1 Slate
At last! The emissary from Her August Majesty arrived and notified that lout Skullsploder that *I* was the proper leader of this wretched band of ragamuffins! Well. I must be gracious to the little people; I suppose he did manage to get some rudimentary things built, but really, it won't do, it won't do at all. And this gardening fixation he has... well, the less said about that, the better. *I* will show Her Loveliness what beauty can be wrought, even in the snowy wastes!
Am I not the inventor of the Amazing Aboveground Well? The Waterfall Whimsy? The Magma Surprise? Was it not I, Iamblichos, who designed the legendary Hanging Gardens of Steamybellows? (I certainly had no way of knowing that the ugly little hole in the wall I used for draining the fountains was the only way in or out of the deep forges! Who would design such a thing? It was HIDEOUS. Important things should LOOK important.)
Sadly, in my meeting with the emissary upon my promotion, he informed me of the requirements. Some of them seem rather... odd, if I may say so, though I would certainly never question the wisdom of Her Supreme Beneficence, heavens no! Nevertheless, it will be a supreme challenge of my skills only to be permitted to harvest raw building materials from the second deep. Why, the miners assure me most of it is dirt! What can be built with DIRT? Nothing, that's what. I am also not permitted to build or farm below the earth; something about legal rights for any structures reverting to another kingdom... I didn't understand all the legalese, but it seems that we are leasing certain rights for the land that we are on from the humans of the Cunning Kingdom and anything we build below-ground becomes theirs according to the contract. Who would sign such a thing? The Queen must have been misled. Still, we will show the ceiling bangers! We will flourish and thrive, up here in the... sun and... sky... and... I need to go lie down.
***
2 Slate
Well, off to a remarkable start. When I left my meeting with the emissary, everyone was rushing around feverishly but NOTHING WAS GETTING DONE. In no particular order:
- Some dwarf was sitting in the crafting shop, a mad look on his face, shrieking to all and sundry about how he needed cloth, leather and bones;
- Walls were marked to be built all over the place, with no laborers;
- Big lumps of clay were everywhere;
- The settlement was a ridiculous tangle of "everything in a pile" stockpile; and
- More fields had been built than a mountainhome of 500 would require, mostly unplanted with no crops assigned.
Basically, it was the same disaster it had been a few days ago, but now I WAS IN CHARGE. It was MY disaster. Fine.
The cook ran past me at full tilt; I grabbed his arm. "Why aren't you cooking?"
"No time," he says breathlessly. "Must train!"
"Train?" This was a record; two sentences into the conversation and I was already lost.
"Skullsploder drafted me!" the cook grinned proudly. "He drafted EVERYONE."
What the...? "Excuse me?" The chaos continued unabated. "Erm... excuse me?" No reaction. "LISTEN UP!" Silence fell. "HOW MANY OF YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD YOU ARE NOW IN THE MILITARY?" Hands... a forest of hands. Even the frothing madman, possessed as he was, sheepishly raised a hand in the crafting workshop. Of the 19 dwarves, every single one was claiming to be the captain of their own squad of one. This was madness on the half shell, even by dwarven standards. "Those orders change now." I said firmly. "Unless you know how to use a weapon, stop this foolishness at once. You're all frantically busy but none of you are doing a damn thing! Melee soldiers... go train with Skull!" A few dwarves ran off. "The rest of you... DO YOUR REAL JOBS!"
I listened to the ravings of the madman in the crafting shop; we had no cloth, no thread, and no hope of giving him what he wanted. A quiet word with the mason had him making a stone coffin, albeit with a long face. We all knew how this was going to end.
***
Midsummer
I've been so busy, I haven't even had time to keep my journal up to date! Almost 40 dwarves showed up in the dead of night, swelling our ranks immensely. Meanwhile, the elves showed up and we had nothing (and I mean, NOTHING) to trade with them. I did what any responsible dwarf would do; I decided what I wanted from their traders and just took it. Filthy tree-dwelling vermin, be off with you! It was a welcome infusion of wood and cloth, along with some food, seeds and other items.
I was able to bring some life and color to the settlement with some elegant statues and custom flooring. I have placed various patterns around the fortress, though it is far too small and cramped for anything truly appropriate. Skull seemed to appreciate the new layout for his training area, with a rayed pattern of alternating clay loam and gabbro blocks, with some light willow logs for contrast. I also put appropriate statues in his area to make up for ruining his military plans... let's hope he likes them!
I also began the second floor, taking out a number of the fields which had nothing planted in them (really, I don't know who was supposed to farm all that!) and built a number of needed buildings; specifically a dining hall and dormitory. Why, dwarves were sleeping in the food stockpiles! It was horribly unsanitary. So that they wouldn't get too cross about not having their own rooms, I put alternating red and black striped flooring in. I also built a second floor on the dormitory and set up a clothing and leatherworking station with appropriate stockpiles; it's our very own garment district!
Another child lost his life to a possessing entity; it wanted cut gems, and there just weren't any. I wonder if there's any way to keep those malevolent spirits at bay... losing two dwarves to them really puts things in perspective. At any rate, again, it was hopeless... The gabbro I had mined out had no jewels of any kind. That child perished as well, after a prolonged and very noisy madness.
By the end of summer we had two more small migrant waves! I gave the miner a few apprentices after trading with the ceiling bangers... they had picks! By that point, I had the cook cranking out prepared food, so I was able to buy more food, some gear and assorted supplies. I need to go check out the new diorite deposits the miners have found! I wonder if there will be gems?
***
End of Year
Well, I meant to write in this journal again, and see what my good intentions come to... there's a lesson in that, I suppose. We have had two successful artifacts now, thank you very much! An alder crown worth some 30,000 DB, and a bone spear worth even more! Take that, critics! Here's the crown:
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And the spear, worth 34560!
I have built a very elegant retracting drawbridge over the entry path that Skull designed; it will retract when a lever is thrown, though I'm not sure that the mechanic got it all assembled correctly. I used it to set up an animal storage area, so they won't all be crowding up the main fort. Really, the sanitation conditions here are worse than Steamybellows, and I never thought I would say those words... dwarves are packed into this small fort like kobolds. We desperately need more room.
Now that I have a second floor on much of the fort, I have defined a larger food storage area with the kitchen in the center, with easy access from the dining hall; the cook is so happy he's now producing masterwork meals for everyone. I also had the jeweler construct his shop and gem stockpiles near the drawbridge. Now we can encrust all of our lavish furniture with even more lavish gems... all this lovely clear, yellow and brown zircon will complement the red and black floors perfectly! Oh, it makes me giddy.
By the time the caravan from the Mountainhalls arrived, I could hardly wait to show off my lovely new arrangements to the emissary from Her Royal Magnificence. I saw him examining the mayor's quarters, the new dining hall, the lovely floors everywhere... I just knew he would be so proud! I wonder if he's seen my... I mean, our, artifacts? I might even get made a baron! In fact, I expect he's going to promote me on the spot. How could he not? I need to run trade with the caravan, and I'll be right back! What does one wear to be promoted to the peerage? Oh, I'm so happy!
***
I see. I see how it is to be. That bitch. After all I did for her. Fine. The emissary informed me that I should transfer control to... to... to Snackfox. I'm not going to cry. I'm not! I'll... I suppose I'll just draw a map of the settlement for Snackfox, then. Here's the first floor:
Here's the second floor:
And here's the stocks:
Good luck. I'm done with this place. I think I'll join the next migrant wave out. Hmph. Ingrates.
==============
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Topic: Craftknives - Year 4 End - Death n' Death (Read 12453 times)