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[LordNuts]

237. The cat might have nine lives, but I don't think we're going to get a second one from it.

[TALLPANZER]

237, and get some steel ready!

[OneMoreNameless]

237

You come to a skidding stop just outside of the cavern outpost, already yelling for the retreat. The sound of dwarven panic drowns out the jabberer's broken cawing, but nothing can drown out the stench of troll. Dwarves shove past you as they flee upstairs. You try not to think of the cook. With those gnarled hands around their throat, they're already dead.
    A guttural roar shakes the caverns as the forgotten beast emerges. You're already dashing back upstairs with the last few miners, but you catch a brief glimpse of it before setting foot on the stairs: it comes in the form of an enormous feathered rove beetle, with wings and toxic fumes surrounding it. Strange, that's not how you remember ... oh.
    You come to a panting stop at the top of the stairwell. An entrance to the bedrooms is only steps away: there is no space for traps or defences when the beast comes. Instead, two masons are desperately blocking off the tunnel with thick stone walls. Fourguts tiredly staggers through the last opening. The cook's final wretched scream follows him.
    "That's everyone, the caverns are clear," Fourguts declares hurriedly. "Seal it and you'd better hope to whatever God you pray to that it holds."
    You grab the last slab of stone and prepare to slide it into place. A cat leaps through the opening just at the last second, then stalks away after some vermin. Deep below you hear the crashing of your outpost being torn to pieces.
    "Tell my military to start practising with real weapons," Fourguts orders. You quickly nod in agreement. "I don't know what you've dug up this time, but you'd better help fix it from day one or I swear I will throw you out for the goblins, do you understand?" You nod a little slower, your eyes a little less eager. "Good. Now get those smelters back on. We need that charcoal and whatever iron ore we have left for armour. And get somebody to pick through the mess around the traps, there might be a few pieces we can scavenge from there."
    By the end of the day armour production has begun. By the end of the week you can finally sleep without nightmares of the forgotten beast bursting into your room - nobody has heard it stir since caverns were sealed. By the end of the month you think the military have started training with their iron weapons, but you wouldn't put money on it.
    While the military undergo improvements you make sure to keep the civilian dwarves busy as well. Not just to keep their minds away from what lurks in the caverns; if there are any dwarves being used as you were, you want to catch them in the act. Fortunately nothing untoward occurs. More fresh clothing is produced. More workshops are constructed to finish cutting rough gems. The fortress is decorated from an increasingly bloated refuse stockpile.
    "We're surrounded by the bones of our greatest foes lain to waste before us: fucking fish," Monom comments on several occasions.
    You also take the time to reorganise several stockpiles, which involves a good deal of grunt hauling work. Further days are spent in technical discussion with Fourguts to reduce job cancellations and other management issues. An expensive artifact amulet is crafted Twenty spare copper breastplates are produced when a smith gets carried away. But by the time the next merchants arrive your fortress is running much more smoothly and hopefully soon, much more deadly.
    You and a few other dwarves gather around the trade depot to listen to the almost inevitable screams. At first roughly two thirds of them are dwarven, but a few minutes later you can make out a rickety crossbow firing and several goblin cries in quick succession. A merchant loudly rages as the voices and clashing weapons dwindle. A melancholic sobbing seeps over the dirt. A horse starts rolling around and neighing crazily. Then berzerk braying and a lonely stampede.
    You ... don't think you're going to be donating those gems this year.
    "If they're mad, their shit's free right?" Monom asks. "Icalldibsontheirtoyhammers!"
    "Forbidden," Fourguts snaps, whipping out his stocks record.
    The Dwarf King's liaison makes it unharmed to your fortress a few days later. He doesn't say much about the attack, and when prompted quickly changes the topic.
    "Did you know that our service now allows you to order specific body parts such as the eyes of draltha?" the liaison mechanically offers.
    "Oh good. Finally, I can complete my love potion," Fourguts replies sarcastically. The liaison doesn't even blink.
    While Fourguts is busy working out trade agreements, you gather a large group of idle dwarves. With a quick hand gesture you direct them to rush outside all at once - there's no sense in letting the dead merchants' valuable armour and wood go to waste. Moments later the berzerk donkey charges downhill towards the haulers. You hastily pull them back inside. The donkey considers your group huddled behind the traps, then turns around and goes running hungrily after its former owner. As soon as the area is clear you dash back out again and bring the few chosen supplies inside without further event.
    Three months have passed since the fateful day in the caverns. The underground has been deceptively quiet since. Neither have any goblins - or elves - reached your fortress. But with every day that passes in idyllic peace you are all the more sure that others, too, are gathering their forces. Someday soon there will be a battle. And this time, you will win. For everyone's sake.
    "Oh for fuck's ... Mummy, put your training axe away. You already have a big girl's axe and a shield in your other hand, just swap one over please. Shit, this is so embarrassing," Monom moans, covering her eyes.
    "Mrrrrm mrrph mrrrMRmphrrrr!" Vabok objects. She pauses for a second, frowns, then pulls off her leather helm. And her iron cap. And her leather cap. Then trips over her mismatched high and low leather boots. "I'm okay!"



