@NRDL: Can't do skills right now, but as for health: After suffering injuries which I thought would kill her for sure, Igor calmly walked back to the fort, poured herself some beer, and went back to work.
A bit of BAD news: I embarked here partially because the embark map claimed that this place has Deep Metals. After extensive searching (as you shall see), I have discovered that there is NO ore. At all. Nada. Zilch. I'll press forwards, of course, especially as evil geniuses rarely have competent soldiers anyways; but this could spell an early end for our fort. Of course, all this REALLY does is give me an excuse for more elaborate death traps! We DO have a volcano, after all.
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Early SpringIgor pushed the foliage ahead of her aside with her single good arm. Down in the valley bellow, at least fifteen Dwarves were approaching. "Damn!" she thought. "That makes forty... Where are they all coming from?" She ran down the hill and approached them. "Who are you?" she cried out. "Migrants!" they answered, "We seek Anvilclasp!" "You have found it, then" said Igor. "How do all of these migrants find us?" she said to herself.
"Because" answered a dark, chilling voice from the rear of the group, "I told them where too go."
Count UrVlad has returned.
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"What in the nine Hells was the Elf-licking moron who made this chair thinking when he made it out of Microline?!" shouted Urist McDonald at one of the Dwarves hauling said throne into place. "I said I wanted dark, subdued colors, not bright blue! God!" She stormed out of the newly built dining room and headed past the bird roost, where another Dwarf was pushing a flock of squawking birds through the door. "No! No! NO! We butcher the males! We don't want those eggs to get fertilized, or they'll be RUINED!" she shouted at him as she noticed a peacock among the flock. She continued stomping past the butchery block to the newly mined chamber where they'd be keeping the various monkeys from now on. "Only one Black-Crested Gibbon?" she asked, disappointed. "Well, ma'am, we were going to have two, but the hunter shot one of them before it got caught in the traps." The monkeys darted away to the corners of the room as McDonald began ranting about Ape McNuggets and breeding pairs.
A hesitant Dwarf stepped up. "Ma'am? We finished taming those alligators". To his relief, Urist suddenly calmed down. "Finally! A shred of efficiency! Well, go talk to the miners. Tell them I want a breeding pit set up. And see if we can't toss them some goblins; they'll be hungry."
From behind, came the same chilling voice. "I love what you've done with the place, Urist. Why don't we feed ALL of your animals goblins?"
Urist slowly turned around to find Count UrVlad standing behind her. "M...Master? You're alive? I mean, uh... Thanks."
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Anderz roared as he charged the lone capybara who hasn't been trapped yet. The rest of the herd had fallen to McDonald's traps, but this one stayed outside the cages and prevented the Dwarves from taking the caged ones back to the fort. At the sight of the roaring axedwarf, the giant rodent took off into the jungle. Anderz helped the other Dwarves carry the cages back to the fort. When he entered, the dark figure of Count UrVlad stepped up to him.
"You're pretty handy with that axe, new guy. I can use you... Yes, indeed..."
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Gar wiped the sweat off her brow and stood up. Before her were dozens of mechanisms, the tiny objects that powered all of McDonald's traps. Without her making these and Igor placing them, the fort would never have trapped so many enemies, and poor Libash wouldn't have been the only one dead.
Count UrVlad entered the room. Gar wasn't surprised; she knew he'd be back, one of these days. The Count looked around the room for a long time. Finally, he spoke: "I need you to do some planning for me, Gar."
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When Lunaire saw The Count for the first time in a year, she was determined to impress him. A bit too determined, in fact; something in her head shook loose. Dashing into the fort, she kicked one of the migrants out of the carpenter's workshop and locked the door. She worked without stopping for food or drink for hours, before her work was completed: A wooden casket, beautifully made. She smiled as The Count entered the room. He said nothing, but the corners of his mouth rose a bit and he gave a tiny nod before turning and leaving the room.
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Winterdirge had been mining for hours. Days. Maybe weeks? Everything started to blend together after a while. He'd carved stairs down hundreds of feet already, and he was determined to keep going. Already, he'd dug past three huge caverns, each filled with strange plants and animals. But he found no metals in any of them; not a single ore vein. So he kept digging, down down down.
Another swing of the pick down; another few feet. And then, suddenly, he swung his pick and the microline floor crumbled away, revealing a wall, clearly worked and smoothed by sentient hands, made of some strange material he could not arm.
Whatever this was, it would require investigation; Winterdirge prepared to continue excavating.
Suddenly, someone was behind him, tapping his shoulder. He turned to see The Count. Here, hundreds of feet bellow ground.
But when it came to the count, nothing was surprising. "Leave your toys for now, Winterdirge. I have a project for you." He handed Winterdirge a scroll, and began climbing up the stairs.
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Topic: Anvilclasp: Fortress of the Count (Read 2862 times)