Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

Authoredmountains

6 (30%)

Murderpaddles

14 (70%)

Total Members Voted: 20

[itg]

By the way, I hope you didn't mind Ridiculously Stereotypical Jewish Mother Dorf calling you "Iggy," even if it did happen in an imploded alternate timeline.

Hehe, it's cool.

[Skullsploder]

I said the save might be early Autumn. I accidentally overwrote it with a backup by accident when restoring my own fort's save :/ Also the tileset is phoebus, sorry I forgot to mention that. Download the LNP (it's very small) and you'll be able to fix everything related to graphics and dfhack to your heart's content. Also, all I did in Autumn was the artifact and the barony, not really major stuff. Just please make a quantum minecart stockpile dumping down the stairs in the crafting room, set to take the same stuff as the bottom of the chute. Oh and channel out the downstairs as well, of course.

[CaptainArchmage]

I said the save might be early Autumn. I accidentally overwrote it with a backup by accident when restoring my own fort's save :/ Also the tileset is phoebus, sorry I forgot to mention that. Download the LNP (it's very small) and you'll be able to fix everything related to graphics and dfhack to your heart's content. Also, all I did in Autumn was the artifact and the barony, not really major stuff. Just please make a quantum minecart stockpile dumping down the stairs in the crafting room, set to take the same stuff as the bottom of the chute. Oh and channel out the downstairs as well, of course.

Very well, I will try to get LNP and fix the game.

We’ve got a metric fuckton of dead creatures and I think immigration will be impacted.

[Skullsploder]

Yeah I would say I took off about a quarter of that amount. The garbage disposal system I put in place cleared out the main refuse stockpile while the siege was still happening but yeah we're gonna need a sustained effort over a few turns to get the map clean. (Bones, skulls, shells and hair are being siphoned off to the crafting room btw, everything else is atom-smashed)

Also. Coffins. LOTS OF COFFINS. We need to bury all the unnamed dwarf corpses the necromancers bring along before we can get ahead of the fort's deaths

Sorry again about the save.

[CaptainArchmage]

The reduction in immigration does not come from the number of corpses, but rather the combined number of creatures in the units lists under “u”.

[ShadowHammer]

The reduction in immigration does not come from the number of corpses, but rather the combined number of creatures in the units lists under “u”.

This is true, but atomsmashing will help with the framerate anyway.

[CaptainArchmage]

Alright, downloaded and installed LNP, set everything up the way I want. Not sure about which utilities to run. Thanks for making me take up another 188MB of hard drive space.

[CaptainMcClellan]

Alright, downloaded and installed LNP, set everything up the way I want. Not sure about which utilities to run. Thanks for making me take up another 188MB of hard drive space.

Sure man. What are friends for?

[itg]

Alright, downloaded and installed LNP, set everything up the way I want. Not sure about which utilities to run. Thanks for making me take up another 188MB of hard drive space.

Just pick your favorite texture pack (default ASCII, in this case) under the graphics tab, then click "install graphics." It will ask if you want to update your saved games, then say yes.

[CaptainArchmage]

If people want to know why it is taking me so long, I’m writing a kind of introduction to my turn....... which is rather long.

Alright, here goes everything. The following is subject to change at ANY time.

Spoiler: Adaptation for Chapter 1 partially based on....... (click to show/hide)

http://wiki.ss13.co/Storyline

No, the meme images are not my own creations.

The First Book of Dr. Elvenlust

Spoiler: This is a masterful rendition of Dr. Mistêm von Elvenlust in Star Ruby (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: This is another masterful rendition of Dr. Mistêm von Elvenlust in Star Sapphire (click to show/hide)

Chapter One

Every day I spend in this fortress, it further dawns upon me that my being sent here is but a heinous punishment. I know not of what I have done to deserve being sent to this deathtrap, but am reasonable certain that it is only to satisfy the vile sadistic desires of some evil hidden away within dwarven society. Here, today, I have received the rank of acting commander, but make no mistake. This position carries with it none but the responsibility of facing the horrors this place has to bring full on, with no chance of redemption and, in their eyes, every chance of a speedy death.

Every day it seems like there is a new crisis, some moron on the verge of going insane, or a crazed werebeast attacks, or some violent disembodied spirit rips someone’s arms and legs off. I have since lost track of the number of ways one can be sent to the next world here.

