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[SalmonGod]

28th Granite, 128  (a bit of a rewind before the last update... I forgot to include this bit of news)

“Umm… you dropped something…” Remarks Whipsea to Laboraged as they work together digging out a galena vein.

“What?... Oh!... So I did!  Let’s see here……. Oh dear……”

Walldrink, Laboraged’s first child, takes a nervous step back.  “Mommy… what is that…”

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

“Well… I suppose this this your new sister, beardybumpkins.  Let's name her... ugh... umm... Torridpainted.”

Pillarmarket peeks around the corner.  “What the fuck Labor?!  How do you keep getting abominations like that from a stud like Fleshring?!  Oh… sorry Walldrink…”

Walldrink glares and storms off…  “MOM I’LL BE UPSTAIRS GETTING DRUNK.”

“Look I didn’t mean it like that!  You’re actually really normal which is weird because your dad’s a hulking beast!”

Laboraged sighs and begins wrapping the new child up to attach to her back, to leave her hands free for her pick.  “Pillar, you need to be more careful with your words.  You know Walldrink is… fragile… Anyway.  I don’t know.  I just don’t know what to say.  Might as well go get this baby her first drink, while I run control on your damage.  I’m going on break.”


15th Galena, 128

Sternlance wipes his brow and takes a deep breath.  It doesn’t help.  The hot air just sears her lungs.  As an ice dwarf, he’s just not built to withstand such temperatures.  Still, he must respect the vote of the more senior miners of the settlement.  He only migrated in a couple weeks ago, after all, and this is his chance to prove himself.

He digs several feet into the raw quartzite before him, into the area that was estimated by the heat as possibly containing magma.  This is why the vote was held.  This is a dangerous job.  It appears the estimations were correct, though.  This rock is warm because it’s above the magma, not next to it. 

Next comes the important part of the job.  Sternlance tears into the floor in front of him with his pickaxe.  A hole opens up.  There is magma beneath.  There is also enough space to safely poke one’s head through the hole for a look around.

The magma sea at this location was found to be quite unusually near to the surface.  In fact, the stone gets so hot that it’s all semi-molten about 40 floors down from the surface, and further digging becomes impossible.  There’s so much magma just beneath the caverns, which begin a mere 10 floors beneath the surface, that this spot was selected just to get a view of the layout of the magma deposits so gems and ores could be found easier.

It’s a good spot.  Sternlance can see a good distance around at all the magma-filled caverns.  Just as he begins taking notes, a peculiar blue spire grabs his attention just to the south…

“Could it be?!.... Adamantine!!!  Pillarmarket, we’ve found adamantine!!!”

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

“Are you sure?  Move over, let me get a look!..... Holy shit!  I’ll go inform Merchantseized immediately!”

---

“Adamantine?... are you sure?”  Merchantseized grabs Pillarmarket by the wrist and drags her quickly into her office where this news won’t be overhead.

“Absolutely.  Nothing else underground has that obvious texture.  I’ve never seen it before, but it quite plainly matches the unique description in all our ancient lore.  A tight-woven net of shiny blue metal cloth.”

“You know what else that lore mentions… this is dangerous stuff…”

Pillarmarket nods…

“Don’t tell anyone.  We don’t need a mad rush of greed gripping Baldedgilds.  Don’t strike it yet, either.  We don’t need to stumble into any trouble… not until our soldiers are equipped yet, anyway.  Mine around it.  Determine its shape.  This is going to be a serious operation, and we need to know more.”


15th Sandstone, 128

Merchantseized nearly jumps out of his seat, “YOU DID WHAT?!”

“38 Urists.  Raw adamantine.”  Pillarmarket leans her chair back and kicks her feet up on the table, looking quite pleased with herself.

“But… you’ve heard the tales!  You could have ended this place!”

“We were careful.  They say the danger lies in the core of the spires.  We’ve isolated the spire by mining out the strands that were snaking away from it.  We decided it was worth it.  Us miners know the troubles we face.  No flux.  Caravans not helpful.  We heard about the ezrakim merchants that just left.  Nothing but wood, cloth, and leather?... I think we did the right thing.”  Pillarmarket fingers the tip of her pickaxe.

Merchantseized sighs… “You’re right.  We need it.  The thieves are appearing with more frequency, and I think it’s only a matter of time before they come in numbers.  We need to equip ourselves, and we couldn't ask for any better way.  Go get Boltpicks, and tell her to bring the most recent inventory of our stocks.  I need to reconfigure our arming strategy.  OH!  And do some more exploring.  I want you to map out the entire magma sea.  Let’s see if there’s any more of these spires hidden about.”

[SalmonGod]

7th Moonstone, 128  (Edit:  Whoa!  Ok I guess Threehalls is actually my new mayor, and I failed to catch the announcement.  I saw the name and assumed it must be the liaison.)

Goden Sobirsazir, Baldedgild’s liaison to the king and queen of The Special Dike, steps into the office of Threehalls, the newly elected mayor.  “Threehalls... where is Merchantseized?  I thought she was popular.”

Threehalls sits up a little straighter.  “She stepped down, actually, claiming it was more important for her to focus on forging weapons than acting as mayor.  So there was a fresh round of elections.”

"Ok... well I have some big news for you."  Goden sits and clears his throat.  “The king and queen have been impressed with your progress and survival, especially your low casualty rates.  They now consider these lands officially claimed in the name of The Special Dike, and you are to be appointed a baron.  As the currently elected leader, they have requested a recommendation from you.  Your selection will most likely be elevated to royalty.”

Threehalls leans back and looks up at the ceiling contemplatively.  “This is good news.  With this recognition we’ll all feel less alone out here.  I only have one recommendation for the barony.  It’s only right that a founder receives the honor.  They laid the foundation and suffered the harshest conditions of any of us doing so.  Only 3 of them are left, and two have questionable backgrounds… which only leaves one.  Craftpuzzling, who was also the first leader of this outpost.  There’s no better choice.”
 
