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[absimiliard]

The story of Rithdakas can not be understood without knowing the deaths in the past, the despair of the present, and the dreams of the future.  So dear readers, please pardon my conceit, but it must therefore be told in three part vignettes, exploring not just what happens in the now but also why's found only in the past and the hopes and fears of the people involved.


---------------------

In a time before time the Antelopemonster Buriedmenaced the Ungodly Sin thrust up a pillar of slade from the underworld and formed a great fortress, "The Bastion of Ghouls", from which it ruled over the vile "civilization" of The Greatest Tick.

Soon after the Age of Bronze Colussus and Mountain Titan began the dwarves awoke in the earth.  The dwarf Domas Whippedtook then became queen of the Staff of Emancipation, and in the spring founded the fortress of "Claspedrocks" and sent forth a party to found the hillocks of "Dikehaze".  By mid-summer the dwarves were dug in enough to hold games, in which competitors from across the world came.  It is recorded in history that the Autumn of that year was when Buriedmenaced declared war on the dwarves -- what is not written in many places is that his loss in an archery contest enraged him such that he swore to return "with enough bolts to darken your skies".  When he returned he slew every dwarven founder of Claspedrocks before departing for a time, Queen Domas he shot through the skull with a crossbow bolt.

For nine years "the Molten War" raged.  The fortress of "Claspedrocks" and the hillocks of "Dikehaven" would be pillaged nearly two dozen times during the course of the war.  When Buriedmenaced's thirst for vengeance was finally slated The Greatest Tick made peace with the dwarves.  By then there were but four dwarves still alive in "Claspedrocks", who were then slain by the Mountain Titan known as the Whispered Leaves.  Some decades later The Greatest Tick -- engaged in conquest world-wide -- conquered "Dikehaven" and the civilization of the free dwarves ended, though some lived on as slaves in the new pits of Dikehaven.


------------------

From a tattered, leather-bound, journal--

Granite, 125:

I am Datan Satmomuz, and we lucky seven have escaped the slave pits of Dikehaven alive!  I am sad to say the rest of the rebels died in the escape, nobly giving of their lives to buy us time to flee the demon-ruled goblins.  We are so few now, a carpenter, a pair of smiths, a glass-worker, a farmer, and a food-gatherer, oh, and myself -- not quite a doctor.  We were never allowed to touch weapons, but preparing for revolt we learned discipline and from watching the enemy a bit of how the their army works.

As for supplies, we have little.  We filled a wagon with what we could as we fled;  some barrels of alcohol, some of food, a bit of stone, some wood, some homing pigeons from the resistance in Dikehaven, and a few seeds.  We did manage to steal two copper picks and a pair of war-axes however, the prizes of our desperate stocks!

We have travelled far from the pits -- and the nearby necromancers who ally with the Beast.  From the top of a hill I have spotted a confluence of rivers.  If we set up there, in an isolated bend, we might be able to build a defensible position.  I hope that -- thus hidden and fortified -- we may escape the rapacious assaults of former masters.  Perhaps, if we are hard-working and lucky, we can scratch out a life, in well-hidden safety.  In time, if it's safe, we might even send word to the resistance and help more escape.

It is a grim hope, but compared to life in the slave-pits of Dikehaven it burns brighter than any I have ever had!


-----------------------

The early spring sun shone down on a party of seven dwarves, warming them and the world around them as the morning's chill began to vanish.  The dwarves were all standing around the wagon, arguing about what to do.  The leader, a middle-aged dwarf in the dress of a doctor, argued the group was so close to the site that they should just grab everything, disassemble the wagon, and get to it.  The carpenter swore he had enough wood to craft a new axle -- if only they could spare the time to set up a shop for him to work in.

It was then that a middle-aged dwarf stomped up to the wagon and climbed atop it.  His side-burns were clean-shaven, and his very long moustache neatly combed, his beard was long and arranged in double braids.  Vucar Ushulvabok was known to all as a meticulous and very organized man, though perhaps a bit humorless.  He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention, the other dwarves stopped -- a bit surprised as Vucar was not normally a strong voice in any debates.

"My friends, for you are all friends -- if not brothers and sisters after what we have fought through -- hear me, for I have something that must be heard."  Vucar straightened up to his full 4 feet, 3 inches of height.  "Do not let such a minor setback lead us to discord.  Remember the goblins we have fought, and those who gave their lives to help us escape."  A murmur of agreement passed amongst the other six, Vucar let it subside before continuing.  "The Doctor and our carpenter are both right.  We are too close to not continue on immediately, but setting up a shop here will let us build wheelbarrows and bins to move our goods underground faster."

He paused for a moment, "And move faster we must, for there is something you do not know about me."  His chin lifting, voice hardening, Vucar continued, "I am the grandson of Queen Domas, and the rightful heir to the Throne of the Staff of Emancipation."  Shocked exclamations erupted at the news -- the doctor's becoming particularly alarmed as Vucar raised his voice to boom on above the others.  "We shall dig in here, at Rithdakas!  We shall re-found the Staff of Emancipation!  Send forth the messenger pigeons with word to all the dwarves in the world, come here to Rithdakas if you seek freedom for the Dwarven Kingdom is reborn."

At that the doctor's face drained of all color, her eyes widening in fear.  But King Vucar was not yet done.

"We shall dig in, find metal, raise walls, and train.  When The Greatest Tick sends troops to take us -- and they will -- we will destroy them."  Vucar thrust a fist upwards towards the sky and one down to the earth, "Let the sky and earth witness my vow -- I swear to the God Tun that Rithdakas shall not rest until we have freed every dwarf in the Continent of Guarding, after which we shall take the war to The Greatest Tick itself, throw them down," and with a shout," And Slay Buriedmenaced!"

At that even the doctor was overcome ands she joined the rest in enthusiastic cheers.

