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An Excerpt from the Journal of 'EvilFuzzy' Fidalecana:

[The date is blotted out by a large blood-stain]

'Dear journal,

"I fear."

It has been so long since last I uttered such words, or even heard them uttered by my brothers and sisters. In this, an age of war and terror, driven from our ancestral lands by the Goblins, the Ulire-methi, we cannot afford to falter or dread. And yet, 'fear' is the only way to describe the atmosphere that has descended over the encampment.

For as long as we elves have walked this world, there have been those few among us blessed (or perhaps cursed...?) by Her with prophetic visions to ensure the survival of our people in a world dominated by those who would seek to do ill to us and our cotenants, both plant and beast. And never in these two-thousand years have we once neglected to do our sacred duty to take up arms against those who left such destruction in their wake as do the Goblin hordes. But so many of us have died in faithful service to Her that we are now to few to even defend ourselves, let alone the flora and fauna of the world. Our need is become great, and we are forced to take the lives of our brothers and sisters because of it.

And I, a loyal servant of Her, have taken upon myself the horrible burden of butchering our fellow beast, taking to the flesh of innocent beasts this set of holy knives which have passed down in my family since time immemorial -- knives shaped from the hallowed true metal in the blood of the earth by a wizened dwarven smith at the commission of my great grandmother for the sacred ritual of purifying the flesh of those who defile nature, that it may strengthen us with the power of our enemies' life-force.

Every day that I must sully these consecrated tools with the blood of innocents, I pray to Her for the forgiveness of my ancestors, for so many among us have spoken of terrible visions that I fear we may not be much longer for this world. In a single year, in just this camp, our kind have experienced more prophetic dreams than in all of the previous two thousand years combined, and they almost all share the same themes: disaster and mourning, madness and bloodshed -- things that could-have-been, and things that may-yet-come-to-pass. We have always placed our faith in Ri-[the ink is badly smudged in this spot¹]-a, but these visions have filled so many of us with dread that some among us have begun to express doubt... and even I, one who is well-versed in the ways of the druid, fear that unless things change drastically, we will be wiped from the face of the world by the seemingly inexhaustible military might of the goblin nations. Indeed, in a moment of great weakness during the  attack, I was sorely tempted to turn the edges of my cacame-ceta and my one-ceta, my skinning and boning knives, upon those unforgivable Ulire-methi. But I resisted the urge, for to sully these blades with blood shed in violence would be an unforgivable act of blasphemy.

I only hope that our new leader will be able to lead us wisely... '

[The remainder of the entry is illegible, with a number of bloodstains and missing pages]


(I hope I didn't steal your thunder or anything, bowie.)

[Edit: Minor grammar fixes.]

Looks like a gay Hank Hill.

9/10

... GODDAMMIT, NOW I CAN'T UNSEE IT!

Also, 9/10 because he/she looks quite pleased with hirself.

Just be aware, while the hunting skill is enabled, your hunter will sleep on the ground and drink water.  This can sour his mood pretty quick, so regularly take your hunters off-duty for a while.

That's funny, I never noticed that, but I usually take 'em off duty periodically anyways, since a high level hunter can easily create a massive backlog in meat, skin, fat, and bone processing very quickly.

It's where the dorf's brain switches from analytical thinking to experiential thinking - not going berserk, but going into the zone. Like using the sharingan, except not nearly as cheap.

Quote from: EvilFuzzy9 on January 31, 2011, 11:07:35 pm

We must mount a rescue operation to save Amala! Not only is she our leader - she has boobs. And a name. And is a hardcore no-nonsense experienced badass. This automatically makes her fifty times more important than any other elf in the caravan, and second only to Princess(?) Ima in terms of popularity.

And I, for one, am willing to throw worthless fodder-elves at the frogmen until either Amala is rescued or we are all dead. Because without any women this story would get very awkward very quickly.

Amala may have mammalry glands... Or those may in fact be Murder-Someone-Every-Time-Something-Stupid-Is-Suggested Glands.
On a simmilar note, remember that time we tried to arouse her? Good times.

Maybe so, but they still look like boobs. And that's all the motivation needed.

With that said, it was indeed hilarious when that happened. 

Quote from: EvilFuzzy9 on January 31, 2011, 11:07:35 pm

Redundancy redacted.

No, we need our fodder elfs, we started with 60, now we have like 30. At this rate (especially with rash tactics) we might run out of elves.

Whoah, I think that might just be the first time that anyone on these forums has ever used this phrase.

But, all kidding aside, you make a good point. Especially since these elves seem to die even more easily than most. So, maybe instead of mounting a rescue operation, we should leave Amala behind and continue onwards. Then, after she wakes up and murders the frogmen, she will realize that we abandoned her and proceed to go Rambo on our asses, hunting us down and killing us one by one until only Valo remains. The two will then make furious, sweaty elf-love atop the corpses of their fellow elves fight to the death.

... Actually, now that I think about it, that would be awesome. Let's do it. 

A baby is fine. The probably-not-even-conceived-yet Fuzzybeard shall be a loyal member of the royal family, destined to either a life of thankless labor in the shadow of hir siblings, or a glorious life as key player in the next generation of Blockedlance. Or die horribly and ignobly in Ragnarok.

Also, if there is no way to make Urist a part of her civ again, then I shall vote that you save scum. I must admit that, as a relative newcomer to DF, my knowledge concerning 40d is anecdotal in nature and largely incomplete, so I am unsure as to whether or not Urist would even eat or drink after being de-berserk'd if she's being considered an enemy of her civ. If that is the case, then savescumming may be the only answer, unless you don't mind Queen Empress Urist dying of starvation. But, as I said, 40d is not within my realm of experience, so the situation may be salvageable as is. 

So yeah, my vote is essentially "maybe savescum if you want to or it is necessary".

Baroness "Steel Kogsak" of Weakenedsack gave birth to a third daughter while in a coma. The baby then proceeded to crawl away from her insensate mother and explore the fortress. I gave her the custom profession name of Rugrat, and let her do as she pleased.

After a few weeks, the baby died of thirst.

Aside from that, I've been expanding the outer walls since I haven't had any sieges in while.

A look at the above ground defensive layout:
[Note: The relative lack of blood coating the earth is due to me periodically using DF Clean Map to improve my FPS.]

Weakenedsack is struck by tragedy once more! After the most recent werewolf siege left, I opened the front gates (two drawbridges with a 'U'-shaped passage between them) to let in some new migrants (many of whom I had just drafted to better fill out the fort's militia), only for a demon ambush party to descend upon my front courtyard-slash-dungeon (they had actually appeared when I was playing last night, having been revealed by an orcish caravan -- poor not-japan bastards). They were met by my baroness who gave them a customary dwarven greeting of bashing their faces in with her sun gold crossbow. She managed to hold them off long enough for the militia to arrive and deal with the problem, but this victory was pyrrhic at best: the second infant daughter of the baroness (a shroom dwarfette) was killed in the preliminary stages of the fight, and good old Steel Kogsak received many grievous injuries before being knocked into a murky pool. Luckily, I was able to channel her a way out of it, and she managed to crawl out and come to rest on dry land. However, even with medical treatment and the incredible vitality of a steel dwarf, it is unlikely that she will ever walk again.

And what was the baroness doing up top when those demons came calling in the first place?

"Looking for infant"  ... ... x 100.