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Author Topic: Whisperwhip: a megabeast steakhouse (Circus Edition)  (Read 70878 times)

Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and bolt stockpiling
« Reply #30 on: October 27, 2014, 04:19:23 pm »

CHAPTER 20: The first Grand Meeting
Summer of 111

The last spring concluded with terrible news, but also the completion of a prized artifact. A truly astonishing mug in all truth, for it is made with high quality zircons and other precious minerals, and sculpted skillfully. As a professional broker, I am stunned to appraise it's value to about a hundred thousand golden dwarbucks. The outpost liason is equally impressed, and reiterates on his previous cryptic comments on ''making much progress''.

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After only 6 months of being a barony, he declares Whisperwhip to now be a county, despite having claimed no land during this period, gained a negative increase in population, and accomplished no work except for a mug. But dwarven society being as dependend on alcohol, a good mug crafted near the right person is all you need to get ahead in life.

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I immediately call a meeting, and am joined by the mayor, the bronze general, the outpost liason, and Tun the now Count. Reforms are in order. (and savannah summers are cooler down here than on the surface) It's a miracle that the Wilted Sack as survived as a government so far, but bumps and flaws are starting to appear in our management. reforms are in order. All sectors shall be scrutinised, from the lax military to the poitless crafting of leather icons, to the general infrasructure of the fort. We are now a metropolis, and changes are needed to avoid becoming a Necropolis.

Looking at our surplus, I notice that most of our wealth is made from architecture and ''other objects', namely prepared food. we have a ton of food, but I refuse to stop producing more. While we have more than enough longland beer, variety is the spice of life, and a legendary meal with just the right ingredients for the right dwarf is what prevented many tantrums and suicides in time of tragedy. Banquets are a great way to keep the civilians from going batshit and questioning the usefulness of living here. The engravings and statues filling most of the well-travelled areas also help brighten the mood.

While whisperwhip is almost irreversely messed up in terms of administration, there are still tweaks we can do. the main issue is that total reforms are out of the way, for we have neither time nor manpower to fix most problems. This is why i came to dismiss most good solutions as GIZIPs (great idea, Zero implementation potential).

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Tun, anouncing that a higher title means higher status, declares that his new, less than 6 months old room, is no longer suiting for his need. He now need more space, better furniture, and possibly servants. Oh by Kadol, foolish count, do you realise I chose you solely to act as a puppet while I keep this place alive? your pretention and requests are seriously hurting our ressource management right now!

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But tun is not nearly finished. He wants querns. Of course he does. A county is much bigger than a barony he says, obvlivious to the fact that civic titles are in no way lonked to the actual groth of this particular fort. So we need more querns. Make sure we have plenty, he says. ''And dont export them!'' he adds before leaving mid-meeting, to admire his existing querns. I write down a note to the haulers, asking them to fill his room with whatever crap they may find thats useless and pricey. And I DO mean ''fill'', every single space in Tun's chamber shall be stuffed with statues and piles of chairs. If he gets stuck in there, all the better.

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Next up is army management. everyone agrees that the current schedules are outdated now that the caverns are open and exploited. The old model relied on 6 squads alternating between guarding the outside walls, training, and peventing crime within the fort (read: dingo murdering duty). But adding a third burrow to the list changed everything, because this third burrow is REALLY deeper than the rest of the base, and people have to cross 2 series of thin, overly crowded bridges. Whenever a unit received an order, it usually meant that there would be a week period before it could unmobilise and return to the next job.

This new model takes into account all that, as well as the strenght and weaknesses of the specific squads. The ferocious tools are the most hardcore troops, and the General lead them himself. The turquoise of hair are equally mighty. Training wont do much for them, much less than live battle at this point, so training to them is downed to 2 months a year, and they shall spend the rest of the year with 8/10 squaddies on their task. For the Ferocious tools, this mean the wall. for the turquoise of Hair, it means permanent residence below, in BASE1. The Inky lure and the contest of fortifying are also rather experienced, and will each support one location, making sure that their months of training are distanced from those of the squad they support.

finally, the 2 newest squads are not as battle-hardened as their comrades. As such, they shall spend half their time training in the barracks, and alternate the rest patrolling the fort's interior for crimes and mostly crazy dingos. Should the need arise, they can be mobilised either against a great beast below, or a siege outside.

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Next point: Wood. we now have a large stockpile, but it will be consumed quickly. Orders for ash and charcoal are added, as well as copper doors to reinforce BASE1's infrastructure. We have 260 bars of copper, migh as well use them. The woodcutters inform me that while they are doing well in the cavern, mushroom are getting harder and harder to get by, and they are now venturing farther from BASE1 in order to get logs. Once the current stockpile is depleted, we may have to venture outside, by deploying the 2 mobile squads as escort.

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I look at the current work orders with the manager. Some dwarves are working on leather crafts, rock crafts, leather sewing, and that simply wont do. We have a year's worth of those things stockpiled and we dont even have the haulers to bring them outside for trade. All crafting of useless, non-statue goods is now discontinued until further notice. The exception is red Zircon, of which we have 60 raw samples. Our gemcutter is an oddity in that he actually specialsed in one craft, and instead of having him haul shirts, I decide to let him work his trade. Zircons sell really well, and are useful for artifacts and encrusting on items, should a certain noble or sad civilian require fancier furniture to remain non-murderous.

I also order a silver chest for Tun, since 2 simply wont be enough to store all his kids. Bolts are due too. coppr coins, not so much, but Metalcrafting is a job i want trained, and it's cheaper than statues to own our metalworkers' skills. I notice we have some tallow left, which may be coming from all those butchered dingos, so soap is added to the list of things we need. The hospital is low on it. finally, we never have too many statues, now that nobles want supercrypts. The civilians are also wandering a much larger area than before, so many statues are needed to keep their workplace tastefully arranged. Most of the population comes from a gigantic family of 37 that arrived after the skypig civil war, and they have about 20 more children now. Death or kidnapping of these children puts a heavy strain on the mood of everyone.

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The kitchen maisma is still an active problem, and we finally locate the cause: the old dumpatorium is full, and people still havent dug the new wing for it, which result in corpses and chopped bits left to rot in the butcher shops. No new constructions are to be designated until this project is complete: the health and mood of our foodmakers depend on it.

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Our own crypts are starting to be filled as well. They can hardly be excavated further without hitting sand or an aquafier, and building a new crypt from scratch is a GIZIP, so instead we'll have to retrofit another part of the old quarries. South of the new 9and yet unused) workshop district is a potential section that could be tweaked into hosting statues and coffins without too much work.

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I change the design of the entrance room to be larger, with room on both side for some fancy statues. The whole area wont be smoothed and engraved yet, but I want some space ready to put coffins once new dwarves start kicking the bucket.

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Next, the miners bring up the terrifying beast Purerisks, so aplty named for her ability to threathen and scare the cavern workers shitless. she could probably be killed by the milicia, but Purerisks the cave crocodile wont come out of her shelter when squads are stationed. By now, the miners theorise, she must be growing hungry and restless once more. thankfully they have a plan.

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First they want to dig a tunnel from the southern acces to BASE1's lower chamber. this should be alligned with the area below where Purerisks made her lair...

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then they intend to build platforms alongside the upper section of the underground river, 3 floors above the water itself. They will then dig out the two pillars next to the last section of flooring, and detach it from the main bridge, resulting on tiles dropping down on Purerisks. This is a retarded plan, and the beast may very well move away or relocate before it's complete. however, I allow them, since they'll never get to it anyway. normally I'd be scared of opening another way into the caverns, but anything that could use this tunnel most likely flies, and the bridge from the first entrance wouldnt stop it anyway. Plus, this tunnel is small and can easily be blocked by installing a door at then end to hold monsters while we seal the entrance.

This is not the safest nor soundest idea, but at least it's cheap, and any plan to neutralise Purerisks is better than none at this point. I wish the miners luck and send them on their way, just as the meeting is interupted by reports of an attack

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A snatcher dared to attack the fort headfirst, and charged at a child. thankfully, the child was propelled backward wthout any real injury before the milicia managed to shoot down the goblin. The council nods in agreement, our new schedule has certainly solved part of the milicia goofiness.

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A young teenager claims he just turned 16, and asks for a chance to join the meeting in the meeting hall (traditionally forbidden to children). He is allowed in, and congratulated on his willingness to take and active role in the fort.

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Noises from the outside once more. this time I'm told it's nothing important, as ''it's just an eagle that went wild and snatched a turkey on his way to Vegas''. apparently the idea of being a father was too much to bear.

