Post by: Salmeuk on November 05, 2022, 11:23:31 pm
The Planet of Omen, a medium-sized celestial body 90 years in age, contains only a single volcano: The Spry Volcano. A single exposed lava tube stands tall over the red-sand desert of The Wealthy Dune. To the east live The Lone-hell of Mist, a 3000-strong goblin civilization. To the west, the mountain range The Horn of Air holds The Puzzling Pages, 1700 or so dwarves held up in various mountain fortresses. Finally, the southern plains are populated by various petty human villager-barons.
(https://i.imgur.com/0Bmz783.png)
When the sly gods created this planet, they played a game. A drinking game. "For every wild monster, ferocious beast, or devil-creature you spawn, take a swig from this goats bladder full of elderberry wine. Last god standing will be forever known as 'Goat-Legs'! "
A cruel game, for it was not long before each god lay drunk, half-submerged in the oceans or layed out over the incomplete mountain crests. No god had seen the last one to fall down, wasted as they were, and the resulting chaos and destruction allowed many more monsters to escape from hell than any one god had intended. So, being gods, they got right around to fixing everything, uh huh? Nope. They slept off the hangover and upon waking drank half the lakes in the land, before trodding off into the nether (their footsteps creating a grand series of valleys and river-lakes, so in the end it was kind of a wash).
So the story is told, by the mortal denizens of The Planet of Omen. What else would explain the horrendous over-population of every wild region with dozens of death-dealers? Let us take The Spry Volcano as an example. Within three days one can find five cyclops, two titans (marsh and sand, respectively), a roc, multiple night creatures and various other seedy figures of ill report. This example should serve as a grave warning to any who might choose to settle outside the confines of the homeland.
. . .
But, what's this on the scrying device? A small band of wanderers, leaving tracks in the snow, fighting starving dingoes and rabid ostriches, approaching The Spry Volcano... idiots! What fools! It seems the leaders are three dwarves of the anvil, judging by their singed beards and thickened shoulders.
What might come of this? Will they disrupt the local wildlife? What is their purpose here? Perhaps the dwarves smell the metal underneath.
(https://i.imgur.com/1ZAH475.png)
These dullards have set up shop at the base of the expose lava tube. Now, the three leaders are meeting, hum yes they've agreed to something. They bark orders at the other four, who appears to be hired labor. Hungry, cold, potentially unpaid and definitely unhappy.
(https://i.imgur.com/IAlRcYY.png)
As they apply pick to rock, the whole volcanic complex vibrates like a great stone dinner bell, and I begin to laugh.
====
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Post by: King Zultan on November 06, 2022, 04:54:43 am
Post by: brewer bob on November 06, 2022, 08:28:03 am
Post by: TheFlame52 on November 06, 2022, 02:10:10 pm
Post by: Salmeuk on November 06, 2022, 04:24:11 pm
the snow melts, revealing red sand beneath
Ustuth's diary. . left open for me to read. What's is going on in the mind of the miner?
Hired for a few coins and promise of easy travels and easier beer, us four laborers (Me, Ustuth, Momuz the mason, Zasit the other miner, and Alath the farmer) were misled by the gang of smiths. Olon, Zefon, and Tun, wealthy from years of work in the bustling mountainhome, set us all up in a caravan and pushed east, towards the desert and the goblins. A volcano had been discovered and they were to be among the first to arrive. So we left in haste before we could truly consider the plan.
Arrival at The Spry Volcano was a subdued afair. We expected a party or something, after all that trudging... instead Olon and Zefon immediately got to work planning excavations, while Tun got frankly hostile and demanded we unload and sort the caravan. Immediately.
They would shame us for our lack of speed, and the orders never stopped. This was some kind of waking hell. I thought about running away, but the desert just went on and on. I could never carry enough beer to make it.
Me and Zasit stuck together, watching our backs and occasionally arguing against particularly stupid directions from Tun. The digging was good, honestly, even if we were pushed hard by the masters.
Low and behold, caverns were found right next to the lava tube. A shallow cavern lake snaked through stalactites and exposed gemstone nodules.
