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[Thormgrim]

keep 'em coming, please!

[Broseph Stalin]

When she met with the guard he didn't seem to be particularly surprised. While entrance to the nobles quarters was restricted visiting with the mayor was the exception. He led her through the prestigious platinum decorated doors that bore the images of each of the seven founders and above them the king. The long hall contained six sets of double doors on either side and another pair at the end of the hall. She was lead into the first set of doors on the left and there in a spacious and well furnished office sat the Gusil Boatrakes Mayor of Arrowstockades.
   Every so often an election was held and the most popular and competent dwarf was selected to be the new mayor. A few minutes later the Overseer cast his vote, the only one that mattered, and the new mayor was replaced once again by Gusil. Gusil was an unlikable and incompetent dwarf whose accolades consisted entirely of being fairly good at chopping trees and being on one occasion being bitten by a monkey. In her every retelling of the event the monkey became an increasingly terrible creature which at last check was a fully grown Roc. Nobody in the fortress had ever voted for her, not even by accident.

“Hello!” Gusil said gleefully.
“Hello.” Dumat replied. “I was wondering--”
“Oh no problem!” Gusil replied. Her speech was slightly slurred. “I always make time for the little people.”
“That's nice, I just-”
“You know people don't often meet with me.” Gusil went on.
“I'm sure that's just-”
“Well it's because of how well run the fortress is.” Gusil interrupted. “And it must be just so intimidating to come into the nobles quarters and speak with me of all people.”
“Well-”
“No worries, I'm not all high and mighty like the rest of the founders ,I founded the fortress you see, I'm just as grounded and levelheaded as any other dwarf.”
“Ms. Mayor-”
“You know I used to cut trees? Me, a humble woodcutter.”
“Ms. Mayor-”
“But with hard work and dedication I rose to my current office.”
“Ms. Mayor-”
“Wounded in the line of duty even! A Hill Giant burst through the trees, scooped me up, and bit me right in the chest. Would you like to see the scar?”
“Please no-”
“I managed to fend it off with my axe and miraculously recovered. Doctors had to suture up my heart and everything.”
“Please-”
“Now I'm sure your problems seem insignificant by comparison , bitten nearly in half by a giant and all.”
“Ms. Mayor!”
“But you were having some kind of problem?”
Dumat cracked. “Problem?” she asked calmly. “Yes, I do suppose I have a problem. This fortress is horrible.”
“I don't think I understand deary-”
“The rules are arbitrary, the food is disgusting, there aren't enough beds, the Guard Captain is a half blind psychopath who I am fairly certain is going deaf, the Dwarf responsible for writing every work order in the fortress can't read or write, and the labor is back breaking- literally. I broke my back laboring, and then I went to the hospital.
   And I went again and again in various states of disrepair. And each time I was given the bare minimum of care and told to suck it up. And no matter how hard I work, no matter how diligently and without complaint I destroy my body and sacrifice my happiness for the good of this fortress every time I stop to eat, drink, sleep, take a break- or gods forbid take a few minutes after my battery of medical procedures to rest- everyone acts like I'm lazy!”

For the first time in a long time Dumat Stakepondered was truly and wholly angry. Her tirade was picking up too much steam to stop now.

“And every time I figure out how this mad house works the rug is pulled out from underneath me! And I haven't seen my husband in half a year because every time I violate one of these stupid, arbitrary rules I'm sent to jail!
   “And even though I work harder and longer than any dwarf in this fortress I am a garbage dwarf, I am expendable! And apparently even if I reach the mountain top, even if I become one of the most respected dwarves in Arrowstockades I'll be cast aside as useless if someone better comes along! There's no loyalty, there's no logic, there's no respect for the inherent value of Dwarven Life!
    “There's only the whims of unqualified lunatics who claim supreme authority based solely on the fact that they happened to found the fortress- which by the way isn't that impressive when you consider that all of the REAL labor happened after migrants started showing up. You made a small clearing and slept in the dirt until the people you look down on as inferior actually created everything you recognize as Arrowstockades! 
   “And above all else, NONE OF YOU LOONS WILL CALL ME BY MY NAME! I have put up with this lunacy for months and I am DONE! I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS!” Her final statement was punctuated by an armorstand toppling to the ground. The mayor was white with fear. They stood in silence for a few moments before the noble cried out, “Tantrum!”