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Next point, the cavern themselves. The leader of the Turquoise of hair mentionned that his men came across a crundle, whatever that is. He insists that his squad be allowed to scout the upper cavern layers and map them out, and his request is granted. the Inky lure shall take over the defense of BASE1 while they explore.

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The animal trainers are next. they claim that kitten population are getting out of hand. The Chief Ragdoll engineer (also called a doctor) makes a proposal. they are low on soap, and high on kittens, he's certain people wouldn't mind if the next litters were turned into soap bars. What a beautiful solution, we'd be selling rich women their own cat asses back to them.

The council meeting is almost over. The various leaders, as well as the citizen who chose to speactate, are rather pleased with the amount of work done today. However, a new diplomat is about to join us. Technically only resident of the dwrven civilisation known as the Wilted Sack may partake in Whisperwhip's gatherings (A decision i just made up, just like i just declared this morning that administrative gatherings were a thing0. However, exceptions can always be made. The outpost liason from the citadel of clutches is one of them.

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...The ancient god of WAR, MURDER and BLOOD is another one.
« Last Edit: October 27, 2014, 04:22:02 pm by Taupe »
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0rion

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and bolt stockpiling
« Reply #31 on: October 27, 2014, 06:14:24 pm »

Awesome ! By the way, do you let members to take on the role of dwarves within the fortress ? I mean just to name them from our wishes ? I would like so much to see a little Orion enforcing your militia :D
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Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and bolt stockpiling
« Reply #32 on: October 27, 2014, 11:25:35 pm »

Quote
Awesome ! By the way, do you let members to take on the role of dwarves within the fortress ? I mean just to name them from our wishes ? I would like so much to see a little Orion enforcing your militia

i don't see why not. I'm in the process of naming a few dwarves with custom professions, since ''Nish the 17th'' makes for bad storytelling. Do you have any preferences for your miliciadwarf? Because we have 58, and they all essentially ignore their primary weapon to bash people in the face with palm crosbows.

Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and bolt stockpiling
« Reply #33 on: October 28, 2014, 01:35:08 am »

CHAPTER 21: Gods of Blood and bling
Mid-summer, 111

My name is Dumas Constructmirrored. 14 years ago, the queen of the citadel of Crutches send us to the northern continent, where the goblins of the passionate sins waged war on the elven nations, who had united against the tyranny of the Lavender empire, of human descent. No dwarven presence survived in the north, and thus it was impossible to know what was the Lavender humans up to. Their imperialistic ways had conquered, slain and enslaved one of the elven tribes, but many more had united against the oppressor.

Our mission was apparently crucial, according to her royal highness, and we were to learn more about the so called Lavender empress, a godess in her own right, if she was to be believed. but soon we found ourselves crushed by titans and flooded by goblins, and political concerns were forgotten in favor of a more noble and immediate mission: survival.

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Yet, by some strange twist of events, a godess walks among us, deity of wealth, blood, war and murder. Quula Danaslismu, as the humans who whorshipper her call her. The main nations of the Lavender empire have a queen still, vestiges of a time before their imperialism, but for 11 years and 7 months now, Quula has been acting as their supreme leader. I can tell you that because our calendar is based on the day a god walked among men and rallied them behind her guidance, promising wealth and glory for bloodshed. And so in the year 4 her dreaded tower was erected, which can be seen in the distance from the highest tower of fort Boltstorm (new name for the fort, btw). by the year 41, all the opposing kings were slain and their people turned into labor, and thus the promise made by Quula was fullfilled, as free labor and thus prosperity for humans was made possible by the slaughter of nations the continent over.

Nobody is sure why the war started. human caravaneers claimed that it was the elves who insulted them greatly, while some elves still dare whisper that quula is not whom she claims, and actually something much sinister. If some humans dared to think so themselves, they probably remained quiet, or were dealt with swiftly. So who is this creature that masquerades as quula, godess of the humans, according to the elves?

Ukas Archescort, the ferocious Nails, the mightiest and most notable Archfiend to ever escape the underworld in the time before days. Ukas is generally known for essentially ''inventing evil on earth'' as well as writting the first 8 foul and unholy books that gave the mortal races the gift of necromancy and dark magics. So what became of Ukas Archescort exactly? Well, let's try to find out. Is quula a genuine human deity, or the Archfiend Ukas?

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First, we notice that the creature is wearing 5 pieces of jewelry all built from teeth and nails taken from fallen elven kings. Obviously Quula could have a fetish for dead people parts, but then again Ukas' title is ''the ferocious Nails'' which sort of fit into the whole ''wearing the nails of your slain enemies as decorations.

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While the nail part is nothing conclusive, we get another good clue by looking at Quula herself. According to human myths, Quula was a woman clad of blood and wearing a giant sword, clearly human. However, the Quula before us is, well, a fiendish giraffe, which strongly point toward her secretly being UKAS ARCHESCORT, THE FEROCIOUS NAILS, GIRAFFE FIEND.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKTc8Chvw5k
Now i could go on lenghts about why the humans (and now us dwarves) decided to roll with the lie and not point out that Quula looked nothing like she did in the ancient texts, but instead I'll just say that the scene above probably wouldn't have taken place if Cersei Lanister was a Pit Fiend. while sheer terror should make it easy not to spoil our knowledge of her real identity, things are gonna become rather awkward when we visit the castle, and we point out that she looks nothing like the giraffe fiend of legend engraved everywhere on our walls, depicted killing elves.

But the real disconcerting thing here is Ukas Quula's description, next to her appearance, a mere ''she is weak''. This is of course referencing her general health, not her ability to raise hordes of fallen abominations, yet it strikes me as incredibly offputting. That's something I can associate with a mother worried about her daughter who just entered college, or tabloids about Angelina Jolie, but i have a hard time imagining that when Morgoth invented Evil and declared war on everything ever, the first reaction of the elven lords would be ''Oh, morgoth, yes. He looked thinner lately. Has he been eating properly?''

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Well, here she comes, a towering giraffe strolling through our main gate, stopping to examine our copper statues. Why is one of them depicting a giraffe fiend? Oh that's hum, Ukas Archescort, a local legend Archfiend known for slaughtering and enslaving elves. you wouldn't know him. He's also on our coin, and on every wall, not that you could see that with all the blood. Do you hum, like the whole blood everywhere? Quula, godess of bloods nods silently.

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Her first stop is, obviously, to inspect the proper weight and size of our coins, as well as the general competence of the metalworker minting said coins. Quula is also the godess of wealth, lest you forget. So blood and murder are great, but proper economic implementation of currency shouldn't be neglected. yaknow what they say, the devil is in the details, especially in whisperwhip where the details of our coin is actually the devil herself.

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Uk...QUULA then goes to visit the main barracks, because barracks are cool when you are the deity of war. I guess sieges are also cool, but not as much as weapon racks and tables. by the way, 130 goblins are now outside our walls. Yaknow, like every season.

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Blessed and Holy Quula then ventures upward to meet the mayor in his personal chambers, while her two blackguards wait outside.

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The mayor is done talking, and is very fatigued. He asks if that's okay. quul stares at him ominously with her glowing, fiendish holy eyes and says nothing. The mayor bundles up in his bed while quula and her two bodyguards wearing full-plate stare at him without flinching. The mayor apparently didnt ask them to leave the room, but frankly, would YOU end a meeting with the god of murder saying you need some personal space?

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While this is all going on, i would like to remind you that the biggest siege ever is taking place, this time with two elite archers on the enemy side. enemy archers strongly counter our general strategy, which is to have ranged attacks while the enemy doesnt. Thankfully, the first archer is taken down before he can launch a single arrow. take that, lower-ground dweller!

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A troll punches a new hole in the gemcutter's head, which result in a net balance of zero gemcutters in Whisperwhip. the peasant from the reunion is still around, and i congratulate him in his new future carrier, as unexpected openings have just appeared in the wonderful world of gem-crafts.

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Once i'm fairly sure that the god of blood will be staring at our mayor for a long-ass time, i decide to actually pay attention to the second greatest threath to the fortress. Reports ae grim: not only have the goblins gathered around the fort faster than they usally do, there is also a lot of them. Orders are to stay up and shoot as many as possible, then we'll try to start defending the entrances and falling back inside once the trolls destroy the door.

However, a troll decides to topple a silver statue of Limul the god of minerals. Usually trolls topple statues of random deities, or oftentimes statues of me (then vomit on it), but now they have desecrated our holy decorations. It's personal.

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At least it is for tosid. Tosid is like, really into the worship of Limul. While the others are shooting goblins, she decide to charge outside and drop her weapon, and start to grapple and bash stragglers of the goblin army that ventured southeast.

