Topic: Hateslaughter [Goblin Dark Fortress] (Read 3389 times)

Iituem · « **on:** April 09, 2009, 11:10:53 am »

Once again I have opted to try my hand at a community fortress, though given the results of the last one I shall try to avoid updating it quite as obsessively to avoid burning out.

This particular fortress has a goblin theme! The mods made to this fortress (the only mods made, aside from allowing goblins as the chosen race) are to allow goblins screw pump traps and giving pet values to humans, dwarves and elves (for trading purposes).

Hateslaughter is being sited on a verdant plain (verdant for now, at any rate) and will be exploring the subtleties of goblin society. The founding group, The Nourishing Hatred, consists of five unskilled slaves, one educated slave and one master, a trained pugilist. Given names are listed, will be replaced by nicknames as people sign up. Positions are up for grabs before the fortress begins; first come, first served.

Spoiler: Cast Page (click to show/hide)

Iituem · « **Reply #1 on:** April 09, 2009, 11:54:59 am »

1st Granite, 201

Osta stepped up to the crest of the hill, raising a bloodstained hand to her brow. She surveyed the verdant valley below with an appraising eye, then raised the hare in her other hand and bite another hunk of flesh from it, spitting out bits of fur as she chewed. Moments later, a faint grunting behind her signalled the arrival of Bax, the zostosmang, bent over under the weight of the rolls of parchment and pots of ink strung across her back. A sort of dull thumping suggested she had shuffled the weight to the ground for a few moments.

"What do you reckon?" Osta called between chews, wiping further hare juices from her dull green lips and smearing them over the layered catskin robe that served as her armour. Osta carried little else on her person, including an overt weapon, but the callouses on her knuckles and the tattooing on her wrists marked her as a practised fist fighter.

"Plenty of wood, fass," Bax replied evenly, the obligatory three steps behind. She drew a sharp stick from one of the pockets in her own cave silk shirt, a rough affair kept neat through endless nights diligently spent cleaning it with cave water and a smooth stone. As a result, the shirt had attained an almost transparent quality and did little more than serve as an indicator of status amongst smanges. It certainly had done little to keep out the cold during the journey, and had it not been for rank the resulting effect on her body combined with the remarkable thinness of her shirt might have brought about more than a few lewd comments from the male smanges. This had happened once, whereupon the smang in question had learned a brief lesson in a) the importance of rank and b) how sharp Bax kept her writing implements. When he had finished passing the remains of the eye, the other smanges had gotten the message.

"That fire hole might be a concern, though," she remarked, kneeling down and dipping the stick in one of the pots of ink, pulling some parchment from the rolls and beginning the work of plotting a map. Behind her, a more colourful and more distant series of grunts and the heavy creaking of wheels indicated the approach of the smanges pulling the wagon. Neither Bax nor Osta paid it attention; the smanges could deal with themselves for now. Osta's attention was drawn to the distant hole in the ground where an ominous column of smoke rose.

"I rather suspect the fire hole is why I'm here," Osta smirked. "The z'nt may have given me the usual toslug for directions, but he was clear; Uslot Flickerglowed's sign would greet us. I predict fire, death and torture can be found in that hole. Perhaps we should get a closer look." A cessation of creaking and a few soft thumps suggested the arrival of the wagon and subsequent collapse of the smanges. Osta's bloody lips curled into a brief sneer of amusement. "Tell the smanges they're not done yet, by a long shot, zostosmang. We're going in for a closer look."

Osta set off into the valley, Bax barking harsh instructions to the crew of miserable, rag-covered smanges.

Katsuun · « **Reply #2 on:** April 09, 2009, 12:05:35 pm »

I shall be the Booksmang, named Kat.

Fortis · « **Reply #3 on:** April 09, 2009, 12:36:23 pm »

I'll take the smang Ber.

Glacies · « **Reply #4 on:** April 09, 2009, 02:19:37 pm »

I'll take Damasto.

He's strongly religous. In point of fact, religeon is his life. It's too bad he worships a sun-god and wants nothing more than to help his fellow goblins get along. Devoted to healthcare when it's neccesary. Otherwise, make him work with iron and silver. Weaponsmith. He DOES NOT like other races, and wants the military to be as well-equipped as possible. If he gets a mood, please make sure he makes his artifact out of nickel silver. Preferably a Nickel silver morningstar for the leader, mind you.

Iituem · « **Reply #5 on:** April 09, 2009, 04:03:37 pm »

1st Granite, 201

Osta studied the depression in the landscape as Kat, as Bax was less formally known, began annotating the map atop a plank from the old wagon, which the smanges were busy disassembling.

"Cries out to be used as a moat, really," Kat mused. "What with the river right there and all. The smanges could channel out a path for the water easily enough, then it would just be a matter of using the wood from the trees to build a fortification amid the resulting lake."