(https://i.imgur.com/FLCt5hQ.png)
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The three smiths met, after this discovery. They came back with a set of odd plans: an enclosed room, with an exit to the caverns, and a lever controlling the door. Almost like an airlock. The room as labeled stated "Chamber for the Untested", whatever that meant. I knew the three were kooky, so I just went along with the plans, carving an exit and installing a few doors.
A staircase was dug to the rim of the volcano, and work begun on filling out the mid-level flooring that would become the frame for a gigantic pyramid. At least that's what I surmised from the whispered words of the three smiths. They wouldn't actually let on what the larger purpose was, here, and I think they had little trust or respect for us as laborers. Typical managment, aye?
It was the first migration wave that things got really weird. Three dwarfs, a farmer, smith, and a miner, plus one of their children and a puppdog, were seen climbing the red sand dunes. Apparently they wanted in on the volcano action, and saw fit to trail us over the desert. Here they introduced themselves and I was honestly looking forward to meeting someone other than these six, but the masters put a stop to the introductions mid-sentence. We were ordered to strip weapons and gear from the migrants and throw them into the small cavern airlock. Here, the inner door was locked.
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At first, they were happy to comply, thinking this was some kind of hazing ritual and once the day was up they would be let back in. But to the horror of us four laborers, the smiths had no intention of letting these migrants back into the fortress. They explained through the stone door:
Zefon spoke in a derisive tone, "We are of an elite, and under no circumstances are we to let you taint this fortress with your unskilled beards. We could tell from the look in your eyes you are unfit to serve us. Let us now test you. If you remain alive after one year, we will consider letting you work for us."
Tun cut in. "You are to be tested. Survive one year and you can join the fortress proper. This is our little test, you see? We couldn't possibly accept just anyone."
Olon remained silent, smiling coldly.
At this, the three trapped dwarves exploded in rage and tears.
Risen clutched at the puppy Bomrek. "You bastards! You will pay for this!"
Zefon replied, "We'll see how you feel, this time next year."
At that, the smiths walked away, and forbid us from communicating with the migrants, who were now abandoned in the caverns with no tools, food or drink.
(https://i.imgur.com/LJqFMcA.png)
What horror was to come, here at Vëszefon?
===
More digging and more caverns, the second layer this time:
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Work was done on the main floor, simple at first but soon the smiths demanded a complex system of magma channels to provide floor heating... ridiculous, considering we were getting no more help. unless those poor dwarfs somehow survived the caverns.
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The smiths took on the roles of nobility, holding an election amongst themselves, leaving us out of the process entirely.
(https://i.imgur.com/q7LQOjs.png)
Progress was made on the frame of the pyramid.
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Ultimately, this fortress feels like a prison. The smiths watch us from hidden corners, demanding our subservience, and I see no way out. New migrants are too gullible and we are too busy to organize. What are we to do?
===
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Post by: Maloy on November 06, 2022, 08:52:25 pm
PTW MAY THE MAGMA FLOOOOOOWWWW
Post by: brewer bob on November 06, 2022, 09:31:10 pm
Post by: King Zultan on November 07, 2022, 03:55:31 am
Post by: Salmeuk on November 07, 2022, 07:05:32 pm
---
Bomrek, pet of Risen, was a small puppy with white fur and a black tail. His head and ears were patched and golden, and his tiny paws spotted brown.
(https://i.imgur.com/pmyE8RU.png)
Bomrek watched Risen closely as he moaned in horror. It wasn't a normal noise from the master, so Bomrek crept up close and nuzzled Risen's muddy leg. Bomrek did not know why, but he felt very sure that Risen was the best dwarf there ever was.
(https://i.imgur.com/90MGUeJ.png)
Risen eventually earned his name when, at the sound of a large creature leaving the nearby lake, he lept to his feet clutching at Bomrek. Risen knew Bomrek was the best dog, ever, and he would die to keep him alive. The monstrosity now approached with heaving, watery plops - a gigantic cave toad!
All those present joined in defense. The aggressive toad was soon wounded and limped away, skulking about the water's edge and threatening us with great piercing toad screams.
The toad final succumbed to the wounds caused by the fight. The heavy, bulbous creature was thrust into the lake to prevent its corpse stink attracting further predators. Larger ones.
