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DF Community Games & Stories / Re: Deathgate - Götterdämmerung (Succession Game)
« on: September 02, 2012, 10:41:38 pm »
This is... absurdly long. I've summarized important events after the spoiler tags. Spoiler tags make what was already a lengthy read into an impossible one. Here's the summary:
TL:DR;
Zulban, our last skilled mechanic, died of thirst on 2 Granite. Nothing could have been done (and I tried). Some bright dwarf had stashed him behind the arena after he had his leg torn off by a ghost, and he'd been left there to rot.
To prevent further deaths of this sort, I've re-opened Lower Deathgate's hospital**, though I cannot figure out why it was closed in the first place.
There was an epidemic of sorts--a series of dwarves falling unconscious in the hall leading to the hospital. Further research suggests this is the same disease that caused the blistered feet, since the afflicted dwarves were unblistered before this, and their boots have finally worn out. Some of the children still haven't regained consciousness.
I've started work on an aqueduct to bring water directly from the aquifer. Ideally, I want to equalize the pressure using pumps, which would require drawing power from, and completing, the BATTERY. But I doubt I'll have time for that.
And all that pales in comparison to the murderous ghost of Upper Deathgate deciding he'd rather chill in our kitchens. The one Eldes could not find on the memorialize list, nor can I. The one who ripped off Zulban's leg and separated Tirist from his arm.
---------
Journal of Kogan "Irony II" Fikodavuz, Scribe of Deathgate, Assistant to Mayor Kosoth
23 Granite, 779
It's been a while since I wrote a proper entry in this. Not since I was promoted to Scribe, in fact. I have some time now, so I might as well record events as best I recall.
Meeting in the Mayor's Office: The State of the Fortress, and My Project
The evening of my promotion to scribe, the mayor called me into her office, and after small chat, leaned over the desk and fixed me with a stare both grave and weary. At the time, this seemed the most important moment of my life, so I memorized every word.
"As you know, we have spent much of the last few years moving from Upper Deathgate to this new outpost on the brink of Hell. This way, we hoped to focus our efforts on expanding into the Demon Realm, and ignore surface troubles. Let the goblins and Dreamroar's puppets kill each other over it."
At this she grabbed a stone mug from the desk and leaned back on her throne.
"Unfortunately, I fear now that our relocation was too hasty. Certainly we are better off down here, but a number of key aspects of the plan were left unfinished. And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost.
"For one thing, we are running low on booze. Plenty left for a few seasons, but without farms... you've seen the tree farm by the kitchen, yes? That wasn't actually supposed to be a tree farm. Still, in the grand scheme of things that's easy to remedy. What isn't so easy is the reason that tree farm only covers a quarter of the room built for it.
"In Upper Deathgate, we had no lack of water. The first cavern boasted a mighty lake, fed by distant underground rivers--virtually inexhaustible. Further, within the fortress proper we had access to an aquifer. But both of those are nearly 1000* steps above us, and while an aqueduct was built to bring water down from the cavern, it is both insecure and by now has likely been overgrown by trees, just as were earlier, less ambitious aqueducts, and the mighty BATTEREY.
"You see, Irony," here she paused and dipped a hand into her mug. When she brought it out, there was mud on her fingertips. "You see, we are running out of water. Just as with booze, we have enough for a few seasons, but I must plan beyond that.
"Normally, I'd have a mechanic, or an architect, deal with this, but our architects have all gone to join the ancestors, and I haven't seen our last mechanic, Zulban, in some time. However, perhaps where expertise has failed, raw creativity can find a solution.
"So, for your first official assignment, I want you to review the existing schematics,"--she pushed forward the pile of stone tablets and parchment scrolls on her desk--"and see if you can find a way to replenish our dwindling water reserves. Ideally make it so it never becomes an issue again, even if we dwell her another thousand years. You will find here the plans for the old water delivery systems, and maps of the caverns above.
"You should also ask after Zulban. I know he was injured in Upper Deathgate some months ago, but I never learned the exact nature of his condition. Perhaps the Mad Fool would know. If he is still with us, his expertise, such as it is, would be invaluable."
I gathered up the documents, and returned to my own, newly provided office. I spent the better part of the next day poring over them, and over a mug or ten.
-----
The Mechanic and The Hospital
I had just begun reading about a large hospital that had been constructed here, in Lower Deathgate, eleven years ago. And yet I, who had lived here my entire life, had never seen it. A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts.
