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[utilitarian]

Hello Everyone.

Since downloading Dwarf Fortress, I have become rather addicted. Additionally, bloodline forts seemed maddeningly fun. So, I've decided to start one. Now, I am unsure of the particular protocol in these matters, and as there is not a friendly sticky thread to guide my passage, I am very much striking out into the unknown - criticism, and other suggestions are welcomed. I supposed the following information is pertinent:

- Version number is v0.31.25
- I am using the Fortress Defense mod, in its most recent incarnation. I am using all components(Challenge, bonus, etc.) for extra fun
http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=62874.msg2792271#msg2792271
- I am using the Monster Hunter mod, which will too bring the fun quotient ever higher
http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=75325.0
- I am playing on a Mac, but I am unsure as to whether this have an effect on save file transferral, etc.
- I am using the Ironhand texture pack.


I'm probably going to hold on to it for a bit longer than is customary for the first overseer(I want to get things off the ground and progressing in a certain fashion, but if people proceed to sign up, things will progress in the usual fashion(ie 1 year/overseer).
I'll proceed as per the usual fashion.

World:
Gatalnitom: The Ageless Planet

Civ:
The Equivalent Ships

The Plan:
My general plan for this fortress is to have Tombhero have both an above and below ground component. The militia, nobles, and their associated facilities will be located in a keep, and the meat processing industries will within the outer walls. Everything else will lie below ground. I feel as if this would be in an interesting constraint. Additionally, I'd like to impose two rules:
- No 'exploits'. I'll expand on these later, but most should be obvious
- No trap spam.

Essentially, military threats(i.e. goblins or any of the innumerable creatures which will attempt to siege us should be dealt with militarily.

Overseer List
utilitarian
Kingfisher1112

Dorfin' List
Anderz       Head marksdwarf
Inferno      Hammer Dwarf

Dorfin' on a first come, first serve basis.


Prologue Pt. I

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Leagues away from the barren pit-oceans of the Sly Water. Far, far above the foetid, gnarled swamp-forests of the Mire of Stealing, it lies nestled below the twin cragged peaks of the Pure Beak, buffeted by cutting winds and nearly entombed in endless snow. A mountain-home which, upon the faded pages of its arcane and musty texts, is said to be able to trace its founding to the first days of the dwarves, before even the Age of Myth lay like a mist upon the newly-birthed Earth. It goes by many names, to many dwarves – whispered in inns between foolhardy travellers, between grim-faced migrants too far from home. 'The Hall of One Thousand Kings' 'Ale-Sea'. 'Proudpalace'.  Blood-choked'.  'Pearlforged'. But primarily, and to the hearty, rugged dwarves who call it home, it is 'Sikritholon' - 'Blazegears'. Out of its halls as old as time, nestled between the stones of its golden halls, lie countless tales - enough to fill a volume so vast that even Ulmathrik, Patron of Scribes and Engraving, would struggle to read them all. But this time, we follow but one tale - one of many.'

Prologue Pt. II

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Within one sub-half-quadrant of a tunnel complex deep within the mountain, sub-auxiliary Half-Master Scribe Urist Zukun sat hunched over his mammoth-bone desk. All craftdwarvship is of good quality. It menaces with spikes of opal and bureaucracy. Stout and short, as dwarves are want to be, he cradled his mug of ash-tea with both hands. The name of was a misnomer, of course – no dwarf in the fortress, or anywhere, for that matter, drank tea. The mixture described was the a heady bro composed of heated mead, mushroom ash, and yak blood. It was a tradition within the fortress, standard fare during the Winter months(which, in Blazegears constituted nearly the entire year) and could be found nowhere else. His job, overseeing, in part, the nearly infinitesimal part of the vast emigration efforts of the fortress, afforded him comfortable luxury. Across from his desk, carved from the stone wall was a fireplace, which now crackled with flame leaping from the logs within. A fireplace was a luxury bestowed upon comparatively few dwarves, he mused to himself. Most relied upon the fortress's magma heating, which was at best unreliable in a mountain-home of this size. The pressure was found to be ever-more unreliable the further from the main pumping array one dwelled, and on top of that, its function was often compromised by flow diversions, mechanical failures, leaks and nigh-endless list of further complications that could befall it. Even if it reached you, a score of other factors could interfere- location of the pipe, furniture placement, room size. Urist was happy for his fireplace.

