In the year 1050, in the world of Tar Oru, the dwarven king Reg Urvadilir sat on his +throne+, his *crown* heavy on his head.
"What ails you, M'lord?"
Reg sighed. His loyal general, Sigun Muzishushat, was never far.
"It's this thrice-cursed regulation of ours, making me stay sober on the day of the new year so that I may put together another expedition. I need my drink, you know."
Sigun nodded. "Well my lord, surely that alone is not too much cause for concern!"
Reg pounded one hand on his +throne+, cracking the obsidian slightly. "Those ever-expanding humans and twice-cursed elves have taken most of the land for their own!* There be no spot I may send our dwarves that they will not get to!"
Sigun was taken aback by the king's fury. "My lord, I believe our scouts have an answer for you. There be a small island in the middle of an inland sea that also has a volcano and aquifer. A group of stout, hardy dwarves would not be hard pressed at all to survive there."
The king grinned. "Aye, that would about do it! Bring me the inventory logs and the population listing, I wish to get back to my drink as soon as I can!"
One week later, the group of seven had been formed, the group Oretekkud. Trudging from the cold, frigid, near Antarctic environs, they quickly found the warmer climes more to their liking. They had nearly arrived at their intended destination, and their woodworker, Asob Torastobul, had yet to answer how they would traverse the sea...
Asob grinned as another tree was felled. "That be ten! All of ye slackers, bring them to the shore and I'll get right to work!"
The other six quickly snapped up the logs and hauled them to the shore. Asob worked and strained, twisting the logs into an unnatural form. Not more than an hour had passed before he stood back, proud of his work. "Now get the wagon and animals on top, I'll finish off the sides and we all can shove off for the island!"
"What be this thing you have made, Asob?" inquired Ducim Inoddolush.
Asob smiled in pride as he began forming the sides to his creation. "It be a simple raft for crossing the seas! With enough logs to take our weight, and walls to keep the waves out, it be a simple matter to float over to any island! Sadly, me master did not tell me how to make them last long enough to repel the rot, so once we land, we may never use it again."
Ducim was agape. "But still, a remarkable creation! We should be there very soon, now!"
A week passed as the tiny raft manuvered around the island, selecting the northern half as a suitable destination for settling. The wagon was unloaded, the raft rotted, and the dwarves climbed to near the peak of the volcano. They were just about to begin, when they realized they'd neglected to check for native inhabitants.
A scream pierced the air as first one, then half a dozen gorillas were spotted.
Life was either going to be very interesting, or very short, for the fortress of Avuzdatan.
Okay guys, two questions.
1. When dwarves build pumps, they automatically put in a desalinizing filter, yes? I'm seen the topic tossed around, but this is a new fort after all.
2. Should I hope for a Jane Goodall or will I be fine without one?
*Seriously, I cut the number of civs in worldgen down by half, and 90% of the world population is human or elven. Tall lanky bastards.
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Topic: What's going on in your fort? (Read 6237189 times)