Bay 12 Games Forum

What exactly are you trading to them that's causing them to take more than 2 months to pack up?

Trading lots of unpacked stuff (eg. lots of small crafts or trading off bin contents while keeping the bins) has been known to cause trade caravans take forever to pack up, presumably because they have to pack individual items rather than a binful of items.

Guilty as charged, but it's not like I'm trading them THAT much stuff. I was lucky enough to end up with a legendary metalcrafter due to a mood, so by now 10-12 gold crafts are enough to clean the caravan of all useful stuff. If anything, they're leaving with less stuff than what they came in with.

On another note, lovely road system you got going on there.

Why thank you. Though I'm building it more out of necessity than anything else. I'm playing on a 6x6 map, and other than the SW corner, the map is entirely woodland, so I thought the merchants would appreciate not having to navigate an ever-more-complex maze to get in.

Back to topic at hand though -- any ideas on how to take care of that little problem in the screenshot? Other than firing ballista bolts at it?

Sorry about the sudden pause, but large workload + hot weather = no energy left to write.

I shall resume updating this weekend.

This update got away from me a bit length-wise, I think.


***



"Alright, here they come," Stalia said when the first wagon rounded the bend on the road below. She squinted, trying to make out the indistinct figures of the caravan's guards. "Looks like they did fall behind the wagon when the road narrowed," she paused in thought before making her decision. "We're doing this. Weiss, Dza, get ready."

Even Stalia – she of the "let's steal everything, travel a thousand miles through the wilderness, and then traverse the goddamn mountains to boot" plan – took some persuading to raid the monthly food transport from Catchdike. This was because the idea came from Dza and, as far as the whole group was concerned, Dza was completely insane.

Back in Standardblunt, Dza's family secured him a job in the communal kitchens. But he found that boring and one day rode a bull through the dining hall during the noon meal, throwing meat pies at fleeing diners.

His father pulled in some favors and got Dza assigned to the fortress's massive underground farms. Perhaps he hoped that wading through knee-deep muck for the whole day would keep his son too tired to cause trouble. But Dza found that boring as well, and got caught trying to organize a mud wrestling club.

Using all their remaining clout, his family managed to get him into Standardblunt's militia, hoping this, at least, would keep Dza's interest. Things were fine until his first training bout, which ended with the overenthusiastic Dza biting off another recruit's ear. This proved the final straw – after getting kicked out of the militia, he was exiled to the Mudhole.

"We're sticking to the plan," Stalia said, pulling down the darkened goggles over her eyes. "Remember – no names. Matter of fact, no talking unless it's life or death. And no biting," she added, giving Dza a hard look. "Let's try and stay anonymous for at least a bit longer."

"Right-o, Boss Lady," the dwarf grinned broadly, proudly displaying an array of gleaming white teeth. "Today my babies stay holstered," he promised, covering his face up with a scarf.

Dza loved the Mudhole. The danger, the violence, the daily struggle to survive – he couldn't get enough of it. He didn't even mind serving as the group's cook – not when getting the food on the stove usually meant prying it out of someone's hands while biting their face off.

His teeth were famous throughout shantytown. Huge, sharp, pearly white – unless they just happened to be stained with someone's blood. They were known – and feared – enough, that Stalia would take Dza with her to negotiations with goblin gangs just for the added intimidation value.

"Just think of all the food they're carrying," Weiss could hardly contain his excitement. "And we'll get the wagon and the horses as well."

"Not possible," Stalia shook her head. "Not with every patrol from here to Catchdike looking for it if we pull this off. You'll be talking us to the old quarry – we'll meet the others there, grab what we can, and run on foot."

"Well, that sucks," Weiss threw another longing view at the wagons. "And for this trek of yours, do you plan to have us carry everything on our backs?"

"Of course not. We'll be getting a different wagon."

"Oh? Where from?"

"There's this- damn, they just passed the mark. Dza!"

The dwarf was already in position. He covered his eyes with his own set of goggles and, with a grin visible even under the scarf, kicked the support out from under the platform holding back the stones.

With a terrifying crash, nearly twenty tons of rock went over the ledge, gathering speed as they tumbled down the steep incline and towards the caravan, where dwarves were looking up, pointing, shouting, and – predictably enough – panicking.

"I think we timed it right!" Stalia yelled over the noise. "Our turn!"

And all three of them jumped off the ledge.



When the rumbling started, both the driver of the leading wagon, and the marksdwarf riding with him on the box seat looked up to see the rockslide bearing down right at them. But whereas the guard froze in shock, the driver cracked the reins and yelled, urging the horses forward, while behind them stones crashed into the road – and any dwarves or animals that didn't managed to get out of the way.