Murderchannels - yes, Murderchannels is the going name of this place - is a metropolis established by The Twinkling Bolts, then represented by the seven founders, as part of The Dominant Torch, a dwarven Kingdom ruled over by Queen Rith Shoratlised. Did I say that this place was to be called Ardesonol - "Authoredmountains"? The moment the founders' boots touched the ground they changed the name to "Muderpaddles", such is the influence of this place. The land. What fucking metropolis? There are 64 citizens here! The properly dead outnumber us little over 16 to 1, be they fallen invaders or fallen citizens or fallen monitors.

It of course began with the minerals, the gems, the gold, the iron, the coal, and the flux, but also the adamantine. Adamantine, the new magma, the stuff of legend. Just as one miner hits the blue stuff, everyone's going after it despite not knowing jack shit about it, and still don’t.

Just as all the mines are springing up everywhere to get their hands on every bit of adamantine they can get without a thought as to what is behind it, all of a sudden contact is lost with them. Wannabe migrants or visiting merchants find the mines buried under a stone, or entombed in cooling obsidian. Of course this puts a bit of a stopper in the adamantine-craze.

The death toll from so many mines disappearing to unexpected circumstances results in the leaderships of the dwarves kingdoms calling a halt to unprepared mining expeditions, while allowing it to be kept up with safety precautions within settlements. This makes everyone happy, since it cuts down on the deaths of unprepared citizens and still allows people to mine the stuff. Good job, right?

Today, it turns out there are many other ways a fort can go to hell. Firstly, there's the goblins, the long-term enemy of dwarf who come here to snatch our children or ambush or go full on siege the place, kill all of us, and plunder it.

Next there's the necromancers, those who sought to extend their mortal lives by any means and gained the power to raise a legion of the undead against us, occupy our fortress, and turn it into another one of their accursed hideouts. Should any necromancers sneak inside our fortress, or even camp out on the surrounding plains and mountains, they will have an ample supply of corpses to assault us with.

The kobolds are usually a just a nuisance, but when they have stolen enough from your fortress they bring ambushes which can open even locked doors. You'd think we have enough trained dwarves to cope with them, but no, this rag-tag band of draftees usually sustains heavy injuries and end up at the mercy of the absentee drunks we have for doctors.

The elves stand as the greatest enemy of dwarvenkind we are not constantly at war with. Bringing with them to trade powerful tamed beasts. As an enemy, they will siege us in their hundreds, and while we could take them down with this band of misfits I would not give it the risk.

Humans bring goods to trade, and are normally more amicable, but if they get pissed off they will try to lock the fortress out, waiting in the outside plains and mountains trying to starve off a fortress self-sufficient from the inside until a necromancer turns up and adds them to his army.

Yet those are just the established forces, not the wildcard threats we get from inside and outside. There are werebeasts cursed by the gods to assume the form of a crazed beast, charging in and slaying many at the new moon. Titans and forgotten beasts assail us from above and below, having escaped some kind of infernal prison of sorts in the more distant past. Dragons, minotaurs, cyclops, and ettin try to seize our gold or establish new lairs.

The most scary enemies are those who look just like us, who are a threat even with all entrances sealed. I'm not talking about the vampires though Vampires who look just like us and even lead us, only to drink our blood as we sleep, but rather the overzealous captain of the guard who makes every punishment a damn beating or hammering because we don't have enough chains or the right size or correctly zoned to deal out proper justice.

And yet the citizens of the fortress continue to work, train, and fight through everything that is thrown at them, all through the year. The farms are planted, the weapons are forged, the furnaces are fired, the goods are crafted, the coffins are built, the slabs are engraved, and if things go wrong the militia will have a go at anything the environment throws at them.

