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[Mobbstar]

Sparked by the release announcement, I picked DF up again and want to make a story out of my latest fortress.  Let's see how long I can keep this up!

(To clarify, this is not a succession fortress and I reserve the right to decline nickname requests or similar.)

Expect the following:

• Periodic posts.  I publish an episode every Monday, even if it is short or just a drawing.
• Atmospheric drawings.  I am not good with brushes, but some simple sketches can go a long way towards conveying a mood or idea.
• Screenshots.  While this isn't a documentary, specific situations may be interesting to capture directly.  (My tileset is a modified version of Kruggsmash's.)
• Music recommendations.  Often, there's a song in mind while writing, or I know lyrics that fit a situation well.
• Unusual gameplay.  Veterans often know Dwarf Fortress too well to be mystified by simple retellings.  To restore some of the wonder, I made custom modifications.
• Out-of-character commentary.  The story will be marked with a distinct font, but if something demands further discussion, I may separately append remarks and replies.  Feel free to comment or send direct-messages!

Spoiler: Chapters thus far (click to show/hide)

• Plunge
• Cold Feet
• One Dwarfs Trash
• Sore Pasts
• Smoky Flavor
• Down the Drain
• Beating a Path
• It Takes a Village
• Foil
• Reckoning
• Alone With Everyone
• Emergence Season
• Second Shift
• Extradition
• Deep Society
• Burden of a Clan
• Superior Schemes
• Finding Rhythm
• Whose Ox
• A Land Before Time
• Spine
• A Taste of Famine
• Before a Storm
• Taken Back
• High Noon
• Break

All chapters are also available on my website and Archive Of Our Own.

While I prepare the first chapter, enjoy this bas-relief from the mountainhome.



It depicts the three kinds of dwarf performing their traditional labors.  Specifically, it consists of an *engraving of a gnome artisan*, an ≡engraving of a heinzel organiser≡, and an +engraving of a troll worker+.  The deep-dwarven words have double meanings behind them.


Also, here is a preview of the main cast, from Chapter 4:

[Mobbstar]

Chapter 1: Plunge

Music Recommendation: Giant Rooks - Mia & Keira (Days To Come)

Terror has shaken people throughout the land this year as news of the so-called Conflict of Clouting spread.  Most of the Clouted Ones are said to have been battered, barely clad in rags and rotten, or entirely skeletal, but some had clearly lived until after the first assault.  The idea of our deceased shuffling and attacking is unprecedented.  Accounts vary between two-hundred and three-hundred bodies, not counting animals, and hundreds more had to flee into the mountainhalls and further through the dangerous caverns.

When our northern brethren defeated the threat at its source, the Lost Abbey, they found morbid rituals and insane writings.  Assuming evil magic, they burned the entire site and its curses down.  But rumors tell of a similar cult somewhere to the south, sympathising with the ancient colossi.

Therefore, our queen Inet most graciously blesses seven trusted peons with the means of establishing an outpost far away from the clan.  It will serve as a checkpoint for scouts and armies.  Furthermore, a yearly caravan will provide additional supplies and accept any discovered resources.

The pioneers are as follows:
- Amöst Akärst, heinzel, 38; former militia captain from the valley, and survivor of the Ochre Colossus' recent rampage in 103
- Bromek Šigun, heinzel, 33; scribe of the Shipdip Library of Wisdom, and author of these histories
- Såksël Rodert, troll, 58; ranger and fighter from the valley, and alleged member of the Harpy Watch
- Ustir Otem, troll, 56; farmer and builder from the valley, and former šöf of the ting of hillocks Whipfout
- Čogon Fiküd, heinzel, 52; architect from the fortress Idmes, and survivor of the war against the blazing demons in 98
- Tosirid Fimšur, troll, 33; carpenter from the fortress Soakedgalley
- Asmël Mîstäm, gnome, 52; former comedian of the fortress Zansongzulban, and survivor of the Golden Colossus' recent rampage in 109

Here is a map I have copied from library records.



109 Ob 02
Preparations for the journey have begun.  Our available funds are as limiting as the capacity of the provided wagons.  We may have to restrict ourselves to craft tools and create the rest on-site using whatever materials we find.