When they calmed the King added, "Strike the Earth!"

Soon after the seven got to work.

[Bearskie]

Good writing! Keeping an eye on this.

[absimiliard]

It is important, dear reader, to understand the importance of history to the dwarven mind.  Even a small thing, from centuries ago, might be remembered as a story one's great-aunt spoke of hearing from her mother, who was there.  Acts of charity and kindness will be repaid, if possible.  And across all the worlds the depth and ever-lasting nature of a dwarven grudge is mythic -- those who wrong the dwarves are Never forgiven.

-------------------------

In the spring of the First Year of the World the Inky Furnaces of the Staff of Emancipation founded Dikehaze.  In early autumn of year 2 the Antelopemonster Buriedmenaced led The Greatest Tick in the first assault on Dikehaze.  The new queen -- who had survived a duel with the mountain titan Whiskered Leaves -- and her general, Shorast Tongstowns, led a force to meet The Greatest Tick in battle and defend Dikehaze.

In early autumn of Year 2 The Greatest Tick defeated Dikehaze and pillaged it for the first time.

In early autumn of Year 2 the dwarf eruth Cloutgear became the first King of the Staff of Emancipation.

-------------------------

1 Galena:

It's been several months, and we've made good progress.  The world continues to burn around us however.  I am not ungrateful to the humans and elves for their war -- without it distracting the goblins with the prospect of an easy conquest we never would have escaped the slave pits.  But I wish they would stop now that we are away, if the mortal races of the Guarded Continent can not unite The Beast shall surely overcome us all.

Our settlement has progressed.  The old wagon that bore us here is no more, and all our supplies are now belowground.  We've nearly finished an initial storeroom surrounded by workrooms, and below a dining hall -- and office for myself -- with some farms and a pen for the peahens.  I've ordered all the turkeys slaughtered, and made some soap myself while setting the rest of the remains loose to the cook.  But we're out of stone, and we've hit a barrier to digging further down -- an aquifer.  Given the river nearby I suppose I'm not surprised.  I've ordered Alath get to work on a pair of glass pipes and corkscrews, we'll need those for pumps and she always puts out well-crafted items.

Once we've broken through the aquifer I'm sure we'll find the stone and plenty of metals to work.  If the King wants us to stand up in the world I worry we'll need precious things to trade for weapons and troops or we'll surely be doomed when The Beast comes for us.

-------------------------

Datan limped into the room, her lips pursed at the old and familiar pain.  Her shins had been shattered by the Overseers when she was young and her right foot and left leg had never healed well -- you could see a visible bend where it hadn't healed straight.  "I've no idea what Alath was thinking, she calls it ..."  She had no chance to continue as -- at the sight of the emerald green scepter in her hands King Vucar Ushulvabok interrupted, "Lertethtashem! ...," his voice was low, and awed.

Vucar took the scepter from Datan to examine it.  The craftdwarfship was excellent, as he had expected.  "The original Emerald Staff, which my grandmother bore into this world, was just such a scepter.  It was adorned with bands of gold and hanging rings of emerald, and bore an image the Scrolls of Law."  Datan nodded, understanding better now what Alath had been obsessively working on for the past week.  "She had to use green glass instead of emerald of course, and she must never have seen any images of the Scrolls because that is clearly an image of 'Exploring the Human.'"

Datan shuddered, interrupting the king, her scratchy voice thick with repulsion, "That text is vile.  All the goblins use it as an introductory text on anatomy, and the necromancer who wrote it was quite detailed.  But the rituals within ...," she stopped with a guttural sound indicating disgust.  Vucar spat on the floor in disgust, before brightening, and continuing.  "No matter, she didn't write it's name on the scepter, and it is a magnificent reproduction!  Until we reclaim the original it shall hold it's place in honor."  Datan nodded, "The creative impulse is so valuable."

The king set the scepter down, changing topics.  "I've been rained on today, so annoying."  Datan laughed, not entirely kindly, "You deserve no better since you put yourself in the squad to train.  We all know the militia needs to train above-ground."  Her eyes narrowed, it was not a pretty expression, "You know I think it's a mistake.  You're too valuable to risk in battle."

Vucar raised a hand, palm up, and Datan stopped.  "I won't ask others to take risks I won't.  Besides, when Buriedmenaced comes everyone will need to fight.  There is no one -- not even a half-crippled, old, doctor, like yourself, who is excepted.  Everyone in Rithdakas fights.  Everyone."

Datan sighed, and nodded.  "I just worry so much.  So many things can ... no ... WILL go wrong.  Let's move on?"  Vucar nodded.  Datan shrugged, then continued, "I know, you're the King.  Oh, why the Inky Furnaces?  That's been bugging me all day today."

Vucar grinned, "You're not wrong, I AM the King."  He then sobered a bit, "But don't underestimate how much you do.  Of all of us only you ever had any experience in administration.  Without you nothing would pull together and it would all fall apart."  He paused a moment, "Seriously Datan, we all appreciate it.  I appreciate it."

Then, rising and heading to the door, Vucar looked over his shoulder and answered Datan's question as walked.  "The Inky Furnaces was the name of the squad of soldiers my grandmother sent out to found Dikehaven.  For all it's evils Dikehaven was once a good place.  When we reclaim it I intend to lead the Inky Furnaces into battle myself, and once we cleanse all goblins from Dikehaven they shall rebuild it."  He stopped at the door, turning, face grim, voice rich with hate, "Never Forget."

Equally grim Datan replied, "Never Forgive."

[absimiliard]

Good writing! Keeping an eye on this.

Thanks so much!  I'm afraid I've a few episodes to get through before I'm current though.  I want to do this mostly as it happens, but I got to my second summer before I really had the idea crystalized well enough to start writing, and then I needed an account here so that took a day.

