Go for it. Just put forward a good case for anything actually being built and don't kill any dwarves that haven't already died (or any other stuff that the game controls).
11th Haematite, 303The Guild has returned with its wagons. Hopefully, they brought some decent supplies this year. We have a glut of booze and food to sell them, not to mention all the glass harps. Userpay somehow managed to produce a set of glass drums, which frankly boggles the mind. I've cautiously taken steps to ensure he can't finish any glass axes he might try, though...
13th Haematite, 303Goblins struck at the trading depot, a band of swordfighters with ranged backup. Draconus was shot in the thigh as the opening move of combat, followed sharply by one of the humans (who I learned when he was buried to have been called Spibsa) receiving a bolt through the heart and lung. Moments later, a second squad burst from hiding, comprised of a macegoblin and two hammerers. By the time Tormy and I even reached the scene it was over. Although the human guards on hand were of immense help in putting the threat down, I see this as a strong incentive to push on with the larger goal of moving into the sea (crazy as that sounds) and limiting our land access.
Fortunately, Draconus has survived his injury and will enjoy a lengthy period of recuperation whilst we sort out that wound.
14th Haematite, 303The humans came through for us. There is indeed a brewery to the north and we have received a vast quantity of liquor for the glassware we provided them. Drink stores have passed the thousand pint mark.
2nd Malachite, 303Additional goblin issues today when one of their child snatchers arrived. The colony cat alerted us to him with a loud hiss and one of the huntsmen, Nomal, shot him in the leg before closing in to finish him off.
27th Malachite, 303Barring a couple more snatchers, Malachite has been a blessedly quiet month so far. Progress on the second machine continues apace and today one of the labourers, Kib, gave birth to a boy (her third child) named Lòr.
4th Galena, 303Yet another prison ship arrived today, which frankly is causing serious overcrowding issues at this point. Prisoner manifest is as follows.
Minkot Likotudar, Wood Burner
Athel Rushrulfeb, -
Rith Thabumiden, Woodcutter
Rith Såkzulidor, Fishery Worker (f)
Astesh Thobobur, Jeweller
Fath Åbelnebél, Mechanic
Lokum Rerrasdakost, Mechanic (f)
Zon Stinthädbardum, -
14th Galena, 303Inod Âmkikrost, one of the miners, approached me today in my office with a strange glaze to his eyes. He pronounced that the work upon the sea dome could not be completed successfully without the blessing of Kerlîg, the god of fortresses, and that he would require materials for an offering to the god. I tried to explain to him the current shortages in available materials (particularly bismuth bronze, to my annoyance) when he planted his pick straight in the centre of my glass table, cracking it in twain.
He's getting his materials. Then he's paying for my new desk.
15th Galena, 303Inod locked himself in the stonemason's shop with three slabs of alunite and gneiss and a dead turtle. He appears to be pounding the stone into shape with his pick. Gods only know what he'll do with the turtle.
Inod placed the throne upon the beach, facing the sea. Gulls flocked across the clear blue sky and he waited, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. Cousteau approached from behind, looking over the artefact appraisingly. The body of the throne was alunite, though Inod had placed mixed bands of basalt and alunite on the back and encrusted it with diamonds of basalt. The turtle's shell had been carved into spikes, which extended from the head of the throne to give a decidedly menacing appearance.
"Its name is Låluthdastot Oshot Stisträs," Inod stated prominently. "It shall be our offering to Kerlîg."
"Pretty nice," remarked Cousteau, whistling.
"Activate your machine," Inod commanded. Uncertain where he was going with this, Cousteau gave the signal to pull the lever. Alleit, who happened to be taking stock of the works, ran over to the machinery and pulled.
Unlike the Delver before it, Dee's newest machine took the shape of a great ring of pumps, following a similar design. This time however the pumps began to activate one at a time in sequence, each one forming a relatively tiny vortex at the point of suction. As the ring of vortices continued to form, however, the surrounding water became increasingly unstable, wavering and swirling until the ring was complete. With a thunderous crash the vortices merged and the surface of the ocean caved inwards, a titanic whirlpool forming within the ring of machinery and stretching down to the ocean floor.
Cousteau could feel the air pressure crashing. Up above, clouds began to form spontaneously in the sky in response, the azure atmosphere giving way with terrifying quickness to grey skies and growing dark clouds. The thunder rolling in the skies was drowned out by the thunder of the vast, swirling vortex and the machinery that made it possible.
"Gaze, now," Inod instructed, "upon the true nature of Areldolush, the Water Bore." He spoke forcefully, with a commanding tone that Cousteau had never heard from him before, to the backdrop of a steadily growing storm. "The earth is a patient beast. Eternal. Impassive. Often she is assaulted, delved by our kind and others, but she endures because in time all is returned to her and all is renewed. Yet the sea is different in her nature. Though eternal and ever-flowing, though ever changing she is always one entity, always flowing by her own will. Here, though, we have balked that order and rent water like rock. Here we have stabbed a blade into a beast never before cut, and it roars with anger at newfound pain. Look upon your works, Warden, and despair."
Sparks were flowing along the glass, static charges building and discharging to the sound of a thousand sharp squeals, akin to a orchestra tuning up. As sheets of rain descended, the spiralling chaos in the sky above matched well the extensive disruption of the sea below, stretching far beyond the limits of the bore the machines had created. A palpable tension pervaded the atmosphere as torrential winds whipped every creature above the ground or sea, stripping the very sand from the beaches in its fury.
"What happens now?" Cousteau asked uncertainly, feeling a daunting sense of horror at the devastation before her.
"Now," Inod pronounced, "we will learn if the gods are truly with us." He grasped the throne with both hands and lifted it to the sky, soaked with the spray of rain hurtling off its surface. For a single, awe-inspiring moment, time slowed to a crawl. Cousteau watched in terrified fascination as a fine, twisting pillar of light speared upwards, impaling the pregnant clouds above. Then, with inevitable certainty, a flood of brilliant lightning-fire cascaded back down along the path the pillar had left and everything turned to white.
18th Galena, 303Somehow, Inod's throne (not to mention Inod and I) survived getting struck by lightning. He told me to place it in the glass palace as the first piece of furniture with the promise that so long as it remains there, Kerlîg shall protect us from the sea. Given what I have witnessed today, I am in no position to doubt that.
Areldolush - The WaterboreConstruction underway.