109 Ob 05
The list of supplies has shrunk almost into the bounds of a single wagon, but the grants still do not suffice.  We are looking for ways to earn completive coin before spring comes, as the southern summers are reportedly uncomfortably warm.  Human merchants from the empire generously advised us on these matters, and even shared their map of the region.

109 Ob 13
We are embarking today, assuming an eightday for the journey out of the capital, across the valley, and through the entrancing mountains.  From there on, we will follow the river through the vast Balanced Swamp.

109 Ob 22
The directions given by the humans seem to be not entirely correct.  The river flows roughly southwest, judging from the arc of the sun.  At the next solid ground, we shall assemble a cairn redirecting the caravan along a different landmark.

109 Ob 28
The past days have been rainy, and the already muddy soil became a serious obstacle for our wagon.  We are setting the cairn only now, and hope to correct course in the coming eightday.

In this tiresome weather, we have settled for a group name: The Weary Warriors;  for we are all weary of fighting, weary of looming threats and roving redcaps, weary of politics and inexplicable orders, and most of all, weary of the trampled valley grass and erroded fortress walls.  We care not to pursue dangerous rumors or extract resources all life long.  The rain is glum and the clouds are drab, but none of us had felt this free in a long time.


"Marsh, Polissia" by Ivan Ivanovič Šiškin

110 Gr 04
Čogon had observed the wagon wheels struggling in the mud and suggested wrapping chains around to prevent it from sliding and spinning in place.  Ironic as it may be to seek freedom by applying restraints, we are picking up pace.  Nevertheless, we have yet to find a suitable location for the outpost, ideally beyond the swamp.  The dry land must be close.

110 Gr 12
The dry land is nowhere to be seen, it has been raining again, and a wheel broke.  We cannot lift the wagon to fix the wheel because the soil gives in.  In fact, the cart may be slowly sinking into the watery ground.  We see no choice but to release the horses from their harness and make a shelter here.  Between the puddles and quag are hummocks of safe ground.  Enough trees to almost form a canopy, meaning enough wood to make platforms on those hummocks.  The mood should be dismal, and yet we are jesting and laughing at work.  This month-long journey has let us prove to each other and ourselves what we are capable of.  Here, at Ritharthikthog, the Weary Warriors strike the earth!

[Salmeuk]

and a wheel broke.  We cannot lift the wagon to fix the wheel

many a fortress has started in this manner. "Wheel's broke? Fuck it!"

 Glory to Rìtharthikthog!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

though one cannot help but wonder what strange beasties lurk in the muck. that swamp is large and full of old things, left over from the creation of The Legendary Lands, or so I've heard. Will these Weary Warriors be up to the task?

may I ask what mods you have installed off the top of your head? And did you use DFhack to prepare multiple species during embark? very cool

[brewer bob]

Looks interesting, waiting to see where this goes, so PTW.

Liking the map, too!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Do my eyes deceive me or this that font on the map Papyrus?

[King Zultan]

That's a really nice looking map you've made, PTW.

[Mobbstar]

may I ask what mods you have installed off the top of your head? And did you use DFhack to prepare multiple species during embark? very cool

There are Hornbeetles, Manymancy, and bits of Splints Vanilla Expanded.  Everything else (including the dwarf castes) is unpublished stuff I made at some point or another.  Git says all the creature files, civilisations, language files, plant files, most material and item files, and even the book descriptors are modified.  It would take a while to write a changelog for all that.

I only use dfhack for exporting data and rendering, not for worldgen or actual play.

Do my eyes deceive me or this that font on the map Papyrus?

Correct, it is Papyrus.  I couldn't figure out if and how the SMF engine allows CSS font faces besides the ones in the editor dropdown, else I would've used it for the main text too.  Edit 22-11-14: I've figured it out and set up Gabriola as in-character font, with Papyrus as fallback for devices which do not have Gabriola installed.

[Mobbstar]

Chapter 2: Cold Feet

Music Recommendation: The Smooth Maria - Abandoned Town

110 Gr 17
Nobody told us "wet lands" are soaking to the brim!  We cannot mine through this soil, for water seeps out quicker than buckets could scoop it away.  Much to our dismay, we will have to make do with wooden shelter for now.  At least we found an exotic new kind of clay.  Brick walls may grant us the illusion of an earth home in the future.

We do not know what lurks in the water, and the ground can give in at places.  All wood we cut goes towards securing ground.