Hopefully I should get caught up early this week.  Then we'll see where it all goes.

[absimiliard]

It is important when attempting to put down a true history of things to consider several important things neophytes to the discipline may not consider.  First, and most obviously -- to the degree that it is nearly not worth mention -- one must always consider the possible bias of ones sources.  A host of other concerns then follow, leading inevitably to the one I wish to address now.  Never forget dear reader that history is ongoing.  The temptation to consider ourselves to be at the end of history is so tempting as to be nearly irresistible.  Lifetimes ... alive, have taught me otherwise.  History never ends, but endlessly continues.  History cares not for the individual, and will cruelly strike them down without care.  Never forget that History does not end.

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In the early autumn of Year 125 The Trampled Council defeated the Nightmare of Tornados seizing control of Tickridges from The Greatest Tick.  The new -- human -- government was called the Fellowship of Mortifying.  In response The Greatest Tick declared war on the elves of the Snarl of Polishing.  Through the autumn a series of raids enveloped all three races as forces of three to ten contested each other in surprise attacks across a host of settlements -- though many were inconsequential affairs with only minor injuries and no losses before the raiders would disengage.


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High in the sky above Rithdakas the sun peeked out from behind a cloud to shine down, approvingly, on a middle-aged dwarf making his way warily towards the small settlement at the bend in the river.

Kosoth Mosusendok was called "Roomattic" because from his birth in 49 he'd lived in a tiny room in the attic.  Early on it had been because space was tight and defenses critical.  After the conquest it had been because he hid there long enough to avoid the slave pits initial ... "staffing", and because once the goblin family found him he provided them amusement and service, for a time.  In the end he ended up in the pits, of course, like every dwarf, but the name stuck.  Now he looked in wonder at the scene before him as he walked, for once not skulking behind bushes, openly towards them.

A small stone wall, with a drawbridge at it's front, enclosed a staircase downwards.  Near it were a pair of plum trees, and a walnut tree.  There were wood logs stacked in stockpiles.  There was a butchery, tanner, and a kitchen, all made from stone blocks.  He could see peacocks wandering the spaces between the trees, between him and the dwarves, at which moment one caught sight of him and set up a raucous noise as he approached.  It was then that he noticed several dwarves, and it looked like they were practicing ... with weapons!  Dwarves!

He jumped as a voice from above called down to him, only then noticing a step-ladder leading up into the tree where a neatly bearded man with a very long moustache was addressing him.  "You'll be wanting to find Datan, she'll be somewhere below, stumping about.  Can't say you look well, been long since you slept or ate?"  Kosoth wearily shrugged, "A few days.  Can't sleep on the run.  Goblin slave-hunters are always on the lookout for runaways."  Another, equally weary shrug, "Can't say as I couldn't use a drink either, food might not hurt either."  The man above him nodded in sympathy, a grim smile on his pale chestnut, broad-nosed, face.  "We'll get you set, head on in.  Sorry it's not better than it is, but we're digging in and making it better every day."  Kosoth nodded, smiling for the first time in what seemed like days.  "That," he paused, "sounds real good."

Down the stairs amazement awaited him.  A vast room -- easily wide enough to fit 9 dwarves standing side by side -- filled with stockpiles of barrels, bars of charcoal, and food everywhere.  The smell of alcohol was intoxicating, he reached for an open barrel of dwarven ale with both hands, thirsty like he'd never felt, only to be stopped.  After arresting his dive for drink the young woman -- with pale green eyes, chestnut skin, and well trimmed hair -- offered him with a mug of something ... glittery.  "Not sure what 'rose-gold' is, but here we made it into some mugs, so you don't have to drink with your hands like the goblins command."  As Kosoth drank she explained how things worked in the settlement, and how he -- as a weaponsmith -- could contribute.  It was then he caught sight of a face he knew;  a young smith he'd trained years ago.  Vucar Regunal raced over to greet him enthusiastically, telling all nearby about how Kosoth was really quite a bit better than he let on, "... a high master of the craft really."

A dour cough interrupted Vucar, who quieted immediately.  A lamed woman in the dress of a doctor approached, he knew her too.  "Datan Satmomuz."  His voice was bitter.  "Still the quisling servant of the goblins?"  The woman spat on the ground at his words, "Bastards.  Never.  Every step I took I betrayed them to the Resistance.  In the end we seven made it out, with The King."  At that a murmur swept around the drinking hall, even his old apprentice Vucar clearly supporting the older woman.  He sighed, and gave up, "Then I've been wrong all these years about all the dead.  I'm sorry."  Datan nodded, "No matter now.  You're here, and in Rithdakas the King has decreed we are all free dwarves.  We shall stand here and fight, until we die.  Speaking of which you look like hell, when did you sleep last?"

As he answered the woman led him off, limping as she went, toward a door on one side of the circular room dug out the dirt.  "Here, get some sleep."  She opened the door to reveal another wonder ... a room with beds.  With an entirely humorless chuckle Datan noticed his reaction, "Yup, beds.  We're free dwarves.  Here we get to sleep in beds, like the goblins."

With a feeling of awe at the concept of a room with nearly TEN beds in it -- for dwarves -- he crept towards one.  Then, when Datan nodded approval he collapsed on the nearest bed and passed out in blissful sleep.

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23 Limestone

A caravan arrived a week ago from the Resistance.  It wasn't much, in truth nothing more than some wandering traders bearing letters, but it makes me worry that too many people know about us.  I know the King wants to send copies of the Emerald Staff out to rouse the dwarves and draw them to us -- but I can not but fear what will come when The Beast hears of our survival, and that a son of Royal lineage survives.

