Pick did definitely prove useful, so here goes the first report of Bardumog, Fightclub.
Our monks have been recording everything happening to their humble outpost in a huge book, like, you know, all monks like to do.
The History of Bardumog, spring 93
I, Medtob Copperdrink, sister of Fightclub the most Amusing Abbey of Battles, have been selected to write the opening pages of our Great Book. From this day and forever, this place is no longer a nameless patch of desert, but a monastery dedicated to the study of combat arts, home to all things dwarfy. Here i open the Book of our history, and here it will close forever.
We have much to do, but we should never forget our main work lies within us. I forsaw that in the first months of hard labour we might not have enough time to engage in proper
combat training, but we will use everything we can to remind ourselves of the true warrior's way. Calligraphy, the fine art of inscription of runes that turn lifeless clay tablets into vivid stories and bright images, is one of the arts we will excel at. One after another, we will reread the history of our lifes, append latest happenings to it, and reflect upon it.
This said, i hand the book to sister Urist, who will write down the first chapter of our hopefully long story.
Our wagon stopped right amid the endless desert, and our horses seemed unable to pull it anymore. I was on feet, walking aside the wagon, and I spoke to others.
"I sense change in the land" - I said - "It's becoming less hostile... more alive. "We had travelled endless days without seeing a single tree or bush, but now there were some around."
"Yes" - nodded sister Geshud. - "you are right." She added after a moment's silence. "And we can't go any further. We have no supplies left from what those villagers gave us."
They were still hesitating if we should let our steeds rest and try to go ahead for another day when a terrible thing happened. A huge bird leapt down from the sky, and our horses rushed away from it in terror, pulling the wagon to the side and turning it over. The bird landed on a patch of grass nearby and then we saw it was undead - a skeleton of some huge raptor or scavenger turned its skull to us and opened its beak, like if it was laughing silently.
"Kill it!" - Medtob cried - "Kill the monster!"
We ran toward the bird, but it was too fast and too far - before we could reach it, it took off and flew to the west, where five more silhouettes could be seen soaring high in the skies. This is how our monastery was started. It looks like the evil itself challenged us to survive here, and i believe through labour we will win and prosper.
That night the skeletal birds returned and attacked us. Our dogs barking attracted our attention and we rushed to help them. We were glad the abominations chose to attack us instead of flying high and staring at us from sky with their awfull empty eye sockets - battle was a relief. Geshud, Valican and I stomped the skeletons into the ground, but not before they tore one of our geese apart. We dug a moat around our camp later so that skeletons couldn't attack us in our sleep or scare our geese and sheep away to the wilds.
Another strike for us was to discover that we had nothing to drink. Our beer was over, and we couldn't brew any of the bushes or cactuses that grew in this desert - they came from the earth already dry and dead, and they hadn't a single leaf on them or a single drop of water in their trunks. Huge cactuses the size of trees, resembling cages in appearance, grew dry and dead, too, but they could at least be used as building material. We discovered an aquifer beneath our feet, but water in it was too salty to drink. If only we could build a well - but we couldn't. These were grave news, and i though i could hear Death itself laughing at us when we understood what it meant. Then, brother Valican took the word.
I don't quite remember what he said, so frightened i was. It was something about death, and then water, and then death again. Brothers told me later our last chance was to dig deeper, like dwarves always do, and find stone to build a well. I believe them now, but then i only could think about water and death. We worked for weeks without any breaks and we were hardly remembering ourselves.
Indeed, we were kind of in a martial trance when we built pumps, dug a hole in the aquifer and fortified its walls with logs. Now i understand that it was much like combat with its cruelty, its lightning speed and its eerie beauty. Death was our opponent, and water was his weapon. A true warrior's way is to learn from his opponents - I should think more about this later.
After the well was ready we drank as much as we could. We won, and water was now ours. Death resorted to his another weapon - hunger. Overjoyed with our first victory, we relaxed we missed a solid hit from him. We were too late to start our work on farmers' workshops, and horrible madness seized us. I hardly remeber that days, and it's a pain and a shame for me to try to recall - so gruesome was the outcome. But i know i must write this down to regain the balance and tranquility of my soul, even if it hurts so much.
Posessed by demons of hunger, we crawled around the camp hunting small rats, bees and beetles for food. This continued for days and weeks, and we forgot everything about being monks, and about being dwarves, and about being sentient at all. When i regained my consciousness and my memory, i was sitting down in the newly dug microcline mine with a huge piece of raw meat in my hands. There was blood everywhere - on my hands, on my face, on my beard and everywhere around on the floor. My brothers were there, too, and we were all covered in blood and we hid our eyes from each other. It must be that one of us killed our horse and gave us its meat to eat. We never knew who it was, and who we are to blame - or to thank.
It's first Hematite now, and the spring was much more like a race against thirst and hunger than "early development". We still have no industries established, but at least we have a well and some cheese being produced - until our sheep die from hunger, that is. I'm planning to dig an underground pasture for them and breach a cavern for moss to grow there. Monks could venture into caverns, too, to collect some plants and establish a farm.
i don't have much to screenshot because we have even no dining hall right now.
2GreatWyrmGold & UltraValican
I selected two dwarfs for you, unfortunately the initial 7 from the first post all died, so i picked another two from this embark:
Earthenfury Roughnesscounselled, Proficient Striker & Dodger and inventor of "Badger Claws":
Valican Bronzetome, Proficient Wrestler & Dodger, founder of fist of beard hair.
Looks like our brotherhood is more of a sorority because 5 other dwarves are all female, and as story goes one of them is about to invent a style somehow related to water and death, don't ask me why.
I'll proceed with updates when i've finished another season or two.
EDIT: 2UltraValican. I'm planning to hand over the save after i've played through the first year, or earlier if something hillarous happens. I think most successions here are played like this. I'll upload it to dffd.wimbli.com, just as everyone here seems to do, and you'll be able to download it from there.
Author
Topic: Battle Monks Succession/Challenge game. (Read 3122 times)