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As if her devotion and fury were aknowledged by the gods, a mighty and rare Martial trance is bestowed upon Tosid to aid his divinely-fueled fury. Limul is watching over him.

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Tosid was never the most remarkable fighter of our army, but her divine mandate is fueling her with a might that can only be described as awe-inspiring. Mere death is too good for profanators, and so she jumps on the goblins one by one and cave all their organs in one by one. In her blood-soaked murderhobbo epiphany, she kills 4 invaders, including the troll tat started it all.

A dark thought crosses my mind. Tosid god angry, and his desire for killing and warring was answered by a divine force. Some would assume Limul, but i can't shake off the feeling that quula is behind all this...

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As if reading my thoughts, Quula appears from the shadow and says that we have much to discuss...

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Behind me, a cook announces that all these events gave him the inspiration to create something... unique. He vanishes from society and claims a leather workshop. As I turn back to answer Quula, she is already gone. what did you want to talk about, exactly? About how you may be behind all those sieges to create a mighty undead army? About how you are testing our wealth and military while planning an invasion? Or is it about the mind control of our mayor and soldier?

Quula is clearly dangerous, but I cannot let anyone know what i suspect. not unless I have proof. Telling people that a demon is slowly taking over the mind of our citizen would cause the kind of panic that tends to end forts. Instead, I congratulate Tosid for his devotion, and as summer starts to cool off into autumn, I decide to hold a ceremony to our holy champion, and bestow upon him a personal title.

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Wear it proudly, Tosid. For in time, dwarvs like you may be the only thing standing between whisperwhip and true Evil...
« Last Edit: October 28, 2014, 01:37:59 am by Taupe »
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Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and deicide
« Reply #34 on: October 28, 2014, 06:16:28 am »

CHAPTER 22: Cripple, bastards, and bloated things
Autumn of 111

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Sometimes, it doesn't take much to put chains of event in motion. In this case, it's a pair of cat leather sandals, completed shortly after the great siege of summer. A record number of goblins were murdered, and that means two things: 1-dead goblins wont be able to regroup and lay another siege next season (maybe?) and 2- a fuckton of cloths. I don't like to see troops fighting outside the walls toe to toe, mostly because of this whole dying horribly notion, but we need to crush a siege or two each other year if we are to remain clothed. And it,s about damn time, because our clothes are almost done for. Everyone is now allowed to go outside, dresses and trousers are now unforbidden, and this day becomes a celebration day for the wilted Sack, which i name Clothswitch Day. It's like christmas, except not every year and instead of a decorated tree you get your presents from a bloodied corpse. also said present is goblin underwear. But hey, if you heard that the place is ever at war and almost ended because of a pig, then congratulation, citizen, you most likely dont have high life expectations.

Rejoice, Clothswitch Day is upon us! It's the holyday you never knew you always wanted, because prolongated disregard for your basic needs has eroded your psyche into a barren and withered prune. But hey, sock, man.

Now, if socks are the shizzle drizzle, then surely an artifact pair of sandals is the drizzliest of them all. Whoemever gets to wear them will certainly be the happiest dwarf ever.

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And boy oh boy, when it comes to being unhappy, Kikrost Lesastas is the unhappiest of them all. Remember when a guy got injured for some reason (i'm guessing a dingo?) and refused to go to the hospital, instead choosing to hide in the alcohol stockpile? Well, turns out his health quality has increased exactly none since then. He cannot stand, nor can he grasp, and he usually ends up sleeping in a dark corner, because feeding and helping the disabled is simply not how dwarven society functions.

Now, the simplest solution would be for kikrost to accept medical treatment, but that's also not the easiest. That would be complaining. Usually I'd mark the guy for dead and let him rot, because seriously fuck you Kikrost, but he also happen to have 10 sibblings, 32 cousins, and as many nephews and nieces. People refuse to hep him around but you can bet they'll call it a tragedy, then promptly ump from the highest tower. as little as i may like it, kikrost has to become a productive and satisfied dwarven citizen. Otherwise his tantruming death may bring forth the end of our fortress. As long as Quula the Blood God walks among us, we must be extra careful not to let morale drop.

It's a good thing I noticed kikrost's descend to unhappydom when i did. Thank you, wonderful sandals. I'm so glad I let the doctor murder all those kittens for you. I'm also glad about the schedule reform, since both spare squads have an empty spot, and they aren,t our first line of defense against anything. they mostly just sit around the base and tell dingos not to go berserk. Kikrost could do that. I enroll him in the lowliest rank of the milicia, and assign him an uniform that includes the Sandals. Out of 59 members of our army, kikrost is occupying position 60.

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you can tell this is going to not work when instead of pcking up his sandals, Kikrost throws a tantrum in the crypts. Thankfully, he is unable to reach anyone, and then cancels starting a fisticuff with the ambient air because he is too injured. eventually, he stops being such a baby. Cripples are prone to tantrum, but hey, they aren,t exactly destructive.

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Speaking of babies, Count Tun wants a new quern. No, Tun, i wont trade this one either. But just in case he mandates an export ban, and I must spend the rest of the day on this pointless paperwork. I also order more junk stashed in his room because he's still not entirely satisfied.

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Soon as im done stamping the 5th ban on quern export in half a year, Kikrost is back to tantruming. He still hasn't picked up any equipment, instead spending his guard duty hiding in a faraway corner of the abandonned quarry and guarding it. Ironically, in doing so, he has caused 1005 of the crimes commited in this section of the fort.

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Your help could be needed THERE, kikrost, where a wild dingo attacked a blackguard! Thankfully, Quula wasnt around at the time. diplomatic incidents are super tricky and disastrous, and for some reason, I don't think the inventor of evil is known for her forgiving and carefree nature.

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Quula, since she mentionned we needed to talk then vanished, has been following the mayor around while he relentlessly stores goblins in a jail and then set up more cages to catch more POW. Since i'm busy finding a cure for the hugebitch syndrom, I told the mayor to keep the Godess of blood busy, and he's doing a great job at it. He's nimble where she is not, and as a result she spends most of the month chasing slowly behind him. good! every day she fills by savannah treking behind a lunatic engineer is a day she isnt orchestrating our demise. I still give a quatuor of war dogs to our elected leader just in case.

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I double-check the hospital to make sure we have everything. yup, the chief Ragdoll engineer reassures me that we have all the required goods, thanks to dissolving baby animals into cleaning supplies and sandals. While he cannot examine Kikrost personally because kikrost doesn't believe in medicine, the doctor's initial diagnosis is that our cripple suffers from a stage 3 hugebitch syndrom. Sadly it's uncurable.

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Maybe dogs will make him hapy? I give kikrost two war dogs, and he goes back to his guarding spot. it seem to work for a time...

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...But then kikrost remember he hates not having shoes, and he also hates picking up the artifact shoes I designated for him, and he goes back to being the saddest thing ever. He tantrums, but he is driven into submission by his own dog.

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suddenly we have a much bigger fish to fry. A new forgotten beast has emerged from the caverns, and thankfully it's also made of water. unthankfully, it's also emanating deadly vapors. also also unthankfully, it's going to hide in those same rock formations his unevolved brethren Bosda used.


ARTIST RENDITION

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Within seconds of its sighting, Mup the Epurator of Superfluous Nicknames leaps into the wetworks, and starts to cross the river.

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It emerges very close to where we fought off Bosda, and the battle will take place on the same landmass it seems. The place still hasnt been excavated to give us clear shots, thanks to Whisperwhip's nagatively unparalleled efficiency. Same bat time, same bat channel, and same deadly vapors that will poison our milicia if the beast isnt killed the instant it emerges...

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...which is exactly what happens! A single arrow! Or bolt rather.

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It leaves behind a recursive cube of water, contained infinitely within itself. We dwarves invented the 'dump'' and the Atom smasher, so this physical oddity is a well understood phenomenom that occurs naturally whenever physics call in sick.

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I look at the track record of the shooter, and find 3 grizzli bears, a minotaur and now a forgotten beast.

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Because murdering giant beasts for a living is kind of impressive, I bestow another custom title upon the huntress. ''Olin Reborn'' sounds nifty, but a water goo and a minotaur is not 3 titans... and Olin reborn could have a negative conotation with a necromantic murdergod lurking in our dinning hall. Instead I opt for Beastslayer.

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Speaking of beast-slaying, it seems the contraption to eliminate Purerisks the crocodile has progressed!

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The miners were not exacltly stealthy however, and the week-long anging of iron against stone warned Purerisks of our little operation. Is she cunning enough to understand what we plan, or is she just annoyed by the noise? The question remained unanswered. with the creature moving again, operation Whatever-it-was-called is put on hiatus.

