Hi. This is the story (and kinda community fort) of Laborpride. A fortress of dwarves who were exiled out of the mountainhome by their tyrant of a queen. They have been exiled to the ass end of the earth, a freezing cold glacier, with nothing but giant planes of ice in every direction. I have, more or less a set goal for the story to follow, but of course, some things in DF aren't predictable, and sometimes you're just along for the ride. I will do my best to share how the story unfolds from the point of view of Morul Likotlogem, the fortress's record keeper and clerk. I have opened up the fortress's dwarves to be claimed as a community fort, and will attempt to weave them into the story as much as possible, while still trying to do my best to keep the story focused and moving forward. There's lots of dwarves available, so just let me know who you want, what you want them to do, and I can make it happen (more or less)
Mistem kicked the door in while his partner, Zuglar watched, her crossbow at the ready, turning her head back and forth to peak down each direction of the long narrow hall. The door gave way to the stout dwarf's foot, and flew inward.
"Hazah!" Mistem shouted in victory as he conquered the rock door.
The room was lined with shelves, all covered with books. Papers where littered everywhere. A dwarf skeleton, wrapped tattered clothing was sitting in a chair at the desk, it's body hunched over a stack of papers. A bottle of ink was open, and a pen was close to it's hand. On the paper was written in large uneven writing, 'HunGrY... hUNgRy... hUngRy...'
"Well..." Zuglar piped up attempting to break the hollow silence that had flooded into the room like the bitter cold outside, "we found the bookkeeper's room." She tried in vein to hold in her lunch. The whole thing was a bloody mess. Nobody had heard from Laborpride for about five years now. Any trade caravans that had been sent never came back. For some strange reason the idiots kept coming hoping to make a profit, and none returned. Then one did come back from that icy hell hole, to report there was nobody there... not alive anyway. The mountainhome decided it was finally time to intervene, and after finally pushing back the tide in the goblin war, there was enough dwarf power available to properly investigate the fortress that Queen Urist used to exile those who spoke against her.
when their troop arrived, they found all sorts of death on the icy glacier surface, goblins, humans, elves, and dwarfs. The dwarfs where the worst, their frozen corpses huddled close together in large iron chambers, let to freeze to death. But all signs showed no enemy had been able to conquer the fortress, as the front doors were sealed tight, and the only way in was to dig their way in by pick. Whatever killed the fortress came from within... not from without.
Mistem had pushed the skeletal dwarf over and was now rummaging through the books and papers. Zuglar looked shocked at her partner. "What are you doing!?" she hissed as she rushed over to stop him.
"Did I tell you before I signed up I was a scribe for a trading caravan? I know my way around a bookkeeper's office," he replied without even looking at her. He was clearly searching for something in particular, and found it soon after in a far corner of the office. He pulled out a large, heavy, tightly bound tome that was almost as big as he was, and dropped it onto the stone desk with a loud thud. The rock almost buckled from the weight of it.
With Zuglar peering over his shoulder, Mistem flipped through the tome. "This history of the fortress," Mistem said to his quizzical partner, "most of the paper is blank of course, this fortress hasn't been around long enough to fill even a quarter of this tome." Nestled between the cover and the first pages was several pieces of scrap papers, some where tissue scrawled on with what looked like charcoal, many were stained and messy, but if one tried hard they could follow the script and read the writing within.
23rd Hematite, 300
Hello, I am Morul Likotlogem. If you are reading this I am probably dead, most likely by order of the queen. Please give word to my parents that I did not wish to end like this, and I truly attest to my innocence the date I have for this entry is only an estimate, as I am currently within the hospitality of her majesty's god forsaken dungeons. I was arrested on 14th Hematite, 300 under charges of conspiracy to commit treason, according to the marks on the wall I think 9 days have passed, although I am not completely confident upon this. One of the guards, whom I think has taken a liking to me, slipped me this bit of charcoal, and as you can clearly see, I'm scribbling this on a piece of tissue paper that was used to wrap my plump helmet biscuits.
I must now state my case for innocence, although I doubt that will matter should anybody read this paper, as I will most likely have rotted away by then. On the 14th of Hematite, 300 I having just returned from a rather successful trading trip with one of the forward fortresses, I had decided to enjoy the evening with my riches in a quiet tavern within the mountain home, tucked away from the bustle of the main caverns. As fate would have it, a young dwarf adult named Kib Oltaramith was there, and rabble rousing. His silver tongue really seemed to make sense to me at the time. It is true the young Queen has been handling the war with the gobbos quite poorly, with several fortresses being overrun by those green bastards, but worst of all was her recent alliance with elves in return for us never to cut down a tree for 5 years. The royal pain in the ass was really pushing the patience of the entire dwarven world with that decision.