We got another runner today, with the weaver that came in yesterday that makes nine of us!  It turns out Regunal knows him, says he's the high-master swordsmith who trained him.  That is incredibly good news, as two days ago we broke through the aquifer and began to dig down.  After sever levels of mudstone we found ore!  Limonite might not be the gold or silver I'd hoped for, to hire mercenaries with, but Vucar says it's even better and that true wealth is measured in steel, not in those soft metals, no matter how pretty.  We traded for several bars of metal, but Vucar refuses to mint coins for trade with them, saying his coins shall be of iron and steel as those are the only metals of any worth.  He ordered both bars of gold made into goblets to drink from, he won't even trade them.  At least I'm not drinking with my hands any more.

Our miner's attempts to dig under the river failed entirely.  It's damp soil all the way down to the aquifer.  I'm working the plans for a bridge over the river.  If we can bridge that river the road on the other side will give caravans from both other mortal races the chance to visit, and we can use any help we can get.  We'll use the tunnel to set up some new rooms, and over the aquifer some wells, if we're going to keep training troops I'm going to need a hospital -- and sooner is better than not soon enough.

I need to make plans to move our workshops out of the upper levels.  It's not safe so close to the surface.  We must dig out deeper caves, in stone, and there we shall make our halls for workers.  I'll have them carve out some more suitable quarters for Vucar as well, a king ought not sleep in the dormitory with the rest of us.  And I still need to get him out of gathering fruit on the surface, and drilling with the troops.

How am I to keep a King alive who insists on leading his men and women in battle, and refuses to give up any of the labors his people now can do in his place?

[absimiliard]

It would appear Dear Reader that the most remarkable of things is occurring, a birth unlike any before!  I do not understand this new thing the free dwarves have made, they call it Art and they place it on these items dripping magical power like water from an aquifer -- which they call artifacts.  The "art" is like unto writing in that it depicts real, and perhaps even imaginary, things -- but how it does so ....   As for the artifacts, I have never even heard of their like, when the dwarves made the copy of the Emerald Scepter there was my beloved "Exploring the Human" -- and so clearly my scroll!   And now ... a Second "artifact", with more "art"!

I must go write a treatise on it!  Your pardon dear reader, I must cut this discourse short.

------------------

The Staff of Emancipation was a dwarven civilization from a past universe.  On arrival they dug in, and then held a festival to celebrate their survival.

In mid-spring of 1 the Staff of Emancipation held a recital of the Poetry of Laces as the opening of the Festival of Channels.  The Festival included a foot-race, a crossbow throwing competition, story-telling, perfomances of dancing, and of greatest import an archery contest.  The dwarf Thikut Pulleywood won the crossbow throwing competition, the dwarf Rith Wadedtheaters won the foot-race, and the dwarf Queen Domus Whippedtook won the archery competition.

Before winter every winner was dead, and all dwarves besieged.

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Late Obsidian:

I appear to have lost track of the date, I think it's the 24th, but it could be the 23rd.  Hopefully the next caravan can help me, I need to set up a calendar for the fort.  We are becoming a fort as well, more migrants have arrived and we are now up to 21 free dwarves.  Vucar hasn't yet assigned any of the newcomers to squads though, there's too much work to do to even let the Inky Furnaces train like they should be.

We've begun digging out the limonite vein, it travels fairly substantially vertically and horizontally -- but, thankfully, never comes close to the aquifer above it.  I've seen the results of caving floods, drowned bodies and the injured from being washed into things by an unstoppable wave of water.  I've ordered a mason's shop set up down below, and anyone with spare time can go make rock blocks there -- we need a real wall above-ground, not the tiny thing we have now.  We're also digging out a large complex of halls.  Once it's done I'll have us move all the workshops down into proper stone, no more of this living in dirt.  Aboveground our axes stay well-active, we are chopping every tree near the fort down.  There shall be no elves or goblin archers hiding in trees -- besides, our forges and smelters desperately need more charcoal, there is never enough.

Rithdakas is full of new life as well.  We've had our first hatching, which I immediately caged -- peachicks are fluffy cuteness personified but they get underfoot constantly.  Only one kitten survived the birth, but we've two new puppies in "The Scrapes" -- what most of are calling the dirt rooms just beneath the surface now.  I'm hoping it presages a good spring, but I fear what we'll get is elven raiders and were-creatures.

------------------

Rovod looked over his mug -- some kind of metal he'd never seen before, but it was pretty enough -- at Alath Dodokistbar.  She was one of the original seven, a lucky number, and looked very pleased in her new leather cloak.  She kept her head fairly clean-shaven, and he thought the dark mahogany of her hair framed her face quite nicely.  They'd been talking about how his recent masterwork had fulfilled his dreams.

"But it wasn't my dream, not really," Alath said.  "I respect good craftdwarfship, as we all should, but what I really want is to raise a family, not to be famous for making Lertethtashem -- a green glass scepter."  She looked a bit sheepish as she admitted, "Vucar says it isn't even the real Scrolls of Law, though he says it is A scroll, so I got that right at least."

Rovod's brow furrowed in thought, he ran his hand over his head, a nervous tic when he thought hard.  "I'm not a very good thinker, but I think what you made must have been something you saw.  The earring I made has two images on it, both from something when I was younger.  It was back in 110, some of us were on the run and the narrow man mate Alu was guarding us.  But the elves, were at war with them at the time.  Icemi Fancypanties -- or somesuch dumb elf-name -- killed him in a duel, then ignored us dwarves entirely as beneath his notice.  Arrogant bastard."

Rovod and Alath both spat on the floor in disgust.

