Fedtreaty, my first fortress that didnt starve to death or fell to an untimely ambush, has now 35 ingame years under its belt and i feel its time to go out in a blaze.
Each and every member of the hold has created an artefact, the merchants trade their entire load against a single randomly selected bin of gold crafts fit to buy a moderatly sized barony.
Today the final member of my first squad, the Geared Furnaces, has named his shield and weapon, his inspiration a sign from Armok himself. There is nothing more to achieve in these lands than cleansing it from the threat from beyond...
Those 10 grim elite veterans that do not care about anything anymore will lead the march on the underworld, each a hundred kills and more, to his name.
10 determined warriors will take up the flanks and 10 hawkeye marksdwarves will provide ranged support and suppressive fire from the back. 10 younger dwarves eager to prove themselves will skirmish inbetween.
One and all are clad in masterwork adamantide mail and plate, wielding masterwork weapons and bolts and the finest spidersilken socks. Sigun herself will spearhead the formation, sheathed head to toe in artefact clothing, the very first steel battleaxe the fortress bought from the mountainhomes so many years ago in her gnarled, scarred hand.
Kingly beds and stockpiles of food are prepared near the gates of hell, a room for a field medic station has been dug and soon i will give the command to break into the final vein of god-metal, and we will see what the legions of doom have to offer.