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Tired. My arms ache. My legs ache. My back aches, oh god, I never knew a back could ache so much. Poppop said this'd be what it felt like when you do actual labor. Well wasn't he just a ziril agak for being right. The others seem unaware of how wretched it is to carry a barrel full of ale up one side of the mountain and then down the other knowing full well you're only going to have to do it all over again.

The paper in my hands is still waiting for me to read it. The fact the baron sent me here means my protection is gone. Whether I've lost Royal favor or not, I've lost the Baron's protection which means I'd have to find a new benefactor. The throb in my head hasn't let up since we've gotten here. The cool and rough cavern walls feel good against it though. I've never been so grateful to sleep on a dirty floor before.

The papers are still waiting for me to finish reading. With the others resting where they could, Crispin even collapsing in the grass where he had rested a barrel of fish for a moment to catch his breath. I didn't have the strength to drag him inside and neither did anyone else. The chittering of Betsy echoing down the hall has become a comfort, even if her cheerful demeanor is about as well founded as expecting a bunch of haggard unfamiliar dwarves to cobble together a solid defense against a near half dozen cyclopes.

The paper feels like lead in my hand.

*Sigh*

Best to find out what your master wants of you Lęgan.

"- Cyclopes. I'd also recommend you don't do anything rash and attempt to engage them once or perhaps if you manage to carve out a safe enough hovel to hide in.

Now Hopefully if you're reading this far you've gotten yourself someplace safe and will be able to take the full weight of what I'm telling you. You've proven yourself very clever Lęgan, very clever indeed. While it's no good to have you flaunting it around the mountainhome I pride myself on finding the right task for the right person. You are just the sort of dwarf who knows how to make the impossible possible. Now I think we both know that it's in your best interest to keep me happy so I expect you'll give this your all,like you used to when you first arrived at the mountain home. Enough of that though. For now simply stay alive and begin thinking about building up your current predicament. IF you survive the year I'll give you a better idea of how you can please me.

Those fellow dwarves you've woken with should have all the appropriate skills necessary to get things rolling. There may be a few folk I may find convenient to send your way if you've lost one of your fellows all ready. But please take care of Betsy will you? She's something of a favor I've promised someone, if you can find enough to feed her she'll no doubt help as she's nearly as strong as she is wide.



What could he mean about the impossible possible? Well short of making a home out of a nest of Cyclopes but I doubt I'm the dwarf for that. The uthgůr has something more foolhardy for me to do no less. Probably to open a cyclops eye soup kitchen or some such. Whatever he's promising it'd be to the king no doubt, he's been working the royalty over for a countship for some time now.

Hrmm, that seems to be the only letter amongst the papers. The rest look like pages torn from old books and reports to the Baron. Hrmm...these sketches look like they matching up identifying marks between the torn pages and the reports. I think they're a list of records of Cyclopes. I skim the first one I come across. "Akortęz, Controlivory the Bejweled Cave" Doesn't sound so bad, a little flamboyant perhaps but not too terrifying.


...is definitely Akoręz. He practically announces it to the rocks and trees when he comes across them.

 Hrmmm, some one's sketched a picture the beast here.
That's quite the physique he's got there. Looks like another set of pages about this one, it seems to be an archival record. They're all just names and dates though.
Hrmm, the last page has someone else's handwriting in the margin.

....100 total confirmed. Thirty six identified

*sigh*

I wonder if the others would think it amiss if I ordered up a few rock coffins.

Dearest Diary,
   Oh poo. All anyone talks about anymore is Mook's new cabinet. How beautiful it is, how magnificent how actually useful. No one even comes around and pretends you can hear anything from banging on a rock drum any more. At least mr. cuddlekisses still wuvs me. Yes he does, yes he does.

p.s. I wonder if they expect me to keep making these stupid crafts or if I can go back to making wine again.
p.p.s. Not that I'm not just incredibly amazing at it or anything but there's no fun in testing a trinket before it's done and you can't swipe a biscuit from the cook when he's not looking if you leave chalk dust everywhere you go.

Legendarily yours Diary,
Kelly.

Dearest Diary, I never had much concern over stone but something about this place struck something inside me, I'd never had much love for anything but a good drink and my little cuddlekisses. Now look at me, proud owner of a drum! Made of Chalk no less! Yes I do believe this vacation is turning out just grand.

XoXo

*CREAK*

My head hurt.

*CREAK*

And there was this annoying noise in my room.

*CREAK*

Upon opening my eyes I discovered I wasn’t in the filthy hovel of a home provided for me. It was some place worse. Outside.