110 Gr 26
Several platforms span between the hummocks by now, and the wagon's load has been distributed as to stop it from sinking farther.  It looks as though we have snatched this meal out of the swamp's agonisingly slow maw.  However, there are faster maws which also water in anticipation of our food rations.  Fences may be in order.

A flock of white storks even had the audacity of threatening our cat.  Thankfully, they don't seem particularly keen on fighting dwarves, so they clattered their beaks for a while and left.  They look impressive, each sporting a white front, black wingtips, and amber bill and upper legs.  But with all their elongated body features, Asmël and Såksël are certain they weigh less than size suggests, and even bet on how many they could take in a fight.  While Asmël joked and exaggerated his abilities, Såksël was more factual and drew from actual combat experience.  I also sensed a little pride in her confidence.

110 Sl 15
After weeks of hard work, we have managed to erect a proper hut.  Though crammed, it allows us to stay dry at night and during heavy rain.  This is a very welcomed respite, as the tents have worn down and leaked on us.  Čogon wishes to caulk the roof, using nearby plants in lieu of available materials.  Fellow sure doesn't want any more wet dreams!  Construction isn't as high a priority anymore, so one pair of hands may explore the environment.



110 Sl 22
It has come to my attention that we have become complacent with our stockpiles out in the open and no food sources (besides Såksëls yam pickings) established.  Just now, in the morning mist, an alligator came close.  This is not a livable condition.  We are not allowed to rest our feet on the table yet, first and foremost because we have no table yet.

Our next plan is additional housing, though it serves less for privacy than for space to work in.  Stills don't burn well in the rain.  Besides, we cannot risk the first shed sinking or falling apart without elsewhere to seek refuge.  Spreading weight across the soft soil has proven effective, and we plan to continue this strategy.

110 Fe 01
To honour our solemn agreement with our venerable queen Inet, Ustir begins distilling and I tinker with the other plants.  Exotic spirits and fibers ought to make a worthy tribute for this first year.  The necessary workshops are already half-finished.  To call construction work here easy would be a lie, but I dare say we are getting the hang of it.  The Weary Warriors are taking hold.

[Mobbstar]

Chapter 3: One Dwarfs Trash

Music Recommendation: Georg Danzer - Hupf in Gatsch

110 Fe 05
Drakeling!  Såksël saw a conspicuously lonesome duck flying overhead, presumably unaware it had already been spotted.  Shortly thereafter Asmël screamed, for an alligator waded up to the stockpiles.  Or at least it probably looked like an alligator from above.  Down on the ground, it more closely resembled a caricature of a scaled dog.  Såksël saw right through the disguise and let the rest of us know what was happening.

I almost feel sorry for the deceptive little creature.  It had likely never seen an alligator ward of approaching threats, and clearly had no idea how to react to Såksëls approach.  In a panic, it twisted to an exotic kind of wildcat, hissed, then sprinted away.  Except it wasn't used to that form either, and crashed head-first against the fence.

Asmëls fright had shattered at this display of mischievous ineptitude.  He yelled some rude words and took furious strides towards the dazed invader.  Of course, that struck terror even deeper into its heart.  With a whirl, it became a burning sack.

Tosirid got excited and wanted to look at this spectacle up-close, but Amost held her back.  He also watched Asmël intensely, ready to act.  Despite his claims to consider no-one a friend, Amost sure cares much for our safety.

Spade in hand, Asmël swung at the blazing bag.  However, it was still a drak, and dodged the attack, leaving Asmël off-balance.  Then it scuttled under his feet as he inadvertently plunged into the morass face-first.

Eyes on the prize, the uninvited guest shifted to a tiny dragon and scrambled towards our stocks.  Its quest was once again interrupted by Såksël, who had been stretching in anticipation and ready to protect our hoard all along.  As the two danced around the perimeter, Tosirid followed them around eagerly.  She isn't normally drawn to turmoil.  I believe she just wanted to get a better look at the drakeling.

Angrier than before, Asmël called out for us to "knock that smug half-baked magpie out of the sky" and started throwing sticks like javelins.  The scaled target evaded every projectile, until it almost crashed into Ustir.  She had kept her distance thus far, and was clearly unhappy about the breeze in her hair.  A barrel lid served her as improvised shield as she began dashing away from the perceived threat.