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After a few days, our stockpiles of logs dwindles once more. It's obvious that the mushroom trees are not growing as fast as our numerous 2 living woodcutters can harvest them, and our luxurious use of wood for statues may soon come to an halt (gasp!). I decide to prioritize potash because assuming we won't end up besieged forever at some point would be rather optimistic of me. However, specialised squads means that we can dispatch team 5 and 6 outside to supervise the woodcutters while they gather some surface trees. the recent siege was freshly splattered around Blood Valley, and most of the population is currently outside partaking in clothswitch Day, so a couple more dudes working outside won't really make a difference.

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As soon as we open the doors, a new goblin thief shows up. Dogs, however, are now breeding like rabbits and a bunch of them honor their slain ancestors by grappling and murdering the thief at the bottom of Dogshatter Hill.

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With Purerisk hidding further east now, I decide to designate the Beastslayer Basin as a fishing area.

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As news of a wood shortage reaches the end of the production line, I am reminded of kikrost and his epic unhappyness. I'm unsure of what's more impressive: that he hasn't snapped for good yet, or that he STILL HASNT PICKED UP HIS SANDALS FFS KIKROST !!!

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Miasmic clouds are another source of unhappyness, thankfully some miner-mason-crafters decided to excavate the new dumpatorium's wing after they celebrated Clothswitch Day. Hauling of our entirely too numerous skeletons and carcasses may now begin! migh as well do that now while hundreds of goblins are temporarily absent from the landscape.

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A tribe of grey langurs ambush the corpse hauler from atop the hill. The battle report is short, as various soldiers decide to hunt the beasts on their own. Those stupid monkeys don't get to run away with our troll mutilated arms, ha!

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West of Ol' Whisperwhip, a trap is triggered by a goblin snatcher. His six buddies are unimpressed by his Perception and disable device rolls, as they resulted in the party being spotted.

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Using advanced goblin communion, another group of goblins have 1/7th of their numbers caught by a cage trap, this time to the northwest. One squad is taken from the walls to deal with them, squad e is sent to dispatch the previous party, and because slowly learning is apparently a thing, i order squad f to move south, and patrol, protecting the working haulers from being ambusher by potentially more goblins.

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aww shit, things are getting ugly! The dwarven caravan is arriving from the northwest for some reason, just as the surrounding goblins are making their move.

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All this commotion and excitement is too much for this young pregnant woman, and a baby is born amidst the chaos, and more specifically amidst the first floor of the Food Tower. notice all those fancy place names? that's because a County has to include plenty of land, even if these lands are just random shit I spontaneously named and capitalised. Go, civilisation!

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The squad i ordered to attack the northwestern goblins is distracted by more snatchers, and this dwarven woman is the only one to face the 6 invaders equiped with bows. She's doing a good job at fending them off tho. A gruesome, needlesly violent job too. She has a shield and a mace too, and a crosbow, but I've included the highlights of her unarmed prowess above because this girl has issues.

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That's the doctor's wife, too, but that's not the most outstanding part of her bio. no, that would be the fact that she arrived in 100, prior to the civil war. at this point we had no doctor, which mean that she and her husband were one of the incredibly few, if only, non-noble and non-military dwarves to outlast the skypig crysis. I decide to confront the doctor about it... One does not simply bite off a lung, or punch a titan to death casually.

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After a long talk, the doctor admits that he came to this remote location to complete his experiments, of which his wife was the primary test subject. He has injected her with troll blood over the course of many years, making her mightier than any dwarf has a right to be. When he saw that the results were astonishing, he started dilluting pooring vials of the substance upstream, so that the troops would slowly toughen.

''Why do you think we still live? Honor, training? Courage perhaps? It certainly isnt top-notch equipment, I'll tell you that! No, it's science that's keeping us alive, keeping our soldiers in shape and making them UNSTOPPABLE!!!''
-Is science also responsible for a superpowered crocodile, and sentient blobs of evil coming from the exact same area the troll blood has been leaking into?
-Well, hum... Maybe? By which i mean absolutely yes?

I promise to not spoil his implications in the superbeast incidents, if he agrees to help me stop Quula. He agrees that letting the soldiers slip into madness would be very, very bad for the health of the fortress. I also need him to look deeper into Ukas Archescort the ferocious Nails. Is it a god or a demon? Or both? what kind of weapon hold the power to harm him? Can we drown or crush or melt the bitch down into a solid block of silver? can she read our minds as we speak, effectively boning whisperwhip to certain doom, in which case blah blah blah i love oranges, think about oranges, don't think about her!

With the doctor on my side, i finally have an ally in this fight against encroaching darkness.
« Last Edit: November 21, 2014, 03:00:29 am by Taupe »
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0rion

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and bolt stockpiling
« Reply #35 on: October 28, 2014, 04:41:30 pm »

Quote
Awesome ! By the way, do you let members to take on the role of dwarves within the fortress ? I mean just to name them from our wishes ? I would like so much to see a little Orion enforcing your militia

i don't see why not. I'm in the process of naming a few dwarves with custom professions, since ''Nish the 17th'' makes for bad storytelling. Do you have any preferences for your miliciadwarf? Because we have 58, and they all essentially ignore their primary weapon to bash people in the face with palm crosbows.

Great ! I don't mind, just make him male with some melee weapon and it should be fine to me :)
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Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and deicide
« Reply #36 on: October 28, 2014, 06:56:36 pm »

CHAPTER 23: Terrible trading
End of Autumn 111

Whisperwhip is essentially a SNAFU. Many forces of evil are threatening to destroy us at any time, yet life continues in those remote northern halls flooded with food and blood. As much as i would like to concentrate my efforts on project Deicide, my attention is hijacked by various other problems in the fort. Brace yourself, snatchers are coming

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The mayor has been hard at work distracting Quula, but also installing traps around. Our POW numbers are now close to 24, even counting the arious escapemurders of half a dozen captives last week. The ''Project'' would be great if it was finished, but slaughter-based entertainment is not as much a priority as avoiding total anihilation. Hop to the jail you go, little bitch!

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This brave lion protected the corpse haulers from being slaughtered. Lions are now the official animal of Clothswitch Day.

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Altho cheetahs would be a close second, since 3 cubs were born right after the latest ambushes. With a baby and 3 felines, we actually managed to survive a skirmish with MORE citizen than we started with.

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Kikrost is still a bitch tho, and throws what has to be his fifth tantrum by now. right now he's shown as very unhappy, but once he stops doing what he likes best (tantruming) he'll go back to being utterly miserable.

...which prompt him to tantrum again soon after. He is joined in his murderous fit by, guess whom, a dingo.

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Here's your fucking problem, kikrost: you haven,t picked up a single piece of your uniform, which would solve ALL your misfortunes. so would going to the hospital. Yet you insist we do this the hard way. do people get negative thoughs if a dwarf ''disapears''? I'm starting to ponder that solution, and realise that this place is slowly turning me into a sociopathic dictator.

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Someone's not following basic instructions again. This hauler just dropped a troll body in the cloth stockpile instead of separating the troll and his vestments. Bonus points for creative thinking, but you lose them back for setting up a miasma cloud in the children dorm.

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Spoiler (click to show/hide)
This reminds me tho, that we have two new adult dwarves, and they need their own bedrooms. The housing paperwork is lazy at best, so i must visit each room manually to see if people are still living there. I finally locate exactly two rooms near the main hall that are free, thanks to their previous owners dying for their nation while gathering wood and corpses.

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Those are the only two free rooms, tho. It seems that the next children will have to go live in BASE1, since digging up new room is a GIZIP. I don't mind, for two reasons: 1-Our work focus is slowly shifting toward the cavern, with such concepts as metalworking almost repeatedly becoming a thing we do. 2-Having two distinct housing and work centers is going to be great at containing the future civil collapses of our metropolis.

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I'm told the merchants are ready to trade, but I decide to ignore them for a week of nonstop drinking. I take a mental note to avoid planting and hauling for the time being, so I don,t get distracted by those tasks once i stop being drunk.

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There are many things we want. Wood, Metal, various types of fish and cheese, plus meat nd exotic liquor... we don't produce any powder for our castings so that would be good, throw in all your sugar and seeds, plus those cool steel breastplates for our milicia. Oh, and we'll take all the bolts obviously. the total is over 35 thousand dwarfbucks, which is more than our incredible supply of crafts, dirty clothes and gems accounts for after a year of commercial abstinence.

