Soo many half finished forts, so i present to you for your hopeful delectation a random scribble of mine from my bridge of death fort;
First diary entry of Obok Ralukurvad, mayor of this fledgling mountainkeep, and leader of the initial scouting party, The Strapping Oar of The Equal Staff. The date is 2nd Granite 1055. Spring has just brought the wet season to us once again, which dours the spirits of at least half the fortress that I have assigned to the first great wonder to be known throughout the Universe of Prophecies, this small keep, this noble Bloatedguts the Belches of Ages.
It was our illustrious architect that devised a great series of bridges leading to a trade depot pushed into the sky and surrounded by lava on all sides to make sure we get the best deal out of any whom wish to trade with us, so far the supports are almost finished, towering it several levels above the ground, each bridge is engineered to alternately throw any unwanted hellions off into ponds if they're lucky, later additions will deal with a more purifying landing spot, tests shall have to be carried out for ideal trajectories, and the great standing towers that guard over the midway of the bridge have had their foundations laid, all is proceeding at best pace.
The morale is holding, but I worry that if I push them any harder their minds will completely succumb to the whispers some say they hear whilst sleeping in the magma fueled workshops which sit a good 140 levels down from our upper tier halls, down by the recently discovered adamantine vein, I have stopped all smelting, we have more than enough bars for the moment, and the bridge and escarpment walls must be finished by the end of this year, we have too long been unperturbed by any invasions. This brings me to the next difficult decision who to draft into the military so we might clear out some of the underground caverns, as I think the dwarves grow tired of the sun, and would like more time to drink and make merry in the non haunted hall, and perhaps build a zoo to lift their spirits.
The Wardog breeding program is still in it's early stages but I must say they seem the toughest wardogs i've ever seen, all gigantic in stature and some truly remarkable specimens with enormous muscles, once the bridges are done they shall need only the finest guard dogs to stand watch, but all in good time. I grow worried for some of our craftsmen, as admittedly fine pieces of craft they are, why on earth did they take it upon themselves to fashion legendary thongs, one of donkey leather named 'Brightwoods' and the other a giant cave spider silk thong named 'The Siege of Breaching'. As soon as the bridge and low walls are finished and the scaffolding removed, I think its time for a year long lock in, I only hope we find more underground seeds, as everything is derived from plump helmets, our cooks and brewers do wonders, but I crave some better booze.
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Topic: What's going on in your fort? (Read 6100577 times)