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[Eagle]

HOLY. SHIT. Most epic wall o text ive read so far. I want in on this!

Name: Dunar
Gender: male
Profession: miner/mason

A quiet, helpful dwarf, he rarely speaks, preferring to have his actions do the talking. He works steadily and patiently, never shirking his duty and often even helping with others' jobs.

Thanks!

[TheMirth]

Thanks. I've been thinking of doing a tl;dr spoiler at the bottom for when I go a bit overboard. Despite being near 3 seasons worth of game time, it went by too quickly to really break it up.

Question, would you like to claim Gravelvoice or an as of yet undescribed Mason?

In case I haven't done a good enough job implying or foreshadowing. Gravelvoice spent some time as a sheriff before he ended up as the Fort's Mason, more of that transition later. The well being of the dwarves in his fort are his first concern, although his method of helping Lęgan hasn't been appreciated too much so far. You'd be free to help develop the character with journal entries but due to no one claiming him earlier I did have to start creating a personality for him.

Otherwise I can name a dwarf from one of the two sets of migrants, whichever has a personality profile that closest fits your request, and he'll be something of a blank slate to work from.

[Eagle]

Sweet, ill take Gravelvoice. In fact, Dunar is the name of one of my old Dwarf characters from a story or something i wrote, where his full name was Dunar Ironspine. So that sorta fits.  Just disregard the personality traits in my other post if you give me Gravelvoice; i like the personality you've set him up as.

Thanks, and keep up the good work!

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

I love what you've done with Thjald :3

[TheMirth]

Lęgan 11th Limestone, Our Second Year at Nokzamkulal
    It had been embarrassing enough meeting the King's Liaison alongside the filthy remnants of the immigrants that had arrived the season before. When one of them went mad babbling about being served for dinner I did my best to smile and rush the ambassador inside. I told a nearby dwarf to rouse Murdergrins from the barracks to deal with the situation but apparently before he could Thjald resolved it. The old dwarf has been surprisingly stout when dealing with intruders. I'd offered him a chance to work with Murdergrins on training up some of the young dwarves without a trade in our barracks but he declined. Said his place was in the mountain.

    The sad news is the little event yesterday was not as confined as we thought. Our farmer Hayseed was struck down along with some of our stray dogs. Beyond the awkward way she lay on the ground with a broken, neck her clothes were what made the discovery truly strange. A nearby crossbow suggested she had been out first to stop the madness but the manufacture of the item had no maker's mark on it and was below the level of quality that Crispin would make.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Lęgan 15th Sandstone, Our Second Year at Nokzamkulal
    I have managed a trade of several bins of leather to work into armor for Mr. Acecudgles. Despite crafting a magnificent quiver, he's been quite morose without any work to do. I have also traded for the odd bit of rare metals like bismuth for some of our stonecrafts. I gave the merchant very favorable exchanges in the hopes he'd bring back some of the good I requested next year. Next year, it is odd to think of this place in some sense of permanence.

    There has been scant word from the Baron though, so I must push on. It was by accident that one of the new farmers here at Nokzamkulal stumbled upon more of the mystery of Hayseed's death. None of us who remembered digging out the farms or storing the food would have thought to venture down the old staircase, it was a dead end into some rock to be carved out at a later time. Well it seems that Hayseed had found that time when we thought she was distilling our drink.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

   
    I don't know what purpose she had to build this room in secret, but the archery stands looked well used. A large volume of bone bolts explained why we had not bonecrafts to trade with. I hadn't really worried about their absence since I assumed it was laziness on the part of the refugees. I wonder what else I've been missing while working on the courtyard bridges.

    The good news is that a mechanic has made his way in among the crowd of refugees who have arrived here. He says he was  a member of the Engineer's guild of Illiago and is seeking steady work. I've had him begin examining the bridge layout to find the source of the mechanism's problems. This should give me the time needed to find out just what's been going on in my fort.


Duran's been added on the starting page. I also realized that I'd royally messed up the name of the fort and have corrected it in my posts. A clear sign that I need to spend at least a perfunctory spellcheck and read through. I have enough out there allready that I should be able to handle doing some proofreading though.