I don't know why I'm even writing this down right now, and it isn't going to do me any good but I think I've got it. Everything is going to hell and if I took it up with the mayor of the fortress she'd say it's normal and go back to painting her nails or reading the shitty vampire fiction that even fucking offends vampires. Sure, I could take it to the Queen so she could form her own opinions about it, but outside of here they'd say it's too crazy to be true, but the facts are out there. Now I'm leader. I can bring change about here. I don't care if they call me crazy, I'm not. I'm a dwarf of principles and vision, and if that means steamrolling over careless slackers on the way so be it. I'd say I'm the better dwarf around here. They won't be able to get at me in here, not when it is locked down. From here I shall bring about a new era for dwarvenkind from within this place, one where we should fear not our compatriots and fear not threats from the outside. From here the new dwarves empire, uniting all the kingdoms, shall arise. Now they will call me leader and overseer, but when I'm done they will call me.......

Chapter Two

Thus as I have so described previously, I, Dr. Mistêm von Elvenlust, at 15 years of age, surviving my father along with most of my other family, following the resignation of “Skullsploder”, hath arisen to the position of Acting Commander in Authoredmountains, better known as “Murderpaddles”. The fort hath seen better days, and despite my formidable intelligence it will be a great task to bring matters under control. As the militia captain Lolor Frillconstruct chases after a fleeing troll near some abandoned fortifications, two dangerous ghosts haunt our halls, presentingthe most immediate threat.

I was hauling a boulder to a drop ground when I received my promotion. Skimming over the documents I had been handed, I identified the dangerous ghosts, and that a slab had already been carved for one - a violent ghostly farmer, Asën Asobilush. I quickly ordered Asën’s slab erected in the hallway and ordered a slab engraved for Ast Azothkeskal, the murderous ghostly fishery worker, cancelling a large order for nest boxes on the way. Upon checking the list of jobs and the shift schedule to identify which citizens were free to install the slabs, which is our the must urgent task, I noticed much more that further brought out my rage. First of all, upon the citizens’s lists regarding free dwarves, I also identified that my name had been mis-spelled as “Mistem” rather than “Mistêm”. My rage rising at the apparent levels of illiteracy among the book-keepers, I saw that the corpse of the forgotten beast Gethre, covered in many vile and likely poisonous fluids, was left among the workshops. That the health and safety of the fortress is so compromised is disgraceful! The final straw was that the mayor was not assigned any work besides her administrative tasks. In order to make my grievances known and set matters right, I formalised my orders to the messenger and then made haste to the mayor.

I dropped the boulder and dashed up the sixty-one flights of stairs and connecting hallway on my way to the mayor’s quarters. The mismatched double doors, the right of superior quality microcline and the left of hurridly-worked diorite, were unlocked and slightly open. The entry was clearly marked with the marble plaque “Mayor Aban Asrerdodók”, the previous mayor. I paused for a moment, in the realisation that the room assignments were quite out of date and the current mayor was practically borrowing an office and dining room from the former mayor, and then rapped hard on the doors with both my fists. The doors swung wide open and I entered.

”I’ll be there in a minute!"

The voice drifted through the pair of doors at the opposite end of the room, behind the mayorial desk and throne. They were mismatched between diorite and marble, but this time firmly locked. I advanced to the maple seat before the part-marble-part-granite desk and slumped down, exhausted from my run up the stairs. An intermittent grating sound, like that of a quern, appeared to come from within the locked doors, but nothing else seemed to be stirring but myself. Surveying the surroundings, I observed the engravings that covered the floor - symbols of our civilisation and the local government, as well as images of dwarves, anvils, and gems. I noticed that the desk was surprisingly clear of the residue of active administrative duties. Upon the desk, lay a steel chisel and hammer showing vague signs of accursed rust, and an empty glass inkwell and pen neatly. Two trays were placed at opposite sides, one labeled “In” and the other “Out”. The “In” tray was barely visible under the dangerous stack of books, slabs, loose sheets of vellum, scrolls, and bags. I picked the topmost piece of vellum.

MINECART MAINTENANCE URGENT STOP
MINECARTS IN TRADE DEPOT AND AUXILLIARY CORPSE STORAGE HAVE NO WHEELS STOP
MINECARTS NEED WHEELS TO OPERATE STOP
NEED EIGHT GUAGE ONE SIZED MINECART WHEELS STOP

"What is this?" I thought. Minecarts with no wheels? Who is running this place! I laid down the paper only to trigger a small avalanch of slabs, books, and folders over the in tray. I seized another folder and opened it.

