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[dwarf -lover-]

I actually am, and was about to begin.

Well I'd hurry if I was you :\

[zomara0292]

Awww , and I was almost done with my intro. Anyway, wish you the best. I looked around and you have very little manpower to work with.

[Ezk1]

Well things like "lack of manpower" are just mere delays that are easily overcomed whit little bit of good old-fashioned dwarf ingenuity :p

[kytuzian]

I though Zomara was going to do it? He still can if he wants.

[dwarf -lover-]

At this point I don't mind which of you do it, whoever does it first.

[zomara0292]

I guess I will then.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Notes from the “strange rock that records what I say and do and spits it back at me when I want it to”
By Athra

A broad and muscular dwarf raised slightly out of bed. Either the Gods were calling out to him, or he had a particularly bad drink of ale last night. He hoped it was the latter, because as he replayed what happened the night before, even his hang over could not drown out the obvious fact. He denied tradition. He made himself the leader of Lastrags. He sighed and looked back at the stone screen:

“I am going to call off the name of the dead TAKEN (“Why did I say taken?”) Dwarves. Kassie, Eaststep, Shark, and Dwarf Lover. We will mourn the loss of them and the dozen of our other brothers later. Right now, we must survive. There are only eight of us left, but we can do it. We will not only be Ulolunib, a measly village hiding in the dirt. NO! That was not what the Gods had planned for us when we started. We will become a mighty capital! Follow me, and I will lead you to the Gods chosen plan! Give me one year to prove my metal sharper than Adamantium!”

 The beginning of shouting and applause can be heard before he commands the rock to stop. Well, His coffin was sealed, so he might as well make himself a jewel encrusted one. Athra looked around for a rock big enough to chisel some notes and plans on. He had a long year ahead of him.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


and thus  starts my first succession game and claim to this succession year. Expect my first actual post around 4 p.m. today.

[dwarf -lover-]

Notes from the “strange rock...

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

 that records what I say and do and spits it back at me when I want it to”
By Athra[/center]


A broad and muscular dwarf raised slightly out of bed. Either the Gods were calling out to him, or he had a particularly bad drink of ale last night. He hoped it was the latter, because as he replayed what happened the night before, even his hang over could not drown out the obvious fact. He denied tradition. He made himself the leader of Lastrags. He sighed and looked back at the stone screen:

“I am going to call off the name of the dead TAKEN (“Why did I say taken?”) Dwarves. Kassie, Eaststep, Shark, and Dwarf Lover. We will mourn the loss of them and the dozen of our other brothers later. Right now, we must survive. There are only eight of us left, but we can do it. We will not only be Ulolunib, a measly village hiding in the dirt. NO! That was not what the Gods had planned for us when we started. We will become a mighty capital! Follow me, and I will lead you to the Gods chosen plan! Give me one year to prove my metal sharper than Adamantium!”

 The beginning of shouting and applause can be heard before he commands the rock to stop. Well, His coffin was sealed, so he might as well make himself a jewel encrusted one. Athra looked around for a rock big enough to chisel some notes and plans on. He had a long year ahead of him.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


and thus  starts my first succession game and claim to this succession year. Expect my first actual post around 4 p.m. today.

I definitely look forward to seeing how you pull us out of the grave.

[Paulus Fahlstrom]

Graves... make it plural, cause every named character had died. Dwarf-lover- only just barely, regrettably. I had been hoping to spare him since he was so useful.

 

[zomara0292]

