--------The Chronicles of Trumpetorb, Second Year, 112, as written by Abbess Lithia, mistress of the Wheel of Riddles--------
Chapter Two,
In which death becomes a regular visitor, we introduce ourselves to magma (and comes off a poor second), we vex the spider and prepare for battle.
No time to rest. The fortress is coming along quite well, and everything has proceeded without any bloodshed thus far.
Now, however, comes the most dangerous, terrifying moment in any miner's life. They must puncture the magma chamber, so we can flood the Gullet. Gods keep you safe, lads.
Oh... Oh, no. No, no, no!
The pressure was higher than I thought. Brother Lumber and brother Tambur were... Gods, the molten rock flooded over them. They were killed instantly.
A well crafted figurine of Zengod the Lovely Sun, the deity of healing, crafted by brother Pammak, floats along the surface, as it cracks and breaks apart. He made it for Brother Tambur. Tambur were always particularly close to Zengod. He always carried it with him, tied to his belt, for luck.
I hope our sacrifice was worth it... Two brave miners... I shall order their memorials erected. We must never forget them.
The elven caravan arrives to a town in grief. Well, at least at a certain degree of sadness. I shall have to meet them. The needs of the living must go before the needs of the dead. We have little to offer this early, but the elves provide reliable access to animals.
Sister Vumba includes a figurine of a leech she recently made in the trade. A bit on the nose, but I rather like the idea.
We buy up all their fruit, and purchase a donkey for sacrifice. Hopefully, they will get the picture and bring more animals. I shall have to make plans for that killing floor.
I have begun some work on the hospital. I also chisel out a brief healthcare instruction slablet, giving the very basics.
Mining is on hold. We need another batch, and we only have one pick left.
Luckily, migrants arrive. An awful lot of them. They include a stonecutter and a gem cutter. Most excellent. A paper maker also arrives. I shall set aside a section to get started on our library.
I also ear-mark a few valiant souls for carrying arms. Something a bit more reliable than the Protectors.
A mason also arrives, with his woodcrafter husband. Uncommon, I suppose, but since they likely have no interest in creating more dwarves anyway, I find no reason to disagree.
I also assign one of them to manage the hospital. She has no appropriate skills, but neither does anyone else, and waiting for a proper healer to arrive is not working very well. I suppose she will grow in to it.
I do need to earmark and appoint a provost, to keep the peace. I shall give her constables when we have any handy.
Further, Brother Plogonos does not wish to be the bookkeeper, since he thinks that it will further separate him from becoming chief librarian one day. Very well, I shall elevate one of the new arrivals to accountancy. It is not very hard, and he gets better quarters.
Our temple, the Sombre Sanctuary, is built and ready. Much work remains to be done, but we have at least begun to get somewhere. That hole, the Gullet, is now filled with magma, and we have already pitted a few stray bones in it. No need to hurry, in my mind, they still have two legendary miners to chew on...
On that note, below the Gullet, I shall build a killing floor, so that we can slaughter the sacrifices in situ. I am thinking upright spears.
I also plan to expand into the galleries, left and right. I intend to put in shrines specific to some deities, for more direct worship. Of course, if we were to include every single deity that Creation has yet produced, we would have to carve the entire desert out, I fear...
In the undercroft, our two dead heroes are memorialised for all of history. Memorial slabs are the best we could do for them.
We shall expand it later. We have a few shelves prepared for entombment, but we will need greater tombs as our legacy builds.
What we need at the moment is metal production. We need arms and armour for our warriors, and we need more picks to rebuild our mining force. The trouble is, of course, that we must repeat the old magma trick to fuel the smelters. That will be fun, indeed...
We will also need a pig tail farm, for paper and thread. It is high time we began paper production.
There is a lot to do... I have sketched up my plans for my future quarters, but it will be some time before I can begin work on those. Most of us are still roughing it on the floors, come to think of it... Sod it, add more beds to the list.
Little Brother Skumpo has been seized with a strange mood. He has claimed one of our workshops, and is sketching pictures of quarries, cut gems and stacked leather. I have begun sketching designs for his tomb stone.
