THE JOURNAL OF SMURFINGTON THE THIRD
(OOC: Sorry my image manipulation skills are rubbish)
After centuries of floating through the void, I find a host. Claiming their body, I am reborn for the third time!
... God damn it, I'm a female. This is... weird.
It appears I have claimed a dwarf in a fortress in crisis. For one, there's a bunch of goblins and corpses outside.
For two, the population has been absolutely decimated. For three, this place is a shithole, with a bigger mess then many I have seen before.
I take order, slapping the idiot in charge. He looks shocked, then yells at me, demanding that dice should not be exported. Fuggin dwarves.
This fortress has little technology, so I get to work on that. Finding no research equipment, I order a research lab to be completed. Seeing that we have a bit of warpstone, I try to start research on warpstone labs. Then I discover that we have no vermin remains. Impossible! I check the stocks, not a one. Theres plenty of live vermin, but where are all the vermin hunters? I check the stocks again:
You're fucking me. A duck. A single duck.
Suddenly, ghosts made their presence known.
Get them slabbed, you lazy bastards.
Once they are put to rest, I hear migrants announcing their arrival. Hopefully, they are far enough away from the goblins that they make it safely to the fortress. They spawned next to them. The rest was quick.
One dwarf was spared, however. A known serial killer had come to the fortress and was spared by the goblins for reasons unknown. I psychically got the traitor to attack a lone goblin. Results:
Apparently, the bastard is immortal.
A dwarf suddenly becomes secretive (these psychic dwarf powers are wierrrrd)
He claims a masons workshop.
Nymphs make off with some useless shit.
With some suitable magma technologies researched, I delve to the magma chute and order the construction of workshops INSIDE the mountain. Some idiot ordered the construction of a floating workshop over the sea. I order the tapping of the volcano, powering my new golemforge.
These goblins are going to get it.
The scourge of dwarvenkind rears their ugly head, elves have appeared. The goblins make quick work of them.
Seems the goblins aren't so bad after all.
More ghost shenanigans. Gettin reaaal tired of their shit.
The mechanic finishes his artifact, producing a door.
This door is interwoven with eldritch energies that hypnotise those that wish to destroy it. Creepy.
The goblins leave, and dark stranglers arrive, 4 squads of the bastards. If I can make some javelin infantry in time, they'll make a good edition to my food hoard.
The immortal bastard is still lying there. He has severe brain damage, but he still lives. What the hell is he? (OOC: serious, wtf?)
Summer has arrived.
(OOC: Part 2 coming soon. This be my first succession fortress, and it is in need of some serious regeneration. So, who's up for a fortress completely composed of steel golems?)