Prologue Pt. III

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

He was interrupted from his reverie by the load fwoosh and thwump of a canister of scrolls exiting the pneumatic tube and landing in his office's receptacle. The section of tubs interlocked and criss-crossed the entirety of the fortress. In theory, they could deliver a message easily from end to the other, without the need for haulers. In practice, and as was so often the case with such feats of dwarves engineering, the mason's execution never quite fulfilled the engineer's planning. In practice, message delivery took great time, as the canisters snaked redundantly through the labyrinth of tubes and chutes – that is, if it got there at all, and wasn't launched into an unoccupied room, disposal chute, or worse, straight into the lap of the Duke whose name you had just excoriated in your latest analysis of inter-fort trade. Urist Zukun grimaced, and then proceeded to rise stiffly from his desk, evidence of the baggage from his military career carried with him to this day.

Prologue Pt. IV

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

He unhurriedly walked across the fur rug lying upon his stone floor to the chute at the opposite end of the room. A small alcove was carved out of the wall, with an unassuming basket beneath. Within the basket lay a rough wooden canister, and above that a small, black hole, where the tube snaked and wound itself through the confines of the fortress. He picked the canister up and walked back to his desk. When seated, he righted the capsule in his stubby, Dwarven fingers, and perused the runes carved into the wood. Capsules were reused, and new runes carved on top of and around older ones, with capsule finally being replaced when it a dwarf pronounced it full. This capsule was engraved with nearly countless messages, the outdated ones defaced with a single, carved, groove. Still, it did not make finding his message any easier, Urist mused. He finally found it, his stubby fingers running over a recent carving at the bottom. It read:


13th sub-settlement master


He drew a long sigh, and undid the clasp the help the lid. A thick roll of parchments slid from the tube, and landed upon his desk. 'Armok's Beard!' he hissed. He unfurled the scrolls one by one. Only seven - 3 requests by Blazegear's multitudinous nobles for royal settlements, and four proposals for garrison-establishment, warranted his attention. The others he could pass off to some unlucky Dwarf further down the crundle-chain. He left the 7 pertinent papers upon his desk, gathered up the other twenty-two, and fastened the cylinder. He produced the small pocket-chisel he kept upon his desk, scratched out the now-outdated rune, and put another in the only other blank spot he could find, addressing it only to the 'Left-Sub Under-scribe Branch' He then dropped the cylinder nonchalantly down the input hole for the pneumatic tubes which lay underneath his desk. It was someone else's job now, he thought. Armok alone knows how it will find its way down to the underscribe's branch, but the High Logistics Guild usually managed to ensure that message finds its way to its proper source. Especially the ones that you don't want. Little did he know that in those actions, he had put in motion events which would lead to the rise, and eventual fall, of one of the greatest fortresses of our age.

Prologue Pt. V

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Sub-Underscribe Dakan Livokvudthar shivered as he dozed lightly in his cold, bare office. The magma heating was down(again,) and he had only his threadbare yak skin coat to ward off the frigid air which seeped in under his door and through the innumerable cracks and leaks in the walls of his icy study, which also functioned as his frigid bedroom. He had just found himself with a temporary reprieve from his usually nigh-incessant parchment-filing when a canister flew out of the pneumatic tube outlay behind his desk and landed by his feet. He awoke from his stupor with a start. Groggily, he reached to the side and fumbled around in the dark around his desk leg until his hand met the canister. He brought it up on the desk, undid the clasp, and gently slid the parchments out. He lay them out upon his desk. 'Nearly a cycle of work', he grunted, as he readied his quill and ink.

Prologue Pt. VI

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Hours later, as his yak tallow candle was running low, the long hours finally got the best of Dakan. He was working on one of the final charts, having already approved the team the expedition leader had presented, and signed off on their supply requisition. Now all that was left to do was indicate their site - a temperate valley, guarded from enemies with by a mountain range, and the site was nestled in the midst of a dense forest. A perfect trading post, he mumbled to himself. It was as he stretched out his arm to indicate the spot to which they must embark that his crippling need for sleep finally caught up with Dakan, and he keeled over onto his desk, as still as a corpse. As he fell however, his hand had carved out a different spot for the newly-minted expedition. A spot in the midst of an scorching waste, surrounded by fell beasts and hostile bands of fel beings. Where dark minarets rose out of baked spires of rock and earth. That scrawl had sealed the fate of seven dwarves, and the many that would follow them.