It was a rough month geting things started, and I had to throw in some details that I had missed but:
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took him a couple of hours to get started, as he looked through the notes of the previous leaders. He haddn’t paid much mind in what was going on until the first couple of ambushes, so he needed to catch up on their ideas and compare them to what was truly necessary to the now, and his pain. There was a wall that was being made, but why? And so many dead littered the place. And then, as though to break his train of thought, his room door slammed open, and Edgaard came in.
“Sir? You said you wanted to see me in the morning?” He said as he ran his fingers through the unbraided part of his beard. He looked tired, as if he had been working all day, and was carrying his on slabs of notes, filled to the brim with information on all his duties and covered on the sides with math equations.
“ Errr. I did? I mean, yes! Yes I did. Do you know why I called you here today?” Athra stumbled over his words as he spoke and scratched his nose. Why in all of this hellhole, would he have called him in? One more look at Edgaards notes told him why. It was a mess. A horrid, decrypted, unsightly mess.
“Edgaard. I am stripping you away of two of you positions. For the sake of our wounded, you see.” He explained as he looked down at an arrow sticking through his right rib side. With that, he continued.
“You worry about getting everyone back into tip top shape. That and you can handle trading matters. I can’t find anyone more suited for that rule than you.”
Edgaard nodded and turned toward the door. As he walked out he could barely hear Athra call out that Edzul should take his job as bookkeeper, right before he screamed from pain and passed out.
Athra woke up after what felt like a short and futile nap. He felt terrible and tried to turn off his bed, The pain was excruciating and almost caused him to faint again. The arrow was still in him, his throat felt dry, and his belly completely empty. He struggled once more to look at his queer rock as he commanded it to play. He watched his eyes open on the screen as apparently woke up in the night and wrote on some tablets nearby his bed. He watched as he put it under his pillow and wink at the screen. Within that instant, Athra felt that his pillow became slightly harder, and prompted to check what caused the change. There he found instructions of what to do next.
1.   Stop all production and outside jobs
2.   Focus on getting the dead into a safer place for burial
3.    Mass produce coffins
4.    When the new group of migrants come in, get an assessment ready for job assignment
5.    Leave me the tablets of notes for when I next wake
6.    GET ME SOME FOOD AND WATER BEFORE I-
Before he could finish reading everything, he heard someone walking down the hall in his direction. He placed the stone tablet face down as Edgaard walked in.
“Time for me to clean your wounds, Overseer.” he said with a twisted smile. Edgaard reached out and felt around the area the arrow was sticking out of, mumbling to himself as he did so.
“I thing I know how to fix this.” And with that he yanked out the foreign object, sending so much pain through Athra’s body, that he swooned once more. 
Athra woke up once again, after being out for nearly a month.  Just as the instructions said, there was a huge pile of tablets stacked next to each other, on the side of his bed. He grabbed the smallest and shortest one, just a notice from the Doctor telling him that he wasn’t allowed to leave the bed. The next 18 that he went through were the skill sets of all the new migrants that came in on the 21st of Granite.
“Twenty what?!?!” He screamed allowed only to be answered by a small ting of pain in his side. He apparently had been in and out of it for almost over a month. This wouldn’t do for him, but it would do him no good to complain, so he sat up and got to work mapping out who would do what.
Several hours later, he was finished. Just the act of writing tired him out. He was still starving and dying of thirst, wondering when the doctor will bring rations to him. Like a call from the Gods, Aban came in that very second, fresh food and a bucket of water in hand.
“Doctor says this is for you.” he said, and, before Athra had the chance to open his mouth, shoved it all down his mullet at once and left. He chocked and struggled to get it all down and fell doing so, knocking over a couple of the tablets, revealing a quite detailed picture of the fortress (http://www.mkv25.net/dfma/map-10792-3).  He saw what he had to do. It was so clear; he didn’t even understand why he didn’t see it before. He went to work drawing the schematics.

[zomara0292]

By the time I got to that part, it had been a little less than a month. And, when that month was up. . . . . . . . I will let you see with my next post

[zomara0292]

It came on the 17th of Slate. It was a decrepit looking beast from forgotten lore. In fact, when the news was told to him, the frightened Dwarf just kept repeating over and over again that it was our curse. He had seen an enormous, three eyed Oriole. Yes, a bloody orange bird with a trunk. It looked as though it had been starving in that cave for decades, breathing fire in all directions as it chirped, searching for a pray. Athra didn’t know what to do, other than leave all points of the cave sealed off in hopes that it would just leave.

In the mean time he had to calm down any Dwarf that was in a panic. Athra called the screamer in and told him to tell everyone. There was a meeting to be held in a week. He also handed him a list of project that needed to be worked on, based off of the map he had found some time ago. He stood out of his bed for the first time in a month. It felt so good not to be hit by nerve racking pain. He stumbled around a bit as he got his legs back, and walked to his room.  To find that it had been taken from him . . . . . . . and given to no one.

This angered him, until he was told whose room he had been given. He was a noble now, so he had a regal room one that looked three times better than his prier dwellings. All he had to do was move his things there and it was his, along with all the furniture in there. So he did, but waiting on the lead and acacia bed, was two tablets. Each one with its own megabeast on it.

“Oh shi-“ right then Zaneg burst in, and walked all the way to the bed.

“So now you know. This is information that Kassie refused to let out in fear of the panic that went on today.” He said in a matter of voice.