(https://i.imgur.com/hin0Jtp.png)
Life then began, anew. Boulders had been left by their captors, really gneiss ones. A workplace was constructed allowing the "Untested" to skin and gut the blind, albino cave fish with ease. These fish were the only species present, but they were present in huge numbers and would become the main source of protein for these captives. So too the various fungal sprouts were collected.
Occasionally, naked mole dogs would crawl through the fungal fronds and steal food. Their fuzzy paws proved effective for stealth operations. The strange naked rat creatures were horrifying in the dark caverns.
Without an axe, no wood could be taken, and no barrels constructed, so no alcohol distilled. These dwarves struggled with this fact, greatly.
But life went on with little interruption until another commotion was heard at the cavern airlock. Another six very confused looking dwarves appeared, and were soon brought up to speed on the whole situation. Most of these new dwarves became despondent, much like the original three.
This regimented, boring life of survival was distinctly unpleasant to the dwarves, who expected a bare minimum of civilization when arriving but nothing like this. The only two activities were fishing, drinking stale cavern water, and watching fungus grow.
"If only we had an axe, they moaned." Yet still, these unlucky few now lived three seasons amongst the mushroom forests and cramped passages. Then, disturbingly, more voices were heard. Many, many more.
A huge sprawling stream of new dwarves stumbled out of the airlock. At least thirty. A huge wave of hopeful migrants, all callously tossed down the pit, into this hellhole. Would the fish stocks feed this many? The fungus certainly wouldn't as the slow growing mushrooms barely sufficed for the current few.
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Most were indoctrinated into cavern life. They had no choice, really. Two dwarves were convinced they might find an upward passage and left into the dark, never to be seen again, and even though none of us acknowledged this event, it was decided there was no other way out.
So, life continued. But Risen had been counting, you see, and was ready for the year to be up. Four days remained. He didn't know what to expect. In all honestly he just wanted out. Revenge and associated thoughts would come later.
Oh, and Bomrek? Now a fully grown dog. Scarred after the toad fight and another, lesser encounter with a gorlak. One of the other captive dogs had faced a naked mole dog and lost when the mole tore out his guts. Bomrek was both lucky and smart to have survived this whole year.
===
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Post by: delphonso on November 07, 2022, 11:26:53 pm
Post by: Salmeuk on November 09, 2022, 12:55:01 am
Risen and the other six from the first migrant waves were released today. Their names were called and the door was opened at the end of a long hallway. The smiths (who's ability to recall the appearances of these specific captives, having only seen them briefly one year previous, was impressive) judged the assembled seven to be the correct crew, and let them out. More, unselected dwarves were seen peeking around the airlock, but the smiths shouted insults and threatened death with their sharpened axes. They carried these weapons at all times, curved black-steel axes sharpened to a blueish sheen, weapons of pure violence.
The six so-called untested had graduated, and they stood before us, with wild stares and thin, ghastly frames. They stunk of fish-filth and toad. The dog was some kind of rabid mutt and barked and barked at the smiths. Oddly enough, Risen the miner (the only one of the six who's name I recalled, since he was the one with the dog) seemed in far too pleasant a mood for having only been released moments ago. And he kept eyeing my pickaxe.
The smiths ordered us prepare a banquet of assorted wild vegetables and the aged, mountainhome-brewed mushroom wine from their personal reserves. All of us feasted, with the wine being served graciously first to the trio of smiths (our lords) and then the now-freed captives, and finally the rest of us all received a thimble-ful to sip on for our continued loyalty.
Risen took to chatting up the smiths, putting on a certain tone of subservience. The smiths, who turned gregarious as they drank, pestered Risen for stories of starvation and near-death encounters, who happily complied. It was unclear how this dwarf had become so dissociated from these events. He told these stories almost like they happened to someone else, but then the scars on his arms and legs told us he wasn't spinning tales. How very odd. That night my sleep was disturbed by fears of Risen and his newfound political power.
