Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

Yes, I read it when it updates!

Yes, I've read/am reading it all the way through!

[Keita]

What god is Gigin?

Also keep up the exelent work, you've compeled me to write my own stuff, when I'm a lot better at dwarf fortress anyway =P

[Iituem]

Goddess of Fortresses, Minerals and War.  I've added the full worship list to the first post of the thread for convenience.


There is currently a buffer of about 7,000 words written.  I have an exam Thursday, so time is (futilely) being spent revising.  The buffer ensures updates for the next few days, but it also drives me slightly mad in that I can't actually play DF until more has been posted, so as not to get too far ahead where things like character requests are concerned.

[Keita]

how do you see what gods you dwarfs have?

exams suck but luckly I passed mine alright    but I do have to retake english language again which sucks

[Kel the Oblivious]

Hehe, awesome, medicine dwarf. Profile needs more "In constant state of inner fury" but otherwise I like it. 

Journal of Kel Ragebrew, Slate 20th 353, inscribed on a chalk slate, penned in crushed plant ink.

I wander what sorts of plants this place has. I know there are some useful, tasty ones, the others just don't know how to find them. They see a bush and think "Kindling" I see a bush and think "Are the roots edible? Does it bear fruit? When do the flowers bloom and what carries pollen for them?" Little matter, they have an effective farm plot system, and firecaps are plentiful, although the small lass who tallies everything seems obsessed with using them as our method of currency. More effective then coin, I believe. You can't eat a sack of coins in the wilderness when you get lost. Nor can you use coins to spice your dinner. She is ahead of her times, just needs to work out the kinks.

Beginning to run out of plants from the swamp. I will see if the seeds can grow here. A few buckets of water, a few of fresh earth, and a slight indent in the ground so rain doesn't wash it away, and I should be able to make a nice little garden for myself. Wouldn't want this fine folk to miss out on what I have seen. The only problem is I need a pick so I can put it just below ground but open to the sky. Perhaps I can bribe one of the miners with some fine gut rot. After so long of only glow wine, I am sure one of them would be willing to take me up on the offer.

Oh well. It seems one of the masons has finished being mad and created a truly wonderful piece of art. A scale replica of Mountainhome, to be used as a cabinet. His choice of stone I dislike. Could the mad one not have rushed out and taken a slab of the magnanite just down the hill? No matter, it pleases the eye to stare upon it. However, the zealotous speech coming from him worries me. We already have one cult forming, we do not need more. Maybe I say so because the gods have never touched my life. No... Not the gods. Something much older...{The rest of the tablet is covered in strange designs, which began scribbling off onto the walls.}

[Fortis]

This is a very interesting read.

I'd like to join, please. I'll take a farmer. Name him Fortis, if he's male, or Fori if she's female.

[Iituem]

28th Slate, 353

"More brandy?" offered Emerin, tilting the jug over Ragna's mug.  The captain gave an agreeable nod and Emerin poured a little more of the bronze liquor into the vessel.  She leant back into her chair and placed the jug on the desk, picking up her own mug.

"I wanted to commend you and your dwarves on dealing with the goblin raid last month," she said.  "You all did yourselves proud."

"Thank you," accepted Ragna.  "The dwarves are in good spirits, though Goden took too hard a blow to the head during sparring.  He's training with Broose now.  A more than proficient axedwarf before it happened, so he needs fear no ridicule."  Emerin nodded in agreement.  Loksvig had mentioned once about the stigma attached to marksdwarves who'd simply failed basic training and had to be assigned to the bowsquads without even seeing battle.

"You all showed solidarity, leadership and direction.  The community needs that."

"We have you to thank for that.  I know it's been difficult for you, for all of us, but you've kept this place together.  After Dodok's death, people looked to you for leadership and you were there."

"That's actually the issue," explained Emerin, averting her eyes.  "I won't be."

"What?"

"The wagon's nearly finished, captain.  I'm getting on it when it is and I'm leaving."

"You're abandoning us?" asked Ragna, a cool steel edge to her voice.

"No, no," muttered Emerin, waving her hand and not daring to look at the dwarf opposite.  "If any others want to leave, I'll take them with me, and if there are too many then we'll get more lumber and make more, like we said.  It's just that..."  She took a breath.  "I don't think any of you want to."

"Pardon?" asked Ragna, the steel remaining in her tone.  Emerin looked at her directly now, a hint of red at the edges of her eyes.

"Look, I've seen how people react to the announcements about the wagon.  Lukewarm responses, as if they agree it's a good thing but it's not for them.  I'm afraid that if I call out for people looking to leave, all of you will just shove your hands in your pockets and pretend you didn't hear me!"