Mayor Kosoth entered, looking grimmer than ever, and bade me accompany her. We descended to the Arena, and crossed to rooms I'd never visited before. The smell of urine and putrefaction wafted from within.
The Mad Fool, looking madder than ever, met us within.
"Well?" demanded Kosoth. "What happened to this dwarf? Why was he left here to die?"
I don't remember the Fool's response, as I was too distracted by the mangled body lying on a cot in the middle of the room. His flesh was pale, greenish, and drawn. His lips cracked, his eyes shut tight. His one leg--for he had only one, the other had been... cut? Torn? off at the hip--bent at a frightful angle. Death no longer held any terror for me, but the pain this poor dwarf must have endured...
"... a hospital to work in. Poor Zulban would not be lying here forgotten if I had a hospital."
The mention of a hospital brought me back to the mayor and the madman. I cleared my throat, and, encouraged by the expectant silence, mentioned the hospital I had discovered in the records. The Fool's eyes gleamed with ... greed... and other emotions I cannot name. Something briefly flashed in the mayor's eyes as well, but I could not place it before she smiled reassuringly.
"That, at least is settled. I'm afraid you won't be able to draw on Zulban's expertise for your project. He had a run in with a ghost in Upper Deathgate, and the fiend tore his entire leg from him. But he might have lived, if he hadn't been... dumped here to rot." I could see her trying to control her anger, a fist clenched at her side.
"Yes, yes, most unfortunate. Most unfortunate," babbled the fool.
We found that the hospital mentioned in the records** had, at some point, been locked up and walled off, though I could find no mention of why. Taking a break from tabletwork, I watched as the walls were torn down, and the door locks picked. At the first breath of stale air, I felt an inexplicable sense of foreboding. It smelled of a tomb, and something else I could not place. The Mad Fool and NRDL, last of the fort's medics, rushed past me bearing glow-lanterns, eager to plumb the darkness. Instead, I turned back and headed for the booze stocks.
-----
The Epidemic
On the way, I saw a child passed out in the stockpiles. I thought little of it then.
The next day, on some errand I can't recall, I saw the same child lying there, and another dwarf, Krosan, a marksdwarf, also lying in the same hallway.
More dwarves, both children and adults, began to fall unconscious in the hall, the same hall which led to the newly opened hospital. All three of the adults were Marksdwarves.
When I saw no one else step forward, I took it on myself to bear the child, who I now saw to be the one called Lashidang, to the hospital. Others followed my example, and some of the adults regained consciousness and made their own way there.
At first, gossip was that a new and terrible epidemic had broken loose, and that perhaps we would be joining the ancestors that much sooner... not that we hadn't already, since many of those very same ancestors still walked the halls.
When NRDL finally emerged, he quieted our fears. The afflicted dwarves had all been previously free of the demonic taint which the rest of us bore, as evidenced by the blisters on our feet. The symptoms now were the same as had afflicted the fortress when the taint first appeared. There was nothing to fear.
Now that I thought about it, I had myself experienced the same symptoms when my own taint manifested. How silly I had been. Still... the children seemed to be affected more severely than the adults.
-----
Aqueduct Redux
Meanwhile, my project was seeing some actual progress. In the schematics I discovered a third tunnel from the first cavern, as yet unused, and perfectly positioned to bring water down from the aquifer even further above. Care would need to be taken to avoid potentially unstoppable backflow, but I already had plans for mitigating the pressure. Even better, this third tunnel opened near the hospital, and so was perfectly positioned for filling up the dry wells and various showers and disease prevention mechanisms therein.
-----
The Killer Strikes Again
On the 20th of Granite, a scream echoed through the halls.
Tirist, a dwarf already frequently accosted and possessed by ghosts, was attacked by one, near the brewery and farms. The ghost literally ripped his lower arm off, and left it lying there in the hall. Blood had flown freely, and pooled all around the ghost, who now floated--no, stood--ominously in the hall, lost in some damned reverie. Tirist, surprisingly, did not go to the hospital. After most of the bleeding stopped, he simply got up, and went back to work.
No one in our records fits the description of this ghost. And since he is not particularly communicative, no one knows what name to memorialize, nor what body to bury. Even worse, the ghost himself appears... tainted. When one is not looking directly at him, shadows seem to bind his feet to the floor. His eyes burn. His skin--what can be seen, at least--looks cracked and burned. I've never seen a ghost so tormented. Or so deadly.
It was this ghost that rent Zulban's leg from him in Upper Deathgate. This ghost whose name cannot be found in any records. This ghost who now stands and waits... waits for what, I do not know, save that when it comes, death will not be far behind.