Journal of Risen, Freed Captive, Survivor of the Caverns
The plan had worked. Those three sociopaths took the bait. All it took was a little rapport-building, brown nosing, whatever you want to call it. I had hese skills I learned in the markets back home, bartering for equipment and taking on contract jobs. You always want the boss to think you're a good person. So when I emerged from that dirty hellhole, I put on my best sleaze and made friends with the so-called 'Smiths', who ran this place like little despots. Building some pyramid in the desert, utter vanity!
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A week in and the fools trusted me with the keys to equipment storage. There, I found a number of weapons (revenge for this entrapment weighed heavily on my mind) but I ignored these for the true goal: pickaxes. I collected one of these and carried it below, to the airlock, to my companions still left alone down there.
Having stolen the codes to the mechanisms from the Olon's room while he lay drunk, the mechanisms were quick to operate. As the plan went, I deposited the pickaxes and a crude map of the extant fortress in the airlock and hurriedly returned to the upper fortress, locking the gate, and dusting my tracks. My friends downstairs would know what to do with those tools and map, yes they would. I doubt the others would notice the missing pick.
(https://i.imgur.com/S5erfor.png)
Meanwhile I would lay low and occupy myself with hard labor and alcohol - anything to forget the taste of cave fish.
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Journal of Ustuth
I saw him, Risen, sneaking down the airlock with a pickaxe. What the hell was he doing? Those thirty trapped dwarves would have nothing but revenge on their mind and without the proper re-introduction to society they might do something awful. Never get in front of a vengeful dwarf with a pickaxe.
I would hold on to this little detail for a rainy day. I could always feign ignorance if something came of it. Its not like those Smiths cared much of me, and who knows? Maybe those "Untested" would come out of the dark tunnels and free us from this slavery. . . I took to leaving my pickaxe by the bed as I slept, both to defend myself and to clearly signal my status as "loyal but indifferent lackey". No revolutionary pickaxe to the head for me, thank you very much!
===
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Post by: Salmeuk on November 09, 2022, 11:42:13 pm
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Crundles snuck out of the second cavern and up the main staircase, collecting themselves at the volcanic rim.
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Tobul, poor dwarf that he was, fell down the volcano while chasing a crundle. The last thing he saw, before completely melting, was blue adamantine.
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The central dining and temples were coming along nicely:
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A standard masonry was established:
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========
Below, the captive dwarves worked furiously. In preparation for the downward migration, they had begun to store fish in carved stone pots. The single pick was given to Kivish Glovebucks, and he hacked away, downward, carving a thin staircase between the first and second caverns.
(https://i.imgur.com/a9dNHz9.png)
Then he pushed further and further, searching for the final cavern layer.
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If Risen's map was true, the caverns had yet to be found by the upper fortress. And the smiths were uninterested in digging deeper, since the lower stone was not expected to carry metal.
Then, the shrike came. What is a shrike? A devil-bird. . .
(https://i.imgur.com/rwMZ0GV.png)
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My god. So many dead. Dwarves ran for the secret passage, while Kivish waited impatiently by the lever. Screams were heard from the outer fields. No one thought to bring the food. Maybe a dozen dwarves piled in the downward passage before the lever dwarf panicked and slammed the gate shut, trapping one hapless dwarf in between the rock and the mechanisms, crushing them.
(https://i.imgur.com/y6mgL6f.gif)
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The survivors huddled in the thin passage, waiting for the shrike to breach the gate and kill them all. But it never happened. Then, from below, Kivish shouted, "The caverns! There's food!"
Kivish Glovebucks, named 'rescue miner' by the others for his furious work digging this downward passage than ended up saving their lives, had become the de-facto leader of the cavern gang. As he hacked away at the rough edges of the gap just discovered, he smelled an earthy, fruity essence, that of the plump helmet. Real food! The abundance was thrice that of the first cavern. Amazing!
===========
Regarding the shrike, well, no one from the upper fortress was aware of it. So when another wave of migrants arrived, the same procedure was followed: stuff them into the holding cell, cycle the airlock, and forget about them for a year.
But when that airlock was opened a disgusting stench filtered up the stairs. Something was amiss: there was no sound of the usual greetings. Then, screaming death, and as the bridge was sealed the large talons of a killer bird-beast were seen reaching through the low exit. This fighting went on for a minute, then only a faint dripping. . . The smiths looked at each other, unsure of what to do.