Trading with Human Merchants - 19th Galena 132
A human caravan from Behal Uthros has arrived and Goods have been ordered to the trade depot. Requesting your order in “Skullsploder’s absence”. Documentation herein.

I promptly stuffed the folder inside the leather briefcase I had been given. Trading matters are too important to leave unattended, but fortunately are within the competencies of an Acting Commander. As I closed the briefcase, another sheet of paper drifted to the floor, and I picked it up.

Subject: Naked Mole Dogs
Your honour, the halls are being overrun by naked mole dogs! They keep interrupting work. Would appreciate military assistance.

Sincerely,
Udib Eralozor

This was a certifiable disgrace - a dwarven fortress being held up by non-threatening cavern wildlife? I made note to review the state of the military as soon as the current matters were sorted.

Looking over to the “Out” tray contained numerous empty vials of coloured wax, two urist-long rolls of leather coated with flecks of dried fluids and blood, rusted knives also showing flecks of dried blood, nail clippings, loose copper, silver, and even gold coinage, and cloth cuttings, four empty mugs, scattered white powder, and a small but heavily-creased sheet of vellum contorted into a spiral. Upon the desk in front of the bauxite throne lay an open book. Curious, I bent over to read.

Spoiler: There’s a reason why this is spoilered. No shit, Quality Control is here for a reason. I put a lot of effort into writing this properly. If you’re going to read it, bring the brain bleach. (click to show/hide)

Sankis firmly held Kara to the bed with his iron grip, his burning gaze locked to her’s as she felt the strength drain out of her.

Drawing a steel dagger, he inserted the blade between the [NOPE] and [WHAT_THE_HELL] and cut the [HELL_NOPE] open in one swift movement.

Then, fangs bared, &$%#$%@%@$#$@$! *%$$$@ UEFPEWFWEFgrwpgjgrwgwggwghq0gjegqrg

The book fell from my hands as I fell back into my seat, staring up at the marble ceiling as I struggled to make sense of words that had just been burned into my mind like enchanted runes upon stone.

A scream brought me back, sweating. Unable to determine its direction, I was again started by a further almighty crash from the stairwell.

”F’in gods Stinthäd! Watch yerself with that anvil, yer gonna lose yer toes someday like that.

Was that all? A scream from the stairwell? A further click from the doors deeper within the quarters brought me around again to face the mayor, Rîsen Nïngeler “Burnedsteel”, fully dressed in hastily-fastened clothing. It was all quite new clothing, besides her cave spider silk cloak, which was showing some signs of wear. Her footware was mismatched - on her right foot she wore a masterwork troll fur shoe encrusted with rectangular granite cabochons, while on her left foot she wore a rope reed fiber sandal. Both were stained with old blood, as were her trousers, hood, and mittens. She deposited another large leather roll, with strange geared attachments - wet with fresh blood - in the “Out” tray and turned around to me.

“What is that? Are you injured?” I enquired.

Nothing. I was fishing in my room.

”Fishing?!" I had not realised the mayorial quarters were so well equipped - there was not much running water in the fortress to the best of my knowledge, but my judgement recommended not raising further questions.

”Yes. Fishing. For certain things. Are you here for a reason?"

"I am Dr. Mistêm von Elvenlust, Acting Commander of this fortress. I have just taken up my position since Skullsploder resigned. I am here to discuss some matters about the state of the fortress, and about the shift schedule around here." I decided to cut straight to the point to expedite the meeting and avoid further awkward situations and mental hazards.

”I.... see. Did Skullsploder say why he resigned? I thought he was staying on until the end of the year. He said something about human merch- Oh! Did you deal with the Merchants?"

”I did not ask Skullsploder why he stepped down, and I haven’t yet dealt with the merchants. I have just taken up my position. I do want to ask you-"

”Go ahead!"

”I want to ask you about the shift schedule. We’ve got some dangerous ghosts around he-"

”How cute!"

”-re and we need to memorialise them. One slab is to be engraved, the other needs to be set up. I noticed your schedule’s free at the moment. Could you deal with the furniture hauling? It needs to be done as soon as possible.” I chose to ignore her interruption and press the question.

”I could....... but I don’t really go out of this room. These.... chambers. Is it OK if I do?” she replied.

