TwinklePaddles.
our voyage begins when a strong group of settlers set out from the mountainhome, their duty (if at all possible) is to gain a foothold in the scorching north. They were young, thought themselves invincible, but what they discovered they could not overcome. The following is a diary found in a small cave dug out of a knoll. The first few entries are written in prickle berry juice, while the last two are written in blood.
Entry 1: We found a fine spot to settle, nothing too dangerous, and the only foreseeable problem being the lack of water, but we brought enough booze to last a year, the caravan should have arrived by then. The dwarves joke about slaying dragons and monsters, each boasting that he will be the one to slit the beast's throat (although only one is slightly proficient with a sword); I just hope they do not become too overconfident. I will allow their teasing for now, we will need all the morale we can get.
Entry 2: A cave has been found north east of our wagon. It contains only a few nuisances, rats and such, so it should not be a problem. However, we cannot tell how deep it travels so I have set my carpenter to board up the entrance. We have cut down a small clearing around the hill where we are to settle, and our miner has set to work digging out living spaces. With the discovery of the cave, I have asked the fisherdwarf to scout out for more fissures in the earth. You never know what sort of evil could lurk inside them.
Entry 3: The fisherdwarf reports finding three suspicious crevices. Clearly, there cannot be something in all of them (NOTE: he said one of them seemed to radiate heat, hot spring, perhaps?) so I will send the carpenter to investigate them. Meanwhile, the entrance to our future fort has been carved out. We should expect migrants or a caravan and day now, hopefully before the hot season. The dwarves are excited and morale could not be stronger.
Entry 4: The carpenter is dead. From 400 yards away, even, I saw the inferno pour from the beast's mouth. A dragon, black and sleek, spits a torrent of flames into the sky. The carpenter screamed as he scrambled to escape the beast's wrath, I'm sure, but from the distance I was observing at, all sound was lost under the roar of the dragon. The dragon hunts him down as a snake would to a rabbit, flames still pouring from its gaping maw, he released a second burning volley and the carpenter fell to the ground, smoldering. The dragon clamped onto his head and tossed him about, I thought it would devour him, but clearly it only wished him dead. The dragon dropped the carpenter, lifeless, onto the silt and retreated into its lair. All six of us watch the entire scene, not daring to move a muscle for hours afterward, lest the beast rise again and strike us down.
Entry 5: I instructed the swordsdwarf and the mason to close off the dragon hole. They were both extremely reluctant, but they went for the good of the fort. The mason returned alone and spoke of the swordsdwarf's heroism; he had fought off the dragon to give the mason enough time to wall him in. He claims he did not want to wall them in, but there was no other alternative. I have sent him to floor over the other two crevices, no chances this time. I checked the dragon's lair and confirmed that the mason's story was true, the hole was covered and there was signs of a fight. However, the dragon was far from dealt with. Smoke seeped out from the ant hills and the grass yellowed; I feared the beast's strength might defeat dwarven masonry. If that were to happen, we would all be dead.
Entry 6: The harpy's screeches are never ending. They threaten the sanity of the fortress. The very day the mason complete walling up the two other passages, a flock of harpies appeared on the horizon. Since then they have not failed to torment my dwarves. The morale we had when we first arrived is all, but gone, our only hope (and chance of a good nights sleep) is to dig into the earth. The fisherdwarf has just arrived and informed me that a fourth hole has been found, Armok save us, I'm surprised this ground can support itself with so many crags and crevices.
Entry 7: It was a hydra. If ever existed an unluckier group of dwarves, to stumble upon not only one, but two lairs of famed beasts not a stones through away from eachother, I would claim Armok to be a tyrant god! The mason is dead, seven deadly heads shot out of the dark and dragged down into the unforgiving darkness. If you stare into the abyss, know also the abyss stares into you. No migrants or caravans have arrived, and we cannot send word back to the mountain home; supplies are low and none would make the journey back. It seems we must die here, either on the fangs of a beast or by dehydration's merciless hand gripping around our parched throats. Although one could not battle the hydra, perhaps the four of us have a chance, if we prepared for it. This may very well be the last entry. If so, may this water-forsaken, sun-scorched desert choke upon my blood!
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Topic: /tg/ succession fort (Open to anyone!) (Read 8049 times)