"All of 'you'?  All of us, Emerin."

"You know what I mean," said Emerin dismissively.

"Yes, I do," pressed Ragna, not letting this go.  "With you it's always been 'them and us', 'us' and 'the migrants'.  You're polite, you're diplomatic and you work hard, but you don't really connect, Emerin.  The dwarves out there, the ones that marched miles across a desert to find you?  They - we are your people, Emerin.  We chose to follow you.  You're still clinging to a dream where it's just seven dwarves trying to get out of the desert, and that's just not the case any more."

"It's the only dream I have!" moaned Emerin.  "You chose to follow me?  I didn't choose to lead you!  This all got thrust upon me!  You want to know how this started?  A week after we crashed here, the seven of us were gathered around the boat one evening rationing out the glow wine and Broose suddenly asked who we were taking orders from.  Dani said she'd take them from anyone who made sense, Fath said he'd go along with anything and Frey started demanding why we should have someone giving the orders anyway.  Next thing I know, Frey and Broose are practically at each other's necks over the issue and I just snap and tell them both that if they're going to act like children, I'd give the orders and they could bloody well follow them.

"Then they did!  I can't believe they actually did, but from then on I was stuck with this whole mission of getting us out of here, of trying to get everything in order.  It wasn't so bad at first.  Everyone chipped in, there were only seven of us to look after, but then suddenly you- I mean, you and the dwarves you travelled with all joined us and people were looking to me for real leadership.  Now I have files, and a desk, and an office.  This is not my life, Ragna!  All I wanted was to get out of gaol, get to a little coastal town somewhere and find one of my retirement caches.  That was the plan.  Get out, get hold of a stash and it'd be wine and jam from then on.  I did not ask to be made leader of some gods-damned camp in the middle of a barren desert!"

"You did not ask," said Ragna evenly, her voice softening, "but you took up the mantle anyway.  I find it fits you better than you imagine."  Emerin sighed and cradled her head in her hands.

"I don't want it.  My job was to get us, the seven of us, out of here.  I can finish that job, at least.  When the wagon is done, we'll be getting on it.  The camp is yours.  You and everyone who stays.  You built it, you've earned it.  There's more than enough scope here to survive on your own."

"Nothing I say will make you change your mind on this?"

"No, but I understand why you try.  I promised you a future here, Ragna, and I've done everything I can to ensure it.  I never promised you I'd be a part of that future."  Emerin ran her hands through her hair and looked up.  "Do me this last favour?  Ask around, see if anyone wants to leave - really wants to leave.  If they do, tell them to be at the marketplace the day the wagon is prepared to join on the woodcutting expedition.  I won't doom anyone to stay here that doesn't want to."

"Aye, I can do that."  Ragna drained her mug and stood up.  She drew her sword and saluted with it.  "It's been an honour, ma'am."

"Yes, well," blushed Emerin.  "I'm not gone yet.  You're, uh, dismissed, Captain.  Good luck."

"Also to you, ma'am.  Also to you."

Emerin watched the captain as she left, then looked down at the desk before her.  She picked up the ancient mural from the caverns and regarded it, deep in thought about the future.

[Aldaris]

It's great up to now, and I'd like a dwarf, please.

I'm not sure abot the choise, so I'll let you pick the one that fits in best, either

'Mincewind'
job: Kook. (Yes, with two 'K's)
gender: Whetever
Crime: multiple charges of attempted poisening, 4 charges of succesful poisening

Concept: Basically Discworlds rincewind only in cook form, never managed to pass guild exams, and is therefore banned by law from calling homself 'Cook' hence the second K. Is famous for being able to make even the very air taste terrible.

Personality: Hopefull coward, always hoping that running away today will allow him to keep on running away tommorow. Likes to stay away from interesting situations, and especially hates to figure in stories. He always ends up in them anyway.

OR

'The Foreman'
gender: whatever is available.
job: Miner/something administrative.
Crime: Convicted for none, but fled from both the war and the law because he was being tried for impersonating officers of the duke, giving false mining orders that caused undisclosed amounts of damage within a number of caverns under the hammerers quarters that officially don't exist.

Personality: Wahtever fits backstory best.

[Iituem]

1st Felsite, 353

"It's done," called Pepta through the doorway to Emerin's office.  The former gem thief looked up and gave her a nod.