Luckily, Sister Haddok promptly has a baby, to address the balance. I do like babies. I ran a maternity home in the mountainhold once.
Help! A were-bear! Stay down, stay down!
Oh. Well. She killed a goose and fled.
That does remind me, we have a lot of starving animals hanging about the place. I shall send them top-side.
Worse is the fire imps spotted swimming in the magma tube. Bother, I need to install a grate, rather quickly... Of course, since none of the stone here seems to be magma-proof, I doubt it is worth the trouble. I shall buy some iron when available, instead.
I did make a spider experiment. I sent someone to collect some old crocodile bones for the Gullet. When the dwarf came into view (and it simply had to be sister Gumpa, our last miner), the spider hopped about on its tree, but seemed unable to close and engage. Suits me perfectly. Kindly stay put while I get some marksdwarves ready, master Eightleg.
What. Oh, Gods. There's... Blood all over the courtyard. Not this, too...
It did not take long to learn what happened. As I feared, Little Brother Skumpo, unable to complete his work, snapped. He lunged at Brother Sleggo, who was passing by, and bit him something fierce. He promptly stoved the toddler's head in. His father, Battle Brother Huggo, saw it happen, joined the frey, and killed him, and Sister Butcha suffered terrible injuries taking him down in the vicious brawl that Skumpo started.
The brawl leaves three dwarves dead. Little Brother Skumpo, Battle Brother Huggo and Brother Sleggo. Sister Butcha, the heroine of the fight, who eliminated both of them, is dying.
I promptly have father and son fed to the Gullet. May the mountain safely digest their cursed flesh...
Damned. Never a seconds peace. Wonderful way to start summer.
Might as well get all the dying over with... Junior miner-brother Hacko! Gather your fortitude! Be brave! Release the magma!
Well. I do not know what I expected.
Seven lives lost, one gained. Not particularly sustainable... Well. Now we effectively have unlimited fuel. Just a few adjustments and our metal industry will be in operation.
Oh, bother! A human caravan, and we have nary a rock trumpet to trade! Thank you, Little Bugger Skumpo, for hogging the workshop all spring! Quick! Throw some baubles together!
We eventually scrape together some emergency crafts, some rough gemstones from the floor, some rock pottery and the damaged clothes of FILTHY MURDERER and FILTHY JUNIOR. For it, I get a pleasant amount of wood and fish. Not the most necessary trade, but I want them to return with more.
Delays, delays... I need a new miner. That library is swiftly becoming an impossible dream.
Luckily, more migrants arrive. Of course, they must be fed and housed, which is becoming a bit of a bother again.
I have also selected a little crevice in the caverns by the entrance to be the Garden of Shame, where we will slab the dwarves too disgraceful to bury on hallowed ground.
Murderer Huggo and his horrid child Skumpo are the first spirits lashed down there. It is more than they deserve, but I will not have that spectral father and son duo wreak havoc in my monastery. I will not give them the satisfaction.
Of course, no sooner have the damned things been placed when one of the new arrivals, sister Ubi, is seized by inspiration, and has commandeered a crafts workshop. She does not, apparently, have what she needs, and is sketching strange pictures. Well, well, well... This time, I am sending her a war hound, as company.
With our magma smelting operations finally underway, we can begin to see to our defences. I have ordered a batch of bronze spears, and ear-marked a few more warrior candidates.
This shall be the first barracks. It is right by the depot, and the stairwell at the back is the only entrance into the caverns. Not a day too soon, for a giant mole recently injured the guard dog. It keeps coming back, and the Protectors does not care one bit to kill it.
We shall raise and equip three squads in total. One that will be on guard duty, another in reserve or for striking out on missions, and some armed dwarves to help the provost in keeping the peace. Maybe even a fourth group, to defend the rear entrance to the mines once that gets built.
Besides the moods business,
and the constant miner deaths, everything is proceeding smoothly. I have also installed the killing floor in the temple. I am quite anxious to test it, in fact. It has been a while.
Oh, bother. I bought an ass from the elves precisely for this, and now I simply cannot find it.
Very well. I shall have to pop out and fetch one of the geese instead. Will only take moment.
--To be continued--
Author
Topic: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery- (Read 2170 times)