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Something is wrong, tho, as we only have 4k in crafts, and 3k in clothing. Where is the rest? The workers haven't touched it yet. I am made a fool in front of the mountainhome traders. I clear most of our initial purchase, and settle for only wood and a bit of casting powder and cheese. Over the next month the workers would bring in a few more clothing and crafting crates, but never enough to actually purchase more than a few barrels of food. I cancel the jobs to carry stuff to the depot after that, since the lack of dedication makes it a waste of time.

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The haulers are instead filling the eastern dumpatorium with various corpses and humanoid bits. Already the place reeks of death and miasma, as it should. The amount of corpses we seem to have lying around is somewhat disconcerting, tho.

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to further humiliate us in front of our mountainhomes brethren, a caravan guard spot a goblin snatcher and does him in with a single shot. In comparison, our war-trained marksdwarves usually spend half a quiver each to kill such a creature.

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Meanwhile, kikrost has finally become happy again. for some reason he stopped complaining about clothes and shoes, despite having picked up none of them yet. sooner or later he may become and issue again, but for now it seems he will restrain from tantruming
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the sandals made for kikrost may never be put to use, but the guy who did them certainly will. Greaves and leggings is something that nobody short of a few high ranking officials have access to. With a legendary leatherworker, tho we can amass enough high-quality leather leggings to suit every soldier, providing aditional happyness and defense. We have a full floor occupied by nothing but 3600 pieces of leather, so I don't care how much they cost. We'll make leatherpants our primary export if need be.

The outdoor adventures were prolific for our woodcutters, and we are back at temporarily owning logs. I order beds to fill the BASE1 chambers, as well as copper cages, which i could not aquire from the caravan this year because laziness. Ash, Potash, Bolts and charcoal are included in the mix. The doors arent new, people just havent made them in 5 months.

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I take a final look at our ledgers. Our wealth is increasing steadily. Quula may be a terrible thing, but her presence on the continent did bring us both blood and wealth... She has been here for two seasons now, and shows no sign of leaving, or actually getting any diplomacy done with our officials. In fact, I'm not sure what prompted her to show up. We became a barony in autumn, then a county as spring began, and only dwarves show up in these seasons. Is it the barony title or the county one? Or did she came here of her own, with some dark agenda?

One thing is sure tho. Quula, aka Ukas Archescort the Ferocious Nails giraffe fiend, has to go, one way or another...
« Last Edit: October 28, 2014, 07:05:14 pm by Taupe »
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Immortal-D

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and deicide
« Reply #37 on: October 28, 2014, 08:06:30 pm »

Altho cheetahs would be a close second, since 3 cubs were born right after the latest ambushes. With a baby and 3 felines, we actually managed to survive a skirmish with MORE citizen than we started with.
A new personal best for Whisperwhip :P

Zorromorph

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and deicide
« Reply #38 on: October 30, 2014, 12:07:43 am »

The stories of Quula and Kikrost continue the masterwork quality of this thread! 
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Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and deicide
« Reply #39 on: October 30, 2014, 02:21:26 am »

CHAPTER 24: Beauty and the Beasts
End of 111

As the year come to a close, so too does the training of various animals.

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Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Ablel the proud lioness served us valliantly for over 2 years, but lions are not dwarf, and underground life takes it's toll on the psyche of a savannah beast. she finally snaps, and her glorious days are put to an end as her blood splatters all over the cavern entrance, a strange match to the red zircon deposits ornating most of BASE1's walls. Ablel is the first great cat, but many more are to come...

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This one decides to go rogue while keeping watch over her owner. The macedwarf quickly reacts, grabbing a named weapon of some sort. In a drunken stupor, he clubs his prized cougar repeatedly before fleeing the scene. the cougar give chase, but soon collapses.

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And this one tries to swallow an entire cat, which ends as badly as you'd expect for the cat. That's two less cheetahs watching over our workers once the guards show up.

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twenty-six (!!!!) dwarves and pets show up to stomp on the carcass of the cougar, before a butcher decides that this is enough. He grabs the tenderized remains and drag it to the miasma factory kitchens. the assembled stompers remain there for aproximately 2 weeks.

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upstairs, an eagle goes batshit before the animal trainer can finalise the class on ''not going batshit during class''.

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Spoiler (click to show/hide)
The middle of he inner court is a terrible spot in which to start an uprising against your dwarven masters, because it is overwatched by a minimum of 16 of those said dwarven masters. they all have crosbows and have killed hordes of goblins with them. A mere eagle is no match for them, and the bird is dispatched within seconds. Orion is the one to score the killing bolt. He's a speardwarf, one of the few members of the milicia who decided to actually train with his given weapon instead of bashing people with his wooden crossbow. Good job, Orion!

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The young speardwarf mentions that some members of the milicia haven't had a tomb designated in the milicia crypts yet. I spend 30 minutes browsing unending lists of names and titles and finally solve this issue. Now you guys can die in peace!

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Unlike most of our enemies, who usually die in pieces, before being thrown in the dumpatorium. It's eastern wing is now half full, after ony a month of completion. dead stuff truly is our greatest natural ressource! (Yes, the dingos are a close second)

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The eagle's last words were ''flee... my brothers... be free!'' the bird's astonishingly high charisma prompts another bird to escape. 5 dogs jump on it, already alert and mobilised by the first affront. A third eagle discovers that he is to be a father, and promptly commit suicide by crossbow.

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A few chicks reach maturity. I order the males to be turned into delicious chicken stew, for we lack the space to feed so many friggin new birds.

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We made terrible mistakes trying to train every animal ever, but at least our knowledge of animal husbandry has improved on many fronts. Tigers and lions, those fierce beasts, I totally get: we've spent two years coexisting peacefully with them.  Gray langurs, tho, are more puzzling as caugh one and only one, and that was yeaterday. the trainers haven't even looked at it yet. I guess it came with a ''Langurs for dummies'' book hidden in it's ass.

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We've had enough fucking incidents for now. I look at our ledgers: ''9 new dingos captured''. Enough is enough. Slaughter them all. Thanks to our newfound knowledge, i know that training dingos is a mistake, for the only way to win is not to play.

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Just like the lion, this underground eagle just wont have it anymore. He rebels! He should have consulted a map before going commando, for the bird soon start wandering the distillery randomly. Spoiler, he dies.

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Kikrost is another kind of caged and sad bird. He is now spending his days with the milicia, training in the barracks, but because he is the worst person ever, nobody likes him. kikrost made zero friends since he was drafted, because he complains constantly. here's a typical conversation:
-i fucking hate those injuries!
-Why will you not go to the hospital, Kikrost? it's right there across the hall, i could take you there...
-FUCK YOU CUNT!

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Right in front of that exact barrack where Kikrost and his friends affiliated soldiers are sparring, a Troll escapes the disused assassination range, by breaking apart his cage and smashing the door. an entire squad greets him as he crosses the second door. Goodnight, mister troll.

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At least SOME people in this fort have more initiative than this huge crippled bitch. Sakzul the crafter just claimed a workshop, insisting that he be left alone while he works on the greatest item the fort will ever know.

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Speaking of artistic endeavor, some more statues are fresh out of the forges to distract from the troll massacre that just took place further west on this floor, I install four of them around the staircase. This is a well-traveled area, and those awesome new sculptures should brighten the mood of our citizens. Assuming they love traction benches as much as i do. (who doesn't?) One of them depict an elf eating a human in the war against Quula, and I'm starting to question the sanity of the people involved in this fabled ''Battle of Shocks''.

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Quula herself is still around tho. The new year is finally here, and she has been with us for four seasons. Yet during those twelve months, she has not said anything important, merely alluding that important things were at sake. Why do you haunt us, Archfiend of blood, First spawn of the underworld? What brings you to Whisperwhip?

Quula gives no answers, for she vanishes mysteriously whenever i approach her. But forgotten beasts have started appearing right around her arrival, and now most of our trained animals are going insane. Coincidence? I would love to think so, but as time passes and bloodshed intensifies, I have a harder and harder time believing Quula's innocence. Little do I know, I would know her true purpose sooner than i expect it.

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Foreshadowing is fun, but being able to navigate the caverns is even more FUN. Work begins on a bridge to the other side of the river, from the old Olmmen lair. There is no direct route, so a two-part bridge it shall be.

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The craftdwarf Sakzul has now completed his work, more ornate than a bridge, but also much less useful. I'm not sure how this all fits on a single ring, altho once again spatial redundancy is a well documented concept for dwarves, and humans alike, for legends talk of the legendary hero Vanok, who could carry 500 chunks of meet in his offhand.

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Sakzul tells me that while in the workshops, he heard the complains of our metalworkers, working with little charcoal to produce an ever-increasing amount of goods. to lighten their workload, (and also because some civilians have gone idle) I order the populace to run outside and fetch the bolts lying around, so we don't have to craft so many new ones.

