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Fath smiled a hopeless smile as he stood before the glass walls. Time seemed to slow around him and a concentrated silence emerged within the dwarven defenders as the demons continued to crash the gates in front of them. The juxtaposition between the raging cacophony outside and the sudden stillness inside had an eerie impacted atmosphere of importance that was peculiar in its uncertainty. All dwarven eyes turned to Fath standing silently at the artifact door, back slightly hunched with a burden that ignored physical age but listened to an emotional one.

Slowly the dwarves defending the walls stopped what they were doing and turned towards him with a frightened expectation. Surely there was nothing he could do on his own to turn back the demon army. In their heart of hearts they had realized what the demons possessed: a will and lifespan to outlast them. It didn’t mean they would give up, but facing an enemy that time cannot defeat becomes increasingly futile. The knowledge of this would weigh down any combatant, increments of sand that slowly buries the determined and talented in a grave of consistent inevitability. The depth of the grave never matters and neither do the contents after a while.

The weight of Fath’s heart dragged behind him as he forced himself towards the battle. He had come to hate war and would rather see the world live harmoniously, but that was never an option here - Archcrystal, a monument that spat in the face of inevitable time while time simply nodded and smiled knowingly. But Fath knew that moments like this were why he lived, why anyone did, as they condensed the immense design of things into what mattered, or at least split what had to matter and what ultimately must not. He wondered if he had the will to do what he ultimately must. This was not hell, Fath thought, hell is made by minds and hearts who know compassion and charity but choose to bring misery and suffering. There would be no misery like that which he could bring, and it was a choice to do so despite knowing and feeling the opposite. It was a curse that was cruel and viscous by the decision to do it in spite of the sympathy and grace that could be given otherwise.

As Fath raised his hand to shudder the dead to animate another hand grasped his wrist. Surprised, he slowly turned his head to see who would defy him, his ego driving a self imposed status to wonder what dared to disturb his moment that he had forced himself to believe was inevitable and profound.
It was Meng the catatonic and insane apprentice of Edzul the great late mathematician. Years before she had attempted to compile all of Edzul Ironsword’s teachings into a codex. Shortly after starting her work she was found sitting on the floor of the library staring off into space unblinking and unspeaking. They placed her into a cell where they fed and cared for her, thinking that she may never speak again - until now.


“No” she forced out as she clutched Fath’s wrist. It was the first word she had spoken in years and it carried a weight despite its mouse-like pitch. “No” she repeated and her eyes focused this time instead of looking through him at some imaginary point miles away. Fath recoiled reflexively and looked on her as anyone else did. The absence of kindness was burning bright in his state but her urgency made him stop.
“No” she repeated again and again and tilted her head. Fath paused for long enough to consider her meaning for the first explosion to pierce his ears. Mine carts filled with lead coins dropped from their newly finished settings to travel at break neck speeds and then come to a sudden stop at the fortifications releasing their deadly cargo into the demonic assembly who stared at it with unknowing comprehension.


The missiles they had created tore through everything in front of them, whether they spit, webbed, or breathed fire. There’s no other sound like a demon from hell screaming for its life as it is ripped apart by projectiles travelling at a thousand meters per second. Pieces of their flesh exploded off them as they writhed back and forth during the infinite rain of metal bullets that blew apart the slade walls behind them. Piercing and melodic, the demonic cries of agony split the stale air of the underworld as the dwarves prepared to fire the collective hearts of their ancestral labour forth into them - a weapon born of their industry and passion and profound history. While the demons had learned patience from the dwarves, the dwarves had learned to pour their malice into the technological terrors they invented, and while it would have reciprocal effects far in the future, the dwarves of Archcrystal yet again held the acme of delivering efficient and horrifying death and destruction to their enemies.
The demons attempted to counter attack by holding the dead bodies of their fallen up as shields as they again rushed the entrance en mass. But the large groups they clustered in made perfect targets for the arrays of hundreds of lead ammunition that fired continuously into them without discrimination. The repeated mechanisms of the mine carts ensured a steady rhythm of casualty and fatality, and the torn sinew and muscle of those invaders caught in their metal kill zone emitted from the fortifications without reprieve. Steady streams of targets continued to march forth from their ranks but were mowed down by the physics of dwarven automation that exploded from the glass ramparts, reliable in its constant and unrelenting drumbeat of mechanical death. The new masters of Hell were cold and metallic, and the fear of fire and brimstone were rendered obsolete.

An hour later the battlefield in front of Archcrystal lay silent, the smoking ruins of the dead demons, counted by the thousands, were an inspiring and horrible reminder that the meaning of hell had changed forever - from a monstrous population of demonic creatures into a callous race of mortals who could care, but decided not to.

