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[SethCreiyd]

Spring

I had to take up extremely early this morning because some idiot flooded our entire forge level with molten rock.  I swear, in a room of a hundred miners you have a hundred people with rocks in their heads.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Still, I do enjoy a good hunt in the wee hours of the morning, if I tend to avoid using crossbows.  Thankfully I'd taken the precious adamantine gear before it could drown in the magma, so I was able to don my choice apparel.  While I was changing, the militia captain came into the barracks with some troubling news.

The beast he described sounds frightful enough, but so deep in the caverns the creature can't harm us.  Even so, I asked our captain to keep a vigilant watch.  Then I went out for my hunt.

I'd not sooner wiped my blade when I spotted the first of the goblins on the horizon.  Scores of them.

A few greenskins appeared in ambush and sunk their hatred into the civilians who were working on the new road.  They cried out for mercy, surely knowing the futility of it but having no other option to turn to.

The war dogs were the first to assault back, but vicious teeth are no match for cruel metal.  One by one our canine soldiers fell to the invaders.  The fortress guard was stationed near the front gate, but several broke rank and started pursuing the enemy around our gates in order to protect the civilians caught outside.  Then, we struck disaster.

A legion of goblins mounted on great winged beasts from the dark underground came soaring in over our northern gate.  The soldiers that hadn't yet joined the fray to the west rushed over to defend against this more present threat.

The fight on the western front went poorly for our forces, many of whom had never before seen a battle, who had to contend with monstrosities they'd scarcely imagined.

The first of our defenders lain to waste, the enemy stormed our entrance, their mounts ignoring the feeble traps before them.  A squadron of marksdwarves was there to slow their advance at the ballista house, and the goblin squad leader was caught in the chest with a bolt and launched from the beast he was riding into a pond beside our walls.

Far to the south, a lone goblin slew half a dozen dogs and soldiers by itself, and stood admiring its own handiwork.

All was not lost.  The struggle for the northern wall ended favorably, our troops killing most of the flying attackers and setting the rest to retreat.

But the battle was not yet over.

Near the front of our gate, a lone wounded soldier stood firmly against a crazed troll, losing great amounts of blood from a spot that once held an arm.

He succeeded in driving the troll off, and limped back inside, his work not yet over, and moved with purpose toward another engagement along the south wall.

I was then distracted from my observations when a Troll crept from behind a boulder and tried to throttle me from behind.  My sword was out quick enough to fend off the creature, but it was wickedly fast itself, and it cackled madly as it evaded my attempts to dispatch it.

My sword finally caught the creature right in its slavering maw, and it thrust truly into the brain, ending its madness forever.  It was the last threat we would see this day.  We are victorious.  Cavebrands is safe.

Safe.

[Cheddarius]

...for now.

Man, I died. Oh well. We'll have goods to trade and steel to melt down.
How's our military doing?

[SethCreiyd]

A dozen are severely wounded or worse, the others are a bit bruised and more experienced.  Not too shabby for the casualties we inflicted.  I'm hoping the death keeps them away for a while.

[Cheddarius]

It won't. I suggest that you close up the bridge and try to train up a better military before opening it.

[Kagus]

Troll...  Gem Setter?  They brought a freakin' jewelerbeast to the battle?


Anyways, shame about our forges and metal industry going up in smoke.  I can only imagine how that particular happening came to be...

[SethCreiyd]

That was me trying to expand the area for a slew of magma smelters.  The plan (which also went up in smoke) was to make Furnace Operators out of everyone useless.

The mishap is not as bad as it could be since the area above the magma flood is completely unused.  New forges can be easily built to replace the old ones cooking below.

[SethCreiyd]

Spring into Summer

A gifted child named Reg completed a cabinet made entirely of goat bones.  I'm not sure how it holds itself together, but it's getting sent my office all the same.

It's a bland, ugly affair, but it does possess a quiet charm and sets a fine example of resourcefulness.  I hope this kid can teach the rest of us how to make furniture out of dead things, as we have a surplus of sorts in our bone yard.

