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[Graebeard]

Act II Scene 2

Setting: An immaculately clean and rounded dining room.  Several dwarfs smooth a perfectly curved obsidian wall.

A familiar figure enters, twirling his perfectly trimmed and braided mustache.  He has gained some weight since we last saw him, but his cheeks are still gaunt.  He walks over to tall dwarf.  She is belarded with great hanging sacks of fat.

“Ah, lolghurt.  A word.”

“YES GRAEBEARD WHAT DO YOU WANT.”

“Um.  Ineth the butcher concerns me.  He seems… different… lately.  He doesn’t finish his work.  And he has the same apprehensive glare as that fool who died of thirst after making a useless obsidian millstone 3 years ago.  I fear he may not belong.”

“NO YOU MEAN HE MAY NOT BE LONG”

“Yes, that’s what I...  Never mind.”

Shaking his head, Graebeard continues on.  He nods approvingly as he inspects the work, walking towards a dwarf with neatly combed long hair.  She labors surrounded by dogs and puppies of all ages and colors.

“Ah, DuckThatQuacks.  Fine job.  This obsidian is so smooth I can see my reflection while I eat.”

She looks up with an irritated stare.

“It is beautiful, or, at least, it will be as soon as I am allowed to finish my work.”

“Of course.  Keep up the go...”

Graebeard’s leg convulses, knocking him off balance and into the nearby obsidian table.  Catching himself, he looks first to his ankle and sees a tiny glistening spot.  Then he raises his stare to the small puppy, now cowering behind its mother at all the sudden commotion, that caused the offense.

“Graebeard, are you all right?”

“It licked me.”

...

A minute passes.  Measured breaths and wagging tails provide the only sounds of life.

“Ahem.  Yes.  I am fine.  Duck, we must talk about your… animals.”

“Oh, you mean my pets.  My lovely, darling, adorable little puppy wuppies.”

She absentmindedly scratches one behind its ears.

“Duck, you’re a good dwarf.  Expert smoother.  So we’ve tolerated your... these things, since you migrated here.  The first batch of dirty, mewling dog spawn was... cute, in a way.  From a distance.  We’ve been very tolerant of your quirks.”

“My quirks?  But you...”

“Yes.  Well.  Now what do we have?  The dog you brought with you..."

"Adil."

Yes, well, Adil has sired a living mountain of squirming dog-flesh.  Its progeny are... cluttering... our home.”

DuckThatQuacks glances around the room, looking into the brown, uncomprehending eyes that all stare lovingly back at her.

“OK, I’ve overindulged.  I’ll have a talk with Ineth about the small ones.  But the adults may prove useful.  And if you ever touch my precious Adil I’ll gut you like a fish.”

Unhappy but mollified, Graebeard walks on, unaware that both his problems had just solved each other.

Edit: updated to clarify who Adil was.

[Argembarger]

...

EPIC.

That does it, I'm casting a vote in the Hall of Legends for this.

[Argonnek]

Awesome... I hope I can live up to the fairly high storytelling standards this thread has. We shall see!

[lolghurt]

“NO YOU MEAN HE MAY NOT BE LONG”

wait what? hearing problems? insanity?

[Graebeard]

Punning.  Like, "be long for this world."  Also, I'm not making up that description.  We're all really fat now.

[Argonnek]

Yeah, dwarves get fat fast. If it caused health problems like in RL, then most fortresses would end in diabetes or heart attacks instead of tantrum spirals or sieges.

[lolghurt]

Yeah, dwarves get fat fast. If it caused health problems like in RL, then most fortresses would end in diabetes or heart attacks instead of tantrum spirals or sieges.

Considering that dwarfs eat once every month and a half, I think getting fat fast is something of a necessity

[Graebeard]

Act II Scene 3

Setting: An obsidian dining hall with matching black tables and chairs.  13 dwarfs sit together.  Most focus their attention on hands or feet.  Others stare at the floor, glance around nervously, or gaze into the distance.  Few make eye contact.

A reserved dwarf stands.  He is distant, but confidant.  His neatly combed mustache and sideburns present a stark contrast to the jagged, still pink scar covering the right side of his face.

“We are too few.”

“Too few for what, Analog?”

“For greatness.  The last five years have made us too comfortable, too fat.  We idle, content with mediocrity as greatness passes by outside our closed walls.”

The seated dwarves mutter to themselves and one another.  Some begin to speak

“NO THE WALLS ARE CLOSED TO KEEP THEM OUT WE MAY NOT BREACH OUR PROTECTION”

 “agree I lolghurt with.  are danger from of outside ourselves protect to too the the We weak world.”

A confident dwarf stands, gaunt in face though his potbelly protrudes impressively.

“The danger is small.  We do not need to protect ourselves from the outside world.  The kobolds we’ve encountered all run at the sight of us.”

“But Graebeard, what about that mud-blob called Sest sitting, waiting for us in the caverns with his deadly dust?”

“Sest is not a threat.  He cannot topple the walls we use to seal him out.  Analog is right.  We must allow others to join us.  We may construct our glory only with the aid of many hands.”

“NO DIRTY HIPP…”

“That’s enough, lolghurt.  We must trade to encourage others to join us.”

“about kobolds the What…”

“Please.  My pick is strong.  Have you so quickly forgotten the might of our weapons?”

Only silence and uncomfortable glances welcome this last remark.

“It’s decided, then.  The Depot goes up.  The walls come down.  Let’s go.”