Kib made his point, he seemed to know his stuff, and I started to agree with him, raising my mug of beer to the lad. But it seemed it was all a trap, as we spouted our feelings of the royal pain in the rump, the royal guards came running into the tavern, and well now, here I am, locked up in a cell for god knows how long, and I have no clue when I will ever get out.
10th Malachite, 300
Food has been coming regularly at least. I think the dungeon master is a bit sympathetic to me, he snuck in a mug of dwarven wine for me today, the kind bastard. It feels like ages since I last had a drop of alcohol, the stuff is bliss. He also slipped me some parchment, although it's a bit wrinkled, and a chunk of graphite I can chip away at to use to mark the stuff.
13th Malachite, 300
Her royal rump has finally decided to put us on trial. The whole thing is a sham. Convicting us of conspiracy to overthrow the throne? Right... I haven't seen these other five souls in my life before! Not exactly much of a conspiracy there... though I think Kib seems to know the other four fairly well. We didn't even have a chance to talk to each other, before a series of witnesses were brought forth, all seeing our many acts of depravity and how we all plan to overthrow the royal family. We were found guilty without a doubt by the royal court, and we shall be sentenced tomorrow by the queen herself. I am sure we will be executed by tomorrow evening. I hope somebody of importance gets these bits of paper and can right the wrongs of injustice brought down upon us by the queen.
14th Malachite, 300
The sentencing is in an hour. I know I am digging my own grave with this writing, but I have to now believe that this royal system is a complete sham. What right does somebody have to lead us just because they popped out from between the legs of another royal dwarf? This is completely ridiculous! With so many insane mandates, and demands, I hope that royal hag meets a lynch mob once our fellow dwarfs rise up against these injustices. I think back to Kib's speech often now. I remember it vividly, his proposals all make such perfect sense. A glorious new civilization lead by the people, for the people. The dwarf laborer should be of the utmost importance, not these over glorified lazy slobs known as nobles. Not to mention the backwards economy that seems to work about as well as a frozen river. We get meaningless gold coins for doing benign jobs, that get quickly snatched away if we want a decent place to rest our head, or if we want to eat something other than plump helmet, or drink something other than cloudy water that carp has been pissing in. We the dwarf people need to rise up and fight this tyrannical monstrosity, and clean ourselves of these wicked 'nobles' once and for all! Alas, I am helpless to do anything, already within the tight grips of the ruling class, and I go to my fate with my head held high, hoping that these papers will inspire others to do what I could not, and bring back justice for our people! I can hear the dungeon master coming, my fate awaits me. If these are my last written words, I wish all to hear them, and everybody to remember us as the martyrs we are. Me, Morul Likotlogem, the trader in the wrong place at the wrong time, Zib Oltaramith, our glorious speaker, and the fellows that were arrested with us: Iton Dumatkokeb and Olin Mengabir, miners. Kogan Usantosid, a stoneworker, and Asmel Oslanotsus, a farmer. Never let our names disappear into the night!
15th Malachite, 300
The spineless royal bitch couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to order the outright killing of another dwarf, although she pretty much gave us a near death sentence. Exile, we've been ordered to march North from the mountainhome, and not stop until the First of Granite in 301. A sixth month march... that will bring us close to the edge of the world, most likely reaching the northern glaciers... if we're lucky not to be killed by a goblin horde first...
This marks the end of what was written on random bits of paper, the rest is now written on the paper of the large Tome.18th Malachite, 300
Well they clearly wanted to get rid of us quickly, before word could get around. A wagon was loaded full of drinks and food, a few bits of supplies, and we were rushed off. An axedwarf from the military was assigned to us as our 'protection' although it is quite certain he is to make sure we don't attempt to stray from our exile. Kib seems to be in highs spirits as if he's won or something, and has declared that the 18th of Malachite should always be remembered as exile day. Even if we have to go to the coldest place on earth, we shall be free there. I am trying to share his optimism, but I know what lies ahead for us. A long slow trek through mountains, goblin keeps, and then the never ending sheets of ice. I shiver just at the thought. As you can see now I'm sure, tucked within the supplies was several books for record keeping, as is normal for a newly founded fortress. Since I'm the only person in this lot that knows his way around a book, I took them into my possession, and offered my services to Kib to be our record keeper. He seemed to be glad to have somebody like me around. He told me to record our journey for posterity, and to inspire those to come of our greatness.
28th Malachite, 300
The trek has progressed quite well, we have made our way out of the mountains and into the human inhabited planes. I rather like humans, they are pretty much like dwarves, only taller, and like to live outside. But mostly we share the same interests, we all like good booze, good food, and shiny toys. However no greetings from any humans we pass, all are quite scared, seeing as goblins have been attacking them as well as us. If it wasn't for our inept and dangerous hag of a queen, we would be pushing the goblins back to the icy hells they came from, and we would all have a wonderful peaceful world to live in. It is such a shame to see a fellow upright civilization cower in fear as they do.
