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Author Topic: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-  (Read 943 times)

Silverthrone

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-The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« on: January 22, 2018, 12:30:51 pm »



The Chronicles of Trumpetorb

It is the first weeks of year 111, the month of Granite. A group of seven dwarves have gathered supplies and set out into the wastes of The Grand Desert. They come from The Plank of Strife, a dwarven kingdom. Their destination is the future site of Skzulvabk, Trumpetorb. They are not the ordinary party of settlers. They come from a mysterious religious order, the Wheel of Riddles.
They are seeking new land, where they can settle, build and contemplate and honour the Gods as they wish. They do not know it yet, but many of those in the mountainhome who saw them leave will later follow their steps. Can they survive in the wilderness, overcome the terrors of the deep, and carve out their holy bastion?

Follow the fates of the ill-fated dwarven monastery Trumpetorb.
Magma guarantee!

Version: 0.44.05, vanilla.
Game: Fortress Mode.
I shall be playing a game with a monastic theme in mind, and see how it goes. It recently struck me, you see, that I have never really made the most out of libraries and temples, even if I like those features. What better way to do so, and learn something new, but with a themed Let's Play? Gaze in horror upon my terribly inefficent fortress design!

D0rfing Requests:

Wish to take the vow and join the Order? Post a d0rfing request! Include name, preferred gender and labour.

Notice: I am about two updates ahead, so no d0rfings will take effect until around late summer, year 2. This is because I wanted to have a decent amount of content in the barrel at the start. We will be back in phase soon.




--------The Chronicles of Trumpetorb, First Year, 111, as written by Abbess Lithia, mistress of the Wheel of Riddles--------

Who are we?

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

We are The Wheel of Riddles, and this is our symbol.

We have come to these lands to build a monastery, far away from the politics, distractions and mandates of the mountainhomes. Here, in this place, we shall build a great temple to the glory of the Gods, and we will make regular sacrifice to feed them, so that they may keep their strength, and let the world live on.
We shall also construct a hospital, to aid strangers in need on the dangerous trek through the Grand Desert. Last, but not least, we will build a vast library, a palace to wisdom, and fill it with scripture. Knowledge is the greatest gift the Gods have given us, and we must cultivate it. We shall be a beacon of civilization in the badlands, and a a sanctuary of peace and contemplation in this savage land.

Our beliefs are simple: the Gods made this world, and this world made them. They must be fed by this world, so that they may let it live on. We worship all of the Gods undivided, for they are all of the same. Together, they form the OverGod, the holy RMK, the great blacksmith that made the world and its Gods, the holy RMK that cannot be known and can only be praised through the Gods of the World. We must feed them blood, bone and flesh, just as the world feeds us.
Some monastic groups practice celibacy. That is folly, and nothing we shall be bothering with. The Anvil and the Hammer are useless apart. Every child is an artefact, a tool, and a weapon for the dwarven race. Further, building a new fortress is a costly affair. We might need every able hand that we can get.

With me, I have gathered seven brave brothers and sisters.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Brother Lumber, brother Tambur and Sister Gumpa are our stalwart miners. They will have some very long days before them.
Brother Pammak is our woodsdwarf, for lack of a better title. There are not many trees in this region, so I doubt his axe will see much use.
Brother Spoonir is our cook, brewer and planter. He will keep us fed, and he wishes to run the tavern once we have settled in.
Brother Plogonos is our philosopher and general handy-man. He wants to manage the library, and can write quite well, which will give us a good start. He is rather particular. He has settled for 'Inkmaster' as a title until the library is built.

And there is I. Sister Lithia, Abbess of Trumpetorb, mistress of the Wheel of Riddles. I am leading this endeavour, and will run our future monastery. It is a tremendous responsibility, caring for our corporeal needs, and the needs and the hunger of the Gods.
We also brought four geese, two cats, two war dogs, some tin and copper and as much wood as we could get. A horse and a camel were also acquired, for the wagon. Rather odd companions, those two. The wagon merchant truly did stitch us up...

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

We have arrived at the destination. It is a flat piece of land in the Grand Desert, with its typical reddish sand and clay, dry shrubs and a few scattered saguaro cactuses. Many dwarves would not even consider building here. But we are different.
Grab your tools and get to work. A new chapter in dwarven history begins here, at this place, Skzulvabk, Trumpetorb. Strike the Earth!