By then, Amost interrupted the barrage of wood, but Asmël still had firey rage in his eyes as he charged towards the persistent thief.  He collided with Tosirid, neither watching their step.  Meanwhile, Ustir found herself close to the stockpiles, and in the flightpath of the drakeling.  In a mutual panic, the faux dragon curled to a hedgehog and the troll launched it away sideways, where its spiny back hit Såksël.  More annoyed than scared, the latter slapped our determined visitor down.

It tried to take flight, but noticed Asmëls approach and turned to a cauldron.  Either it was thoroughly confused by then, or specifically wanted to slide onto his head.  Intentions aside, this was effective at blinding and confusing the gnome.  Amost came to help, but took a wild swing to the left cheek.  There was an uninterrupted stream of profanities accompaning the scene.

When the improvised helm came off, it flattened to a giant earthworm and landed in Tosirids arms.  Then it hopped off as a big toad and earned another cry from Ustir, who kicked the thing straight at Såksël.  She batted it away expertly, though it was shielded by a tortoise shell.

At last, the drakeling reverted to its waterfowl form and fled entirely.  Our parting gift was a parade consisting of a steaming-red gnome, a sparkle-eyed troll, a furrowed-brow heinzel, and a tear-soaked troll.

Čogon and I stood by the entire time and simply enjoyed the show.

[Mobbstar]

Chapter 4: Sore Pasts



I drew the cast based on their in-game descriptions and almost all have "tall ears" and "hanging" or "swinging lobes".  It makes them look quite silly.


110 He 08
Summer has brought less heat than we feared.  However, it made itself apparent by what feels like drought compared to when we had first arrived here.  Should the land continue to dry, our supplies retain enough drink to last us the season.

On the bright side, this is an optimal opportunity to attempt digging through the soaked soil again.  We have found a relatively dry spot nearby and are preparing planks and clay to ward off the water that seeps through the earth there.  With luck, we can secure a shaft before autumn.

110 He 12
We have struck stone at last.  However, Såksël was afraid of digging into it at first, because it is nothing less than an unfractured surface of obsidian.  With Asmëls reassurance, and making sure there are no signs of volcanic activity, she has begun breaking it.

110 He 26
The chipped and rippled obsidian walls seem impermeable.  Pre-historic magma must have cooled and formed a massive bedrock, denying the aquifer any drainage.  This would make the clay here a relic of a bygone age, the first thing to settle afterwards.

110 Ma 09
In the soothing cool of our new cellar, cut into massive volcanic glass, our minds  filled with memories of the mountainhome.  We had never discussed our former lives, or more specifically why we left them behind.

For some, it is nearly obvious.  Amöst voluntarily resigned from the military after failing to protect children from the Ochre Colossus.  Whether his bleak outlook and attachment issues stem from that, or existed beforehand, is anyone's guess.  Asmël was freshly out of an occupation, and riled by the colossi.  I, Bromek, am hoping to fulfill my life goal of making a breakthrough discovery. Tosirid is the only truly innocent one among us.  She is simply curious in general, and undeterred by the meager conditions.

For others, their motivation requires reading between the lines.  Såksël likely joined the Harpy Watch for reputation and a sense of duty, but didn't agree with the hazardous group tasks.  Her "mission" to fortify and rally the south is much more to her liking and suits her survival skills.  Čogon dislikes bustle and company outright, and he probably felt personally offended that his novel ideas to seal the Idmes mines were rejected.  Not to mention the usual fear that blazing demons may resurge someday.

The most puzzling one is Ustir.  Unlike the rest of us, she had been directly addressed in the call for volunteers.  Several folks from Whipfout encouraged her to take the offer.  The mayor even made concessions towards her local legacy, or her contingent return.  The only thing she'd lose is her role as šöf.  As we discussed this, something must've clicked in her mind.  A cruel theory visibly fell into place as her face turned dour and her hands jerked.  She stormed out without a word, and while we cannot be certain what conclusion she had reached, it is clear she does not want to talk about it.

[brewer bob]

That is a glorious piece of art! Got to love those pointed hats!

[Mobbstar]

Chapter 5: Smoky Flavor

Music Recommendation: Sleepy Soul - Stars

110 Ma 14
Fire!  Summer sun has kindled a small blaze in the midst of the swamp, very near the cellar entrance.  We could put it out easily enough, thanks to pools of water that have persisted the heat.  Yet it is an ill omen and we must discover how to protect ourselves against wildfires.