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''The count, Sakzul adds, was also complaining about a special request. He said he wants...
-Yes. Let me guess. he wants QUERNS?
-Indeed. I'll get right to it, sir''

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Spoiler (click to show/hide)
More idlers is usually an indicator that progress has been made. Tun's room is finally enlarged. The engravers did a marvelous job of decorating the place with masterwork pieces of sculpture, altho there seems to be a greater facination than before for the Archfiend Ukas Archescort, and the devouring of people. Aside those I show here, there are 2 more depiction of Quula's true persona, and 3 more of dudes getting eaten by elves. I cannot spare the dwarfpower to dismantle all the furnitures and relocate them alongside this new wall. I know of a better way to use this newfound space...

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Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Move ALL the fucking querns in there. I don't care that they ae poor quality, or mismatched, or crowded, or redundant. i want them gone from our stockpile.

''Hey, Tun, good news! Your querns are ready!
-Good, Dumas, good. But make sure that YOU DO NOT EXPORT THEM UNDER ANY PRETENSE!
-Yeah, hum, about that. I heard that erh... some guys wanted to steal the querns. So I moved them all. Into your room.
-Oh.
-Well, it was the only way to keep them safe from, erh, crime I guess. Please remain in your room until further notice. to watch over the querns.
-I... well if that's the only way to keep our querns save, i will.
-And hum, make sure that you are CONSTNANTLY using them to mill some grain. To make sure they work.
-Ludicrous! i am a count, i will not work!
-Our querns are our pride and identity! how can we define ourselves as a nation if we don't ensure that our querns are the best?
-Oh, well when you put it like that. I'll do my best!
-Good, now i must BY ARMOK WHAT IS THAT SMELL

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Spoiler (click to show/hide)
My good lord, the stench is unbearable, and it's coming from the kitchens again. When I said to butcher those dingos, it was also implied that someone should MOVE the food to some barrels and the rest of the carcass to the dumpatorium! Bloody Quula I swear our workers are getting worse by the minute.

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Good grief, it's a siege. Just, hum, tell people to go back inside i guess. Between our milicia and the mountainhome guards hanging near our entrance, I don't even bother taking a look at our attackers. A few days later, i notice we no longer are under siege, and forget that people are technically hiding in the dinning hall. ''Wow, so many idlers, I think, surely all the work around is finally complete!'' Not realising that this sudden influx of free dwarves is caused by OMGWTF still in effect, I order the guys to go outside and unforbid ALL the shields and weapons lying around. big mistake. now we won't see most of the population for a year...

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Our personal record of casualty is matched, with another birth during the outdoor massacre. I guess people are so used to death that they casually chug out babies whenever goblins show up to keep the population up. Truly, the dwarven reproduction system is unmatched in it's adaptability.

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However, pigs were sort of slaughtered (and fell down the river, as pigs are prone to do) when two trolls showed up on the eastern bank of the river. Now i wont have to wonder how many i should butcher :/. (Oh and spoiler, the trolls die)

With that siege crushed, the caravan packs up and leave for the mountainhome. The outpost liason, however, has some news for us. Just something minor. within two years the queen will arrive, for she is to declare whisperwhip her capital. Why would she EVER come here, of all place? The outpost liason has seen this hellhole for himself, the constant violence, the sieges, the blood and the dismembered dog squadrons. Why would the queen EVER think this is what a capital should look like? And that's discounting the fact that all the other cities in the Citadel of clutches are grouped together on another continent.

-Wait, disregard all that. Don't we need to like, make offering to the mountainhomes to be elligible as a capital? We never... we never gave any riches to you merchants
-Oh, but you did. remember in 105, after the great wars, when you told us to just ''take all those stupid rags for free, they were taking space and you'd get them back from the next siege?''
-Scrap clothes. We met the incredible offering threshold with DIRTY BLOODIED RAGS?!?
-Yes, the queen is ever so grateful for those boatsfull of used dirty trousers. she will be leaving soon, so make sure her quarters are ready.

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I have no suitable location I can dig for new grandiose quarters, nor do I have the workers to do so. The upper floors are as big as they could get without hitting sand, the middle floors are next to an aquafier, and the bottom floors are either too remote or too remote AND filled with deadly caverns. There is one area tho, that would fir perfectly. The one i planned to use as the new crypt. It's cloe to everything, yet remote enough that the queen wont be sleeping next to say, Kikrost. And it's spacious enough to host a throne room, flanked by a royale bedroom and a dinning hall. we'll just have to find someplace else for the crypts...

Wait...

Just as I'm thinking of a new crypt location, it hits me. Suddenly, everything makes sence. If the rumors are true, and i now believe they are, then I know why the queen is coming, for it is the same reason she sent me here 15 years ago, the same reason that now haunts this very halls with her gloomy presence.

Quula. The queen is coming for Quula, also known as Uks Archescort, the Ferocious Nails, creator of all black magic, Giraffe fiend, spawn of the underworld, slayer of kings, enslaver of nations, goddess of blood and murder. That's why the deity has been lurking here, ominously, for over 13 months now, waiting, without saying a word. She is waiting for the queen. For the monarch of the Citadel of Clutches is no ordinary dwarf...

She is a necromancer.

Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and deicide
« Reply #40 on: October 31, 2014, 03:48:52 am »

CHAPTER 25: Uninvited guests
Late spring, 112

Necromantic armies aside, the arrival of the queen is gigantic news for this fortress. The solidification of Whisperwhip as the capital is, to our population, the ultimate reward for their sacrifices. Many have died, and countless more were injured, or sacrificed their passions in the name of duty and survival, yet today, the fort celebrate! The Queen herself salutes our stalward defense of this blood-soaked hill, and shall soon bless us with her presence. Once we were mere migrants, stuck in the far north, but within two years, the dwarves of this fort will call themselves citizen of the capital!

I almost let the celebrate by letting them pick up non-torn clothes from the freshly defeated siege, but restrain myself. There is a fuckton of work to be done... And many more guests to entertain before the queen herself arrives.

The elves come first, yet we have no time to spare them. I order the wood around the depot to be chopped down while the tree-lovers are stationned here, to show them we mean business. Yeah bitches, we be cutting trees. Are you mad about it? Quula the goddess of blood, scourge is inside taking complains. They catch my drift, and depart soon after.

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Alas, Rifi the forgotten beast shows up in the caverns. A towering mastodont, made of filth and dirt, drags his weight southward with alarming speed. Troops are dispatched. This one, like the others, has deadly vapors, or so our limited knowledge of it says. Unlike the previous invaders, it is NOT made of water.

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Be it a grace or a curse, the bridge (s) crossing the underground river is complete, yet unwired. We have no way of retracting it. Our troops can get across, but so can the gruesome Rifi.

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It matters not: rifi is a good swimmer, and decides that the underwater highway is the best way to go. Troops are disoatched to the (now partially cleared) landmass to the east, while 2 more squads are sent across the bridge, to cut Rifi's escape.

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Rifi is about to emerge eastward. our troops are standing ready, but they have little space to shoot him until he fully lands.

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...and soon, the fight is upon us. Onol os the first to run out of bolts and charge at the beast, getting caught in the boiling vapors exuming from Rifi's mouth, a foul extract that thankfully doesn't seem to affect our fighters much.

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Rifi himself is litterally swimming in the thing, now covered head to heels in his own forgotten beast extract. like our dwarves, he doesn't seem to care much. What does it do? nobody knows. The milicia was trained in stabbing, not biology. But they understand enough of the later to notice that bolts don't seem to affect the monster at all. Shots simply brush off, or lodge themselves in his massive and bloated body without inflincting an urist of damage. we're going to need a LOT more guys to finish this. Fuck the wall, this asshole is going down tonight!

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Hearing cruesome screams coming from the mine, this dwarf do the maths and figure out that hiding in a workshop is the best way to stay out of harms way. he retreats from society, soon to emerge with an ill-omened artifact...

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Meanwhile the general is bringing in the big guns, which are actually very similar in size to all our other guns, for we loot everything we have from goblins. Surely, damage is happening. On both sides. some dwarves get their hands smashed and their faces lacerated, but captain Mistem of the Squeezing Walls is able to stab the creature deeply with her sword, twisting it violently. Now Rifi is ondulating rhytmically to the beat of the captain's sword. The soldiers jump on the monster at once, breaking its teeth and fracturing its legs with brutal swings of their maces and crossbows.

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A baffling shot from a crossbow is finally enough to take the whole head of and send it flying. I guess they DID bring in the big guns.