--Part one, coming presently--
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MottledPetrel

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #1 on: January 22, 2018, 12:49:38 pm »

I like it so far, count me in. I always love a fort full of religious zealots.
Name: MottledPetrel
Profession: Butcher
Gender: Preferably male (but the chances of someone actually coming as a butcher are slim, so if it happens to be a female that's fine too)
Personality: A bit of an over eager religious nut who butchers for the gods, he claims that he helps satiate the gods by burning the still living blood of the animals when it sprays from the throat in the animal's death throws. He's been known to mount a few heads on wooden pikes around his butcher's shop as well to 'ward off the evil spirits and prevent them from stealing the departed soul of the animal'. His actual religious knowledge is little to none, but he enjoys doing what he believes will please the gods.
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Silverthrone

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #2 on: January 22, 2018, 01:02:33 pm »

Chapter One, Year One, 111,

In which the dwarves settle in, the caverns prove bothersome, we have a geological strike of luck, and receive plenty of guests.


Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Bother! It seems that the caverns are extraordinarily shallow in this region. We hardly put pick to stone until we reached them!

There is also a deep pit that connects to the deeper layers. There is a lake at the bottom, but... Well. Our armed forces consists of two war hounds. None of us can fight to save our lives. I will not take any chances with the horrors of the underworld at the moment.

This throws my carefully calculated fortress plans to the wind. Very well. We shall have to adapt. We will not lack for water, at least. We shall have to squeeze the monastery in-between the first and second cave layers.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Within minutes of writing the last note, we are joined by a swordsdwarf, who asks permission to reside in the fortress as a cave monster hunter of some description. Evidently, she saw that we were preparing to dig, and knew that we'd open the caverns for her. Very well, she brought her own sword, after all. Welcome.
She is apparently well adapted to the cave diver's life, for she is currently sitting in the shade and vomiting profusely.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Other guests have arrived, mostly standing about, waiting for trouble to get stuck in to. I cannot complain. Free guards, I suppose. They soon get the idea, and petition me for permission. I merely wave them in. Why not? The more, the merrier.
So, we are now up to four courageous monster slayer. Two humans, and two dwarves who have vomited all over our wagon. They did make brief work of a nearby honey badger.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Meanwhile, the diggers have finished the cavern by-pass, and will begin excavating the trade depot and main entrance.
Besides them, Brother Pammak is building the beds we will need, while Brother Plogonos is busy making some rock crafts that we might trade. I am thinking of starting a large souvenir industry, once we are up and running. It is an easy way to spread our beliefs, while making some money that we can spend on sacrifices and beautification.

((No, I do not quite know how one builds a bed out of cactus wood, nor anything, really, but I am impressed that dwarves can.))

And another armed vagabond shows up. I admit him without a murmur. I am beginning to think that I am the victim of some sort of scam. Wait, make that three more...
I shall have to get a connection to the caverns sorted. Then, they can heap in and earn their keep.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Oh, bother, bother, bother! After they got access, my intrepid cave explorers found another sodding shaft, and a vast magma pipe, to boot! It will be extraordinarily interesting, trying to squeeze a well-functioning monastery into this hole-ridden mess!

That said, of course, magma is a precious gift. Never before have I seen it so close to the surface, in fact. If we can channel it, we will not need fuel for our industry.
And, more to the point, we can channel it into the temple, and our sacrifices will be all the sweeter.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

And last, but not least, our miners have spotted something, far in the magmatic deep... Perhaps, perhaps. One day. We know that it is there, at least.

The main predicament at the moment is food and drink. We are bone dry. We survive on berries and cave water, truth be told. The cavern breach delayed the farm construction, and it'll be quite some time before the first harvest arrives.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Thank the Gods! Migrants! Welcome, brothers and sisters! Please, please, please pitch in and help! This unwanted security detail is eating me out of the fortress!

There are six of them, and we are now 28 souls in total.

Meanwhile, our intrepid heroes of the deep continues to stumble around, killing whatever wildlife they find and getting entangled in abandoned webs. At least, I hope it is abandoned... The last thing I need know is a rampaging spider.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

They did kill a nasty cave crocodile.

With the additional labour, we begin to stabilise the food situation. Quite a few of the new arrivals are fisherdwarves, which is quite handy. With the upper caverns somewhat pacified, I believe we dare let them out.
With our immediate survival less strained, I have also sat down and organised the monastery record. I managed to make the resident monster hunters swear at least a limited oath of faith, and take the title of 'Protector'.
My word. I counted. We have no less than fifteen armed hobos pottering about. I say, if but one of my dwarf stubs as much as a toe due to a cave critter, I shall have these freeloaders run out of town in a minecart.