Note to self: One expert Marksdwarf + 2 war dogs vs. One skilless zerk animal trainer = w dead dogs, 1 dead dwarf and one mildly annoyed skilless zerk. 

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

Yay, mechanics.
I can see this being Fun.

[TheMirth]

Nokzamkulal, Courtyard Slopes

    Betsy patted her forehead with her apron. It had been some time since she had been out in the sun. It was a bit unnerving for her to feel it beating on her back as she dug. Betsy didn't mind though, her work in the fort kitchen had slowed as she stocked the Fort's larder with stews and hardy biscuits that would keep over the winter months. Besides, working outdoors got her away from the farm fields that Hayseed planted. Her name echoing in Betsy's head sent a wave of nausea through her.
"You OK there Bets?" Thjald called from a slope above her.
"Fine, just a bit of sun sickness." Betsy responded, holding back the sour vomit she wanted to spew.
"Best to just let it out, no sense in carrying a bellyful of bile around with you." The old dwarf said, ambling his way down the slope. "I've got a mind to wet my beard. Don't stay out too long, it wouldn't do to have some thief or worse surprise you in the middle of a bout of the sun sickness"
Betsy waved him on as he headed down the mountain. Although the rest had also known hayseed Betsy felt especially guilty about the whole affair. When the fort first opened, Betsy had been busy working with Thjald, carving out tunnels and rooms, listening to him talk about the way to work with the mountain, not against it. She loved how proud he was when talking about the mountain, their new home. His beard would fluff out, nearly doubling the depth of the old dwarf. It had been Lęgan she had first come to about how handsome Thjald was. Lęgan had been good to talk it over but Hayseed. Hayseed was fascinated with Betsy over her infatuation, what it felt like. Betsy thought it fun at the time, to be the big sister dwarf but now with her little sister gone, she felt helpless and small.

Nokzamkulal, Dining Hall

    Thjald had his sketch of his findings laid out over the dining table. A pair of dwarf rangers were on either side of him listening to his case. He'd been very careful following the river's pathway and had given Lęgan the overview. Unfortunately for Thjald, because he'd done such a good job finding and mapping the thing he now had to find a way to clear out the inhabitants that currently claimed it. It was easy enough to find a bit of help from the refugees, a couple were rangers but had no work in this fort, not with the forests beyond the walls forbidden. One of the pair had even tried her hand at wood craft, an exercise she enjoyed so much she became consumed with a project, making a wonderful oaken bracelet. When presenting it to Lęgan, she'd been thanked but told that wood was still too scarce for woodcraft. So her business venture had been a bust and what was worse was that some of the dwarves had taken to calling her Elvenhands, for her wood work. Thjald stroked his beard, pleased that he'd found the right dwarfs for the job. Unemployed, bored and desperate to prove themselves. For their part the two rangers just nodded their heads hoping the old dwarf of the mountain wouldn't realize that neither was more than apprentice at their craft.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

 

Nokzamkulal, Managers Office.

Lęgan dropped into her office like a rag doll. Every muscle in her body was sore. Her body ached just resting their breathing. She felt good though. Her time in this fort had made her more active than she'd ever been in her life. She had begun to crave the feeling of relief when she exhausted herself. She'd been behind her desk managing papers and complaints for too many days. So when the fort's BTI Rep stepped inside to complain about not being allowed to send his reports she took him to the barracks instead. Lęgan had promoted the fort's most active and willing member of civil defense to master of arms. He'd been allowed to pick amongst the refugees with unnecessary skills for the fort's basic defense. Murdergrins took to it quickly, and had already trained one recruit well enough to begin patrols with him. Lęgan didn't really relate to her captain of the guard but he was good natured about all she had ever asked of him and protecting the fort seemed a good use for his enthusiasm. That enthusiasm had been infectious enough for her to take MR. Acecudgels out for a sparring session. Lęgan smiled thinking back on it. "Why don't you tell me about your problems over a bit of floor work Representative?" He'd been a bit shy about accepting it. He was surprisingly strong as well for such a meek dwarf. It had been worth getting knocked over and punched to feel the representative trapped beneath her as she practiced choking her opponent. They'd both come away better from Murdergrin's instruction although Lęgan didn't know if the Representative found it as cathartic, the little gnome probably enjoyed working the boss over as well. The thought of the meek leatherworker so puffed with pride over wrestling with the boss cause Lęgan to let out a laugh. The waves of stress building up bubbled out of her, like a breached aquifer gushing pent up pressure.