Then shouting from above. A mysterious death shocked all:
(https://i.imgur.com/WSFMeHv.png)
Tun, one of the three smiths, had died in the staircase. Cause of death? Unknown. His mouth was dry as sand when discovered. The other two smiths, Olon and Zefon, retreated to their noble suites, and a shouting match was heard through the stone door.
Was it a suicide? Had Tun simply given in to the tedium? Two years had passed since arrival and the dwarves were still living in rough stone rooms. It was clear there was a division in the fortress. But Tun had seemed content to rule over the laborers, and shown no signs of despondency, and so the mystery remained.
===
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Post by: brewer bob on November 10, 2022, 12:01:40 am
Seems like things are heating up (for Tobul, quite literally - got to love that when candy is found by a dorf sinking into magma. Praise Tobul!).
Post by: King Zultan on November 10, 2022, 03:35:00 am
Post by: Salmeuk on November 12, 2022, 02:08:11 am
(https://i.imgur.com/EySdwQi.png)
dwarf labors in the sand-fields
====
base of the pyramid takes shape:
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flooding of the inter-room magma heating channels (OSHA un-approved!):
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beginning of. . . something?
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one of the survivors of the cavern 'test' enjoys a simple pleasure, in the central dining hall:
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more coffins are needed :'( :
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volcano dreams:
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Post by: brewer bob on November 12, 2022, 07:08:12 am
one of the survivors of the cavern 'test' enjoys a simple pleasure, in the central dining hall:Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Ah, nothing is better than a good strawberry for a meal at a *cobaltite table*!
Post by: Salmeuk on November 12, 2022, 11:52:12 am
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Post by: Salmeuk on November 15, 2022, 01:27:53 am
all those dead, and no one knew their names...
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at least six spirits haunt this fortress. scaring child and warrior alike. here are the few I saw:
(https://i.imgur.com/3ty8qCt.png)
Story of the Sword Militia
After the death of Tun, the trio of Smiths was now a mere duo. They seemed skittish around us, as if we might rise up in rebellion. So when the next wave of migrants arrived, they gave them a set of training weapons and locked them in the stonewall barracks, on the surface.
"Train. Fight. If you do not die, you will become one of us!"
Story of Dead Third Smith
Tun's death seemed a random occurrence, but that did not stop Olon the Smith from interrogating each and every one of us on his last known whereabouts. Nothing ever came of this interrogation, at least that us underlings know about. And as far as we could tell, the smiths had zero suspicion of one another.
Story of the Ghost of Tun
Tun's return shocked us. His ghostly apparition floated up from the floor and grasped at the many barrels of stocked booze. "One last drink! I need one more drink before I go!" he would wail.
(https://i.imgur.com/33J0ULP.png)
. . .continued building . . .
The Smiths decided to brick up the cavern entrance. That bird thing was too much to fight, with the paltry recruits from this last wave. More training was ordered.
one of the orphaned children went beserk after being haunted by her ghostly parents for many months.
(https://i.imgur.com/OiIDTDr.png)
The Spry Volcano is not a happy place.
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Below, the under-dwarves, the fugitives, hatched a plan. Escape. Dig straight up. And bring enough fish-pots and wine-pots to satisfy them during the desert crossing.
(https://i.imgur.com/oofgJK6.png)
Then, a siege. Fighting. Death. The Smiths did not allow the recruits weapons, and we could see them smiling as they were pushed out of the gate into the waiting bolts of the goblin horde.
Some survived, but our forces were decimated, maimed. The Smiths seemed jubilant, and we heard a passing comment as they reviewed the casualties.
"This is just as good a test of their capabilities, and much more efficient. Olon, I think we're on to something here!
If only Tun was here."
=======
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The fugitives escape through the side entrance, narrowly avoiding the sieging goblins, and leave Spry Volcano forever, hauling their pots of cavern-brew on makeshift sand-sleds, escaping to the west and towards the Mountainhome.
Except one. One dwarf Zas Stroketome returned to the fortress and snuck their way down to the caverns. There, she lay in wait, until she saw Lorbam the militia commander, and pounced.