[utilitarian]

The Site of Rakustobur- Tombhero


Prologue - Final

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

In the cavernous Hall of Travel, caravans were readying themselves as far as the eye could see. The hall smelt of musty animals, dung, sweat, dust and dirt. Yet there was also the rich aroma of roasting meat, as families ate their last meal together before departing through the great doors for the unknown. Only opened once a month to reduce the vulnerability of the fortress(the doors took hours to open and shut, the towering double doors were engraved with the saga of Blazegears itself, and its brave sons and daughter who each month took the daunting steps into the unknown. If you looked around on that particular day, your eyes might alight upon a particular caravan, worn from many travels. The expedition leader stewed, waiting impatiently for the final document that would allow the seven dwarves to take their final steps towards the unknown.

The Initial Seven

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Doren Cudisfath, the Expedition Leader


Kol Rigotthcatten, lumberdwarf, carpenter, mason, and architect


Litast Sobirzulban, axedwarf and head of the militia


Anderz, marksdwarve, hunter, and butcher


Urvad Azurdatob, miner


Zulban Rakustneth, metal, armor, and weaponsmith


Zuntir Zokunushat, miner

Entry I: Doren Cudisfath

Doren narrowed her eyes once again against the endless battery of the desert sand. The pig tail fibre coat she pulled up around her nose and mouth offered meagre protection against the stinging sand and wind, and helped even less with the harsh glare of Northern sun, and yet it was all she could do to prevent herself from hacking and wheezing from the continual inhalation of sand granules. Some of the tougher dwarves, such as Litast, initially attempted to prove their resilience by striding stoically forward through the sandstorms. Their bravado, however, was no match for Father Earth, and they soon, sputtering and gagging, mimicked their fellow dwarves by bundling spare clothing around their faces and staggering their gait directly behind the battered wagon.

Gadan's teats, she swore. Those goblins in Settlement have damned us all. Doren knew they had passed the ring-markers long ago– those hard, round stones which marked the edge of semi-civilized Dwarven territory. Out here, she were alone, and at the mercy of whichever foul denizens of this place chose to take an interest in them.
[OOC: Gadan is the Dwarf god of truth. She most often takes the form of female dwarf.

When suddenly, the wind stopped. One moment, the uncompromising wall of the sandstorm rose from the dunes in front of them, and the next, they suddenly were able to see clearly. Doren immediately saw why. Before them, an jagged wall of brown stone rose from the desert sand. It had sheltered the land from the desert here for millenia, allowing a small oasis to spring up, including a small stream which snaked its way through the sandy ground.

"Stop the wagon!" she grunted, and the dwarf who was holding the reins, whose appearance she could not recognize, pulled the yaks to a stop. I think this is as good as we're going to find, she muttered to herself.



The dwarves, anxious for the first rest in what had seemed like weeks, collapsed in various positions around the cart. They'll be into the ale next, Doren muttered. I had better get them moving

"Alright, you lot of mangy kobolds! If you don't want to end up resembling our friend here..." Doren pointed to the dessicated corpse of an unfortunate prior inhabitant. "I would suggest you get moving! Miners, with me. Rakust, see if you can't fetch us some fresh game. Everyone else, make camp. Take the wagon apart, move the goods, and clear those trees. You have 'til sundown. Get a move on it." She strode over to the miners. Picking up a nearby stick, she etched out a large square. "Dig down about 7 Urists," she said.



"Then," She pointed over to the stream. "Prepare a cistern. We don't know how hot it gets during the summer, and we need water for irrigation anyways." They nodded. She strode back towards the wagon. Doren would have a lot of work ahead of her.

By the end of the week, however, things were looking up. The dwarves had cleared away most of the trees, piling the lumber up next to the entrace the miners had carved. The goods had all been transferred dutifully(especially the alcohol), and with a stinking pile of refuse burgeoning in size, the foundations of the fort were being laid. Still no time to rest, thought Doren, as she perused the main stockpile. This stuff will be gone before we know it.



Likust was not without success in hunting either. The place was thick with large boar. Doren, leafing through her bestiary, soon recognized them as Mosswine.



They tended to frequent areas with more moisture, but she thought that perhaps a relic population could have been stranded here, and managed to survive. The mosswine turned out to be no match for Likust's crossbow.




Doren began making preparations for a butcher shop, so that the meat could be processed before it began to rot under the hot, desert, sun.


It would be the first of the industry they would bring to this blighted place.

