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Well, I am...

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[GreatWyrmGold]

I am morally opposed to sadism. Maybe segregation or slight neglect, but sadism? I haven't been playing DF long enough to be O.K. with that. I'll change any votes of people who don't change to something other that sadism to simple discrimination.

[GreatWyrmGold]

Currently, we have 1-1/2 votes each for surface fort, 1-1/2 votes for segregation type of fort, 1 vote for unhappy fort (I might have to discard this, or at least push it to the back), and 1 vote for "shopping mall." In addition, the only person who cared has suggested anything about mods has suggested Monster Hunter Universe, Hydra/Phoenix Rising (which I can't find), and Dorf Space.

I'll probably close voting in half an hour or so.

[UltraValican]

http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=89981.msg2487795#msg2487795
You can add it to vanilla too
On second thought however its still heavily in dev.....

[GreatWyrmGold]

Hmm, yeah.

Okay, I think I'll go with a surface Monster Hunter Universe fortress. I'll probably do some tinkering first. Expect an update ~tomorrow.

[GreatWyrmGold]

Okay, I've got an intro right about now, so I'll start with that.

-----

The World: Orbuzong
This world we live in was once a virgin wilderness. Then the gods, bored of watching flowing meadows and burbling streams, made the races: Dwarves, shakalakas, felynes, goblins, daemons, and of course humans.

The first age of the world was the Golden Age. Many starved before farms could be established, there were wars, demons rose to positions of power in some lands, many died and were born. Were these times glorious? I do not think so, but some do. This period lasted from the First Year of Creation for about a century, after Sacath Milecreature became the law-giver of the humans in the 110th Year of Creation.
Then came the Twilight Age, when the humans began to dominate. More wars were fought, and the humans proved the value of short but, ahem, “busy” lives. This age lasted until the humans defeated and pillaged (for the 471st time) the daemon settlement of Munchedwhisked in 723.
Thus began the Age of Fairy Tales, when most races were thought to be nothing more than tales to many. It has lasted half of Creation, and indeed recently one can understand why humans think they are alone: The last interaction they had with the “true” races was in early 1006, when they destroyed the daemon settlement of Bodicecloistered for the second time. After that, the gods, bored with the human-dominated world, sent the “false” races--wicked monsters, bloated horrors, wicked horrors, maybe some bloated monsters, and their kin formed from abducted men and women. Still, other races lived on, notably in the goblin-dominated south of the world, where they ran free and had encountered no others.

It is into this world of men that we start our tale, a tale of felynes fleeing the southern menace and building a castle for the world to admire.

-----

Journal of Zurko “Wyvernsheart” Relicorgan, Expedition Leader of The Sabre of Whiteness
Uncertain Date, YoC 1050
I d'know how those damn greenies found us, but they did. We cut and ran, taking a wagon and what supplies we could.
Once, we were just a few felynes, stymed in our attempts at tradng by those idiot humans, who either thought we were kittens' tales or pets for their furless-kittens to dress up. Then, we decide to wander south, see if those few remaining ones who believe in us are interested in trade.
They ain't.
We were reminded by the arrows an' blades of those greenskins that there was a war on. Most of us were killed. Me an' six others escaped, then put together a “wagon,” collected what supplies an' animals we could, and tried to reach civilization.
We didn't.
Our makeshift wagon broke down for the third time, and this time we couldn't fix it. Despite the distant cries of hungry gravios, we decided to settle here.
It's about the New Year. Great for us, eh?
We got two dogs, two cats, two apceroces, a yak cow, a bull horse, some goose and turtle meat, several plump helmets, some toadstools, a couple valley herbs, assorted seeds, dwarven-style alcohol, a pick and an axe made of copper, av anvil (for some reason), some alpaca wool, three dwarf-import ropes made from pig tail fibers (I asked if they were made from the dwarves' own pig-tails, but got a confused look--must not have translated well), a few chestnut buckets, and seven able-bodied workers. Me, a bureaucrat and apprentice woodcutter, former member of a local militia (treasurer) and woodworker's guild (secretary), elected leader of this sorry enclave; Specut Pinestreasure, a wood- and stone-worker of good standing in his hometown; Ulde Ripevessels, a tailor and tinkerer who combined the two with devastating results; Niwir Basementsubmerge, a planter and weaver, who worked on a cotton farm before this disaster occurred; Bini Dancedpearl, a man of many talents who can smelt metal, turn a boulder into a few mugs, make a harp out of hornblende or a dactite drum, burn wood into stuff other than ashes, potterize with the best (his main profession before wandering the trade routes), repair a makeshift wagon (twice), and create a tune from a reed and two pebbles, plus play a mean game of Wyverns' Bones; and Hode Purplepanthers, a stonecarver of both descriptions who dyes her fur a deep lavender. We're here, on a flattish hilltop by a waterfall, preparing to, as the dwarves say, strike the earth.

