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[dwarf -lover-]

I'll check the thread again tommorow (23rd, 5 days is more than enough) if he is still a no-show cappstv is up. From then on you have 48 hours from receiving the save to post your first log or you're skipped. Everyone in agreement?

[Ezk1]

Agree, atleast if he has somekind real life obstacles or something, he should notify us.

[zomara0292]

Agreed.

[Shark]

I like how we completely took over for him. xP

Hopefully we can keep this game running, I want to see it go somewhere

[dwarf -lover-]

New rule changes applicable immedietly:

(1) Players will have 48 hours maximum between the time the save is sent to them and their first journal is posted. If this time elapses with no first post the player's turn will be skipped and they will have to re-sign up for a later slot.

(2) Upon the submission of the player's first post the player has 4 days to complete his\her turn. If this 4 day time limit elapses without the next player in line receiving the save the player will be skipped.
 (2a) If the player posts the save after the 4 day time period but before the next player posts their first journal, he might receive credit for his turn.

The current playlist reads:

Year 1 : Shark
Year 2 : dwarf -lover-
Year 3 :LoneTophat (Me) Skipped
Year 3 : cappstv Skipped
Year 3 : Paulus Fahlstrom
Year 4 : zomara0292
Year 5 : kytuzian
Year 6 : Ezk1
Year 7 : Shiio
Year 8 : Empty
Year 9 : Empty
Year 10 : Empty

Good luck cappstv

[Ezk1]

Agree with those rules, thou i think that even notifying that you are playing is enough for rule 1, of course that you then get you journals and turn done in time rule 2 says.

[Shark]

If people have good journals with pictures, give them more than 4 days if they ask for it.

[zomara0292]

I do not agree with that. Good is too relative of a term. What if the person who goes before them writes a journal so descriptive that pictures only serve to make the journal redundant, or, what if the person who comes after does not have such a skill for writing? It will look as though that one cant write for crap. And trust me, I have experienced it first hand.

[dwarf -lover-]

Requests for more time will be judged on the effort put in, not everyone is going to shit out a artifact level piece of prose. If you put in the effort to make your turn interesting for everyone and require more time, you will get it. Inversely if you describe the first two seasons as "eh not much goin' on" no one is going to be happy about giving you more time.

On a related note cap's first 24 hours are nearly up, I hope to see something from him by tomorrow.

EDIT:

cap's time is up, now pming "Paulus Fahlstrom" hopefully he hasn't given up as well.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

I haven't. I'll take the last save and go from there. Despite my misgivings about keeping a thread alive that the creator has abandoned before even taking a turn.

[dwarf -lover-]

LoneTopHat started 2 other succession games before this one finally took off, so I say we play this out to completion.

EDIT:

Did you get my pm with the save yesterday?

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

1 Granite

At least two thirds of the fortress had crowded into their tiny dining hall. The early ones were lucky to find seats. The next batch wound up sitting on tables and the rest simply packed in among the others and the yapping puppies and animals thronging the meeting hall. Near the side wall stood the High Master Chef and next to him, with a slightly wider berth, the High Master butcher. It's not that she smelled, per se, but there was the inevitable acric tang of blood around her.

The dwarves gathered around the current leader as he produced a bag of runes from his coat pocket and simply pronounced the occasion.

"We're here ta choose the next overseer, so if your name matches the runes speak up."

He reached into the bag and pulled out a series of runes. Solitary, Noble, Hat.

"Anyone?"

A disturbed ripple went through the crowd. It wasn't uncommon for the runes to be miscast, but in a fortress of nearly fifty it was uncommon.

"Let's have another go." He reached into the bag and pulled out the second set. Hat, Hat, Box.

Again a silence as dwarves started looking at each other. A nervous whisper rippled through the hall at that. Two misses. Either the gods disfavored them or they were ill-fated. It was rumored that three failures inevitably doomed a fortress to an early demise. Even two were not looked upon favorably.

"Heh... well, now, um... hmmm."

Dwarf-lover- was about to reach into the bag the third time when the butcher spoke up.