[ansontan2000]

I like it. A request here; could you please dorf me as that hunter? Rename her as Anderz and make her the head of your first crossbow unit if she survives.

[kingfisher1112]

I've never played these mods before. Could you provide links?
I'll take second turn.

[utilitarian]

I'm just leaving for school now, but I'll take care of all of this.

[nginferno]

Pretty interesting mods... I'd want a turn, but i am very inexperienced, so maybe dorf me as a future immigrant named as Inferno and train him/her as a hammerdwarf. I liked hammers in MH

[utilitarian]

Entry II.

Anderz's Hunt:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Anderz lay prone in the cool sand of the shade. The dusty smell of plants which had long since died and dried away filled her nostrils, mixing with the aroma of the moist soil which she had disturbed whilst getting into position.

She had waited long enough since her last, failed, shot had startled a herd of mosswine away from her hiding spot. Her hunter's intuition told her that the the oasis had settled down once again. She carefully slid a new bolt into the groove of her crossbow, brought it up to her eyes and peered down the primitive sights she had affixed to the end. She then pushed the bush which she had hidden herself behind with her other hand, stabilizing the crossbow against her shoulder.

Before her a herd of huge rodents foraged amongst the low-growing shrubs. They had seen them earlier that week, but the herd had spooked and run off into the trees which lined the more fertile areas of the oasis. 'Capybaras', she thought Doren had called them. Strange name for an overgrown rat, she thought. She wormed her way forward on her elbows and knees, so that her upper body protruded from the bush. She removed the quiver from her side and lay it out beside her, well within reach. Then, she narrowed her sights and observed the herd. One of the capybaras strayed close. It was plump and heavy-set, with a visible layer of fat underneath its fur. Anderz slowly moved her finger up and pulled the trigger.


The first bolt flew out, striking the beast between its ribs and burying itself in its guts in a spray of blood. The beast let loose an harsh shriek and attempted to flee with the rest of its herd, now bolting towards the tree line.

She wouldn't let that happen.

Her hand darted out to her side, deftly grabbing another bolt and jammed it in the groove. She winded back the crank, and, seemingly in a single motion, looked down the sites, letting another bolt fly. This one smashed into the beast's right rear leg, rending through flesh and ligaments, shattering the femur. The creature let out another whine as it crashed to the floor. It began to disgorge itself, the vomit mingling with the blood. Eventually, the pain grew too much for the massive rodent, and it slipped into unconsciousness.

Anderz picked up her crossbow and quiver, and began making towards the body. She fastened the quiver to her belt, neglecting to load another bolt. It looks as if I managed with two, she thought. However, as she had passed half the distance between herself and her quarry, it shakily rose on her feet, its exposed viscera streaming blood. She pursed her lips. I really need to improve my aim,She thought. Silently loading her crossbow, she aimed true, and put the beast out of its misery with a single bolt to the head.
v

Anderz appeared back in camp, drenched with sweat and blood, dragging the carcass behind her. With one motion, she heaved it up onto the slab in the make-shift butcher's shop that had been erected by the stockpile. She took a swig of ale from nearest keg, restocked her quiver with the last of the bronze bolts, and then turned sharply on her heel and casually began walking out of camp, leaving the capybara behind.

Doren looked up from her work. She had been supervising the tunneling of a temporary cistern, making sure none of her miners ended up trapped in their own channels.  She looked up to see Anderz already nearly outside the boundaries of their camp, her kill left unbutchered.

"Anderz!" she hollered. "What in Armok's name do you think you're doing! You serve as our camp's butcher, as well as huntress. Get back here and clean your kill."

"The herd is leaving, Doren. And I'm the only dwarf here able to hit the near side of a mountain with this thing." She laughed haughtily. "Get some clod to pull it apart. It's not as if it's particularly difficult." Her eyes scanned the camp. "There, that oaf isn't doing anything important." She gestured with her crossbow to Zulban, the metalsmith. Zulban was sitting by the food stockpile, alone, and looked up morosely when she heard her name.

 "She'll pick up the ropes quickly, if she's not too thick." Anderz laughed again. Then she slowly turned around and sauntered out the camp.

Doren grumbled to herself. I'll deal with her later. Her head snapped to the metalsmith. "It looks like you're our butcher for now." Zulban stammered "But, I.. I'm a metals-" "Get on it!" Doren snapped. "I don't need two mutineers." She stormed back to the miners, leaving Zulban to deal with her newly bestowed labour. The corpse was beginning to draw flies. She sighed, picked up a cleaver, and got to work.