* Assuming ten steps per "level".
** I believe this is the structure built by Alex the Destroyer. It seems to have been largely ignored following his turn.
TL:DR;
Zulban, our last skilled mechanic, died of thirst on 2 Granite. Nothing could have been done (and I tried). Some bright dwarf had stashed him behind the arena after he had his leg torn off by a ghost, and he'd been left there to rot.
To prevent further deaths of this sort, I've re-opened Lower Deathgate's hospital**, though I cannot figure out why it was closed in the first place.
There was an epidemic of sorts--a series of dwarves falling unconscious in the hall leading to the hospital. Further research suggests this is the same disease that caused the blistered feet, since the afflicted dwarves were unblistered before this, and their boots have finally worn out. Some of the children still haven't regained consciousness.
I've started work on an aqueduct to bring water directly from the aquifer. Ideally, I want to equalize the pressure using pumps, which would require drawing power from, and completing, the BATTERY. But I doubt I'll have time for that.
And all that pales in comparison to the murderous ghost of Upper Deathgate deciding he'd rather chill in our kitchens. The one Eldes could not find on the memorialize list, nor can I. The one who ripped off Zulban's leg and separated Tirist from his arm.
---------
Journal of Kogan "Irony II" Fikodavuz, Scribe of Deathgate, Assistant to Mayor Kosoth
23 Granite, 779
It's been a while since I wrote a proper entry in this. Not since I was promoted to Scribe, in fact. I have some time now, so I might as well record events as best I recall.
Meeting in the Mayor's Office: The State of the Fortress, and My Project
The evening of my promotion to scribe, the mayor called me into her office, and after small chat, leaned over the desk and fixed me with a stare both grave and weary. At the time, this seemed the most important moment of my life, so I memorized every word.
"As you know, we have spent much of the last few years moving from Upper Deathgate to this new outpost on the brink of Hell. This way, we hoped to focus our efforts on expanding into the Demon Realm, and ignore surface troubles. Let the goblins and Dreamroar's puppets kill each other over it."
At this she grabbed a stone mug from the desk and leaned back on her throne.
"Unfortunately, I fear now that our relocation was too hasty. Certainly we are better off down here, but a number of key aspects of the plan were left unfinished. And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost.
"For one thing, we are running low on booze. Plenty left for a few seasons, but without farms... you've seen the tree farm by the kitchen, yes? That wasn't actually supposed to be a tree farm. Still, in the grand scheme of things that's easy to remedy. What isn't so easy is the reason that tree farm only covers a quarter of the room built for it.
"In Upper Deathgate, we had no lack of water. The first cavern boasted a mighty lake, fed by distant underground rivers--virtually inexhaustible. Further, within the fortress proper we had access to an aquifer. But both of those are nearly 1000* steps above us, and while an aqueduct was built to bring water down from the cavern, it is both insecure and by now has likely been overgrown by trees, just as were earlier, less ambitious aqueducts, and the mighty BATTEREY.
"You see, Irony," here she paused and dipped a hand into her mug. When she brought it out, there was mud on her fingertips. "You see, we are running out of water. Just as with booze, we have enough for a few seasons, but I must plan beyond that.
"Normally, I'd have a mechanic, or an architect, deal with this, but our architects have all gone to join the ancestors, and I haven't seen our last mechanic, Zulban, in some time. However, perhaps where expertise has failed, raw creativity can find a solution.
"So, for your first official assignment, I want you to review the existing schematics,"--she pushed forward the pile of stone tablets and parchment scrolls on her desk--"and see if you can find a way to replenish our dwindling water reserves. Ideally make it so it never becomes an issue again, even if we dwell her another thousand years. You will find here the plans for the old water delivery systems, and maps of the caverns above.
"You should also ask after Zulban. I know he was injured in Upper Deathgate some months ago, but I never learned the exact nature of his condition. Perhaps the Mad Fool would know. If he is still with us, his expertise, such as it is, would be invaluable."
I gathered up the documents, and returned to my own, newly provided office. I spent the better part of the next day poring over them, and over a mug or ten.
-----
The Mechanic and The Hospital
I had just begun reading about a large hospital that had been constructed here, in Lower Deathgate, eleven years ago. And yet I, who had lived here my entire life, had never seen it. A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts.
Mayor Kosoth entered, looking grimmer than ever, and bade me accompany her. We descended to the Arena, and crossed to rooms I'd never visited before. The smell of urine and putrefaction wafted from within.
The Mad Fool, looking madder than ever, met us within.
