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[varnish]

((but first, problems.))

Events from the Late Spring:

The warthogs were a constant nuisance, charging up and down the old sandy halls with cheerful abandon. Gar was finally forced to set up a line of cage traps to handle the menace.

It worked, which only left the question of what they were going to do with half a dozen caged warthogs.



....................

Ishar spent most of her time in the deep caverns, near the lake, working on Gar's project. It wasn't a pleasant place. Floodwaters from the fortress had swept down the rough stairway, cutting away whole sections as they went. The stairway itself was cut into an underground cliff face, running back and forth along jagged outcroppings of granite, and you could look down from the top and see all the way down to the vast lake. The water itself was perfectly still, and clearer than any glass that dwarfs could make. And the flood had carried broken pottery, rotting leather and rusted armor down with it, into the lake. It had also carried bones. All magnified in the calm, unfathomable water, lit by an eerie sourceless glow.

So, the whole effect was all very nice and horrifying, and it would have bothered Ishar more if she hadn't witnessed at least ten things equally horrifying in the last year or so. That was not the problem.

It was the sounds that came up from the lake that worried her.



There was something alive down there.

.......................

Notenome had his own problems. His assigned room was occupied by two goblins, who ignored him in a very unsettling way whenever he went in. (They did occasionally wave at him, which was somehow worse.) Aban hadn't mentioned anything about restarting work on the bridge, which left him with very little to do. And he was sure that something had started following him around. Something he could not see.



.......................

From the Journals of Aban Brothertreaties

No one comes rushing up stairs if they have good news. I wish they would.

Ishar was the one who told me, after she ran up from the caverns (which is no mean feat, by the way. I think it might have taken her two days). She had to get her breath, by which time all of us were in the dining hall, waiting for the news.



Like I said, it wasn't good.

............................

Next: Hopefully Not the End.

[peregarrett]

Let it deal with "friendly" giants and others, and meanwhile we should work on project. Then kill it with spikes.

[varnish]

Fun Fact: I began this fortress one year ago, it seems.

Another Fun Fact: *Runs screaming into the night*

(I'll update soonish, just wanted to say that)

[varnish]

((ok, I'm back. kind of.))

From the Journals of Aban Brothertreaties, Summer 201


I can't get things down here fast enough. Too many things happening, too fast.

The monster hasn't attacked us yet. Destroyed a magma pump, then wandered away. Who knew we even had magma pumps left? Not me.



Gar won't come out of the lower levels, even with the threat of some sort of alligator monster hanging over us. He says that he's not worried, he has goblins and ghosts to protect him. Is that sane? I can't tell these days.



And migrants have showed up. It's unbelievable. Also unbelievable? The leader of the group is named Croaker. I never knew this "Croaker" that well, but I'm certain he was dead at some point. Got to figure this out. Time for another meeting, I think.



......................

Next: More Details

[peregarrett]

It's great that this fort still goes on!

How much time has passed since embark? I'm afraid that 'friendly' ogres and such can suddelly turn hostile after year passes... Anyway, how's shelter project goes?

[varnish]

((I dunno))

Summer, 201 Continues

There were three "new" dwarfs in Oceanbridge. Aban wasn't sure about two of them, but the third had identified himself as Croaker, the doctor. That was how he identified himself at least, though she thought that he hardly looked the same as he had before.

She had called for a meeting in the official tombs (as opposed to the unofficial ones, ie; everywhere else in the fortress.) There weren't any goblins or giants down there.

Aban knew she had to start off slow. The indirect approach. "So, tell me how you got here. I could have sworn you were killed in the last siege!"

Croaker answered without hesitation. "Oh, I think I was." Seeing Aban's expression, he smiled. "Come on, this is hardly a secret anymore. We've been watching the dead come back in one way or another for nearly as long as I've been here. There was Derm, Neo, and any number of others. And there's all the ghosts... Clearly coming back from the dead isn't a problem around here. Remalle should know all about that too."

"I haven't died." Remalle said, quietly. "I've been here since the very beginning, almost, but I've never died."