If you allow the military's training to continue, turn to page 238.
If you set free the caged goblins for the military to kill, turn to page 152.
If you press Fourguts to attack the forgotten beast, turn to page 299.
If you recruit a second squad under your direct command, turn to page 57.
If you dig a second and heavily trapped tunnel back down to the caverns, turn to page 198.

[gumball135]

This is a hard one...

I pick 57 if that means the military keep training anyways; otherwise, 238.

[Imp]

Several good pages here, aye.

There's something about 57 that makes me think we die again soon if we choose it.  However (if the code cooperates) I bet the dwarves directly under our guidance will fair well, we've proven to be a most capable leader before when we tried.  57, with a heavy heart and a hopes that our tomb is prepared somewhere.

[OneMoreNameless]

Uh, I should probably clarify. When I said "under your direct command", I meant in comparison to Fourguts controlling the current military storywise. YOU!r dwarf will stay a miner. (And the first squad will continue training separately during choices 57 or 198.)

[gumball135]

In that case, I don't think it's a good idea to piss of Fourguts.
238!

[LordSlowpoke]

299.
That's just the right amount of iron we already wasted on dorfs who don't even know how to swap axes. And even if we kill it, the survivors can get steel armor later. We just need to make sure we seal it after they come in, and keep it in such a way until they win. Or the FB walks away.

[LordNuts]

57. And do it secretly (give them their own hidden baracks) so we have an ace up our sleeve against Fourguts later.

[OneMoreNameless]