*CREAK*

“Why the nashon shash am I outside?” I muttered

“Beats me” came a gravelly voice frighteningly close to me.  I bolt up and am suddenly stopped by a wave of nausea. I have to close my eyes if I don’t want to spit up whatever it was I was drinking last night.

*CREAK*

Once the moment passes I let my eyelids slowly open. Before me I saw the sun rising over a mountain peak  across a valley from where I sat. The sky was mercilessly clear and bright to my sore eyes. The peaks across the valley began to sink into the earth as the bed I lay on began to shift. Soon only clear blue sky filled my vision as I felt myself falling back into bed.

“Ah, now you done it.” came that gravelly voice again.

*CREEAAKKK*

The world began to shake and move. “Cave In!” I yelled wondering if the sky could fall and crush you the way mother claimed it would.
“It’s not a cave in ya daft shimbîl. It’s the ground not the sky.”   With that a pair of large hands, hard and cracked from years of labor appeared before me. My arms won’t respond fast enough as those hard cracked hands move towards my neck. Instead of crushing the life from me though, they settled on my tunic and pulled me up and around. The sight greeting me did nothing for soothing my nausea. My bed was filled with filthy dwarves and jostling barrels. Most disconcerting of all though was how my bed was not only outside but rushing down the a rocky slope.

“Perhaps we should do something about that.” I offered, my mind finally honing in on the important piece of information regarding my survival.

“Well aren’t you a fountain of ideas” Gravel voice muttered, dropping me back down and making his way forward over my bed. Not bed, wagon, it must be a wagon I decided. “I’ll try to get this mangy ass to slow down, you see if you can’t make yourself useful by slowing the wheels.”

There was all manner of junk in the wagon before me. Barrels bounced against each other threatening to break loose from where they were bound to the wagon rails an anvil lay beneath a dwarf holding on as if it were the only sure thing in this suddenly uncertain world. A sudden bump and I’m in the air, hands desperately grasping for purchase. They latch onto a stalk of tower cap wood just as a second bump causes a dwarf seated on a nearby barrel to fly off into a problem that at least excludes wagons.  A second glance around shows me that we’ve still got four dwarves clinging to supplies with white knuckles and green faces.
 
“Woah! Woah you nashon zagith.” Gravel Voice bellowed, in a roar that became nearly indistinct from the rattle of the rocks collapsing down the slope with us.
My hands, tightly wrapped around the wood log began to burn from the vibration of sliding across the unsmoothed stalk. Ah blessed discomfort, ever the incentive and the muse. I turned to the dwarf clutching the anvil. “Anvilhands, come here and help me stop this disaster.” Anvilhands moved up off the anchor and over to me. A few moments instructing him of our plan followed by more cursing from G.V. and soon we were in position.
With my signal we both pushed a log down between the wheels and the wagon walls. The first time the log nearly jerked out of my hands but I hastily pushed it back between the wheels creating as much frictionas possible. For that I was rewarded with a face full of smoke from the now smouldering wheel and the cries of dismay from some dwarf behind me. Before a wheel could break or a serious fire could begin I feel the wagon turn and come to a jarring stop, sending me head over heels out of the wagon.
A cloud of silty dust fills my vision and the coughing and hacking dwarves my ears, welcoming sensations compared to moments earlier.
“Here now, no sense in laying in the dirt just because you’ve lost your seat” stated a dwarf picking me up by my shoulders. “Well aren’t you’re a light one.” I could hear him say as he set me back on my feet. No need to remark on the comment though, this morning’s events will be all anyone thinks about not my seemingly light stature. Turning around to flash a grin of thanks at Mr. Helpful is all the response I give as I dust myself off. The rest of the dwarves do similar followed shortly by the immediate need of all dwarves. The collection of goods and assets. A bar of iron is pulled out from under a set of tanned hides, along with a pair of copper picks. Anvilhands is dusting the recently used anchor and examining it for scratches, as if that were somehow to impede its usefulness. Another collects a hammer and chisel tucking the masons tools into their belt. It seems I alone notice the paper roll nailed to the underside of the wagon. Not having a trade of my own and no need to jealously hang on to the log that had so recently been our acting savior I curiously pick up and open the Scroll.

   Dearest Lęgan


Ok, well it looks like someone knows why I’m here.