"Fair enough. But my point stands. Death has lost its hold on us, for whatever reason, and whether we like it or not."

Remalle shrugged. He was busying himself with a small memorial slab. Someone had to do it.

Croaker continued. "In fact, Aban, how can you be certain that you haven't done the same as me? I overheard you once, talking about hearing the voice of the god Tholtig. That can't have been under ordinary circumstances. When did that happen? Where were you? How do you know that you haven't died and returned"

"What?" Aban looked annoyed. "I don't know. When did I even mention anything about Tholtig to you?" She shook her head. "Look, all I know is that we need to finish this bridge. If we can do that, things will start to make sense again. Somehow."

"I agree."

"Oh, you do?"

"Yes. That is the most important thing we can do."

 Ok," Aban said, feeling a bit put off. She looked around at the others, who had been mostly quiet during the discussion. Actually, Gar and Ishar had been arguing themselves about the safehouse, but that hadn't been nearly as interesting. "How is... are you guys getting anything done? Anyone want to talk about something progress related? Related to the damn bridge, or our survival I mean."

Gar spoke up for the first time at that meeting. "I've been setting up cage traps in all the halls."

"There we go! Good! Um, why?"

"Keep the warthogs out of our damn food stores. Plus, when we get invaded again, we'll be ready. The mistake we made before was having just a few lines of defense. The way I see it, the entire fortress should be our line of defense. Make em suffer for every step they take."

"That... actually makes a lot of sense. Ok. Anything else?"

Notoeneme spoke up. "I've got this plan I've been working on, where we can use the magma pool to destroy the-"

It was, of course, at that moment that a herd of elk birds came charging through the meeting hall.



"What the- Gar, I thought you were taking care of this kind of thing!"

"I was, but you interrupted me with this moronic meeting!"

"Oh, right." Aban thought for a moment. "Meeting adjourned! Everyone, run for safety!"

................................

Next: I Don't Know, Actually.

[Remalle]

It's great to see this is still going!

[peregarrett]

Right! Tacticat retreat and counterattacks when possible.

But some of enemies avoid common traps, so just flooding corridors with serrated disc traps aren't enough... Have to think about it.

Thoughts that came up for now:
- Common traps + cave-in shock dust that knocks then into traps
- Magma geizers
- Ballista batteries
- Spikes
- Retracting bridges

Aaaaand - True Dwarfy Idea:
- Capture that beast, injure it with spikes and make it bleed all over the passage, then welcome invaders into pools of deadly blood!

[varnish]

((I wish the beast would come back. I'm quite curious about that deadly blood.))

Talking to Goblins: Autumn, 201:

It was only after the elk birds had been either caged or sliced into ribbons by traps that Aban remembered what she had wanted to ask Croaker, back before she knew he was still alive.

"We need to figure out why these goblins aren't killing us right now. It worries me. Do you know how to talk to them?"

Croaker answered, saying that he didn't, but that he thought it was worth learning.

Ten minutes later, he found himself up on the bridge, looking for the goblin's general.

The monster was "relaxing" for lack of a better word, on the bridge. He was huge, by both dwarf and goblins standards, a tremendous callused gray lump, decorated in ragged leather, rusty iron, and bones. Who the bones had belonged to wasn't something worth wondering about. He sat on the edge of the steel fortifications, looking out over the sea.

Croaker spent several days out there with him, while the other creatures that made the bridge their home watched.



When he returned to the fortress ruins, he was full of news, none of which was quite what Aban wanted to hear. "Goblin language is very... strange. Not as violent and crude as I expected. I still understand very little, but we were able to converse with signs and gestures. I don't know what he said to me, exactly, but I don't think they want us to finish the bridge. That much is quite certain."

"Ok, well, that's interesting, and not surprising. But that doesn't tell me why they aren't killing us right not, you know, to stop us from building the bridge again. Why did they let us come back?"

"He said that their gods let us come back, as a lesson. Or perhaps, example is the right word. If it brings you comfort, I do believe that they will turn violent the moment any one of us begins construction on the bridge again."

