I've named dwarves just now. I picked males, but if any of you would prefer a female you can switch.
Mooglit- a miner.
Zubb- not quite useless, but an immigrant. You're being used as an engraver now, but you have a wide range of novice skills, so you could be a candidate for other jobs in the future.
Urist the Grey- a mason and mechanic. Very important to the fortress right now.
Joe- the Doctor. I'm picturing this dwarf with a gravelly voice, smoking whatever it is dwarves smoke on the ward. Not that we have a ward yet, but... you get the image.
Our stout labor has not gone unrewarded! A fine central hall is well under way, and we've found gems! The hall will serve as a dining hall and dormitory until we can set up more proper dwellings. There is also a modest office under construction nearby- for myself. There will be an attached bedroom, of course, as is suitable. And maybe a small dining room, or a large closet. I'm not sure what I want to do with the other room yet...
Oh! And farms! We're making farms, and also digging out a bit of the sand just to make a nice sandy hole in which to hang around. Perhap in the future we'll plant some shrubs to make the place look nicer.
The fishing around here isn't bad, either: shad and trout are good eating. Don't get me wrong- I like cave lobster as much as the next dwarf. But a little variety never hurt anyone, did it?
The weather is really improving. The snow's all melted, the brook is totally thawed- and here I am, stuck inside, doing paperwork. I didn't realize bookkeeping was so time consuming. I suppose I thought that I would get a nice cozy office, jot down a little bit here and there when the traders come, and spend the rest of my time fishing and partying. Well, enough of my griping!
Things are coming right along: we've got a nice little kitchen set up, some tables, and we're working on the second level of our grand hall. Eventually I think we might knock some of the floor out of the upper level, and have a nice high cieling for the lower one. Urist (he calls himself 'Urist the Grey'- but I seriously doubt that's his actual name) made up a nice bunch of statues, and he's also made some mechanisms at my request. The mining isn't coming along as quickly as I would like, but then that's Sarvesh's responsibility. Mooglit is doing what he can, of course.
The one real problem is the wood: I suppose we should dig deep, and seek caverns. A haul of tower caps would make fine beds- and we might even strike metal!
Slightly strange event today. Probabaly nothing to worry about, but... well, we'd been thiking, and after a few glasses of wine and rum we decided to build a little shrine to this diety the other all seem to worship. Nothing fancy: a statue, and some offerings to Katthir, the diety of fortresses. Just something to bless our humble abode, and a place for Kib, Sarvesh, Zasit and Urist to offer some prayers.
Well we dug out a little alcove, erected the statue- but then, as Mooglit was taking a skull totem up to offer the diety, a conspiracy of ravens swooped down upon him! Not, you know- upon him. But sort of... around him. Anyhow, he was very spooked. Dropped the totem and ran right back to the fortress. I'm just hoping that this isn't an ill omen. We'll definitely be sure to get the totem to the shrine. And maybe an additional offering is in order as well...
Today's a very special day! Immigrants! What do you think of that? Immigrants, here, in our little home! Now, they're nothing special mind you- displaced dwarves with undervalued skills. They heard of us from the merchant that sold us our goods, and thought we had the right idea- so after a few weeks trying to get work in the mountainhomes, they decided to come lookin for us. Turns out, we're pretty far off from where we'd planned to go: somehow, we managed to get off the road and walk right clear over a mountain range. The immigrants had almost taken us for dead and given up looking, and nearly walked right past our inconspicuous little hole, but Urist spotted them on the ridge while taking an offering up to the shrine.
The worshippers of Katthir are pretty convinced that the migrants are a blessing from their god. They've gone and recast the crows as some kind of divine trial. I'm more inclined to think they were just birds.
Anyhow, the newcomers: one of them claims to be a great wound dresser and suturer. I told him he was now officially the Chief Medical Dwarf of Whimcrafted. He protested a bit, saying he really wasn't a qualified diagnostician, didn't know bone surgery- and so forth. But he accepted in the end. Another tells me they're a wax worker of some great renown, which strikes me as a rather odd thing for which to gain renown. Another is a bowyer, and the lasy a fish cleaner. I really don't have call for any of those skills, but I thought they should have something to do, so I've asked them to smooth the walls and floors of our burrow.
Fun note about my dwarf: he's clinging to a pot of rum for dear life. He's sitting in his office, updating records with a pot of dwarven rum, and has taken at least two drinking breaks without putting it down.
Work is coming along very nicely. The miners are really getting into the swing of things now- I've ordered a tunnel to be dug down. And not some silly little staircase: a fully wagon-ready road!
Ah, but that's just what's coming along: we've completed digging out the lower level of the main hall. The new migrants are smoothing it all out now, and we've moved the tables down- that level will be the dining hall. I'm considering putting a trade depot in the upper level. We haven't seen any traders yet, but if these immigrants came looking for us, who's to say merchants won't be next?
We also designed a rather ingenious defensive scheme over a few sips of rum and wine... and ale and beer. It's really pretty simple: I have a lever in my office. When pulled, it raises a bridge that connects the entry ramp to the upper meeting hall, and reveals a lower ramp which leads to a pit. "Ahh" you might be thinking "so it seals the fortress." Oh, no! Not at all! BUT-from the pit, one can only access the fortress via a long, winding hallway- a hallway which will, you know, eventually be filled with traps of the most devious design! Blades, likely. And balls. And maybe even a corkscrew or two... or a cage. Granted, it does leave us rather open for the time being- but goblins couldn't possibly have gotten word that we're here yet. Could they?
Nahh!
Oh, a closing note: we seem to have run out of livestock. There's still plenty of food, we've got some nice roasts stored away in pots, and there are crops coming up. But with me stuck in the office like this, we aren't getting any fish- so we'll have to come up with a new meat source eventually, or supper is going to get very boring. Quarry leaves and plump helmets can only be cooked so many ways.
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Topic: Whimcrafted succession game (Read 7340 times)