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[erendor]

Well, I finished the thread, just now.  Brilliant work, and I'll be sure to keep reading.

[Glacies]

Y'know, I fail to see why worshippers of Lenod have a hard time and vice versa with worshippers of Zefon. Lenod's dawn and twilight and Zefon's rebirth. Hell, you could even say they're sorta close because of the constant dawns being a sort of rebirth of the sun...But I'm not gonna say this near anyone thankyouverymuch.

[Jools]

Especially not Stravitch, who is yet to be persuaded that maces play no role in a civilised debate.

Oh, and I'd just like to say that I love the greased step as an assassination attempt - wonderfully subtle yet beautiful when it backfires, because Stravitch turns out to be harder than the things he collides with at the bottom. I wonder what sort of fat or oil was used... such information may point in the direction of the culprit.

[Heavy Flak]

Glacies: I'll be honest, I don't really remember how the Zefonists and Lenodites have come to be at each others throats.  I suspect it happened just like most other things in this fortress - someone made a snarky comment and I ran with it.  The "someone" in this equation was probably Stravitch who wanted to see an appropriate tribute to "The Bloody Sun God".

[Stravitch]

There is only place for 1 god at the top of the altar.  That god?  Lenod.  Also, a more proper debate involves more than just a mace.  It also includes copious amounts of rum and the finest at Dodik's. 

[Jools]

Finest... mugs, for holding the rum?

Stravitch can't possibly mean anything unwholesome. Dodik-come-lately is a worshipper of Zefon and therefore unlikely to be involved in any... dubious activities.

OOC: Yep, erendor, this is a great story - feel free to request a dwarf, I'm sure there are some spares...

[erendor]

If there are any peasants or stonecrafters who secretly aspire to great things, then erendor shall claim possesion of their soul!

Name: erendor
Class: Stonecrafter
Sex: either!

erendor seeks, as all good and slightly insane dwarves do, to create a mighty artifcact!  Coming to Migrursut for it's reputation as a wealthy and artifact-rich Mountainhome, he waits for inspiration to strike.  In the meantime, something compels him, obsessively, to hone his skills...
erendor mutters "Pandorfa needs!"
Toy...puzzle.
gems...shining

(erendor strives obsessively to create a masterpiece item of the above)

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 5^th of Moonstone, 1064

"No, don't fire!"
"But they're... baring down on us!  He's almost here!" 
Rolland scowled from under the brim of his hat, blue bombardiers blazing.  He unslung his crossbow, and Sparrow was still amazed with the speed it was done, at the blur of wood and steel as it was brought into position.  He fired a single shot, the bolt striking the Dread Camel between the eyes. 

The hardened skull exploded in a shower of dust and bone fragments.  The body toppled to the ground, the foul magic holding it aloft evaporating into the wind.  As the bones collapsed into the dirt, Rolland slung the crossbow over his back once more and sighed deep. "You're forgotten your lessons.  You don't aim with your hand."

Sparrow lifted the crossbow again, squinting down the sights.  He'd never had problems shooting before - always bringing in two or three of the live camels that wandered through the desert once a year.  But now, after training with Rolland, it had all gone to hell.  He exhaled, his finger tightening on the trigger.  "He who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.  I aim with my eyes." 

He fired, and for the first time since he started training, his bolt flew true.  It split the skull of an oncoming camel.  He was quick to drop the crossbow and slam home a bolt, kicking it back into place.  A quick aim, and another pull of the trigger.  Another shot, another down.  Another reload.  Another shot.  In a matter of minutes, sparrow had dropped four of the beasts. 

He smiled as Rolland turned to look at him.  But Rolland just tugged his head down lower and trudged towards the fortress, "We'll take a quick sup, then take to the archery targets.  These iron bolts are a scare treat, better we waste their bones for our practice.  To me, squire."

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 15^th of Moonstone

"Sir!  Don't you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Stravitch asked sullenly.  His hand was on the petrified wooden door leading in to Dodik's, and he turned with an effort that looked like it pained him.  Fixing Varen with a stare, he worked the piece of ratweed around in his mouth before spitting a streak of blackish saliva into the sand.  "What am I listening for."