The wagon came to a stop a few dozen feet away. The sound of falling rocks was fading, giving way to terrified whinnies and the cries of the wounded. The air was thick with dust. The driver coughed, spat, then looked at the still shocked guard.

"We should head back and he-"

Then Dza arrived, dropping down on both their heads.

A foot to the head sent the guard off the side of the wagon and most likely tumbling further down the slope, towards the river. Dza was too busy repeatedly punching the driver in the face to care. Stalia landed on the cart with a surprised gasp, followed by Weiss, who immediately jumped down onto the road and started calming down the horses which, already jittery after the rockslide, were now on the edge of panic.

The drive finally unconscious, Dza threw him off the wagon as well, and turned around, scanning for threats, but the only think he could make out was a single body, half-buried under the fallen rocks. He looked down at Stalia, who was still sitting down, clutching her left ankle.

"Sprained," she explained through clenched teeth. "We need to get moving!" this was directed at Weiss, who climbed into the seat and took the reins, getting the wagon moving.

"Ouch," he said, noticing the ankle. "Will you be able to walk?"

"Doubt it. I'll be talking the boat."

"Alone? Are you crazy?!"

They've hidden a small boat about half a mile down the river, as an escape route in case something went wrong.

"We're already one person less for carrying this stuff," she retorted. "Can't afford to lose another just to carry me. I'll be fine.

"Once you get to the quarry, Niyazov knows where to take the supplies. We'll meet back at the hideout in the morning."


***



"Certainly," Stalia replied to the goblin.

Dza knew that tone of voice. He's been around Boss Lady long enough to know that she only ever used it if negotiations were about to… break down. Therefore, even though he didn't know where she got the sword, he wasn't surprised in the least when the goblin leader died in the span of a moment. And Boss Lady's warcry and charge preceded his own only by a split second.

He picked the bowgoblin as his target, a manic grin already creeping onto his face as he dashed forward. The goblin fumbled with an arrow, sending it wide in a hurried shot. Before he could draw another one, Dza was upon him.

Not bothering with subtlety, Dza simply slammed into the goblin, causing him to fly back and crash into the tree trunk behind him, air driven from his lungs by the impact. Before the hapless brigand could recover, Dza grabbed his chin, tilting his head back. Then, in a single motion, he bit down on and ripped out the goblin's throat, turning a frightened cry into a dying gurgle.

His enormous grin stained red, rivulets of blood running down his beard, the dwarf straightened up, looking for another victim. His eyes fell upon the two macegoblins taking swings at Stalia, as she danced between them, parrying some blows, dodging others. She was no trained swordsdwarf, clutching the blade clumsily, and barely managing to hold her own, staying alive only thanks to her superior reach – and even so, she was being driven back.

He was starting to move to help her, when it happened. One of the goblins swung his mace in a quick, nasty downward arc aimed at the dwarf's hip. Stalia saw it coming and slashed up to parry. The two weapons connected.

And the sword – the dwarven sword – the product of dwarven smiths, working with dwarven steel.

It broke.


***


I couldn't come up with an idea for a prelude for a second animal trainer that wouldn't read similar to the one for Niyazov, so instead I'm having Weiss appear as a supporting character in this update, and the next one. I hope empfan doesn't mind too much.

Also, there's still two slots open for the starting dwarves. Volunteers?

"There's peace between us, goblin," Stalia said, making an effort to keep her voice even. "This harassment will have… consequences."

At her final word she saw the goblins raise their weapons half an each, she felt the dwarves on either side of her tense up, readying for a fight. But the leader of the warpack which accosted them merely leered.

"I think," he paused to pick something out of his teeth. "Know what I think? I think, you're not a merchant, dwarf. They dress fancy. And hire guards. I think," he paused again to take a swig from a hip flask he carried – Stalia thought she recognized a stamp of Omentin smithdwarves under the grime, "you're not settlers either. The peace treaty you threaten us - it says, any new expeditions to be a joint effort. Togetherness and cooperation, right?" the goblin spat. "No. What I thin is, you're no one important, dwarf. A vagabond no one cares about. Or maybe," he stepped forward, his smile predatory, "fugitive. Maybe someone will care – if I bring them your head."

Stalia reflexively took a step back, bringing her up against the wagon behind her. It couldn't end like this. She couldn't let things end like this – not barely four days out of Standardblunt.


The brigand had her dead to rights – they were vagabonds and fugitives both. Stripped of their clan and banished from within the pristine marble walls of the First Mountainhome for the crime of being another useless mouth to feed in the overcrowded halls, forced to scratch out a living among the thousands of goblins of the Mudhole – a shantytown in the valley below, and now yet again in exile, this one self-imposed, in search of a better life.

