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Obsidian 1, 1051
I've decided to use the dwarven system of months, as far as I can remember, since they can be accurately measured by this nifty sundial thing that I bought from the dwarves. So what if I don't remember all of the months right? I also also was reccomended to write more formally, since this journal is going to be the only form of record for a while. I also also also decided to do a more detailed survey of the area.

I discovered some interesting things. For one thing, an interesting type of reddish, grainy soil.

Apparently it can be used as clay.
[Sidenote: Just another of the nifty, weird little things I added. Plastic grains are a type of soil, clay in fact, and can be fired into plastic, a “metal” that can be forged into most things and is comparable to copper but lighter. That concludes this update's edition of “Weird Mods,” by GreatWyrmGold.]
Also, in a nearby pond I see some frozen water along one edge, clinging to a strange bluish rock.

[Sidenote: According to the z-stone menu, ice crystals are normal stone. It probably has a low fixed temperature.]
Also also, we have white sand, and some sort of swimming wyvern, which is identified to me as a plesioth, is swimming in the river. Three actually, and a sea lamprey. I hope it's friendly...
Probably not. My luck's not that good. And then I have to deal with the plesioloths...

I start planning our fortress by having Purplepanthers dig into the side of the hilltop, to make sand-collecting, potterring, and probably some other furnacey areas. Also a temporary dorm. I also also choose a spot to put our food and a protective cat, and start chopping down trees since there's no managing or bookkeeping to do. I also also also have Das Coastbud, a lady who slipped past my notice last time despite being among the most gigantic felynes I have ever seen (brewer, cook, herblist: You know the type) start gathering plants. Unfortunately, one of the plesioloths has decided that it would be fun to get angry and spit at Coastbud. Make that two of them. I go to help...

(KEY: The brown C is Das, the yellow one Zurko, and the two red !'s enraged plesioloths. The third is chillin' down the river.)
...but decide to follow Coastbud and turn tail. “He who doesn't fight but runs away/Lives for at least another day.” I hope they let her live and go to cut trees...then they split up, one against each of us! So far, the spit water has only hit Das, bruising her, but if one of them closes to melee range...holy shit. And then the other five too, possibly.
Then the one following me wanders off, no longer enraged, allowing me to chop down a tree. Maybe this plesioloth episode will have a happy ending after all.
Bruised lung and liver, with the third plesioloth after you isn't so bad, right? It's better than being captured by goblins, that's for sure.

Obsidian 2, 1051
Today, plesioloth spit at me, but it glanced away, so I kept hacking at that pesky maple until I was done, then ran...to a healthy-looking oak. And ignored Das running past me, because damn it, a tree should be CUT DOWN. Then I noticed the angry plesioloth behind her...

[Wow, these guys are worse than carp or even alligators. They're like giant badgers who can spit at you to get your attention, and swim. Tetcishrat, you have the record for Fastest Dwarf Kill in any game I have played.]
Biggest mistake of my life, except maybe joining this goddamn caravan. No time to complain about that, I need to write my will before I die from that head-wound the fucking plesioloth gave me.