“I will relate this to the royalty back home.  Keep up the good work.”  Goden stands, strikes a menacing pose (as is the custom among Special Dike royalty), and leaves.

[SalmonGod]

14th Moonstone, 128

Craftpuzzling steps briskly into the mayor's office and shuts the door behind her.  "Why was I called here?  Something wrong?  I'm churning out blocks as fast as I can, I tell you!"

Threehalls holds up a hand.  "No.  This is nothing bad.  Have a seat... A week ago, the liaison informed me that we are to become a barony.  As the original expedition leader here at Baldedgilds and surviving founder of least questionable history, you have been selected for elevation to noble status.  Our lands are to be known as The Arena of Dance."

Craftpuzzling jumps right back up out of her seat.  "NO WAY!  I... I don't know what to say!... Except... I need a decent office, bedroom, dining room, tomb... umm let's see... I'd also like 2 chests, a weapon rack, an armor stand, and a cabinet.  AS ROYALTY I DEMAND THESE THINGS!"

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Threehalls cringes at the list of demands, and stands up as if a great weight is pushing down on him and Craftpuzzling's words continue to wash over him.  "Ok.  Ok.  OK!... I'll get right on it!  Go... back to cutting stone blocks, so I can work on getting you these things!"

Threehalls pushes Craftpuzzling out the door as urgently, but politely as possible, then slams it shut and leans her back against it.  After catching her breath and stilling her mind for a moment, a thought strikes... "hmm.... I don't have any of that stuff either... sure would be nice..."

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

20th Moonstone, 128

Threehalls wipes the sweat from her brow as she descends the ramps to the lowest levels of Baldedgilds, where news has been erupting from the exploratory operations... more adamantine.  The air stings the lungs down here.  She gains renewed respect for Merchantseized.  She may not have agreed with everything about the previous leader, but she could at least be certain of her dedication.  She braved these conditions every day to work at the forges with Seizewhips.  Threehalls rounds one last corner to find Pillarmarket overseeing the team of 6 miners as they excavate the stone surrounding one glorious sight -- a giant column of shiny blue material with texture like a spool of thread.

"So this is it?... It really is as beautiful as the stories say... captivating..."

"Yup!  This one's much bigger than the last one, too.  So far we've determined it continues up at least one more floor.  I'm about to draw up the plans to see how much farther it goes.  We're should get a lot of use-able material out of this."

"I couldn't ask for better news!  Keep up the good work, all of you!  I just wanted to see it for myself, so I'd better be off now.  Craftpuzzling just decided she can't really be nobility without a scepter.  Two in fact... one for each hand.  So I need to see to that."

Pillarmarket shakes her head in a frustrated manner.  "Why wasn't I chosen?!  I'd at least ask for reasonable things, like a catapult that shoots kittens through a magmafall and straight into the brook, where they instantly solidify into little obsidian statues in action poses of genuine feline grace!"

"Umm... that's... an intriguing idea, actually, but something we wouldn't get to work on for a long time.  Then you'd get all pissed off and have someone killed for lack of patience.  No."  Threehalls turns to leave, shaking her head.

Pillarmarket shrugs and returns to cutting chunks of impossibly tough metal thread from the giant spool.

[SalmonGod]

11th Slate, 129

Huffing and puffing with urgency, Lashnation, Shotspark, Saintlance, and Booksly sprint up the main ramp in response to the alarm.  There's no time to gather carefully.  A wave of two dozen migrants approarches. from the south, and the threat must be intercepted from the northeast to buy them time.  This unlucky team just happens to be the closest.  They're unarmored and barely armed.  As newer recruits, their equipment has been lowest priority in production orders, and the rush to produce adamantine armor for high profile soldiers isn't close to finished.

The three marksdwarves reach the intercept point at roughly the same time, with Saintlance's =black bronze warhammer= weighing her down to the rear.  Shotspark and Booksly begin firing as soon as the creature is sighted.  It's horrifically intimidating.  If the meat of the military doesn't show up quickly, they will be torn to pieces.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Lashnation only had time to grab her crossbow, but no quiver.  Without hesitation, she charges so that her comrades may continue to fire at will.  "FOR BALDEDGIIIIIIILDS!!"

The wyvern pounces, but she dives to the side.  The beast is gigantic, incredibly fat, and slow.  She has time to bash at its limb with her crossbow before it recovers, tearing open a shallow gash.  To buy itself time as it recovers its balance, the creature spews a cloud of acid.  Lashnation catches it full on, shielding her eyes with her left forearm, which the wyvern wounds deeply with a swipe from its claws.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

As it's wholly distracted, Shotspark nails it in the gut with a bolt, producing another shallow wound.  It wastes no time in charging her as she reloads, shattering a toe and knocking her to the ground.  Shotspark's pet Bulldog leaps over her prone body, prepared to fearlessly defend his master.  He snaps at the beast's feet, prompting it to dance for a few seconds to avoid getting bit.  It quickly lands a giant claw on one of the dog's paws, pinning him in place helplessly in the midst of another cloud of acid vapor.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

As the dog rolls howling on the ground in agony, the wyvern turns to claw again at the recovering Shotspark, tearing open her lower torso.  She crumples to the ground, struggling to contain her insides.  Lashnation completely loses composure and breaks away from the fight.  The wyvern turns once again to the nearest threat, sinking its teeth deep into the Bulldog's gut, and injecting it with acid.  It then proceeds to trample the poor canine, taking joy in the shattering of bones.

