Exploration Log, Imush Nakuthkel
4 Slate, 252
Outpost Cattenushil, "Channeledice"
Thinking back, it seems like so long ago since the ruin of The Sabres of Heat, the first and last independent Dwarven civilization. I had not been born when that land fell, when the humans of the Confederation of Pokers and their Demon Lord Fivi Razorpoisons, the Hateful Thunder, took us in and even allowed us even to keep our ways. That was in the year 97, over 150 years ago, and I do not believe there is a single dwarf alive who remembers those days. Today, though, there are so few of us, less than two dozen that I know of. If we fall, I know not who will carry our names to Armok, but even I, the youngest among us at 52, and the unwilling leader of our band, understand that we cannot back down from this. I still remember those long hours of digging through old parchments and maps in the libraries of searching long-lost records of the distant south for any hint of where we could create a new home. Finally, we had discovered what we thought would be the perfect location. A glacial mountain far distant from those damnable elves who destroyed our home, who still hate us and hunt us down even in human lands, past even the splinter faction that broke away from them after the Harrowing and now dominates the southern plains and forests. I have spoken to the elven rulers of the Sky of Feeding; they share no love for us, either, but they never agreed with the Harrowing, and the lands we are destined for were far beyond any they had any desire for. They knew of our destination, a great glacier and a volcanic mountain with no name in the southern wastes; an evil land, they claimed. We scoffed, then; surely, they were exaggerating. We had seen no such rumors in the far north from whence we had hailed. The seven of us, for then we were only seven, continued south to that mountain with no name.
Perhaps, thinking back on that, it was a mistake. Oh, that place where we founded Cattenushil was indeed perfect in that no one would wish it for themselves, as we found, but it was far beyond even our expectations. The shambling of that long dead yeti, almost all of its body rotted or missing, told us the truth of this land, one that would drain our souls and reanimate our bodies even after death. Worse, we found that our supplies were running low; crossing half the world had left us with less than a year's worth of drink and food, and there was no soil here, no place to grow our seeds. We would need to dig deeply, indeed, and quickly. Even with the blessing of Datan Goldcrested, Mother Goddess of earth and mountains, we could not rest even for a second, but we did all of this and more. We secured ourselves within the icy side of the mountain overlooking the molten caldera, and prepared our defenses. No more undead came, but that yeti still wanders the mountain, waiting, and the rumors of the elves were unsettling enough that, rather than let our horses starve to death or butcher them for food, we cast them into the volcano where their bodies, burned, would not rise again. So too, more dwarves came. Some to live, and some to trade, claiming to represent the abandoned throne and the undying legacy of the last king, the few and scattered dwarves who yet remained in human lands. We had dug deeply, churning out trade goods from against all hope, and just as we had given that hope up for lost along with the last of our ale, that caravan we never expected came with fermentable foods and drink to sustain us with newcomer Likot Tiristasmel at its head. At that time, too, our miners Dobar and Uzol succeeded in breaching a cavern of water which we even now are preparing to bring up to the surface by bucket brigade for our farms. Primitive, and embarrassing to see it written down here plainly even by my own pen, but candidly, we haven't the time or the resources to dig out a full pump system yet. Too, we have yet to breach the caldera, but when we do, we shall have all we need for iron, gold, and steel. All we need is sand for glass and wood for beds, but the liaison has promised to come again, and we expect both the elves and humans will come as well.
We will build a mountainhome here, I swear it. We shall surpass the ancient halls of Coalmatched, Towerdawns, and Windcopper, fallen over a century ago, and create a new civilization for our people. This oath I swear again this year, before Datan Goldcrested, ruler of mountains and earth, before Katthir the Healing Barricade, governor of fortresses, and before all the ancient deities of the dwarves.
~~~
When I learned that my latest world was named Todiecamo, I probably should have taken it as a hint. On top of that, I took a terrifying glacier embark when I have absolutely no experience with glaciers, but at least I got the evil effect I was finally looking for. I still haven't seen any weird weather, which has me a little concerned, but I'm sure it'll come up eventually, and I'm air-tight in a pinch. As long as that yeti stays out and I don't get any really weird moods for bones or something (though now that I jinxed it, note to self: get bones and shells at the earliest opportunity), I should be safe for the moment. Even if I didn't know until looking in Legendviewer just now that the Dwarves had been extinct for over a century, I'm really looking forward to this. Seems I'll have to rely on natural growth to improve my fortress. I'd better spike the booze and get some good air circulation going for those dwarven spores...
Also, Legends Viewer did reveal that there is precisely one dwarf who would have seen the fall of the dwarves, contrary to Imush's beliefs. Mind you, Litast Chambermoon is likely not very talkative, having that whole "were curse" on top of "last of her kind" thing to deal with, and she's been busy pursuing a once-sided vendetta against the (wrong!) elves for the last century, so I probably won't be seeing her at all.
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Topic: What's going on in your fort? (Read 6099824 times)