The Last Will and Testi Testu Tes Fuck this, I leave everything at home to my wife, except for a microcline coffer I have in my room at the Woodworker's Guild, which is to be delivered to Dankis, two houes down the block, with a note reading “For Project Wyvernhearted.” My few belongings here...my axe goes to the fort, my clothes to buy needed supplies, and my favorite, aptonoth-shell-studded obsidian Wyverns' Bones dice to Dancedpearl, this journal to Ulde, and my position as Expedition Leader to Das, to enjoy for what time she has left.
[Seriously, when Zurko died, Das became expedition leader. Don't ask me to explain.]
Finally, a secret to help everyone here avoid peril: In the deep, my militia found a danger worse even than these plesioloths. They are easy to identify, if you know how. To star(bloodstains obscure a couple words; Wyvernsheart is presumed to have died at this point.)
(The following section is written in a more precise, yet strangely much more irregular, handwriting.)
Granite 1-Arrival. Plans. Plesioloths angered at our existance.
Granite 2-Wyvernsheart killed by a plesioloth (thereafter named Breakkillers) who was trying to squeeze between him and a tree.
Granite 3-Plesioloths attack Das in melee. She passes out, then is killed by a lucky headshot by another plesioloth's spit. Plesioloth dubbed Furnaceshut by Dancedpearl. Plesioloths calm down, hopefully for good. Dancedpearl, having had the second-most votes when we chose our leader, is chosen to replace Wyvernsheart.
Granite 4-The last food, the barrel of goose meat, is hauled to the stockpile. Purplepanthers reaches the odd grainy soil and compares the shade of her fur to the soil, evidently deciding to use it to supplement her original supply of dye. A few workshops' sites chosen.
Granite 5-A meeting is held.
(The handwriting changes again, this time into neat script, mostly Felyne but with bits of Dwarvish and other languages sprinkled in.)
Journal of Bini Dancedpearl, current expedition leader of The Sabre of Fear, the settlers of Dawnstone
Granite 5, Year 1 of Dawnstone
Today was a momentous occasion. We actually had a meeting. They will be irregularly held from hre on out, once every few days until we are rescued or die. I also convinced Ripevessels to let me use this journal after he copied the notes on various devices out of the back (this entry was actually written on the 6th). In addition, we agreed on a few measures:
1. By the warning of our first leader's last words, unless it be necessary for survival itself, we will not dig much below the surface. We will build our home out of soil and some of this interesting clayey stuff, and some of the upper layers of rock, and maybe dig deeper mines, but we will NOT live deep down underground.
2. We are ashamed of it, but the area over by where Das and Wyvernsheart died will be abandoned.
3. A replacement axe, made of wood if needed, will be commissioned unless Wyvernsheart's axe can be retrieved before then.
4. Pinetreasure will take over woodcutting operations for the present time, and Ripevessels will become our herbalist.
5. Basementsubmerge will be allowed to try out a new process he came up with, involving something about growing wood.
[Random Note: Just one of the misc. reactions I gave them.]
6. ASAP, the original ideas for furnaces will be followed and I will start potterring shortly thereafter, fuel permitting.
We may pass other measures later, but for now, that is the extent of our Executive Decisions.

(various irrelevant passages deleted)

Granite 9, 1051
While Pinetreasure was chopping at a tree with the axe he made, Furnaceshut got enraged at his presence...

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Nice cliffhanger, neh? Find out what happens next...Tomorrow!

3X3.

Okay, I've got an intro right about now, so I'll start with that.

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The World: Orbuzong
This world we live in was once a virgin wilderness. Then the gods, bored of watching flowing meadows and burbling streams, made the races: Dwarves, shakalakas, felynes, goblins, daemons, and of course humans.

The first age of the world was the Golden Age. Many starved before farms could be established, there were wars, demons rose to positions of power in some lands, many died and were born. Were these times glorious? I do not think so, but some do. This period lasted from the First Year of Creation for about a century, after Sacath Milecreature became the law-giver of the humans in the 110th Year of Creation.
Then came the Twilight Age, when the humans began to dominate. More wars were fought, and the humans proved the value of short but, ahem, “busy” lives. This age lasted until the humans defeated and pillaged (for the 471st time) the daemon settlement of Munchedwhisked in 723.
Thus began the Age of Fairy Tales, when most races were thought to be nothing more than tales to many. It has lasted half of Creation, and indeed recently one can understand why humans think they are alone: The last interaction they had with the “true” races was in early 1006, when they destroyed the daemon settlement of Bodicecloistered for the second time. After that, the gods, bored with the human-dominated world, sent the “false” races--wicked monsters, bloated horrors, wicked horrors, maybe some bloated monsters, and their kin formed from abducted men and women. Still, other races lived on, notably in the goblin-dominated south of the world, where they ran free and had encountered no others.

It is into this world of men that we start our tale, a tale of felynes fleeing the southern menace and building a castle for the world to admire.