I was trying to figure out where to put the cabinet when a peasant ran up to me wailing about her dead dog.  It seems the animal revealed its utter worthlessness by allowing a squirrel to rip its head off.  I might have rolled my eyes the entire time I went out to investigate.

Holy schist, she wasn't exaggerating.  I found the head (still in the marmot's jaws) hovering over the blood-soaked ground.  The dead eyes stared, seeming to ask, "Where did my body go?"

I drew my sword.  Something was clearly wrong with the squirrel and it needed to die.

I carried the deceased animal to the upper entrance, framed as it was by an ocean of coffins.  As I buried the headless dog, I wondered which of these coffins would one day entomb me.

Suddenly there were panicked shouts, picked up and launched from one end of the fort to the others.  Some imponderable beast had destroyed our defensive fortifications in the underground and now posed a considerable threat to all our continued existences.

I am starting to think the gods hate us.

Well, this wasn't so bad after all.  The beast was already crumbling to glittery dust when we assailed and finished it off.

Our soldiers unscathed, I sent some of them back to the fortress while the rest and I escorted a few civilians deeper into the cavern to repair our fortifications.

That's when we quite literally ran into the vomit monster.

The ash maker was heard shrieking away before we'd even rounded the corner.  There stood the repulsive monster, its vile form leaving puddles of retch-inducing slime along its path.  It stood sucking on the corpses of a fallen fisherdwarf before it noticed us, bellowed loudly, and started heaving its gluttonous mass toward us, snapping its wet jaws.

When it reached us, it literally exploded with the most evil-smelling liquid ever conceived by gods or dwarves.  I have never before felt such rage.

When the awful beast made a break for Tholtig, I charged forward and departed its head from the rest of it.  Our threats dispatched, we headed back to the surface to tend to our wounds, bury our dead, and take the longest baths of our lives.

Later that evening:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Cheddarius]

Dang. And I'm dead, too... hopefully the doctors will take care of you as best they can.
Or, y'know, dance on your bed and slosh water at you.

[Argonnek]

My personal suggestion is that you give five or so idlers only health care duty, because if you don't get to a hospital soon, that rot will become very, very bad.

[SethCreiyd]

Summer

I've been lying on the ground for days.  Why hasn't anyone helped me?

Oh wait, someone came over to bury me.  Since I'm not dead yet they brought me over to the hospital instead.

I can't move a muscle so I have to sit here in the putrid husk of my premature corpse and have news of the fort delivered to me by the Captain of the Guard.  This is what I get for being a hero.  At least the guards are in good spirits, since they've been clearing the underworld of danger one draltha at a time.

Several events transpired during my brief respite.  For starters, another defective dog removed itself from the breeding pool with the help of a groundhog.

The same day, a weaver was attacked by a Giant Cave Spider while he was collecting webs.  The guard dispatched it easily enough but the weaver did not survive.  I wonder who told him to go off in the caverns alone and unarmed?

I fortunately recovered mobility after three days of rest, despite the fact that I now resemble one of the rotting zombie animals of old legend.  After one more day of getting used to the way my limbs now moved and felt, it was back to the job of overseeing, and it came not a moment too soon.

This place needs a miracle, not an overseer.

I was just told that El Burro Sombrero (or Crazy Old Windspells, depending on whom you ask) had a matter of great importance to discuss, so I decided to entertain the old coot because he's good at making me laugh and I could really use some mirth right now.

Someone decided it would be real funny to stick a fully-armed goblin inside Sombrero's room.  When I opened the door, the brute lunged forward with his whip and knocked the wind out of me.  It was a strange feeling, as I fell to the floor - so much pain through such rotted flesh.  I've never been so weak.  I fear it will never end. 

I'm back in the hospital now.  The goblin was dispatched by the guards easily enough.  Sombrero, for his part, actually succeeded in dragging his pseudobody outside of his room only to pass out on the floor a few feet away from the door.  They put him in the bed next to me.  How exciting.