[Graebeard]

Act II Scene 3

Setting: Base of the Whiskeybridle tower.  A newly completed cobaltite trade depot impudently sits where once an obsidian depot majestically marked the economic center of the fort.  Graebeard stands before the wall that marks where a matching obsidian drawbridge once protected the fort from intruders.

“Tear this wall down!”

“THIS IS STILL A BAD IDEA.  WE CANNOT LET THEM GET IN.  MY MICROLINE PYRAM...”

“It is necessary.  The elves are waiting outside to trade with us.”

As the dwarfs continue to remove the protective external walls they get a better view of the elven merchants.  Suddenly, a colorfully fletched arrow strikes a merchant in the forehead.  No one moves as the elf's head snaps back and the protruding arrow pays homage to the clear blue sky.  His body topples and strikes the ground before the other merchants begin to flee.  Chaos consumes the formerly calm scene as kobold ambushers slaughter the elves and loot their richly stocked caravan.

“Stop!  Put them back up!  We need these walls right now!”

“I TOLD YOU”

[lolghurt]

“I TOLD YOU”

"ALSO GET THE FUCKING REFUSE PILE OFF MY PYRAMID CEMETERY. IF YOU ARE SO INTENT ON GOING OUTSIDE PUT THE GARBAGE THERE INSTEAD."

[Graebeard]

The refuse pile is gone.  I've been deconstructing that platform, but the deconstruction is only partially complete at the end of my turn.

[lolghurt]

The refuse pile is gone.  I've been deconstructing that platform, but the deconstruction is only partially complete at the end of my turn.

awesome. Turn 9 will be epic.

[Graebeard]

Act II Scene 4

Setting: Graebeard’s room.  He furiously marks up his journal.  His left shoulder twitches intermittently, but the quill perfectly traces his words without disturbance.

“Our plan to embrace the outside world failed as miserably as the naysayers predicted.  We can’t open the fort because none of us are soldiers, and I don’t know how we can get soldiers without opening the fort.  What’s worse is that two more abominations have joined Sest in the caverns below.  We can’t even harvest the tower caps or collect the abounding webs…”

“With the outside world remaining closed, we have repressed focused our attention on our home’s interior.  The noble’s quarters project has left us with an uncomfortable amount of quartzite littering the hallways.  I’ve developed a spiraling cap to our tower in response.  This pattern can be iterated upwards as far as we desire.  For now I am satisfied with building as high as our supplies of white stone allow.”

“We’ve also decided to continue our expansion downwards.  Apprehension and excitement accompany each stroke of my pick.”

“We dig.”

[Graebeard]

Act II Scene 5

Setting: a narrow mineshaft.  Swinging picks hew a stairwell from the living, multicolored rock below the miners’ feet.  Above, the others remove the vibrant stone stairs, with their organic swirls of ore and color, and replace them with perfectly smooth and uniform stairs constructed from shiny but sickly green olivine.

 “dig do still we Why?  already another breached cavern We.  and full It mud of vermin was webs.  down find further more only We’ll.”

“We have no choice.  Analog was right.  We must strive for greatness.  Since we cannot expand outwards we must focus below our feet and above our heads.”

 “But disorderly down here it’s so.”

“You know we’re working on that.  Just look at the stairs up there.”

“are beautiful They.”

“Yes, they are.  And imagine what we can do once our glass furnaces are up and running.”

“Yes.  is that What?”

“What do you mean?”

“pick Your…”

Graebeard lifts his pick and strikes the native silver floor one more time.  The pick passes through the richly veined stone as if it were a wet tissue.

“Is that water I hear?”

“Äs Dear!  The smell!”

Through the hole the dwarfs make out a zombie serpent man fouling the cavern waters below them.

“it Seal!”

“Wait, do you see that blue glint over there!  That’s a vein of adamantine!”

“Äs Praise!  But is that what? built curious that structure Who?

Hearing the conversation from above, lolghurt hurries down the mine shaft, her ponderous weight moving unbelievably quickly.

“CLOSE IT YOU FOOLS”

“What? Wait, why…”

“MOVE THERES NO TIME”

“But we need to find out who built that…”

“NO THEY COULD GET IN FLOOR IT NOW.

Hesitantly, Graebeard floors over the breach, sealing away both the riches beyond and the makers of that temple-like structure.

“We keep our distance for now.  But someone made those perfectly smoothed and even walls.  We WILL find out who it was.  I have a feeling they’re just like us…”

And with that I finish my turn.  I took way longer than I wanted, but it was really fun trying to capture the turn in dialog as much as I could rather than in a journal format.  I hope it all makes some sense.

Here is the save and the map with lots of POIs.

My first focus was on using up the quartzite we'd dug out to build the spiral up.  I also wanted to open the fort to traders in order to lure some immigrants in, but the kobolds ambushed the elven traders as soon as they arrived.

From there I decided to dig down.  We've reached the second and third caverns and the magma sea.  The caverns are sealed, and the magma industry is ready to start churning out metal and glass.  I meant to flood the bottom most floor with magma, but I forgot to channel through the wall before my turn was over.

Also, in a fit of real OCD I replaced the annoying orthoclase and microcline stairs with olivine.  From there I just decided to make the entire central stairway green.  It's really satisfying in a ridiculously petty way.

Analog, looks like you're up!  Knock em' dead.

[Argembarger]

Awesome turn as usual.

I must say, it seems we've constructed the tower in a really prime spot. I mean, we have been able to build within it's shadow so well, it's remarkable. We haven't had to shift it over to accommodate an underwater lake or magma or anything. It's been breaching caverns in pretty good locations too.