Bay 12 Games Forum

17th Slate

For days now I've been plagued by a dilemma. One of the previous curators (one before my time here) had ordered a number of statues constructed years ago. With the deconstruction of the masonry district for a proper workshop area, I am somewhat stuck as to what to do with the number of low-quality statues there. Most of them are not fit for the museum, being of poor quality, and yet the space they take up is copious and visually distracting.

I've finally settled for having them put up so that they line the walkway to the depot from the outside, just inside the narrow line of cage traps that I have placed at the exit. Fifty-eight statues now line the inside of our entry ramp, providing a specticle for any visitor to see. With luck, they will think the poor craftsdwarfship is simply the effects of time on stone.


22nd Slate

Today I threw Mubzuth Cattenatol, the head planter, into the moat.

I didn't intend to do it. Not at first, anyway. It had started at what was becoming a routine interview with the head of staff for his department. I had been reciving word from Thikut Urrithrakust, Shorast's Book Keeper, that a number of the recently harvested were still sitting in the fields after being picked several days ago. I had called Thikut into my study to ask him why it was such.

"Sir?" He replied in a somewhat confused voice. His eyes cloudy as he stared at me without focusing. They were strange, mismatched, the left blue while the right was a rich brown. Though he was able to walk decently, it was pretty clear that his vision was poor.

"Why are the plants still in the fields, Mubzuth?" I asked again, as politely and sweetly as a Delmarion Dragon asks it's prey to dine with it. Obviously the planter wasn't very bright either, as I had been certain to phrase it in such a way that somone of his caste would be sure to understand it. "It's been a week. At this rate the plump helmets that we need so much right now are going to rot."

Mubzuth looked down and scuffed his toe against the edge of the fresco, Dithbishidith an engraving commemorating the rise of 'Dresor the Tunneler' to leadership of our small community in 201, and mumbled something barely audible.

"What was that?" I asked patiently, pacing around my desk and getting close enough so that I could hear the words of the obviously exceptionally shy dwarf.

He shook his head and repeated it, just loud enough so that I could hear it, "We... well sir... we 'adent been tol to put the harvested plants in the stockpile. The job says planter, nothing about food haulin'"

After calming my temper and unlocking the hatch cover on the exit of moat. I will certainly address this issue. From now on, every dwarf will haul items related to his or her profession!


26th Slate
 
Today the child Onul Shemshigos, the child of Kogan Olatarbal and Zasit Rullitast the Siege Operator, has become an adult. I've assigned her to apprentice under Astesh Ostrigoth as a brewer, for now.


4th Felsite

Grim news.
Today the baby Zan Elbeloddom was reported missing by his father.
A full-scale search returned nothing of the child except for goblin tracks leading away from the museum.
I am forced to bear the brunt of the parent's blame, for it was during my leadership that this grim event happened. Regardless, there is nothing we can do now except strive to keep our people indoors for the indefinite future.

1st Hematite - End of Spring report

Progress goes well on my projects for this year. A number of rennovations with our labor divisions, some internal reconstruction of our workshop area, and the conversion of the western segment of what appears to have been intended as a poorly-designed tree farm into a stockpile for the copious amount of plants that this harvest has brought in, in exchange for our large crop yields.

Over 80% of the workforce now has a bedroom, and more than nine tenths of those with a bedroom also own a cabinet and coffer. Morale is slowly, but steadily rising across the fortress.

The failed moat project has been walled off to allow the nearly dry brook a chance to refill to the levels that it once was. Eventually we will have a proper moat, in the meantime I've taken to ordering what I can removed from its murky depths.

Construction on my addition to the museum has also begun. The accommodations for the exhibit are approximately 60% complete at the time of this writing. Unfortunately, only 12.5% of the actual exhibit is available as of right now. I feel that my exhibit may only be half done by the end of this year, (provided that the migration arrives on time with new workers to aid in it's construction.) My only real regret about the exhibit is that I am unable to aquire any Carp, Sturgeons, or Longnose Gar to complete one portion of it. Alas, breeds of local small fish will need to suffice.

