a haunted marsh. Now it was breathing laboriously, and was beginning to rot before their very eyes.
They put the unfortunate beasts out of their misery and were forced consolidate their load into a single wagon, abandoning half of their ore to sink into the stinking quagmire.
The remaining two horses pulled the cart slowly, its wooden wheels creaking under the weight. A smell of fish and salt water wafted toward the group, and they could hear the faint crash of waves on a distant shore.
Hastily they forced a march which lasted two full days, hope in their hearts that they would find a human town on the edge of the water body. There they could sell their load, and resupply with food, fish, and a crew of the towering humans to make the journey back to the mines.
As they crested the final hill, the smell hit them full force. Death and decay hung in the air like the miasma around an abbatoir. The ocean was filled with death.
With horror they recoiled as a reeking giant crab, dragging its broken limbs behind it, shambled up the beach towards their caravan. The horses, spooked, bucked in their reins, tipping over the cart, shattering its wheels.
A moment of silence passed, as the seven survivors realized that their fates were linked to this beach. They would either survive or die here.
Walking over to the remains of the cart, one dwarf hoisted a pick out of the rubble, and with a cold stare of finality regarded the other six.
In a voice, deepened with age and experience he said, "Strike the earth".
Seven unskilled caravan labourers
Also, a clutch of peahens and two peacocks survived the journey.
A bleak embark, but thankfully, only some zombie crabs are around to cause the survivors problems. Two miners were immediately assigned, along with a carpenter, two farmers, one mason and a metalworker. Digging down was swift and effective, and everything from the wagon was quantum dumped onto a single tile food stockpile inside the downstairs, with a hatch built to swiftly seal off the entrance.
The rich soil layer was quickly hollowed out to provide room for farming and workshops. Later, much of the soil will be exposed as a massive multi-layer treefarm.
Digging has begun on the hive. This will serve as the main hub for all industry and trade. Each corner will have ramps leading both upwards and downwards to allow for efficient use of 3 z levels. A merchant airlock system will allow caravans to enter from the east.
The locals are circling, attracted to the smell of death emanating from the ocean. They seem content to feast on pieces of the zombie crabs which fall off periodically, so thus far, the survivors are safe.
Against all odds, more souls have damned themselves, coming to this cursed place. Hopefully they are quick enough to catch some rats to eat, because food production has been abysmal so far. The horses have been butchered to provide some quick sustenance, but the meat won't last long with all these hungy mouths. Also, the booze is being consumed as fast as it can be manufactured, but in true dwarf faction, these dwarves will die before they are forced to drink water.
All in all, an uneventful start! But that's great, giving us a chance to get established to prepare for the real fun.
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Topic: Anyone up for a parallel fort playthrough? (Read 21174 times)