***



Sultrangris had packed his meager belongings and was ready for his long journey to Archcrystal. The neighbouring elves were constantly harassing his local hillocks and he had finally had enough. The elves justified their raids by saying that the war machine of Archcrystal was destroying the land in its constant reach outwards for territory. But it was the same “land” that nearly killed his ancestors with beasts, and poisonous plants, and infectious diseases until they had finally carved out a small home in the hills. He had decided that the ambivalent land deserved its reckoning. Let the war machine scorch the unforgiving plants and animals, he preferred to live underground anyways. Sultangris started walking and made sure to step on any flowers he could.

***


Euler was tired of being conscripted into the military to defend his dwarven fortress of Questedceiling. A scholar at heart he yearned to discuss and study mathematics and he knew that most of the literature on the subject came from the capital of Archcrystal, now the political, intellectual, and geographical Center of the world. Copies of Edzul Ironsword’s glass codexes had made their way to his fortress and he was ravenous to read more. Living in hell did not scare him as long as there were books to read. So he began his journey to the crystal spire full of hope and ambition, with his sights set on unlocking the secrets of the world.

***


Gitzo the local sheriff ran a tight ship at his fortress of Tinbucks, to put it lightly. He felt that he understood that order was the purest form of existence and that cruelty was the purest form of order, so much so that his punishments were terrible and quick. But he also felt that his methods were unappreciated here. He had heard stories of the famous sheriff of Archcrystal, Doren Lashgrooved, and he made the decision to immigrate. He packed his steel whip and other instruments of justice and set out alone to join the fortress guard. He fantasized of torturing horrible truths out of a demon and this gave him an exhilarating bounce to his step as he traveled.

((Just a quick note before I finish the chapter. If anyone else wants a named migrant dwarf for the finale, I’ll be writing them in over the next couple of weeks as they travel from the corners of the world to Archcrystal.))

Thank you! I’ve been slowly plodding through the years, but it’s been slower because the equipment bug that causes the game to crash every once in a while. Still reaching year 475 soon and I’ll post the story bits then, but I’ve had to change a few of the narratives that I had in mind because dwarf fortress things keep happening 😁

Ok here's a PDF of the story so far. I've written some new chapters, and edited most of the others and cropped all of the pictures properly. It took waaaay longer than I thought it would. And sorry in advance for some of the page breaks, I'm still learning how to functionally edit the page formats.

http://dffd.bay12games.com/file.php?id=14325

That was a lot of death.

Hey mate, brilliant fort you have here.

I've one question:

Having battled with and overcome various updates and their quirks, what can you recommend as the best methods of dealing with stressed out dwarves? Were there some which had better success than others?

Looking forward to the big 500!!

Thanks!

Stressed out dwarves in 44.12 are inevitable even with a maximum amount of creature comforts like fine meals, furniture, waterfalls, etc. And if a dwarf sees a dead body and then suddenly gets a trait that makes them "a nervous wreck" or similar to where they can't handle stress, then that dwarf is basically screwed. At that point I just wait until they either get so depressed that they die of thirst, or insane enough to commit a crime, then the fortress guard (who are surprisingly efficient at punching people in the upper spine) kill them with a beating.

Getting them to do creative things helps, like engraving and decorating. But the only way to make "a nervous wreck" dwarf recover from stress is if they get married and have kids, which right now you have to set up pre-honeymoon suites with a temp tavern in the middle for them to socialize in, and lock them in there for about a year. But that's a time consuming fix, and most of the time i just let the stressed out ones die. Occasionally, they will recover, if the nervous wreck trait gets replaced but that's pretty seldom too.

Last I checked I didn’t see any in legends expect the necromancer books from the towers. I also haven’t had any scholars migrate to the fortress yet so I think maybe because there’s no other libraries in the world that they just have no where to study and write.

I love the way it handles history and continuity. I haven’t written very much since college but DF inspired me to write it about it, which is very rewarding. Also, I have young kids so I like a game that I don’t have to be “playing” the whole time and I can walk away from while it’s still running.

Edzul Ironsword was about to die. The legendary mathematician of Archcrystal lay in the glass hospital within Hell and received the visits by his loved ones until there was no one present besides the doctors - and Fath.


Edzul was confused by his impending death. He didn’t understand it. From a logical point of view he did not have to die. Whatever traits he could pass on to his children wouldn’t be degraded if he continued to live. He still had contributions to make to his field of study. He tried to convince himself that the order of things demanded that everything renew itself, but he still couldn’t reason past the flaws of having a mind such as his fail because of a body that can’t keep up.

Was it pride? Was it his own stupidity compared with, as Fath would say, the immense design of things? As smart as he was compared to his time, the lasting question that haunted him was this:

Is his intelligence even worthwhile compared with what could be known? That question seemed juvenile to him yet he couldn’t dispute its relevance.

It was staggering to him to think that in a century, other scholars would make discoveries far surpassing anything he could begin. And yet, it was inevitable. Edzul felt envy like he’d never felt before and he hated it. And worse, he hated the regret that all of this came with, a selfish pandering of his own perceived worth.