"Well?" demanded Kosoth. "What happened to this dwarf? Why was he left here to die?"
I don't remember the Fool's response, as I was too distracted by the mangled body lying on a cot in the middle of the room. His flesh was pale, greenish, and drawn. His lips cracked, his eyes shut tight. His one leg--for he had only one, the other had been... cut? Torn? off at the hip--bent at a frightful angle. Death no longer held any terror for me, but the pain this poor dwarf must have endured...
"... a hospital to work in. Poor Zulban would not be lying here forgotten if I had a hospital."
The mention of a hospital brought me back to the mayor and the madman. I cleared my throat, and, encouraged by the expectant silence, mentioned the hospital I had discovered in the records. The Fool's eyes gleamed with ... greed... and other emotions I cannot name. Something briefly flashed in the mayor's eyes as well, but I could not place it before she smiled reassuringly.
"That, at least is settled. I'm afraid you won't be able to draw on Zulban's expertise for your project. He had a run in with a ghost in Upper Deathgate, and the fiend tore his entire leg from him. But he might have lived, if he hadn't been... dumped here to rot." I could see her trying to control her anger, a fist clenched at her side.
"Yes, yes, most unfortunate. Most unfortunate," babbled the fool.
We found that the hospital mentioned in the records** had, at some point, been locked up and walled off, though I could find no mention of why. Taking a break from tabletwork, I watched as the walls were torn down, and the door locks picked. At the first breath of stale air, I felt an inexplicable sense of foreboding. It smelled of a tomb, and something else I could not place. The Mad Fool and NRDL, last of the fort's medics, rushed past me bearing glow-lanterns, eager to plumb the darkness. Instead, I turned back and headed for the booze stocks.
-----
The Epidemic
On the way, I saw a child passed out in the stockpiles. I thought little of it then.
The next day, on some errand I can't recall, I saw the same child lying there, and another dwarf, Krosan, a marksdwarf, also lying in the same hallway.
More dwarves, both children and adults, began to fall unconscious in the hall, the same hall which led to the newly opened hospital. All three of the adults were Marksdwarves.
When I saw no one else step forward, I took it on myself to bear the child, who I now saw to be the one called Lashidang, to the hospital. Others followed my example, and some of the adults regained consciousness and made their own way there.
At first, gossip was that a new and terrible epidemic had broken loose, and that perhaps we would be joining the ancestors that much sooner... not that we hadn't already, since many of those very same ancestors still walked the halls.
When NRDL finally emerged, he quieted our fears. The afflicted dwarves had all been previously free of the demonic taint which the rest of us bore, as evidenced by the blisters on our feet. The symptoms now were the same as had afflicted the fortress when the taint first appeared. There was nothing to fear.
Now that I thought about it, I had myself experienced the same symptoms when my own taint manifested. How silly I had been. Still... the children seemed to be affected more severely than the adults.
-----
Aqueduct Redux
Meanwhile, my project was seeing some actual progress. In the schematics I discovered a third tunnel from the first cavern, as yet unused, and perfectly positioned to bring water down from the aquifer even further above. Care would need to be taken to avoid potentially unstoppable backflow, but I already had plans for mitigating the pressure. Even better, this third tunnel opened near the hospital, and so was perfectly positioned for filling up the dry wells and various showers and disease prevention mechanisms therein.
-----
The Killer Strikes Again
On the 20th of Granite, a scream echoed through the halls.
Tirist, a dwarf already frequently accosted and possessed by ghosts, was attacked by one, near the brewery and farms. The ghost literally ripped his lower arm off, and left it lying there in the hall. Blood had flown freely, and pooled all around the ghost, who now floated--no, stood--ominously in the hall, lost in some damned reverie. Tirist, surprisingly, did not go to the hospital. After most of the bleeding stopped, he simply got up, and went back to work.
No one in our records fits the description of this ghost. And since he is not particularly communicative, no one knows what name to memorialize, nor what body to bury. Even worse, the ghost himself appears... tainted. When one is not looking directly at him, shadows seem to bind his feet to the floor. His eyes burn. His skin--what can be seen, at least--looks cracked and burned. I've never seen a ghost so tormented. Or so deadly.
It was this ghost that rent Zulban's leg from him in Upper Deathgate. This ghost whose name cannot be found in any records. This ghost who now stands and waits... waits for what, I do not know, save that when it comes, death will not be far behind.
* Assuming ten steps per "level".
** I believe this is the structure built by Alex the Destroyer. It seems to have been largely ignored following his turn.