It turns out the mayor had been assigned to the “vampire’s den”, which happened to cover the mayorial quarters. I was unsure of which moron had done this and on what grounds - the mayor seemed obsessed with vampires, and have some strange and bloody habits, but did not show the outright signs of vampirism. It would likely not be possible to determine the responsible party unless I got an outright confession.

After doing some quick security checks regarding her drinking patterns, I removed her from the burrow, allowing her to mingle with normal dwarven society once more. I then pointed to the pile of paperwork in the “IN” tray.

”I’ll be taking all of that in my capacity as Acting Commander” I said to her.

”You will? OK......."

Taking my chance, I ran outside into a stairwell and hollered for a wheelbarrow, which, after some argument, was delivered into my hands. I piled the entire contents of the “IN” tray inside, along with my briefcase, and headed out before she could ask me about the “Out” tray, turned back and yelled-

”Your shift starts now!"

-and then I made a run for it. "This fortress, surely, needs desperate attention", I thought.

Chapter 3

Lolor Thîdasaban charged through the gates of Authoredmountains into the fading light, towards the unfinished fortifications in the south. Drawing near, a roar thundered through the air startling away birds, and the drum beat of crunching horn against stone boomed. The troll Estrur stood by a stone portcullis installed in what was, some time in the past, intended to be a new gateway. The microcline walls provided no defence, and were built not of smooth blocks but rather of rough stone boulders, but the troll had to be expelled from the area. It was not acceptable to allow a troll to destroy these fortifications, even if they were unfinished and abandoned.

”Me Estrur." the troll grunted, turning around to face Lolor. ”I be goring you......."

Lolor brandished his steel mace - it was purchased from a dwarven caravan the year before, and had, in the current year, smashed the brains out of a berserk donkey and out of Camela Bulblyric the elf. Militia captain and sole member of “Mace I”, it would now be his mission to slay Estrur.

Lolor charged, landing a glancing blow upon Estrur’s left foot, and a second hit upon the lower body in the stomach - heavy blows, but insufficient to break flesh or crack bone. Howling in pain, Estrur charged, flailing wildly whilst Lolor dodged the claws, instead being knocked flat onto his back. Rolling away to dodge the next blow, Lolor found himself hanging in mid-air the troll’s grasp, but wriggled free and landing upon his feet. Lancing at Estrur, he landed another blow with the mace, and blocked the troll’s following strike before being knocked flying again as Estrur charged. With his mitten absorbing the strike of a tusk rather than his steel gauntlet, he shook the bruising hand and stepped back. Estrur snatched at the mitten, but as the grip was undecided Lolor proceeded to strike at the head and upper body, slowly dealing the troll damage and concussion as the beast continued to charge.

Thus the battle continued into the dusk and twilight - Estrur charging, knocking Lolor flying with Lolor returning heavy blows with the mace in hopes of weakening the beast. The steel mace was not that effective against the troll’s light clothing, thick fur, and tough bones, but Lolor managed to block Estrur’s charges. “I need a hand here. Where are the others?” shot through Lolor’s head. Hammer I had also been called to action against Estrur, but they had been deep within the fortress. The war hammers, however, were far more effective against trolls, for even a glancing blow from one could shatter bone and incapacitate a troll. “If I cannot slay Estrur, I must hold the line here until the others arrive” he determined.

With the full moon and stars gazing down, Lolor finally slammed the mace into Estrur’s chest, to which Estrur drew back, gasping for breath, before returning for the charge, again landing Lolor flat on his back. The beast was getting winded, and might soon get exhausted as his lungs started to bruise up. Unleashing another scream, again Estrur charged to gore Lolor, landing, again, a strike not on the gauntlet, but on the mitten. His hand must be turning blue from the bruises, Lolor thought, but the skin was not yet broken; again, he dragged himself to his feet.

”The Hammersquad has arrived!” - came the cry from behind a tree, as Lolor tumbled backwards from another collision with the troll. Estrur strode forward, and clumsily missed a swing at the prone Lolor, before, as he became conscious of the emerging threat, turned just to see Rith Eturcilob Gashcoz Iseth slam a superior quality silver warhammer into his left upper leg from the side, behind his cloak. The crack, as though a great branch had snapped from a tree, followed by Estrur’s howl of pain as he fell, told Lolor that the battle was now decided.