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With this tenacious aberration out of the way, the alarm is removed and all the dwarves can fly back to their tasks, of which they now have plenty. Two wood furnaces are installed in the inner courtyard, next to the second wood stockpile. We'll need more than two if we are to produce ash for the fields and enough charcoal to outfit the queen's quarters. They have been smoother and engraved, but i decide that the left area is silly for a bedroom. it looks a bit too big, the columns are blocking the use of walls for cabinets, and it has no doors. Instead I change it to a mausoleum, for the queen and all other monarchs of the citadel of clutches to come (and die horribly). South of the throne room is where her chambers shall be.

Our metalworkers (singular) should now have enough charcoal to work with. We'll need to smelt tetrahidrate for more silver statues, first. Then a throne of the most marvelous kind we have available: rose gold, a metal both rich and harmonised with the rutile walls of the monarch's quarters. We won't have neary enough silver to make more than statues, so I place orders for 15 copper tables, 32 copper thrones, and about 10 armor and weapon racks of the sae material, to outfit her personal guard. As i return from the depths to survey the wood-burning process, a rotting smell catches my nose...

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At first i think of the kitchen again, but I locate the origin of the smell within the hospital. did someone leave food to rot in there? that sound unlikely. does it mean that a soldier died?

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By Armok, if only! death would be a mercy on the dwarf I find inside, the hammer lord onol, serving under captain Mistem.

''I've found out what the fuss Rifi's breath was about, the Doctor informs me.
-By Kadol, what happened down there?
-Necrosis! A foul extract indeed, that was. I'm afraid not even the troll blood running in this soldier's vein was able to counteract it.
-Necrosis? Will you need to amputate? Will she be alright?
-Amputate? My brave dumas we don't have enough knives on this continent to amputate THAT. The whole body is rotting, all at once. Any flesh will soon be dead. Hell, her friggin eyes fell off already!
-...''

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''See for yourself...'' He adds, removing the blanket covering Onol's... body? Corpse? I pull it back. The sight is sickening, the smell more so.
-How many more?

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-Two more, that i know of. They are being dragged here as we speak. They weren't really hard to notice, with the whole ''eyes falling off'' thing.
-Can... can they make it?
-I... I can try something. It may be able to scarrify the flesh and stop the infection. The flesh will never grow back tho. If i act quick enough i can probably save the vital tissues and muscles. The flesh will be gone tho, and they'll know a life of pain. And blindness, obviously.

The doctor gives me the unusual task to sneak into the jail tower, and bring back blood from the trolls. A strange endeavor, but vital to stopping the curse eating away at our soldiers. Thankfully I'm able to get in and out without too much hussle, since the wall is deserted at the time. Once the blood is delivered,  I venture down, to make sure Rifi's body is handled carefully. we don't want any more infected dwarves...

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The carcass is being hauld at a snail's pace toward the surface. for reasons known only to her, Quula has deserted the mayor's side to delve deep within the fort, observing Rifi's remains in silence.  did she know the forgotten beast personally? Does she revels in its demise, or mourn the slaughter of this roaming horror? The giraffe fiend betrays no emotion, starring eerily at the haulers as they cross the bridge.

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Quula continues her descent, tailed by her two bodyguards. Her destination is the caverns entrance, where she stands for what seems like forever, before heading back to the surface. In a year, Quula has never left the confort of our main fortress. Yet the death of Rifi compelled her to the dark below. Unsurprisingly, the godess of death and blood remains an enigma. A disquieting and gut-wrenching enigma.

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An artifact is completed around that time. a splint, of all things, depicting both Ukas archescort and our faraway, eldritch queen. What an ill-fated omen that new masterpiece is! This is the first time her grace is engraved on anything here in Whisperwhip; to have her appear alongside Quula on a medical item fills me with unbearable unease.

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... Whatever my issues may be, they are less pressing than what is taking place in the hospital. Two more soldiers were dragged in, eyes gone and flesh necrotising. That's over half the Squeezing Walls rendered blind and corpsified by this vile curse. The surgical schedule is now as thick as our ledgers. They will be long dead before the staff can do anything. Unless... unless the blood transfusions work.

In a strange twist of fate, most of them are still extatic about the whole thing, rabling about their glorious battle against the greatest monsters. A nurse correct me: they are simply on drugs. Lots of it. Yet I'm not the only one who is wrong here. Little do those ill-fated soldiers know, the worst is still to come, and the greatest monster of all roams our halls freely, under the guise of divinity.

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As to wether or not stacking 5 patients on top of each other is right or wrong tho, i have no clue.

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Tun is becoming increasingly restless. No longer than two hours after his newest mandate is complete, he orders yet another batch of querns to be crafted. does he not understand that we have a medical emergency on our hands, and that we have more important things to craft, namely the queen's furnitures?

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Of course, Tun is only half the trouble here in Whisperwhip. Cripple Kikrost is equally obnoxious in his own, pathetically violent way. five of our bravest soldiers had their eyes burst and leak out, while every ounce of their flesh is turning black and mortified, yet poor Kikrost is the one who simply can't take it anymore. Because he won't go to the hospital, or wear his legendary sandals. Or because he doesn't like our fucking chairs.

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And of course there is the GOD. DAMN. FUCKING. DINGOS. You can tell the soldiers are having enough of it too, because they've managed to pincushion this one to the wall along with a farm bird.


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No. No. Nononononononono. fuck you, Mavi. This is not the time. Fuck you, and fuck forgotten beasts.

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That's right. Get lost.

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Time pass, and the doctor shows up in my office with some good news.
''I was able to stop, well, some of the infection. Of course, trollblood is not miraculous in itself, not over such a short period of time, but for those with a strong system, it responded... unecpectedly well. Kadol is up, and insisted that she go back to her duty. She'll never see again, but with some guard dogs, she should be able to patrol the halls. Not a glorious task, but it's better than being fired from the milicia. As for Mistem, she... responded incredibly well to my treatment. Her body has stopped the necrosis, and scarrified the tissues. Her eyes are still gone, obviously, but she is fine otherwise.''

Mistem's recovery is miraculous, and bring up great cheers among the residents and soldiers alike. altho 3 of her subordinates may never walk or work again, she has overcome the ancient plague brought forth from the depths of the world. Her sight is gone, yet her bravery and knowledge of warfare remain. So long as she lives and breathes, she will defend this fortress.

...Maybe beyond that, even...
« Last Edit: November 21, 2014, 03:03:31 am by Taupe »
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0rion

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and deicide
« Reply #41 on: November 04, 2014, 06:47:55 pm »

I could'nt catch up the story as I'm a bit overwhelmed these days. Just saw little Orion finally achieved to do something noticeable :p
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Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and deicide
« Reply #42 on: November 04, 2014, 11:26:59 pm »

CHAPTER 26: Dumpatorium Drama
Summer, fall and winter of 112

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While Rifi's curse was raging in the infirmary, the rest of the fort was oblivious to the disaster taking place above. The miners are done with the smoothing and engraving, and various metalworks are coming out of the shop. Woodcutters above and below are working their hardest to keep our ever-hungry industry sated, thanks to fungiplants and tropical trees being chopped down non-stop.

Soon the dinning hall begins to look the part, with copper tables and thrones being hauled through our poorly designed staircase system.

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It was ordered that the temple's vault be filled only with the highest quality of items. Miliciadwarves the fort over rejoice when they find that the leather leggings are all but crafted, and that most of them are stored in Kadol's coffins. Masterwork leggings for all!

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The guards are busy diving down the mineshafts to reach their new uniforms, while the first dumpatorium assault begins! An ambush snuck through the southern hills and assault our war tiger...

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...And do him in. Rest in peace, brave cat! A dog attempts to join in and save Tony, but is also felled by the goblin's mighty axe. The invaders venture inside after dispatching our animal patrol.

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With their work on the royal chambers done, I dispatched our miners to the dumpatorium, to dig a southern hall. Soon, they will be trapped, as the goblins control the only exit: a meager staircase leading upwards.

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The miners remember the briefing, and quickly launch various pets at the attackers to slow them down. Where is the army? Will they make it in time? Only once they've put in those awesome new trousers, pals!

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As our miners run out of beloved pets/ammunition, they scramble in the miasmatic depths and try to hide under piles and piles of butchered troll corpses. Miraculously, a werebeast appears very close, and immediately charges toward the nearest creatures, the goblins. They butchered the only animals along the way, and are now standing between the miners and the entrance, making them a prime target for this enraged beast. The greenskin formation breaks, and a new episode of scoobidoo unfolds in the dumpatorium. This formidable display of Hanna Barbera skirmish allows the army to sweep in, and dispatch the two remaining goblins.