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Implying in any way, shape, or form that nobility are not useful and beneficial to the proper operation of a fortress is a criminal offense of the same potency as treason. Which is punishable by ninety-nine hammerstrokes.

Are you a traitor, Squeegy?


On a serious note, the museum has only one noteworthy smith that I see, who is our Weapon and Armorsmith. The DM is the only other dwarf with a skill above novice in any true smithing skill (Metalcrafting). He's also one of our more skilled Furnace Operators. He is at least as useful as the vast majority of the smiths, barring for the fact that we can't turn him off of particular jobs (which is easy to work around).

As for taming/training, do not forget that he can train regular animals as well (for instance, the fifteen war dogs I had trained and caged when I first started). Plus, when we capture a megabeast to tame and place in the museum he will be the only dwarf capable of doing so in the entire fortress.

Considering he never makes any mandates, nor will he demand anything so long as you give him a decent room it is very clear that he is by far the best noble and clearly useful to have.

Had you given him and the mayor a proper room before your turn had ended, I wouldn't have evicted you or Fox. If things go according to plan, I might give you both back your rooms before the end of the year. But that depends on the museum receiving a fairly high number of ambushes led by kidnapped children.

Also if you deseat me from my rooms, bitch, my next reign will NOT be pleasant for you.

3rd Granite

So much work to do.

1. Fix the housing problem
2. Fix the food problem
3. Fix the workshop/Stockpile problem
4. Fix the labor problem
5. Actually do something about the museum.

This year is going to be a busy one for all of us. I do have a great idea for my own contribution. It has a certain flair that the less naturally-inclined of my kin may misinterpret as masochism, however it is a necessary evil I must endure in order to ensure that our museum contains the best exhibits, and nothing BUT the best.

4th Granite

These first few days have been busy. So much of this place is ill-conceived and poorly designed.

The first order of business (after throwing Squeegy out of his bedroom. Let's see how he likes sleeping on the floor for a change!) was job allocation. Nearly half of our population are masons. (or as the tally put it, "laborers"). This simply will not do. We have no clothiers, nor proper glassmakers, and out only craftsmen are bonecrafters. This is a disgrace! We are dwarves! Stone and Steel are in our blood and craftsmanship is in our very being. Indeed, so much of our time has been spent making blocks that sit uselessly in the workshops while there are hundreds of exhibits that need yet to be made. I've reassigned nearly all of the masons, some of them to simply engraving and smoothing the new quarters that are being carved out as we speak, but far more to other professions entirely.

I've also ordered that the artifacts Todorustuthlanggud, Akithlisat, and Desornokzam be placed within exhibits in the statue room behind windows made of sunstones. This museum will start looking like a proper museum if I need to do it with my own bare hands!

Urist Zuntiremen, the dwarf who's position I have replaced this year, has been acting odd recently. He has locked himself in his bedroom and will see nobody save his pets. It is a disturbing chain of events, but it doesn't concern me overly much. He'll get over it.

5th Granite

Urist has left his room today. His eyes alight with a glow that all witnesses claim was unnatural. He has locked himself in our recently-constructed clothier's workshop and has begun racing around the town to collect various nicknacks.

12th Granite

Outrageous!

Today I discovered the domicile of our Mechanic and previous curator, "Foxxy". His lodgings were fit for a king, filled to the brim with steel furniture. While I and our mayor Shorast are left to sleep with the commonfolk, this slothful fool has a bedroom nearly beyond compare. What hubris!

This is not acceptable! I have evicted him and rationed the room to our Mayor. When the baron comes I will not allow such disgraceful actions to go unpunished! There will be order and rank in my fortress!

13th Granite

The farms are once again running full-tilt, providing food for every citizen. As we have a surplus of seeds, I've told our cooks that they may bake them into meals so that none go hungry. I've also allowed the brewing of pig tails, so that we may have a little variety of alcohol in our diet. Something that is sorely needed.

What the previous curators thought they were doing I am baffled by. Hopefully when my year here is up we will get a sane dwarf to take my place.

15th Granite

I have discovered a large portion of the problem with our food supplies!
It appears that a previous curator had butchered a number of animals and had the fat stored in our unprepared food stockpile, and never had it rendered so it could be made into meals!
I will have this remedied quickly!

