Hi! I'm new here, but I've been playing the game for 6 months.
I was in the middle of building an awesome fortress -- the architects were planning four chalk towers above ground each dedicated to a different industry -- we had just finished the west tower, which was happily going about its business of producing an endless supply of lavish meals made of masterfully minced eggs, flour, syrup and cheese -- when disaster struck Tickchambers The Ring Of Cinnamon.
We had made it through the first major winter goblin siege unharmed -- the marksdwarves were getting good at hitting their targets, a well-trained melee squad clad almost entirely in steel -- and the fort seemed impenetrable. The entrance was guarded with a trap-laden sculpture garden -- statues of spiders, snails and other strange beasts hiding among them a couple artifact-quality weapon traps which killed most anything that neared. Somewhere in the caverns below a gigantic sickly cave swallow wandered dangerously, and my military quickly dispatched it -- but not without getting thoroughly coated in some kind of "deadly dust". One by one they began suffocating.
As the militia commander scrambled to appoint new recruits -- never mind about training for now: just pick a weapon, any weapon! -- another goblin seige approached. This time they brought trolls to destroy the statuary, and crossbows to pick the marksdwarves off the walls (we had not quite finished the fortifications atop the eastern walls, and the goblins approached unfortunately from the east), and the fought their way almost to the main entrance, taking down several of the new recruits, who had only ever known a life of hauling barrels. But the militia fought bravely, and the few scattered goblin survivors were beginning to slink away.
Suddenly a human diplomat arrived for the first time. Well, when I say "human diplomat" I mean a diplomat representing the nearby human civilization, a law giver and administrator among those ambitious medium-sized creatures. He was not exactly human himself -- a kind of deity, I suppose -- a thing most dwarves had seen before only in artists' imaginations -- he was an example of that thing called a "wombat brute" which was depicted among the important dwarves' statue gardens striking down various historical elves in battles with terrifying names. Beware his noxious secretions! He approached the fort amid a pulsing cloud of mist that was apparently emerging from one of his mysterious orifices.
The dwarf baron Sibrek had not quite adjusted to his newfound nobility -- he had just suddenly quit his job as manager and bookkeeper, but was setting a few cage traps for old time's sake. The godlike wombat brute approached. Sibrek did not understand what this creature wanted from him, and just quietly went about his business, which took him from place to place in the fort -- pick up a mechanism in the main store room, walk through the dining room to get back upstairs, visit the farm where the cages are kept, go down to the cavern, up to the front entrance, etc. The deity followed him everywhere, farting constantly on everything and everyone. Eventually they sat down together in the baron's throne room, and Sibrek immediately dropped dead from the fumes. The diplomat left unhappy.
Throughout the fortress, other dwarves were also dropping dead, unable to stomach the wombat brute stench. Their families mourned by punching each other, hitting each other with wooden crossbows, and sometimes an axe got involved. Blood spattered the wall of the legendary dining room. The mayor is running around babbling. We can't live like this anymore.
Goodbye, Tickchambers The Ring of Cinnamon. You are beautiful, but unsafe. We're off to start a happier fort in the forest nearby...
Author
Topic: What's going on in your fort? (Read 6195450 times)