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The werecavy turns back into a dwarven peasant, which the army immediately slaughters in cold blood, because that's how we roll now.

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Soon, another angry beast erupts with the fury of a thousand whines. Kikrost the cripple is miraculously still alive despite two dozen tantrums thrown within the last year or so. He is so fucking terrible that even a child achieved legendary status, while he still hasnt picked up half of his equipment.

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Yet this fit of rage will be his last, for poor Kikrost apparently forgot to eat or drink in the last month, because complaining and cancelling fist fights with your own dogs is busywork. I expected his 3 dozen cousins and nieces to be sad, but surprisingly everyone is happy to be rid of him. Dwarves organise a party for the first time in over 6 years to celebrate the slow and easily avoided death of Kikrost Lesastat.

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Yet Kikrost was not the only recurring threat to the safety of Whisperwhip: Purerisks the fearsome crocodile is still lurking in the cavernous river, eager to snatch another worker before running back to the safety of her rocky hideout. The BASE1 troops are dispatched to guard the area, and the miners get to work, clearing the banks closest to Purerisk's favorite spot.

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We have a lot of miners here at the time, so I decide to make the trip worthwile. Those cavernous mazes are ripe with gems of all kind, but most of them are located upsiars, out of our dwarven reach. There is, however, a few clusters north of the current work area that could be reached by a simple tunnel.

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My attention is quickly hikacked by new problems at the dumpatorium. Our mayor, no less, is being ambushed by a goblin thief. Those assholes are nothing to fear in a straight fight, but they have killed or maimed many a child over the years, and almost as many unarmored peasants. The mayor has a pet, yet his lion is currently faffing about elsewhere...

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Yet, a dingo decides to interpose himself! He jumps in front of the mayor, and initiate a grappling session with the thief. Her bravery will cost her a paw, yet gain her the favor of the whole fort. By her courage, she has redeemded the dingo race in the eyes of the dwarves. We're still butchering those 12 new ones we captured tho.

We actually have enough pets as it is. I decide not to order new cages, and give the hunters the permission to hunt again. We're just eating what we catch at this point, and unting is just less trouble than cage rearming.

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An artifact is produced. Maybe we'll get some use to it when we have a non-zero amount of manpower to spare. Milling souns like something useful, but somewhat i doubt her highness will rejoice if we forsake her room to build our own miniature Holland.

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Some hunters stalk the surface, while others decide that scouting the caverns is a good idea. they inform us that a Giant toad is on it's way.

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The fisherdwarves are interupted by it, and I fear for the worst...

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But they simply outrun the beast and go back to fishing a bit further away. Zero fucks given. They catch a few fishes, say hi to the soldiers who show up for some ol' fashioned stabbering, and resume their mundane job.

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Shortly after, a group of troglodytes is spotted entering our county. the troops are already closeby, and I order them to fight. They charge southward...

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I have no idea how hard this fight could get, yet the reports are very underwhelming. One troglodyte gets strangled to death, but not before getting shaked so hard that most of it's anatomy crumbles. The rest attempt charge attacks, with disastrous results. Soon, the southern entrance is covered with blood and gore, the official colors of Whisperwhip County.

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Next is a siege, which I would normally wait out, but a poor peasant is stuck outside. At first I assume that he's a slave they brough along with them, but I'm informed by the loutpost liason that this is a diplomat from the mountainhomes. Why do we need two? Oh, because we have a fancy place and lots of food to share. I see.  Leaving the dwarven freeloader ambassador outside to his death would be an enormous political faux-pas, so the general decides to take the field.

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Every squad is going outside, and their orders are to charge a specific direction and kill any incoming goblins or trolls before the siege can regroup and lay waste and boredom to our wonderful castle. The closest troops, led by the general himself, rush to save the peasambassador. Four other squads scatter across the countyside, and Mistem's squad is left behind to hold the gate. Because sending blind skeletal soldiers on a 2-days-long charge across the mountains is a very shitty strategy.

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Quula is there too! She was on her way back from the dumpatorium when the siege broke out. Because if there's one thing Quula fucking enjoys, it's starring at mutilated corpses marinating in their own scattered entrails. It's incredibly disconcerting, but like most traumatising things here in Whisperwhip, we slowly stop caring about it.

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One of the soldiers notice what he positively knows to be giraffe fiend's spider silk. Quula visibly had an altercation with something here, but my combat logs do not mention anything about it. I guess the godess of murder don't care about the mandatory battle log that must be written after each fight. What did she kill? How awesome were her abilities? We have no way to know. Quula remains a mystery, leaving only silk and guesses behind.

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It's customary with every siege to end with the creation of an artifact. (and usually a newborn baby) This siege gives us both.  Civilian rejoice and drink while the army casually slaughter 150 invaders. The ambassador is hot in the face by a goblin elite archer, yet miraculously walks away without a scratch.


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About half a year goes by without incident. Winter is almost done, and so are our royal accomodations, when sights of a new terrifying beast are reported. Attracted by the gruesome and smelly remains of the troglodyte vanguard, Oggaz Ostaravuz has come, ondulating and snapping angrily with his mandibles. It doesn't look THAT devastating tho, so the closest squad is dispatched to take care of the problem.

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It dies instantly, and everything goes back to normal. False alarm, people. Go back to hauling copper furnitures 12 floors across!

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Our victory over this disapointing opponent is celebrated with an equally disapointing artifact: A wooden earring. This is the kind of thing that only an elven noble would wear, and Quula has a long history of killing, eating and reanimating those kind of dudes. The earring is stored in a vault, to never be spoken of again.

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Thankfully, a much better artifact is now complete, the rsult of many crafters working together over many months. The rose gold throne is now encircled and decorated with countless gems and images, worthy of the ruler to come. To ensure that gems werent wasted, a single tile furtniture stockpile was designated next to the throne, and a gemshop was constructed nearby, ensuring that the gem setters would always chose the throne for their task. I soon learned that one kind of gem can only be setted on a specific item once, which resulted in the pimpest and priciest anvil to ever be crafted in all dwarfdom.

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To replenish our gem pile, miners venture back into their latest tunnel, and add a staircase up, in order to gather more exposed clusters.  They murder a giant toad on their way, and notice that 5 pond grabbers have made an appearance below them. A troll is also sighted across the bridges for the first time. Truly those caverns are becoming more dangerous every day... The miners grab the gems as fast as they can, and rush back upstairs.

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Meanwhile, armor stands and weapon racks are now lined up in the royal corridors. silver statues were constructed as well, but silver is hard to come by, for each statue requires 3 smeltings of tetrahydrate, and thus 4 pieces of charcoal. Thankfully those throne room statues are the only silver expenditure i planned, the rest is made of copper, of which we have tons.

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We don't know when the queen will get here (as the dwarven caravan has been her forever and still hasnt returned to the mountainhome. Since we seem to have some spare time, I order the idle miners to finish engraving the ''Project''. We have so many POW now that I want to welcome her majesty with a friggin genocide. Welcome to your new capital, please enjoy this typical day here in the north represented by 35 fully armed goblins being attacked by a horde of blood-crazed dingos.

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Oh come on, don't eat your fucking baby, we'll need as many of them as we can get when the shows start!

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Yes! Right in time for the new year, the monarchical bedchambers are finally completed. Short of a few possible silver statues in the future, this is the final design. The bed is put 3 tiles from the wall, making it the central focus of the room, with the added bonus of barely reaching all the racks and stands when the room is designated.

Happy 13th anniversay, Whisperwhip! Let's hope this wont be the last.
« Last Edit: November 21, 2014, 03:06:35 am by Taupe »
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Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and deicide
« Reply #43 on: November 05, 2014, 07:05:49 pm »

Good news, everyone! The map is now hosted on DFMA. The link can be found below (or on the OP, right above the index. If you want to better understand how the fortress is structured (beside terribly), or if you just like browsing maps in general, then here's your chance:

http://mkv25.net/dfma/map-12316-whisperswhips

Zorromorph

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Re: Whisperwhip: Tales of bloodshed and deicide
« Reply #44 on: November 06, 2014, 03:45:18 am »

I have not laughed this hard in many a year!  I particularly enjoyed the demise of Kikrost the Useless

Quote
The werecavy turns back into a dwarven peasant, which the army immediately slaughters in cold blood, because that's how we roll now. ... Soon, another angry beast erupts with the fury of a thousand whines.

and the latest from the ... uh ... whatever-she-is ...

Quote
Because if there's one thing quula fucking enjoyes, it's starring at mutilated corpses marinating in their own scattered entrails. It's incredibly disconcerting, but like most traumatising things here in Whisperwhip, we slowly stop caring about it.



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