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Yes, I read it when it updates!

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

[Jim Groovester]

oh dont worry man, its totaly cool to just totaly ignore my requests about my dwarf's job. >_> and not even give me the requested one as a side task or whatever. i want to be the one who starts olonkulet on its path to batshit engineering! probably would work together with the dude thats making caculators and stuff

I think Loksvig should have a big part in turning Olonkulet into a technological terror, since Maggarg is the one who came up with the idea of Olonkulet in the first place. And Fath. You know, the two dwarves already doing mechanical machinations.

[Kanute]

Ousire, there doesn't really seem like the fortress has a need for mechanisms, and by association mechanics, at the moment. With the massive influx of migrants and lack of desire to despoil the depths of the earth, seems like massive aboveground construction of housing complexes will be preferentially made. There really doesn't seem to be much dwarfpower to derail from the essentials of the fortress, from what I've gathered.

[ousire]

speaking of which, why exactly are we building up again?

[Jim Groovester]

To conserve the mountain and its resources.

"No, not dig in," murmured Danielle.  "Build up."  If the dwarves had been stunned at Frey's suggestion, they were outright shocked at Danielle's.

"Look at the Mountainhomes," she insisted.  "The old town we went through, the way it was abandoned like that when the veins dried up.  The heavy swathes cut through the mountains with no regard for either aesthetic or nature.  Don't look at me like that!" she snapped at Broose.  "I know what you're thinking.  This all sounds Elvish.  Well, the Elves are nutters and we all know it, especially over things that grow back with time.  Mountains don't grow back.  What sort of future are we going to leave for our children?"

[Iituem]

Kanute pretty much has it on the nose here.  There is no mechanical work going on at the moment that would call for Ousire (I've got her slated for the labour when it comes up), but there is plenty of smelting.  Since she started with furnace operation as her immigrant skill, it's a better use than leaving her to do nothing but haul while we wait for the mechanical side of things to really kick in.


Right now the mechanics team consists of Fath, Loksvig and optionally Karana and Ousire, since those were all the requested mechanics.  The problem is that Karana got a gemcutter artefact and ended up becoming a holy dwarf, and Ousire is the most capable smelter in town.  They do still work mechanics when it comes up and I'll try and write that in as it happens.


I don't ignore requests, but the mechanics of the game can make it difficult to fit them in easily and sometimes take the story in different ways.


Jim has it on the reasoning, plus for the sake of aesthetics and facility.  It might not seem like it, but it is a lot easier for me to build a mechanical deathtrap up than it is dig one down, especially if I make a mistake.  You can deconstruct walls, you can't deconstruct caverns.


To ease your worries though, Chapter 4 is when the mechanical side of things starts kicking in as Olonkulet is forced into it by necessity.  I'll make sure requested mechanics get work on that.

[Iituem]

Vignette: Waiter in the Dark
8th Obsidian, 353

The completion of the Deleran shrine was a quiet, unadorned affair, a stark contrast to the fanfare of the Nishan chapel's construction, or the riotous feasts of the Nakasians.  Two simple diorite statues adorned the polished stone dome, a pair of male dwarves with bowed heads and hands in prayer.  A handful of dwarves stood by as the last statue was shifted into place and had failed to notice the troubadour in the shadows til she shook alive the thin glass glowbulbs and began to strum a sombre tune upon an obsidian lute, strung with brass wires.  After a couple of bars and without any prompting she began to sing.

In the days before when the world was young, When the copper fortress blazed like the sun, A rich Dark Wand'rer returned from the East, Her sister rejoiced and ordered a Feast. To the fest'val came two brothers of Tin, A copper-toned jew'l, the warrior Gigin, To celebrate Nish's return with proof Of lands to the East and also a Truth: The secret of godhood, the spark divine, Baked into Nakasian dishes so fine That each one was raised to the heights of grace, Reborn and renewed, emboldened by faith. The price of their rising was one quite dark, The lands were made barren, the world left stark And empty - save those who had risen so, Tasked with the fate of renewing the world. "Deler!" cried Onol, "We shall remake dwarves, Forge them from ir'n from the mountain's own source!" "Nay," said Deler, "Not so soft are our sons, Forge them anew from an alloy of bronze!" Deler and Onol, they fought for the right To remake the dwarves; it came to a fight! Onol dug iron from veins 'neath the earth, Breathed it to life and brought about its birth. So Deler and Zas together joined will, Mixed copper and tin, a cast they did fill. Bronze dwarf and ir'n dwarf together did clash, The latter's soft hide was easily smashed By the hardness and strength of bronze's might. It seemed that the bronze dwarf would win the fight When Gigin from Onol received a bribe And gave the ir'n dwarf a drink to imbibe: Made from charcoal and flux and molten flame And on drinking it the dwarf rose again. Strengthened by war-fire, no pain did he feel, The dwarf won the battle, forged now from steel. Deler cried out - a terrifying sound - His tin became oil, he sank to the ground. Zas became wounded and fled to the night, A creature of dreams beyond mortal sight. Onol's own tin grew brilliant as silver, Built Gigin a fortress with his skill for The debt he owed; and Nakas a tavern, While Deler called from a midnight cavern; "Onol, you give the dwarves gifts of life, Gigin, you then fill those lives with your strife, Nakas, respite will your revelry give, Guided by Nish in wealth they will live, But sins to jewelled dark dreams they'll confess And here in the dark I'll take them at death." So it was that the pantheon was made Here to remain 'til the world at last fades. Here in the depths we'll remember truth stark, Live life in light!  Deler waits in the dark.