“Now what are you going to do? Tell them of the-“
Within an instant he was cut off “I will do nothing of the sort. It is my duty to protect these Dwarves. I take that quite seriously. Now leave me. I have much to think about.” With that Zaneg nodded and left.


It was the 8th of Felsite, the later part of spring. Athra had done nothing the last couple of days of the last month, but trying to figure out a place for everything. He couldn’t just move the burials, so he had to try to stuff coffins in there without ruining the order and piece. He even had to convert the war diner into a storage room to make space for all the items they had floating around, though he could reasonably bless the fact that they had plenty to give for trade when a trader comes in. He ordered bins to be made to help ease the need for space, but it just seemed like they weren’t being made fast enough. Everything was a mess. A horrid, unsightly mess. And then he heard it. Shouting from the halls.

It sounded like one of the dwarfs he had recently met named, Unib. “I know what to make!” She screamed at the top of his lungs. “I got it! I got it”
“Got what?” Athra tried to ask, but was only met by a chubby Dwarf running through the mining area and brake neck speeds. All he could manage to do was follow her as she ducked trough still low walls and up spiral stair cases all the way to the Craftdwarf’s workshop. She carved a note straight into the workshop that said ‘do not touch’ with her nails and ran off again, grabbing every bone she could find. After about an hour of doing so, she sat down and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“I MUST HAVE MORE BODY PARTS!” Athra: thats what she said.

[zomara0292]

Ok, so I lost a good portion (all two and a half pages of it) of what I had been spending the last two days writing soooo. . . . . . watch me try to fix it in the most awfulltastic way.

[Shark]

This is actually pretty good, though. I like your writing style. Keep going!

[zomara0292]

Athra ordered one of the squads to get her what she was crying for. They could not afford another tantrum spiral, after what happened last time. Days past, and the team, nor any game had come. Then word came.
“The elves have come for trading, sir.” Said one of the dwarves.
“Good, have some of the others grab boxes of clothes and take them to for trade, then go get Edgaar so he can do his job.” With that, he watched the stubby dwarf run off to give the orders, and headed up himself to talk to the elves to see if they could strike a more permanent deal. All he managed to do, though, was set foot out in to the open when the cry was heard, cut short by a series of scared screams and blood thirsty yelps.
“Gates! He screamed himself, hoping that one of the soldiers were nearby.
“Yes, Sir?” replied a nearby Dwarf carrying a bloodied piece of clothing.
“Get the rest of your squad and tell all you can to come inside. You have five minutes before we close and look the doors for the night.”
The order was solid and to the point. All the soldier did was picked up his horn and blow. Within seconds two other dwarves showed, were given their orders, and left.
It took a few hours, but they got as many as they could inside.
“It seems as though we lost a man.” Reported one of the soldiers.
“We will morn his loss later, right now, I guess we must focus on the in-“
There was a banging on the front door. All the dwarfs fell quiet. Was this the end? Will they all fall to the filthy, disgusting goblins?
“Let me in! For the love of the Gods let me in!”
It was a woman’s voice.
“Open it. With squads in position in case it’s another ambush.” It was a risky procedure, but it would look even worse if there really was a fellow dwarf in behind those doors. Athra grabbed a nearby bolt, brown with dried blood from the previous attack, and prepared himself. The heavy dacite doors were unlocked slowly and then thrown open by the frighten and panicked lady on the other side. Following far behind were angry elves, shouting out unheard words in their foolish tongue. Whether they wanted in or not, it would go unheard, for the door slammed shut as quickly as it was opened.
“Is that everyone?” Athra shouted aloud. There were no real replies. Only mumbles and grunts as the dwarfs went to work doing what they could. Athra sighed and turned to go into his room.
It was mid-summer when they were able to leave the Fort again. Seven of the dwarfs had never returned, and Athra could only hope that they were alright.
“Alright,” He said during one of the meeting, “I think it’s time to venture out and reclaim our missing.” He didn’t want to admit that they were dead until he saw them, but it would be difficult not to. It had been two months, so, if they had not starved to death, they would surely be a shell of who they once were.
Expedition teams were sent out, and the first found was Reg. His rotting body was littered with holes and pools of his blood covered the ground.
Next was Edgaard himself. His head was severed from his body, but a piece of a goblins clothing was clutched in his hand. It didn’t take Athra long to figure out which one.
“Bring me the goblin that smiled at me the month we found him captured. The one with the rip in his pants.” He told the nearest man to him.

[zomara0292]

I will have this finished today and kytuzian will have an extra season, If that is ok with you.