Now, we just wait for the trade caravan. I hope that they brought something to drink.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Autumn has come. The first plump helmets have grown, and I think the immediate crisis is over.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The caravan has come! Excellent! I shall have all the crafts sent over at once, and throw in a few rough gemstones lying about. That ought to see us through winter.

I also finally get Brother Spoon's tavern sorted. He settles for The Joyous Belly, as the name. I approve. It is only sporting a few drops of wine, some raw fish and one table and one chair at the moment, but it will grow.

The liaison catches me on the haul to the depot. When asked on what to bring, I shout 'Booze! Meat! Maybe cheese..! What? Yes, yes, horse cheese will do, oh, and some animals, please, thanks!'

The goods in demand this season are mostly armour and drinks. That'll be a while. However, earrings are apparently also popular. Those we can make. Excellent.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The monastery, in its current state. 1, the Joyous Belly Tavern. 2, the future hospital, with a well installed in the arcade. 3, the public dormitory, until individual cells are ready. 4 is the central courtyard. 5, will be where the mayor will have his office. 6, is the trade depot, with future barracks for our guards and warehouses for export goods.

I, is where the library will go. II, is where the industry quarter will be. III, is earmarked for future quarters. I would like a balcony overlooking that chasm.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Disaster! Crisis, brothers! Crisisss! A giant cave spider! One the upper cavern level, no less! Protectors, attack!
Oh. They are all knobbing around in the tavern. I regret building it now.

Luckily, the spider seems content with sitting in its tree, for now. We shall see about a more permanent solution to the problem, when I have some battle-brothers ready.

Four migrants arrive, which is very welcome. Do not upset the spiders.
We also finally got all our guff into the depot. 1130 crown's worth of trinkets. We purchase mushrooms and random offal for the kitchens.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

With the needs of our flesh somewhat satisfied, the needs of our souls comes next. As the new year begin, I order the miners to excavate the temple.

It will be magnificent one day. Before the altar, we shall build a pit, the Gullet, in which we can cast our sacrifices. The presence of magma means that we can fill it with the blood of the gods, and sacrifice more directly.
Fascinating. It is simply fascinating, that we had no less than nineteen armed ruffians show up to shuffle around our caverns within a few months. We were also quite lucky with the magma, which does make this... Cave conundrum a bit more palatable. It has been a good start. It passed in a breeze, this whole year, but we are now settled in, and ready for anything. No one have died, and the stocks are plentiful. Praised be the Gods.
--End of Chapter One--

I like it so far, count me in. I always love a fort full of religious zealots.
Name: MottledPetrel
Profession: Butcher
Gender: Preferably male (but the chances of someone actually coming as a butcher are slim, so if it happens to be a female that's fine too)
Personality: A bit of an over eager religious nut who butchers for the gods, he claims that he helps satiate the gods by burning the still living blood of the animals when it sprays from the throat in the animal's death throws. He's been known to mount a few heads on wooden pikes around his butcher's shop as well to 'ward off the evil spirits and prevent them from stealing the departed soul of the animal'. His actual religious knowledge is little to none, but he enjoys doing what he believes will please the gods.

Will do, once applicable. I shall see if there is a good candidate handy, or I will simply make one. Glad you are interested!
« Last Edit: January 22, 2018, 01:04:19 pm by Silverthrone »
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Imic

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #3 on: January 22, 2018, 02:47:14 pm »

I demand dorfing.
Name: Imic
Gender: Male
Labour: Architecture/masonry
Please choose someone who worships a god of fortresses, building, or the like.
Custom job name: Priest of <God of architecture/building/mountains/fortresses/etc>

MottledPetrel

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #4 on: January 22, 2018, 05:20:24 pm »

Those drawings that you added to the screenshots were actually quite amusing. *Growing noises*, ha. Also, could you mention when your preplanned updates make it to the real time updates so I can start casting suggestions? As for the monster hunters, be lucky that they aren't traveling fighters in search of artifacts, other wise they'd be showing up in droves without any actual contributions to the fort.
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Silverthrone

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #5 on: January 22, 2018, 06:35:19 pm »

I demand dorfing.
Name: Imic
Gender: Male
Labour: Architecture/masonry
Please choose someone who worships a god of fortresses, building, or the like.
Custom job name: Priest of <God of architecture/building/mountains/fortresses/etc>

Will do, as far as possible.