“No,” Dumat replied much calmer now. “I have very legitimate grievances and I would like substantive remedies.”
“You vandal!” The Mayor shrieked. “I'll have you hauled off for destruction of property!”
“It's made of stone.” Dumat said levelly. “It's not even scratched, it just needs to be set upright about a foot to where it now lies.”
“Guards!” The Mayor yelled.
“Seriously, I'll set it up now.” Dumat began setting the armorstand back up but was stopped by a pair of powerful hands grabbing her from behind.

“Dumplin Lakewanders you are under arrest for vandalism!” Came Feb's familiar voice.

She was hauled down the familiar haul and sentenced to thirty days. Ample time, she thought, to plan her next move. She had no paper but she had plenty of time to think. Her time would be divided into plotting and exercise. This time she would leave the cell stronger, not weaker. She would leave prepared, not confused. Whatever was waiting for her when that door swung open she would be ready.

[Catsup]

this fort is kinda tragic after thinking about it more, why the hell would the overseer force his dwarves to make fancy goods for export when not all of his dwarves even have their own room yet? in my current fort im busy outfitting each dwarve's rooms, be it peasant or legendary armorer, with masterwork beds, green glass cabinets, green glass doors, and green glass boxes (all masterworks). And exporting the exceptional and lower crap as my "golden goblets encrusted with gems".

I have a great engraver in training to becoming a legendary engraver so he can turn everyone's decent bedrooms into great or royal bedrooms. My dwarves also eat masterwork roasts, not tallow slop and stones are never hauled unless the stone stockpile has 3 wheelbarrows (i set unlink it until it has 3). There are 2 separate 2x2 stairways so there is almost no traffic jam.

The jails are rooms with a artifact chain or masterwork steel chain encrusted with crystal glass and studded with gold. that has 3 stockpile squares next to it as food, 3 as drink, 1 as masterwork bed, and 1 as masterwork chair. So they have everything they need (they dont need to actually reach the table to use it, just the chair), in addition to 2 masterwork statues beside the masterwork table for them to admire. Unhappy dwarves are also burrowed inside the jail rooms for rehabilitation until they feel better.

EDIT: for clarification purposes when i mentioned i had no jails in my first post, i have no jails ENABLED in my fort most of the time, and just let my unquestionably weak captain of the guard beat on dwarves with his featherwood training swords, jail time is wasted labor. I do have rooms i can set as jails right away though, if a particular dwarf is being violent and needs isolation.

EDIT2: this story makes me feel happy in the way i run my fort, as the starting 7 are treated no different than any other dwarves. (and in fact, i look down on them with contempt because they are all friends with each other, and are tantrum fodder; most of my other dwarves only have their spouse or have no one). In fact, of my starting 7, 6 of them are still just peasants, with 1 becoming one of my legendary miners. I neglected to become a barony to spare my dwarves the grief of additional mandates, and the life of a dwarf that would have became the baron; my mayor is chosen from the dwarf with the most easily crafted preference: barrels, which i need anyway for food storage in my fort.

[Broseph Stalin]

this fort is kinda tragic after thinking about it more, why the hell would the overseer force his dwarves to make fancy goods for export when not all of his dwarves even have their own room yet? in my current fort im busy outfitting each dwarve's rooms, be it peasant or legendary armorer, with masterwork beds, green glass cabinets, green glass doors, and green glass boxes (all masterworks). And exporting the exceptional and lower crap as my "golden goblets encrusted with gems".

I have a great engraver in training to becoming a legendary engraver so he can turn everyone's decent bedrooms into great or royal bedrooms. My dwarves also eat masterwork roasts, not tallow slop and stones are never hauled unless the stone stockpile has 3 wheelbarrows (i set unlink it until it has 3). There are 2 separate 2x2 stairways so there is almost no traffic jam.