"Aye, don't reach in again. You'll curse us all. I'll step forward and assume leadership for the year. Might as well seeing as nobody else is wanting to have a go."

She muttered something under her breath and stood on the table.

"Fellow dwarves, you may call me Kassie. I'm one of the lasses around here that makes your food and you know what they say about not biting the hand that feeds ye. So ... if I see more of you lazy sacks of bones doing nothing again in my dining hall I'll let ye personally scrub down me butcher shop with your own socks!

Let's get some order and organization ta this place. Anyone without work is hereby designated as a stone-carver and mason. I want the stone halls smoothed! Blocks will be laid down over the sand floors to prevent moss growth and to make travel easier! And one more thing... No complainin' about the elephant meat! Don't blame me, I didn't kill it. Next person to complain can take it up with my friend mister cleaver here."

She whipped out her soiled knife from her apron pocket and began cleaning her nails with it.

Stunned silence greeted her at her pronouncement and after a little bit and a few nervous coughs sounded before the room was cleared and everyone got to work. As the dwarves left one was heard to remark to his fellow:

"Aye, she's no looker', but she does have a ... way with words."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(I've claimed the High Master Butcher and named her Kassie. I've also given her a decent bedroom. I was tempted to take a previous overseers room, but there was plenty of space)

It took a few weeks for all the kinks in 'The Butcher's' plans to be ironed out but a large hall near the kennels had been quarried out and several masonry shops set up there where people could work to fashion blocks any time it was available, smoothing got underway rapidly and the sandy upper rooms were designated to have stone floors laid down.

To an outside observer it seemed like a fairly smooth transition. To the manager, a lowly peasant recently promoted to his dream job it was a near nightmare. The new fortress overseer was constantly popping into his office and re-organizing task lists. At least three new bone carvers were added. A craftsman was designated as clothier for no apparent reason, work tasks were stopped.
 
Three separate times she demanded to know why they had the capacity to build no less than thirty screw pumps when they already had a perfectly functioning well and didn't need them. The manager could only shrug and reply that it was likely the insane whim of a previous overseer. The coffins literally stacked against the wall were taken down and removed, despite the bones in some of them, and set up again on newly laid stone flooring, an interior sealed garbage dump was dug and the refuse pile was cleaned out.

Apparently that was important for butchers. A new series of craftsdwarf workshops, tanner and two new butcheries were build near the food storage and refuse storage, complete with doors, since apparently the previous ruler had left nearly thirty doors lying around in the stockpiles without ever installing them.

It wasn't that he minded the change of pace, but Kassie simply had no focus, no willpower to follow through on her whims. She'd pop in and ask him to do something different, to enlarge the dining hall or dig a second food storage area below the dining hall and promptly forget about it. He'd once asked her if she wanted to know how her projects were going and she simply patted him on the cheek with a blood covered hand.

"That's what you're here for. I'm just here for vision. You're the manager, so make it happen.

Want some liver?"

He didn't dare wipe his cheek off until after she had left. It took him nearly two full hours to get all the blood out of his beard.

Things got really interesting towards late spring when a herd of new migrants arrived. She'd welcomed them, and had designated several under-butchers, farmers, and metalworkers. The rest kept their original professions but were made stone-crafters and masons like the rest.

It wasn't until a metal crafter was siezed by a fey mood that he saw here budge from her butcher's shop (were there fewer animals here than there used to be?) to see what would turn out.

He sighed. At least she didn't appear to be insane.

Probably.

(The rest will come as I get time to play, hopefully this weekend.)

[dwarf -lover-]

So far I like your writing style a lot, I look forward to your next post.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Here is the save:

http://dffd.wimbli.com/file.php?id=5120

Heh... I'm afraid I got a fair amount done... in terms of butchery. At least I managed to clean up ... um ... more than half the mess?

I suppose in terms of defenses, the wall out front needs to be finished before the fortress is properly secure. I'll provide details and descriptions in the summary to be provided when I get around to it.

(At least four capable dwarves are around.)