Months it has taken her to persuade others that there had to be something better out there. A place where they wouldn't have to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of food on the table, where every day wasn't a battle for the right to see another sunrise. A place where they could sleep a good night's sleep without fear that the sentry would wake them yelling that their hideout's been discovered by one of the goblin gangs vying for rule over the Mudhole.

Then it was weeks of effort, and fights, and stupid risks to get the supplies necessary for the trek. They lied, they cheated, they stole – and worse. They left Mudhole with every single one of the three thousand goblins living there – as well as most of the other dwarf exiles – out for their blood. They've collapsed those mineshafts behind them – there was no going back.

To go through all this and then die to a bunch of brigands - No.


"We don't have guards because we're working for a cheapskate," Stalia heard herself say in a cold, annoyed tone. "And all we're doing is taking a load of coal to Tangledchannels. Here, "she stepped to the side, pulling back the edge of the tarp. She turned to the side, as she did so, to hide her other arm reaching under the driver's seat, fingers closing around the hilt of the shortsword hidden there. "And then get out of my sight."

The warpack leader hesitated – a flicker of uncertainty crossed his leathery face. Even brigands knew better than to mess with sanctioned ore transports. Everyone still remembered the Onslaught of Gorging – and what led up to that massacre.

"Yes, I will take a look," the goblin growled, his bluster and good humor gone as he approached the wagon. "And then I will also take a look at your certificates and shipping list."

"Certainly," Stalia replied.

And then she shoved two feet of dwarven steel into his gut.

She followed that by grabbing his head and smashed it face-first into the wagon, feeling, rather than hearing the goblin's nose break and skull crack under her hand.

For a moment, everything froze. Everyone just stood there, staring with eyes wide with shock. For that moment, she still had the initiative.

"See?! Consequences! At them!" she roared, jumping forward.

And hoping like hell that the others would follow.



****************************************


Hello, and welcome to The Broken Clan – a community fort in exile.

Inspired by Olonkulet (and sad that it never finished), I bring you a tale of seven brave souls in search of a new home.

Worldgen gave me a world the entire quarter of which is dominated by a massive, continuous mountain range – The Responsible Walls. These impenetrable peaks hide valleys wide enough to host entire kingdoms and deep enough to contain lakes the size of seas. Completely isolated from the rest of the world, with humans an elves naught but half-forgotten legends, this place has borne witness to five centuries of war between the dwarves of The Dye of Crosses and two goblin civilizations.

(there's also a bunch of kobolds, but who cares about them)

Fifteen years ago, after a massive battle, in which losses surpassed 95% on both sides, a tentative peace was reached. What followed was a new era and peace and prosperity, as well as a sequence of events that lead up to Stalia's current predicament. Fortunately, she decided to bring stalwart companions with her – or so she hopes.

I would like six dwarves to step forth and take up the mantle. As Olonkulet did, I hope to characterize them in the prelude leading up to starting the fortress proper. The rules are as follows:

- only 5 ranks to spend on skills, to simulate the rampant overcrowding and resulting lack of work plaguing the civ capital of Standardblunt.
- remaining 5 ranks to be spent on any combination of unarmed combat skills to simulate the school of hard knocks the dwarves have received on the streets of the Mudhole
- 100 points per dwarf to be spent on supplies they've managed to scrounge up before departure. Most items can be reasonably justified, except for the following: seeds, plants, and metal ores and bars, as the mountainhome keeps tight control over what supplies are allowed to trickle down to the exiled dwarves. Though the Mudhole does have (or perhaps had…) a single anvil.

No mods. Default graphics only. Final destination – across The Responsible Walls, and onwards, until supplies last.

Something that I can't figure out: after designating a stockpile for booze (or any food items for that matter), I can then set how many barrels I want the dwarves to put there. That works fine, except that right after designating the stockpile someone immediately hauls the nearest empty barrel there and leaves it just sitting there.

If it's a standard food stockpile, that barrel eventually gets filled with meat or whatever, but if it's a booze-only stockpile, it sits there forever, empty, because the brewer won't pick it up for a brewing job, not even if I forbid every other barrel in the fort. The only way I can get him to actually use it is if I reduce the allowed number of barrels in that stockpile to zero, but that's a very annoying and roundabout way of doing things, since then I have to remember to set the stockpile to allow barrels again, otherwise no booze gets hauled there.

Does anyone have a solution?

I couldn't find anything about it in the Cores, Reqs, etc. so:

Are there any plans to eventually apply the changes to the military interface to civilian dwarves as well?

Specifically, I'm thinking about establishing work crews, so that my woodcutters, for example, would leave the safety of the fortress together, stick fairly close to one another while cutting down the designated trees, go on break as a group, maybe even help each other out with the more stubborn trees (once wood raws are in).

In my current fort I got a Shem Dawnshot. After going postal on eight goblins with a simple bronze axe, only some training, and no armor, he got the title "Earthen Coil".