(https://i.imgur.com/N54twoS.png)
"You will die for entombing me and my kin!"
"Wha . . ? Who the hell are you?"
Lorbam, of course, had no idea who or what the 'untested' were as he had migrated after the first deadly attack by the forgotten beast, and the subsequent decision to wall in the first cavern. As far as Lorbam knew, there WERE no other dwarves in this desert. The shock of this appearance of allowed Zas to sneak in a few hits.
But Lorbam had led sparring demonstrations for a few months now, and was well versed in fistfighting his own kind. The felling blow was a punch to the head.
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"Who was this woman? Covered in dirt and stinking like distilled mud. Did we forget her in a locked room, or something. . ? I'll have to ask the Smiths about this."
....
"Why would she try to kill me?"
==========
Below, in the second cavern, 8 legs crept up the wall. Waiting.
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A dwarven child stumbled upon the drained corpse of Vucar. A wounded giant spider lurks nearby.... how could it be dangerous, with all those broken legs?
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But those eyes, so alive. . . No!
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Four dwarves dead before anyone could halt them. The spider was freakish and strung huge curling webs from the cavern walls. Dwarves, locked in place, their swords and spears caught in the goo.... eaten alive. Envenomed, crushed, pulpated.
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Then, while the created munched upon a hapless Mason, Heroic Ezum landed a killing blow on the spider's midsection. The creature whipped around to attack, but tore itself apart, leaking a brown fluid and screaming as it died.
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Then, shouting. The drink pile! Fuck!! Iden snapped, he's ballistic!
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But heroic Lorbam is there, with one of those freshly-forged iron swordblades.
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Wow, the precision! His first strike blinds Iden, cutting out his eyeball. Quickly followed by a decapitating blow.
======
the following images tell the sad story of Ezum, hero, killer of Ilunesdor, giant cave spider, who turned to thievery and was subsequently beaten to death after our Spearguard caught up to him. I wonder who he was working for?
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The fourth years summer solstice is heralded by this masterful creation, by Olon the Smith himself:
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The total population is 65, after four years, and the escape of the fugitive 'untested'.
The flooding of the smelt-channels:
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space made for future craft shops:
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the base takes shape:
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yeah, it's that kind of fortress :-[ :
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um, I'll just let this one go:
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The supporting ramps are almost complete:
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Post by: King Zultan on November 15, 2022, 04:35:08 am
Post by: brewer bob on November 15, 2022, 08:14:21 am
Post by: Salmeuk on November 17, 2022, 02:12:06 am
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finally, an honest-to-goodness werewolf.
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Olon the Baron-Smith looks onward at Erush, captured infected werewolf, now locked in a barren chamber near the caverns. An unusually creative idea came to his mind. It would involve the newest migrants, a lever, and a small amount of bloodletting. . .
(https://i.imgur.com/L9DJXb5.png)
Post by: King Zultan on November 17, 2022, 04:55:51 am
Post by: brewer bob on November 17, 2022, 10:14:24 am
Maybe one day, I too, will witness a true werewolf...
Post by: Salmeuk on November 18, 2022, 09:58:46 pm
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Gremlins poke and prod from every angle, pulling levers and filling doorjambs with wadded up mushroom, thus letting in all kinds of beasts.
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Another demon bird arrived and still holds hostage a majority of the Untested corpses in the first cavern layer.
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This has resulted in the mass arrival of all kinds of michevious ghosts. At first, only the slightest strange events were noticed, including strange chanting during sleep hours, and the occasional rude insult heard through the walls.
But then, dwarves started dying, with their faces left in contorted painful expressions of animal fear. Two have died in this manner, and the body of the responsible spirit cannot be located, and surely lies in the inaccessible first cavern.
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At one point, a gaseous lizard attacked. This was horrifying as the previous gaseous creature released a slow poison that killed multiple dwarves over three days after that fight, with them dropping dead for unknown reasons just as they were leaving the hospital post-recovery.
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Experimentation with were-transformations has resulted in less-than-satisfactory results. The original werewolf Erush was killed during the process of blood transfer. The new werewolf, Sibrek, proceeded to murder the other three dwarves who were not so lucky as to receive the curse. It is still unclear to me how to best propogate the infection without the resulting culling of lives by the sole victor. However, Sibrek the (new) Werewolf remains alive, if insane, living in a sort of terrible room partitioned off in the second cavern.