Booksly lets loose another bolt, and this one strikes deep into the wyvern's upper leg.  It ignores this and continues to torture the dog.  Shotspark struggles up to one knee and fires a bolt from her crossbow, tearing through its wing.  The wyvern realizes this isn't the time to play, and simply squashes the dog's head beneath its massive claw.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

It turns to face a new challenger, Saintlance charging with hammer held high!  Lashnation finds renewed courage at the sight, and turns to charge in unison.  The wyvern leaps over them and they stumble past, both falling over.  The three face off for several seconds, striking, dodging, and weaving, until Lashnation catches one quick strike from the beast's wing to her shoulder, shattering it.  Lashnation isn't phased by the pain in the slightest, immediately bashing with her crossbow... mostly ineffectually.  It stomps on her ankle and shatters it.  She continues to bash with her crossbow, the two combatants completely foregoing defense in favor of raw damage.  She leaves a shallow gash in its jaw.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

But suddenly its strength appears to fail.  It begins vomiting.  It appears the exertion of expelling so much acid has taken a toll.  It stumbles and wretches.  The dwarves press the attack, landing multiple shallow blows.  Lashnation grabs its rear leg with one bare hand and rips a chunk of flesh away.  She then circles around in front of the beast and scratches at its throat, leaving a deep gash... but also catching another burst of acid directly in the face.  She drops to the ground and joins in the vomiting.

All of the original combatants except Saintlance are in sorry shape at this point, but Cloistercarried, captain of The Oily Urns, has arrived and begins hacking at it with her bronze short sword.  The two of them have the wyvern, now known as Fieryflame, reeling.  Soon Friendlymountain shows up with his sun gold sickle-sword, the first military weapon of Baldedgild's repertoire, and joins in the offensive.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Finally, Cloistercarried manages to knock Fieryflame over with a stab to one of its claws, quickly following up with a stab to the back of its skull.  At the same time, it catches a -siltstone bolt- deep in its throat.  The beast appears to be nearing its end.  It attempts to spew more acid, but its mouth only drips.  The effort sends it into more retching convulsions.  Soon it's crawling and flailing pathetically under the force of the dwarven onslaught.  After a couple hours of hacking and beating, it finally stops moving.

The greatest threat yet faced by Baldedgilds is ended... but will Lashnation and Shotspark survive their injuries?

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Cloistercarried stays behind to welcome the migrants, as the others help the wounded down to the hospital.  "Welcome to Baldedgilds!  Watch your step.  There's acid mixed in with this blood.  Which of you wants the job of cleaning this up?"

[SalmonGod]

14 Slate, 128

Royalsabre examines the corpse of Saintlance solemnly... "Who here can tell me what happened?"

"He was coughing a lot.  Then he started stumbling around, coughing and wheezing up a storm.  Finally, he fell over dead." replied the four year old, Towerfound.

"It must be this acid.  He's covered in the stuff.  He's not injured otherwise.  It's the only explanation..."

---

"You and Shotpick are so lucky to be alive..."  Royalsabre examines Lashnation's massive scarring tenderly.

"Yeah... you know I was expecting that green goo to kill me more than my wounds.  That stuff kinda burned."

"I notice you still have some of that stuff on you, but I'm not noticing a cough.  This stuff killed Saintlance.  How did it not effect you?"

"Saintlance is dead?!... terrible news... I don't know.  I've always been of sound health.  That's all I can say."

"I think I should check on everyone else who came in contact with it."

---

Royalsabre knocks on the mayor's office door and steps in.

"So?  What's your conclusion?  Can we expect anymore casualties?"

"I've been observing the subjects for about a week.  As far as I can tell, there should be no more casualties, but.... of those who came in contact with the acid, three others besides Saintlance were actually effected.  Something is obviously not right about them.  They don't form sentences well and stumble a bit.  On closer examination, I found their spines to be... soft..."

"That's creepy..."

Royalsabre nods... "But their health has been stable for a good while.  I don't think they're going anywhere.  Saintlance was just weak, I suppose."

(OOC:  Everyone who was effected by the wyvern's acid appears to have the entire length of their spine and their brain rotten.  After several pages of vomiting, they went on about their duties normally, however, and never sought treatment.)

[SalmonGod]

18th Felsite, 129

An ambush!  Curse them!

Fortunately, it's discovered by a lone, wandering eland.  The commotion is spotted from a good distance away, as the lizardfolk raiding party tears the innocent creature to pieces.  The alarm is sounded, and a good portion of the military has plenty of time to gather as the enemy does their dirty work.

One lizardfolk witch notices the gathering of dwarves and charges them alone.  Fleshring steps forward to meet her.  This is his first battle with a real weapon, a masterwork red steel battle axe.  He takes to it naturally, severing a leg in two strikes.  Out of habit, he then punches the witch a couple times before chopping her head off.

The rest of the lizardfolk see this just as it finishes, and hesitate... There's a couple more minutes of stare-down.  More dwarven soldiers gather at the surface.  The lizardfolk begin slowly walking backwards, away from the challenge.

"Fuck that!  I'm a steel dwarf too!  It's my turn for glory!"  Shieldtrailed charges towards the group, and the rest of the soldiers follow.  Her limbs are promptly shattered, as she throws herself into the crowd of macemen.  They begin with her hands, immediately forcing her to drop her weapon and shield, then reduce her arms and legs to mush.  She still manages to cause some moderate wounds in the following mass melee, by catching flailing limbs in her teeth.  Her tenacity is unquestionable.  If only her judgement were so infallible.

Other dwarves are injured, but not nearly so badly.  There are a few more broken bones, but the soldiers of Baldedgilds respond with severed limbs.  Fleshring isn't the only one with a red steel battle axe.  He is certainly the most ferocious, though.  Every wound he inflicts is crippling, and he enjoys giving his axe a rest now and then to bite, tear, and strike with shattering force.  Another ambush is spotted a short distance away, but they're not close enough to engage before Fleshring stomps the final lizardfolk maceman's brain in.