    The moment of release didn't last long. On her desk Lęgan noticed an envelope. It was placed at the top of her work orders to process, another incidental piece of business to handle. Wrinkled from water exposure and stained with some substance she'd rather not think about. It was probably purple at one time but now was a brown color as it rested on her desk. Sealing the envelope was a a piece of red wax with an imprint of a Mushroom on it. Lęgan inspected closer to make sure but no matter how close or what angle she viewed it it remained the same. The Tower Cap insignia of the Baron.

Nokzamkulal, Courtyard Bridges

    Murdergins hummed a little tune to himself. His life at Nokzamkulal had been a good one. He'd worked a few of the locals out and while quite a few were fit enough to begin duty in the militia he needed to start small first. A first mate, someone to help him keep the men in line. So he'd picked one dwarf to focus his training on. The young'un could barely march with his full chain and leather gear but a few rounds in the sun would teach him how to endure. A dwarf shouldn't feel exhausted to the brink of fainting for the first time when something's trying to run him through. He came to the end of his route, at the entrance to the bridge. The large dwarf set his axe head down, shaft up. His hand cupped the aft end as he looked out into the forest beyond. The first hundred yards out had been ordered cleared out to remove cover from any sneaking-

"Thief! Help!"

Murdergrins, lifted his iron axe up onto his shoulder and turned.



Behind him he saw the replacement woodcutter running down the bridge towards him. Behind him ran one of the largest goblins Murdergrins had ever seen. Nearly tall as an elf but just as narrow. In one hand he held a long one edged blade of some kind, raised above him ready to strike down the wood cutter.

"Hold your ground ya long eared tree hugger, I'm coming." Murdergrins called up, working himself up to a run. The wood cutter turned to face his assailant and swung at the tall goblin. The goblin hissed and deflected the strike with his own weapon. The goblins feet danced forward and his blade struck out, sending the wood cutter to the ground grasping his leg.

"Hrmpph, let's see you try that with someone who wet the bed." Murdergrins said calm as could be, while stepping in front the wounded dwarf.

The goblin stood warily, looking the confident dwarf before him over. Murdergrins stood halfway up the goblins chest but was twice as broad. Copper covered every inch of the dwarf short of his eyes and grin. The goblin raised its weapon and Murdergrins crouched his legs, a chuckle beginning to form deep in his chest. It never developed for instead of striking the goblin made a feint and then ran past him.

"You can't promise a fight and then leave before the fun!" Murdergrins shouted as the goblin began to put distance between him. Sighing too himself, he leaned forward and began to speed his legs a flurry, despite the extra weight of armor the axedwarf caught the goblin before he'd even reached the next bridge.

With one swing he severed the fleeing goblins left arm. "That was for raising your weapon to me." He said, pulling his axe back for another swing "and this is for making me run." The goblin screamed as the axe collided with its chest, sending the creature up into the air and away from the fort's defender.

"Wait, I wasn't done with you yet!" the axedwarf cried, watching his afternoon distraction going sailing away from him.



With his quarry dispatched he came to check on the wounded dwarf. "Bah, he barely hit the bone with that strike. Now get your ass to a bed before you catch an infection and we need to waste a coffin on you." Murdergrins, gave the injured dwarf a hand up and returned to his patrol. Yes, his life at Nokzamkulal was a good one.

[TheMirth]

Nokzamkulal, bridges over the courtyard

Murdergrins pulled at his beard. The day had started well enough, another of the woodcutters had been attacked outside the the courtyard clearing the forest. With one swing he cleaved through the creature's clavicle and deep into its chest. Before he'd even retrieved his axe another of the odd local variety of goblins, which he'd been told were referred to as hobgoblins, dropped out of a tree and made a break for it. He'd started to give chase but his recruit started crying about protecting the entryway bridge and the other woodcutters. Murdergrins was now having second thoughts about his first recruit. She was always asking questions about what to do in this case or that. It was made his patrol route all the worse and now she even nagged him about chasing the enemy down. "Bah" He muttered to himself, letting go of his beard and continuing on his route. Above him lay an even greater antagonist, the hobgoblin who'd gotten away.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"What's the matter little dwarfs? Can't come out of your hole in the ground?" The hobgoblin taunted down from his perch high on the mountain cliff. He'd been throwing rocks and harassing them for several days now. IF it weren't for the strict orders that the woodcutters and now the novice masons expanding the walls needed protection Murdergrins would've shut the chasm bastard up long ago. Instead he just gave his beard another tug and ignored his recruit asking about what they'd do if more goblins showed up.