-----

Oh, Armok, daemons. I hate them so much...I hope this doesn't turn out too bad. Actually, I didn't see them on the civ screen, so maybe I'm not screwed. Thank Armok.
The felyne civ I embarked as is at war with goblins, some of whom shoot obsidian webs. Yay crazy mods. Anyways, depending on how well I plan the defenses, I might actually be screwed.

[peregarrett]

Too bad the Fortress of Pain didn't win. Maybe I'll make that community game myself, later...

[NRDL]

Too bad the Fortress of Pain didn't win. Maybe I'll make that community game myself, later...

If you do, dorf me as the captain of the guard, responsible for issuing out the various "punishments".  Please leave a link.

Forgive me for the derail. 

[GreatWyrmGold]

It's alright. It happens.

[GreatWyrmGold]

Obsidian 1, 1051
I've decided to use the dwarven system of months, as far as I can remember, since they can be accurately measured by this nifty sundial thing that I bought from the dwarves. So what if I don't remember all of the months right? I also also was reccomended to write more formally, since this journal is going to be the only form of record for a while. I also also also decided to do a more detailed survey of the area.

I discovered some interesting things. For one thing, an interesting type of reddish, grainy soil.

Apparently it can be used as clay.
[Sidenote: Just another of the nifty, weird little things I added. Plastic grains are a type of soil, clay in fact, and can be fired into plastic, a “metal” that can be forged into most things and is comparable to copper but lighter. That concludes this update's edition of “Weird Mods,” by GreatWyrmGold.]
Also, in a nearby pond I see some frozen water along one edge, clinging to a strange bluish rock.

[Sidenote: According to the z-stone menu, ice crystals are normal stone. It probably has a low fixed temperature.]
Also also, we have white sand, and some sort of swimming wyvern, which is identified to me as a plesioth, is swimming in the river. Three actually, and a sea lamprey. I hope it's friendly...
Probably not. My luck's not that good. And then I have to deal with the plesioloths...

I start planning our fortress by having Purplepanthers dig into the side of the hilltop, to make sand-collecting, potterring, and probably some other furnacey areas. Also a temporary dorm. I also also choose a spot to put our food and a protective cat, and start chopping down trees since there's no managing or bookkeeping to do. I also also also have Das Coastbud, a lady who slipped past my notice last time despite being among the most gigantic felynes I have ever seen (brewer, cook, herblist: You know the type) start gathering plants. Unfortunately, one of the plesioloths has decided that it would be fun to get angry and spit at Coastbud. Make that two of them. I go to help...

(KEY: The brown C is Das, the yellow one Zurko, and the two red !'s enraged plesioloths. The third is chillin' down the river.)
...but decide to follow Coastbud and turn tail. “He who doesn't fight but runs away/Lives for at least another day.” I hope they let her live and go to cut trees...then they split up, one against each of us! So far, the spit water has only hit Das, bruising her, but if one of them closes to melee range...holy shit. And then the other five too, possibly.
Then the one following me wanders off, no longer enraged, allowing me to chop down a tree. Maybe this plesioloth episode will have a happy ending after all.
Bruised lung and liver, with the third plesioloth after you isn't so bad, right? It's better than being captured by goblins, that's for sure.

