Another fresh, intrepid band of dwarfs arrived at their new home. They surveyed the site, declared that it was good and named it Bronzedglen. Work began on tunneling while the rest lingered around the wagon.
Then I got a message that one of the dogs had bled to death. Fearing an attack by fearsome wildlife, I quickly brought up the unit screen... and found naught but my settlers and their surviving animals. I wondered if perhaps the dog fell or ate some sort of disagreeable vermin, but could find no evidence of such and went on with my work. Before long, other animals started to die. I finally managed to catch one injured but still alive and it's description showed that all of it's fat was missing. Before long, all the animals except for one sturdy (but now fat-free) horse had succumbed to this mysterious death.
What manner of cursed place is this? Nevermind, hurry up and get the supplies inside!
As the dwarfs labored, stuffing goods into still-unfinished rooms, they too began to fall ill. I examined one of them as he valiantly labored to unload the wagon and I saw that he was melting!
Are we cursed? Is there a plague? Toxic vermin? Have we settled in the former site of a nuclear meltdown?!
Fearing for the future of our dead civilization, I hastily assigned a male and female dwarf to a burrow while the rest continued to unload the wagon. It was slightly too late, though, as the female melted before getting back inside. We had only one other woman in the party so I quickly re-assigned her to the burrow.
The others toiled quickly in the blistering heat/plague/radiation, but by the time the wagon was unloaded and disassembled, only 3 survived. I sent one of the remaining dwarf men on one last mission to retrieve the bodies of their friends that they may be honored, and then sealed up the tunnel, separating us from the accursed surface land.
Since then we have carved out a life underground. We dine upon cakes and pastries and guzzle fine beer, ale, and rum (this civilization had not learned to cultivate plump helmets). The miner and crafter have become a fine young couple, and we hope they will repopulate our lost civilization. We know not why our compatriots and pet died, but occasionally spirits of the dead penetrate our walls and inform us that the surface remains unsafe for dwarven life. We placate them with stone memorials and re-assert our vow never to face the light of day again.
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Topic: What's going on in your fort? (Read 6220273 times)