The jails are rooms with a artifact chain or masterwork steel chain encrusted with crystal glass and studded with gold. that has 3 stockpile squares next to it as food, 3 as drink, 1 as masterwork bed, and 1 as masterwork chair. So they have everything they need (they dont need to actually reach the table to use it, just the chair), in addition to 2 masterwork statues beside the masterwork table for them to admire. Unhappy dwarves are also burrowed inside the jail rooms for rehabilitation until they feel better.

EDIT: for clarification purposes when i mentioned i had no jails in my first post, i have no jails ENABLED in my fort most of the time, and just let my unquestionably weak captain of the guard beat on dwarves with his featherwood training swords, jail time is wasted labor. I do have rooms i can set as jails right away though, if a particular dwarf is being violent and needs isolation.

EDIT2: this story makes me feel happy in the way i run my fort, as the starting 7 are treated no different than any other dwarves. (and in fact, i look down on them with contempt because they are all friends with each other, and are tantrum fodder; most of my other dwarves only have their spouse or have no one). In fact, of my starting 7, 6 of them are still just peasants, with 1 becoming one of my legendary miners. I neglected to become a barony to spare my dwarves the grief of additional mandates, and the life of a dwarf that would have became the baron; my mayor is chosen from the dwarf with the most easily crafted preference: barrels, which i need anyway for food storage in my fort.

Most of this stuff will be explained if not justified in Dumplin Lakewanders and the Worst Dwarf in the World but some of it is inherent to my playstyle. The original 7 tend to be the only useful dwarves for the first year or so and I tend to reward them with better rooms and elevate them to nobility even if they aren't very competent. As for the rooms,

This is Arrowstockades
There are 193 ecstatic dwarves in Arrowstockades, 21 happy dwarves, 34 content dwarves (most of whom are babies and therefore not able to get many happy thoughts), and 1 fine dwarf (badly injured, watched brother die.) No dwarf is unhappy in the entire fortress.

The fortress is grand and most Dwarves get their own beds but the design is modular and labor intensive.  Even though that design can hold almost every dwarf in the fortress there are always a few who end up sleeping in the dirt. Building more rooms would break the design of the fortress and since everything is so fancy dwarves are usually ecstatic even if they're homeless.

 I have plenty of masterwork prepared meals worth more wealth than all of the goblets combined but I also have a sea of tallow from butchering animals and enormous piles of acorns from smoothing wood. To get rid of them I make them into meals. Valuable meals get traded since their valuable and the low level tallow and acorn meals usually end up being what sits in the fortress.

Arrowstockades is a dwarven paradise but Dumat looks at the fortress objectively. Her frustration isn't outweighed by a nice dining room and she she gets upset by things that most dwarves don't even notice. Dwarves don't usually care that they have to haul 2000 pounds of gold ore up 33 flights of stairs in a 12 pound wheelbarrow, they don't mind the rows of deadly traps that dot the fortress, they don't think there's anything odd about working nonstop for days on end, it doesn't bother them that their names can be changed on a whim, they don't think it's a big deal that their democratically elected mayor is routinely ousted and replaced by the despotic overseer, and they don't get negative thoughts from eating animal fat and acorns.

The story is all about the little things we do as overseers without considering what our dwarves must think about it.

[Catsup]

wait wait wait wait, so you trade the good stuff away and leave crap for your dwarves? why do that? i end up trading the worst stuff away, which are mostly green glass furniture worth 100 each and i managed to buy the dwarven caravan. I supplement my crap with masterwork silver and steel serrated discs which are worth 17k and 45k each apiece undecorated if im a little short on allowed weight/crap. IMO prepared food isnt really worth trading, and if you're trading it you might as well just give the elves the tallow to eat and produce more food overall so you can have enough good non-tallow food to overfeed your fortress. I didnt really keep count, but last i checked about 95% of my dwarves were ecstatic with the remaining being mainly ones who detest common vermin like flies.

as for dumat, cutest lil dwarf i've ever read about, i'd wanna hug her if i could and rescue her from that hell (no offense lol, just going along with the story) and let her live in paradise at cherishedshades! (where only about 70% of the land animates the dead) though i think she might be miserable here too, for other reasons, or at least appalled and horrified.