Obsidian 2, 1051
Today, plesioloth spit at me, but it glanced away, so I kept hacking at that pesky maple until I was done, then ran...to a healthy-looking oak. And ignored Das running past me, because damn it, a tree should be CUT DOWN. Then I noticed the angry plesioloth behind her...

[Wow, these guys are worse than carp or even alligators. They're like giant badgers who can spit at you to get your attention, and swim. Tetcishrat, you have the record for Fastest Dwarf Kill in any game I have played.]
Biggest mistake of my life, except maybe joining this goddamn caravan. No time to complain about that, I need to write my will before I die from that head-wound the fucking plesioloth gave me.

The Last Will and Testi Testu Tes Fuck this, I leave everything at home to my wife, except for a microcline coffer I have in my room at the Woodworker's Guild, which is to be delivered to Dankis, two houes down the block, with a note reading “For Project Wyvernhearted.” My few belongings here...my axe goes to the fort, my clothes to buy needed supplies, and my favorite, aptonoth-shell-studded obsidian Wyverns' Bones dice to Dancedpearl, this journal to Ulde, and my position as Expedition Leader to Das, to enjoy for what time she has left.
[Seriously, when Zurko died, Das became expedition leader. Don't ask me to explain.]
Finally, a secret to help everyone here avoid peril: In the deep, my militia found a danger worse even than these plesioloths. They are easy to identify, if you know how. To star(bloodstains obscure a couple words; Wyvernsheart is presumed to have died at this point.)
(The following section is written in a more precise, yet strangely much more irregular, handwriting.)
Granite 1-Arrival. Plans. Plesioloths angered at our existance.
Granite 2-Wyvernsheart killed by a plesioloth (thereafter named Breakkillers) who was trying to squeeze between him and a tree.
Granite 3-Plesioloths attack Das in melee. She passes out, then is killed by a lucky headshot by another plesioloth's spit. Plesioloth dubbed Furnaceshut by Dancedpearl. Plesioloths calm down, hopefully for good. Dancedpearl, having had the second-most votes when we chose our leader, is chosen to replace Wyvernsheart.
Granite 4-The last food, the barrel of goose meat, is hauled to the stockpile. Purplepanthers reaches the odd grainy soil and compares the shade of her fur to the soil, evidently deciding to use it to supplement her original supply of dye. A few workshops' sites chosen.
Granite 5-A meeting is held.
(The handwriting changes again, this time into neat script, mostly Felyne but with bits of Dwarvish and other languages sprinkled in.)
Journal of Bini Dancedpearl, current expedition leader of The Sabre of Fear, the settlers of Dawnstone
Granite 5, Year 1 of Dawnstone
Today was a momentous occasion. We actually had a meeting. They will be irregularly held from hre on out, once every few days until we are rescued or die. I also convinced Ripevessels to let me use this journal after he copied the notes on various devices out of the back (this entry was actually written on the 6th). In addition, we agreed on a few measures:
1. By the warning of our first leader's last words, unless it be necessary for survival itself, we will not dig much below the surface. We will build our home out of soil and some of this interesting clayey stuff, and some of the upper layers of rock, and maybe dig deeper mines, but we will NOT live deep down underground.
2. We are ashamed of it, but the area over by where Das and Wyvernsheart died will be abandoned.
3. A replacement axe, made of wood if needed, will be commissioned unless Wyvernsheart's axe can be retrieved before then.
4. Pinetreasure will take over woodcutting operations for the present time, and Ripevessels will become our herbalist.
5. Basementsubmerge will be allowed to try out a new process he came up with, involving something about growing wood.
[Random Note: Just one of the misc. reactions I gave them.]
6. ASAP, the original ideas for furnaces will be followed and I will start potterring shortly thereafter, fuel permitting.
We may pass other measures later, but for now, that is the extent of our Executive Decisions.

