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You spend most of the night in deep discussion with Fourguts. The crossbower stands guard while the other dwarves eat and warily watch the darkened forest downhill. Nothing more than a few hoary marmots have been spotted ... so far. Foureyes mistakes them as puppies and runs off on several occasions.
You eventually come to an agreement and sketch your fortress plan in the dirt. Your priority is to be strictly self-sufficient and protected as soon as possible. To this end you have devised a modular hub system that contains all your basic necessities interconnected around a central storage room, two levels beneath your current height. A farm, run-off well and kitchens will be slightly lower so they can be regularly flooded from the nearby brook. A dining hall will be directly above them for convenience. Small bedrooms will be dug on the other side of the storage, and workshops spread around the tunnels closer to the surface. Even a refuse pile and tiny office for Fourguts - eventually haggled into separate rooms - are catered for.
Security is also considered carefully. The only entrance will be heavily trapped using cages and spears carved from the wrecked wood, though simple stone traps will be installed even before then. Your barracks will exit directly beyond the traps, and even have emergency passages leading to the workshops in the event of moody dwarves.
With a firm nod, you grasp your pickaxe and prepare to finally strike the earth. Fourguts is giving the other dwarves their orders: several temporary workshops are to be constructed outside to produce furniture, sturdy doors and mechanisms. The other dwarves will also be on standby to begin hauling rubble out and supplies in once you give the word the tunnels are safe. The idle metalsmith is chosen to mason in your absence. The crossbower will be hauling only, and for good reason - only an hour ago were you told their crossbow and ammunition were actually lost during the goblin attack at sea. Only the doctor will be aiding your dig.
"Pretend the stone is your father's liver," Fourguts advises as he hands a perturbed doctor the second pick.
With a
crash the first andesite crumbles beneath your pick. You grin and flex your muscles, then hack another wall of stone to pieces. Then a third. Then a fourth. By the twentieth or so you lose count and your feeling of pure joy moderates itself into proud work and dwarven digging songs.
As you dig deeper and deeper you begin to lose track of time. Only ale breaks and the occasional lucky discovery mark your progress. You are tempted by tube agate in a planned wall but decide to leave it for later. Shortly afterwards you find black diamond just waiting to be carefully excavated. Even better, you next strike faint yellow diamond! Later you find another cluster of agates again, and then black zircon. Then faint yellow diamond. Then green diamond.
Suddenly, your questioning of diamonds' supposed preciousness is interrupted by a tell-tale trickle of water. You press your hands against the nearest stone and find it damp. This can't be right. You are still some distance from the river and not far beneath the surface. Normally this discovery would be a curiosity rather than a problem, but you are already recalling the last words you spoke with Fourguts. After one break and several sleeps worth of working, the basics of the fortress are nearly finished; unfortunately, so too are your food supplies. Only four packaged lobsters remain and you need this tunnel dug quickly in order to begin farming.
Instead of goblins, it seems your greatest danger has become the time you've spent protecting yourselves from them!
If you risk digging straight through the dampness, turn to page 33.
If you order a wooden crossbow and bolts made for hunting, turn to page 12.
If you ask around for any dwarves who know how to fish, turn to page 117.
If your mind hungrily turns towards Foureyes' 'pony', turn to page 86.
If you screw it and dig out all the gems so that you die RICH, turn to page 99.