[Broseph Stalin]

wait wait wait wait, so you trade the good stuff away and leave crap for your dwarves? why do that? i end up trading the worst stuff away, which are mostly green glass furniture worth 100 each and i managed to buy the dwarven caravan. I supplement my crap with masterwork silver and steel serrated discs which are worth 17k and 45k each apiece undecorated if im a little short on allowed weight/crap. IMO prepared food isnt really worth trading, and if you're trading it you might as well just give the elves the tallow to eat and produce more food overall so you can have enough good non-tallow food to overfeed your fortress. I didnt really keep count, but last i checked about 95% of my dwarves were ecstatic with the remaining being mainly ones who detest common vermin like flies.

as for dumat, cutest lil dwarf i've ever read about, i'd wanna hug her if i could and rescue her from that hell (no offense lol, just going along with the story) and let her live in paradise at cherishedshades! (where only about 70% of the land animates the dead) though i think she might be miserable here too, for other reasons, or at least appalled and horrified.

Because one stack of good food can be worth 50,000 dwarfbucks while a barrel full of tallow cakes is worth less than one hundred, can't be traded to elves, and would be happily eaten by dwarves. 91.6% of the adult population of Arrowstockades is ecstatic and there isn't an unhappy dwarf in the whole shebang.

[Catsup]

Because one stack of good food can be worth 50,000 dwarfbucks while a barrel full of tallow cakes is worth less than one hundred, can't be traded to elves, and would be happily eaten by dwarves. 91.6% of the adult population of Arrowstockades is ecstatic and there isn't an unhappy dwarf in the whole shebang.

barrels? what barrels? you should be using stoneware large pots since those are created practically free if you have a magma forging system up and running and has twice the capacity of barrels. In my biome i dont have the luxury of excess wood, and the little wood that do accumulate on the surface are guarded by the dead and huskifying weather.

anyway, you should be able to trade the tallow slop to elves, just dont try to sell them the barrel and you'll be fine. My fort doesnt use barrels for food at all tbh, just a quantum stockpile in a small room in the middle of the dining room that accepts only prepared foods. Remember, your just trying to get rid of bad food by selling the tallows, if you need valuables to supplement it producing more food works too, add in some high value ones after all the tallows are in the depot and ready to be traded.

[Broseph Stalin]

Okay, so I have good news and bad news. The bad news is there won't be a second update tonight. The good news is I'm tossing around the idea of creating a TITTD sprite comic. Here's my prototype.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Ashmon: This is gold ore. Load it in the wheelbarrow and haul it to the stockpile by the furnaces.







Dumat: What?

[Broseph Stalin]

Released only Seventy Seven days into her thirty day sentence Dumplin had thoroughly plotted out the rest of her life in Arrowstockades. Any cynicism and frustration that had leached into her from the madness of fortress life had been violently expelled when she unloaded on the mayor. For all her suffering she finally stood on the precipice of total victory. It was Ashmon who released her and she made sure to get a very clear description of where exactly her quarters were before leaving him to his own devices.

   She would be reunited with her husband, she would sleep in a warm bed, and she would finally be able to raise a child in the security of the fortress.  Her joints still ached at times but by spending a large portion of her time doing simple exercises she had not allowed her muscles to atrophy. Even if by some odd chance she'd been reassigned to stone hauling she would preform the labor easilly. Hauling stones up stairs may be difficult but provided there were no more wheelbarrow shortages she would soon be making the trip up the Grand Staircase with ease.

   It was unfortunate that Bim was in such a poor state but there wasn't much to do about that. She made a promise to herself that she would bring him clean water and what passed for food as often as she could. She had during her incarceration thought up plans to create a simple wooden water bucket and a simple blanket and pillow from whatever the tailors had no use for. She recognized that she was a garbage dwarf and neither special nor valuable in any way but if she could make sure a down-on-his-luck old dwarf could go to bed with a modicum of cleanliness, warmth, and comfort then that was fine all the same. 