"Not a bad idea, zosto, but you fail to consider all our resources. Have the smanges begin digging out wood storage beneath the valley. We must begin stockpiling for the present."

Osta paused, raising a thin white eyebrow as a pack of macaques loped towards the wagon, screeching loudly and eyeing the group's supplied with hungry, beady eyes. As one of them strayed close to the barrels of salted meat, Osta's thin, green fingers lashed out and grabbed the creature by the neck. The macaque rose, the macaque fell, then rose and fell again. Blood spattered against the wood of the vehicle with dull, wet thumps as the unfortunate creature's ribs, pelvis and legs were shattered in the display. Finally, Osta tossed the body onto the wagon.

"We eat tonight," she chuckled harshly.

From the notes of Kat Arstrukagsmong:
13th Granite, 201

It has been a productive two weeks. The smanges have been woking industriously, felling trees and hewing stone, and we have constructed an immediate barracks and wood store and distant quarry. The quarry entrance will be blocked up later, but may provide an escape in the event of emergencies further down the line. Presently, the priority is to get enough wood and stone to complete the initial fortifications. Even the Fass is pitching in, when she is not watching. For one thing, the rest of that bloody pack of macaques that stole both of the crossbows has been slaughtered. With the smanges otherwise busied, I have taken it upon myself to butcher the animals. We will have enough to eat for some time now.

12th Slate, 201

The basic chambers have been hollowed out, with wood storage and necesities storages in place. A communal baracks for the smanges has been prepared, with a small room set aside for the Fass. We have begun work on the northern inner wall with hewn obsidian from the quarry, as well as setting up the channel to bring water into the fort. One of the smanges, Damasto, is causing trouble amongst the miners with nonsense stories about a sun god. I've assigned him to work on the northern tunnel before the others lynch him for blasphemy. Apparently he used to work in the colonies down in the ice floes before he was traded here, so he's picked up the name Glacies. Keeping an eye on this one.

scuba · « **Reply #6 on:** April 09, 2009, 04:24:03 pm »

i'll take zom

Fortis · « **Reply #7 on:** April 09, 2009, 04:57:16 pm »

Ber “Fortis” Gomuxosnun

A coarse, grumpy miner of a goblin. Skilled with stoneworking and mining, he is responsible for digging out many a dungeon back in the keeps. However, his attitude managed to offend some of the goblin higher ups, and he was subsequently sold into slavery under Osta. Understandably, he’s angry over the whole situation and would like nothing better to dig his pick into the ribs of the ‘sniveling curs’ who sold him. And to a lesser extent to the ones who bought him, a category which includes Osta at the moment.

That being said, he does have redeeming qualities. Under his abrasive exterior, he is hard working, and loyal to those he calls friends. He has been known to do favors for his friends, often in the way of making stone trinkets, tools, or furniture and such for them. However, those he really hates should watch out, lest they find a new tunnel in their room that leads directly to the nearest source of water or magma.

One last thing, he is literate, and keeps a private journal hidden away. He has been studying Dwarf writings on the sly, hoping to pick up some of their skill with mining and masonry.

(If Ber already has a different profession, let me know and I'll edit this post.)

Iituem · « **Reply #8 on:** April 09, 2009, 05:45:08 pm »

OOC Note: Switched around Ber and Zom because I had already assigned Ber to woodcutting, but would suit 'Fortis' better to be a miner. Hopefully not too much of a problem, folks!

25th Slate, 201

Osta idly twirled the shard of macaque bone in between her fingers, sat atop the growing obsidian wall and watching boredly for any sign of trouble. Nearly two months had passed and whilst the fortifications were starting to come up properly, there was a definite sense for her that the whole affair was beginning to lose its sense of meaning. She contemplated the smanges sweating away at the walls with a certain envy; their role in this was clear and certain. Build. Cut. Dig. No fretting over choices, no struggling with the effort to understand their fate. Just the work. Unlike them, however, she needed guidance.
Her eye was drawn to the remnants of the prior night's campfire and the dried macaque stains surrounding it. Perhaps guidance was exactly what was needed here after all.

From the notes of Kat Arstrukagsmong:
26th Slate, 201

Mild, but necessary annoyance. Fass has decreed that we will need to build space for a shrine into the foundations, will increase resource requirements. Was hoping she might forget, but now mentioned will have to do - would not wish to risk Uslot's wrath otherwise.

