Keshanfamthut “Flamehorses” Spring 59
“Histories of Jealousy and Industry”
We only have 47 dwarves. Far too many are doing specialized tasks and now no hauling is getting done. I’ve decreased the number of specialized dwarves to 10.
Miners Jewelburg and Stone, legendary miners.
Woody Wood, legendary carpenter.
Animal Meat, legendary mason.
Hammersmith, an ok smith.
Farmer Mushroom, legendary farmer.
Brewmaster Jaco, an ok brewer/cook.
Super Scribe, the scribe.
Baron Von Quell, combat epistemologist, baron, librarian extraordinaire.
Hun, pesky upstart, holder of most noble positions.
Also 10 wardwarves, led by Senior Facepunc.
Also 26 mooks.
We are having a major clothing crisis. Everyone is naked and depressed. We’re all going to die. Oh, we also have a king named Edem. I’ve renamed him King Olmec for easy identification. We got some major sorting and organization problems going on here. The sober necromancers don’t seem to move slower than the other dwarves and so it doesn’t seem like a problem. I’ve started trying to get the king some quarters and to sort all the junk.
It is now summer.
A human caravan and diplomat has arrived. The trade depot got destroyed in the previous years frakas, so i’ve constructed a new one from gold bars. Maybe they will bring the yarn cloth that moody dwarf needs.
The caravan was lured in by the shiny gold depot then slaughtered. The lawgiver for whatever human nation that was was here to negotiate with us. Senior Facepunc bit him in the torso and shook him around until his limbs came off. This is how dwarves negotiate. They even had some yarn for our moody mook. He made a wood hatch cover with images relating to the dwarves of Flamehorses slaughtering goblins.
I got the clothing under control. Everyone has pigtail socks and trousers, and leather cloaks, and that should keep them for a while.
It is now Autumn
A vile force of goblins has arrived. There’s a lot of em. Oops, archers are mean. The military is dead. I shall reseal the fortress.
Fortress sealing has failed. The goblins are inside. There is only one thing to do.
You’re going down with the rest of us, greenskins.
The siege has been broken. No goblin shall call flamehorses home. No puny human shall drink our ale or visit our tavern. No necromancer shall have our corpses. If us noble dwarves can’t have this fortress, then nobody will. And the world will burn around us.
Born underground;
Grown inside a rocky womb.
The earth is our cradle;
The mountain shall become our tomb.
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Topic: Flamehorses, the luddite fortress (It has begun!) (Read 28169 times)