Dwarf Fortress > DF Community Games & Stories
[Community Fort] Workedwheel, Defense From the Undead Menace
lockman766:
I'll post the next doctors notes on the next update.
Gigmaster:
Sorry about the brief pause - outside life and D&D took center stage for a while. I have a bunch of material and pictures; I just need to sit down and write out everything.
Played up to the near-end of year two... after a giant dwarven accounting session, everyone's enlisted into the militia so that we don'h have giant work stoppages. Also, thank god for the Manager... (ended up putting in orders for like 200+ various pieces of armor and other clothing to get everyone outfitted). Thank god that the merchant caravan arrived with the leather I ordered...
Incidentally: does anyone know the effectiveness of leather vs cloth/wool/silk? Like if I were to, say, make leather cloaks instead of cloth. I know that the material of the shield/buckler doesn't matter, except for weight and bashing, but what about trousers, hoods, etc?
Gigmaster:
Smoth Udil stumbled back, clutching at the wound on his neck. It wasn't deep – just scratching the fat – but the surprise of finding two kobolds inside the fortress made him panic. He ran down the stairs of the fort, screaming about more invaders, and ended up nearly running into the second kobold instead, who took the opportunitty to try and stab Smith Udil in the side; it was pure luck that his cloak turned the dirty lizard's blade.
And pure luck that the first kobold thief stood up just in time to intercept the bolt flying from Parshuram's crossbow.
Meanwhile, the second thief was brutally shoving and kicking his way through the crowd of terrified turkeys, causing several of them to make a break for the front door. Then, without any warning, the terrified flock of fowl seemed to snap, as they turned on the kobold thief as one giant turkey-pile.
Parshuram would, several days later, describe the scene to an eager, and slightly scared audience:
“They just cornered the thing right in the middle of the front entry way. He kept on trying to free his arms to strike back, but turkeys were hanging off all over him. Fromt his hands, from his ears, from his bloody finger nails... “
“On occasion he would get in one weak stab or two, but every time he shook one off, there was another biting onto his skin, or pecking into his side, or ripping away little bits and pieces of him... “
((All that red around the cursor? That's all kobold blood being sprayed everywhere.))
“It was like they had tasted blood, and couldn't stop anymore. His friend tried to run over to help him even, but all he did was give me a clear shot at his back. He went down before he got a single stab in.”
“I seriously considered doing the same for his pal, just to put him out of his misery, but by that time... “ Parshuram shuddered. “He had already been tripped by an under-foot turkey, fallen down and swarmed over. After that, it didn't take long; and when the feathers had settled, when they turkey's had cleared out, to peck at the cave moss back in their pen area, only one living thing remained: the turkey who had pecked out the kobold's eyes and bruised his brain, still jabbing his little beak through the mangled corpse's eyesocket. I call him Tradedtattoos – the marks he left kind of looked like little T-shaped tattoos. No kidding.”
… “Incidentally Chef Dodo? we should really think about cooking up some of those turkeys. I don't fancy a rabid pack of birds eating me in my sleep.”
There were only a handful of minutes to gather up all the fleeing turkeys, and re-take the front doors, before Nix saw another cloud of Thrips coming from the west.
“Burn it all,” Gigmaster swore, “that's it. Everyone, get the hell inside; I've had enough of damn undead in one stinking month.”
Afterwards, all five turkeys left outside were quickly... assimilated... by the undead thrips, and wandered down south to join their undead breatheren.
Back in the barracks, most of the reminiscing dwarves had become drunk, sleeping dwarves. Only Gigmaster wavered on the point of passing out. As it was, he barely noticed the noise of approaching footsteps, until the foot belonging to the stepper kicked into his ribs. “Hey, big guy, beer still good and fresh? If you let it go flat without telling me... “
Gigmaster blinked. “Phones? … Phones! You're... walking', and talkin', and everything!”
“ … This is unusual?” He took a moment to bend over one of the barrels; his left arm was encased in some kind of white covering. On one side Gigmaster could blearily make out: “Get better soon! Onul Fleshyfortress.”
((Yes, that really is the name of your wife. No, I don't know how she got the nickname 'fleshyfortress,' apart from the... um, well, obvious ways. Yikes.))
Gigmaster considered this for a while. “Well.... yeash, it is. I mean... isn't there like a law, or somethin', that demands wounded dwarves to languish in bed for months?”
“Oh yeah.” Phones nodded. "Since ancient times. So it's a good thing Doc Bhaal got around to picking up some of that gypsum from the stocks. Arm might still be a little off balance, but it can hold a shield good 'nuff, and that's what matters.”
It took a moment for this to sink into Gigmaster's head. “Well. Well well. Damn! 's good news!”
Phones grinned. “I forgot, you guys are used to frontier medicine. Err, first aid. Err...... Anyways. You know how it is. Apparently Bhaal was trained right in the capital.”
Gigmaster gave an approving belch. “Good. Any update on Corai, then? I can't wait for a chance to... “
The happy light in Parshuram's eyes dimmed a little. “I'm... sorry Gig. He died of his wounds in the middle of the night. Infection, they say.”
The only sound in the silence was Gigmaster's teeth grinding together. Then, inch by inch, he relaxed. “Can't be helped, I guess. Make sure his armor's cleaned up and ready for use though. Tomorrow, we start work on the militia assignments, and I want a tally of everything we've got in Workedwheels.”
Parshuram nodded midway through taking a long drink from an upended barrel, which he tossed over his shoulder after finishing; the small explosion did nothing to wake the other Warriors currently passed out. “At least there's some good news you might want to hear.”
“What'z that?”
“Just thought you might want to know that the forge level's bringing some life too, Gig.”
Gigmaster suddenly found himself trying not to snuffle through his nose. Damn drinking always makes me tispy-swingy like this, inside... “That's... wonderful Par. Thanks. A lot.”
“Just as long as you don't think too hard on the fact that Bhaal and her hubby, Smith Erith, have apparently been on top of the anvils down there for months.”
… “What.”
Next couple of updates are going to be time lapsing a few things; mostly involving turning out all that damn armor, suiting everyone up, and finishing the above ground farming areas. If anything wants anything specific, or thinks there's something we really need, lemme know. At this point, I'm going to be starting above-ground construction on the main keep by winter, since we'll have a good 40+ dwarves with some military experience and armor we'll be able to field. (seriously, like every other migrant so far has had competent in a weapon skill and novice in like three other military skills).
lockman766:
Doctors notes
Entry three: Finally found that gypsum I've been looking for. Phones is up, and about against doctors orders, but I'm not going to stop the fool. That foolish husband of mine got stabbed(at least I think it was him let me know if I'm wrong). Oh I wish others could have seen it crying like a baby. Speaking of babies I've had a child he's a sweet little mite, he's a spiting image of his father(I'm assuming)well back to work.
Jarod Cain:
I suppose I'll take a speardwarf. Name them Cain.
-J-
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