1st Haematite, 201

Far above the valley, in the baking sun, a wise and ancient baboon raised the cub of a lion so the light could catch it and all upon the savannah would know their new master. For a single, resplendent moment the power of destiny was made manifest to a remake of a popular 70s rock and roll theme tune - moments before a well-placed rock dashed the brains of the baboon upon the stone and the pride of lions took flight (along with the giraffes, antelope and various other beasts of the plains).
"Got one!" chortled the goblin known as Scuba wickedly. "First try, too."
"Bah," grumped his companion, Fortis. "Baboons are bloody stringy. And he's an old one. What are you so proud of? Should've hit the lion."
"Ah, quit yer whining. We eat tonight. Help me drag him back to the fort, we've got timber to shift."
Scuba and Fortis each grabbed a leg of the wise, ancient and unfortunately short-sighted baboon and dragged its carcass along the sun-soaked grass of the valley towards the bowl where Hateslaughter was being built. The main foundations were not significant, arrayed as they were in what had adopted a bullet shape with the addition of the shrine pit, but for a starting point it was agreed that they were acceptable. Much of the work now revolved around shifting the timber from the steadily deforested bowl into the racks beneath the foundations, ready for the finishing work to be done on the design.

14th Haematite, 201

Sat on her perch atop the foundations, Osta was the first to spy the approaching train. "Raiders!" she cried out. Then, after a moment's thought, added; "Ours!" She slid off the walls and singled out Kat amongst the work crew.
"Zosto! Get together a trading tent, sharpish. We should be able to sell something or other for some food."

From the notes of Kat Arstrukagsmong:
5th Malachite, 201

Twenty days later and we have a trading post, but very little to actually trade. With our small surplus of obsidian (and a small surplus it is), we could perhaps try and fabricate some trinkets for more meat. One of the smanges assigned to excavation, Fortis, apparently has some experience in the matter. I have assigned him to the matter along with Glacies, who needs to be kept out of trouble. If he doesn't get the message about this whole 'sun god' nonsense, he will find himself the 'guest of honour' at the consecration ceremony for the new shrine.

scuba · « **Reply #9 on:** April 09, 2009, 08:30:51 pm »

stupid baboon. didnt stand a chance.(guessing im a marksmen

) yea quit ur whining fortis

Fortis · « **Reply #10 on:** April 09, 2009, 09:33:44 pm »

I have no problem with the switch, Iituem.

Iituem · « **Reply #11 on:** April 10, 2009, 04:38:48 am »

From the notes of Fortis Uraroslem:
10th Galena, 201

Fass is having us root out a network of tunnels around the basin. Wide tunnels, wagon wide. Looks like they're going to link up to the river. Question is, why would she want to flood the basin from multiple points? Got some spare time, knocked out a few obsidian goblets. Cheap work, but what do us togus know of fine craft? Bloody dwarves have it easy, but they put out damn fine work. Shame we never put that sort of effort in.

16th Limestone, 201

Utes sat atop one of the barrels in the rough canvas tent as Damsto unloaded the goods from the emaciated screws they were passing off as donkeys. She swigged something from a corroded tin flask as Kat approached, keeping her eyes slightly down - the raiders were very low ranking frees, but they were still frees.

"Greetings, sostus," Kat hailed, carrying a small plank and parchment to serve as a pad of accounts. "How fares the raiding?"

"Not a bad haul," Damsto remarked from behind a heavy barrel of rather acrid smelling cheese. "Hit a minor dwarf outpost, Sandcrystal or something like that, on the edge of the desert. We got lucky and picked off a supply caravan as it was coming in, so spider silk and cheese for all. What about your master? How's he doing?"

"The fass' work is proceeding well. As you can see, the foundations are nearly in place and we have cleared over half of the trees within the bowl. If we are fortunate, we may have something by spring of next year."

"Yeah yeah," snorted Utes, taking another swig. "Anyone would think you lot were dwarves, all this building d'smo. What have you got to trade?"

"Well, we have some obsidian goblets-"

"Hah! Green-skinned dwarves, I tell you! What happened to real goblin crafts, like weapons and hunting, eh?"

"And the tannery is being constructed," Kat continued patiently. Utes sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. "As you may have noticed, we have been stockpiling d'smo in buckets for future use. Now, shall we trade?"

From the notes of Kat Arstrukagsmong:
17th Limestone, 201

Traded some of the mugs for supplies, sent several back as downpayment on labour purchases. We will need more smanges to complete the work. A dedicated butcher and tanner would be very useful.

3rd Sandstone, 201

The Fass came in from hunting today, smouldering and battered, dragging some sort of tiny daemonic entity from the fire hole. We've assigned the imp to butchering, but I took a little time to study the Fass' injuries. She seems to have suffered some spinal bruising and did not take the news well, as my cheek will attest. I am uncertain what this bodes for the camp's future.