Alath tapped the table to get Rovod's attention, "About that earring, why did you make an earring?"  Rovod thought about it for a while, taking a sip of wine from a rose-gold goblet before answering.  "I guess it's because Doc's been going on for so long about having nothing to trade.  I hear the King is planning on holding a Festival this spring, to celebrate our survival -- some competitions, poetry, stuff like that.  I thought maybe we could trade the earring to the elves, I hate that fancy-panties bastard -- he killed a damn good man who was helping us escape, but maybe they'll trade some good stuff for it.  I'm sure they think it's some 'Heroes Tale' or ... well, seemed like a good idea at the time."  He shrugged, "Couldn't really think straight at the time, my head was kind of muddled."

Alath nodded, "Yeah, I get that.  But there's still one thing I don't understand.  If you made it to trade to the elves why'd you make it from wood?"

Rovod shook his head in confusion, "Huh?  What do you mean?  Elves love wood.  Everyone knows that."

[absimiliard]

It is important to recall that even in the midst of momentous events the mundane is never lost.  During a great siege women still give birth.  Despite armies marching between settlements crops still get grown.  No matter the Great And Glorious, wild animals still hunt, and feed.
------------------

In mid-spring of 5 dingoes attacked the stocks at Dikehaven.  They devoured several peahens, cavvies, a rabbit, and two cats. 

In the mid-autumn of 12 a bronze earring was stolen from Dikehaven. 

In 22 a magpie-woman emigrated to Dikehaven and became a farmer. 

In 27 the child Tirist Worthyfloor was abducted by a goblin, Dikehaven mourned.  By 35 Tirist escaped and returned to Dikehaven, as a pedlar.

------------------

23 Galena:

Dear Gods, how can spring, and now summer, come and have gone so quickly?  We have barely finished digging out the halls for craftsmen below -- some workshops are still working hard up in The Scrapes.  The work on the Limonite vein progresses, we've more iron now than I've ever seen in my life, though Kosoth says it isn't much of a stock at all compared to what we'll need.  But still, no flux stone.  I wanted to stop digging, build defenses, but Vucar is constantly pushing for more exploratory mining.  He has the main staircase going down and down, unceasingly.  He says that until we can make steel we can not be safe.

The Festival went well, we didn't offend the Gods and invite disaster on ourselves, and the elves who came brought some animals and foods we traded glass-works for.  I've claimed one of the halls for our King, though mudstone isn't really what I'd like to have for him it is better than dirt.  Production on goods for it is begun.

We broke through into some caverns, which I immediately had walled off.  As a result we've been plagued ever since by a never-ending stream of humans -- and even a goblin -- who are seeking to slay monsters in the caves below.  Vucar has refused each one, like myself he feels that only dwarves should be allowed down into the stones -- they are the bones of the earth, and ours by birthright.  The most recent petitioner troubles me, she is the Lady Consort of one of the human kingdoms, I fear they might take offense when Vucar refuses her pleas, and refuse her he shall.

Of all things this is the best however:  a mass of escapees from Dikehaven arrived!  The Resistance managed to free nearly two dozen from the pits, and we are now 53 souls strong at Rithdakas!  We now have walls about our farms and shops and training areas above, and a massive gate at our entrance -- with a second, smaller and walled off, entrance leading across the river to the trade-road. 

Vucar and I will be going over rosters this evening after dinner to set up four new squads and put almost everyone into the militia for immediate training.  He has decided some nobles must, due to the needs of the job, be exempted from military service -- my nearly missing a chance to trade with the elves due to archery training convinced him that Ubbul Rithstizash -- a recent arrival -- was a better choice for broker.  I have since managed to convince him to let me train a new manager, and book-keeper.  I have mixed feelings about this last bit, but I truly am grateful -- Atir Idenkeskal may not be as good at diagnoses as I am, but he is an excellent doctor in every other respect and it was at my own insistence that Vucar named him our new Chief Medic.

------------------

Rovod Zonarros walked down the stairs as he shifted his pick from one shoulder to the other.  Despite being a wood-crafter by training, and now a near-supernaturally-skilled one, he had always enjoyed mining.  The King's policy of having as many picks available as possible and letting every dwarf dig suited him just fine.  He was looking forward to the chance to do some digging alongside Alath as well, as the only two to have successfully crafted artifacts they shared a bond.

He passed a dwarf babbling madly on his way down.  It was a shame, the leatherworker had been the first escapee to arrive at Rithdakas, but they hadn't had the kind of leather he'd needed.  Rovod wasn't sure these "strange moods" were really a good thing after he saw how frustration drove the other dwarf mad.

Soon he heard the rhythmic sounds of pick-axes striking stone from down below.  As he descended a bit more he heard the mining songs the dwarves sung as they worked, the picks striking providing a never-ending beat.  He joined in as he stepped up to the rock face to take his place, "... been told, a big-legged dorf ain't got no soul.   I don't know, but I been told ...," the song continued for a time-less time as three dwarves mined together.  The work soothed Rovod's worries, alongside Alath, and a broad-backed third dwarf, he felt like part of the team, a cog in a Great Machine.  The world, his concerns, time itself, all seemed to slip away as he became part of the team.

Eventually the three stopped for a break, each pulling the cloths wound around their faces to keep them from breathing too much dust away.  With a shock Rovod recognized the very long mustachioed face before him, "Your Majesty!"  He started a bow, before King Vucar stopped him.

"I hate that, bowing and scraping.  It reminds me of an unpleasant past.  Here, now, I'm just a dwarf with a pick, and a place on the team."  Rovod and Alath both nodded, they understood that drive well.  A thoughtful look on his face Vucar continued, "But I think perhaps we should set aside all of our old ways.  The bowing was at the goblin's commands.  I do not wish to be anything like them."  His brow furrowed, lips tightening in a look that Alath was beginning to realize meant the King was coming to difficult decision, but was increasingly sure of the rightness of it.