Rith Boulderroofs the Proliferation of Questing was a competent hammerdwarf and former part-time drunken brawler who had scored seven notable kills in the past year, earning him a full title. His combat style - a combination of using forged weapons as well as his natural ones - was evident to anyone who spent time sufficient time watching him spar. With Estrur down, Rith easily dodged the subsequent blow and landed a strike on the troll’s chest, causing Estrur to gasp for breath, while he took a following punch to the foot. Still prone, Lolor dashed forward on all fours and swung with his arm, scratching Estrur on the biceps, with the troll giving into the pain. Swinging with his hammer, Rith brought the next blow across Estrur’s head, with another crack telling of the damage. Estrur groaning and convulsing in pain, Lolor took his chance, bringing his mace down squarely upon the skull - a sound like a ripe mellon splitting open rang out across the unifinished courtyard, followed by a meaty squishing sound, and Estrur became still.

Lolor pulled himself up and sat down against Estrur’s still body, watching for a moment the bright blue blood dripping from the troll’s broken head, and then turned to Rith.

”Thanks for the assist. You got here just in time” Lolor said.
”No problem. But you owe me one."
”Cigar time?” Lolor produced two dwaven cigars from underneath his breastplate, holding them between his middle finger, index finger, and thumb. Rith pulled one up and bit on it while Lolor fumbled for a source of ignition.
”Did anyone else get out here?"
Rith extracted the cigar from between his molar ”Dastot Lancergloves, was right behind me, but I think he got left behind during the charge." Dastot Lancergloves was the militia commander and leader of Hammer I.
”Well then he’s probably turned back now."
”Anything more we need to do out here?"
”No. It looks like the structure out here took a beating" - Lolor pointed to the heavily damaged wall grates serving as a portcullis - “nothing much we can do about that ourselves until the masons get here at fix it. For us - mission accomplished”.
”Fine. We’re now off-duty, I'm going back inside and clean myself up. You?"
Lolor lit the two cigars and stood up, sending puffs of smoke up into the clear, cool air with the full Moon overhead.
”Me? Since I’m done, I’m going to take a break for a bit. Lolor heaved himself up, picking up his mace, and began the journey with Rith back to Authoredmountains.

Chapter 4

In the halls of Authoredmountains, Rîsen Nïngdeler set the marble memorial up as her first job on the shift schedule. The Acting Commander had been very particular that this should be the first job done, and that it should be done as soon as possible. It was not a particularly hard job to accomplish - the slab had come with some instructions for installation, and she placed it, the atmosphere of the hall changed, as though a certain dark presence had faded away.......

The brooding spectre of Asën Boardcarnages hung by the granite door of Oddom Workmosses’ tiny bedroom. While ghosts seemed a common presence around Authoredmountains, some were outright dangerous, either capable of scaring a dwarf to death or carrying out violet acts. Asën was one of the dangerous and violent ghosts, passing his time and occasionally causing havok. Having been locked in his room and dehydrated in the year 129, his spirit had returned with a vengence through lack of memorialisation or entombment combined with the nature of his end.

A sudden gust of wind whipped up in the tiny room where none should be, wrapping around the spectre - who became bound for a moment, while his glowing form appeared to evaporate, starting from the limbs, and then passing through the torso to the head. The ghost fading from sight, the air became still once more.

Having placed the memorial, Rîsen too the opportunity to read the engraving, as did the other passers by. It was an unremarkable slab, but engraved with the important details, quirks, desires, and achievements of Asën’s short life - short not only in dwarven but also human years - now placed in the hallway for the fortress to see and remember.

Mîstem von Elvenlust’s Diary, 2nd Limestone, because it is passed midnight: I fell asleep in the hallway after we dealt with the troll. Of course, I got awoken by work taking place in the wee hours. The good news though is the first memorial, to Asën Boardcarnages, has been installed and his violent spirit has been given some rest at last. While it does not make more comfortable and even angers me to learn that Asën died after being locked in his room by accident, I will sleep better tonight in the knowledge we have not one, but two fewer threats to life and limb around here.

Writing. Writing. Once this chapter (dispelling ghosts) is done tomorrow I will move onto a new post. <- Done!

