Background:
This fort started as a simple exercise: I'd see how many different skills I could get a single dorf to legendary in, having him do all the skilled labor for the fort. Other dorfs can haul etc. but aren't allowed to train anything except social skills (although I'm not ruling out suicide mining assignments for them); they can serve in the military, but can't spar for experience. I wasn't planning on making a story of it but the results have been proving somewhat amusing so I figured I'd write it up.
I'm 8 or 9 years in, so I'm writing this from notes taken during gameplay. It'll probably take me a while to catch up though.
Journal of Kol Hammershields, 12th Moonstone 62:Word has arrived from Shieldluster: the Queen tires of her castle and has commanded the establishment of a new Mountainhome. Finally, a task worthy of my great skill! Admittedly I have no experience in mining, architecture, masonry, mechanics, or carpentry--but never mind! Quickly I set out to Shieldluster to volunteer my services.
17th Moonstone 62:The Queen is impressed by my proposal, probably because it artfully neglected to mention that I have no training in any trade which could be remotely useful in erecting a great dwarven hall. No matter. I manage to convince her that I am a great hunter and get a crossbow and some hunting gear out of the deal. Now that I have my commission I'll figure out this whole construction business I guess.
3rd Opal 62:Apparently she wasn't the only one that was impressed. I've already attracted half a dozen hangers-on. From what I can tell none of them have any skills in construction, which makes them marginally less qualified to build a Mountainhome from scratch than I am, but they all seem eager to get in on the ground floor of the empire's new capital site.
Magnamin...
magnamoniou...
magnaninomio I decide to be really freaking nice and let them tag along anyhow. Especially that hottie Rovod. Man, check out the beard on HER!
1st Granite 63:
We've arrived! Drawing on my genius for naming (surpassed only by my genius for everything else) I declare that we shall henceforth be dwelling in the mighty halls of Dwellhalls. Urist Channelyears calls this name "unoriginal". Prick. It's not unoriginal, it's classic! And classy. Yeah.
Screw him. I set to work building our new home. Strike the earth!
5th Granite 63:
It is completed. Behold!

Sodel Shankbridge points out that it's just a bunch of cots under a crude wooden lean-to. These guys seemed a lot less dickish before I led them into the unforgiving wilderness promising to build them a grand palace. I tell them that this is merely temporary shelter while I build the
real Mountainhome. I figure that should buy me some time, so I sneak off to my "office" (cleverly built on
the other side of the peak from their cots, away from their prying eyes) and "plan". I uh don't have the slightest clue how to scribe blueprints or anything though. To pass the time I take to counting our supplies repeatedly under the pretense of actually working.
11th Slate 63:
Still no ideas comin. I got a
really good count of our supplies though. Like,
really good.
This would probably be more impressive if it weren't for the fact that I still have the manifesto showing an exact count of all the supplies we brought.
15th Slate 63:
I guess I was wrong when I said this lot had no skills. Apparently they are all Legendary Pains-in-the-Asses (Rovod excepted). This Fath Atticnotches bloke is managing to be an even
bigger pain than the others. Seems he doesn't get along with any of them, but he chooses to hang out with them and get more and more annoyed. I pointed out there's a big bloody mountain all around us, but he still has to pick the exact same spot to hang about as them. And now he's whining at me about it!
There's a great big chasm to the southeast, so I declare Fath the official Giant Cave Spider Inspector and tell him to go investigate.
20th Slate 63:
Fath returns. This is doubly disappointing since 1. we have no giant cave spider silk to offer the Queen and 2. we still have Fath. I dress Fath down and tell him to look harder.
7th Hematite 63:
I am getting really super awesome at counting our supplies. Unfortunately my well-honed counting skills are telling me that our stock of food is going
down. This is problematic.
The east side of our peak isn't as rocky as the rest of it, so I scratch out a sandy plot and bury a few plump helmet spawn. That's how it works, isn't it? Guess we'll find out.
12th Hematite 63:
While "tending" to our crops (a process which mostly consists of staring at the dirt for lack of any actual farming ability) I notice some really annoying sounds in the air. It seems that big ol pit is infested with cave swallowmen. I promote Fath to scarecrow and post him at the edge of the hill to spook them away.
15th Hematite 63:
After failing to drive the swallowmen away I let Fath take the crossbow; hell, it's not like I know how to work it. This works better. I was pretty leery about giving a disgruntled subordinate a deadly weapon, but he seems to have cheered up considerably since I posted him to chasm duty. Weird bugger.
23rd Malachite 63:
Fath is whining that he's out of bolts. Normally this wouldn't bother me except the cave swallowmen are coming back. Luckily they're all a bunch of slobs and they've left the cast-off remains of their meals all over the floor of the
lean-to fortress. I manage to whittle some turtle bones into something vaguely resembling bolts. Fath is
happy slightly less depressed.
25th Malachite 63:
We're supposed to be getting a caravan to check up on us in a few months, so while I'm at it I carve the turtle shells into some crafts so we'll have something to show. Urist is dubious. "I don't think they're going to be impressed by some turtle shell fragments." Prick.
13th Galena 63:
The others are duly unimpressed by my superdwarvenly counting abilities. Rather than admit that I'm barely certain which end of a pick is the business end, I claim that my months of "work" in the office have left me soft (although strangely I feel more fit than ever) and that I need training to get back into shape before getting to work proper.
3rd Limestone 63:
I've managed to cobble together some kind of screw mechanism. I vaguely recall have seen something like it once in a pump station. The others are starting to pressure me to show some results so I tell them it's for the moat. Urist points out that we have no moat and that the only digging I've done is etching out a half-assed plot in the side of the peak. Can you believe this guy? I yell at him for his appalling lack of foresight. This seems to get the others to back off. Meanwhile I practice running the screw pump, claiming I need the exercise.
20th Limestone 63:
The caravan has arrived. I think Urist was probably right about the shell crafts, come to mention it. Their wagons are full of the same kind of junk anyhow though, so no big loss. They don't have anything worth trading for, but I do manage to barter the shell
crap crafts to a couple of the guards in exchange for their lunch.
18th Sandstone 63:
This is bad. We're almost out of booze. I was kind of hoping the caravan would bring some booze. I was thinking we could at least jump them for their personal supply. You'd think they'd at least issue booze rations for the guards, right? Apparently they must make them drink water. I wonder how bad you gotta screw up to get THAT job.
Since I am nominally a great outdoorsdwarf I volunteer to head into the valley to gather plants to brew. If nothing else this means that I am far away from the others when they discover they're out of booze.
11th Moonstone 63:
I have discovered approximately 23 different varieties of grass that cannot be brewed into alcohol and one that can. Unfortunately it's not easy finding the one that can. I've managed to extract some seed-looking things from the few clumps of it I've gathered and plant them in the ground. With luck this means that more of it will grow, if I understand how this farming business works. It's working for the underground plants at least.
28th Moonstone 63:
Fath is starting to get bored of standing out in the rain shooting swallowmen and stray wolves, so I relieve him from his post. Most of the swallowmen have been scared good and far away by now.
17th Opal 63:
Fath wastes no time remembering how much he loathes everyone else and soon works himself into a temper tantrum. He smashes
one of half the chairs in our dining hall. That dick! Now everyone is wanting me to share my private table. I order him back to his post.
26th Opal 63:
Fath seems to have cheered up a bit from standing around taking potshots at swallowmen. Fath creeps me out sometimes.
Year end summary 63: Kol is up to Legendary Record Keeper. Currently training Pump Operator. Next year: productivity maybe?