As the Baldedgilds military moves in on the second ambush, a third is spotted to the north of the main entrance.  This time, it's illithids!  At the very same time, a lizardfolk mystic master thief leaps up from beneath a clever brush covering and stabs Craftedpriced in the face.  He's lucky.  He only loses a tooth.  The thief then escapes, as does the second lizardfolk ambush.

All attention turns to the illithids.  It's a race to prevent them from gaining access to the main ramp.  Cloistercarried is the first to arrive, with only a new recruit named Winterattics nearby.  Her lone charge proves much more impressive than Shieldtrailed's, though.  She tackles one illithid standing several steps away from the main group to the ground and pounds the crap out of it for several seconds, then rolls away as the rest of the group comes near.  They press the attack as forcefully as they can, but she nimbly jumps and rolls and scrambles from harm.  She is eventually caught, however, and the feeding frenzy begins. 

Ancienthall reaches the fight at that moment, however, carrying a ray of hope for Cloistercarried.  She immediately spills the guts of one illithid with her red steel battle axe, and sets to work on hurting more.  Cloistercarried is already down, however, and the illithids can spare a couple to turn their attentions.  Both Cloistercarried and Ancienthall fight determinedly through terrible wounds.  Cloistercarried is far too outmatched, and soon nothing but a ragged and torn bag of flesh and bones in the ashes.  Ancienthall lasts not much longer before ending up the same.  Winterattics is caught in a duel, and also taking grave injuries.

More dwarves reach the illithids as soon as the two captains are dispatched.  The illithids don't last long around Fleshring.  Winterattices lives to see the end of the battle, only to die of suffocation immediately afterwards.  No one speaks as they go back to their regular duties.  Two highly respected military leaders just sacrificed themselves to the defense of Baldedgilds.

[SalmonGod]

4th Malachite, 129

"Craftpuzzling, your highness, we're working on it!  For the love of adamantine, calm down already!"  Threehalls pleads with Craftpuzzling in her unfurnished chambers.  A dozen workers work frantically nearby, smoothing the stone of her floors.

"IT'S BEEN MONTHS!  I DEMAND MY TRIFLE PEWTER FURNITURE NOW!  I WANT A NICE OFFICE AND DINING ROOM NOW!"

"These things take time!  Trifle pewter is a complex alloy!  The ingredients for it are in short supply, so we're working carefully not to waste them!  Just be patient!"

"I LIKE YOUR OFFICE BETTER THAN MINE!  WHY DO YOU OF LESSER RANK HAVE A NICER OFFICE?!"

"What are you talking about?!  My office is much smaller than yours and was carved out hastily years ago just so Pillarmarket would have a place to work when she was mayor!  Seriously, we're focusing so much on your right now, that our injured soldiers in the hospital are being neglected!  You have nothing to complain about!"

"YOU ARE CLEARLY INCOMPETENT!  GRRRRRR!!!!  HOW CAN I ACT AS NOBILITY WITHOUT.... wait.... I have an idea..."  Craftpuzzling suddenly sweeps out of the room and rushes up to the mason's hall.

Soon she has gathered several chunks of rock and a log of wood... but isn't seen again.  The door to the workshop is locked, with pictures of skeletons engraved hastily outside of it.  Threehalls understands.  "Boltpick!  Put out an order to slaughter some livestock!"


23rd Malachite, 129

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Why does every threat to Baldedgilds seem to escalate mainly in fatness?  Anyway...

A good portion of the military assembles quickly outside.  Craftstalks draws first blood, with an olivine bolt to one of its many cheeks.  Glazehonor charges in and starts bashing ineffectively with his crossbow.  Wheelstour charges in just behind him, but the wyvern snaps at her as she approaches, cleanly tearing off her left breast.  She fights through the immense pain to block a couple more attacks with her cobalt shield.  She can't block the full weight of the immensely obese creature, as it charges and knocks her to the ground.  She blocks the first head that bites at her as she falls, but there are 6 more to follow.  One immense jaw full of teeth encompasses her midsection and shakes her around.  She can only scream helplessly as the blood is flailed from her body.  Several other dwarves bash at the hydra with their crossbows, but to very little effect.  It ignores them while claiming its first victim.

Bronzepainted charges in with a red steel battle axe and cleanly severs one of the beast's heads with a well placed strike.  This pisses it off.  It flails another one of its heads into Moistnesswhip, sending him sprawling.  Another head bites Bronzepainted in the leg, and pulls it straight out of his hip in one vicious motion.

"AAAGGGHH!!  TO THE WITH ME AFTERLIFE EVEN TO COME!!!!"  The rotten-brained Bronzepainted remains standing on one leg just long enough to place a solid strike on one of the hydra's legs, cutting very deep.  It snaps at him again and removes his right hand with even more ease than it did the leg.  He catches his falling battle-axe with his left hand, and chops at the beast's tail as its ripping motion leaves it vulnerable.  He falls with the weight of his swing and passes out before hitting the ground, bleeding out within seconds.  So passes the second captain of the Kindling of Treaties.

Next is Moistnesswhip.  The wyvern latches onto his arm and rips it out of her shoulder, like so many limbs before... but this time it throws itself off balance with the turn of its head.  It teeters on the edge of its balance for a moment, before crashing to the ground.  Its enormous weight sends shudders through the entire settlement, and dust rains from the ceilings.  While the beast had many heads, it only had one supply of blood.  Losing just one head ran that supply dry quite quickly.  Bronzepainted made good on his promise, and receives the appropriate honors in the weeks ahead.

[SalmonGod]

15th Galena, 129

"Are you in charge here?"

Threehalls pauses at the sudden question from a clearly non-dwarf voice, and turns.  "Yes?  How did you get in?  Did no one escort you?"

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"Escort?  You'd be the most disciplined dwarves I've ever heard of.  I'm here to represent the Confederacy of Oars.  We've sent caravans here before, but now that this place is a barony, we intend to establish diplomatic relations.  Where is the baroness?"

