It's the 300th anniversary of the fortress and the dwarves of Archcrystal get ready for a celebration.
***
Before the 300th annversary.Moldath and Iton waited impatiently for the tricentennial ceremony to begin. Over the last few decades they had settled into middle age without effort or noticable fatigue. In fact, most would say they were just now in their prime having accomplished so much already. They had each been bestowed with titles for their battle prowess which they both delighted in.
They looked at eachother and sighed.
“Doren would have hated a ceremony like this,” said Iton.
“That's why he's not here,” said Moldath.
8 years ago Doren Lashgrooved, the Sheriff of Archcrystal seemed to realize his time was coming to an end. Well into his 150's he began to mutter to himself, withdrawing from society even more than usual. He still carried out his duties with his usual effiency, but his mind seemed disturbed by something – something only he could understand. While they passed by his quarters, dwarves could hear him talking to himself, saying cryptic phrases to no one in particular.
“I can't slip back,” he would whisper. “I can't slip back into the immense design of things.”
The dwarves would pretend not to hear and continue on. He would be seen in the kitchens collecting random items like buckets or cave wheat supposedly furnishing his room as some had suggested. Every so often he would pass by the new library and mutter into his cloak. “The letters and numbers. They mean more. More than we think.”
He would eat alone in the dining hall talking constantly to his feet. “It's the way we survive, the way we exist.”
Most would politely move away.
Despite his ramblings Doren still seemed very focused during drills and demon hunts. But his age was slowing him down. At last, the next year, Doren the sheriff passed away from old age.
He was laid to rest in the glass tower, with his folding wooden chair propped up next to him against the wall.
Moldath and Iton had prepared his funeral – a grand ceremony that Doren would have hated also. They giggled at this. At the same time Etur their militia commander had taken on the role of duchess, after the title had been given to merchant centuries ago. Etur named her own choice for captain of the guard to replace Doren. Ber was a lawful dwarf but not very capable and a poor marksdwarf. The others followed Ber only out of necessisty.
It was not long afterwards that Archcrystal was officially named the mountainhome, despite having the crown for over 200 years already.
The following years were very productive. The farms and hospital were finished.
The Wild Belly, a tavern in the middle of the fortress opened for business. Many marriages were held following it's opening.
It only seemed to attract goblins from the nearby Dark Fortresses who laughably pretended to not be spying, but they were tolerated until a seige came, and then quickly dispatched. The library was also finished even though the dwarves of Archcrystal had no idea how to make books.
The furniture had centuries of writing and pictures on them anyway.
As the population grew, so did the appetites of the dwarves, and it was becoming obvious that the rutherers would not be enough to provide a steady supply of meat. Fortunately, a mate was captured for the two Hydras already in captivity and a breeding program was started.
King Ushrir was starting to show his age as well. He made a habit out of getting drunk and belligerent in the tavern every night. One night he decided to pick a fight. Unfortunately for him, he targeted Moldath. As so often with happy go lucky people, Moldath had quite a temper when provoked, and besides being a deadly opponent in battle, she was not one to care where a challenge came from. The fight was brief.
After exploding the king’s throat with a single punch, she went merrily on her way as if nothing untoward had just happened, and not even Erith the captain of the guard gave even a thought to arresting her. And so ended the reign of Ushrir Dikeguards. Many said he was about to die anyway given his age, but now a problem came about as who to name the next king as Ushrir never fathered any children. It was decided to avoid this problem in the future, and Ingiz Lashkindled was named the new king.
Ingiz was the widower of Asob Boltaction who had the renowned title of birthing the most children in the fortress at 46. Ingiz was almost near the end of his life and the rest of them knew it, but at least he had a line of offspring that could take over the throne. This created another problem however as in dwarven culture it was not simply the eldest child who was the rightful heir, but the most qualified of them, so for the next year great debates were held in the tavern as 46 children played a game of thrones. A year later, Ingiz died, and his son Zan Guildinks at the age of 17 inherited the throne.
It was hoped that he would marry one of his cousins and continue the line.
The 300th anniversary.The anniversary had come and another goblin siege came with it, and once again Moldath and Iton had grinded them into paste. They brushed off bits of bone and brain from their armor as they waited for the celebration to begin.
“I wonder if the new king will be any good,” said Iton waiting her turn to march in the parade.
“I don’t think it matters,” replied Moldath.
“Why? Because you’ll punch that one to death too?”
“He started it,” smiled Moldath.
“What would Doren have said if he were alive, bout you, punchin’ a king to death, hmm?”
“He probably would have made me clean it up.”
“Darn right, he would.”
“Too bad he didn’t have any kids. They might have made a good king.”
“Well, he didn’t. We’ll just have to live with this one.”
The trumpets blared and the procession marched through the halls waving their banners. Moldath and Iton led the way missing the former sheriff. But unbeknownst to them Doren Lashgrooved had made plans that were maturing even now.
The last child of Asob BoltactionFath Ringeddimple was born in the winter of 361, 11 years before the 300th anniversary of Archcrystal. He was the 46th child of Asob Boltaction and Ingiz Lashkindled, and as it turns out the last, as 3 months later Asob died in her sleep.
Fath as a baby continued on seeming to value his independence. There seemed something special about him, bright, clever, with a sharp stare that made him look older than the infant he was. He would wander the halls and smooth slade floors of hell on his own, crawling along without a cry or a whimper.
It was the stare that caught Doren the sheriff’s attention. He knew his time was coming, and he decided he needed to pass on some knowledge. He started by feeding him and bringing him water. When he grew a little older, Doren would talk to him in his room, “I can't slip back. I can't slip back into the immense design of things. My name will come again, but I won't remember. Someone has to drive them. Otherwise everything will fade away.”
He would collect cave wheat and buckets in the kitchen for him so he would have something to eat while he led the drills. Fath would hide in his cloak, and as they passed the library Doren would say, “The letters and numbers. They mean more. More than we think. If you look hard enough you can see them moving. You have to see things for what they are. Then you can direct them. Save them from themselves.”
In the dining hall, Fath would sit under the table while Doren spoke, “It's the way we survive, the way we exist. They need a purpose and an enemy, otherwise the whole thing crumbles. Keep directing, don't stop. If you do, you're just the immense design... of something else.”
The other dwarves of Archcrystal would not know of any of this. They had know idea what Fath would become.
***
I upgraded the fort into 43.05. I'm liking a lot of the new features especially all the marriages. I'll be uploading the save later today, so far I can't get it to not time out because the file is so big even zipped. Next I'll be working on building the tower past the 3 cavern layers.
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Topic: Archcrystal: 500 years in a fortress [SPOILERS] Finished (Read 483506 times)