Doren Cudisfah

Doren had a plan. While she had picked her site in accordance with the Tome of Delving, that musty volume with which all expedition leaders are presented with, she was unsatisfied. She couldn't fathom any reason to cope with the stringent guidelines of that dated manuscript, that favourite tool of incompetent Kings and Barons across the Dwarven realms. No, she decided, Doren Cudisfah would not abide by its decrees. She would construct a monument to Dwarfdom, an edifice of stone and mortar which would tower above these forsaken plains. She sat upon a keg of ale and crudely sketched out some rough plans.

Above ground, the tower will hold the Nobles' quarters, a private dining hall, the militia barracks, and the weapon, armor and siege stock piles.

Around it, but within the wall, will lie the above ground farms, the butcher, the cook, the tanner, the bone carver, and whatever other industries depend upon refuse. The farms will lie on the next level.

Below that, the great hall will be constructed. It will be connected to the food stockpile, and the brewery. On the other wing will lie Tombhero's main industry. Below that will lie the main stockpile, and somewhere below that forge complex.

In the meantime, this camp will have to do. We'll shelter here while we begin construction on Tombhero proper.

She nodded with satisfaction. Now to get this camp up and running. She started with designating a mason's workshop, mechanics's workshop, and a craftdwarf's workshop set up.



She'd make Tombhero yet.


(OOC: Doren's outlined the general plan for things. I'll post something more substantive(in terms of in-game achievement) tomorrow night.)

[utilitarian]

Entry III:
Tragedy on the Wing


Doren Cudisfah

Doren looked over the work she had accomplished. Not very Armok-damned much she muttered, biting her lip. The incessant glare of the harsh sun made working above ground slow, furthering the time it took to complete even the simplest of tasks. With that in mind, she reasoned, perhaps their efforts were less pathetic.

Abandoning their old site, Doren had selected a more appropriate location for the construction with which she would soon be struggling. It was close enough to the river so as to have easy access for irrigation, but far enough away that it would not encroach upon her fortress's expansion.



A few days had passed. Felsite was nearly expired, and the summer neared. We haven't done all that badly, Doren mused. Better than I'd expected anyway. The ale stores, while still lacking any new source of supplies, were enough to hold out until the farms were underway. The seven of them had ample food, their original stocks supplement by Anderz's hunting, and the low-growing plants foraged from around the camp. The old camp was slowly being dismantled, and their was now a burgeoning stockpile by the entrance to their new home. I best get everything underground soon. She thought. I don't know what the heat will do to them. She surveyed the camp. I wonder how our miners are doing. If those idiots have almost breached a pool again I SWEAR I'll- Doren was interrupted from her thoughts by Kol Rigòthcatten, the camp's lumberdwarf, carpenter, and architect.

Kol Rigòthcatten

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"Leader!" she cried out, panting and out of breath. "You must come quickly!" Doren gave the dwarf a quizzical look. Besides minor personal squabbles, the camp had been pretty peaceful. She wondered if she was being tricked. Doren hated being tricked. However, there was something in the lumberdwarf's manner that convinced Doren of her urgency.

"Yes, Kol? What has disturbed you from your labour?". Kol's eyes looked around wildy in panic. She was clearly distressed. "There isn't any time, Overseer! They were coming this way!" Doren's interest was piqued. "They? Show me."


Kol took the Overseer up to the site of her work. A tree lay half-felled, and the air still hung with the heavy aromas of sap and freshly broken wood. She walked up a small hill, so that they were overlooking the river where the ground began to slope upwards below.. "There!" She said.

Doren recognised them instantly from her studies in her bestiary. Vespoids! She hissed. She watched as the swarm slowly buzzed towards them, hovering and shimmering in the desert air. What odd creatures...

The majority of them looked like great flies, crossed with a particularly menacing wasp.


However, in their host flew also several fat Queens. They were a great deal larger than their surrounding minions, and their perversely bloated bodies exuded an insectoid menace. Both varieties packed a deadly sting.





What queer creatures... Beautiful in a way, really...





Doren snapped to attention. Moldath's guts!, she cursed. Now was no time for idle comtemplation. Harshly grabbing Kol's shoulder, she shoved her towards camp. "GET MOVING!" she roared, pushing them both into a sprint. They both emerged from the stand of trees, arms waving. "Dwarves, to my side!" Doren shouted, now out of breath. She needed to think quickly. If the vespoids had spotted them, they would be upon the camp in minutes. She thought hurriedly for a place to hide, quickly deciding upon the old campsite. It was close, and had a large space dug out which she had originally intended for farming.


