A fine spring morning Urist and his six fellow dwarves were doing what dwarves do best. Happily striking their pickaxes into the helpless earth, humming a jolly tune while doing so. Underneath the deep, grumble tone of the humming, some rather highpitched, and very off-key singing could be heard. Urist stopped.
"Hey, Tekud, stop singing, will ya?
"Wat? It aint me singing."
"He. Well, then... HEY, MENDUR AND TRENDA, STOP THAT DAMN SINGING!"
"WAT SINGING?"
"YOUR SINGING!"
"WE AINT SINGING!"Suddenly, the dwarves stopped humming. And yelling. And moving. And still, they heard that high and horrible singing. Urist gathered all seven settlers and moved to the nearby crest of the hill, to see what might be the cause for the disturbance. He crept, relatively slow and quite for a dwarf, to the top, then came down faster then dwarves should. After he caught his fall, he mumbled to the others.
"We'd better go."
"Wat is it?"
"I dont know. But its at least twenty of them. Running around, singing that damn song, not being afraid of anything. Whatever they are, they must be well protected. No harmless fool would be found in this territory. They outnumber is 3:1, so we gotta move. Now."
And so it came that the beautiful place on a lake in the middle of the desert was conquered by the Kobolds of the Muddy Legends. Lead by Meph, the brave bold, enemy of the sickened Barbary, the evil goblins, the Kobolds were looking for a new home. They wanted a little village for themselves, to live and strife and fish and eat. They would call this little village... littlevillage. Hopefully, no one will call it their grave.
Meph, the brave bold. Warband Leader, Machetebold, only named bold in the camp.
`Meph, the brave bold' Jibabachobins has been happy lately. She dined in a legendary dining room recently. She took joy in slaughter lately. She slept in a good bedroom recently. She talked with a friend lately. She has complained of the lack of a well lately. She has been satisfied at work lately. She admired a fine Table lately. She had a nice bath recently.
She is a worshipper of Shintens Towerwood the Primitive Fin and a faithful worshipper of Shaninens Greencanyons the Sandy Trail.
She is a citizen of The Lusts of Jaundice. She is a member of The Muddy Legends. She is an enemy of The Sickened Barbarity. She is the warband marshal of The Muddy Legends. She arrived at Chanintishonons on the 1st of Granite in the year 31.
She is ten years old, born on the 19th of Galena in the year 22.
She is incredibly skinny. Her muzzle is somewhat broad. Her snout is somewhat short. Her copper skin is very smooth. Her somewhat long hair is somewhat greasy. Her somewhat narrow yellow eyes are close-set. Her somewhat high eyebrows are slightly sparse.
She is possessed of amazing recuperative powers, but she is flimsy, susceptible to disease, very quick to tire and quite clumsy.
`Meph, the brave bold' Jibabachobins likes fine light red brick, welded cobalt, clear diamond, the color white, blowdarts and steppe eagles for their silent vigils. When possible, she prefers to consume giant harp seal and dwarven wine. She absolutely detests crows.
She has an iron will, a great kinesthetic sense and a good feel for social relationships, but she has an iffy memory, a shortage of patience and lousy intuition.
She is a nervous wreck. She is very slow to anger. She almost never feels discouraged. She is confident under pressure. She is very distant and reserved. She can be very happy and optimistic. She appreciates art and natural beauty. She prefers stability and security to ambiguity and disorder. She finds helping others very rewarding. She would rather intimidate others than compromise with them. She is modest. She is not easily moved to pity. She is occasionally given to procrastination. She takes time when making decisions. She tenses up when she's nervous. She likes working outdoors and grumbles only mildly at inclement weather. She is getting used to tragedy.
*VIPER* A small, dog-like humanoid with long drooping ears. Kobolds born under the Sign of the Viper are not shy about close combat with knife nor fang. Like all Earth Sign kobolds, they begin to thrive upon combat once they get a taste of it.
A passerby would have heard the following conversation this fine day:
We stop here!
Why? Why not there? Or there? Or over there? Or on the hill? Or the other side? Or under this?
Because look at sky. See the mighty golden eagle. I like eagles, so we stay.
And so it was decided. The Kobolds of the Muddy Legends settled down to erect their camp. Littlevillage. Nestled on the shoreline of a great lake on the fringes of the vast shivan desert. Climate hot enough to empty ponds and dry grass in the heat of the sun. Barely any trees grow here.
Twenty bolds did survive the great raid of the orcs and the slavery of the goblins. Seven of them were even trained in the military, which means as much as that they are good dodgers and know which end of a pointy stick or even machete to hold.
The kobolds stopped their wagon on the lakeshore. Their rats around them, with a safe place to start their camp, they went to work.
Put this here. No... here... no... there... Ah, I do it myself.
Set the wall along there. Yes, next to the butchery. Yes, right next to it.
Stills? We dont need booze, you have to work, not drink.
Dig the tunnels into the soft soil. Then put the rats underneath, they must be safe... We must eat.
And stick the seeds in the ground, even if we only have a few. Kobold bulbs and Rat weeds... good for poison and smoke.
Leather. More Leather. I SAID MORE LEATHER. Build the tents, armor, cloaks and pouches, we need that stuff.
Make bone armor. And whats that? Hemtati? Hemita? Hemti-what? Oh, IRON? Thats ok. Makes good weapons.
Seven we are. Machete and Sticks we wield. Bone we wear. The Fed Grubs we are. Melee bolds, to the death.
SLAY THE RANCORS!!!
...
