Recovery goes slow. Astesh and Rith received orders from me to make some crossbows and a couple wooden bolts and to wait for me to recover before we embark to the second level.
I was juggling with my shoes, trying to pass the time, when Astesh entered my room. I asked her what happened, fearing and invasion of giant bats or something that can come over our fortifications.
No, instead she reported migrants. Many migrants. I asked her how many. 21, she said. I was silent.
She then said she had opened the gates. Shocked I yelled at her to shut them, screaming about the gores. She insisted we could handle them.
Shocked by her defiance of my orders, but unable to do anything in my state, I told her to assemble the dwarves in my room.
The first thing I did was pronounce myself the the effective source of justice in this area. The second thing I did was send a few of the more useless characters outside to die (a jeweller, an animal caretaker and a trapper). I told the others that our resources were not large enough to support everybody. Only those that would prove themselves as valuable to me could survive.
I told the Wood Burner to set up a workshop somewhere and start making charcoal, the Furnace Operator received instructions to set up a smelter in order to smelt any ores we would eventually find. The Armourer I told to set up a forge to supply our soldiers with fre- that was when Rith piped in. "We don't have an anvil" she said. I was silent for a moment. How could it be that we didn't bring an anvil with us? Or even deign to purchase one from the caravan last year? I did not know what was going through the minds of our previous leaders. Not much I guess, since they all went insane and died.
I quickly told the peasants to grab some picks, they would be mining soon, and dismissed everybody.
One dwarf remained. He told me his name was Olin Speakerdoors, the sharpest eyes in the west. I told him to shut up and get to work. He said he was a ranger of the finest caliber and wished to hunt the abominations known as gores that were reported to live in these lands. I wished him a good death and bade him farewell.
The expedition of the second level goes well, with the peasant miners working together with the mason that came with them from the mountainhome.
Rith reports to me that the migrants have gone to her and announced to her that she was the new expedition leader.
Greatly angered by this bypass of my power, I demanded her to give up her position, I threatened her life, I begged her to relinquish her station over to me, I called her dirty names. All to no avail. Bed-ridden as I am I can do little. Who would have thought, the great Solon, broken and humiliated by
politics. But no, once I exit this bed, which has become my prison, I shall bring a wrath so great to this fortress, as to show them who truly is its lord and master.
Olin Speakerdoors, happy as can be, trumped into my room making me jolt up in surprise, causing one of my loose, broken skull plates to shift infront of my eyes. Temporarily blinding me. When I manage to get my head in order again, I look at Olin, who stares back at me, his joy dampened by horror and disgust. I ask him what he wants in my room, why I just shouldn't slay him where he stands, when another dwarf enters the room. I recognise him, he is one of useless dwarves I sent out to die, but something has changed about him. Before he can say anything Olin, vigour renewed by the presence of apparent competition, jumped infront of him and announced to me he was a great slayer of beasts, having killed 5 extremely dangerous beasts with his crossbow.
I stared at him. He beamed a great smile, pride practically oozing off of him as to be scraped off and stored in a barrel like as if it were lye. Then I took action. I shouted at him with all my pent up rage and frustration. I called him a worthless git, not even fit for the butchers block, who, could I stand, I would kick out of the fortress and dump in a ditch and then bury alive. He started crying and ran out of my room. I turned to the other dwarf and asked him why he had come.
He said "We have rid the area of those animals you have sent us to kill."
I asked how many he had slain personally.
"Six. I killed six."
I asked what weapon he used.
"My hands." Was the answer.
I saw promise in him. I saw opportunity for me. Who says Solon Holdaxes, the Butcher of the Fingers, is blind? "Gather the dwarves in my room." I instructed him.
He obeyed.
I held a speech from my bed, having Vucar Dayboots, the Armourer, hold my head. I told them of the brave deeds of the three soldiers, spraying the countryside with the blood of the enemy and their own aswell. I especially praised Ònul Whitelabours, who had slain six himself. Then I announced that I was anointing him supreme commander of the military.
The crowd cheered, as expected. Especially since I had instructed Vucar, Olin and Stukos Handledbanner the Furnace Operator, who were standing beside me, to shout as loud as they could.
I saw Rith trying to protest, it was, after all, not my place to make such decisions. But the dwarves, being in their essence followers of he who could shout the loudest, were too busy hailing me and Ònul to hear her.
Pleased with myself I ordered all the dwarves to leave me, as their shouting had loosened the plates in my skull and given me a headache.
-----
21 migrants arrived. There were previously only 3 living dwarves in the fortress. Atleast I won't need to reclaim now. I don't know how the 3 recruits managed to slay so many gores without weapons while even Astesh had to use a pick and constantly got grave wounds.
Solon is still bed-ridden and its seems he will never recover from his broken head, but with the arrival of the migrants the situation is saved, the fortress will not fall.
Odd!x, why not sign up? We don't have enough players and I will pretty much be spending my entire turn increasing the defences of the fortress, so it won't be that hard anymore (until the orcs arrive atleast, then it will be hella hard).
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Topic: Redundantfort: A Succession Fortress (Read 14282 times)