Threehalls runs his hand down his face in exhasperation.  "I was about to go visit her, actually... we're having some problems... walk with me."

"Problems?..."

The elf follows for only a few steps before they're interrupted... by a battered Whipsea.  "Mayor.  Your new rooms have been excavated."

"Whipsea!  What happened to you?!  Nevermind!  Wait for me at my office.  We'll discuss it there.  Go get us drinks on your way."

Whipsea strikes a very half-hearted menacing pose and leaves.  The elf glances questioningly, but Threehalls ignores it...

"I encountered an especially heroic soldier on my way here.  He bludgeoned a flock of gargoyles with only one arm to secure my passage.  The wound where his other arm should have been looked fresh.  Why is he serving duty right now?  Why is there so much blood outside?  What's going on here?"

Threehalls sighs heavily.  "I'm taking you to our first problem right now.  As for the blood outside, the illithids and lizardfolk have taken an interest in us lately.  Ever since... nevermind.  That's for Craftpuzzling to decide, if she ever sees fit to come out into the world again.  Watch your step.  This is the mason's hall.  Our baroness is behind the third door on the left."

They squeeze between tightly packed piles of large boulders.  One of the masons pops out from behind one.  "Threehalls?  Hey, I kinda wanted to talk to you, if that's ok."

"Oh?  I'm sorry this place is growing so fast, I can't remember everyone's names anymore."

"It's Garlicbeard, sir.  I have some suggestions."

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"Go wait by my office.  I'll be there in a bit.  Grab us both a drink on your way."  Threehalls turns to the elf diplomat  "I'm terribly sorry about that ahhh... what's your name now?"

"Dokerte Saseituho--"

"STOP!... I'll just call you Dok."

"Seriously?  Please show me to the baron already, so I can engage in some real diplomacy!"

"We're here.  She's behind this door."  Threehalls indicates the heavy siltstone door before them, which is plastered heavily with very hastily engraved images of skeletons, forests, quarries, gems, bars of metal, and stacks of cloth and leather.  The chaotic arrangements of the images suggests either deep mental disturbance or decades of graffiti.

Dok takes a step back... "In here?  Ok tell me what's going on now."

"How much do you know about us dwarves?  Have you heard why our crafts are so highly prized?"

"Is there some secret?"

"Dwarves get taken by extreme inspirations.  Something just snaps into place inside of us, and we become wholly consumed by an idea.  In fact, it occupies our minds so much that we lose the ability to communicate normally.  One of our recent incidents described it to me as trying to form words when you're on fire.  Of course... he produced a gargoyle bone cap worth a measly 600 Urist, but that's beside the point.  One of these moods us what lays before you.  She's behind that door, probably gnawing her own fingers off with the burning desire to produce the idea that has consumed her... and these engravings are what she claims to need.  The thing is, we have all of these things."  Threehalls bangs angrily on the door and screams "YOU HEAR ME!!!  WE HAVE ALL THESE THINGS!!!"

A faint whimper emanates from behind the door.  Threehalls tries to open it, but it's locked.

"What happens if this isn't resolved?"

"Eventually she'll go mad.  Her mind will burn out irreparably.  She might go drown herself in the brook.  She might go berserk and attack anything that moves.  She might just crawl around pathetically for months until she dies of thirst.  We need to get whatever it is she needs."

"Ok.  I'll wait around for a while.  The caravan I was traveling with shouldn't be far behind me.  See what you can get from them."

"A caravan?... Did anything follow you?"

"Follow us elves?  Never!  Don't you know--"

"OK!  Nevermind.  Excuse me."  Threehalls runs down to his office, craving a drink to numb all the bullshit.

"Umm... mayor?  I'll be quick"  Garlicbeard hands him a drink as he pushes past the her and Whipsea to enter his office.

"Yes come in.  Sit.  Tell me your ideas."  He sits in his official seat starts chugging the potato vodka.

"I know you assigned me mason duties, but it's just not for me.  You have others who are much better suited.  I know exactly how I could be more use to Baldedgilds.  I've seen how much our soldiers are getting hurt.  We need more protection for them.  We need to start training some war beasts."

"Yes I've been thinking much the same myself.  Do you have some experience as a trainer?"

"Well... no... I was hoping to place cages... and maybe start eradicating some of the annoying wildlife.  I can keep the wild turkeys off our plant gatherers while placing cages for useful creatures or invaders.  I know that traps are frowned upon among The Special Dike, but captured enemies can be placed in an arena."

"Ok.  You're relieved of mason duty.  Go hunting.  We won't have any cages for a while, though.  Dismissed.  Come on in Whipsea!"

Whipsea enters with a large mug in each hand.  "Glow berry wine, Threehalls?"

"Yes.  Please."  Threehalls takes a big, long, desperate swig.  "Now tell me.  Where'd you get all those bruises?"

"Craftpuzzling."

"Why am I not surprised?  Tell me the story."

"I was on break near our last mining order.  I caught a glimpse of our baroness near the stream of busy dwarves around the central ramp.  Her skin was all red.  Clenched fists.  Murderous glare in her eyes... which turned to me.  She started moving towards me.  I ran.  She chased me around for half an hour before cornering me in the hospital.  Punched me several times and then just walked away, seeming satisfied."

Threehalls shakes his head and takes another swig.  "She'll be the death of us... Maybe we should just lock her in that workshop and re-select our barony?..."

"Mayor no!  She's a founder.  Even if she has a bizarre temper, she still has my respect."

"Well we better find the materials she wants, anyway... and finish with her demands before she finished her work, or she might tear this place apart...  Whipsea.  You better go get started on excavating a jail.  I think we'll need it soon."

"Got it.  Enjoy your drink, Threehalls"

[SalmonGod]

18th Galena, 129

"We've been followed!!!!" Cries the ezrakim merchant as he sprints down the main ramp.  The Baldedgilds military assembles outside to help the remaining merchants.