Lęgan , Nokzamkulal, 1st Opal, Our second year since founding.

    I have buried myself back into my work. It seems I must make this place presentable. I have drawn up several plans for the entryway and sealed them up to be opened in stages. As one stage is complete the next set of instructions is to be opened. I am also handing over my responsibilities as job manager to Crispin our expedition's metal worker. He's done a good job running Hammerdwarf's Hall that I hope he can do the same for the other areas of the fort. Our alcohol shortage has passed after I had a second still constructed but I can't spend my time putting out fires when time is pressing on me. I plan on leaving this place and getting back to the mountainhome as soon as the Baron is satisfied. For now I must run things until my work is completed.

    Murdergrins has become something of a celebrity amongst the refugees and immigrants staying here at Nokzamkulal. His exploits with the kobolds and skalassi they've heard from us and our wounded woodcutter's close call with death cemented the concept of him as the fort's mighty protector. Too encourage this feeling of reliance of protection I've held him back from killing one of the skulking filth that's been hanging around our fort. The effect of the creature on the laborers has been one of fear as they shy away from preparing our 'Immigrant Tomb' in the old copper vein. I plan on letting him loose on the creature tomorrow, the vantage point high on the valley slope should give all the dwarfs a fine sight of our Murdergrins. I've planned a ceremony after the event, Anam forbid he should lose but a light wound would certainly impress. The dwarf has something of a black sense of humor that may not go over to well with our less hopeful brethren. I haven't recorded it yet but he named his squad, the banner guard of the fort as of now, 'The Tender Labors'. While I couldn't help but laugh when I heard, I can't chance the laborers finding the irony distasteful. His title should be something he'd find funny but which you could say with a straight face. I'm sure it will come to me by tomorrow.

    Betsy will be set to help Thjald handling most of the excavation that is needed. I had hoped Thjald would allready have started preparing the river for use but he keeps dismissing me, telling me he's got the best dwarfs in the fort handling it. I'm not convinced.

    As for the fort's representative, I am going to give him another chance to act as our record keeper. His fine quiver really was something special so perhaps I judged his incompetence too harshly. We shall see.

    This leaves only Dunar. I will be forced to work on my project for at least a season and I don't know how this dwarf will react. Since I began drowning him in job orders he hasn't been in my ear second guessing my every move. I doubt Crispin will keep up the inefficient work load I've put on him. I will have to settle things with old gravelvoice before I give myself over. One way or the other he needs to know his place.

Nokzamkulal Courtyard bridges.

 Lęgan had gathered a crowd of the fort's laborers outside. Above them, high on the mountainside they could see the hobgoblin shaking his weapon at them. "Citizens of Nokzamkulal, for your labor here has warranted you that much, for too long you have run from danger." Lęgan started, her voice clear and comforting. She pointed to the outer forest beyond the protective wall. "From what lies beyond you have fled. Goblins and now hobgoblins harrying you as you searched for peace." The burly axedwarf behind her shifted uncomfortably, not because of the crowd, he was pleased as could be to be trotted around in front of everyone like a hero. His discomfort was caused by his discomfort with waiting to be let loose. "Today, my brothers and sisters. I tell you that you time of fear and fleeing is at an end!" She raised her arms to emphasize the point but the crowd remained unconvinced the memories of their old fort were still too fresh and the stories they'd heard of the forest beyond from the founders made a strong impression. Lęgan continued "For today, today you learn that dwarves don't run. They fight back and when they do-"

"They shit their shorts and hide in their holes!" Shouted the hobgoblin. He'd made his way down the slope, within listening distance and was now waving, what Lęgan assumed were his genitalia at them. A few of the dwarves in the courtyard threw rocks at the creature but they fell impotently well short of the target.