   She would also endeavor to improve the psychological health of the dwarves she routinely interacted with. The Fortress Guard seemed to be the go between for the nobility and the commoners and that precious conduit was less than perfect. Feb seemed to lack certain social graces and Ashmon was ,well, Ashmon. As she understood the Guard did not make the rules of the fortress and expecting them to change or disobey them was unrealistic. Instead she would work towards teaching them to communicate clearly, authoritatively, and politely. It would also be nice if Ashmon's obsession with the undead could be brought down to a less detrimental level.

   She would most importantly organize the dwarves of the fortress. They would learn which of the many technically edible things in the world needn't be eaten. She would show them how to walk passed one another rather than stepping on each other. There would be long and comprehensive discussions about exactly how much blood and vomit ,none, that may acceptably cover ones body at any given time. She would persuade them to use her newly drafted sleep schedule that divided the day into four sections so that everyone managed to get to a bed. And on day fifty of her thirty day sentence she decided it may be wise to post a list of current occupants on the doors to the jails just so dwarves remembered to free, water, and feed the incarcerated.

   But before all that she was off to see her husband. After nearly a year of apart the two embraced in the splendor of their quarters. And when they emerged from their wooden palace to survey the world theydid so with the knowledge that it was theirs to conquer.

   Dumat now understood that the trials of the fortress were not detriments to her happiness but the more exciting parts of her harrowing journey to true fulfillment. Surely there was more work to be done but she knew the rules now and only a very sad story would end with no mountains left to climb.  Yes, after nearly a year Dumat Stakepondered had finally settled in. Ready for whatever came next, her story finally had a happy ending.

If you stop reading now.

How happy an ending is is contingent on when you stop reading and when you stop reading is entirely up to you. There is nothing stopping you from accepting this as the end of the tale of Dumplin but should you choose to follow this story to it's terminus no promises can be made of how happy an ending you'll find. Continue reading at your own peril and with the knowledge that nothing stays very good for very long.

[Liber celi]

I have stared into the abyss for a long time. No need to stop now.

[Catsup]

Yes, after nearly a year Dumat Stakepondered had finally settled in. Ready for whatever came next, her story finally had a happy ending.

no way.... no way!! why end it now?
what happened to the bloody goblin ambush that gets asen killed? or the mixed goblin/undead siege that wipes out the fort? or dumat being pushed to the edge of insanity as everyone died around her, but despite the fact that she is a garbage dwarf, she somehow manages to survive and rebuild?

dammit i feel the more appropriate ending for this story is dumat as the sole survivor, she becomes hardened and alot stronger and cleans up and buries everyone. A few migrants arrive to help her and she begins to recover. Then when the fort is mostly re-established dumat becomes a wise and competent leader that is able to lead the military into battle, and despite all shes been through she keeps hold of her values of equality and happiness for her people. She then sees a familiar migrant that reminds her of herself, a little dwarfette that is struggling with the basic labors and wonders if she'll ever be noticed, dumat looks at her and smiles sadly, but smiles none-the-less, because her greatest loss: her innocence, is never going to be coming back to her.

[Broseph Stalin]

Yes, after nearly a year Dumat Stakepondered had finally settled in. Ready for whatever came next, her story finally had a happy ending.

no way.... no way!! why end it now?
what happened to the bloody goblin ambush that gets asen killed? or the mixed goblin/undead siege that wipes out the fort? or dumat being pushed to the edge of insanity as everyone died around her, but despite the fact that she is a garbage dwarf, she somehow manages to survive and rebuild?

dammit i feel the more appropriate ending for this story is dumat as the sole survivor, she becomes hardened and alot stronger and cleans up and buries everyone. A few migrants arrive to help her and she begins to recover. Then when the fort is mostly re-established dumat becomes a wise and competent leader that is able to lead the military into battle, and despite all shes been through she keeps hold of her values of equality and happiness for her people. She then sees a familiar migrant that reminds her of herself, a little dwarfette that is struggling with the basic labors and wonders if she'll ever be noticed, dumat looks at her and smiles sadly, but smiles none-the-less, because her greatest loss: her innocence, is never going to be coming back to her.