Outside, they find a single ezrakim with a sun gold war hammer standing between the lizardfolk and the fleeing merchants.  The two parties are mostly staring each other down.  A couple lizarfolk bowman fire crescent arrows intermittently, testing for a weakness.  The elf blocks and dodges them with ease.  A couple marksdwarves arrive and begin firing bolts.  The storm of projectiles quickly intensifies.  The dwarven bolts only bruise the lizardfolk through their thick scales and leather armor.  The first crescent arrow to inflict any harm knocks Minesunk's left breast clean off.  It becomes clear that the shoot out will not go well, and the elf charges.  The dwarves join in behind.  \

The elf quickly brings down a bowman, disabling it before smashing in its skull.  Atticbeaches takes a crescent arrow to the leg, wounding it deeply, but not slowing her charge.  The small squad of lizardfolk archers doesn't last long in melee, with no more wounds inflicted on any dwarf.  One enemy escapes.


19th Galena, 129

Threehalls finishes his administrative business and goes up to check on Craftpuzzling once more.  As he approaches the workshop door... "Is that... growling?"  He places his ear against the door.  It's growling... which quickly escalates to horrific screams of anguish!  Suddenly he's knocked away as something hits the door with terrible force.  It begins to fly open, but Threehalls understands what's happening.  He bolts back up with lightning speed and catches the door handle before it's opened wide enough for a dwarf to fit through.  An arm reaches through up to the shoulder beneath a pair of wildly bloodlusting eyes.  Threehalls kicks the creature back, buying him just enough time to shut and lock the door.  He collapses to the ground for a few minutes to calm his panic and catch his breath... then goes on a grim tour of the fortress to spread the news.

"EVERYONE TAKE HEED!  DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES OPEN THE THIRD DOOR ON THE LEFT IN THE MASON'S HALL!  I REPEAT!  THE THIRD DOOR ON THE LEFT IN THE MASON'S HALL IS FORBIDDEN UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!"

No one bothers to ask why.  The news is well understood by all.

[SalmonGod]

(Note:  I just upgraded to the latest patch of Genesis mod.  The main difference is the removal of fire and ice immunities from dwarves, which was in as a psuedo-bug side-effect of the obsidian & ice dwarf castes.  Those castes have now been changed to have specialized skills instead of being dwarven elementals.  I also went ahead and removed the obsidian fire attacks.  It's slightly story-altering, but worth it, considering how broken and annoying it was.)

22nd Galena, 129

Mineswims, a recent migrant drafted directly into the reserves, stands at attention in Fleshring's office.  "Sir.  The illithids are torturing a baby turkey outside.  The haulers are currently gathering trade goods strewn about the battlefield.  They're going to need cover."

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"HAHAHA!!!  I love it!  The action never ends around here!  Go spread the word.  Tell any troops you can find to gather at the entrance."  Fleshring goes to collect his weapon, a cheery bounce in his step.

---

On the surface, about a dozen dwarves gather and prepare to attack the ambush before it can cause harm to any civilians.  Pagefill draws first blood, with a well-placed =siltsone bolt= damaging an illithid lung. 

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

There's a short volley of bolts, with a couple illithids taking wounds, before the melee begins.  Ringdented immediately severs his opponent's right arm at the elbow, and then again at the shoulder. 

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Staffrun represents The Holy Steels in this battle, and fights to even greater effect.  The handful of illithids are quickly scattered, with only two escaping.  Staffrun declares the alert officially over and dismisses everyone to return to their civilian duties.  Just as the group turns, a winged illithid is seen flying about 10 feet over their heads.  It dodges a couple bolts, before Staffrun leaps into the air and lops off its foot!  The temporary shock and pain brings it low enough that Staffrun chops off a wing next.  It crashes to the ground and babbles in its alien tongue, probably pleeing for its life as it discovers what Staffrun does to enemies of Baldedgilds.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Everyone pats Fleshring on the shoulder on condolence after it's over, as he reaches top of the ramp just in time to see everyone filing back inside.

[SalmonGod]

3rd Limestone, 129

Fleshring knocks on Threehall's office door and steps in, solemnly.

"Fleshring?  What's the matter?  I see none of your typical gusto."

"Aye.  A real tragedy today.  Crowdworked, the only daughter of Mutelabors, was stolen just now.  We couldn't catch the thief.  I dunno which is worse: the theft or the mother's reaction.  She shrugged it off.  Said she could just make more."

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"An outstanding dwarf, then!  Duty above family!  It's a shame we've given the enemy a recruit, though."

Fleshring begins to tear up.  "Threehalls... I... I... I know my kids are freaks, but I love em!  I don't know what I'd do if they got stolen!  I'd probly kill all o yeh an still feel bad!"

Threehalls blinks awkwardly... "Fleshring.  I don't think you need to worry.  Your wife's a miner.  She's got your kids deep underground all the time.  Anyway, do you have any suggestions?"

Fleshring rubs his nose and gathers himself up again.  "Aye.  I asked Garlicbeard what he thought of the snatcher problems lately.  He said it's the summer weather.  Reptiles get more active in the heat.  We face a constant threat now.  We need to reorganized our squads and schedule patrols.  Our archer towers are a ways off, so some war dogs would be good help too."

"Go handle your soldiers.  I'll set up the animal training."

Fleshring strikes a menacing pose and leaves.  Threehalls slams down a few drinks to drown out the strangeness of this meeting.

[SalmonGod]

9th Sandstone, 129

"You really want to see her?  You're sure?  You won't get anything out of it."

"YES!  It's my responsibility as liaison!  I MUST make every attempt to meet with your baroness."

Threehalls sighs resignedly.  "I suppose there's no way around it.  You've been warned.  What you'll find is no longer the baroness.  You remember what I told you.  She snapped.  She can hardly be considered a dwarf now."