"Well I guess we'll see." Lęgan cried back, giving Murdergrin the sign to move up.


"Finally, all this talking and we coulda been drinking by now." The dwarf muttered beginning his sprint along the bridge.


"Wait!" Cried his young recruit behind him, her legs working overtime against his. Her armor hung loose and uncomfortably on her causing her to run with an awkward gait. "It could be an ambush! Wait for me."


Murdergrins rolled his eyes and didn't respond. Down the bridge ramp, up the slope, for four days his target had mocked him and he'd been forced to allow it. Murdergrin didn't sit back and let his enemy make him look weak. To allow your opponent that is to give him confidence and creates worry for your own crew, it was the worst sort've battle to lose, for no amount of fine weaponry or armor could move itself, a warrior's flesh and bone did that. And without his heart he was just another moving corpse on the field. Finally Murdergrins reached the creature, resting against the wall and waiting for him.


"Ah I see you finally got the guts to meet me up here. Now don't think you'll kill me with one blow like my brother." The hobgoblin began, raising its long iron weapon in front of him.


"I wasn't planning on it." The near enraged dwarf responded, letting loose his axe at his opponent. The goblin raised its weapon to block the axe and proctect its organs where its brother had been struck. The axe arrived low, under the hobgoblin's blade. It struck the creature's left ankle and severed it and without pause moved straight through the right ankle. The creature cried out in pain but Murdergrins was all ready bringing down his axe again, this time at the knee. "Not so high and mighty tall now are ye?" The dwarf spat at the miserable creature beneath him. He could hear the roar of relief from the dwarfs below, cheering him on. "Now without those skinny legs you won't be getting away from me before I've had my fill." Down came the axe again, sending an arm off and down the slope. A peasant rushed forward and grabbed it where it landed in the courtyard. The crowd roaring their approval.


"I'm coming Sir! Don't worry I'll protect you!" A shout from the slope called out to him, it was his recruit, still struggling to catch up with him


The bloody dwarf looked down on his victim, still awake and spraying blood and gore at the dwarf's feet. It spat and growled at him but that's all the creature could do as it no longer had any limbs. With a sigh the dwarf decided he would end it before his nag came and spoiled the moment for him. With a final strike he severed the hobgoblin's head from its shoulders.


"Miners, Masons and Laborers. Our dwarf master of Arms, the Page of Abbey Cloisters" Lęgan declared to the cheering group of dwarves. Their blood was up and they now had a symbol to latch on to for their protection. Murdergrin had done his part and she thought he would get a kick out of the title's pious nature. He didn't strike her as the religious sort.

[Phenixmirage]

Great story! Can't wait to see what happens next. 

[TheMirth]

Lęgan , Nokzamkulal, 2nd Malachite, My third year in exile.
    Things have been going well and not well. I'm inserting a copy of the latest fort records report.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Perhaps if I keep a clear enough history of my ordeal hear my stuggles will be clear should I fail at my task. We are a strange collection of dwarves here at Nokzamkulal, refugess of lost towns, vagabonds looking for work, honest industrious immigrants from the mountainhome. All coming to a fort founded by seven dwarves with a bad hangover and a loose idea of surviving againt a tribe of cyclopes and Anam knows what else.

    What has been good is that the cyclopes seem very content to leave us alone, as long as we don't enter their section of the forest. With the help of a human caravan that passed unharmed but near enough to them I have discovered where their territory lies and as such we can easily avoid them. The bad news is that I've been asked by my...benefactor to not leave them alone at all. The good Baron intends to come to Nokzamkulal and has promised other members of the court that he has a family of trained cyclopes that serve him. So I must now a way to capture five cyclopes before he arrives or it will be my head.

    The other bad news is that Betsy stumbled upon a deep crack in the mountain and was attacked by a horde of bat like beasts upon breaching it. While she's fine I've had to seal off the cavern leading until we can handle the menace.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

This is also frustrating as the crack runs perpendicular to the cyclope's valley. So I must either bridge the crack while fending off whatever creatures swell up out of it or I must break the surface before our capture party can reach the tribe of cyclops. Openening them up to attack from whatever the other nightmares living in the forest are.