"I'll be along shortly," she said, feigning a smile.  "Best we gather up those who'll be going on this logging expedition."  Emerin watched Pepta leave, then finished penning the last lines of the note.  She left it on the desk as she packed the last of her belongings (as well as a few choice gems and one of Karana's studded amulets) into an oilskin bag, giving one last glance about the office.  It was strange to make an exit like this, but she'd made a hundred such exits before.

You never ran.  You always walked away, smiling and waving, and they never knew you'd left for good until you were gone.  Now, like a hundred sets of accomplices before them, she had to smile and wave for the camp.

She reflected on the beauty of the escape as she stepped out into the sun, where dwarves were already busy loading up the wagon, Broose sat waiting at the reins of the two horses tethered to it.  Everyone knew a logging expedition could last a few days, especially with desert trees so scarce.  It made sense to pack plenty of food and water for the journey, with spare just in case the wagon broke down.  Emerin had taken cares to ensure there would be plenty enough to get them through the desert and to the southern swamps without difficulty.  From there they could purchase supplies from the human border towns and make the rest of the journey to Kulettögum.  As she worked down towards the wagon, a number of dwarves waved to her cheerfully, fully expecting to see her back within a few days.  She waved and smiled in turn, turning years of practised people skills to use.  Emerin made her way to Captain Ragna, who stood near the wagon in full leather uniform, sword at her side.

"Where are the others?" she asked, puzzled.

"There are no others," Ragna informed her.  "I asked, I was answered.  Nobody is interested in leaving.  Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone of your plans."

"I can't believe that," protested Emerin.  "Surely some must have wanted to leave, to move on.  It's dwarven nature for there to be dissidents in every crowd."

"That's true but I think you swayed all of them over nearly a month and a half ago, back in the cave.  They're staying because of you.  You gave them hope for this place, even if you can't yet find it yourself.  I thank you for that, ma'am."  Emerin stood speechless, a gnawing dryness at the back of her throat.  She turned from Ragna without another word, clambering onto the wagon.  Loksvig was faithfully enough waiting in the back.  Emerin walked over to Danielle, Fath, Urgash and Frey, stood at the edge of the crowd and looking up at the wagon.

"You coming, then?" she asked.

"Not today," said Frey.  "Think we'll be good here for a bit longer."

"What?  What are you talking about?  This is what we've worked for, guys.  This is our ticket out of here."

"Yes," said Urgash sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, "that's sort of the thing.  I wanted to start a dog farm and, well, I've got one here.  Forty two dogs now."  He shrugged helplessly, offering a sad little smile.

"And I wanted to get a town on the firecap exchange," added Danielle.  "Only I realised that we're already on the firecap standard here.  If I stick around, maybe I can make it stick."

"And you, Fath?" asked Emerin, hardly believing her ears.

"Truth be told, lassie," sighed Fath, his bushy red eyebrows furrowing, "my heart's not into gan' back to the homelands.  I've got my workshop here, I can work on the things that are important and, well, I'm accepted.  It's like yon said, lassie.  We have friends here.  People who accept us for who we are.  I'm getting on in years, and I just don't think I could take the stress of havin' to make my connections all over again.  I'm sorry, lassie.  I'm sure you'll do well, but it's just not for me."  Emerin turned to the last of the four in shock.

"You too, Frey?  What's keeping you here?"

"Nothing particularly," admitted Frey in his usual easy tones.  "I mean, I do have the mine here, but I can start a mine anywhere.  I suppose you could say that there isn't anything taking me anywhere else.  Besides, I have someone to wait for here."

"Who?" asked Emerin.  Frey pretended not to hear her and continued.

"No, Emerin, we're good here.  You go on ahead.  There's a whole world for you out there, and you've fulfilled your promises now.  Go find that future of yours."  Frey smiled at her and waved.  For some reason Emerin couldn't bring herself to smile back, fleeing to the wagon instead and giving Broose a choked command to drive.  The blonde axedwarf nodded curtly and whipped the horses forward, driving the wagon out of the camp to the cheer of the crowd.  As the wagon drove away Emerin felt a deep wrenching in her gut, as if something had been torn out and left behind.

[Jim Groovester]

Will Emerin be gone for good? I can invent several reasons for her to come back, but I likewise can invent several for her to stay away.

So I'm wondering, how will you manage the three departing dwarves in game?

[scuba]

hmmmmm*thinks really hard* they could be killed in game until an immigration wave where they had found all these dwarf while cutting wood. and they do come back with wood. but i dont know how he would do that

[Iituem]

2nd Felsite, 353

Emerin awoke to a distinctive sensation that something had gone wrong.  For one thing, the wagon had stopped.  For another, it was tilted to one side.  She clambered out of the wagon to find Broose and Loksvig sat by the dipped corner, inspecting a wheel in the sand.  It appeared to have broken off the axle and a series of tools lay stretched out on the sand as they tried to figure out what to do about it.  Broose was experimenting with roping the wheel back on with twine.