57

Scritch.
    You wake with a start and swing your pick wildly. It swishes through empty air and you take deep breaths as you survey your bedroom walls. You sigh. Then as you lean back down onto your bed your head touches paper.
    'Fourguts doesn't trust you,' the scratchings read. 'The arsenal dwarf is now captain of the guard. Dwarves are meeting his requests for a dining room out of fear. When you fought upon the tower he had no army. Now he seeks control - out of fear. Trust Fourguts. My owner doesn't trust me. I offered him a fresh kill and he refused it. Maybe the stockpiles will always be too full for my help.'
    You're not sure if you do trust Fourguts, though. At the very least you question his leadership ability. You lay still without sleeping, devising your own contingency plan. A second squad, yes. Chosen from dwarves of all skills who are allowed a variety of armour and weapons to suit them. Free to carry as many supplies as they wish and wear civilian clothes when off-duty. Kept a secret even from fellow dwarves and trained underground where no goblins or beasts will ever see them coming from. A failsafe for almost any crisis.
    The logistics fall into place once you have your aims. You'll choose the dwarves from close friends or those with too much time on their hands, like the legendary fisherdwarf bound inside. You can dig the barracks yourself, with secret entrances originating from inside eastern bedrooms. An order to engrave the walls should cover for the extra movement while you set it up. Another command to sort and stockpile the clothing left in the weapon traps will camouflage any new recruits sorting out their armour. Your plan is perfect.
    Your plan was perfect.
    Your plan was awful, you eventually settle on several months later. Your recollection of the time is a little hazy after one too few beers - you've had no time between the running around trying to organise armour, instructing the dwarves who repeatedly failed to pick things from the stockpile, trying to convince any of the supposedly enthusiastic volunteers to actually go active and do any training ... No matter how much you pleaded, you only ever saw a single dwarf practising with a scimitar down in your secret barracks. You're fairly sure you even saw one standing around watching Fourguts' military despite being disallowed from the tower. You did get them mostly equipped with spare armour, but then nobody seemed willing to pick up a shield and the whole thing was a nightmare.
    There was one small diversion. A lonely minotaur appeared on your horizon, begging for food and friendly company. Vabok was touched by his plight and opened the front doors wide. The minotaur, overjoyed, skipped forward and shinnck had bled out before Fourguts' military arrived down from their tower to finish it off.
    Eventually you disband all ten of your recruits. Only the legendary fisherdwarf decides to keep his silver battleaxe and fill up a vacancy with Fourguts. But you don't give up entirely. You are no feeble elf or simpering human, and you need no dumb animals or stall tactics to win a battle. If the forgotten beast is strong or the goblins are many, so be it. Nothing that is grand is grand buried beneath a mountain. And only dwarves are the mountain's master.
    Pick held high, you return to the mines and strike the earth. You resume explorative mining at first, to throw Fourguts off your scent. Then while the others are busy you slowly dig out a twisty corridor almost disconnected from your fort. Inside the corridors you install three supports, three levers, and three plates. Above the corridors you channel out rectangles of haphazardly balanced stone.
    Then it occurs to you that this leaves the corridors much wider than the plates. And that the trap will be useless against anything with wings, such as the forgotten beast's current incarnation. After a moment's thought you install additional plates and tie up several puppies as bait. As an additional precaution, you order several bridges constructed around the open spaces - sturdy enough to walk across, but not enough to hold the balanced stone in place when the support is-
    WHUMPH!
    "Uh, heh, whoops," a miner groggily yells before bursting into a coughing fit and collapsing unconscious. Once the dust has cleared you edge closer to the collapsed section and peer down. Fortunately, nobody was hurt. With a little more care you suspend several orders until the last support is in place. Once that is done, you tiredly order the floor reconstructed to rearm that third of the trap. While that's being-
    WHUMPH!
    "Aaaaaah!" a mechanic yells, blown backwards through empty space. He lands with a thump on the dirt one level down and passes out. A mason standing on a rickety bridge scratches his beard in embarrassment. You irritably redesignate the construction one square at a time. Finally, the traps are complete and sturdy. There's a little more mechanic work to be done inside them and a few bridges under construction, but nothing you can't safely leave to a trusted dwarf and go get yourself a-
    "HEEEEEELP!"
    You snap your head around and stare across the mine. Two miners cough awkwardly and point at the rectangles of empty space trapping them. You consider this for a moment, give them a rude gesture and storm back upstairs. They can wait for the bridges.
    "Hello, stoneworker!" Vabok greets you in the alcohol stockpile. "Did you hear that more migrants have arrived? Just think, all of us now have ninety six potential friends!"
    You grumble vaguely about idlers and new bedrooms, then tilt a whole barrel of strawberry wine down your throat. This has not been a good season for you.



If you vent your stress by butchering your stray animals, turn to page 44.
If you really vent your stress by killing the caged goblins, turn to page 79.
If you ACTUALLY really vent your stress by squashing the latest needy mayor, turn to page 104.
If you honestly ACTUALLY really vent your stress by throwing Fourguts' military to the forgotten beast, turn to page 299.
If you sound (and goblin) proof your regrowing forest to relax in - ahh - turn to page 111.

[Dermonster]

111.

BECAUSE NOBODY EXPECTS IT.

[Imp]

111.  In part because our narrator (and our author) seems to have earned it!  (and I bet there's going to be a cool twist from it anyway, woo!)

[LukeRM]

299.

[maxicaxi]

111.

BECAUSE NOBODY EXPECTS IT.

[dragnar]

111.

BECAUSE NOBODY EXPECTS IT.