Holy shit guys, how the fuck did this get screwed up so badly?

[CaptainArchmage]

Chapter Five

As of this morning, on the third day of the month of Limestone of the year MCXXXII, I hath been acting commander but three days, and yet the darkness about this place is growing. Last night, I was making my way down the stairs when I happened upon the entryway to the burial chambers. There is the large, smooth burial chamber flanked by statues, but opposite to that I found some rough excavations with five hallways leading to dead ends. These turned out to be catacombs - the Eastern-most hallway has been filled with coffins! Curious, I began to inspect them. One of the first row was empty, the rest were marked as containing the dwarven corpses which had formed one of the necromancers’ undead armies. However, the last few contained citizens of the fort. Kumil Medtoblanlar the Weaver, Ineth Osramid the Woodcutter, Bomrek Tiristsedur the Fishery Worker, Alåth Unolmosus the Administrator, Kulet ònulidrom Zansongniral Monom the Mace Lord.

As I was wondering why a Mace Lord was buried in this place, I looked at the last coffin - ‘Skullsploder’ Mistêmlecad the Metalsmith. What? Isn’t ’Skullsploder’ still alive? I grabbed a nearby and pried the lid off the coffin - a long-dead skeleton and detached right lower arm presented themselves. An inscription was engraved within the finely-crafted granite coffin: “Yeah um Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain”. The number “2” was engraved by the sign as well. I slammed the lid back on and ran out of there. Something strange is afoot here.

The following morning - the fourth of the month and of my having ascended to my position - was rather chaotic. I was on edge after seeing the tombs, I was faced with the news that a “trader” by the name of ... .... was ready to trade at the depot, that the mayor was still complaining of her rooms not being assigned properly, and that a naked mole dog was running loose in the stairwell. I firstly promoted myself to militia captain, to lead a new squad. The details could be sorted later; I was now in a position of military leadership. I then had the trader trade a large amount of valuable items - which happens to include slightly worn clothing for some inexplicable reason - for all the metal, wood, food, drink and thread, in the caravan, as well as some military equipment. A bit of bargaining was had over the price of the goods, but we got what we wanted in the end of this round of trading. I then fixed the mayor’s rooms.

After filling out the paperwork in the dining hall during lunch, for as of yet I have not requisitioned a proper office or dining room or even a larger bedroom, I was startled by a voice-

”Sorry to bother you young one, but.... we’ve got a bit of a situation here on our hands....."

I looked up at Dastot Lancergloves, the militia commander. His referring to me as “young one” was, I admit, jarring, but there is a 30-year difference in age between he and me, and he clearly meant no insult. As I looked up, he showed me some paper and pointed towards the bottom.

”It concerns a matter of honour. You probably know by now we lack a keeper of books, and as you can see, our honour and yours is greatly belittled here.

Taking a closer look, it was the militia manifest. I had been placed on the list as the newest militia commander - under Squad Name was “Name Goes Here”.

Name Goes Here

NAME GOES HERE

”And who the FUCK filled this shit in?" I coughed out with my tankard of dwarven ale. I had not decided upon a name for my squad, so by all rights the militia manifest should not have mentioned it.

"The handwriting looks to be that of the mayor."

There was no argument. The elaborate, flowery handwriting could only belong to one person.

”By Stagshil, Rít, and Rîsen Uzoletur! We need to get a new squad name, right now, before anyone sees this."

Dastot seated himself. ”As a fall-back option, we tend to name squads by their weapons-of-choice, followed by the number of squad. It both provides generals some information on the competencies of squads, and filters out certain, undesirable names, as well as-"

No. We’re not going to do that here. We’ll name the squad properly, as it used to be done in the days of yore. How did they do that?

”There are many ways. There were rituals, the reading of animal entrails, the throwing of dice-

”Anything we can do here, right now?"

”That method, yes....... give your squad a name as the first thing that comes to your mind when thinking of what you should all aim to be, to achieve, to be remembered as."

The image flashed across the well of my mind-

The Black Sun?

”Then it is already decided."

The goods to formalise the deed and expunge the accursed writing from the militia manifest were to be found in the tanner’s workshop. After cleansing the documentation, I inscribed under “Squad Name":

The Black Sun

”Have you decided upon a weapon and gear?"

