Are the shroom-folks super small or what ? Dying to mere ravens is a bit underwhelming... 
Tiny bit smaller than dwarves, yah; maxsize 55000 to a dwarf's 60000. More importantly, they're boneless organisms
composed entirely of soft plant tissue-- they break easily, and any damage dealt to their flesh is cumulative and permanent. These guys were never intended for Fortress Mode.
I'm tempted to make some creature tweaks at some point, now I think of it... a healing rate for the mushroom tissue (and a [SCARS] token for good measure!), and maybe a shorter childhood. What say y'all?
Too late for the broken hero.
There is grieving among the shroomfolk. Gently the planter Tecàk carries Darål's remains to a waiting coffin.
There are no bones, in the body of a shroom-- in time, Darål's flesh will crumble away to nothing. For now, he rests.
Life goes on. The caravan rolls by, and a contingent of pack-beasts detaches to make trade.
The hatch is thrown open in reception. Liaison Mistêm scurries ahead to do business with leader Zasit.
A trade-guard follows, swift to defend her charges.
Taking advantage of the brief opening, a few Steelsoil shrooms make haste to gather the surface-logs! Safety and wood: it is as much as the struggling fortress could ask for.
Steelsoil has little to offer the merchants from mountainhome. A few fresh-carved pots are swapped for similar measure of silk, as a show of goodwill.
This done, broker Zasit takes his leave.
Horror in the stockpiles!
Restless and vengeful, the armorer Urir looms ghostly over the corpse of miner Atir's four-year-old child. Atir stands beside, paralyzed by grief.
Having regained her faculties, Atir prepares a memorial for the specter— lest it take another of her sons.
Urir will be remembered as a victim… and as a murderer.
Atir's husband takes it upon himself to raise the slab.
The flesh of Shorast is laid to rest by Darål. Together the two will molder.
Atir descends into the earth, to forget her troubles in labor's rhythm.
Only a little ways down, the stone burns warm at the pick--
So close to the surface!
A capturing chamber is prepared, where the living stone is known to be. Smelters and forges will draw here from the earth's fire.
Up above, a second band of migrants makes itself known.
More relatives of the herbalists!
It's not long before a flock of raven-skeletons sights the procession.
Clad in Darål's old equipment, commander Led is sent into the fray.
Young herbalist Goden, nephew of Led, rushes to join him.
Chaos.
When all is done, and the hatch closes again, eleven new caps may be seen in the fragile safe-dark. Two maimed. None dead.
Most are marked for the military-- the maimed are assigned other labors. The fortress erupts in activity.
A strange peace settles over Steelsoil.
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Topic: Eat your Mushrooms (Read 135284 times)