“No doubt you’re the only one who’s noticed my scroll where the others are thinking of doing some actual work to resolve the situation. So consider yourself summarily promoted to leader. Now before you think of a clever method of getting out of your new role I suggest you start a camp in the valley to the east of the mountain you’re resting on before you’re spotted by the-

“Giant!” urged a dwarf who’d been resting atop a barrel and surveying the area.
There it was sitting on a boulder kickking a dead hoary marmot. It looked up and held me frozen as I realized it not only saw me but that it had only one eye. “That’s no giant, it’s a Cyclops.” I whispered to my now suddenly important fellow dwarves in trouble.
“Yes well we best do something before the rest spot us.”  Gravel Voice stated leaning against the wagon.
“Rest? What do yo-“ A dwarf who I hadn’t really noticed said with a straw of cave wheat he’d found amongst the supplies tucked between his teeth. I wasn’t really concerned with his hygiene of resourcefulness as I now saw that there was not one but five cyclopes lounging about in the field below us, kicking about a hoary marmot corpse in some twisted version of kick-ore.
Through gritted teeth I gave the order “Everyone, grab what you can and head up and over the mountain, we’re digging in and not dallying about.”

“Not that I care to hang about” Gravel Voice said, moving from his position with the easy confidence of someone used to correcting others “and see if we’re of anymore interest to that band of one eyed bastards than their bunsoth game of kick the corpse but you’re the one who sent us careening down this nashon hill already and whats ta say their aint something even worse on the other side.  I say-“ He was getting into his speech to point out how he’d be a much safer fellow to follow and while normally I’d care less, leadership brings too much work and worse responsibility than I was comfortable with. However, it seems the Baron, and who else could’ve left that note but the Baron? Had some information on where we were and more importantly what we faced than any of us did and damned if I was going to let go of that precious information to a codgy old dwarf more concerned with a crusty title or acknowledgement of authority than my immediate safety.

“Shut up boulder breath” I seethed at him, catching him off guard with my sudden intensity. “I’ve got the supply and support orders here” I shoved the scroll I’d been reading, now wound back up into a n imposing bundle up under his nose, “our safety and survival hinges on a secure operation well clear of our current position.” At least I hope it would. Now to direct the blame back on him before he can question me. “If you had secured the wagon instead of pondering your belly button lint we wouldn’t be a cliff’s edge away from some Cycolops’ stew.”  Now I need to give him something he wants. “So organize the removal of goods from the wagon and start hauling it over that peak.” Gravel Voice was nearly purple with frustration but all the wind blew from his sails when I gave him that last bit of authority. Now I just need to make clear sure that I don't leave him alone with everyone.

“You there, with the pick in your hands” I pointed with one hand while turning around. "Come with me"

"Where are we going?"The miner responded while hefting his pick onto his shoulder.

"You’re going to save our beards.”
_________________________________________________________

This little community fortress will be using Cpt. Mayday's Legendary Lands mod so there will be deaths once things get up and running and the full purpose of fortress begins. It won't all be done in 1st person but thought I'd try it out.

Embark map coming soon, along with some personality profiles of the available dwarves. Only Lęgan is needed so the other 6 will be available. Plenty of room for additional background story on the other dwarves, including the so far unnamed Gravel Voice, Murdergrin and Hayseed, lots of immigrants. Let me know if there are labor\sex preferences.

Oh and please add any critiques or comments.

Embark:

The Characters So Far:

The Characters yet to be claimed. (All commments can\will be adjusted to fit profiles requested but the below comments hint at who or what else they are.)

Then it's probably something simple that you're overlooking because you're right. It is possible. I don't know what the issue is tough, are they {forbidden}? Are they set to TSK?

Try mining out some more gold.

Perhaps this is why the nobles send the hammerer after their dwarfs, they've gotten tired of their uppity attitudes towards ignoring jobs.

I went with war dogs. I put two war dogs in a change and then released them against 1 goblin theif. I wanted to keep track of which animal got the kill and how everyone died so I assigned them to useless serfs so the dogs would have names.

Whenever a dog kills a named creature it recieves a name. So unless you want the name before the fight, you can leave them as unassigned workd dogs. If you're wanting to breed tough dogs I'd throw the [slow_learner] tag on them otherwise all your named dogs will die as easily as the green horns.

I have two enterences to my fort one enterence is in the bottom of a megabeast cave  connected through an open air wall section which I leave open when not expecting caravans. the other is a standard caravan path.

My issue is that whenever a swarm of dwarven invaders march through the megabeast's digestive system my current dwarves will rush up the stairs outside then rush down into the enterence of the megabeast cave. I've got all bodies and goods forbidden on death and it took me awhile to figure out why dwarves were rushing in there but it appears to be a mix of cleaning up the blood tasks and picking up objects before they realize they're forbidden.

So why are my dwarves going up into the fresh air when I have all citizens forbidden to go outdoors?