Dok shrugs.  Threehalls takes her to the mason's hall.  There's an eerie hush over this wing of the fortress.  Everywhere else bustles with the constant activity of 111 inhabitants.  There are workers here, too, but they're as quiet as they can be.  There's no talk.  No belching.  Hammers hit chisels with minimal force and extreme caution.  One hauler lays a siltstone boulder gingerly on the stockpile and then takes off running. 

Threehalls signals for silence as they navigate the piles of rock.  A faint, feral rasping, gnawing, and grumbling grows louder as they approach the now infamous third door on the left.  Threehalls positions himself next to the door, grasps the handle, and gives Dok a serious glare.  She nods.  He opens the door, as slowly and quietly as he is able.  Light floods into the small, dark room from the hall, revealing a horrific figure.

She's there, hunched in the corner, making strange motions with her head.  Her clothes have been reduced to sparse rags and tatters.  Her hair is torn out and scalp covered in scabs.  She's dreadfully malnourished.  Her breathing is laboured, both audibly and visibly as her ribcage, visible in detail just beneath the skin, inflates and deflates in an exaggerated fashion.  She pauses, suddenly, as the light floods the wall before her.

"Craftpuzz..."  Dok loses her will to speak immediately as the gaunt face of the creature once known as Craftpuzzling turns to face her.  Its eyes have sunked deeply into the skull, and the surrounding skin deeply bruised into mottled blues, purples, and greens.  The lower half of its face is covered in blood.  Its own.  As it turns full body and begins to stand, a growl quickly rising in its throat, it becomes plain that it was feasting on its own forearm.  Bone is visible where the flesh has been eaten away.  The growl rises to a horrific shriek as the tortured dwarf-like creature charges at the ezrakim liaison.  Threehalls slams the door shut in its face and locks it once again.  He's pale.  Clearly shaken deeply.

They both stumble back silently from the screams and frantic beating behind the door.  Dok trips and falls backwards on a rock.  She then bolts upright, with an expression something like resolve on her face "Right.  I'm done.  I hope to never visit this hellhole again.  If there is a next time, try to have your affairs in order."  Threehalls doesn't even bother to respond and she storms off into the surrounding wilderness.



Threehalls stays huddled in the stone stockpile for a long while, at first reeling emotionally from the encounter with the berserker dwarf, then lost in thought.  Eventually, he gets up and starts gathering materials.  Various people approach him with business, but he doesn't seem to recognize that anyone else exists.  He mutters to himself starts bringing stuff back to the never-before-used clothier's shop.

---

"Threehalls?... Good to see you!  Did you finally finish whatever you were on about?  Ok.  Shieldtrailed.  This is going to hurt.  A lot."  Royalsabre takes Shieldtrailed's mangled arm and braces it over his leg, then bends it back to proper straightness with very loud cracking of bone.  Shieldtrailed only grunts mildly.

Threehalls comes closer, holding a very elaborate rope.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"Yes.  This rope represents my growing hatred for elves.  Next time they show up all high and mighty, I'll consider binding them as livestock."  A shudder of rage passes briefly over Threehalls.  "This image is a tribute to Craftpuzzling, and the tragedy she was forced to endure in settling here.  I want this rope to be used for the well here in the hospital, where it can raise the spirits and resolve of the wounded or those returning from battle to wash off all the blood."

Royalsabre takes the rope and admires it for a good while, until Shieldtrailed clears her throat forcefully.  "Umm... can we finish this."

"Oh.  Right.  Threehalls.  This is a wonderful rope, and will be a great addition to our platinum supply cabinets and chests.  Thank you."  Royalsabre returns to setting Shieldtrailed's broken arm.

Threehalls returns to his normal duties, feeling quite reborn.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[SalmonGod]

13th Timber, 129

Drums approach.  War drums.  War cries can soon be heard as well.  The lizardfolk are coming.  This time they mean business.  They're coming in force.  No sneaking around.  They're here to destroy Baldedgilds.

Fleshring orders everyone inside, including military.  The gate is closed.  All soldiers are to take their time gathering, and meet the enemy with full force.

Threehalls meets Fleshring at the top of the ramp.  "So.  What are we facing?"

"Lizardfolk.  About a dozen to the south.  Pikes.  Illithids, too.  Must be working together."

"Illithids?  I don't see them..."

"Look southeast.  See them puff clouds?  Illithid toxin.  Think they're sneaky."

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

As Threehalls and Fleshring discuss the situation, soldiers gather around them.  Suddenly Shotspark, finally recuperated from his horrible injuries many months previously, points southward.  "Hey look!"

The illithids and lizardfolk have found each other.  They're not allied.  They're vicious enemies.  After a tough battle, including one great winged illithid who took a terrible beating alone from the entire lizardfolk unit to bring down, the illithids retreat and the weakened lizardfolk siege presses on.  Fleshring calls down below "Lower the gate!  Let's not give them time to recover!"

"Hey Fleshring.  Why aren't you wearing any armor?"

"Seriously?  I'm a steel dwarf!  Why should I need it!"

"Go put your armor on."

"... Fine.  Go on without me men!  You got this!"  Fleshring descends the main ramp to go get suited up, followed by Threehall.

The gate is lowered and everyone prepares themselves for the assault, except for Minegraves who runs out.  "Hey guys I'll be right back!  I want to grab something on the ground over there!"

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

He runs right into another illithid ambush.  They immediately begin ripping him to shreds.  Everyone else charges in a futile attempt to rescue.

Glazedluster breaks ahead of the pack and reaches the illithids well ahead of everyone else.  He quickly severs several enemy limbs with his =adamantine short sword=, while dodging or deflecting three times as many strikes from the enemy.  One illithid manages to punch out one of his teeth, but it fails to phase him in the slightest.  Paddlescaly of the Holy Steels is next to join in with an =adamantine spear=, causing comparable damages.