Wow. Rancor corpses are heavy. And we are still alive. Wow.In the meantime, a new, experimental way of digging was invented. The great kobold architect Shin Binibonus had deviced a way to probe the solid rock under our feet, by digging downstairs every so often. When softer rock, ore or gems were found, the dirt diggers could use their shovels to conquer parts of another level. Ever so slowly, more and more of the precious ore and gem could be found, and the bolds reached unknown depths, 10 levels underneath the earth. While digging our the animal pens, compact peat was found as well, which can be used as fuel.
The summer harvest was brought in, even though no one of the kobolds seemed to be interested in eating any of the plants. At least kobold bulb could be used for poisons, and rat weed has several uses, for tea or tobacco for example. Even the rats flourished, and the camp was drowning in jackrat babies. Time for the butcheries to go to work.
Next to the wooden walls, which has been made of cheap, wooden planks from the sawmill, a tunnel had been dug for the traders. Only kobold caravans would come, without wagons, without guards... they have to be protected. And the best protection is not having to fight at all. The tunnel was connected with the camp, but otherwise locked from the outside world. Some channels, some walls, some raised bridges here and there, and soon traders could arrive without a worry. The underground depot, next to a few backup traps and the trader warren, proved to be a good investement. Our bonerattle armors brought us many usefull items, for wells and hospital, new pets and more wood.
You worry too much. I dont worry. I am brave. Brave Bold!
I'm not unbrave. I just say: We not save enough.
Forest Imps only the beginning. Badgers cant fight forever. What then? What when Badgers dead? Who fight then?
I will fight. The Fed Grubs will fight. 10 good bolds. Good, strong iron weapons. We killed Rancors. We will kill more.And then, the war began. The year had been quiet. A few direlions. Three dragon raptors. A great shadow that flew over the lake, the horned owl. But nothing else. Twice voices and steps were heard. Twice brothers and sisters from the tribe were welcomed. First six, then four... after this, nothing. Nothing unusual in Littlevillage, almost the entire year went by. The solstice was near, a new year, a new leader... but then... the war began. AMBUSH! was the yell that woke the camp, Goblins. The Sickened Barbary is here. A group of 7, maybe 8 goblin bowmen. The leader, flying on a giant ant drone, scaling the walls, raining arrows upon bolds. A buttock gets shot off. The fisher gremlins, surprisingly, charge first. The warband marches to meet the lone flying archer, taking both him and his mount down, hacking it to pieces with iron weaponry. The entry tunnel underneath the lake, unfinished. Maybe 10 cage traps. No flooding. No killing floor. No weapon traps, no archers, no double-locks. Only a bridge with a 5 level drop, an empty ogre cave, four giant war badgers, and the brave bolds of Littlevillage.
On the way to the entry the goblins seem to multiply. They were 8, or 9, or 10... but now its 20. No... 30. Without mounts... Now on mounts, giant roaches and ants, horrible pincers and hard chitinarmor. Archers with rusty bodkin arrows, Lasher with scourges. 60 enemies at the gate. 10 brave bolds to hold the line.
Hold. I said hold! You, pull the lever. You! Get the badgers. Everyone, hold the cages ready.
Yes...YES! Did you see? 5 of them fell into the pit, and only a dozen or so got in. Oh. Wait. THEY GOT IN! GET READY!
AAAAAHHHH, DIE GOBLIN!
We got them. Check, everyone ok? All bolds alive? All bolds unharmed? Wow. You, why are you crying? ... Oh... I didnt know. We will bury the war badger with honor. But now get ready. MORE OF THEM!
Hihihahaha, look at them. All in cages. 8 of them. Lets release them, one by one, we need the cages for the traps. COME ON OUT!
Bloody. Bloody all of the cages, but empty. Lets reset the traps, then open the gate.
AGAIN. STUPID GOBLINS. 6 fell down. 9 in traps. And the 5 in the hallway we got. THEY CAN NEVER DEFEAT US!
Wait... what do you say? 30 more of them? Behind the wall, near the trader tunnel? On WHAT? FLYING BATS?
RUN!!! TITAN!!!
I have to go... they are coming...
War Badgers dead... not enough cages...
The bats... our walls, useless...Be bold.- End of Entry -
While the battle raged on, taking place not only in winter, but also the first month of spring before a stalemate could be found, the camp itself flourishes amids the chaos. 30 bolds call it their home, 11 levels deep they dug, many buildings and crafts they created. This is the chronik of their labor, the little village called Littlevillage.
Their leader, the Warband Marshal Meph. Decked in bonerattle pieces and armor of lightest mithril, found by dirt diggers in old ruins. Wielding a mighty iron machete, ready for the worst.
Save: Download - Uses slightly modified raws of MasterworkDF V.3cOOC: I wanted to stop 1st of spring, but I thought it would make sense to solve the goblin problem first. Turned out there were 5 more ambushes in waiting, so the current player has about 80 hostiles running around. Wood is extremely scarce, so make it all the scrapwood first, to double the income. Save 10 for the "super secret tunnel", I already managed to steal the plan. I also managed to steal an arena plan from the goblins, so build one of those if you like. The solve the goblin problem, constantly steal from warlocks, build a voodoo totem, and curse the race of goblins. Please do this.
I really want to see it in this fort.
You only have three levers. The two at the depot control the bridges that lock the trade-tunnel, and the one on the surface next to the main entry tunnel control the bridge that locks the main entry tunnel. Simple stuff. The military has 10 bolds in one unit, 7 of them have good dodging and weapon skills, 2 have mithril axes, 1 is a lasher-bold. Their weapons are iron grade, armor is bone/irongrade, so dont expect too much.
Please continue the exploratory mining, I really want to see how deep we can go.
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Topic: ☼LittleVillage the Tribe of Hope☼ - Restarting the Camp, Who wants first turn? (Read 4594 times)