CHAPTER 24: Beauty and the BeastsEnd of 111As the year come to a close, so too does the training of various animals.
Ablel the proud lioness served us valliantly for over 2 years, but lions are not dwarf, and underground life takes it's toll on the psyche of a savannah beast. she finally snaps, and her glorious days are put to an end as her blood splatters all over the cavern entrance, a strange match to the red zircon deposits ornating most of BASE1's walls. Ablel is the first great cat, but many more are to come...
This one decides to go rogue while keeping watch over her owner. The macedwarf quickly reacts, grabbing a named weapon of some sort. In a drunken stupor, he clubs his prized cougar repeatedly before fleeing the scene. the cougar give chase, but soon collapses.
And this one tries to swallow an entire cat, which ends as badly as you'd expect for the cat. That's two less cheetahs watching over our workers once the guards show up.
twenty-six (!!!!) dwarves and pets show up to stomp on the carcass of the cougar, before a butcher decides that this is enough. He grabs the tenderized remains and drag it to the
miasma factory kitchens. the assembled stompers remain there for aproximately 2 weeks.
upstairs, an eagle goes batshit before the animal trainer can finalise the class on ''not going batshit during class''.
The middle of he inner court is a terrible spot in which to start an uprising against your dwarven masters, because it is overwatched by a minimum of 16 of those said dwarven masters. they all have crosbows and have killed hordes of goblins with them. A mere eagle is no match for them, and the bird is dispatched within seconds. Orion is the one to score the killing bolt. He's a speardwarf, one of the few members of the milicia who decided to actually train with his given weapon instead of bashing people with his wooden crossbow. Good job, Orion!
The young speardwarf mentions that some members of the milicia haven't had a tomb designated in the milicia crypts yet. I spend 30 minutes browsing unending lists of names and titles and finally solve this issue. Now you guys can die in peace!
Unlike most of our enemies, who usually die in pieces, before being thrown in the dumpatorium. It's eastern wing is now half full, after ony a month of completion. dead stuff truly is our greatest natural ressource! (Yes, the dingos are a close second)
The eagle's last words were ''flee... my brothers... be free!'' the bird's astonishingly high charisma prompts another bird to escape. 5 dogs jump on it, already alert and mobilised by the first affront. A third eagle discovers that he is to be a father, and promptly commit suicide by crossbow.
A few chicks reach maturity. I order the males to be turned into delicious chicken stew, for we lack the space to feed so many friggin new birds.
We made terrible mistakes trying to train every animal ever, but at least our knowledge of animal husbandry has improved on many fronts. Tigers and lions, those fierce beasts, I totally get: we've spent two years coexisting peacefully with them. Gray langurs, tho, are more puzzling as caugh one and only one, and that was yeaterday. the trainers haven't even looked at it yet. I guess it came with a ''Langurs for dummies'' book hidden in it's ass.
We've had enough fucking incidents for now. I look at our ledgers: ''9 new dingos captured''. Enough is enough. Slaughter them all. Thanks to our newfound knowledge, i know that training dingos is a mistake, for the only way to win is not to play.
Just like the lion, this underground eagle just wont have it anymore. He rebels! He should have consulted a map before going commando, for the bird soon start wandering the distillery randomly. Spoiler, he dies.
Kikrost is another kind of caged and sad bird. He is now spending his days with the milicia, training in the barracks, but because he is the worst person ever, nobody likes him. kikrost made zero friends since he was drafted, because he complains constantly. here's a typical conversation:
-i fucking hate those injuries!
-Why will you not go to the hospital, Kikrost? it's right there across the hall, i could take you there...
-FUCK YOU CUNT!
Right in front of that exact barrack where Kikrost and his
friends affiliated soldiers are sparring, a Troll escapes the disused assassination range, by breaking apart his cage and smashing the door. an entire squad greets him as he crosses the second door. Goodnight, mister troll.
At least SOME people in this fort have more initiative than this huge crippled bitch. Sakzul the crafter just claimed a workshop, insisting that he be left alone while he works on the greatest item the fort will ever know.
Speaking of artistic endeavor, some more statues are fresh out of the forges to distract from the troll massacre that just took place further west on this floor, I install four of them around the staircase. This is a well-traveled area, and those awesome new sculptures should brighten the mood of our citizens. Assuming they love traction benches as much as i do. (who doesn't?) One of them depict an elf eating a human in the war against Quula, and I'm starting to question the sanity of the people involved in this fabled ''Battle of Shocks''.
Quula herself is still around tho. The new year is finally here, and she has been with us for four seasons. Yet during those twelve months, she has not
said anything important, merely alluding that important things were at sake. Why do you haunt us, Archfiend of blood, First spawn of the underworld? What brings you to Whisperwhip?
Quula gives no answers, for she vanishes mysteriously whenever i approach her. But forgotten beasts have started appearing right around her arrival, and now most of our trained animals are going insane. Coincidence? I would love to think so, but as time passes and bloodshed intensifies, I have a harder and harder time believing Quula's innocence. Little do I know, I would know her true purpose sooner than i expect it.
Foreshadowing is fun, but being able to navigate the caverns is even more FUN. Work begins on a bridge to the other side of the river, from the old Olmmen lair. There is no direct route, so a two-part bridge it shall be.
The craftdwarf Sakzul has now completed his work, more ornate than a bridge, but also much less useful. I'm not sure how this all fits on a single ring, altho once again spatial redundancy is a well documented concept for dwarves, and humans alike, for legends talk of the legendary hero Vanok, who could carry 500 chunks of meet in his offhand.