Fath sensed this as he kneeled gently beside his long time friends bedside.

Edzul’s voice was raspy and slow as he spoke, much like the misshapen collection of words that came out of it.

“There’s no destiny for you here... there’s none for any of us. All of our ancestors will be forgotten as you will be - as I will be. All of my work will contribute to a dying project, one that is not destroyed by the infinite time which you prescribe to, but by the walls that contain it. Stupid, stupid, stupid pride! I’ve wished for it to listen to my reason, but it can’t. It knows no such sentiment. Above all of this rambling, listen to me...”

Edzul coughed and sputtered until his lungs were wracked with pain. The doctors were already bringing over sheets to lay over his lifeless face when Fath waved them off and leant closely with his ear pressed towards Edzul’s lips. Edzul whispered sharply,

“You won’t become the singularity within the void, don’t even try.”

Fath looked downwards then up towards Edzul’s glassy eyes, “What if I can?”

“You won’t.”

And Edzul, the great mathematician of his time, exhaled his last breath with those words and passed into a blueprint of life that was not his own - one that he saw as corrupt and unfair.


With all of the rage of an adolescent teen raging against adults, Edzul passed unceremoniously into death, still convinced of his importance despite a knowledge of its intellectual insignificance. In the end he couldn’t help feeling that which he would have ridiculed in others for the same behavior. His last emotion ended up being one of regret.

In a perfect world, these thoughts and desires would have died with him, and his legacy would have been simply of a great scientist whose mind had been disrupted by sickness and old age - if it were not for Fath who resonated with Edzul’s final thoughts. His wisdom had mixed so much with his pride that it was difficult for anyone to separate the two. So Fath accepted these final moments as reason. Edzul was, after all, the last of Fath’s childhood friends and easily the closest of these. Fath had a good memory, and a part of him that was still mortal longed for the days when life between them was a series of toys and games. The toys were weapons now, and the games were deadly. Both held the desires of a person that can’t be reached anymore.

The fortress of Archcrystal continued to expand in hell down from its entrance, less like a virus now and more like a dead animal bleeding out glass walls and floors from a hook downwards to the ground.



It spread continuously and relentlessly with a steadied pace that began to worry the demons until there appeared something never before seen in their history, such as it was.

Great columns of them flowed across the pits and plains of slade. Their numbers were seemingly infinite and small skirmishes broke out with the ones that had organized and the ones that hadn’t - the ones that hadn’t didn’t last long. It was a force that stood at the gates of the dwarven invaders that had never been formed before. It was controlled and steady like the rhythm of an ancient and forgotten heart that had compensated for an atrophied exercise. They surrounded the bottom of Archcrystal completely and stared through the glass structure before them. It was a malevolent gaze tinged with awe, but focused against the scurrying creators inside.

Erith the captain of the guard looked upon the mass assembled outside and ordered his guard to take position behind their fortifications.


The demons were shredded with bolts until no more advanced and the majority of the horde stood beyond their reach, waiting and planning. For a while no one moved besides the flutter of a wing or the aim adjustment of a crossbow. Then the invading horde rushed the artifact door. The collective force shook the foundations of the fortress as the indestructible door remained unblemished, but the connective architecture that held it to the glass walls strained audibly under the sheer force of a functionally infinite number of attackers. The sounds of the glass under so much pressure echoed through hell like massive glacier beginning to crack far below its surface.

More wickedly barbed projectiles tore through the immense bodies crashing the entrance.


The sheer mass of tissue, bone and muscle created an effective barrier no matter what material it was composed of, and glass makers and masons quickly reinforced its support on the other side. It was a war of manufactured attrition now, as both sides set against each other working to undo the other’s efforts. After several hours it was clear that there would be no clear winner and the demons again receded to their ranks beyond the eerie glowing pits, but they stood in rank unlike anything the dwarves had ever seen. They waited with narrowed eyes wondering what the demons were thinking when suddenly the glass walls shook like an earthquake. Projectiles of all kinds smashed against the entrance - acid, poison, fire, webbing, poisonous acidic webs on fire. There was no end to the constant barrage of organic bullets that pelted the fortress. If it was one thing that the demons had learned from the dwarves of Archcrystal it was patience. Persistent attack would eventually sap the walls through consistency of effort. Such was the advantage of their immortality. They were committed by their knowledge of dwarven life spans and were content to wear away the defenders before them without relent like a river carving its way through a canyon of shaped glass. In a way the dwarves had made them more dangerous in that they now understood the value of concentrated effort over time and a realization that nothing was able to withstand the strategy and determination of those that are endless in both life and will.

The dwarves were doomed - had it not been for one who recently came to understand the concept of an existence where forever held a reality. Fath’s detriments became his strengths as his esoteric arguments over infinite time became the backbone of the defender’s resolve.

As he stood at the gates into hell looking through the walls of Archcrystal he was about to attempt something, that he swore he would never do.