"No, it doesn't. Wait," Aban went over what he had told her. "Their gods? What do goblins worship? Are they anything like our gods?"

"I'm not sure what goblins worship. Demons, I think."

"Demons. Ok. So, they worship evil creatures that love to destroy life, and so on?"

"Yes."

"So, nothing like our own gods at all."

Croaker gave her a look. "Trying to be a bit satirical, Aban?""

She ignored him. "And you got all of that through gestures and hand signals?"

"I'm not a fool. I can pick up meaning from a number of different places. No one communicates with just their voice."

"All right, all right."

Croaker continued. "That's what I have learned. I think we are safe for now, but the bridge may have to wait. I don't want them getting violent just yet. Death may not be much of a barrier right now, but I'm not eager to experiment so soon. Not with myself. I may talk to Remalle about the ghosts." He shook his head. "There's too much I need to learn."

Aban agreed, though she wasn't sure which part she agreed with.
.......................

Next: Building Other Things! (Not Bridges. Yet.)

[The Soldier]

This is a great fort. Could I get a dwarf? Name's "Soldier," have them be a speardwarf and any other job that involves piercing and penetrating things. They also refer to anything with a single sharp point as a 'drill.'

[varnish]

((Of course!

Working on the update, but in the meantime: A while back I tried writing little histories for some of the dwarfs. Here's one for Notenome, whose name I never manage to spell the same way twice.))

The Life and Times of Notenome, Architect

Notenome was young and ambitious and desperately unhappy in his life. The realization came to him in a flash, as he was hauling a load of granite from one of the queen's new banquet halls. Pushing an almost unbearable weight up a long, smoke and dust filled corridor over and over again until he keeled over from exhaustion wasn't for him. He was different from the others, and he had a way to prove it. Just before he passed out from lack of air that he saw it. It was complete and perfect in his head; the blueprints for the brilliant new automatic steam and cat powered stone hauler.

Putting his ideas into practice proved harder, but Notenome persevered. He experimented whenever he could, and stole tools and rope and cats from the storerooms whenever he could. After a few months, he was able to put together a test model, which he demonstrated for his hauling compatriots.

The new invention was not received well, for a variety of reasons. They included fear of change, conservatism, and the fact that the test model destroyed several dozen mechanisms, nearly caused a cave in, and badly injured twenty haulers. To say nothing of the cats.

So Notenome left the Mountainhomes for greener pastures, or at least, for places that hadn't heard about "that incident". Eventually, and after helping around in several other outposts along the way, he made it to Oceanbridge, a place that needed an architect as much as it needed anything.

The fortress promptly fell, this time through no fault of Notenome's. Somehow, he survived. Those terrifying days hiding in the caverns had been an unpleasant reminder of his life as an anonymous hauler, and he'd sworn that would never happen again. He'd spend the rest of his life on the surface, turning Oceanbridge into the greatest architectural marvel known to dwarf-kind. And if it was the only architectural marvel known to dwarf-kind... if he and the others were all that was left of dwarf-kind... That would have to do.

......................

((Hopefully that didn't turn out wrong. Updates coming soon.))

[varnish]

From the Journals of Aban Brothertreaties, Winter 201

So, here's a general report on life in Oceanbridge.

Ishar has really, really thrown herself into Gar's little project (which is enormous now). Not that I mind the idea of a safe place for us to survive when disaster hits... It's just that projects like this are sometimes the cause of those disasters. Well, Gar knows what he's doing. Of all the disasters that have happened here, I don't think one was ever directly his fault. Anyway, the whole thing consists of a bunch of half finished rooms right now.



Di-3 and I have been busy with a little project of our own. We've been putting up rough stone walls and pressure plate triggered floodgates in every hall we can. If... ok, when the goblins decide to turn on us, they'll very quickly find themselves trapped in the empty interior of the fort, while we'll be safe in the vault thing. The "empty" interior will also be filled with every trap that Gar can come up with, just to keep the goblins entertained.

This fortress will not fall again.