Roundednets, a fresh migrant recruit, outdoes them both by stabbing an illithid directly in the brain with a bronze short sword with his very first attack.  The illithid are quickly scattered, but every coward is caught and dismembered. 

The fight then turns to the lizardfolk.  The best fighters are a good distance away now, after chasing down the illithid, and a small group of recruits faces the reptilian siege alone.  Luckily, Staffrun of the Holy Steels is among them.  He latches onto one's leg with his teeth and begins violently shaking it around.  Another goes in for the kill as Staffrun is vulnerable, but Shotspark nails it between the eyes with a siltstone bolt, killing it instantly.

This small group of dwarves is quickly overwhelmed, however.  Staffrun is knocked to the ground and forced to roll about frantically dodging blows.  Shotspark can only reload so fast.  Princepaged is inexperienced, and unable to find time to strike at the enemy while dodging and parrying. 

Roundednets is the first to return from fighting illithid and gets a pike lodged in his left arm, unable shake free of it.  Another pike catches her in the right arm, pinning her in place between them.  A third lizardman drives a pike through her brain, efficiently ending her. 

Glazehonor is so enraged, he rushes forward to bite a lizardman in the gut, despite holding a spear in one hand.  He wedges his teeth behind the creature's scales and pulls at the flesh, while bashing its legs with the shaft of his spear.

Labortattoo is next to be swarmed by the majority of reptiles, and is brought down by multiple wounds before receiving a pike to the brain.  Things are looking bad for Baldedgilds, as the lizardfolk seem to be generating more casualties than the dwarves.

Soon the two militaries have clashed in full force, and the scene is chaos. 

Atticswords is mutilated and bleeds to death.  Lockbust bleeds out from a severed hand and foot.  Craftstalks receives a pike to the brain.  Roughnessdrinks, captain of The Gilded Portents, takes two deep wounds to the midsection and bleeds to death.  Inkmartyr bleeds to death from having both his feet cut off.

Paddlescaly of The Holy Steels single-handedly begins to turn the tide of the battle.  As the dwarves continue to suffer cripple injuries and losses, she moves through the enemy ranks with her masterwork red steel spear, running reptiles through their brains one at a time.

It's not enough, however, as Fortunemirror and Mineswims bleed to death from heavy wounds and all hell breaks loose.  The dwarves break ranks and scatter, even Paddlescaly, and the lizardfolk begin pursuing them all over the map.  Lulledchambers is caught and mutilated. 

Two more brave dwarves join in to turn the tide of the battle, though.  Inkbands charges into a duel and lands several blows with his black bronze warhammer, without taking any wounds himself.  Pagefill, the captain of The Helmed Rawnesses just reaches the surface and charges into another duel.  A white naga joins in the fight with Inkbands, ruining his advantage.  He takes a pike to the arm, severing a motor nerve, and forcing him to drop his weapon.  He soon receives a pike to the brain.  Pagefill loses a hand, and soon bleeds to death.  Glazehonor is caught and killed in a prolonged and brutal mutilation.

Glazeluster of The Holy Steels reaches the surface and joins the battle with an =adamantine short sword=, and Princepaged joins him.  Shotspark continues to fire bolts dutifully, and seems to be ignored by the lizardfolk.  These are the only three soldiers present who are still fighting.  Glazeluster soon takes a pike to the arm, which loses all strength and drops his weapon.  He takes off running.  Boardice, a marksdwarf, charges in to bash at Glazeluster's pursuer with his crossbow, and is rewarded with death for her heroism.

Finally Fleshring appears.  "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE!"  He charges in, fully suited in the best adamantine gear, and begins effortlessly cleaning up the mess.  The rest of the Holy Steels flock to him and together they're unstoppable.  Soon the task is reduced to following blood trails to finish off wounded enemies slowly crawling off the field.

Baldedgilds wins the battle, but suffers heavy losses.

14 dead
Several more severely wounded

As usual, the marksdwarf squads suffer the heaviest casualties from charging in expecting their crossbows to make effective clubs.

Fortunately, Baldedgilds is becoming quite rich, attracting regular waves of migrants.  The missing ranks are easily refilled.

[SalmonGod]

7th Moonstone, 129

Royalsabre kicks on the mayor's office door, urgent concern and frustration etched into his face.

"Come in."

Royalsabre steps in, not bothering to shut the door behind him.  "We need water!  Our soldiers are dying!"

"What?"

"Water!  The brook has frozen completely solid!  Early this year, too.  The well isn't finished.  We have no water.  The hospital is full of injured, and you should know that it's forbidden throughout dwarven society to give alcohol to patients!"

"Why is that anyway?... I never understood it."  Threehalls strokes his beard thoughtfully.

"Why do you think?  Give a dwarf alcohol and he goes to work!  Not a good thing when they need to stay in bed."

"Ah.  It makes sense now.  You know what you're asking for though, don't you?"

"The caverns.  It's the only way.  If you don't, you'll lose several of your best soldiers."  Royalsabre crosses his arms and taps his feet impatiently.

"Yes.  Not a simple decision to make.  The miners leave peepholes when they run into a cavern break, so we can keep tabs on what's going on down there without revealing ourselves.  There are hideous beasts roaming those deep places now.  Including a giant three-eyed harrier and a winged, scaly leech.  How many must we sacrifice to save those already injured?"

"Find a hidden spot.  If we're found, send in Fleshring.  I would not be the slightest bit concerned for him.  He'd love it."

Threehalls considered this for a moment.  "Ok.  You're right.  I'll consult my maps and designate a spot.  You'll receive word when it's done.  You better be ready for more injured when they appear.  Go back to work."

Royalsabre strikes a menacing pose, with a hint of triumph, and goes back to work.

[Captain Insano]

I am loving these stories. But I think you should post more screenshots of the actual fortress itself, like the layout of it all.