"Figures we'd break down half a day into the desert," muttered Broose.  "Gonna be a while before I can make any headway with this, so make yourself comfortable."  Emerin rolled her eyes and sat down on the sand next to them.  She watched in silence as Broose fiddled with the rope, periodically asking Loksvig to lift the corner of the wagon so he could try and fix it on, then taking it back off and fiddling some more.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" she asked eventually.

"What?" grunted Broose.  "'course we did.  Got out of a bleedin' desert hole, nothing to complain about there.  We'll have this fixed and be on our way in no time."

"You set on that guard job at Kulettögum, then?" she asked.

"Aye, whatever," grunted Broose, focused on the wheel.

"You were a guard back at the camp, though."  Broose ignored her and kept working.  "Why Kulettögum?" she pressed.  "Why not just try and make it back there?"

"Why Nist Akath?" snapped Broose harshly, turning towards her.  "You're the one who wanted to get out, pursue a life in an icy hole on the other side of the world.  Why chase your dream there?  Why didn't you stick around?"

"I..."  Emerin faltered.  She couldn't think of a response.

"We couldn't give up," Loksvig answered for her.  "None of the three of us could.  Fath and Urgash, fair enough, they're able to find contentment.  Danielle did have the firecap situation how she wanted.  Frey... surprised me, staying.  I hadn't thought him the type to give up.  We couldn't, though."

"What are you talking about?" said Broose.

"We survived in a desert hole for two years.  We didn't go mad, we didn't kill each other, we got our heads down and worked to survive and we kept working because we had a goal; getting out and getting free.  If we'd have given up on that dream, we wouldn't have made it.  We wouldn't have been able to push ourselves like we did, carved a home out of practically nothing but barren rock and spite.  Now we're here, we've got to our goal and we're finding that maybe it isn't what we really wanted.  Thing is, we can't give up even now.  We have to see this through to the end just because we're too bloody-minded to do otherwise."  Broose stared at him for a few moments, then started working on the wheel again in silence.

"Broose, I-" Emerin began.

"Look," the axedwarf muttered, "let's just work on getting the damned wheel fixed.  Gods, I wish we had a decent carpenter on hand."

"Maybe they do," said Loksvig.  "Look!" 

He pointed to the distance, where a long trail of dwarves were marching across the sand.  Emerin leapt up and began waving to them.



"...quite fortunate we ran into you," one of the dwarves was saying as another dwarf finished jury-rigging the axle.  "Kivish here happens to have been apprentice to a master wheelwright before the war."

"We're very grateful for the assistance," smiled Emerin, "and once again you're welcome to some of the food in our stocks."

"Boss," said the dwarf Kivish, looking up from the axle, "this'll hold, but not for more than a day or so.  They're going to have to replace the part."  The dwarf tutted and shook his head.

"That's a shame.  Still, you folks are welcome to come along with us, we're nearing the end of our journey anyway.  Heard tell there's still a place out here that isn't under Queen Atis' rule, so we're heading there.  You want to join us?  Sure they'll have a part for you there."

Emerin glanced back at the pair behind her.  Loksvig wore an expression of bemused irony.  Broose glowered, muttering to himself.  Eventually he threw up his hands with a grunt of exasperation.

"Fine!" he growled.  "At least there are drinks there."  Emerin turned to the dwarf with her most charming smile.

"We'd be glad to."



3rd Felsite, 353

As the wagon and retinue of migrants approached the low walls of the camp, a pair of figures strode out to meet them.  The captain drew her sword and saluted whilst Frey merely gave a polite nod, wearing the same knowing, easy expression he had worn when the wagons had left.

"Hail!" cried the migrant leader, who had sat up front of the wagon with Broose and Emerin.  "My name's Urnriddled, and we've come far in search of this desert camp.  Who might you be?"

"Captain Ragna Stockadebow," called the captain, not taking her eyes from Emerin.  "Well met, master Urnriddled."

"Are you in charge here?"

"Nay," replied Ragna.  "That would be the Mayor."  Urnriddled nodded and looked to Frey.  Emerin blinked in surprise at the development.

"What say you, then?" asked Urnriddled.  "May we join your community?"

"Why," Emerin muttered, "you scheming, conniving little-"

"I don't know," interrupted Frey jovially.  "Let's ask.  Mayor Emerin Claspfocus, what say you then?" 