And last, but not least... I have no idea where Remalle is. You would think that, with only ten of us here, it would be easier to keep track of where everyone was. But Oceanbridge is huge, and the lower levels are honestly just baffling! I just hope he's still alive.

And if he isn't, I hope he doesn't come back as a vengeful ghost. Gods know that we have enough of those already.

.............................

Early Winter, 201:

Aban had given up on the idea of guarding the walls. Why try to keep enemies out, these days?

So she was caught off guard when an unfamiliar dwarf walked up to her desk and introduced herself simply as "The Soldier". The name was fitting.



She had come with five others, and as far as Aban could tell, none of them had lived in Oceanbridge before. The means there still are other dwarfs out there, she realized.



She also realized that the Soldier had been waiting for her to answer for nearly a minute. "Oh, sorry!" Aban reached out and shook the woman's hand cautiously. "Good to meet you? Um, forgive me for being blunt, but where the hell did you come from?"

The Soldier stood at ease, and said, "I'm not upset by blunt talk. Across the sea, that's where we started at least. There were a lot of hill forts out there, back before the trouble started."

"Which particular trouble are you talking about?"

"You mean you don't know?" She leaned in close and whispered, "The dead. The dead are rising from their graves."

"Oh, you mean like ghosts? We've got plenty of those around here, it's not as much of a problem as you might think-"

The Soldier shook her head. "No. I mean the bodies of our friends rose up from the graveyards where they were buried. They looked like our friends and family, but they were mindless, and evil They tried to kill us all, and when they did, the ones they killed joined them. We fought them for a month, then when we couldn't fight anymore, we fled." She waved her spear at the five others. "There were fifty of us in our outpost. These are the ones who survived. If not for me and my drill here, there wouldn't be one."

Aban didn't answer for a bit. When she did, she tried to keep her voice as calm as possible. "So, nothing like ghosts at all, really. Something new."

"Yes."

"Well, you're welcome to join us here, I guess. We need all the soldiers we can get."

Aban wasn't sure if she wanted to tell the new arrivals about the sheer number of dead dwarfs who lay in Oceanbridge's halls. She wasn't sure she wanted to think about it herself, after what she had just heard.
................................

Next: Year Two (Of the Reclaim of a Reclaim)

[varnish]

((Hey hey, time for a quick update))

Notes from the End of Year One, Part One

Floods

Autumn was nearly over when the safe room project suffered a setback. Gar's initial design called for a well, which made perfect sense. It also called for the well to be dug after the entire complex was finished, and the pipe to the underground lake closed off.

Ishar missed that part. What followed was an excellent demonstration of the behavior of water under pressure, and what happened when that pressure was released.



The fountain of water that burst from the channel she dug was lovely. The flood that followed and nearly drowned her, Gar, and Remalle was not. Only quick action by Di-3 kept the lower levels from being flooded yet again.



Ishar began digging out new chambers, and Gar began drinking, in the hopes that it would help him forget that they had to start the whole thing over again.

He then found out that they had run out of booze, and were in desperate need of a well.
......................

Next: Olms, Giant

[varnish]

((Not much going on I guess?))

From the Journals of Aban Brothertreaties, Late Winter 201

So, of course I forgot to order more alcohol brewed!

It's... I only keep going by thinking a day ahead, at most. Things get forgotten. I remembered to catalog our collection of cages, forgot about the drinks.
Well, we've got a bit of booze now. We might be short of food because of that, though.



There have been other problems to deal with, besides. Notenome was attacked by some sort of fish man from the depths. Apparently the thing bit one of his back teeth out (How? Just... how?),



 and it might have killed him without the timely intervention of our only soldiers, the Soldier and one of her friends.



Giant fishmen might not be much trouble, but it's a good reminder that there's nowhere safe here. A cheerful thought for the end of the year!

......................

Next: Feasting, Death, and Goblins

[varnish]

((Still working on that update, for what it's worth. It's been hard for me to write these things, not sure why.

Well, I did just recently download every single public domain book and magazine written between 1800 and 1880, so that's been eating into my time a bit.

New stuff soon.))