”For now? I will take...... this well-crafted steel sword, this exceptional cedar shield, and this finely-crafted steel helmet." It was a reasonable request - this equipment existed, would not weigh me down much, and protect my vital parts while still being effective. The best quality shields we possessed, at first glance, were made out of wood, likely because of our legendary carpenter, Udib Bomreknëlas

The matter decided, I headed off to hunt down the equipment - a quest which would take most of the fifth of the month, as well as the sixth. The bronze long sword could be found in the trade depot, while the exceptional cedar shield could be found in the abandoned rooms filled with nestboxes “slated for removal”. After spending the seventh browsing through lists and investigating many potential locations of storage or misplacement, I was unable to locate the helmet, so after collecting a backpack from the trade depot, I began to search for provisions, when a howling wind began to tear through the fortress.

Running to the dining hall, I discovered the epicenter of the disruption. The murderous ghost of Ast Imortalityshot was disintegrating in mid-air, just as had been told in the case of Asën Boardcarnages!

As the last of the ghostly light dissipated from the dining hall, the air became still once more. A belch caught my ear, issuing forth from Onget Coalwhiskers, seated at the other end of the table, eating a prickle berry wine roast, unpreturbed by the goings-on. Apparently the presence of the murderous ghost was considered normal! Not wishing to cause any further disturbance, I turned to leave, but not before noticing a grave anomaly.

The corpse of Åblel Tekkudkûbuk lay on the floor, face contorted in fear. I had heard Ast had scared someone to death a few days before I had ascended to office - the corpse was still here, after seven days, lying by one of the thrones in the fucking dining room! I turned to Onget.

”Hey, um, you do know there’s a dead dwarf in here, right?"

Onget belched once more, and brushed the crumbs out of his long moustache and beard. ”Dead dwarf? What?

”You do know there’s a dead dwarf here? Right? Over there, a few seats over from you?" I indicated to the location of the corpse.

”Oh yeah. That guy. I think - I think someone was going to move him. I’d put in a work notice about that. Don’t worry.” He began to break down a little, but controlled himself. After a pause, he then asked "By the way, have you smelt a funny smell?"

”A smell?"

”Yeah. A really, really terrible smell."

”Where from?"

”The stoneworks."

”I think I know what’s wrong then." I didn’t push the matter further. Indeed, the stoneworks contained the rotting corpse of a forgotten horror named Gathre Boatsjackals, that had crawled up from the depths. Onget was a kind soul, seventeen years old, and was well known for his patience, empathy, spacial sense, creativity, willpower, and focus. However, his intuition was particularly bad, and he often did the first thing coming to mind. Thus, it was completely unsurprising that he would not attribute the vile smell to Gathre’s rotting corpse, even though it was in plain sight.

”I’ll be off then. I’ll try to get Åblel a decent burial, and they’ve also put Ast to rest now, so don’t worry."

I headed off out of the dining hall, only to bump into Tulon Violenthammer, who quickly confirmed that a cobalt memorial had indeed been raised to Ast. The fortress can now rest confident that the dangerous ghosts have been put to rest.

Chapter Six

I retired to bed on the night of the seventh for some much-needed rest in my usual room. I had not arranged for a new room as I did not have the opportunity to do so, but as I rested down it occurred to me I should requisition one. It did not take me long to drop off, but my dreams had become nightmares of browsing through thousands of ledgers to find missing items. I was awoken by a violent pounding on the door. After answering the door in a daze, Udib the Fishery Worker hurriedly informed me as to another naked mole dog on the loose in a main staircases. Making great effort to ignore the stench coming from his trousers, I showed him a map of the fortress and asked him to indicate where he had seen the beast.

That’s right, some genius decided to leave the staircase open to the upper caverns. The upper caverns are quite deep, and their reaches are quite unexplored. However, there are not one, but two stairwells directly open to whatever lurks down there. It is likely Gathre Boatsjackals the forgotten beast invaded the fortress through that weak point. I dispatched orders to the masons to wall off the opening and promptly went back to sleep.

.......

[CaptainMcClellan]

Anyone still interested in keeping this fort going? I know it's been... half a year. Still... I'd like to get back into it.