Emerin's complaints dried up in the face of bewilderment.

"What are you-  When did you-" she stammered.

"The village - and begging your pardon Lady Mayor, we are a village now - held a vote in your absence.  It was agreed that given your leadership of the community in the last year and the general will of the villagers, you should be the first."

"But you can't-  I mean, I can't-"

"I believe Urnriddled asked a question." 

The migrant dwarf turned to Emerin with a smile of pleasant surprise and an expression of hope in his eyes.  Emerin sighed first, then burst into laughter.  Outmaneuvered again!  If she were a more pious dwarf she might imagine it the hand of Fate, but she could see well enough the glint in Frey's eye and it took little imagination to picture the studied intents of the savant Danielle as well.  She gestured with her hands in surrender and smiled warmly to the dwarf beside her, offering him her hand.

"Welcome to the village, Urnriddled.  You and all of yours."


End Chapter Two

[scuba]

very nice. i wonder who tampered with the wheel*hides his wood splintered pick *

[Fortis]

Heh, a nice turn of events. I'm looking forward to see where this will go.

Um, if you do accept my character, should I go ahead and make a backstory for him?

[Keita]

Iituem has gained experience

Iituem has become a Legendary Bard

love it, awesome story telling, keep it up

[Iituem]

Chapter Three:  The Six Shrines

Emerin's Log
10th Felsite, 353

It's been a solid week of meetings, administration and legwork getting everything in order.  Twenty two migrants!  Twenty two!  There's even a child in the mix now.  With fifty-five people now in the village we really do need a Mayor's office.  I've upgraded Ragna's position from sherriff to captain of the guard, though we don't really have a guard as such yet.  The captain can still just about keep people in line on her own and we need all the hands we can get hauling.  I'd rather not put our current militia onto guard duty, either.  We need a quickly responsive team when it comes to an attack - I don't want our armed forces with their minds split between solving crimes and defending the village.

With everyone's hands busy on the burial site and the Nishan chapel we haven't really been able to get much expanded on the residential side of things.  Loksvig suggested that with public opinion being rather high at the moment and with a fair few 'firecaps' in gemstones stowed away I might be able to pass planning permission for a set of mayoral apartments.

I'm not settling down.  That's not me, I know that.  Still, this mayor gig's a yearly thing, and maybe I could do with laying low for a year or maybe two or three whilst the rest of the world forgets about old Emerin Claspfocus (or Urist Stonesalves, or Likot Burntether, or Kol Steelbright...).  There's perks to the job (I can make sure of that!) and there are worse places to hide out in, though it strikes me as bizarre that I can say that, given the location.  If I'm going to stick around I may as well make myself comfortable, right?


12th Felsite, 353

The ironworks is still non-functional, though Ousire is busy enough smelting down the iron from the squad of goblins that killed Dodok.  I've ordered a set of goblets forged by the end of the year, to give their deadline a more concrete focus.  If we're really lucky, Fath might even get some brass gears into the deal.




15th Felsite, 353

Kel Ragebrew ran through the caverns, sibilant whispering dogging his heels.  At the edges of his vision vague brown markings covered the walls but he paid them no heed, fixated on the febrile twilight emanating from a distant cave.  Kel reached the base of a great mound, falling to his knees and clambering up the filth-covered rocks toward his goal.  He climbed faster, the whispering behind him growing closer and louder, joined with the scrabbling of unseen claws and the shifting of pebbles.  In a last effort, Kel pulled himself up to the mouth of the cavern, bathed in jaundiced light and caught but a glimpse of the horrors within before all was drowned in screams.


Kel sat bolt upright in his bunk, sweat dripping from his brow.  He cast a wayward glance to the small copper still resting by the base of the bed, then around at the other bunks.  No other dwarves had woken, it seemed.  Rubbing his temples he tried to clear his head and began searching for the chalk slate he used as a diary.  In an effort to focus on other things he considered the efforts he had made to grow some of his swamp plants, to little avail.  He was fine at identifying such herbs but little use at growing them.  The far door to the communal bunks opened and there was a snatch of conversation from the Beerhall's common room.  Kel spotted one of the farmers, Fora, then cast an eye back upon the little copper still as an idea came to him.



---------

'Fora', I'm afraid, due to a shortage of non-married farmers.  Feel free to make up a backstory and indeed write in character posts.  I actually had a rather different subplot in mind for Kel, but that post has caused it to take a rather divergent direction to the original intent which should tie nicely in with all the other things going on.