(various irrelevant passages deleted)

Granite 9, 1051
While Pinetreasure was chopping at a tree with the axe he made, Furnaceshut got enraged at his presence...

-----

Nice cliffhanger, neh? Find out what happens next...Tomorrow!

[UltraValican]

Your right about your plesioth descriptions, they're  like dragon carp....

It could be worse, you could have embarked with a  Lagriacrus infestation......

[UristMcHuman]

REMINDER: Nobles are VERY unimportant.

BUGFIX

I want a male peasant, and change his labors to make/use ranged weapons. Have him lead an archer squad once he gains enough experience in shooting a bow+arrow or x-bow+bolts.

[GreatWyrmGold]

Your right about your plesioth descriptions, they're  like dragon carp....

It could be worse, you could have embarked with a  Lagriacrus infestation......

Wait, it could be WORSE than three deaths as of this time? Holy Carp (I need to make a monster called that)!

[GreatWyrmGold]

Okay, it's early, but I couldn't sleep.

-----

Granite 9, 1051
While Pinetreasure was chopping at a tree with the axe he made, Furnaceshut got enraged at his presence...and then forgot about it.
[Hey, I posted the update before discovering that the monstrosity would decide to join his anger management group.]

…

Granite 14, 1051
Basementsubmerge started this wood-growing process. Once I see how well it works, I might call off the woodcutting.
Collection of the strange grainy material, which I have dubbed “Plastik,” is going well. Probably, once purified and fired, it would make a truly lovely statue, but for now, we will be building workshops and such from the impure form.
In plesioloth news, one--Breakkillers, in fact--became enraged at my existance
[Oh, no you don't! Modding powers, prevent an untimely end to this fort!]
only to suddenly gasp, as if its lungs stopped working. Still it charged, as Pinestreasure wandered in its direction. Pinestreasure entered the “fort” we had--a few furnaces, a future dormitory, a workshop Pinestreasure was about to build--so Breakkillers spit at a yak twice, then calmed down, spit again, then sat still and awaited its fate as the yak, slightly bruised, returned to its pasture. Oh, wiat, it didn't sit still, it air-drowned. Weired.

Granite 15, 1051
Purplepanthers decided to harvest some ice crystal, but could only find the bit lining a corner of the pond.
In othr news, Pinestreasure came to me for consolation.

Granite 18, 1051
I commissioned a bridge to reach the other riverbank. It will be a useful addition.

Granite 20, 1051
Pinestreasure hit a plesioloth--Furnaceshut, in fact--who was swimming a bit too close for comfort.
I commissioned a butcher's shop near the plesioloth corpse.

Granite 21, 1051
Furnaceshut got angry at the existanc of a groundhog.

Granite 22, 1051
The as-of-yet-unnamed plesioloth got angry at Ripevessels, who took it in stride by dodging--away from the water, even.
I chose a spot for the Central Staircase for our future castle.
I make some charcoal (Basementsubmerge's technique worked well); maybe I'll be able to make some actual plastik stuff.

Granite 23, 1051
I choose a deep, muddy spot for our future quarry bush farm. I also noticed Furnaceshut getting angry at a badger. Hilarity may ensue.

Granite 25, 1051
Furnaceshut swam upriver, never to be seen again. I hope.
On the plesioloth subject, the sole remaining local plesioloth, trapped in a pond, convinced Ripevessels that, unlike last time, it would be a GOOD idea to dodge into the confined, very, very wet pond.


Due to a theory that she (don't ask how I checked) did it to make a name for herself, we called this beast “Rentname.”
Pinestreasure is still bugging me; she hasn't left in over a week.
Purplepanthers complained, probably not for the last time, that the soil under a pond is damp.

Granite 26, 1051
Purplepanthers finished connecting the “main tunnel” to the future Central Stairwell.

Granite 28, 1051
Done digging under the pond. Yippee.
Pinestreasure has stopped pestering me. Yippee!

Boo.

