(OOC) I've wanted to do this since I ever got my hands on Dwarf Fortress, but I've never had a real theme to go off of. Now I have a story thought out*, and so I thought, "Why the hell not?" I might add some community elements to this later on, but I want this to really be a story, with a clear, arcing plot. But it's still possible.
*not a guarantee
PS, If you get the Lovecraft reference, you get ten cool points.
List of free, nameable dwarves. "Open to change" means open to suggestion for a new career along with a name.
Female, Clerk
Female, Fishery Worker (open to change)
Male, Engineer (open to change)
Male, Ranger (open to change)
Male, Craftsdwarf (open to change)
Male, Farmer
Male, Tanner
Female, Carpenter/Bowyer
Female, Jeweler
Male, Miner
Male, Craftsdwarf (open to change)
Male, Carpenter (open to change)
Female, Jeweler (open to change)
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From the journal of Lorbam Oslanid, Expeditionary Leader and Commander of the Koganustan Reclamation Operation; 4th Granite, 406As I write this, I am surrounded by the stench of rotting flesh and stale air. The odd nature of our situation utterly baffles me. What could have done the things we have seen? Was this some odd quirk of chance, or something more sinister? I don't know if I should ever find an answer to this grim scene, but I know the enigma of it will gnaw at me until the ends of my days. Perhaps if I search my past, I might find some better grip on the situation.
It was only five years ago the team of settlers set out for Koganustan. It was not long before merchants came back from their rounds ecstatic and full of stories of mountains teeming with riches, where gold and platinum laid bare on the cliffs and fell from their perches like eggs from swallow's nests. I, being a simple guard at the time, at first paid little heed to such things as I thought mere tall tales. But more and more as time went by, the caravans began bringing back whole fortunes of gold, and they all cited the same place as the source of their goods.
All Dalzatesmel was gripped with the entrancing yarns of a bountiful paradise of mythical proportions. Migrants clawed for a chance to be sent to the Eden, songs were sung in the streets of the God's good will to the dwarves and of a new golden age of prosperity. This went on for some time.
Then, last winter, when the first caravans were expected back, and all the Children scurried to the windows of their homes to perhaps catch a glimpse of the first trader to return with another load of masterfully crafted gold, a lone dwarf road into town atop a battered Muskox. His head was low, and his breathing ragged, and all the people he came across averted their gaze.
He rode slowly and unsurely into the great throne room, the guards avoiding him as they sensed no danger and did not wish to make contact unless such was a necessity. He made it to the golden door that lead to the great forum, where the king was holding counsel, and sprang from the worn animal and sprinted to the gold portal. The guards tried to hold him back, I one of them, but his frail form just bashed against the ground and the walls, screaming "The mountains are dead! The Gods have left us!
J'ajkahl Nu'rev'na!
J'ajkahl Nu'rev'na!"
He soon collapsed, and his breathing slowed. Two days later he was pronounced dead. He was identified as Subruk the trader.
The king ordered me and a contingent of the Dwarven Vanguards to see to what had caused Subruk to be so disturbed, him being a veteran of travel and having survived more than one Goblin massacre or Elephant stampede. The king, in his wisdom, sent us to the highest priority target, Koganustan. We traveled quickly, using roads paved by the Mountainhome for faster travel to the "City of Gold", as some called it.
We arrived in the Spring, great banners of crimson splayed all across the road, leading the way to the trade depot. One of the scouts we had sent forward to take a cursory examination of the area sprinted back to the temporary camp we had set up along a limestone ridge. He begged us to simply come to Koganustan, and would not say another word. We followed him down the road, his expression unreadable. We climbed over a detritus laden stairway, and came into the sight of the city.
It was one of the most odd things I'd ever seen in all my years. It was a mere single fort like construct, with unevenly colored walls and fortifications, but what was so strange was that all across the ground was littered clothing of all type and calssification. Hoods, cloaks, robes, shoes, trousers, pants, dresses, things of poor and masterful quality, all strewn across the rocks as if the Dwarves wearing them had simply evaporated mid step. One of my lieutenants, a Reg Ducimmomuz, quipped, "Ah, a true city of gold. One old fortification and what seems an untimely streaking contest."
Of course, it was only an entrance into the greater facility, but the comment drew much raucous laughter from the otherwise uneasy soldiers.
The Fort Entrance scene.We sortied forth into the greater complex, the attitude returned to the usual disciplined manner of the military. I personally lead the advance, and was the first to view the scene that leaves me so scattered and ill at ease.
We followed the stairs down into the entrance hall, a miasma pervading the air. We opened the doors of the meeting hall, and were greeted by a hall of rotting animal carcasses, insects devouring the liquidated eyes of Foals and Calves. Blood covered the entirety of the ground, in some areas pooling into dried flaking basins. Bones and gore were all that took residence in this "City of Gold".
A curse upon this town. This is no place for the living, this is a city of death.
Author
Topic: Koganustan - The Mountains of Madness (Read 1612 times)