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A visitor arrived, demanding artifacts. What a fool.
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The state of the pyramid.
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Post by: brewer bob on November 18, 2022, 10:05:29 pm
Hordes of green demon-birds (known as Giant Keas) storm the walls and steal entire stone blocks, surely to construct their gigantic nest towers in faraway lands.
Can dwarves never be safe from these vile abominations?
A visitor arrived, demanding artifacts. What a fool.Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Ah, yes, I too can only sleep well when I know that priceless artifacts are stored in unknown buildings.
Post by: King Zultan on November 19, 2022, 04:03:27 am
How can he return with it if he doesn't even know which building to take it to?A visitor arrived, demanding artifacts. What a fool.Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Ah, yes, I too can only sleep well when I know that priceless artifacts are stored in unknown buildings.
Post by: Salmeuk on November 23, 2022, 01:47:51 am
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. . . glass monkeys . . .
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. . . then, a terrible mistake!
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"Fill the gap! Evacuate the surviving miners!" shouted Zefon, the Smith, the one dwarf responsible for the final checkoff on all mining designations, thus the one dwarf responsible for this breach. Many stories are told of this very thing, and most end in dismal and fire-y death.
Here, Zefon succeeded, or rather, those around him helped him survive his own terrible mistake yet again. As one might imagine he claimed his own performance a pure feat of heroic leadership, directing terrified dwarves to haul stone blocks and mortar the gaps with the proper mixture of cement. Lava-tight construction is difficult enough as it is without the fear of dying to that lava should you fail.
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Unfortunately, this lava had to come from somewhere, and it wasn't long before the glassmakers complained that their furnaces had gone dark.
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The flickering, cooling vats of half-melted sand signaled yet another roadblock on the path to finishing this great construction.
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Below, a heavy thunk as a lever is pulled. Yet another Gremlin tinkering with the machinery, except this time the creature has activated the only lever that matters in the entire fortress.
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Sibrek the once-bitten "Herbalist" turned Werewolf immediately burst from the enclosed room and ran towards the surface. It was unlikely any of the new recruits would recognize Sibrek, covered in blood as they were. The blood might surprise them at first but in all honestly it was a common enough thing to see a dwarf painted red, returning to the surface after a violent fight or whatever.
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So when Sibrek sidled up to an unassuming visitor poet in one of the temples, just as the moon was rising above the hill, there was no one to witness the horrible transformation and terrible violence.
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Jaws dripping blood, Sibrek burst through the southern door, but immediately encountered one of the Spearguards, the elite personal guard meant to defend the Smith and their entourage. This guard (whose name I did not record) swung around and struck many times, severing the spine of the foul creature, and in so doing removing the threat. This was incredibly lucky for the fortress. So Sibrek the Werewolf died.
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Of note is the fact the visiting poet was killed praying to Fimshel, god of Death and War. It is said by our culture that temples of Fimshel must be consecrated in the blood of a murdered soul before any prayers might reach their place of heavenly repose. . . the gods are interfering at The Spry Volcano, for better or for worse.
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A vengeful ghost strikes again, but this time there is no question: this was targeted.
(https://i.imgur.com/9sEZhCj.png)
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Zefon, the final Smith, the last of the brutal overlords who founded this place, and ordered many terrible punishments upon the almost two hundred migrants who saw fit to seek work here, and saw fit to architect this gigantic pyramid for unknown, ritualistic purposes, lay dead, contorted in fear. Moments earlier, the usual subdued merriment of the few workers on their short breaks, coupled with the much more unhinged dancing and singing of the various bards that settled here to entertain us, was interrupted by a piercing, hollow scream that sounded like death itself. The dining room grew quiet as people noticed where it came from, Zefon, with his ornate collared robes and the sketching tablets he always carriered around, tallying this or that, was dead.
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No one said it out loud, but many of those present looked one another in the eyes, all thinking the same dark thought.
"Thank Fimshel, the Smith is Dead!"