[Sphalerite]

This is a masterfully crafted story.  It menaces with spikes of awesome and is decorated with hanging rings of win.

[Boksi]

:3

The fifth line of the ninth verse is awkward, but that's maybe 4% of the whole song, so it's nitpicking.

The song is good.

[Iituem]

Yeah, rhyming someone called 'Onol the Tin Silver' is a pain.  I hate iambic pentameter so much, but it's Vigdis' given speech scheme.  -.-

Thank goodness the civ didn't gen a deity called 'Likot the Brokenness of Orange'.

[Boksi]

Maybe you might want to try a ferskeytla? It's a dwarven style if I ever saw one.

It's four lines of alternating seven and six syllables. They rhyme, although there is no set pattern for which lines rhyme with which. Two words in the seven-syllable lines alliterate with either the first or sometimes the second syllable of the six-syllable line below it. Here's an example:

Hann er gamall glaður kall,
gramur er hann sjaldan.
Kallinn drekkur drullumall,
drykkinn fær sér kaldan.

It's a style popular with the vikings of yore, so as I said it's very dwarven.

[ousire]

awsome song! very dwarfy, and it does the job of giving us all details on the gods of this world. (which one do i worship again?)
oh, and sorry for the crabby post before. it was late at night and i was in a funk at the time. its good to hear i shall be on the deathtrap making crew soon! (maybe we should re-name the jobs? instead of mechanic, trapmaster could be used!  )

and as an added bonus, i checked out the details on smelters on the wiki. you use them to make bronze! and if my memory serves, olonkulet was supposed to be surrounded by walls of bronze. i make some of the traps, and i can make the metal that shall surround the city of machines!

[Redhades]

Awesome ascii art as well. I am pleased.

[Kel the Oblivious]

Well, that bard deserves a warm meal and a strong drink for that one. Anyone got a few caps to pitch in on it?

[Iituem]

Vignette:  Moonlit Brass
11th Obsidian, 353

The dreams were changing. 


Jora opened her eyes and found herself in the Temple again.  Jewelled azure walls rose up around her, moonlight filtering through crystal and emerald glass in pools, highlighting the brilliant altar and chairs.  Stood upon a raised platform, the preacher spoke to her, garbed in indigo robes that flashed with hints of deep purple and glimmering violet and colours for which dwarves had no name, existing only within this distant realm.  She bathed herself in His words, rich with meaning but meaningless to her ears.  Garbled sounds she would later remember, but their intent and purpose were as clear as day.  She turned, catching in the corner of her eye mere glimpses of others she had seen in the light of day, their faces obscured by the shadows.

The preacher said something of moment and Jora's attention returned to Him, rapt and watchful, but He spoke no more.  Instead He gestured and as Jora turned to look the chamber around them shattered into clouds of billowing, shimmering jewelled dust, leading her on across an aethereal moonlit plain, the ghostly echoes of pebbles crunching beneath her feet.  She came upon a plain where seven brass pillars reached up to the sky, surrounding a statue of a dwarf.  The statue bore no clear distinctions, no fine detail or features that would distinguish it as any dwarf in particular; rather it embodied the idea or essence of a dwarf in moulded brass.  The brass icon and pillars shone brilliantly against the twilit and featureless plain, the pillars carved with runes as meaningful and unintelligible as the preacher's speech.  Jora stood and stared at the shrine for a time she could not measure, enraptured by its beauty and unknown significance.

The pillars fractured suddenly, splintering into shards of gleaming brass that flew away on a sudden, bitter wind.  The jewelled clouds scattered and the moonlight died, replaced by a cold cavernous roof and darkness.  Jora turned to face the darkness, the last splinters of brass flickering away into the abyss, wherein Jora could catch the faintest glimmers of what watched back.  She drew in a breath to scream when an indigo-gloved hand grabbed her shoulder.


Jora woke.

[Aldaris]

wow

just wow
punctuation cancels functioning interupted by sheer awesomeness

again wow