17th Granite

An ambush, curse them!
The mason Olon Mengag was caught outside when the goblins sprung from their hiding place. She attempted to run, but the lead goblin caught her and brought her down, shattering her left leg.
The goblins continued on toward the fortress, met swiftly by the crossbow bolts of Tekkud Lededdud, who was stationed on the fortifications at the time. He managed to fell one of the goblins and severely injure another before running out of bolts and being forced to retreat downstairs for more.


During the fighting, Urist finished his work. A pair of pig tail trousers that he calls Orhorigath, The Erased Scrape.  I've ordered it put into an exhibit in the statue room, along with our other craft artifacts.

23rd Granite

Shorast has forbidden the export of harps today, indicting that any harps of exceptinal qualtity be brought to his quarters for further inspection.

Nutter.



7th Slate

The first of the plump helmets I ordered planted last month have fully grown in. While I don't like  am not fond of them, it's clear that we need as much food as we can make in a short time, thus... helmets (yuk!)

The dining hall was something of an impromptu party, dwarves were everywhere eating, singing, and cheering as plates and plates of the purple mushroom were brought in. While I'm certain that the revelry will not last if we don't get some proper food made soon, this will last us for a little while at least.

(As an aside... damn it squeegy! There is virtually no food in the fortress! What were you doing on your turn? Half of the population is hungry or has been hungry in the recent past...)

To Rovod Unaldodok, King of Enornil

My dear lord and close friend, while I would normally applaud your interest in living in the town Limulegen "Goldgifted" noting your commendable patronization of the arts. After arriving to this location and surveying the grounds I must humbly inform you that this fortress is not fit for ANY noble to live in, much less one so esteemed as yourself.

The current curator, 'Squeegy', if you could call him that, has not even seen it fit to give the majority of his workers proper lodgings. Indeed, nearly a year I have been here and not a single room has been assigned to me. I have been forced to sleep in the barracks for months amongst the common laborers rather than in a suite that is fit for my own station. I strongly belive that should you come, or send a baron in your stead, they would be treated similarily.

There is also a severe lack of food here. Many of the populace grow hungry due to the mismanagement of the previous curators, and over half of our population has long grown tired of Helmet Wine. I fear that should this continue, many more laborers would die, delaying your pet project indefinably.

Finally, due to my extensive research into the past, I have determined that the structure and design of the fortress and it's production is highly inefficiant. Leading to numerous delays and mistakes where there should be none. While in a normal outpost of little import, this would not be a concern of yours. But this, this is the grand Museum. We cannot afford delays and setbacks, nor inefficiency. I had come to live here, and help with the grandest project of our time, only to find a squalid mess that leaves a bitter taste in one's mouth once seen and tasted.

It is thus that I humbly request to be placed as the next curator.

Yours truely, Malakai Sarrithar.
Dungeon Master.

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To Malakai Sarrithar,

My dear friend. I have read your letter and have received reports from the trade representative that support your claims. Although it is distressing that the museum has fallen so far with the current curators. While I cannot directly order you as permanent ruler, I can put you onto the top of the list of potential curators. You have one year, starting on Granite 1st, in order to whip Limulegen into a fortress worthy of her nobility.

May your Goddess Tithleth light your path in this endever.

Yours truely, Rovod Unaldodok

"Let. Me. Out!" Glacies screamed as she slammed against the door of her bedroom again, the heavy stone rattling on its hinges in response to the abuse delt to it by it's owner. The room behind her was a mess, her coffer and cabinet long-since broken in her rage at discovering that the door was locked. Glacies' clothing, and a few things belonging to Feb, were strewn about the room, thrown there in her rage and left forgotten about the floor.
 
Outside of the room Glacies could hear the elves in the distance. Their confused voices asking faintly, they must have been far away, when the trader would arrive. Calling out to Rikkir to open the gates and talk with them. Even going so far as to call threats out to the Priestess. It was clear that Rikkir had already sentanced the elves to death, like she had so many times before. Glacies felt her anger swell as she thought of all the lives, the men, women, and children who her "leader" was sentancing to death simply because of what they were. It was sickening, disgusting... it was WRONG!
 