Those drawings that you added to the screenshots were actually quite amusing. *Growing noises*, ha. Also, could you mention when your preplanned updates make it to the real time updates so I can start casting suggestions? As for the monster hunters, be lucky that they aren't traveling fighters in search of artifacts, other wise they'd be showing up in droves without any actual contributions to the fort.

I shall make sure that it comes across, do not worry. It is simply so that I do not start a thread, play for five minutes and end up savaged by giant snails. As for the drawings, I rather like doing that. It is difficult to tell if something that you can see in the game is obvious to a spectator, particularly on a still screenshot, so it is better to give a few pointers. Further, Dwarf Fortress is not exactly visual, so a few pictures here and there tends to make it kinder to the eyes, I find.

I am rather happy we had no artefact hunters. Not that we had any luck with artefacts, though. Quite the opposite, in fact...
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Silverthrone

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #6 on: January 22, 2018, 07:48:55 pm »

--------The Chronicles of Trumpetorb, Second Year, 112, as written by Abbess Lithia, mistress of the Wheel of Riddles--------

Chapter Two,

In which death becomes a regular visitor, we introduce ourselves to magma (and comes off a poor second), we vex the spider and prepare for battle.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

No time to rest. The fortress is coming along quite well, and everything has proceeded without any bloodshed thus far.

Now, however, comes the most dangerous, terrifying moment in any miner's life. They must puncture the magma chamber, so we can flood the Gullet. Gods keep you safe, lads.


Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Oh... Oh, no. No, no, no!

The pressure was higher than I thought. Brother Lumber and brother Tambur were... Gods, the molten rock flooded over them. They were killed instantly.
A well crafted figurine of Zengod the Lovely Sun, the deity of healing, crafted by brother Pammak, floats along the surface, as it cracks and breaks apart. He made it for Brother Tambur. Tambur were always particularly close to Zengod. He always carried it with him, tied to his belt, for luck.
I hope our sacrifice was worth it... Two brave miners... I shall order their memorials erected. We must never forget them.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The elven caravan arrives to a town in grief. Well, at least at a certain degree of sadness. I shall have to meet them. The needs of the living must go before the needs of the dead. We have little to offer this early, but the elves provide reliable access to animals.
Sister Vumba includes a figurine of a leech she recently made in the trade. A bit on the nose, but I rather like the idea.
We buy up all their fruit, and purchase a donkey for sacrifice. Hopefully, they will get the picture and bring more animals. I shall have to make plans for that killing floor.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I have begun some work on the hospital. I also chisel out a brief healthcare instruction slablet, giving the very basics.
Mining is on hold. We need another batch, and we only have one pick left.
Luckily, migrants arrive. An awful lot of them. They include a stonecutter and a gem cutter. Most excellent. A paper maker also arrives. I shall set aside a section to get started on our library.

I also ear-mark a few valiant souls for carrying arms. Something a bit more reliable than the Protectors.
A mason also arrives, with his woodcrafter husband. Uncommon, I suppose, but since they likely have no interest in creating more dwarves anyway, I find no reason to disagree.
I also assign one of them to manage the hospital. She has no appropriate skills, but neither does anyone else, and waiting for a proper healer to arrive is not working very well. I suppose she will grow in to it.
I do need to earmark and appoint a provost, to keep the peace. I shall give her constables when we have any handy.
Further, Brother Plogonos does not wish to be the bookkeeper, since he thinks that it will further separate him from becoming chief librarian one day. Very well, I shall elevate one of the new arrivals to accountancy. It is not very hard, and he gets better quarters.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Our temple, the Sombre Sanctuary, is built and ready. Much work remains to be done, but we have at least begun to get somewhere. That hole, the Gullet, is now filled with magma, and we have already pitted a few stray bones in it. No need to hurry, in my mind, they still have two legendary miners to chew on...
On that note, below the Gullet, I shall build a killing floor, so that we can slaughter the sacrifices in situ. I am thinking upright spears.
I also plan to expand into the galleries, left and right. I intend to put in shrines specific to some deities, for more direct worship. Of course, if we were to include every single deity that Creation has yet produced, we would have to carve the entire desert out, I fear...

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

In the undercroft, our two dead heroes are memorialised for all of history. Memorial slabs are the best we could do for them.