Keep reading. This is the end if you stop reading now. That was a warning that if you wanted a happy ending you shouldn't read the next two chapters.

[Broseph Stalin]

Dumplin Lakewanders had enjoyed four years of relative prosperity. She welcomed her newborn son Obok Handletunnels into the world just a month ago and now her life finally felt complete. She was still deemed dangerously incompetent by the illiterate manager and therefore relegated to light work. She spent her days hauling bins very short distances from the workshops to the stockpiles, hauling wood from clearcut areas to the woodpile, and occasionally picking up things left outdoors.

   When the days work was done she could always budget time to spend with her husband after he finished his practice and patrols. They would sit down to a meal that was often ,but not always, some combination of animal fat and acorns and a nice stiff drink. Before the day was done she would make an excursion to the caverns and bring Bim a drink and a meal.

   There was no sign that today would be unusual. She'd arisen, fed Obok, and reported for work just as she always did. She walked through the forest with young Obok sitting atop her shoulder, just like she always did. She went along picking up bolts and other things the hunters and woodcutters lost track of, just like she always did. She'd just set her bin down down to pick up a dented iron shield. When the militia learned a nicer piece of armor was available they just threw their old gear on the ground and went off to grab it. That wasn't particularly unusual either. What was very unusual was the fell cry from the watchtower.
“Ambush!” The warning split the air.
“Ambush!” Came a second call and a third before soon all about the warnings echoed throughout the grounds. Dumat had just enough time to see a goblin tear through the brush sword in hand.

[laxori666]

Oh man. At first this was hilarious, then it quickly got to horrifying/utterly depressing as I realized just what a horrible life we make our dorfs lead. But I can't stop now.

[Broseph Stalin]

“Block.” There was no second thought, an ancient part of her dwarven brain remembered the weight of the shield and with a natural grace she threw the shield in front of herself blocking the deadly blow and sending the goblin staggering back. Not expecting to work for this kill he was surprised by her sudden defense. Another strike fell but again rebounded against Dumat's shield. Thrown from her feet by the ferocity of the attack she landed hard on her back. Only an unconscious drive to protect her son kept Obok from leaving her grasp.
   “Survive.” Something primal inside her had awoken. Seeing her helpless state the goblin redoubled it's attack. There was a chorus of clangs and  frustrated screams interspersed with the crying of a dwarven child as each ferocious attack found only iron. She scrambled to her feet but another stroke landed flush on her shield sending her back to the ground. This time she slid back a fair distance and Obok landed nearly a foot away from her crying.
   “Protect Obok.” There was no logic to it. A simple dwarven drive compelled her to roll in between the goblin and her son and lash out with all her might. A sickening crunch accompanied a fell scream he edge of the shield collided with the goblins jaw. Staggered by the impact and drunk with pain the foe had no opportunity to dodge when Dumat's shield flew through the air and struck him flush in the knee. There was a loud crunch as goblin curses filled the air.
   “Kill.” The ancient fury boiled in her dwarven blood. Without thought or warning she charged the prone goblin and brought a fist down against his skull. The goblin couldn't find a good angle but his impotent flailing was able to inflict a shallow cut along her collar bone deadly close to her throat.
   In a flash she remembered Ashmon's dual with the cougar. “Wrestle.” She obeyed the simple command and achieved a grip on cross guard of the blade. She was unable to seize the weapon with such a weak grip but neither could the goblin use the blade while she held onto it. 
   She sought a punch to the goblins fractured jaw but it shot out it's free hand and tightly gripped her forearm. She used her hand to do the same. The goblins gripped her left forearm with his right hand while she gripped his right forearm with her left hand preventing either from securing any sort of lock. In a pile of writhing limbs and the most severe curses their mortal tongues could muster the two remained pitched in a fight to the death.