The damned warning you idiot! Varen wanted to scream.  Instead, he took in a deep breath and exhaled, calming himself as best as possible before saying, "The siege bell, sir.  Goblins must be marching on our fortress.  We need to go get prepared, make sure the troops are up and outside to defend... I told you we shouldn't have left our place in the quarry.  Damn that Aryn, for building that bridge across the gap.  Has he lost his mind?"
"Siege bell?" Stravitch said, and rolled his eyes.  "I don't hear a siege bell.  I hear a 'get inside' bell.  We're getting inside.  Come along, this first round will be on me."

"Oh if only I had the strength to strike you down myself..." Varen spun on his heels, and sprinted towards the fortress, to grab his spear.  Stravitch's eyes widened at the audacity of the youth.

"You will be punished for that insolence! C'mon," He nearly clotheslined Rith Budseal as he tried to dash towards the safety of the fortress, scooping the child up in a crushing headlock.  "I need someone to drink with, come with me.  The first round is on me."

***

Dwarves streamed past Rolland as he stood beside the road.  His head was down, concentrating on carefully loading the last of the bolts into his repeating crossbow.  In the distance, the squad of goblins marched towards him.  Had he been in this fortress earlier, he would have noticed how ill equipped these greenskins were.  Metal replaced with simple leather armors in most cases, half the squad beefy with muscles but carrying no weapons.

It didn't matter.  Armored, or armed, all goblins died the same: hate on their lips, heads full of bolts.

Rolland lifted his head, glaring at the oncoming hord.  "I am Rolland DaysChain, of Monom Ros!  Turn aside now, lest your blood stain this sand redder."

They didn't, of course.  They only jibbered in their foul tongue, grinning tusk-filled smiles at him.  The goblin closet to him stopped smiling, an iron bolt sprouting from his head, blooming blood.  More were filled with arrows, shafts sprouting from legs and arms, jutting from goblin bellies.  The ones that didn't bleed out, were soon put down.

[Heavy Flak]

OOC

Jools: I haven't found a good way to add this in to the story just yet, so I'm just going to come out and just tell you.  The merchants brought Donkey's with them, a family that had 2 foals immediately upon purchase.  Quite the steal!  So you now your zoo has three donkeys.  (Oops, what happened to the fourth?  Tune in next time to find out!)

Erendor: Future requests are being taken in a "as-story-allows" basis, since the Gods don't see fit to give me migrants.  However, yours doesn't seem to be that difficult to meet, and I'll have you added, either as a child that grows up and wants to be like his artifact making heroes, or as ... something else.

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

Stravitch is a true dwarf.
He honestly couldn't care less until he gets a drink or performs some other trifling task.

[Jools]

Woohoo! Donkeys! And even better - baby donkeys!

<Enthusiastically throws himself in to the task of mucking them out, whilst singing "Zefon wants me for a sunbeam" stridently and relentlessly off-key>

Whatever has happened to the fourth donkey, it seems I can do nothing about, so I will have to take special care of the remaining donkeys, and ensure that they may live long, happy lives. Possibly even getting them rope reed hats to keep the sun out of their eyes...

[Glacies]

You've got to teach me the lyrics for that. It's catchy.

[Vactor]

Just out of curiosity in regards to the lack of immigrants, have you been meddling with your raws at all?  Perhaps your init file, I've tried a few forts with higher population limits,(like 400-1000) and get several immigrant waves in the first year.

edit:  it also seemed to increase the birth rate of the dwarves, but that could just be happenstance.

[Kuli]

First there was Olsmo the demon drunk, and now Migrursut continues to breach dimensional boundaries and influence other DF worlds.  In logical2u's thread Metalwind - The suburbs, he has a dwarven god named Zefon.

Apparently Zefon takes the form of a male dwarf and is associated with rain, plants, creation, crafts, and metals.  It may not be our Zefon, but still...it's a neat coincidence.