Given the closeness to the dug soil, we have considered that the earth itself may be flammable.  Besides the unusual clay and familiar sandy loam, there is an unknown black sediment.  We had speculated on its origin and composition before.  Såksël shrugged it off as wet loam, and Tosirid compared it to the marshy cob around the entrancing mountains.  But now I believe that it is of organic origin.  Plant matter blackens when decomposing, and naturally burns when dried in the sun.  The stagnant water may be intercepting its decay, entombing it under loam and more plant matter.

Regardless of the theory, we shall test the hypothesis by pressing and drying a glob of the peculiar material.  At the same time, we'll be keeping a close eye on the plants growing around here.  Asmël thinks the large cottongrass may be to blame.

110 Ma 18
The first of Ustirs brews are ready for taste-testing.  Thankfully the dry heat hasn't damaged them too much.  We are most pleased with the beer of the pond grain.  Čogon declined, prefering himself poppy steep.  Chamomille does not grow in this swamp.

We have more barrels than cellar space at this point, so the rest will be stored by setting them in the cool mud.  Retrieving the barrels will be difficult.  Tosirid and I came up with a way to hook and pull them up, and a first practice attempt succeeded with some effort.  Time will tell how well it will work a month later.

110 Ma 24
The fire test was a success.  The black soil truly becomes flammable when dried.  I have earned myself a drink!  But besides the relief, knowing that we aren't in imminent danger of a wildfire, Čogon realised we might be able to use this stuff as fuel.  Given access to stone, we should finally be able to construct a furnace and see how the clay behaves.

Here is to a life-goal of research within reach!

[Mobbstar]

Chapter 6: Down the Drain

Music Recommendation: Queens of the Stone Age - I Appear Missing

110 Ga 05
Såksël complained about the dried meat stocks running low, which prompted Tosirid to worry about our food supply in general.  I proposed that Såksël could hunt if her own harvest is not to her liking.  However, the drought is a legitimate concern, as Asmël quickly pointed out.

We eventually decided to attempt irrigation, with Ustir alone having all the agriculture experience among us.  It doesn't help that Čogon is bedridden.  Perhaps the flowers he had steeped weren't poppy after all.

110 Ga 12
Clearing some trees and ploughing the ground has freed up water, but it dries up quickly under the sun.  Branches and leaves capture and protect the moisture.  While this works with some plants, others are oddly unaffected.

110 Ga 26
Our food shortage has resolved in the worst possible way:  Rain has returned to the land, and raises the groundwater level.  The shaft leading to the cellar has not been protected with proper pitch, which was fine earlier, but now water trickles through the gaps and cracks in the planks.  Ustir does her best to patch them.  I cannot shake the feeling we should have seen this coming and prepared sooner.

110 Li 02
The cellar is rapidly turning into a cistern.  The water is already shank-high.  With joined effort, we should still be able to retrieve our goods and some obsidian, even while morale sinks.

110 Li 04
Determined to make the best of our situation, Čogon has mounted an axle and hanged a bucket over the stair-well.

Guess who has struck the heavy aquifer!

[brewer bob]

Guess who has struck the heavy aquifer!

Oof. That sucks if you weren't expecting one.

[Mobbstar]

Chapter 7: Beating a Path

Music Recommendation: Luv' - Trojan Horse

110 Li 17
A caravan from the mountainhome has arrived, as promised.  Two wagons and eighteen dwarves made the journey.  Apparently, a third wagon and crew had to be left behind, for it got stuck in the soft soil.  We must hurry, or a similar fate awaits the other wagons, considering the rains have already erased most traces of the drought.

The leaders of the caravan are brothers called Id Tholig and Okol Aniš.  They seem more interested in exchanging news and taking fancy show objects than conducting commerce.  On the bright side, they will gladly let me write a copy of these histories for them, to share with the mountainhome.

---

One of the guards, Šërust Nîtok, is skilled at reading the night sky for orientation, and disclosed an enlightening relevation.

When founding this outpost, it appears we had circled around the steppe.  The sun takes a different course this far south, somehow.  Our pace in the second half of the journey must've been faster than we thought, as well.  All in all, we are a few days farther south-west than intended.   The caravan will bring chains for their wheels and plot a corrected course next year, in order to hopefully arrive without losses.