    This leads to my problem with our military. While my choice for master of arms was a bit of brilliance for the psychological aspects. He's taken to being a fort hero like a a barrel of rum. This has had the side effect of slowing down the recruitment and training of the fort's military. As our dear Murdergrin spends his time carousing in the dining hall in stead of recruiting from the many dwarfs littering the halls.

    Crispin's efficiency and focus on metalworking, which seemd a blessing at first now appears a curse. The dwarf has reorganized our wood supply chain such that all wood first goes to the coal maker before our carpenter has a chance to catch up with our demand for beds and bins. Even with first pick for wood our smelters cannot keep up with the demand for more metal bars. I have increased our wood cutting workforce but the larger number of dwarves in the wild has spread our defenses thin. Some of the new recruits came upon one of the wood gatherers stabbed to death with a Lizardman scout standing over his corpse. While he was avenged I thanked the earth that it wasn't a larger force, we're spread too thin.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

    While our millitary is spread too thin, our workshops and sleeping quarters have become too crowded and our demand for beds outpacing our carpenter. With the Baron declaring that he's bringing the court here, I feel we must abandon this level and begin working on a more majestic setup. I had designs for wells and water gardens but Thjald has made no progress on clearing the cave river of the dangers within it. Everytime I've pressed him he reassures me the project is in good hands and then goes back to mining in some unrelated area of the fort. Our Representative from BTI was able to work at a fantastice speed, sewing an account of our records to bags and quivers in his workshop but now we have to go searching through the food stores looking for the bag to find out how much copper ore we have left. I brought this up to him but he only muttered under his breath in response. I'm thinking of putting his office  in the lower stockpiles to kill vermin to make some sort've use of him.

    The last bit of good news is that we have found a large layer of marble beneath the sand swamps. This should be an excellent source of materials for furnishing the fort or smelting steel should we find some iron in the hills. It isn't doing us any good with all the copper we've been using.

[TheMirth]

Kuletzon, Thirteen years before the founding of Nokzamkulal
    It had been three weeks since he'd felt the safety of the deep earth around him. He'd kept the rest of the party safe during the trek, although they had lost a pet cat to a Giant Eagle in the second. The dwarf had taken it well enough, no crying or weeping. He'd always found that given the right surroundings a dwarf could take all the world had. A stiff drink and a meal surrounded by brethren and no storm could wear a dwarf down. And so he found the immigrants with him. A sturdy lot eager to face the troubles, if the folk he was to oversee were  made of the same stock he should have no problem.

    "Up ahead I can see it!" shouted Newfie, one of the younger dwarves, not much past his first winter since he'd been marked a full dwarf. He was one of the three apprentice to be dwarves hoping to learn a trade at the post. It could be hard in the mountain home for a dwarf without a trade, the cost of rooms were expensive and the flophouses set aside for those who mad too little to afford the rent of the busiest town in the kingdom were only ever meant for a temporary fix. With no place to store his own treasure, the proof of a dwarf's work he'd lose interest and become lazy and disinterested, like a human. Here on the the rim, excavating mineral by special writ from the king an outpost would gladly take in whatever dwarf would come. So it was that as often as not the dregs of the kingdom would travel to the new barriers of the realm to earn a name and wealth for themselves.

    The leader took in the site before him. The site was set where the Highway of Infinite Planes crossed the Entwining Jungle Lane, meeting beside the Barren Mother River. From the way the deep water swirled every time one of his troupe neared the edge the dwarf didn't imagine it was barren of anything but safety. The ground of the site was soft. Well to a human or an elf it may seem as firm as the mountains but too a dwarf, he could feel it, it was a soft land and the wind, water and plant life had worked hard at hiding the stone beneath. But a dwarf wouldn't leave his mother deep within the earth if she called him. That was why they had been invited no doubt. Not him specifically but the company interests that started the dig. He could see through the trees that the region was well populated.