Slate 1, 1051
And now Pinestreasure is seeking me out again.
On the bright side, the quarry bush plot is finished.

I decide to make some statues for the meeting hall/future dorm.

Slate 2, 1051
I should have known this would come...Purplepanthers is complaining about the damp river soil. ARE YOU MICE, OR ARE YOU CATS?
[Sidenote: I should add a rodynt race that is naturally antagonistic towards felynes.]


Slate 7, 1051
After creating a butcher's shop and slaughtering a horse, I began to butcher Breakkillers. Today, Pinestreasure took a break from badgering me to eat some horse brain. She showed no concept of personal space. Ugh, crazy women.

Slate 16, 1051

Oh, fuck me, can anything else go wr...I DIDN'T MEAN THAT LITERALLY OH--

[Oh, no, no another one!]

[The handwriting changes yet again, to frantic scribblings clearly written by a different person, entirely in Felyne.]

First I heard a scream and a crunch, like the sound when Wyvernsheart was killed, only more acute. Curious, I went to the entrance and cautiously peeked in. The sight I saw was horrible. Dancedpearl was dead, on the ground. Pinestreasure was standing over him, an oddly passionate look in the crazed eyes. Then, she turned and noticed one of the dogs. Angrily, she tore at the poor creature with her wooden axe, crippling it and tearing it apart...the horror!
The dog's mate came to defend her, which didn't work well. Then an apaceros also joined in, probably thinking it was a good fray to join, which was more...effective. The apaceros received no wounds and managed to smash and rip apart Pinestreasure's limbs, notably ripping off her left lower arm. Several blows later, Pinestreasure stumbled backward, uttered a sound between a lovestruck sigh, bloodthirsty battlecry, and gurgling death cry, then fell and breathed her last.

What.
The.
FUCK.

We didn't need to did deep for the horrors...we have already been struck with disaster. Only me and Hode are left, and she's a crazy chick who dyes he fur and didn't get fazed about anything until I told her (after she woke up; the horrible screams didn't work for that). And the thing she was saddest about? The fact that made her unhappy? Not our (second) leader dying, but Pinestreasure, whom she hated, dying.

I am the only sane one left.


Oh, gods.

-----

I wanted a community fort, not an experiment in tantrum spiral minimum critical mass!

[GreatWyrmGold]

Let's take a break from mad plesioloths, insanity, murder, and what is probably disproof of tantrum spiral critical mass (7 citizens, no furniture...which I guess didn't help...), let's look at some maps of Dawnstone as it is halfway through spring.

Here is what I suppose is currently the “main fortress” area. In thw lower left is a few furnaces; the red-backgrounded C is the late expedition leader's bare corpse. The little red r thing by the one dog is Specut's left lower arm, as well as a left glove and mitten made out of donkey and macaque leather. The dog is standing on a pile of Specut's right lower arm and right first toe (which Niwir was, um, too busy being freaked out to notice...right...), her right mitten and glove, and the alder axe she made. The red a's are apaceroces; the lower right one, named Holythundered and hopefully not an enemy of our civilization, is standing on what's left of specut's corpse. Towards the center right you can see the start of a wall that will someday extend all around our pasture and entrance, if we don't all die first. Towards the top is the various still-unmoved debreis from the wagon, and the “Central Staircase.”

The pond in the upper-lefthand corner holds Rentname, the current holder of the “Done the Most to Undo This Fort” award, between killing a dwarf, not being butchered for food, preventing us from selling said dwarf's clothing, and kicking off the insanity of Specut as the proximate and part of the ultimate cause. The bridge is a little one-tile thing right at the river's bend, or rather it will be. I also increased the size of the window slightly to help you position the next picture.

Toward the top left is the drained murky pool, which now has a mason's workshop in it, right next to a chunk of ice crystal. Also visible is the Central Staircase.
And there's not really much more to show.

In case anyone wants to look at it in more detail, the save for Dawnstone.

[GreatWyrmGold]

The End is Here. 

-----

I am the only sane one left.