Vucar took a swig from the rock pot of ale set nearby, then picked his pick up once more.  "Alath, you're off-shift soon, set the pick down and head up-top to the mine-head.  I have two messages for you to bring to Datan.  The first is my Royal Command;  No more shall dwarves act as slaves, and I wish us to do our best to forget the horrors from which we came and instead focus on our future, as free dwarves.  No bowing, no whippings, and no more beatings -- criminals will be imprisoned as a lesson, then returned to society, even our worst we shall treat better than the goblins treated our best.  The second message is much shorter."  With a grin splitting his face he pointed down at a corner of the stairs being carved out of the gneiss.

Rovod looked closer, "It does look different, I think."  He knew he was neither the smartest dwarf nor the most knowledgeable with stones -- he worked in wood after all.  But Alath's gasp meant she saw something there.  Vucar laughed, for the first time Rovod could remember it sounded like a happy sound, Vucar could be a bit grim.

The King spoke, "Tell Datan we just struck marble.  Tomorrow, and forever more, the smelters in Rithdakas shall begin work on Steel!"

[absimiliard]

And with that, I'm current!!!!  I can play again!!  *wipes brow*

I'm trying to be very strict about sticking to game events, but I am definitely building a narrative story around them.  It's been fun so far, hopefully folks enjoy it.

Here's some "state of the fort now" shots.  We're actually wee bit beyond just hitting marble, I've got a few steel helms made and daily production of steel in my orders.  I'll show you the surface, and both levels of The Scrapes, and then a shot of The Halls down below as we're moving in.  I do organic workshops, so there's always stuff like a mason's shop on-site where I'm mining, I'll decline to screen-shot those.

https://imgur.com/a/P0KYnKB

{edit:  If someone can tell me how to embed an imgur link rather than having it an external thing you have to click I'd greatly appreciate it, thx.}

[Bearskie]

Get the direct image links for each imgur image (right click > open in new tab) and enclose them in BBcode image tags:

Code: [Select]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/DyUaWB3.jpg[/img]

[absimiliard]

Thanks!

So, if I get this right, we have ..

The aboveground walls, with a bit of farming, my training areas, the depot and it's double-bridge based "airlock" over the river, and a couple shops.  I love having two plum trees and a walnut inside the fort's walls, very convenient fruit and nuts.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The first and second layers of "The Scrapes".  I've done some cleanup since, and most of the workshops are gone from the first level, I've also cleared away most of the clutter and moved chairs and tables to the side to give myself room for a tavern dance-floor.  The rooms on the northeast of the second level down are my hospital, small, but fully stocked, and with two wells.  Eventually most of the rooms will be let out to permanent residents, I hope.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Finally there are my "Halls".  I intended to put all my crafting in here, but I felt the need to add a basic throne room, bedroom, and I'll put a burial site on the upper most room.  The north-east I have turned into a temple, and the other wings I have now fully filled with every workshop, a few with duplicates.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

My access to flux stone is far below the Halls, and the limonite vein lies between the Halls and the Scrapes.  Moving forward I've a bunch to do here, but eventually I'll build a "final" fort somewhere new -- behind a fully fortified approach, with no back-doors.

[absimiliard]

I must constantly remind myself these days that just because history is dominated by ancient figures from the dawn of the world it does not follow that new things can not change the world forever.

The artifact Melbil Sazirushat finished this autumn is one such thing.  To normal eyes it appears to be merely a hatch-cover, acting like a doorway but for stairs and ramps.  To enlightened eyes the magic in the object is manifest.  The image of one of the founders of Rithdakas on it moves as it labors.  My calculations show the item itself is indestructible.  Set in place it provides Rithdakas an impenetrable defense.  For the new dwarven kingdom that will be critical

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In the early autumn of 126 astridsalir Orshet Cenath, "Blossomadores the Creation of Adventures" was created in Bellscolor by the dwarf Melbil Sazirushat.

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28 Timber:

At the King's insistence we have dug out a prison, and furnished it suitably.  Vucar insisted on naming me Captain of the Guard, saying he could trust me not to beat a man to death that could be chained and rehabilitated.  I am still bitter, for we argued hard.  A kobold thief made off with some things, but we caught her.  She bit me in the fight, and stabbed me.  Atir bound my wounds well, but ever since I have been running a fever I can not shake.  It was a good fight, I'm having a slab erected, and her body tossed in a pit near the trade-road -- as a warning to any more of what they'll get if they come here.

The caravan this year was small, they could only send two dwarves with pack-animals.  There was also a dwarf claiming to be a liaison to the Resistance, but he is unfamiliar to me and I worry he may be a spy.

The Halls have expanded, all our shops are there now.  Vucar has also moved the beds from the early dormitory so each crafter can sleep near their work -- all the dwarves seem happier with this arrangement, and each Hall is taking some pride in their own identity;  Stonehall and Woodhall already have a rivalry going.  The Halls now consist of our Temple, the King's Dining Hall, the King's Throne Hall, and five CraftHalls.  I have emptied out some rooms in The Scrapes and had dug a new large room to found a library, and we expanded the tavern's main hall slightly to allow a larger dance-floor.  Ubbul Rithstizash, our broker, won the mayoral election King Vucar declared when we grew large enough, and I now have rooms for him set.  It is hectic, and chaotic, and I really must have our manager regularize the labor schedules better.

Vucar has still not appointed the rest of the militia captains we need to form the squads if everyone is to fight, as he wishes.  I will speak of it with him tomorrow.

Our defenses were tested when a giant appeared over the horizon.  We raised an alarm and recalled everyone below-ground while mustering the Inky Furnaces, now a Royal Guard I guess.  But it was all for naught, the giant was stupid enough to walk up to our walls and was caught in one of the cage-traps with which we line the base of our walls.  There was also a bit of a skirmish when some plump-helmet men tried to hunt one of our dogs, ending in one of them caged as well.  I have yet to decide what to do with either.

This fever worries me.  I can not seem to shake it.