    The group's leader led them off the road and up the hill to where the entrance to their new home should be located. It was up a wooden ramp and then through a hastily constructed log structured down into the earth. While it felt good to the dwarf to be underground the atmosphere was off. Something with stone and at least a door to protect the site. He raised his hand, signalling the rest of his group to stop. With the number of dwarfs he was told to expect here there should have been a more proper entrance by now. The dwarf placed his right hand on the pommel of his sword and unslung his steel shield. With as much quiet as a dwarf could manage sneaking down an earthen tunnel in full plate the dwarf snuck down into the fort. The fort was dead quiet but the muddy floor beneath him still held the tracks of someone recently. IT could be hard to tell how long a footprint lasted in a new fort, the gusts of wind could be regular as clockwork or as random as the royalty's moods.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

    With caution he made his down the hall, to his right a large stockpile of trade goods lay in disarray ransacked by someone or thing. No group of dwarves would let crafts and items be left in such disarray unless something was terribly wrong. The dwarf gently drew his sword from his scabbard, careful to remain quiet. Further down the hallway he tread, the sound of gentle scratching becomes more and more apparent to the dwarf as he inches deeper into the tunnel. The source coming from the other side of a door to his right. The dwarf gathers himself, preparing for his discovery, he mentally goes over his fighting forms, trained in the barracks of the mountainhome. He was a soldier and whatever lay on the other side would know what it means to usurp the dwarves domain by settling here.

    In the blink of an eye he's through the door shield up, sword arm high and ready to swing or jab into the clawing beast.

    "GYAHHH" the creature shouted at him. Except instead of a eight legged horror or a hulking behemoth the creature was a bearded mouse of a dwarf, hands grasping at its own heart. Cheeks gaunt to the point of looking elven it was barely recognisable as a dwarf. With relief in its previously terrified eyes the creature set its quill down in the ink pot. "Ah, that was...Quite the entrance. Welcome to Kuletzon. You must be the replacements I asked for, Lieutenant...?"

    The dwarf waited a moment to see weather the creature before him would slough off the skin it war like an ill fitting suit and reveal it was really a skeletal kobold liche or some other nightmare. But it would appear that this thing either truly was a dwarf, the thinnest he'd ever seen or it was going to keep the facade up longer.

    "Sergeant" He said at last "Sgt. Dunar and I have a group of workers come to join the fort but they're mostly unskilled apprentices. Where's the rest of the fort?"

    "Apprentices? Hrmm that will slow things down but I suppose one must do what one must for progress."

    "Aye, I suppose so. But where are rest?"

    The gaunt dwarf gauged the Dunar for a moment before speaking. "They gave everything to the mission I'm afraid. It's all up to your dwarfs and I now."

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Nokzamkulal, 5th of Malachite year three since the Founding of Nokzamkulal
Fort Hallways.

Dunar hurried up beside Lęgan as she walked towards her office.

    "Lęgan wait, I know you've got your secret project you're working on but you can't forget about the day to day functions of the fort. We're stepping all over each other here, I've got some of the new fellows digging rooms as fast as I can hand out picks and the dining room's getting to be standing room only come dinner time. And-"
    Lęgan cut him off with a smile. Not even one of her normal vicious smiles when she hands out more orders for blocks, no this seemed like genuine happiness from her.
    "Dunar, noble Dunar. That's an excellent point. I've been thinking it over quite a bit myself now that I've got the bridges working properly. This whole fort level was built with a small population getting by but it seems we'll be expecting some guests with a bit more refined tastes. In other words, bones will be broken if we don't dig some decent rooms for the baron when he shows."
    Now, Dunar could see the cruel streak in her eyes as Lęgan continued "Since you've shown in interest I will let you take over as new layout designer for the new levels." She handed the surprised dwarf several thick rolls of paper. " I have designed a more appropriate entryway for our higher class residents, they love that sort of thing, as well as some rooms designs I was thinking about."

    "Well what about the rest of the fort, you can't just" Dunar tried to speak up while taking the papers into his possession.

    "Oh I'm sure you'll think of something. Since I should have my task done by then you will receive full credit for how nice the quarters are. I'm sure you'll be able to figure something out for the rest of us down in the slums" and with that Lęgan left, leaving him with more paperwork to follow. He regarded the papers rolled in his hands again and then stalked back to his own quarters to think on how he got stuck with handling the noble's needs when he'd inquired about the worker's.