THE FOLLOWING HAS BEEN SCRAWLED IN CHARCOAL ON SCRAP PAPER. THEY ARE THE NOTES OF PLISSKEN SEALTIN, SWORDMASTER OF HOTSAND THE FORTRESS OF SUICIDE. I was clipped to the end link of the chain of command, I recall, as I sat in my room with my legs up on my desk admiring some of Nil's fine artwork.
Beautiful piece. Excellent rendition of myself. Even more excellent rendition of that gobbo making life partners with the dirt. I've become a different kind of soldier in this place: no more special ops. That's all behind me. There's glory in direct combat, something I needed to be a commander to understand. Fath and I are nearly equals at this point. The future generations taught by him will profit from such an excellent former recruit.
Anyway, they needed me to be in charge for a year. Something about needing a break, other responsibilities. Maybe parenthood. Can't say. Don't care. This place isn't secure enough. After agreeing to the position I gave the place a once-over: haphazard stockpile arrangements, unfinished rooms, lack of lumber reserves, half-completed maze, forges a goddamned mile from the dining space and cramped to boot, a half-assed attempt at depot protection.
Bizarre decorations in the honeymoon suite by Ahasver:
I looked at it all and thought: I can handle only so many of these things.
I decided to start with the depot. Built right next to a wide-open sandy pit. Had to change. Not good enough. Straight shot from the gobbo-infested wastes to the heart of our fort. Got one of the miners out there squaring the slopes off. Good thing gobbos don't know how to jump or climb.
I anticipated the need for some extra ropes. The maze when complete would need bait. Howling, mewling, furry bait. Unscrupulous? Maybe. Easy to forget your morals on the frontier. No matter. These beasts would end up being food in a pinch anyway. Got someone to go make clothes, didn't know the name. Once again, doesn't matter. Things need to be done. Our worth was only going to increase in time. Wealth brings gobbos. Gobbos bring trolls. Trolls smash down the doors and bring death. No compromises out here: we're the last of dwarven civilization. One siege with improper defences mean we are extinct.
Extinct.
Elves came. They brought goods, and bile to my throat.
I wasn't having it. Unfortunately, an oversight in maze construction allowed them inside while I was planning out how to deal with them. They must've found this over-the-maze entryway cute, an example of our "dwarfish eccentricity."
Sure. C'mon in. Let me gather some trading materials for you. Sure. Yeah, lay down your goods. Right. Here you are. Excellent. Come on in.
It was impossibly satisfying to toss my toothpick in their leader's face.
They left in a huff. Can't wait for them to come back. Next time I won't be throwing a toothpick.
The depot pit kept getting chipped away at.
Meanwhile, our masons were working themselves raw to get the maze done. Excellent workers we have here. Make do with little. One doing the work of ten. Slow going, but builds character.
Always responsible, always on the jo-
I allowed it. Recreation is a necessity for keeping morale high. Their celebrations over the completed flooring of the salt maze were well-earned. I sequestered myself to the barracks and continued my training. Sparred with a lion. Felt the burn.
I noticed an issue with alcohol production: too few barrels, too much demand. Barrels emptied of booze getting filled with meals. Wasn't sustainable. Solution? More barrels. I got a few of the forgery grunts melting down hematite for iron barrels but the distance between the forges and the living quarters brought the streamlining of production to a crawl. I doubled production by overseeing a small section of the caverns while civilians chopped down some menacing blood-red growths. Didn't like it down there. Bad feeling in my gut.
Walled that opening off ASAP. Got us a good number of barrels. So did trade with the tall ones. Men. They were patient when dealing with our "overworked" broker.
Purchased wine, whiskey, a spot of sewer brew. Not my favourite but drinkable. Plenty of barrels. By the time trade was complete we had 200+ Urists of booze. Not running out any time soon. Would be disastrous. Makes me thirsty just thinking about it.
I had a vision with this maze, a vision that was not to be interrupted by buzzards:
Gobbos are simple, but clever. Gotta think like a gobbo when you make defences against 'em. Take the shortest path there, kill everything in your way. Two simple gobbo rules. Made sure to rig up plenty of ropes at dead ends for bait. But as for the vision, it went like this: the maze is designated with three zones: the blue zone, the yellow zone and the red zone. All three are connected. Levers separate the three zones with bridges. Allows for gobbos to be diverted in a particular direction or another. Each zone then outfitted with hazards: smashing walls, lever-controlled spikes, anything imaginable. Not my business the specifics, would leave that up to the next guy. I wanted to develop the baseline design.
These three raised bridges control entry to each zone:
Each zone has its own designated burrow in case an overseer desires to have the military stalk an area of its halls. Burrows are colour-coded, and thus also act to define each maze zone. They're divided as such:
Blue entry zone burrow:
Yellow detour burrow:
Red inner zone:
Ale Explosion was in charge of rigging up the control room, which is a miniature replica of the maze itself as a visual aid for lever operators. Floor is coloured to show where each zone is. Pit is dug where pit on surface level is in relation to maze. Levers that control the bridges that seal off each zone are positioned relative to the seals in the maze itself. Easy to see which lever does what and where. Easy to direct gobbos from one area to the next. Just give them a path inside lined with a lot of danger. Make them go the short way or the long way. Seal them in one zone if desired. Choice is up to the controller.
Lever on: access point closed. Lever off: access point open. Easy to see which path the gobbos have to take. Northeast of the map room is the trap activation room. All levers connect to something deadly in the maze itself. At present, only several smashing wall traps. Each lever controls one zone's smashers/flingers. Depends on how unlucky the gobbo is. If a dwarf pulls the lever on repeat, whole sections of the maze become dangerous. Future slots for levers included.
Recommend that the iron spears being produced to train up weaponsmiths be put to use in the maze. Excellent method of puncturing invaders. Install spears in corridors, connect to levers in trap activation room according to zone, tell dwarf to pull on repeat. Sure that future overseers will find creative ways to customize maze. Proud to have developed groundwork.
Once the maze groundwork was complete, Fath and I got back to work training.
Biting: you never know when it'll come in handy.
Year's end summary:
Fort doing excellent, but still needs work. Forgot to mention: packed all loose wandering animals into a cage built near the farm zone. Was going to connect to a lever as a last-ditch defence in case maze is breached. Would like to see invading force deal with the sudden release of ~30 assorted and hungry monkeys, dogs, cats, and kittens.
Suggestions: Add remote-activated spears to maze. Hook up some more bait in there. Customize as desired. Reinforce defences near depot, possibly in the form of a trapped entry corridor to the now inaccessible pit. Ramp could also be trapped. Figure out some uses for these unfinished rooms. Continue the smoothing of the fortress walls. Continue to expand forge production. Encourage further breeding. Kill any elves that show up without mercy.
I've done my work here. May request another hand at overseeing fort in the future, especially if things go sour. Discipline is key.
We will survive at any cost. OOC
If anyone needs more info on how the maze setup works, I'll explain as best as I can.
Uploading save right now! I'll PM Crazycow with it once it's done.
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Topic: Vushcuggan Geshud Moshnun Succession game (Read 7528 times)