"Everyone, get back to the old camp and go below ground! I'll explain later! Take the animals too. NOW!" The camp briefly plunged into chaos, but soon nearly everyone had abandoned their works and tools and were streaming towards the abandoned stairwell. It was almost too late for one straggler, who still tarried as the vespoids carapace-clad bodies began to hover over their heads, but at Doren's urging, the lagging dwarf managed to make haste with the others to the makeshift shelter.


(OOC: The vespoids are the 'V's)

The dwarves sat about the damp room, originally intended for a farm. Most had a expression of vague relief; all apart form Doren looked confused. The overseer cleared her throat. All attention was on her "If anyone is still in doubt was to why we're currently down here- we've been attacked." Terse mutterings of shock passed between those who had not witnessed the beasts. "Vespoids. Glorified honeybees, really. Still, to a fortress of our size, they pose a threat. We're safe so long was as we stay down here. We'll just have to wait it out, but at least we'll be together." She attempted a weak smile.

The awkward silence was broken by Zuntir Zokunast. A wiry, nearly senile old miner and the group's only male, he was profane in his conversation and near-universally unliked. "Behspoids, eh?" His snaggle-toothed mouth and accent frequently obscured his speech. "Ef' seen behspoids once. Get a stinger on dem 'il slice a dwarf arse to 'ead! An' a benom to melt up anyfing in between in a bwink of yer eye! Ye woon't citch me goin up der again!" "Shut up, Zuntir" Doren snapped. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were frightened of honeybees too." The rest of the dwarves chuckled. Easy conversation began to break out amongst the dwarves, and normalcy began to creep back in. The threat seemed more distant by the minute.

Doren strode across the room to where Anderz and Litast were talking. They both stopped when they saw here approach. "Ladies, I didn't think I'd have to be doing this so early, but there is no sense in avoiding it now. We need a militia". She turned to the dwarf nearest her. "Likust, you'll take overall command." She nodded. Her gaze shifted to the hunter to her right. "Anderz, you'll take command of the first crossbow squad. May your bolts fly true." "It's an honour, overseer." "I might be be needing the both of you in an hour or two. Make any preparations you will need to operate effectively." The two dwarves immediately resumed their conversation as the overseer drew away.

Doren removed her head from the passage for the tenth time that hour. She still, as hard as she tried, could not see a sign of the vespoids. And as much as she strained her hearing, she could not hear the buzz of their wings. She was finally forced to accept their safety. "Alright everyone, all clear! Your break is over- time to catch up on your missed work!". The tone of the dwarves was jovial as they emerged from the stairway and resumed their labours. The experience had brought them closer; solidified them as a unit. The newly-chosen members of Tombhero's military were the last to emerge, and Doren stopped them. "I have an initial assignment for Tombhero's finest. Take point over there" She pointed towards the centre of the Dwarf camp. "Take up station. I won't be surprised by the vespoids again." Doren turned and began to trudge back towards the camp.


Anderz was proud of her new role. Fitting that she would lead Tombhero's first marksdwarf squad- after all, she thought, her abilities were unparalled amongst her fellow dwarves. She took point, surveying the land for interlopers. Not seeing the creatures the first time - she had made for the burrow immediately at Doren's urging - she did not really know what to look for. But her keen hunter's eyes were returning nothing at all - the land was still. After an hour of this, she began to get impatient. Likast stood, just as staid as before, steadily regarding the other side of the encampment. Soon Anderz didn't take it anymore. Surely Doren wouldn't mind if I did some reconnaissance, she thought. Slinging her crossbow over her shoulder, she quietly slunk off. Navigating the trees and shrubs, she soon found herself at the top of a tall hill, overlooking the camp. From here, her vantage point allowed her to see the lay of the land for miles around. Peering out over the plains, however it still looked as if they were al - no! There they are! She said with a grin. Her happiness was interrupted by an increasingly loud buzzing from behind her.


Two things happened in the next few seconds. Firstly, Anderz saw the vespoid queen flying at her, full of animalistic rage, and second, she reached into her quiver only to find she had not brought any bolts.