2nd Galena, 300
We came across a half mutilated flock of cattle today. A human was found ripped to shreds amongst the poor creatures. A goblin made sword was half buried in it's back. Six of the beasts were not butchered on the spot by the green bastards. Kib decided to "claim them in the name of the people" and tied them to the wagon. Might as well, since the only person to miss them is in several pieces, spread around the grass. It is fortunate for us, as I know where we are going... food will be hard to come by.
18th Galena, 300
We are about half-way through the human lands now. This deep in human territory we are at least rather safe from any goblin attacks. Kib has been talking with our 'guard' a lot lately. Ineth is his name. I think he's trying to sway Ineth to our side, but Ineth is that right kind of stupid that is stubbornly loyal, and doesn't care about things like injustice or the right of the people, he just wants an ax, good armor, and something to attack.
20th Limestone, 300
Our journey continues to progress uneventful. Thank the gods. We are now exiting human territory, and are in the open wilds. The temperature is slowly getting colder as we make our way further north. I am starting to realize just how il-prepared we are for a cold climate. Most of us are just wearing thing cloth outfits.
14th Sandstone, 300
A goblin scout spotted us, but luckily for us, Ineth spotted him too, and quite happily tore the goblin into pieces. However this has proved how careful we need to be and to make sure we watch where we go from now on. Kib has ordered the miners to scout ahead and warn us if there are any threats on the horizon from now on.
21st Sandstone, 300
We narrowly avoided a large goblin patrol today. Olin spotted them heading our way, and quickly came to give us a warning. Thinking fast, the miners dug a small hole into a nearby hill. After moving the cart into the hole, we covered with with bushes and hid ourselves inside as well. The green idiots just walked by without even giving us a glance. The idiots. Kib did have to keep ineth from charging out to his death, the idiot would have gotten us all killed in some stupid glorious death.
1st Timber, 300
The days are starting to get short, and it's getting cold. It's late autumn and up north you can feel winter coming like a fierce hurricane. We are now dangerously close to a goblin tower. You can see it's black obsidian towering over the snow covered hills. Progress is slow as we often have to hide from goblin patrols.
4th Timber, 300
A strange sight to report today. Elves, fighting. I never thought I would see the day. Those tree hugging hippies ambushed a goblin patrol right in front of us. They seemed to spring out of nowhere, their bows launching a torrent of arrows at the enemy. Sure it was wood arrows... and most bounced right off the goblin armor, but still a few managed to hit their mark. The goblins and elves clashed, and both sides took heavy casualties. Ineth ran off to help, and Kib let him go. He racked up two kills as he met up with the goblins who were attempting to chase the fleeing elves. We didn't see the elves again, I assume the pansies decided to run home to their woods where they belong.
18th Timber, 300
The goblin tower is now safely in our rear. We haven't had to hide from a goblin patrol for several days now. Thank the gods, I think we might at least make it safely to our destination.
1st Moonstone, 300
Winter is here, and in all it fury, it unleashed a blizzard upon us on the first day. We are all huddling close together inside the wagon, hoping to the gods we don't freeze to death.
15th Moonstone, 300
Ice everywhere. It is all a giant world of ice, for as long as the eye can see. Frozen planes behind us is slowly getting smaller and smaller and being replaced with endless ice.
20th Moonstone, 300
More ice. One bit sticking up looked like a humorously shaped carrot.
1st Opal, 300
Ice. Ice. Cold. Cold. Ice. Ice. Cold. Cold. Ice. Ice. Cold. Cold.
17th Opal, 300
Can barely feel my toes. So very cold. Food is starting to get low. I fear we may have to slaughter one of the cows before our journey will finish.
28th Opal, 300
Per Kib's orders, we are rationing food until we make it to our settlement location. While Kib seemed to be unable to crack Ineth, it seems Olin the Miner somehow found a way to crack the dwarf's defenses. The two are often seen talking together. Maybe Ineth has a soft space for lady dwarves armed with picks...
18th Opal, 300
Something other than ice! Way off on the edge of the horizon, a tiny bit of rock has poked out of the glacier. Kib has announced that shall be our new home, and we are making are way towards it.
1st Granite, 300
We arrived at this tiny little outcropping of rock. Ice stretches in all directions, here we stand on a tiny island of rock amongst a sea of frozen ice. I fear for our future. Our food supplies are low, There is nothing here that can be used for sustainable farms... the only somewhat renewable source of food is hoping those cows and bulls all start getting really friendly with each other really soon... But we are here, we are free, and our glorious leader will keep us safe.
This is my story about a rebelling group of exiles sentenced to toil away in the icy glaciers. Their fate is indeed death, though when and how, is yet to be decided. I am debating if I should make this a community fort or not. If you guys are interested, then when migrants finally make their way along, I could see about assigning players to them.
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Topic: [story/community fort]The Exiles of Laborpride (Read 3276 times)