-----------------------

Rovod took off his leather cap to run his hand over his clean shaven head nervously.  Today it was his job to watch at the main gate for migrants and help get them introduced to the fort, and made part of it.  He had never forgotten his own first day, and the wonder with which he saw things then.  But there was so much now to tell them of;  work-schedules, burrow zones and alarms you HAD to obey (if you wanted to live), labors, who did what, even local gossip.

For example:  He and Alath had now been working and drinking together for a bit over a year and were almost more than passing acquaintances, and he could tell newcomers how she and one of the other founders had fallen in love and might soon marry.  He even had hope for 'Doc', who was rumored to have taken a lover -- even if Atir was the new Chief Medical Dwarf everyone still thought of Datan as 'Doc', and probably always would.

There was so much to tell the tall dwarf approaching the gates.  Rovod worried he'd forget something, or maybe everything.

After all just yesterday his wife Rigoth arrived, having escaped from Dikehaven.  Just as amazing, even more so really, was their newborn son Cilob -- now the darling of the entire fortress as it's first free-born dwarf.

He called out, raising his scratchy voice to carry across the distance.  "Hello friend!  Welcome to Rithdakas.  Compared to the pits life here is glorious, you're going to love it, it's work and drink all day long.  I'm so happy!"

[absimiliard]

I am amazed at the audacity!  He has done it.  Vucar, King of the Dwarves, has declared war on the goblins -- admittedly this is merely a formality as all the pits subservient to The Greatest Tick consider themselves at war with the world.  But consider dear reader the implications within the fort.  As of now their King has appointed officers, commanded the creation of a stocked armory, and begun training for war.  As a sign of how serious he is even his nobles have been conscripted -- into a squad commanded by the rawest of Captains.

-----------------------

At the start of winter in 126 the dwarves of Rithdakas, "Bellscolor", began to prepare for war.

-----------------------

1 Moonstone:

It seems the first shall be momentous in many ways.  I'll start with the bad, we lost our first dwarf -- after a long period of madness and thirst Zaneg Logenmozib died last night.  We buried him in the temple this morning.  The personal is that my fever broke last night!  The important is that at the funeral Vucar commanded that Rithdakas was ready to begin to prepare for war.  He ordered the gates raised until spring, and appointed five new Captains to head up squads for the entire settlement.  As he asked I chose mostly random people to start as captains until we know who will suit the job best -- the exception being the mother of our newest dwarf, I think appointing her a captain will do well for the morale of the entire fort.

I have much to do in the meantime.  I must speak with out book-keeper and manager about regularizing and increasing steel production.  We'll need fifty more steel helms immediately, and we need to start producing weapons daily.  I fear we are no longer brewing or cooking enough as well, and those orders -- along with many others, shall need to be regularized.  I'll have to bring our broker into it as well, our stockpiles need a major re-organization, they're quite the mess.  Thankfully The Scrapes are mostly cleared away and ready now;  the tavern and library both seem to be going well, and our food production in the basement has never slowed, while the crops aboveground are starting to flourish.

I am ordering the breakdown of many of our organic mason's shops and smelters, as unused stock moves away from them their usefulness decreases.  With The Halls filling with shops and beds for working-dorfs I am ordering new stockpiles based on mine-cart dumps to be constructed for their supply.  When spring comes and it is time to put out the new watch-peacocks and prepare for the Festival and the visiting traders we shall be in good order.


-----------------------

Rovod nodded and reached out to take Cilob from his wife.  The baby grabbed on to first his arm, then his chest, fists gripping his clothes like clamps on a wood-crafting bench.  Rigoth stretched, her arms reaching for the sky as she straightened.  His wife was a handsome woman, by any man's standards, and the sight of her always brought him joy.  Yet ... he had to keep trying, "I still don't understand why you have to serve?"

Rigoth snorted in annoyance at her husband.  She took up the wooden scepter hanging from her belt, "The King made me a Militia Captain for the same reason as everyone else, because we all fight.  And I'm getting tired of hearing you complain about it."  Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Rovod, who raised both hands in surrender.  She looked over as the last of her squad appeared -- climbing up through the 'Creation of Adventures' too slowly.  "And it's no dishonor that my squad was understrength, King Vucar even gave me all of his nobles to fill out the squad until more migrants arrive."

As that last of her dwarves struggled up the stairs she frowned even more and muttered under her breath to Rovod, "Even that lazy mayor, and orders to get him into shape."  She reached out, "Here, give me him back.  Not a one of them wrestles worth a damn if they're afraid of hurting him, so I'm a cinch to win every match in practice today."  As he passed the baby over Cilob let go of his father and transferred that iron-strong grip to his mother's clothes.

Rigoth turned towards the group of her new troops, putting a snarl on her face.  "You'd better get your fat arse moving Ubbul," she roared!  "If I catch any of you the King's given me permission to set the pumps up in the courtyard and we'll be pumping ALL WEEK!"  As she bellowed at her men and women she broke into a trot, then a run.  "Now run like I'm that giant, chasing you for my meal.  Run you lazy dwarves!  RUN!!!!"

Rovod watched his wife charge away, roaring like a beast, scattering her squad before her in terror -- a fierce grin plastered across her face.

"I've never seen her so happy," he commented to a very long-moustached dwarf setting a stepladder up against the nearby plum-tree.

"Doc made a good choice with her," King Vucar Ushulbavok the First, Last King of the Free Dwarves, replied -- before climbing up into the plum tree to be sure there weren't any fruit still clinging on as winter began.


-----------

((  OOC, Have some images of the state of the fort:  ))
The main keep aboveground. 