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Journal of Zurko “Wyvernsheart” Relicorgan, Expedition Leader of The Sabre of Whiteness
Uncertain Date, YoC 1050
I d'know how those damn greenies found us, but they did. We cut and ran, taking a wagon and what supplies we could.
Once, we were just a few felynes, stymed in our attempts at tradng by those idiot humans, who either thought we were kittens' tales or pets for their furless-kittens to dress up. Then, we decide to wander south, see if those few remaining ones who believe in us are interested in trade.
They ain't.
We were reminded by the arrows an' blades of those greenskins that there was a war on. Most of us were killed. Me an' six others escaped, then put together a “wagon,” collected what supplies an' animals we could, and tried to reach civilization.
We didn't.
Our makeshift wagon broke down for the third time, and this time we couldn't fix it. Despite the distant cries of hungry gravios, we decided to settle here.
It's about the New Year. Great for us, eh?
We got two dogs, two cats, two apceroces, a yak cow, a bull horse, some goose and turtle meat, several plump helmets, some toadstools, a couple valley herbs, assorted seeds, dwarven-style alcohol, a pick and an axe made of copper, av anvil (for some reason), some alpaca wool, three dwarf-import ropes made from pig tail fibers (I asked if they were made from the dwarves' own pig-tails, but got a confused look--must not have translated well), a few chestnut buckets, and seven able-bodied workers. Me, a bureaucrat and apprentice woodcutter, former member of a local militia (treasurer) and woodworker's guild (secretary), elected leader of this sorry enclave; Specut Pinestreasure, a wood- and stone-worker of good standing in his hometown; Ulde Ripevessels, a tailor and tinkerer who combined the two with devastating results; Niwir Basementsubmerge, a planter and weaver, who worked on a cotton farm before this disaster occurred; Bini Dancedpearl, a man of many talents who can smelt metal, turn a boulder into a few mugs, make a harp out of hornblende or a dactite drum, burn wood into stuff other than ashes, potterize with the best (his main profession before wandering the trade routes), repair a makeshift wagon (twice), and create a tune from a reed and two pebbles, plus play a mean game of Wyverns' Bones; and Hode Purplepanthers, a stonecarver of both descriptions who dyes her fur a deep lavender. We're here, on a flattish hilltop by a waterfall, preparing to, as the dwarves say, strike the earth.

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Oh, Armok, daemons. I hate them so much...I hope this doesn't turn out too bad. Actually, I didn't see them on the civ screen, so maybe I'm not screwed. Thank Armok.
The felyne civ I embarked as is at war with goblins, some of whom shoot obsidian webs. Yay crazy mods. Anyways, depending on how well I plan the defenses, I might actually be screwed.

Hmm, yeah.

Okay, I think I'll go with a surface Monster Hunter Universe fortress. I'll probably do some tinkering first. Expect an update ~tomorrow.

Well, recently a bunch of daemons (modded civ) attacked me before I was ready and invaded my combnation hospital/dormitory/meeting area, but aside from tame jabberers and GCSs sacrificing themselves while killing a daemon or two, nothing awesome happened. It was just a slaughter.

Does no one else have ideas, or is it just that no one else has read this?

Quote from: GreatWyrmGold on October 04, 2011, 09:47:49 pm

Quote from: NRDL on October 04, 2011, 01:19:51 am

That makes perfect sense.  Spartan Dwarven warriors, in order to prove their manhood, sacrifice the usage of one hand.  That way, if they survive a battle using their weapon in their left hand, they get more glory.

And if they discover that their opponent is a better warrior than they thought, they can simply switch back to their right hand! Of course, if said opponent is a swordsman who is dressed in a black mask, shirt, etc, there is always the possibility that he will not be left-handed either.

As to my dwarf's prefs, etc: Change the "bronze" in the original description to "copper" and it's just right, fitting with the prefs, and so on.

I'm not exactly sure that Princess bride reference will work...

And why not? I fail to see why a reference needs to have any direct relationship between the referenced material and the discussion.

Original Post:

Dawnstone is a community surface fort, my first community fort. Dawnstone I, my first attempt, ended badly. It used a modified version of the Monster Hunter Universe mod, and I am playing as felynes. Somewhat claustrophobic felynes. They have, because of a cryptic warning from their deceased expedition leader, forsaken the depths and chosen to build a fort entirely on the surface. They died anyways.

History of Dawnstone I
Felynes of Dawnstones I:

Dawnstone II, or Dawnstone as its inhabitants call it, uses the Fortress Defense mod and my modded version of DF. Similarly to the felynes of Dawnstone I, they follow the warning of their leader and choose to avoid the depths. May they fare better.


Dwarves:

Artifacts: