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Author Topic: Whisperwhip: a megabeast steakhouse (Circus Edition)  (Read 82905 times)

firsal

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #90 on: January 23, 2015, 09:45:50 am »

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Whisperwhip: A fortress so hardcore that it gave a demon from the beginning of time, slaughterer of multitudes, a leader of a great empire, an existential crisis.
Some members of the fortress are not as hardcore as I would hope. Thankfully, this will be fixed soon enough. (or doom us, whichever comes first)

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Seriously, this fort is awesome and deserves to be in the hall of fame if it isn't already there.
Thank you so much! It's always a pleasure to see strangers come out of the shadow to voice their appreciation! As for the hall of fame nomination, I don't think the fort was ever nominated. It migh be a better idea to wait until the old chapters are revisited and corrected before posting a nomination. The moment someone does, people are gonna rush in to see what this is about, and it would be better for these newcomers to find an up-to-date and typo-free version.

The updates should be starting back soon, as I'm done building the new computer. We went from 10 FPS to basically 30 (holy fuck!?!) so expect things to move much faster now! The next chapter, ''Justice is served, supper isn't'' should be ready this weekend. Thank you for bearing with this delay.

Awesome! Looking forward to the next update.

Also, would you mind dorfing me as a militiadwarf? :3
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Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #91 on: January 24, 2015, 11:11:30 pm »

CHAPTER 41: Justice is served, supper isn't
End of spring 117

As the elves depart, no doubt to gather all this awesome new wood they'll gift us next year, the mayor barges into my office. He's happy to announce that the legendary and metaphysical issue known as ''fps drop'' has been resolved overnight. The only explanation he could give me was that it was no doubt the result of the Gods upgrading the machinery they use to power the universe. The passage of time should no longer be dilated tremendously. Shame, I was almost getting used to think about everything in slow motion. The night before felt like they lasted forever twice, which was terrible for getting things done, but awesome for planning how to set things right.

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Before I can get on with my most recent and bold scheme to date, two more important news reach me. The first is that Atir the engraver has claimed a craftdwarf workshop and is now in a very weird mood. I don't get too excited about that. Probably another fucking mug on the way. What troubles me is that Tun has ordered yet more querns to be created, and Atir is one of the few remaining competent mason. I hope we don't end up missing a deadline.

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The second news is that Kol is beating the shit out of another helpless dwarf. How did this happen? Have my fears been confirmed already? Kol is the duke's main enforcer, and hearing about him fighting a civilian probably means that Tun is mad. I ask about more details. Is the civilian ok?

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I'm told that Urist the planter is not ok. In fact, his skull was punched through and through, resulting in a terminal case of not being ok. How did this happen? how could anyone be so dumb as to let Tun get angry like this, after he made such a gruesome display in the slaughterdome? I must get answers, and find out who fucked up so bad. If anything, this is clear proof that my restructuring of this fort is direly needed.

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I run into Dumat, who is overseeing the digging of the crypt expansion. He's calling it the people's graveyard, where the victims of an oppressive tyrant will be put to rest. Dumat is always trying to secure the support and favors of the workers. The army couldn't care less about him, but the lowborns and commoners swear by his ideas.

''Dumat, you dumb buffon, how could you let the miners work on a project like this when there is a quern mandate underway?
-Erhm, with all due respect, general, that's like, not a thing.
-What?
-I talked with manager Stukos. There hasn't been a quern order until the latest incident, because the duke is too busy enjoying Kadol admiring a quern. Do you really thing I'd be stupid enough to dispatch our miners if we had a mandate to meet? I've run this place for 15 years, I know how this whole personnel management thing works. In fact, back in my days, we never missed a fucking deadline.
-Yeah, well, hum shut up. If there wasn't a mandate, why did Kol beat up another apprentice mason?
-Gee, I don't know, who's the fucking general around here? Maybe you should keep your goons in check more.

I won't even respond to that. I leave, but take good note of Dumat's attitude. He's undermined my authority in the past to crown himself overseer, and with the regicide accusations still lurking over his head, he'd better not pull that trick again. I decide to have a chat with our doctor. Once more, he confide in me his suspicions.

''Kol is more than just a lackey to Tun. His stories are inconsistent at best. I think he's a savage thug looking for excuses to murder people. Keep an eye on him, general.''

I end up talking with manager Stukos, who's still so happy about the promotion of his son Immortal-D. Stukos confirms that there were indeed no work orders from the duke as of late. Urist's death is most suspicious. It's time to gather some witnesses and find out the truth about Kol's actions.

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''General, general! Check this out, I made a sweet mug!
-NOT NOW, ATIR!''

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The plot thickens. A woodcutter, as well as two children, confirm that Kol killed Urist the planter and soon-to-be mason in cold blood. Kids are really fucking stupid, meaning that they are too dumb to partake in any sort of political plot. They must be telling the truth. The jail was never completed, as this is essentially the first time in 16 years where a crime is reported. I could order the jail to be put in place, but I can't afford to have the masons, engineers and smiths all giving up their current tasks for this. No, Whisperwhip's justice shall be swift and merciless. I can only rely on one person here. I dispatch Kel.

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Kol the murderer is off-duty. When my sister the modest goals get to him, he's busy engraving a nearby wall. Not for long, jackass.

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Kel grabs Kol and start pummeling his face repeatedly with her fists. Once he gets less defensive (and conscious), she breaks each of his legs in three points. That'll teach him.

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Kol is down for the count, and it'll be a while before he can walk again, if he ever does. Not exactly a big loss. Kol was a brave soldiers, but he's killed almost as many dwarves as he did goblins before Kel put a stop to his unhealthy pastime. Sadly, I could not find any evidences to prove that he is responsible for the death of Ustuth. The army don't exactly need him on duty right now.

To be fair, there is a lot of people the army doesn't need on duty right now. While I may need my squad and Immortal-D's available at all time to patrol the caverns and respond to monster appearances, this is no longer true of the surface. Mistem's squadron is not exactly useful at anything, so I keep them training the newbies, or patrolling the halls for unruly animals. The sixth squad is still inexperienced, and must keep training, then they'll be used to fill the blanks left in the first squads. The wall no longer needs two squads, tho. Not with the sheer size of Lady Asmel's balls resting at the top of it. Goblin sieges are no longer the big deal they were ten years ago. With just 6 to 8 dwarves patrolling, we can respond to thieves and ambushes easily. Asmel herself can kill 30 times her number in greenskins. If any invasion happens, we can easily dispatch the Ferocious Tools to the field while the rest of the soldiers gather their gear.

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Obviously, my squad and Asmel's are still to spend a month per year training, as to not go rusty. This is the only time when the Inky Wells will be on wall duty. I order them to become miners and masons the rest of the time, as well as to give a hand with engraving the fort. They are strong and do not tire easily, which are the main qualities required of our miners and masons both. Having them carry our heaviest stones and do tough manual labors will be easier for them than it would be for, say, a teenager dabbling in the trade. We need masons and diggers, and the Inky Wells shall be those workers. With some luck, this will give them a new insight about life and themselves, and make them better soldiers somehow.

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Another thing we don't need are cooks and brewers. According to Led the bookkeeper, we can survive on what we have for about 3 years in drinks, and twice that long in prepared food. We will need recruits ready to fill in the blanks left by dead soldiers, and now is the time to train them. I order the leader of the Magical Gloves, my namesake Muthkat, to train them as best as he can. I believe that this military training will make our cooks and distillers more disciplined; a skill they obviously lack considering the giant pile of unhauled barrels lying in the courtyard, and the meals left to rot everywhere. Strength and agility can only make them better cooks and haulers when they return to their civil duties (maybe?).

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In time, I plan to have most of the fort undergo a draft of 2 to three years. Dicipline, physical fitness and badassery shall be the essence of this fortress in due time. For now, we'll start with the cooks, and see how they turn out. I asked dr. Melbil to perform an examination of the new recruits, so we can compare their stats after each year, and see how well this is turning out. I used the leftover tables and beds we had in our stockpiles to convert the area next to the failed execution range into an adequate barrack for the new Magical Gloves.

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It is now way into summer, and the cooks and brewers are still slacking off on the job. Nobody is training, they are all sneaking out to perform easier tasks around the fort. I gather the unruly recruits and have a serious talk with them (But really, I had to play with the burrow connections, as the magical gloves were previously part of the civilian alert and not set to training/active. Oups)

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In a year, I plan to have the cooks and brewers face their real foe in the arena. They'll simply be shooting it down from above, but I find live target practice more valuable than any amount of practice gallery. I order the mayor to set our newest batch of prisoners down in the slaughterdome, and link them to the levers. We'll start with a goblin per lever, since newbie archers will need a full quiver to finish off a target even at ten vs one. This grey langur is going unruly and flings poop at the trainers. He shall have the honor of being the first dummy.

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The Inky Wells are owning their skills by trimming the old mine linking the workshops to the Duke's throneroom. Having a bare and rough area between two important sections of the fort just won't do, so this seems like an easy first task for our new miners. Once the place looks decent enough, they start smoothing it.

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Zulban the master lasher joins force with the old stone detailers as they begin smoothing the terribly inefficient dumping corridor. He is definitely slower than any of them, by a long shot. Yet, after all the engravers quit to take a break and rest, Zulban remains, focused on the task given, alone on the job. With time, he may become a better stoneworker than all of them, thanks to his unwavering military will. Thank you, Zulban, for proving me right on this important decision.

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As summer draws to an end, the fort actually starts to amass idlers. I decide to reward my fellow dwarves on their tough work by allowing them to gather socks and shoes from our fallen enemies. It's like a mini Clothsgiving that warms our heart.

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Except you, Kol. Because your legs are smashed. You can't grab new socks.

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Aww, damnit, a siege on Clothsgiving? I send Asmel outside with her squad, and dispatch Mistem and the blind warriors to the west. Just... intercept any troll you can hear, will you? The holliday must not be interrupted. Thankfully it's only a baby siege, with 65 or so goblins and trolls combined. 3 get trapped, 5 escape, the others are slaughtered as usual.

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coming back from the battlefield, a soldier announces that he has named a weapon. I normally do not pay much attention to those messages anymore, but this time it's from Tosid, our local paladin. Grizzlerags the sling of storms has ended the life of 12 of his opponents, making it worthy of a title indeed. More so than a palm crosbow that never fired a shot. Wink wink, you know who you are.

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To conclude this productive season, Dumat the broker announces that he installed two statues of himself in the people's graveyard. Why, just why do you have to be like that. At least, he also did something more productive too. The renovations are now underway in the second bridge passage. Once this is complete, the room will be suitable for traffic, and moving to and from BASE1 will be much easier.

All in all, this may have been one of the most productive season in Whisperwhip's history. Changes were made, drastic changes, but I believe it is for the best. In time, we may have an actually productive fortress. Not only that, but we've also caught the most notorious criminal in this fort's history, and put an end to his antics. Good job, everyone! Except you, animal trainers. Get your shit together.
« Last Edit: January 24, 2015, 11:31:32 pm by Taupe »
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Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #92 on: January 26, 2015, 10:10:07 pm »

CHAPTER 42: Fire and blood
Fall of 117

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The fortress carries on without incident, until some early fall morning when Immortal-D announces the arrival of a new monster.

''it's another giant bird! It has come to avenge the fallen Elk bird king!''

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It flies rapidly above the volcano, and is heading toward BASE1's entrance. I mobilize the Turquoises of Hair, and Immortal-D has the Contests of Fortifying on the move. We can hear the monster stalking us on the other side of the door. It speaks in a strange tongue, screaming and cursing. No doubt an ancient vengeance wish spoken in name of the Bird king, which was slain in Whisperwhip this spring. I'm afraid that the beast's words may hold some secret power, so I order everyone to swarm the creature. Poisonous stings are not the deadliest of abilities, not with the dodge training imparted by Immortal-D.

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Charge! The beastslayer is the first to charge outside, and shoot the monster at point blank, shattering its spine. The now quadraplegic Osprey crashes to the ground. The troops jump on him and pummel it to death. It's so one-sided I actually feel sad for the thing. I express my feelings out loud.

''Do not feel sorry, general, warns me Immortal-D. I can understand the things it said when it arrived. ''Veangeance, Justice. Fire and Blood''. The ancient birds of the world have sworn an oath to see this fort perish by their talons, and more will come. We cannot rest, I'm afraid. Not until all the birds in the world are dead.''

I dismiss Immortal-D's words. The son of manager Stukos is a great soldier and leader, but his reports are delusional at times. Whisperwhip has known far worse than birds, especially if they are all as weak as Osnusm the Osprey.

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I'm told as we get back upstairs that a child was overtaken by some strange mood, and withdrew to a craftdwarf workshops, taking the traditional ressources of this fort with him. Ugly stone, red zircons, and various parts of hyenas and dingos. I can't wait to see what uninspired mug he comes up with. Not.

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As long as the caverns are not easily accessed, travelling up and down is a pain in the ass. We'll need more backpacks and flasks, to accomodate the new trainees. Quivers, we have plenty. Work on the second bridge room is suspended for now, thanks to Tun ordering about 10 new querns last season.

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Oh, it's a scepter. Again. We have trice as many scepters as we have nobles, but great job, kid. The rise of a generic goblin as our enemy is truly the most important thing to capture about the history of this place.

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Speaking of craftdwarfship, the slab for our old beastslayer has not been placed yet. Better put it where it belong, that Ustuth may finally rest in peace as she deserves. Her death was most weird. Doctor Melbil confirms that it may have been an infected old wound from a feline, but it was reopened and magnified overnight by the spell cast by the forgotten beast that Ustuth vanquished. Her sacrifice will not be forgotten.

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Enough thinking about dead soldiers, let's focus on live ones. During her recent fights, Drokles the lasher has become a mistress of her craft. She is now a formidable dwarf indeed, despite her absolute pessimism. Her nickname is particularly interesting. Drokles Saviormetal, the Friendly River of Machines. does she wish to apprentice as a mechanist? I'll talk about the mayor.

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Nevermind, the mayor is busy mentioning that we are out of wood every seven seconds. That's annoying. I tell him to shut his idiot mouth, grab an axe, and venture in the caverns to fetch some by himself. Hey, Drokles, we have a temporary spot open in the mechanical department!

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I'll let the mayor suffer quietly in the caverns, maybe for a few days, before I tell him that he has a new guest. I watch the horizon as the new Law-Giver of the Lavender Empire crosses the plains and head toward the fort.

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Oh. Fuck. Shit. By armok, an ambush springs out right above the lawgiver's head. He's way too far for us to do anything. I order Asmel to murder what she can and make the corpse disappear. If anyone asks, he never made it, we never saw him. He's the 5th lawgiver of the Empire since Quula left the position 3 years ago. It's apparently a more cursed job than teaching children to fight off the dark arts ever was.

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speaking of magic, the encrusted gems in the workshop room continues to grow. One of them is now surrounded by the bones of no less than three megabeasts. I swear someone in this fort is crafting a bone golem right there in plain sight.

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Right before the end of fall, the farmers announce that a pig has died of starvation. Their numbers have grown quickly during the last year, and now they cannot feed themselves. I relegate the issue to Dumat, who puts the slaughtering courtyard to use once again. I have more important things to manage.

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For example, this goblin sneaked right to the entrance of the fort. Could it be that cutting the number of soldiers of the wall was a mistake? Three fighters and a lion give chase, but the greenskin manages to outrun even the king of the jungle. Curses!

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His friend appears as the fighters return, and attacks a child, knocking him aside. The fighters chase after him too. This one isn't so lucky!

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And yet, it turns out this was just a diversion. The first goblin followed the fighters to the fort, and made off with a baby while his friend distracted our guards! His parents are incredibly upset!

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Immediately after the kidnapping incident, no less than 5 barn owls revert to a wild state. they are torn appart by war lions and dingos, as their owners stare at the scene with horrified looks on their faces.

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The barn owls are not going down too easily in some parts of the fort. One dingo, which I assume is the real Slim Shady, is getting it's ass kicked by a fucking bird. Then three more barn owls join the frey, and start causing a havoc.

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A hyena close to rebelling is inspired by the barn owls, and tries to eat a puppy. Why did we even bother with pets.

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At least the situation outside is contained. kobolds have joined the fray, but a soldier manages to intercept them before anything bad can happen again.

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Oh shit even more bird attacks all of a sudden. Could Immortal-D be right? Are the birds rising up against Whisperwhip, like the Osprey proclaimed? No, I will not believe such stupid tales. I am a practical man, not a superstitious lunatic like my newest squad leader.

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Someone crafts a harp to calm the owl. It sort of works, but only because the number of barn owls is now basically a sixth of what it was before. TrifflingPaddle will be placed in our vaults, alongside Kel's artifact drum.

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Ah, Kel and her recent obsession for drums. She is decorating everything she can with a picture of this instrument. Her team of bonecrafters have been hard at work. Bags and armor pieces are being beautified everyday. Buckets are especially awesome in Whisperwhip, the average bucket being priced at 1000 urists. A third of the bonehoard has now been emptied. According to Led, we now have close to 300 totems. I send Dumat to trade them to our fellow dwarven merchants, alongside any wooden equipment left by the elves, and our tons of used cloths. There is way too much to bring to the Depot in time, but Dumat gets in two solid trades, obtaining drinks, some metal and high-quality bolt, as well as steel armor for the recruits. He gets rid of over half of the intended trade goods littering our stockpiles. A good merchant visit, all and all.

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As the year draws to a close, Immortal-D barges into my office once more.

''It's the third bird this year! Do you believe me now? This one breathes fire, just like I said! fire and blood, the birds are here to get their revenge on us!
-Silly idiot, stop lecturing me and get your squad down there!''

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This majestic Grouse of Fire is up to some nasty stuff. It foregoes the fort, and instead demolishes the steel door leading to the lower levels. The hatch cover is next, torched by the firey breath of the giant bird. The creature remains there, chanting something strange, while sitting at the entrance of the unexplored depth. What kind of dark creatures is he summoning from below? Immortal-D doesn't want to find out, so he orders his guys to charge.

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three dwarves go in, while Immortal-d and Catten remain outside of the fireball's range, shooting with their crossbows. Once the beast has been slain, they immediately change back into their civilian clothes and walk back casually, without looking back. Because cool guys don't look at explosions. The battle went very well, with nobody getting injured in any way.

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the corpse of the creature is glowing, still on fire. The three melee dwarves move in to investigate, and attempt to haul the corpse back to the surface to butcher it. Then smoke fills the air, and the small chamber leading downwards turns into a thick mess of ashes and nauseous gas. The corpse of the Grouse starts to flicker, and explodes in a goey cloud of blood.

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Now Endok is glowing as well. He doesn't know what the hell is happening, but his name is flashing rapidly. This shouldn't be happened. Why is his name glowing. Tell me now game, tell me now.

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Lor and the Unburnt Doren are also flashing now. What the hell is going on? None of them bears any scratch! What kind of sorcery did the Grousinder cast upon the party? (Grouse+ cinder, actual pokemon concept I'm selling to game freak live)

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Nothing in the caverns below. The ground around the creature itself is filled with a strange liquid, which nobody can identify.

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I check medical records. Doren was once diagnosed with a forgotten beast syndrome. Maybe that's what this is? Lor and Endok are also part of the Contests of fortfifying, so this could just be a result of an old syndrome. Maybe the flashing is harmless, or a bug. Doren has killed 3 beasts, and faced quite a bit more, now is not his time. He is the most badass dwarf we have here, so a little bit of smoke isn't going to shake him.

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Doren explodes into a geyser of blood. Every single part of his body starts to exhudes a torrent of sanguine liquid. There is so much blood around that a cloud pops out of his body the instant this issue kicks in, mixing up with the smoke to create a brown fog around him. On the plus side, he's no longer flashing.

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lor is trying to get out of the cloud, when suddenly, he too transforms into a geyser of thick brown smokey blood. He starts to get up, and finally exits the cloud of heavy smoke left by the burning bird carcass. He starts heading toward the base, where he'll receive some much needed medical care, and a medal.

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lor's name is no longer flashing. His body starts to bleed heavily, tho, and within second every part of his body is now pissing fluids everywhere. He looks in front of him, up the ramp, where he hope to find the exit, or some help.

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...But there a few meters in front of him, the only thing he recognizes is the lifeless corpse of the unburnt Doren, slayer of many monstrosities. Doren didn't make it far. Lor knows the same fate awaits him. He stops, and collapses on the floor. The corpse of the two comrades now lie together, lifeless, bathing in a pool of their mixed blood.

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Quickly, everything is forbidden. nobody is going in there. There is nothing we can do to save those poor souls.

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Immortal-D stares back at the cloud of smoke and blood, clenching his fists. At this very moment, he knows that Endok is in there, waiting for the flashing to stop, and the life to erupt out of him. This is the worst fate imaginable. ''It should have been me, he mutters. I'm their captain...'' He wants to mourn the death of his friends, and honor their noble sacrifice. After all, they died to slaughter an ancient beast, and save the fortress. Yet any amount of joy he can find in this soon turns to sorrow and bitterness.  He knows, deep down, that this isn't over. More will come.

Vengeance. Justice. Fire and Blood.

SkaiaMechanic

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #93 on: January 27, 2015, 01:01:54 am »

Dude. What the hell. That has got to be one of the most terrifying syndromes I've ever read, probably due to how you wrote it. How come you always find the !!fun!! ones? Doren deserves a grand funeral, even for Whisperwhip's military standards. A centerpiece somewhere, perhaps?

You know, once you find a way to retrieve his body without everyone becoming blood mages.
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I'm running out of dogs. I'm running out of bolts.
I'm running out of dwarves.

Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #94 on: January 27, 2015, 01:26:32 am »

I always find the coolest syndromes because I face every single monster head on, and there are loads of them. Most people just seal off the caverns or send a swarm of 200 peasants who die from regular attacks, meaning nobody learns of their special syndromes (aka: Doomforests's snail blood). The milicia being tough enough to withstand standart attacks, they get to survive and endure the full effect of the curses and diseases, while a lesser dwarf would simply perish from head removal.

I really wanted to make the two birds attack on the same post, so I skipped a lot of minor stuff inbetween, which ill put in the next chapter. This include the entombing of our heroes, as well as some renovation and housing projects to counter the happiness loss, which frankly had no influence on the big fights here.

I must have spent a good 10 minutes in front of my screen, pausing and doing other stuff, just to delay the inevitable ''ticking'' of the third dwarf's bloodxplosion. Those were some of the most battle-hardned dwarves this fort has, which is saying a lot. They will be very, very hard to replace. Frankly, I doubt they can ever be.

The contests of fortifying was initially the squad I chose because they were the lesser of the badass squad. They've spent so much time killing shit in the caverns or taking on forgotten beasts that altho other dwarves may be better with a sword or a crossbow, those fighters have survived more forgotten beast syndromes, curses and deadly breath than anyone has a right to. If I ever fill the squad with spare recruits, they'll be chosen for their constitution and disease resistance before anything else.
« Last Edit: January 27, 2015, 01:33:07 am by Taupe »
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Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #95 on: January 28, 2015, 07:42:04 pm »

CHAPTER 43: War never changes
Spring of 118

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Time passes, and the new year kicks in. It is not a jolly day, however, far from it. Three of our heroes have perished, many pets died a stupid death, and a child was abducted. Wether this was a set of unavoidable tragedies, or the result of my shortcomings as overseer, the end result is the same: lots of people are unhappy right now. Some will get over it, others have lost close relatives and will have a hard time getting over it. I normally would ignore the new bedrooms and leave them unfinished, since we have more than enough space already. For the time being, however, I feel that settling people in BASE1 may be bad for the morale of the fort, so I order those fancy rooms to be completed. Manager Stukos places an order for 10 copper table and as many chairs.

I then spend a few days with bookkeeper Led browsing our stock lists. We have over 200 statues placed in this fort, and with some luck, one of these statues depicts something beloved by one of the sad dwarves. I order a jumping spider statue, as well as a water buffalo statue, to be moved to the bedrooms of some of the mourning dwarves. Two other dwarves very much enjoy specific materials that we have lying around, so I order them to swap rooms with some citizen who have funirtures made of this spcific wood or stone. I give war dogs and lions to the rest.

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Nothing sums up the state of our army like seeing Mistem, a former hero of this temple, now stumbling blindly into a cell and locking herself up with a family of cheetas.

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There is nothing we can do about the blind members of the Squeezing Walls, but we can at least honor the sacrifice of our fallen soldiers. Our best slabs are engraved. Strangely enough, one of the soldiers, Endok, appears as if he was killed by a giant cave spider. Weird. I saw no such creature, no webs, and no corpse. Had the spider gone anywhere near Endok before he died, it would have been infected as well, and spider blood would soak the caverns, along with a corpse. Mt theory is that whenever a syndrome is too strange to explain, the dwarves simply write something that they can understand, like spider venom or a jaguar bite infection.

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I will dispatch Immortal-D and the surviving members of his squad, so that they can scout the lower caverns and spot a potential spider nevertheless. As I'm sending them on their way, the elven merchants arrive with the yearly tributes. following closely is a squad of goblins, trying to ambush the wagons. Thankfully, our perimeter of traps is a good way to warn of such incoming incursions.

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Naturally, Lady Asmel is the first to react. A goblin pushes her into a large pit, and all the greenskins jump on her. From outside the pit, I can see chunks of goblin, trails of blood and various body parts coming out.

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i have no time to admire her work, as my squad is needed south, where the mayor's trap system detected another ambush. Time is of the essence, as Ral the leatherworker was caugh off-guard by the goblins. Thankfully, life in Whisperwhip has given him nerves of steel. He orders his dogs to defend him while he grabs a crossbow lying on a corpse, and shoot the closest goblin, shattering his kidney, then smashing his elbow. The second wound allows Ral to retreat in time for my Turquoise of Hair to intervene. Good job, soldier. I can't wait to forcefully draft you and your fellow leatherworkers.

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Rejoice! The elves are alive. They greet us with their best attempt at sarcasm. Dumat respond with his best threat. The elven merchants drop all their berries in the depot, as well as every log they have. Our wood stockpiles are filled once more. Thank you, come again.

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Once the food, elven wine and wood is hauled, the number of idlers rise up to a dozen. A very rare occurence in this fort. Now would be a good time to butcher our spare animals, without wasting the meat and leather because the haulers and tanners are busy. We have 268 animals at the time being, but most of them are useless pigs, useless male birds, or semi-wild young felines. I order every of those to be killed. With the numerous workshops set in the western courtyard, it shouldn't be too long before we are down to about 210 animals. The young cheetahs are especially wild, and I'd rather butcher them now, then wait for them to grow, even if it means less meat.

The sweetest of our animals is a Giant Leopard male, whom Dumat managed to secure from the traders that just left. If we can get a breeding pair, they'll put even our war lions to shame. I order him trained for combat, and ask that our finest meat be kept to feed this wonderful beast. (This is one of the reasons I wanted our spare animals butchered right now)

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Animal butchering proceeds swimmingly, and so does the training of our new friend.

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Meanwhile in the depths, Immortal-D and the Contests of Fortifying navigate through the bloodied room where their friends lost their life. As we suspected, no sign of a cave spider here. The area seems to have finally cleared of smoke, after the body of Grousinder burned for over 2 months. They are relieved to see that the body of the fallen heroes will be retrievable; they will have the burial they deserve.

The lower caverns are reached from a series of ramps. The place is filled with fungi of all sorts, and there seems to be no way of crossing the narrow northern and eastern tunnels without a woodcutter on the job.

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The team decides to explore down the ramp, but must go back after a few minutes because a fucking child has followed them. They spend about two days returning the kid to the surface and forbidding the civilians from coming down here.

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This is as far as they go. the north area cannot be crossed by a poor swimmer wearing armor, and the south is blocked by large fungi formations. They could order those trees chopped down, but it's probably better to leave them there as natural defenses. Ground dwellers have no way of navigating this new cavern, as only aquatic creatures have the means to enter the area from the side. They head back up. The only enemies they could see were pond grabbers, giant olm, and a cave swallow, which fled at the sight of the soldiers.

''Birds, mutters the captain. Even here, they have spies following us..''

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There is nothing this new cavern has that we cannot find in the first. The way is sealed for now, but this time we bloc the bottom of the ramp formation. This room could easily be turned into a defendable position filled with ballistas, if need be.

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Before the lower cavern can be sealed, I notice a bunch of peasants running down with wheelbarrows, and coming back with half-rotten socks left by the exploring squad. One quick look at one of those haulers confirms what I feared: our clothing is so damaged, that people are willing to brave the burrow restrictions to gather a not totally rotten pair of socks. It's time for a new Clothsgiving, which I declare in honor of our fallen hero Doren the Unburnt. We have 15 idlers, so we should be good, as long as we do not add orders to the queue. Manager Stukos informs me that he stopped filling new bonecraft and charcoal orders, which explain why we finally have some workforce available. Good thinking, manager. We can resume those tasks when we have nothing important to do.

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This mass gathering of loot proves to be disastrous. The population spreads across the plains, and a goblin manages to snatch a young dwarf. before we even know he was here, the kidnapper is gone!

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Some off-duty soldiers manage to corner another goblin, and the criminal pays with his life.

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More loot means more gear. The cooks andbrewers spent about 3 seasons training and learning the way of war, so now it's time for them to learn about armor and shields. Hopefully, their initial training has made them strong enough to carry it without slowing them down too much. Deler the cook gathers his new gear, and earns the title of axedwarf.

''Deler was my cook name. I am a soldier now, a proud warrior of this fortress. I shall take the name Firsal from now on, to reflect my new status!''

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Another kidnapper appears, and kidnap a young child. This one was the son of the firewalker Zeffon. He was one of the only 4 dwarves who stood up against the fire titan two years ago, along with Drokles and the late Doren. Now fate has rewarded him with a cruel jest, by taking his heir away from him.

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At the same moment, a goblin attacks another child, and stab him in the guts. The invader is driven away, but not even Asmel herself can catch up to him across the savannah. The goblins are becoming smarter, and more agile. We may not fear their clumsy armies, but lone goblins are slowly eroding the social integrity of Whisperwhip.

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Ducim the planter is on dumpatorium duty, churning the bodies of the latest ambushes. Suddenly, he realises that there hs been exactly 3000 deaths around the fort since its funding. This is enough to propel the farmer into a fey mood. He rushes toward a craftdwarf workshop, and drive the previous occupant away. Ducim gathers what he needs. He has an artistic vision, and only through it can he truly express what he feels about the fortress.

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Ducim emerges from the work area a few days later. He has produced a statuette depicting an elf, being slain by Quula herself. Engraved on this battle scene is another, depicting the elves killing a human warrior in turn. A cycle of death and slaughter, which feeds on itself to continue perpetually. Through this artifact, Ducim expresses what none of us dared to say out loud. We seeked to destroy the goblin and eradicate them, but the bloodshed has only fanned their hatred and persistance. Now they are back to inflict pain and suffering upon the youngest of this fort. The fighting will never stop. Because war... war never changes.

Immortal-D

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #96 on: January 28, 2015, 08:30:50 pm »

Ah, I've missed this :)  The army of animals randomly turning Wild in the hallways, my small militia getting getting replaced every 1/2 year or so, good times.

Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #97 on: January 29, 2015, 01:19:49 am »

CHAPTER 44: Towerpartners
Summer of 118

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The goblin assaults and skirmishes simply won't slow down. Moments after the construction of our latest artifact, another goblin thief attacks! A young dwarf hauling clothes is ambushed, and snatched with ease. The soldiers rush after him, and snipe the goblin right before he can escape with another soon-to-be slave. The parents rejoice, and the kid is freed from the stinky bag he was stashed in. This was definitely a close call. Too close.

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The combat situation isn't the only place where we are tight. Tun is on a quern-ordering spree once more. Between goblin-robbing and a need for new bolts, there is little time for projects. We are able to dispatch a few miners to the bridge expansion, which is way behind schedule. We are short on staff, and we haven't even resumed charcoal, potash and totem production.

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Even the begginer project for the Inky Wells squad isn't complete yet. The quern room is now a statue garden of sorts, where the Duke can spend his days contemplating querns on which are depicted a goddess contemplating quern. This is the most superfluous waste of dwarfpower I've ever seen stashed in a single room. You'd think this would be all our querns. You would be mistaken.

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I call the mayor back from his woodcutting duties, and tell him to stop doing random things. The new Law-Giver is here, and as soon as he walks inside those halls, I want a diplomatic meeting. We need the food and logs from the lavender folks, as well as any bolts they can spare. He should be there any...

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Oh. Fuck. Not again. A group of trolls emerge in the path of the Law-giver, blocking his advance. Two scores of goblins are moving behind him to cut his escape path. We will have another dead ruler on our hands if we don't do something. It's time to mobilize ALL the troops.

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Asmel's squad is the fastest, and the most readily available. I order them to meet with the troll group so the humans can reach the fortress alive. I dispatch the other squads based on how far they are stationed. The patrolling squad will be intercepting the closest groups, while the troops in BASE1 are recalled, and sent to deal with the farthest enemies. By the time they reach sight of our fort, our own soldiers should have their stuff gathered. for the first time, the Magical Gloves are to join the frey, so to speak. I order them stationed in the front gate, to prevent any goblin thief from sneaking inside.

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A wise decision. Soon enough, a duo of trolls arrive from the north and assault the back gate. The Magical Gloves will have to stop them. Asmel's team is too busy running after a trio of thieves to return to the fort. Our new recruits are the closest. They move to the inner courtyard veeeery slowly. This does not bode well. They don't even have all their armor on, the idiots. The captain is an experienced warrior, and understands the gravity of this situation.

''We can't just wait for them to bash our gates, more could come that way before the fight is over. Firsal, come with me. We'll go around the fort and take the trolls from the back. When we do, the rest of you wet-ears will unlock the doors and flank them.''

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the plan is put in motion. While the rest of the army is waging a full-scale war, the newbies are staying at home having what accounts to a tutorial fight. Some get lost, others simply flee. In the end, 4 dwarves join the fight, led by the captain and Fat Firsal. The newly trained axedwarf is having trouble at first. apparently he still thing this is just sparring, and his early blows are deflected by clothing of all things. he's using his bismuth bronze crossbow as a hammer, to little effect. Firsal finally has enough, drops his crossbow, and kicks the troll as hard as he can, shattering a troll toe in the process. The captain finishes the two foes before they can deal any long-lasting blow.

The trainees have survived, but their efficiency, or even ability to mobilize at all, is incredibly lacking. They will have to do better, and improve. Maybe faster than they can imagine...

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Most of the civilians were able to retreat, but a fisherdwarf was caugh off-guard. His injuries are numerous. His chest is bleeding blood and guts. I think that's his liver coming out there. The lad may live, if we take him to the hospital fast enough. He won't be going on his own, tho. His brief moments of consciousness are spent vomiting.

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I decide not to place my faith in the fabled human efficiency.

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The goblins keep coming. there is no end to their numbers. In the heat of the moment, some dwarves rushed outside to save the lawgiver without their full equipment. A goblin elite crossbowman was quick to spot their weaknesses. Camped on a nearby hill, he managed to snipe two members of my squad, crippling them enough that foot soldiers wers able to zerg them. Two members of the Squeezing Walls were also killed in the battle, including good ol' Blind Geshud. We all knew the blinded warriors would find their doom on the battlefield, but my two hirelings were among the most experienced of this army. their death to goblins of all thing is a shock to us all.

Could the might of Whisperwhip be dwindling faster than i expected? We are not as impervious to battle as we were lead to believe. Every warrior, no matter his training, can make mistakes. Among a horde of greenskins, that mistake can sometimes be the last. That's 7 great soldiers I've lost within a year. We have 9 recruits unfit to replace their fallen comrades, and eleven such spots to fill. We can no longer afford to meet our enemies on the field just so. The walls shall be our allies, and turtling shall be our motto.

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We'll need more bolts, but smelting is progressing slowly thanks to narrow tunnels and a forge so far away it migh as well be on the sun. I ask around if we can get some steel industry going, but we lack the flux stone. Maybe the humans will provide us with some. There's got to be a use for this diplomat we sacrificed so much to save.

''Well, well, well, begins the diplomat, we meet at last.
-Pleasure to meet you, respond the mayor.
-Apologies, I was introducing myself to your well. It is a well-crafted piece of engineering.
-Hum, yes, I made it myself. Shall we, hum, move to my office instead of discussing over a bucket of troll blood?''

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I leave the mayor alone with his new guest. He knows what he's doing (he's not). I have other matters to attend. My fallen friends will have to be memorialised and placed in their designated tomb. Slowly, but surely, the gigantic crypt I ordered for our army is filling. Eleven brave warriors have given their lives for their fortress (that bitch Kikrost doesn't count, he was buried with the dingos). Now, 49 empty coffins lie in wait, eager to greet the unavoidable arrival of their special guest. Yet, Whisperwhip will need more soldiers, and new soldiers will require their own tomb. A decent burial place is the least I own to those who fall under my command.

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The crypts will be expanded, with enough room to house Twenty coffins, and as many statues and slabs. The miners are part of the military, so they know how crucial this job is. It will be done fast enough. Five years ago, as we were crushing armies and ancient beasts without a sweat, I never imagined I would ever need to expand this dreadful room. I expected a few dwarves to fall over the decades. the survivors were to become legends, able to withstand an entire siege on their own. How wrong I was. did those soldiers die because of my negligence and misplaced hubris? I have a hard time believing otherwise, as I watch the bodies of my companion join with the victims of Grousinder from only two season ago.

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I'm warned of another intrusion on our land. A kobold is advancing toward the battlefield, lured by the dead goblins littering the savannah. Before anyone can do a thing about it, the newly-trained giant leopard approaches. nobody is there to assist him. I pray to Armok that our new pet does not get killed or crippled by the small rogue.

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...Nevermind. Note to self, we need a breeding pair.

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The dwarves decide to name the beast TowerPartners. A fitting name. Should the giant leopard ever procreate, his lineage may in time become the trusted partners of the dwarves residing in this fortress. The first post-murder decision of Towerpartners is to dash toward the courtyard, and drink heavily from the booze barrels. Then he falls asleep in a pile of beer containers. he is essentially the greatest dwarven pet possible.

We have a new mascot.

Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #98 on: January 30, 2015, 04:32:14 am »

CHAPTER 45: Set fire to the rain
Fall of 118

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Something incredible is happening. It's raining! In over 21 years, there's never been a drop of rain in this savannah, up until now. Could this me a sign sent from the gods? Will the rain wash away our problems, as it will the blood soaking this northern land?

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No, of course not. It's only making people unhappy. The sound of thunder is accompanied by endless sword-clashing noises and a strange voice mumbling to itself. I consult with the mayor, and he explains that this is a known meteorological happenstance called Soundsence. We have no way to know if the rain we are experiencing is real, or just a side effect of this Soundsence thing. It doesn't seem to be washing anything away, I'll tell you what. Apparently we have no way to know if the rain has stopped or not. Weather is confusing.

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So is tragedy. The loss of so many soldiers is hard to stomach. All of Whisperwhip gather in the military crypts, where respects are paid to our fallen heroes. They are laid to rest ceremoniously, and friends and family members utter a few words to honor their dead. It pains me to see Kogan leave so early, more than any of the others. He was one of the few dwarves to truly appreciate the awesomeness of bronze as I do.

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The civilians leave the crypt. It is time for the new miners to exercise their craft. Work on the crypt expansion begins. For our soldiers, this new wing is both depressing and conforting. While the crypt reminds them of their mortality, it is also a warming thought to know that even if they fall, a new generation of warrior will be there to keep this fort safe. In a hundred years, who know, maybe the sons of their sons will walk these halls, and pay their respects to the heroes of old. Songs will be written, and tales will be weaved, by younger dwarves sharing a keg and drinking to their ancestors.

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More than ever, it is crucial to preserve the peace between our nation and the lavender empire. The mayor is doing his electoral duty for the first time in basically ever. He's moved to his office where he entertains the newest law-giver of the human lands. Being lawgiver is a very stressing position. Even after we sacrificed so much to secure his arrival, Destis still won't meet with the mayor without his bodyguards. Towerpartners is nearby, letting the humans know that if we wanted them dead, they would be dead soon enough.

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It's tougher to keep the peace with the cavern dwellers. Immortal-D is put in charge of clearing a newly arrived tribe of naked mole dogs. While those creatures aren't particularly agressive, they have a nasty habit of wandering everywhere and disturbing the workers. It's already tough getting everything done here on a good day, we can't tolerate disruptive animals just roaming the place. Especially not the friggin' temple of Kadol. Seriously, will nobody stop this mole dog from just barging into our most precious vault?

There's just so many of them too! The contests of fortifying spend about two weeks running around the mazing tunnels, chasing after each of the buggers. The situation could not be goofier even if we renamed all the naked mole dogs to ''Scoobi Doo''.

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With the caverns somewhat safe, and a bunch of iddlers, I decide to focus on little construction projects. The exit out of BASE1 is almost cleared, so let's focus on that. We just need to climb up the ramps, dig out the few remaining pillars, and then channel back to the surface layer.

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Someone collected a red zircon ore years ago from these pillars. When a young worker tries to channel down above the ore's previous location, he falls down, while someone else accidentally drop a stalagtite nearby. The fool dies. This is such a stupid death.

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Attracted by the smell of blood, a gorlak wanders by, eager to, erh... something. He died so fast, it's hard to really gauge his initial intentions. But i don't deal lightly with work-cancellation alerts. Like the old saying goes, ''Work interrupted, bolt to the head''.

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(it's 4 am, gimme a break)

The ground shakes heavily. Strange roars come from the south. smoke rises from the horizon... could it be a new titan? No, that's a dragon! A legendary magical creature, only spoken of in half-forgotten legends.

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Fedi Warmthglows has come to Whisperwhip in search of blood, fun and riches. This gigantic green beast must have slain thousands with it's devastating fire breath. Caution is advised. A year ago, I would have ordered our troops outside, to charge blindly at the beast. But things have changed, and I grow careful, if not cowardly. We will meet the beast from atop our walls, with the full fury of this army. Let's see if your breath can outrange 50 crossbows, Fedi.

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Obviously, everyone else is to stay inside. Because seriously.

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The beast approaches, greedy for gold, coins and gems. What it will find instead is a fuckton of crossbow bolts. Ready, aim...

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...Fire! As soon as the dragon takes a step up the hill, it is met with a volley of projectiles. The beast is huge; it stumbles for a moment, but gets back on it's feet, more angry than injured.

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Fedi screams about the thousand ways we will burn for this impunity, and releases a fiery breath toward our walls. All the stuff hauled by our citizens was dropped outside the fort when the alarm was raised. The shoes are burning. It is too late, we cannot save them.

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The blast of incendiary gas scorches the wall. On the prison floor, the goblins stare in fear as the phyllite blocks turn red-hot for a moment. Whatever is going on outside can't be good. The dwarves atop the wall are sparred, as the breath loses it's power inches from their face. Only smoke and heat reaches our troops. It's time to counter-attack.

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Immortal-D has learned a lot about monster anatomy after so much time in the caverns. He aims right for the spine, damaging the motor nerves of the beast. Fedi is now unable to move fully, but she still has her ability to breath. Just as it opens its mouth to fire another blast, Led the Bookkeeper shoots the dragon right in the fucking tongue, stopping the attack.

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Iton the hammer lord is also a legendary archer. In the time it takes his fellow soldiers to fire a bolt, he has already unleashed three. He gives the beast no rest, and no mercy. Iton was the one to slay Osnusm the Osprey a year ago; today he adds a dragon to his kill list. There's only one title fit for a dwarf such as him in our tongue. He is now known as the Dovahkiin.

This legendary feat of might is enough to lift the spirits of the fort's residents. A month ago, the shadow of death and disaster loomed over our heads, like an uncertain cloud. Today, we stand united, as proud warriors, killers of a legendary beast. So long as we stand united atop our wals, no foe could ever dare to tear this fortress appart!

Hey, speaking of uncertain clouds. That weird rain I talked about earlier?

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I don't think it's working...

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Nope.

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Seriously.

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Not at all.

Turns out savannahs are preeety good at catching fire.

Dwarf4Explosives

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #99 on: January 30, 2015, 06:52:22 am »

Hehheheheheheh. That was awesome. And the picture of the dragon looks pretty adorable, no matter how bad you may think it is.
Logged
And yet another bit of proof that RNG is toying with us. We do 1984, it does animal farm
...why do your hydras have two more heads than mine? 
Does that mean male hydras... oh god dammit.

Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #100 on: January 31, 2015, 01:59:31 am »

CHAPTER 46: Pincushion
Winter of 118
Dumat the Broker


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Well, this place is a fucking mess, I'll tell you what. Our booze stockpile is dwindling, our workforce management is a disaster, and now the exterior perfectly reflects the mental stability and prosperity of our fantastic home. I mean, it's pretty amazing that we beat a friggin dragon, but it kind of defeats the point if we beat it on our own turf. Dragons are supposed to have wonderful treasures. Where's this bitch's hoard? Nobody knows.

I can't wait for the next caravan. They'll be so impressed. ''Hey, nice place, I like the ominous valley of ashes and uncontained flashfires.'' ''Why thanks, wanna buy some fucking leather earrings and a cat skull totem?'' This will be disaster. Too bad the general wants me to carry the trade of the century with the not-mountainhomes. I swear this place wasn't so shitty before, I wonder if becoming the mountainhome automatically turns a fortress into a gigantic mess.

Anyway, trading. The merchants will be here any minute now, and we have lots of stuff to get rid of. Absurdly so. The ground level is full of old stockpiles filled with crap. I'm not sure our ledgers are up to date, probably something to do with our broker being on house arrest for two years. Let's see what I can find. we have apparently 400 totems made during the last year, and I can't explain how this is possible. I'm also not sure what's more baffling: that we have enough people to craft so many so fast despite the worker shortage, or that we could get our hands on 400 skulls in a breeze. Looking deeper and deeper in the pile, I find wood weapons (the last elves to die here did so 3 years ago), leather crafts (we stopped making those in 114) and rock craft (last one is marked from 111). I knew the haulers were too busy to bring all the stuff to the Depots in time, but this goes beyond my wildest and most pessimistic expectations. We have so many unsold large rags that someone could craft a whole new continent out of them. This is sad.

I asked our great overseer to go easy with new tasks. I'll need the entire population of this fort twice if we're ever to empty this stupid attic in time.

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The ledgers mention a stock of blood and milk barrels. They're not in the fort, but I find them outside, alongside the wall. They were spared by the flashfire for some reason. The general moved the depot outside, but trade goods dating back from 115 are still littered here where the old depot stood. Really, people? Nobody will haul them either. Meh, I won't get on that now. It's more important to haul stuff to the depot than it is to refill our existing stockpiles. Strangely, I find large gems in the pile, as well as an animal trap. I'm not exactly sure what we are trying to catch with 18 metric tons of bloodied milk and twice my size in gems, but it must be something big. Like I guess another dragon. I'll have a few dudes channel the place down while we wait for the wagons. Maybe that'll prompt someone to get those gems to a sounder place.

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Ah, the caravan is here! They make a detour to ensure that they are right in the fire's path. good job, champions.

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Shortly after, they realize what a terrible idea this was. They manage to drive back up the hill and go around the cinder valley of ash and blood. It is now winter. They are very late. People start hauling all those dumb bins to the depot in the meantime.

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They finally make it inside. Hope you like what we did with the place. Welcome to Whisperwhip, asshats. The merchants unpack their goods, unaware that we just want to get rid of all our trash. Between 35 and 45 dwarves are busy hauling items to the depot at all time. This is a net increase from the average, i dunno, three dudes.

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The traders are done unpacking their shit after the first week of winter. they announce that they will be leaving soon. Well, hum, okay. thanks for staying so long, jerks. Asmel's young daughter is a lazy bum, so she decides to bring stuff to a nearby workshop and lock herself inside, because it's easier than to go up a couple of stairs. At least she doesn't seem to be a vampire like her fucking mother.

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Let the trade being. We'll take all the wood, food and booze you can give us. All the steel gear too. For our cooks. Yes, that's right, our kitchen is fucking dangerous here, we'll need 9 sets of steel fullplate to outfit the cookiemakers. The main problem I have here is that the wagons are really short on everything I need to get. Probably has something to do with the mayor scorning the last 7 diplomats.

In exchange, i offer tons of rags, various wooden suits of armor, practice weapons that I don't even know why we have still, a bunch of leather armor still dripping goblin blood... And a fuckton of totems. Let the rest of the world know that we do not fear kittens. Maybe you want some leather craft? Cause I definitely don't. How can we make leather scepters? I dunno, but someone definitely did. Why do we have so many good-quality shoes? I was told mopst of the shoes burned a few weeks ago. Why then do we have more shoes than all the other clothing ites combined? People are running around barechest, with a pair of rotten pants, and three magnificent pair of shoes.

We'll need more clothes, for sure. Suddenly I regret turning most of our tanned hide stock into, erh, scepters? Look, mistakes were made, alright.

The merchants are bound to depart soon, but we have so, so many haulers bringing bins to the depot. I can probably afford to make another good trade in two days. By then more crates have arrived, all of which I trade for a silver bar. Still more two days after that. I notice we have about 300 unused barrels, leftover of purchasing booze and cheese in bulk. Roll that over here, boys. I want anything that's not an awesome piece of art removed from our stockpiles (get rid of the normal, plus and minus barrels). Come the fourth trading session, I'm done to unloading entire crate of cat skulls, and duty rock crafts dating back at least a decade. After the 5th trade, the merchants can carry no more back, and announce that they are leaving for the mountainhomes some random shithole. We have secured a good amount of fish, some booze (but not enough to keep the brewers training another year), good quality bolts, and a few silver bars. The lack of trade agreement is painful, as the magma smelters have accumulated a good stack of iron bars, which we could have turned into steel bars, had the merchants carried flux stone. At least, I purchased a trio of anvils, which we'll melt when we can spare some workers.

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Erith is back friom the workshop, and she's made a millstone! It's definitely a great thing to have, but the artistic expression is crude at best. As befit her total lack of imagination, Erith announces that she will pursue a mining career. Good job, all our miners are dying stupidly.

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As I'm thinking that, the people in charge of channeling a little hill managed to create a huge collapse. How it's even possible to botch such a simple task is beyond me. But asmel broke her bone, and some stoneworker we call ''other Kel'' has been injured and now lies unconscious outside the fort.

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Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Annnd a titan made of crystal just waltzed right into the cinder valley of blood and ashes. Quickly, the troops mobilize on the wall, ready to shoot it down.

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...it's not exactly working. Turns out, copper bolt are really good at chipping cristal glass and nothing else. The titan is not going for the wall. He'd much rather just stay there and spit on the stoneworker, other Kel, who's just lying there unconscious.

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Geshud, the familial confidence of trails (what.) is not willing to let other Kel die just like that. Despite his orders, he dashes outside and confronts the crystal king. Geshud scores the first actual injury against the shining titan, who turns his attention to the hammerlord. Geshud is agile, and dodges the first spittle of whirling ice. He knows that the creature is solid as, well, crystal, so he decides to just punch it. It doesn't work. good thinking there, hammer lord. If only you had a hammer. The crystal king is insulted that a mortal would think he could be defeated by mere fisticcuffing. He is now enraged.

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Tosid the paladin, Holy warrior of the god Limul, joins the fray. They position themselves so that they are facing the exact opposite from other Kel. When the titan breathes his icy whirl of doom, they simply sidestep it, sending the projectile flying far away from the fort and any potential victim.

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The fight goes on for like, a fucking while.

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Other Kel is able to regain consciousness, and engages in the old art of vomiting everywhere. He looks like he'll survive, thanks to the intervention of his two friends. titans can be solid as rock, and strong as mountains, but their attack usually lack the incredibly scary syndromes carried by forgotten beast attacks. The icy whirl was damaging, and packed a punch, but it didn't infect other Kel with any nasty symptoms.

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Sakzul racks up his second hardcore kill. He was the one who, over six years ago, put an end to the rampage of the dreadful Rifi and its eye-rotting filth.

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The Crystal King has been vanquished! No longer will this titan walk the earth, terrorize its denizens, and soak up an absurd amount of damage. I have to scroll through 5 pages of bolts lodged firmly in it's crystaline carcass before I can locate the body proper. That's gonna take like years to pick up.

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I order our smelters to run full-time. I want every random helm melted, that we can get rid of them and stockpile iron bars. we are upgrading from copper bolts this very moment. By the time we get our hands on some steel technology, the wmetalcrafters should be incredibly proficient with their trade. We'll have two furnace operators on duty at any given time.

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The merchants spent the whole fight bunkered inside the fort. It would have been dumb to leave as the combat raged on. As I escort them outside the fort, we pass the porcupine remains of the Crystal King.

''We'll need more bolts from the next caravan. Like, a lot more.''

*   *   *
Spoiler: OOC Notes (click to show/hide)
« Last Edit: January 31, 2015, 09:30:12 pm by Taupe »
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Dwarf4Explosives

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #101 on: January 31, 2015, 04:44:51 am »

The first screenshot doesn't work. Also, the quality seems to be just as good as it was before. And am I the only one who thinks the Hill Titan looks like a bunny?
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And yet another bit of proof that RNG is toying with us. We do 1984, it does animal farm
...why do your hydras have two more heads than mine? 
Does that mean male hydras... oh god dammit.

SkaiaMechanic

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #102 on: January 31, 2015, 02:50:06 pm »

Yeah, the quality is fine, we're enjoying it as much as you are. Also, we found the first creature outside the fort that can't be killed by bolts alone. Those will take a while to pick up. I find it more amusing than it should be that both left legs were taken out first, which caused me to imagine the beast in the picture rolling over on its side legs squirming in the air spitting ice at everything it could see.

And with all the cursed blood in your fort, perfect shoes are mandatory.
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I'm running out of dogs. I'm running out of bolts.
I'm running out of dwarves.

Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #103 on: January 31, 2015, 09:26:34 pm »

Quote
The first screenshot doesn't work.
Fixed

Quote
And am I the only one who thinks the Hill Titan looks like a bunny?
Tis a crown... Not bunny ears. Altho he does look like an angry retarded bunny when you think about it.

Quote
And with all the cursed blood in your fort, perfect shoes are mandatory.
Oh, that makes so much sence. Still, after trading the rags and burning like 4 boxes full of them, we still have a shoe overload. My guess is that invaders show up with leather armor, no pants, and regular shoes. We have so, so many leather armor with the passionate sins logo, it's absurd.

PS:I spent the day facepalming about not mentioning the trading of barrels. We got rid of like 200 of the crappiest ones (normal, -, +) and kept the good ones (* and above). There are still some around, obviously, but most of the spare have been gifted away. Will edit post to include that. That was like the most important clear-up of the lot. Freed so much storage space.
« Last Edit: January 31, 2015, 09:33:47 pm by Taupe »
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Taupe

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Re: Whisperwhip: Slowly rotting away...
« Reply #104 on: February 01, 2015, 11:20:01 pm »

CHAPTER 47: Life finds a way
Winter of 118
The Bronze General


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The dwarven merchants are still occupying our entrance, unwilling to depart just yet. They may be scared of more attacks, or something. Regardless of the reasons, I'm quite mad that they only unpacked for about 10 days, while staying here for another 2 months. Do they really want to do business, or are they here to admire the mountainhome like tourists? Regardless of the cause, one of their yak has sunk in melancholy, and spends his whole days muttering to itself in the milk and blood barrel. Life is depressing here, even for visiting animals.

Those barrels are still there, despite being moved a z-level down by the miners. I spend about a day talking with Led the bookkeeper, and we learn that milk and blood are stored in very specific categories in the stockpile menus. So are large gems. I order the barrels moved to the empty food tower, and the large gems to be stored in the gem stockpile. nobody cares. Everything remains there. Fine, you buffons, just go outside and grab some shirts instead.

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It's been a while since the recruits started their training. They spent the first months doing nothing, and the tenth member of the squad has been forgotten in a traction bench up until this spring, but despite that they are ready to get their first (well second if we count mispunching a troll toe) experience with live enemies. It is time, I decide, to send the Magical Gloves to the slaughterdome, to learn about archery. For the first time ever, the newbies actually secured ammunition. It's now or never.

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i order a few anvils smelted, and ask that the metalworkers produce some steel greaves. We have some good quality leather leggings, but that won't stop a severe blow. With better equipment, maybe some of the fallen soldiers would be still alive. We don't have much steel, but the few ingots we have are wasted while sleeping in the stockroom. Once the order is placed, I head to the slaughterdome to coach the rookies.

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Well, where are the others? Is it only the 4 of you? Ah, there you are, and... WHAT THE FUCK BEMRAK? You brought along your fucking daughter? I don't think you are taking this as seriously as you should. In a few minutes, I will instruct a random dude to pull these levers one by one. The first 4 are wired to a single enemy. The last three come equipped with two nasty greenskins. Get your aim right, we'll only refill the quivers after the first 4 levers. Ready, set, and...

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Aww fuck, really? A siege? Well, sorry recruits, but I have to go outside and like prevent everyone from being murdered. Why don't you, erhm... just pull the levers and learn archery yourself, would you? It's not hard.

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Many of the workers are currently on duty at the dumpatorium. It's a lovely purple this time of the year. They'll have to head outside, because we aren't gonna run across the savannah to kill goblins this time. The fools are so used to the army murdering shit so the workflow doesn't get interupted, that some of them ignore the alarm state. Hurry up, idiots!

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The recruits have unleashed their first troll. Deduk is the only one to figure out how to use a crossbow properly, the other just shoot feets away, or unproperly load their weapons. Firsal finally get his shit together, and proves to be a natural, and quickly scores a headshot on the dummy below.

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Firsal is on a ball. The goblin spearman blocks the first few shots, but the recruit is able to lead his target, and fill it with bolts. So far so good...

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outside, tulon the weaver is still ignoring the alert state. He realizes how dire things are too late, when he gets swarmed by goblins. a lasher toys with him for a moment, and we can only watch helplessly from the wall, as his body is being torn to pieces by the invaders.

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Spoiler (click to show/hide)
As if things weren't already tense, a couple of hyenas revert to a wild state. The first one is surrounded by war cheetahs, and will be dispatched of without too much trouble. The second, however, threatens the civilians and their pets in the small dinning room. The Magical Gloves have a new mission. They must deal with this hyena before their training can continue.

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Outside, an axe lord has entered a fierce battle against his nemesis, a goblin axe lord. The goblin asks for a lasher to help him flank our brother, giving him an edge in this fearsome battle. They all clash together for a moment, but things take a turn for the worse when our defender gets his feet chopped off. We don't know who this soldier is. He's too far away to see. He was there outside when the goblins appeared, and decided to hold the first wave so the civilians could escape. He didn't have his armor on, nor a weapon. Even the strongest biter cannot hold his own against such foes.

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One of Mistem's underling is not reporting to his post. I think we found the mysterious warrior who fell outside the wall. Vadok, or Vatok... Vatuk? or something. Your name will not forgiven, my friend!

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Monom is not so eager to forget about his comrade. He dashes outside, and single out the goblin axe lord, ending his life, and avenging a dead friend.

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Lady Asmel is in charge of holding the gate. She starts engaging the goblins who made it pass the rain of missiles falling from the walls.

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Bookkeeper Led is down there too, having the fight of his life. Led is an experienced soldier, but he is usually in charge of distributing and maintaining the equipment in the barrack, not holding the frontline. He's able to fend off a goblin or two, using the power of biting, but a troll joins the melee and sends him flying. Troll and dwarf roll around on the ground for a moment, brawling for their life. Led is pushed backward, sent flying... he just can't seem to find a break. As soon as he gets back on his feet, the troll charges at him once more. time and time again, Led find himself knee-deep in dried blood and ashes, grasping for air. Before the troll can finish him off, he manages to get his weapon back, and bashes the foe's head in. The troll gets up and unleashes another round of blows, despite basically lacking a skull. Led has to turn his brain into orange juice before the monster will admit defeat.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Our most badass of bureaucrats now stands at a net 10 kills, wich isn't half-bad for a paper pusher.

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The captain of the Magical Gloves, an ex member of the queensguard, deals with the hyena quickly, and tells the recruits to grab more bolts while going back to the slaughterdome. It's time to continue training. ''Soldiers could be dying up there as we speak. You must be ready to take their place!''

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Spoiler (click to show/hide)
The goblins are starting to retreat. We killed 15, and 4 were captured by traps, and already their leaders call for a tactical withdrawal. The numbers of our enemies were dimmer than before, only 60 or so, but they were fiercer and smarter than usual. they attacked quickly, dealt some damage, and left before we could inflict too many casualties back. Tulon the weaver is found dead, a bloody carcass near the scorched entrance to the dumpatorium. Of the fallen axe lord, there is no trace. The goblins no doubt carried his corpse back home as a trophy.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Asmel charges furiously across the cinder plains, and picks up a fight with the slowest goblin. He laughs as he dies, knowing that the strongest of his tribe have escaped, and will return when we are vulnerable. Our mighty champions are dropping dead at every turn, while the most clever of goblins are returning home to lead new groups of recruit. This does not bode well for our future.

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Inspired by the recent events, Firsal and Deduk decide to stay in the slaughterdome and train, long after everyone else has gone to sleep. Deduk was a cook who survived the civil war of 101, and she now celebrate her military career by taking on a nickname: Deduk Bronzerooted the abyss of scraping. I... actually have no idea what that could mean. But bronze is cool.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
While the training is underway, a mechanist grabs a few gears and cages, and ventures out to rearm the cage traps. we will need more live targets. The show must go on. As this ritualistic execution of our POWs is playing, new year kicks in. The dwarves party hard and strike even harder. We dedicate this evening of drunkness to the fallen Axe Lord, of whom there is no trace left. The pets have their own way of doing things, and they die simultaneouly.

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I congratulate the members of the Magical Gloves for their excelent shooting skills. They are now competent marksdwarves. Not ready yet to take on the field against experienced goblins, but decent enough that they'll be able to help from the walls with their crossbows. The Inky Lures have not learned much during their new assignment, except for ''spacial awareness''. Maybe that'll come in handy when dodging to non-stupid squares. At least they are able to mine when told to.

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Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Well, this place looks like a mess now. There will be some cleaning to do. The haulers take a quick look at the arena, eyeroll, and head out to the dumpatorium. The grass is greener than it was, they swear. Life is coming back to the valley, despite all the bloodsheds. Tragedies have befallen this place, yet nature, just like the dwarves, is not ready to give in yet...
« Last Edit: February 01, 2015, 11:21:36 pm by Taupe »
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