Humans have come to trade.  We opened the gates to let them in.  I hope we dont'

come

to

regret it.

[SethCreiyd]

The dwarves fought valiantly to protect their own, but the cost would be great indeed.

Overwhelmed by sheer numbers, they couldn't maintain for long.

One by one, the defenders of Cavebrands were overrun by the swarm of invaders.

The battle spilled into the main hall.  The attackers were beset by brave dwarves the entire way through, but even the stoutest among them were torn to shreds by the fell creature commanding the assault.

Some humans rushed to the aid of their trade partners, only to be batted aside just as easily.

With the main resistance over, the new masters of Cavebrands began to redecorate.

And so, the reign of dwarves over their final outpost came to its end:

But there can be no end without a beginning.

Out of the whirls of time and space a hardened soul without a home was ripped across the sundered fabric of reality and placed gently but firmly in the able body of a legendary stoneworker.  Disoriented at first, he quickly found himself standing on a magnificent golden trade depot, surrounded by a small group of terrified dwarves asking him what to do.  A few humans stood nearby with loaded wagons, their weapons out, their eyes darting back and forth for danger.

What in the Windy World?  Creiydrek thought.


I finished the year already, FPS improved dramatically after I destroyed a billion articles of clothing and lots of things died, and now I just need to narrate the turn.  I'll do that soon, I just need a break for a bit.

The goblins attacked as soon as the traders got in, the gate couldn't close quick enough to avoid getting destroyed, and I couldn't finish a few vital wall sections because the masons were too scared of some stationary trolls.  In order words, they caught me with my pants down.

[melkorp]

Damn, the Battlefailed/Cavebrands continuity is starting to look like the DC universe.

Crisis On Infinite Urist

[SethCreiyd]

Journal of Creiydrek Yearrings the Granite Stomps of Foot, Excerpts

Autumn - Winter

The last thing I remember before finding myself in this "Cavebrands" place was being mauled by a gigantic stonefly that appeared without warning in the middle of the dining hall.   I remember thinking, "The pain, the pain, oh Otik the pain please stop."  And then it did, and I was here, and what the fuck is going on? I wondered.

So there I was, suddenly on a fabulous golden platform with animals and crying dwarves all around me, a couple children pointing their fingers at a doorway through their sobs.  It was all I could do to not pass out from confusion on the spot.  Before long I worked out that there was some kind of horrific death waiting on the other side of that door, and that we were all unfortunately close to it.

A child went berserk in the middle of the depot while I was trying to figure out what to do next.  He lunged for one of the nervous human caravan guards, who dealt with him mercilessly.

This makes two fortresses that have seen me unwillingly covered in the blood of children. 

I wish this were all a dream, and though I doubt it, a part of me prays that when I awake on the morrow I'll be back at Battlefailed in my house with Edzul and Pisano and everyone else just across the halls.

Still, I was assuredly a goner.  Losing the lower half of your body to a giant bleeding insect tends to have that effect on a dwarf.

That's it, then.  I'm dead, and this is Hell.

[SethCreiyd]

Journal Excerpts Con't

A swordsman sprinted forth to besiege a hideous red-eyed mole person that came to investigate us, and I reckoned that was the best time to strike a quick bargain and send the caravan on their way.  I'm no trader, but sometimes one doesn't need to be.

"Take all the clothes on the Depot," I said.  "Just leave us your goods and go."

They considered haggling for only a moment before realizing the kind of profit this deal had for them and they started dumping their things and packing the clothes without a further word.  While they did so, I hurried down the hall to save all our lives.

While gathering stone I noticed a suicidal child kicking a maddened bull in the face.  It pains me to say I didn't have time to save the child or the bovine from one another.  I had survival to consider.

I returned to the Depot and shouted at the terrified group until they shut up and listened to me.  Then they took picks and began to dig for the first time in their lives, while I built up a wall with as much haste I could muster.  I must admit I am fond of this strapping new body.