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The first and second levels of The Scrapes:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The Prison, and the main Sorting Stockpile where the broker's throne sits:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

An example of what I mean by "organic workshops", a mason and smelter right where I'm clearing out a vein:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

We then have The Halls, I intend to line all those back walls with beds, let the dorfs sleep where they work, a hard-working dorf is a happy dorf (so long as you keep them drunk of course):

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Finally, here's my work orders, most of these are repeating daily with various conditions limiting them.  I believe in small daily production orders keeping fairly small stocks constantly replenishing.  It takes little attention once in place, but you can't furniture out 50 beds at a time this way, instead you do 2-3 a day for a month and place as you go.  It's not without disadvantages, and you do need to scale orders up as you increase in size.  That's actually MY goal for the winter, to regularize these orders.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[absimiliard]

So I was stalling for a week in the face of writer's block, and now I fear this fort may die to me wanting to try out 4.11 and this having been in whatever version LNB had.  (now that I'm becoming more skilled in my play I'm finding I am preferring to be current, which means vanilla)

If I can figure out a way to get to Rithdakas in the new version I'll probably take this up again.  If not, I left them in a good place and I'm sure they'll be able to repopulate.

On the way out I'll leave everyone with this.


--------------

Ages Dear Reader are defined by the Great and Powerful.  Our epoch has been defined by two great beasts, the Bronze Colossus Lulush Granitecourage, "the Bite of Boulders", and Ted Bearstone, called "the Whiskered Leaves" by the dwarves for reasons I have never understood.  How ought one feel when an Age ends, and a new one begins?  I find myself lacking the experience to, despite over a century alive, describe this.  Perhaps pure facts are required.

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In the late summer of 126 Ted, "the Whiskered Leaves" declared enmity against Rithdakas, "Bellscolor".
In the early Winter of 126 the Mountain Titan Ted, "the Whiskered Leaves", was encased in ice in "Bellscolor".
In the early Winter of 126 the Age of Bronze Colossus and Mountain Titan ended.
In the early Winter of 126 the Epoch of Lulush began.  The Epoch of Lulush was a time when the Bronze Colossus Lulush Granitecourage, "the Bite of Boulders", was the only Great Power in the world.


--------------

7 Moonstone:

For five months we have been besieged now.  It wasn't the goblins, it was "Ted" The Whiskered Leaves -- the very same Mountain Titan who killed so many dwarves at Claspedrocks, and ended the last of our people there.  Ted is a Giant Leech with a thick shell of slate and he spits webs, and he came to kill us all in the late summer, just after the human caravan departed.  As soon as all our men and women were within our walls I ordered the gates raised.  Ted spent some days tracking down each and every watch-peacock we'd set out, on each side of the river, before finally approaching our walls.  The King ordered the release of the giant we'd captured, in the hopes that it would fight Ted, but -- as I'd feared -- the two creatures knew one another and began to patrol outside our walls.

When fall came we managed to open the back gates and allow the caravan from the Resistance in.  The giant was far in the northwest when we did so, but Ted took up the chase.  Thank goodness that leech moves so slow.  By Sandstone the forges and smelters at Rithdakas had shut down, as our supplies of wood ran out.  The king became impatient, and wanted to muster the dwarves, but I counseled him to not raise the siege yet, we are safe in Rithdakas, no matter the surface for now.  At the end of Timber we briefly opened the gates when Ted and the giant were distant and the caravan escaped.

Finally, in Moonstone, the giant left -- leaving the Whiskered Leaves to invest our defensive positions ... alone.  Vucar and I have decided we can no longer remain in hiding.  Tomorrow morning we shall muster the full force of Rithdakas, all eighty of us, in the courtyard and raise the gates.  Dwarven strength shall march forth and -- ill-equipped as we are -- we shall meet the beast that destroyed our civilization in battle and we shall reclaim our honor by killing it, or we shall die trying.

--------------------------------

Rovod looked out over the wall, out to the north east.  Somewhere out there Ted lay in wait.  The sun had not yet risen, and in the dark his vision wasn't as clear as he'd like.  Yet it was good enough that he knew The Whiskered Leaves was still lurking in the murky pool out there.  It was odd, he'd been there all night.  Despite the brisk breeze the water was also oddly unmoving and still -- the effect was uncanny and everyone on watch was on edge.

As the sun rose and his relief arrived Rovod's vision of the surface began to include color, and detail.  As soon as he realized the water had frozen over during the night he called for his Captain.  Soon after the army of Rithdakas mustered in the courtyard, and then marched out to the north east.  There, along with the rest of the squads, he took up a defensive formation around their nobles as they examined the icy pond.  The nobles peered intently, trying to see through the ice.  The King called for an engravers tools and personally worked to smooth the ice to improve the view before calling Datan over.  "I can't see as well as you Doc, I think it's him."

Datan bent over, face tightening in pain.  Then, straightening up -- with a grumbled curse at the pain and inconvenience her injuries caused her -- Datan nodded and confirmed to King Vucar what she saw agreed.  The King raised his hands, called for silence, and spoke.

"Hear me dwarves of Rithdakas, for what I must say needs hearing.  Ted, The Whiskered Leaves is Dead!"  He stopped then, for some time, until the wild cheering of the dwarves at this news began to quiet somewhat.  Raising hands to bring silence again he continued, "I wish it had been our force of arms that defeated this monster -- but I value the lives we did not lose even more.  Be it known that we shall raise a statue in honor of the winter -- let it be of some worthless metal like gold or platinum, and it shall depict Ted, dying, and winter itself -- as a Great General -- laughing."  The king continued on for some time.

Later, when the formation dispersed, Rovod and Rigoth stood near the smoothed section of ice.  "I can't believe it," Rigoth said, "he's really gone.  After all this time."  Rovod nodded, wrapped an arm around his wife and hugged her.  "He is," he agreed, voice scratchy with emotion, "our ancestors are avenged, even if not by us, and now ... we're free of him forever."