One of the newbies was told to move the corpse to the refuse pile. The leader of the axe fighters, the first commander Deler Unionwinds, had been secretly voted leader after surreptitious meetings over the past weeks.
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Under Deler's leadership The Spry Volcano would live on. But with some changes.
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Post by: King Zultan on November 23, 2022, 08:26:45 am
Post by: kesperan on November 23, 2022, 08:43:52 am
Epic story so far. An actual werewolf!
Post by: brewer bob on November 23, 2022, 09:48:21 am
And nice twist of events with the last Smith dying.
Post by: Salmeuk on November 28, 2022, 02:33:54 am
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Work slows as the next phase begins. All hands are recruited to work the ashery and the glass furnace. The magma has risen to the edge of the caldera, and high above the red sand desert, hundreds of clear glass blocks are formed and cooled.
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No sign of goblins for some years now. Good. The soldiers prefer the creative work of glassmaking to the rough sparring of a full training schedule.
The pyramid will need some kind of entrance, but it remains undecided how to create this opening. Will it be a raised bridge, set upon great columns, reaching towards the pinnacle? Or an entrenched tunnel that dives beneath the sand and towards the great halls of the under-fortress? Or will an entrance be needed at all, considering a mountainhome's worth of dwarves live, work, and worship all within the confines of The Spry Volcano?
Post by: brewer bob on November 28, 2022, 08:11:56 am
Post by: King Zultan on November 29, 2022, 03:17:21 am
Post by: Salmeuk on December 04, 2022, 05:55:43 am
Dwarves sing, dance, then fight. Hatred boils over, blood coats the walls.
(https://i.imgur.com/md7U2AR.png)
Will we survive the winter? The glass flows smoothly, many blocks are formed, but not yet enough to finish, and the workers are dying in great numbers.
Damn loyalty cascade caused by my own impatience. Some trade wagon got stuck within the pyramid, forgotten for years, so long that their horses began to breed. So they were "removed" by the swordsdwarves.... someone must have witnessed this, their second cousin twice-removed losing their head, and a slow revenge is being enacted. Poets and bards and miners and masons, all are dying, one by one. Half the fortress hates the other half and runs in fear at the sight of one another, destroying productivity. This may, in fact, be the end. .
Post by: brewer bob on December 04, 2022, 10:58:57 am
They can be interesting if it involves only a small group, like what happened in Smithbridges (I think?), but yeah, horrible bug.
(Hope it's been fixed for the Steam release, since it can be quite game-breaking and not fun most of the time. Newcomers surely won't appreciate stuff like that.)
Post by: Salmeuk on December 04, 2022, 01:02:04 pm
edit: down to thirty insane dwarves. the end is nigh, I cannot bear to watch the total failure of this rather insane (somewhat tedious) project.
Let it be know, in 9 years, we ALMOST built a grand pyramid. The original founders all died under mysterious circumstances, or vengeful ghosts. Insanity befell the remaining population of workers and soldiers.
The glass pyramidion remains half-complete. As the sun sets, a complex of shadows and reflections are formed underneath this sloped ceiling. The large empty volume beneath the white blocks remains warm and toasty, but is now covered in blood and rot.
ASCII overview:
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Stonesense overview:
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The planned spiral ramp:
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Such is the brutal life of dwarven labor. See yall after the steam release :D
Post by: Maloy on December 04, 2022, 04:14:59 pm
Post by: TheFlame52 on December 04, 2022, 04:37:39 pm
Post by: King Zultan on December 05, 2022, 04:22:41 am
Post by: Maloy on December 05, 2022, 05:03:38 am
I do understand the post-cascade burn out feeling, but there is something really satisfying when you overcome it!
Post by: Salmeuk on December 05, 2022, 02:52:13 pm
with the new release coming up, I am hoping to start streaming my misadventures in Dwarf Fortress. so I think there is a very real possibility of "The Pyramid 2: Electric Boogaloo".
I must admit, even my most compelling fortresses become tiring to manage. super curious if the new version and associated updates improve this feeling
Post by: TheFlame52 on December 05, 2022, 05:12:47 pm
Post by: kesperan on December 05, 2022, 05:35:08 pm
Great story Salmeuk. :D