With a bitter sob Glacies slammed the door one more time, falling to her knees as the strudy construct didn't move. Mulch's work, even one as old as the door, was solid. There was no way that she could remove it alone without tools, especially from the wrong side of the door. She was stuck. So caught up was she in her dispair that she hardly heard the soft scuffle on the other side of the door, followed closely by a familier voice. "Glacies?"
 
It was a male voice, one soft and unhardened by the years of work that their parents had undertaken in establishing Ulolgeshud. Unmarked by same hard year that Glacies had spent mostly outside of the walls, living and working in all weather to bring in extra food and leather that her family and community needed. A voice that she knew and knew well. "Feb? Feb, is it you?"
 
"Illeit was right. You are here." sad disappointment filled his voice as he formed the words.
 
"Feb, you're here. You can help me, let me out so I can stop Rikkir." Glacies pleaded, struggling with the locked knob on the door, "Please Feb, help me before she kills them!"
 
"I thought I knew you Glacies." Feb said cooly, his voice resigned, "I thought that because I loved you, I knew you. I was wrong."
 
"What? Feb, what are you saying?"
 
"How can you even think about sparing them, after all their kind has done to ours. They killed our parents parents, they murdered them in the night and consumed their flesh. They burned our ancestral home and desectrated our temples and cathedrals" Feb's voice rose as he recited the atrocities the elves had committed, his voice burning with a white-hot anger that he rarely showed. "They drove our parents out of our home and chased us to the corner of the world, whittling our original numbers from a fit thirty to seven. They enslaved what little remained of our kind and sold us as animals! They drove what little remained of our people insane! Even now they hire goblin mercenaries and lead them against us! Think Glacies, why should we spare them?"
 
"These elves are not the same as the ones who drove us out! I've talked with them, haven't you? They don't think of us as enemies, they respect us and are willing to trade things we desperately need." Glacies' voice was plaintive, her throat catching on the words as she struggled to keep back the tears that once agian threatened to overwhealm her.
 
"Elves are elves Glacies. I.. I don't know you anymore. I don't think I ever will either. They deserve death and nothing else. After what they've done to our kind, it's the least we can do in return for them."
 
Glacies recoiled from the doors as she heard those words, swallowing fiercely to clear her throat as she felt rage force it's way to the forefront of her mind. Rage was familier, rage was easier to deal with. "That's your mother speaking Feb, not you! This isn't like you at all! Listen to your yourself and tell me you belive what your saying! You can't honestly belive what you're saying!"
 
Glacies heard Feb sigh, a full and heartfelt action that destroyed her anger in an instant. "Glacies... good bye. I hope when you come out of there you realize how foolish you sound when you are in there." A moment later his boots crunched against the gravel on the path, swiftly growing fainter as he walked away from the his lover's door.
 
"Feb? Feb! Wait, please! Don't leave me here. Don't leave me alone!"
 
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Glacies' wail was heard throughout the village as Feb walked away from her house. His footsteps heavy as heavy as his mind as he walked down the granite steps to the cathedral and knelt to pray before the golden altar.

Hi, guys! I'm back. For some reason unknown, the whole bay12-Homepage didn't work for me for the last week or so. Well, whaaatever.
I'm kinda depressed... The project has been running for a month and we have the total of two fortresses and three skips. Is this normal?
I'm starting to doubt that it was a good idea. So many problems...

Toady's old provider pulled the plug on him. He moved to a new host site. That's why the forum has been down.

Again, I recommend that we implement a time limit for turns in real life days. Giving people one week to respond to the first PM would probably be fairest. Once you've started I'd say that one week from your most recent post would cover us from people who lose interest and just disappear from the face of the earth.

Also, it looks like Boksi has it right now. ^^ Given that he just posted he has a we

Yay, the forums are back.

I'll be able to post tomorrow after I get back from classes. We've got a little catching up to do, but I decided against continuing to play while the forums were down (because I would have ended up year and year ahead, and that would make an impossible update for me.)

Either way, cheers!

Indeed there is.