Oh, gods.
And now that poor dog suffocated.

Slate 18, 1051
I made the bridge and took a nap.

Slate 19, 1051
In an unexpected bit of maturity, Hode decided to be the fortress tanner. Then promptly started hauling stuff.

Slate 21, 1051
Hode was about to build the tanner's shop, but was interrupted by an angry bullfango.
Bullfangos are large, angry wild boars. Not having her pick, Hode was defenseless.
Then they got angry.
Two were chasing Hode, and another two were attacking our poor yak, which I tried to save. It...didn't work out.

The two chasing the yak stopped being angry at our existance, but poor Hode still had to deal with it. Oh, and the bullfangos just got angry again.

Eventually, with no wounds to us, the bullfangos all calmed down simultaneously, allowing us to continue our work. I appointed Hode to take over Specut's work.

Slate 22, 1051
Bullfangos are bothering Hode again. One actully gored her! And they knocked our yak into a pool. Not the one where Rentname is, though.

AND THEN THEY CAME TO OUR ENTRNCE! DUHN DUHN DUHN!

Sorry, couldn't resist.   Seriously, though, a bullfango chased me into our fair(ly unimpressive) hole-in-the-dirt. I managed to run past it, though, leading the beast out before it could kill our other dog (or me).

Slate 23, 1051
Hode made the tanner's shop, but it was too late: The horsehide had already rotted.

Slate 24, 1051
Hode began to clean the wood burner.

Slate 25, 1051
I decide that it would be intelligent to build a farm plot for all plump helmets, all the time.

Slate 28, 1051
I actually build that plot.
Also, Hode is setting up the dormitory.

I decide to try and save the yak. Remarkably, it works.

Felsite 1, 1051
Another Bullfango attacks Hode. Or, rather, a bullfango attacks hode again. It decides to call it a day after chasing her around a bit, but two others pick up the slack. Valiently, and more than a little insane, she charges at them, but gets kicked until she's unfeeling and unseeing with pain. Then...

...and I am alone.
All a-fucking-lone.
Listen to me. I used to be a nice, faithful worshipper of Pestrat...

...doing my chores, growing and weaving the rope reeds, saying my prayers, sacrificing an apaceros every solstice. And then I run off with one boy, for one night, and the next day I discover that a wildfire destroyed my family's farm, my whole life! Next thing you know, I'm cursing and trying to figure out how to survive the bullfangos and not anger Rentname while still not starving!
And now I'm doing it all alone.

Felsite 2, 1051
I decided to make six caskets, and claim the former dorm for myself. I'm the sovreign, undisputable ruler of Dawnstone, and I control my populace of one with an iron fist.

Having decided this, I decide to move our food underground. Hell, it's not like Things Woman Was Not Meant To Know are going to burst out of the ground if I carve out a little stockpile that isn't infested with flies and rats from the surface, and that I can go to without being attacked by angry bullfangos.


They put the poor girl out of her misery, I guess.

On a side note, I name the killer of Hode “Skewerbent,” because it skewered that bent-crazily mind of hers.

Felsite 6, 1051
Mi-fucking-asma. The various parts of Specut are starting to rot. Yippee.

Felsite 8, 1051
As I was getting a drink from our still-very-exposed food stockpile, a bullfango got angry at my fucking existance. I managed to dodge its attacks, but a friend joined.

Just...Just let it end...let it be fucking over...why the hell am I still writing in this jou


-----

Well, crap. I was hoping to develop Niwir's backstory and a genera plot. What happened to the other merchants, the boy Niwir “ran away” with, the cryptic clues of Wyvernsheart...so much potential, gone.

We have a choice. One one hand, we (that is, I) could reclaim Dawnstone. However, the waterfall was ruining my FPS and I'm interested in trying the Dorf Space mod. Threfore, the other choice is that I simply make a new, Dorf Space world, and start a surface fort there. I'll wait until this evening or maybe tomorrow to hear your responses, depending on how fast you respond.
Here is the world for anyone who cares.