The buzzing was almost unbearable when it was upon her, rushing at her like an obscenely overgrown wasp. It first jabbed with its cruel, barbed stinger. Anderz flew to one side, turning a savage impalement into a glancing blow. The beast's jaws snapped at her, but again she managed to dodge out of the way. Now it was her turn. Raising her crossbow like a cudgel, she slammed it into the creature's legs, smashing one of them irreparably. The vespoid backed up, then flew again directly at Anderz, tangling her up in its limbs and sending them both rolling down the hill. They crashed into a thicket in the bottom, rolling in the dust and sand. Anderz's tried to right herself, but the vespoid now had the upper hand, enabled by its large body and keen instincts. It quickly righted itself above her, attempting to plunge its stinger deep into her flesh. In her squirming, she was able to turn its first series of jabs into merely glancing blows, and seeing an opening, rolled out from under it.

Anderz wouldn't let the opportunity go to waste. Howling savagely, she dove forward, gnashing one of the creature's legs in her jaws. The chitin crunched underneath the might of the dwarven teeth, leaving the creature now with two useless appendages. The creature darted away from her grasp, but she would not let up her onslaught. Possessed with a fiery rage, she ran at the insect, swinging her crossbow with abandon. Charged with emotion, Anderz screamed as the injured queen evaded her first series of blows. She readied to lunge raising her crossbow, now stained with blood and ichor, above her head. Yet, she never got the chance. In her bloodlust, the approach of one of the queens drones, drawn by her pheromones, had gone unnoticed. That paused was all it needed to tear its black, savage stinger straight into her head from behind.





 It smashed out the other side through her jaw, spraying foul, sizzling poison across her body. It, coupled with the pain, acted quickly, and Anderz immediately lost grib of her crossbow and keeled over into the dirt.


Her body, now paralyzed, was wracked with tremors as the vespoids stabbed into it again and again, injecting her again and again with the foul poison. The pain was excruciating, yet she let loose no scream, her jaw locked firmly in place, chattering with spasms. The creatures began to tear and bite at her body, before the queen finallly ended her life by inserting her stinger directly through the top of Anderz's skull.


Doren saw the swarm flitting over the hill, barreling down upon the camp. She began hollering immediately. "They're back! Everyone inside!" The dwarfs ran as fast their legs could carry them to the narrow staircase, shooting downwards into the safety of the cavern. There was no joking this time, as most dwarves sat by themselves, shocked at yet another attack. Litast approached Doren with a concerned look on her face. "Yes, Commander?" Doren addressed her by her new title. "It's Anderz, Doren. No one's seen here." A frown briefly crossed the overseer's face. "Wasn't she at her post with you?" Litast shook her head. "I had already been looking for her when you started screaming." "Well," Doren Said, "I wouldn't worry about it." She beamed. "She probably went to squeeze a few shots off at the bugs. And Armok knows that if any of us could manage alone, she could." Litast nodded. "I guess you're right. I only hope she turns up soon."



[Caption]: The Camp, one z-level above: the vespoids swarm

(OOC: This is the first of these I've done, so your input is invited. Am I writing too much? Should I  it? More/less screenshots?)

[nginferno]

personally, i think you're doing pretty good. Only thing i didnt expect was the sheer brutality of mere vespoids...

edit: Btw i just checked the MH mod thread. So gunlances are available huh... But how exactly do they work? Is it a separate Shield+ gunlance or is it a two handed?

[ansontan2000]

Fuck.
I would like to ask for a redorf, named Anderz II. Both male and female are fine. He/she will immigrate and is Anderz' twin. He/she will retake control of the marksdorf squad. ANDERZ FOREVER!

[utilitarian]

Fuck.
I would like to ask for a redorf, named Anderz II. Both male and female are fine. He/she will immigrate and is Anderz' twin. He/she will retake control of the marksdorf squad. ANDERZ FOREVER!

Well, shit. This is about how I feel right now.


I accidentally abandoned the fort. I'm not sure what I was thinking, but I was quitting the game and somehow ended up abandoning I it instead. I'm going to make another one and just try to power through the first turn tonight. Gah, and things were just starting to get interesting too. I'll put a link in this post when I create the new thread, but I guess it then should be closed.

Kingfisher, I'll assume you're fine at being added to the overseer's list? I'll dwarf a new Anderz from the original seven.

[nginferno]

Well, I need a "tiny" bit of help trying to install both of the mods and I've also pm'd you sooooo...
HELP PLEASE!

[utilitarian]

Due to previously mentioned embarrassments, this thread is now locked.

The story continues here.
http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=97173.0