---

Some of the arrivals explained that they intend to stay here, seeing as the bare necessities are established.  They are three young families:
- Rabîl Čatthol, gnome, 23; smith from the fortress Soakedgalley, and guildmember of the Walled Hall
- Dodåk Tuthnol, troll, 18; nun from the fortress Soakedgalley
- Išül, troll, 6; born in the fortress Soakedgalley
- Îgboth, heinzel, 3; born in the fortress Soakedgalley
- Üsën Zadëg, troll, 23; doctor of the town Moblab
- Båb Solåth, gnome, 20; laborer from the town Moblab
- Detam, troll, 3; born in the town Moblab
- Darikon Logmir, gnome, 24; weaponsmith from the fortress Stukdîshmab, member of "the new guild", and creator of Mournful Thunder
- Mattöl Geniš, troll, 27; mason from the fortress Stukdîshmab

There are many open questions regarding each of these people, which would undoubtedly reveal why they seek out a flash-new settlement, but there is no time to enquire yet.

---

Asmël has finished haggling with the merchant brothers.  We enjoy a fresh supply of clothes, mushrooms and camomille, and a dog to alert us of thieving animals.  There is enough vellum for me to keep writing histories.

The Weary Warriors, including new fellows, are equipped for winter.

[Mobbstar]

Chapter 8: It Takes a Village

Music Recommendation: Marlon Roudette - New Age

110 Li 18
We have had disagreements over how to share our limited sleeping space.  The general sentiment is that we must construct more buildings.  Given the problems we have come to expect in this terrain, the construction details are still being debated.  Čogon, being the architect among us, insists that "raising a barn onto stilts" is ridiculous, and instead attempts to reinvent housing entirely.  Our compromise is to make a small simple hut first and learn from that while Čogon develops his ideas.

Rabîl, his daughter Išül, and I are clearing the site and digging holes for the columns.  She has a morbid worldview, and not in the humorous sense.  As a loosely translated example, "If the bog wants to swallow us, did you upset it, or is this how we tell it to stop?"  Yet she seems untroubled, fascinated even.  I can almost sympathise.  Rabîl is far less talkative, but pleasant to work with.  I only wish I wouldn't have to hold him by the scruff about the scale of this construction.

110 Li 21
Tosirid spent the past days cutting wood with Dodåk and Îgboth.  We have now pieced together why this family moved here.

Rabîl spent his youth training to become a smith, and the Walled Hall was looking for an apprentice at the time.  But he does not enjoy warfare, and not for a lack of courage.  "Liruk guz.  Nadak etest."  While he was still making up his mind on this, he fell in love with somebody from the local convent of Kirar.  This is how Išül came to be.



Rabîl must've come to regret the circumstances, perhaps he was simply young and foolish.  Dodåk was also worried for the childs well-being, harbouring her own doubts about the monastery.  She is a stern troll who punishes deviance and dangerous behaviour.  By their attention for Išül, these two got together and had a child of their own, Îgboth.  Besides the concerns about the family-friendliness of their religious milieu, there must have been some social tension.  It seems cruel to drive a family with a three-year-old child away into untamed wilderness.

110 Li 27
This construction is unsuccessful.  Luckily, Čogons excitement for a new project far outweights any grudge.  Mattöl and Darikon have helped him orchestrate it.  The former seems overall passive, while her husband is so conceited, it makes Čogon seem humble.  I suppose Čogon only ever held his ideas to high esteem, not himself.  We'll see if Darikon deserves the appreciation he expects from us.



Išül has taken a liking to our cat and vice versa.  She names it Belulthuš.

110 Sa 12
We still do not know much about Üsën, who eludes all prying, and Båb, who only talks about wanting to be a good father to Detam.  They don't seem to mind raising their children alongside the others, so for now, we agree to accept their mystery.

Working with dried reeds is slow, but the stilt house is coming along well and standing sturdy so far.  It is about time, the rain hardly intermits anymore.


The DF Wiki has a handy, searchable export of the dwarven vocabulary.

I'll save you the trouble of translating Rabîl's motto.  It means "Violence is simple. Protection is dutiful."  There doesn't seem to be a dwarven word for "difficult" per se, which speaks volumes about their culture.