However, I noticed (with no small dismay) that I'm not the only thing to have come out of Battlefailed.



Poor lad.

*   *   *

Meanwhile, across the rest of the fort, things are unwell.

A psychotic child rages against a wounded hero...

A terrifying beast from the underworld emerges and enters the fort...

Followed by another...

And another...

Till nary a living soul breathes in all of Cavebrands.

[SethCreiyd]

Journal Excerpts Con't

We had finished the wall after the humans had left, and when we heard dwarven voices on the other side of the barricade, we were slow to take down a section to let them into our hideaway.  It seems the coast is clear for now, so I intend to extend our habitable area while we have the protection of the guards from Kivish Borik.

It's been quiet, but the sounds of forgotten beasts still echo through these desolate halls.  As long as the caravan remains here, we are all vulnerable.

The trader actually had the stones to ask if we were attacked.

I don't know, what does it look like?  Moron.  Funnily enough his name was Meng.

We somehow managed to do our business despite the smell of the dead child buried underneath all the humans' wares.  We traded all that junk for more food, timber, booze and animals, everything these dwarves will need to survive.

I don't expect to make it another night.  There is a shadow hovering over this fort, and we will never know peace until it is banished.

While I will almost surely die, I will die in a manner befitting a dwarf, not hiding in some cubbyhole like a kobold pup.  If I must die I will die with honor.

Besides, I'm supposed to be dead anyway. 

*   *   *

Without saying goodbye to the strange dwarves, Creiydrek proceeded to the weapon stockpile and gathered what he would need to face their foe.

The battle lasted for hours.  Creiydrek matched the mole demon blow-for-blow, his axe every bit as swift as the demon's raking claws, but the mortal's stamina was limited; the demon's was not.  As time flowed forth it swept the dwarf's ability to stand against the unyielding savagery of his opponent, until he could stand no more.

The demon was in questionable shape, mangled but showing no sign of discomfort after taking many blows that would have felled lesser creatures many times over.  Creiydrek knew what his chances were.  He let the axe fall from his grasp to lie on the ground beside him.  He had lost.  Death would be next.

This is how it should be, Creiydrek thought as his blood pooled around him.  His vision was growing spotty.  There were streaks of gray over everything.  He was starting to feel cold.

This is how it should be.

...

























But his death was not yet to be...

When the Granite Stomps of Foot awoke, the bleeding in his stump had ceased.  In front of him hovered Anoth the mole demon, its legs crossed in an unnatural looking manner, and it eyed him with predatory curiosity.

Creiydrek spat in the direction of the monster, but missed by a wide berth.  "Filth," he swore at his enemy through gritted teeth.  "Why haven't you finished me yet?  The battle is yours."

The malign creature grinned through bloodstained lips and, with a searing voice that echoed with hollow mirth, said, "What manner of king would so injure his subjects?  They are no good to him dead."

"King of no one that counts," Creiydrek managed.  The pain in his arm had not left him, and his severed leg was rotting so quickly he could already smell it decaying around him.  He tried not to dwell on it, and cast his mind elsewhere.

He doesn't know about the others, he thought.  The others are safe.

"The others are safe," said the demon.  "They are not quite as foolish as you are." 

The dwarf failed to hide his astonishment.  If the beast could read his mind, then...

"Ah, the audience arrives.  Lo, here they come now."  Anoth pointed, and Creiydrek looked.

Goblins crept from the path up the mountainside and began to perch around them, making no move to attack.  They were laughing and staring across the hall intently as their demonic master lowered itself to the ground and moved toward Creiydrek with slow conviction.

"I think you came here to die," purred the demon as it approached, it's mole-headed face stopping inches from the dwarf's bearded one.

"But you shouldn't die yet, Creiydrek Yearrings.  Now, how many holes do dwarves start with?"

The demon stared down at him hungrily, and inside Creiydrek felt he should scream.