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Lastrags fortress records, 804

I... I hardly know where to begin. The last entry into this log book came near the end of spring but I suppose the events at the beginning of the year are most appropriate. I didn't take the warnings from the gods seriously enough then. Few of us did.

It was our mistake.

Even as the last log was written it is likely that the goblins were waiting in the wilderness outside to ambush us. Had I been one of the dozen woodcutters and haulers I likely would have died with them. I simple do not have all the details, I'm just a miner here. And spent my time working on stone far beneath the surface. Likely the only reason I live now.

As I said, the warnings were of three failed castings of the runes. And three disasters befell us a result. The first was the goblin ambushes in late spring. The first group attacked our woodcutters and fell on them before help could be roused. As it was we had a meager eight soldiers, many without useful armor, and carrying only soft metal weapons. They stood guard at the gate, or it would have been far worse. Many of the goblins tried to force their way in and were caught in our cages. (after the workers outside had been killed) The third ambush group would have succeeded if not for our forces. Forces that lost half their number before setting the goblins to rout. It was a dearly paid for victory, if it could be called such. The suddenness of it surprised all of us.

We made the best of the situation as we could and the fallen were quickly entombed and the mess cleaned, but still the wounds of that fight festered.

And so during the summer the second doom fell upon us from within. The loss of so many of our friends, lovers, family and kind unhinged more than one dwarf and soon the sounds of fist-fights, broken doors, destroyed shops and overturned tables filled the halls. And then someone went bezerk. I don't even know who but they decided to have a go at everyone in the dining hall. It may have been one of the soldiers, it seems to me that they had a weapon, but again, I wasn't there. I've heard of such tantrum spirals before, but had never seen one myself. It was an eerie, frightening thing to go get yourself a drink and find the dining hall full of people, but all are dead, strangled or chopped in pieces. I believe it was actually the fortress war dogs that finally took the crazed dwarf down, though most of the dogs died in the process.

Of course that led to further issues and by fall when the caravans arrived there were only twenty something of us left. I was downstairs carving blocks when the trading happened, but from what I saw we did manage to purchase a large amount of armor, and drink. Ironically the Butcher herself died in the first goblin attacks, or I daresay she may have been proud to see the the carnage littering the halls. I think I'll have to go spit on her tomb for cursing us all so.

Had it ceased there it would have easily been sufficiently bad, but in late fall and winter the third doom fell on us, again in the form of goblins. Many of the dwarves were outside working on construction of the fencing walls for the pasture and so we could have safe access to some sunshine and earth. Our military had been reduced and were not on duty when the goblins came again. My friend, Dwarf -lover-, may he rest in peace, had been working on building up the traps near the entrance to add a greater level of security and the masons on the wall came under attack by an ambush party.

Crossbow goblins.

None survived, and they decimated all who attempted to attack them. They shot Dwarf -lover- to death and stormed the entrance only to fall to the traps the very dwarf they'd just killed had set. Thinking all was clear many went out to gather the fallen for burial when a second group of goblins attacked. Pikegoblins, led by a crossbow goblin. More died and again the goblins stormed the entrance but were caught in our cage traps. A third group was discovered again as we frantically worked to patch the breaches in our defense and finish the walls and they struck down more in their zeal to take the fortress. They stormed the entrance, all save one who was chasing some crazy weaver around the country-side. All the goblins were caught in the cages except one who stood at the entrance to our fortress taunting us. He alone had made it through our defenses and we rallied to fight him off, all of us.

Or at least all the able bodied dwarves and we were successful in driving the goblins away and killing that one. But oh the cost.

I found this journal only two weeks ago and have been agonizing over what to write in it. I know not who shall take command of the fortress now. All seems lost to me. There are but eight of us and four are wounded, one gravely, having taken a bolt to the chest. The only thing that keeps me going is the work. I can lose myself in the rhythm of carving stone and carrying it out to the wall to try and finish patching the breach.

I fear the sun and the world above. Once the wall is finished I hope to relinquish all above ground building projects if I am able. Should I even survive that long.