7th Sandstone, 201

We found the Fass' body today, or what remained of it. I have forbidden an effort to reclaim it at present. From what we could tell, the Fass was chasing a fox during a hunt and was waylaid by two of the imps, who breathed gouts of flame at her. To her immense credit, it appears she broke the neck of one before the other cindered her, but that whole area is a danger and threat for now.

We have no Fass, which bodes equally ill. Under Togu law, we now revert to ownership of the Temple. The traders have agreed to pass a message back to the fortresses regarding our position, so we await the arrival of our future masters with care.

The State of Hateslaughter

8th Sandstone, 201

Usbu crested the hill, gazing over the valley at the fortress foundations being laid out in the bowl below. Behind her, her two amsmanges carried their burdensome packs of metalworking tools whilst behind them the lesser smanges trailed with the remainder of the supplies. She raised an eyebrow, however, at the plume of smoke coming from the nearby hillside. Something had apparently started a brushfire.

From the notes of Kat Arstrukagsmong:
9th Sandstone, 201

We prayed for guidance today at the rude shrine and it seems we were answered. A great pillar o smoke rose from the spot where Osta died, and soon thereafter a new Fass arrived with many more smanges to pick up the workload, including two metalworkers. He has agreed to take us up, provided the Temple issues no objections. The traders have been informed of this development and will delay the call for a new Fass.

Iituem · « **Reply #12 on:** April 10, 2009, 05:57:50 am »

From the notes of Usbu Smobaxmu:
10th Sandstone, 201

Glacies flipped out today and started beating the crap out of Kat. It seems there have been some food shortages here lately, and the uncertainty brought about by the death of their Fass has thrown the smanges into disarray. I had best assert authority here quickly.

17th Sandstone, 201

Too late. That foolish smang slew one of my amsmanges, Utes, with a log. I am ordering him castrated and the remanants burned in sacrifice to Uslot as a warning to the others. I would sacrifice him entirely, but we need all the hands we can get.

18th Sandstone, 201

One of the smanges attempted to butcher one of the imps today. It seems they store their heat in their fat reserves. The zostosmang assures me that his face will scar over nicely in time. The new butcher's shop will be constructed out of stone, rather than wood.

26th Sandstone, 201

Someone has left a deer corpse in my bed. I have no idea why.

27th Sandstone, 201

Glacies has gone incurably insane and started trying to kill people left, right and centre with his pick, screaming about the arrival of the 'sun god'. The first togu he ran into was one of the woodcutters, Scuba, who happened to be carrying his axe. I will take care of this personally.

From the notes of Kat Arstrukagsmong:
28th Sandstone, 201

So we need a new Fass again. Glacies took her and one of the smanges out before he headed for the woods. Scuba was able to escape with the distraction the Fass provided, but this is becoming intolerable.

3rd Timber, 201

Glacies' kill count increased with one more unnamed smang before he was finally taken down by the woodcutter Song. May his troubled soul find its way back to Uslot's comforting flame.

Katsuun · « **Reply #13 on:** April 10, 2009, 06:10:30 am »

This fortress appears to be cursed. I approve.

Iituem · « **Reply #14 on:** April 10, 2009, 09:01:39 am »

17th Timber, 201

Continuing morale issues. Fortis smashed up the table in the shrine out of grief for Glacies' rampage and subsequent death. We're all strained right now, so I've held his punishment in abeyance for the moment and had it replaced with an obsidian altar. We'll pull through this.

28th Timber, 201

It doesn't look like we're getting a new Fass any time soon, so I've moved into the Fass' quarters and am mandating bunks for the smanges. If we don't do something about the morale issues, this whole fortress will collapse in on itself before we get a new leader.

16th Moonstone, 201

With the barracks full of bunks, dried meat rations stored away and plenty of bones for the lean times, it looks like we're back on track with this fortress. The waterways are nearly dug out, so work has begun in earnest on manufacturing the mechanical side of things. On cue, the raiders have returned with their spoils - we may be able to trade our erstwhile comrades' belongings for additional supplies. Waste not, want not, that's the togu way.

17th Moonstone, 201

It turned out the old Fass had a pair of giant spider silk gloves. We pawned them off to the raiders for most of their stock and are good for food and supplies for a while now.

8th Obsidian, 201

Things are running like clockwork, albeit rusty clockwork oiled primarily with blood. The floodgates for the drainage system are being installed and all the access tunnels are now in place.

1st Granite, 202

A full year has passed since our arrival, we've changed leadership once and lost it twice and have over the course of affairs lost nearly a third of the crew to madness and its effects. The irony of this whole situation is that this could equally mean Uslot's approval or His rejection. Possibly a side effect of worshipping a sadistic bastard like that. It might be an idea to plan for an expansion to the temple in the future.

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Author Topic: Hateslaughter [Goblin Dark Fortress] (Read 3389 times)

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