Sakzul tells me that while in the workshops, he heard the complains of our metalworkers, working with little charcoal to produce an ever-increasing amount of goods. to lighten their workload, (and also because some civilians have gone idle) I order the populace to run outside and fetch the bolts lying around, so we don't have to craft so many new ones.
''The count, Sakzul adds, was also complaining about a special request. He said he wants...
-Yes. Let me guess. he wants QUERNS?
-Indeed. I'll get right to it, sir''
More idlers is usually an indicator that progress has been made. Tun's room is finally enlarged. The engravers did a marvelous job of decorating the place with masterwork pieces of sculpture, altho there seems to be a greater facination than before for the Archfiend Ukas Archescort, and the devouring of people. Aside those I show here, there are 2 more depiction of Quula's true persona, and 3 more of dudes getting eaten by elves. I cannot spare the dwarfpower to dismantle all the furnitures and relocate them alongside this new wall. I know of a better way to use this newfound space...
Move ALL the fucking querns in there. I don't care that they ae poor quality, or mismatched, or crowded, or redundant. i want them gone from our stockpile.
''Hey, Tun, good news! Your querns are ready!
-Good, Dumas, good. But make sure that YOU DO NOT EXPORT THEM UNDER ANY PRETENSE!
-Yeah, hum, about that. I heard that erh... some guys wanted to steal the querns. So I moved them all. Into your room.
-Oh.
-Well, it was the only way to keep them safe from, erh, crime I guess. Please remain in your room until further notice. to watch over the querns.
-I... well if that's the only way to keep our querns save, i will.
-And hum, make sure that you are CONSTNANTLY using them to mill some grain. To make sure they work.
-Ludicrous! i am a count, i will not work!
-Our querns are our pride and identity! how can we define ourselves as a nation if we don't ensure that our querns are the best?
-Oh, well when you put it like that. I'll do my best!
-Good, now i must BY ARMOK WHAT IS THAT SMELL
My good lord, the stench is unbearable, and it's coming from the kitchens again. When I said to butcher those dingos, it was also implied that someone should MOVE the food to some barrels and the rest of the carcass to the dumpatorium! Bloody Quula I swear our workers are getting worse by the minute.
Good grief, it's a siege. Just, hum, tell people to go back inside i guess. Between our milicia and the mountainhome guards hanging near our entrance, I don't even bother taking a look at our attackers. A few days later, i notice we no longer are under siege, and forget that people are technically hiding in the dinning hall. ''Wow, so many idlers, I think, surely all the work around is finally complete!'' Not realising that this sudden influx of free dwarves is caused by OMGWTF still in effect, I order the guys to go outside and unforbid ALL the shields and weapons lying around. big mistake. now we won't see most of the population for a year...
Our personal record of casualty is matched, with another birth during the outdoor massacre. I guess people are so used to death that they casually chug out babies whenever goblins show up to keep the population up. Truly, the dwarven reproduction system is unmatched in it's adaptability.
However, pigs were sort of slaughtered (and fell down the river, as pigs are prone to do) when two trolls showed up on the eastern bank of the river. Now i wont have to wonder how many i should butcher :/. (Oh and spoiler, the trolls die)
With that siege crushed, the caravan packs up and leave for the mountainhome. The outpost liason, however, has some news for us. Just something minor. within two years the queen will arrive, for she is to declare whisperwhip her capital. Why would she EVER come here, of all place? The outpost liason has seen this hellhole for himself, the constant violence, the sieges, the blood and the dismembered dog squadrons. Why would the queen EVER think this is what a capital should look like? And that's discounting the fact that all the other cities in the Citadel of clutches are grouped together on another continent.
-Wait, disregard all that. Don't we need to like, make offering to the mountainhomes to be elligible as a capital? We never... we never gave any riches to you merchants
-Oh, but you did. remember in 105, after the great wars, when you told us to just ''take all those stupid rags for free, they were taking space and you'd get them back from the next siege?''
-Scrap clothes. We met the incredible offering threshold with DIRTY BLOODIED RAGS?!?
-Yes, the queen is ever so grateful for those boatsfull of used dirty trousers. she will be leaving soon, so make sure her quarters are ready.
I have no suitable location I can dig for new grandiose quarters, nor do I have the workers to do so. The upper floors are as big as they could get without hitting sand, the middle floors are next to an aquafier, and the bottom floors are either too remote or too remote AND filled with deadly caverns. There is one area tho, that would fir perfectly. The one i planned to use as the new crypt. It's cloe to everything, yet remote enough that the queen wont be sleeping next to say, Kikrost. And it's spacious enough to host a throne room, flanked by a royale bedroom and a dinning hall. we'll just have to find someplace else for the crypts...
Wait...
Just as I'm thinking of a new crypt location, it hits me. Suddenly, everything makes sence. If the rumors are true, and i now believe they are, then I know why the queen is coming, for it is the same reason she sent me here 15 years ago, the same reason that now haunts this very halls with her gloomy presence.
Quula. The queen is coming for Quula, also known as Uks Archescort, the Ferocious Nails, creator of all black magic, Giraffe fiend, spawn of the underworld, slayer of kings, enslaver of nations, goddess of blood and murder. That's why the deity has been lurking here, ominously, for over 13 months now, waiting, without saying a word. She is waiting for the queen. For the monarch of the Citadel of Clutches is no ordinary dwarf...
She is a necromancer.