We shall expand it later. We have a few shelves prepared for entombment, but we will need greater tombs as our legacy builds.
What we need at the moment is metal production. We need arms and armour for our warriors, and we need more picks to rebuild our mining force. The trouble is, of course, that we must repeat the old magma trick to fuel the smelters. That will be fun, indeed...
We will also need a pig tail farm, for paper and thread. It is high time we began paper production.

There is a lot to do... I have sketched up my plans for my future quarters, but it will be some time before I can begin work on those. Most of us are still roughing it on the floors, come to think of it... Sod it, add more beds to the list.

Little Brother Skumpo has been seized with a strange mood. He has claimed one of our workshops, and is sketching pictures of quarries, cut gems and stacked leather. I have begun sketching designs for his tomb stone.
Luckily, Sister Haddok promptly has a baby, to address the balance. I do like babies. I ran a maternity home in the mountainhold once.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Help! A were-bear! Stay down, stay down!

Oh. Well. She killed a goose and fled.
That does remind me, we have a lot of starving animals hanging about the place. I shall send them top-side.
Worse is the fire imps spotted swimming in the magma tube. Bother, I need to install a grate, rather quickly... Of course, since none of the stone here seems to be magma-proof, I doubt it is worth the trouble. I shall buy some iron when available, instead.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I did make a spider experiment. I sent someone to collect some old crocodile bones for the Gullet. When the dwarf came into view (and it simply had to be sister Gumpa, our last miner), the spider hopped about on its tree, but seemed unable to close and engage. Suits me perfectly. Kindly stay put while I get some marksdwarves ready, master Eightleg.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

What. Oh, Gods. There's... Blood all over the courtyard. Not this, too...

It did not take long to learn what happened. As I feared, Little Brother Skumpo, unable to complete his work, snapped. He lunged at Brother Sleggo, who was passing by, and bit him something fierce. He promptly stoved the toddler's head in. His father, Battle Brother Huggo, saw it happen, joined the frey, and killed him, and Sister Butcha suffered terrible injuries taking him down in the vicious brawl that Skumpo started.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The brawl leaves three dwarves dead. Little Brother Skumpo, Battle Brother Huggo and Brother Sleggo. Sister Butcha, the heroine of the fight, who eliminated both of them, is dying.

I promptly have father and son fed to the Gullet. May the mountain safely digest their cursed flesh...
Damned. Never a seconds peace. Wonderful way to start summer.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Might as well get all the dying over with... Junior miner-brother Hacko! Gather your fortitude! Be brave! Release the magma!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Well. I do not know what I expected.

Seven lives lost, one gained. Not particularly sustainable... Well. Now we effectively have unlimited fuel. Just a few adjustments and our metal industry will be in operation.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Oh, bother! A human caravan, and we have nary a rock trumpet to trade! Thank you, Little Bugger Skumpo, for hogging the workshop all spring! Quick! Throw some baubles together!

We eventually scrape together some emergency crafts, some rough gemstones from the floor, some rock pottery and the damaged clothes of FILTHY MURDERER and FILTHY JUNIOR. For it, I get a pleasant amount of wood and fish. Not the most necessary trade, but I want them to return with more.
Delays, delays... I need a new miner. That library is swiftly becoming an impossible dream.
Luckily, more migrants arrive. Of course, they must be fed and housed, which is becoming a bit of a bother again.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I have also selected a little crevice in the caverns by the entrance to be the Garden of Shame, where we will slab the dwarves too disgraceful to bury on hallowed ground.

Murderer Huggo and his horrid child Skumpo are the first spirits lashed down there. It is more than they deserve, but I will not have that spectral father and son duo wreak havoc in my monastery. I will not give them the satisfaction.
Of course, no sooner have the damned things been placed when one of the new arrivals, sister Ubi, is seized by inspiration, and has commandeered a crafts workshop. She does not, apparently, have what she needs, and is sketching strange pictures. Well, well, well... This time, I am sending her a war hound, as company.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

With our magma smelting operations finally underway, we can begin to see to our defences. I have ordered a batch of bronze spears, and ear-marked a few more warrior candidates.

This shall be the first barracks. It is right by the depot, and the stairwell at the back is the only entrance into the caverns. Not a day too soon, for a giant mole recently injured the guard dog. It keeps coming back, and the Protectors does not care one bit to kill it.
We shall raise and equip three squads in total. One that will be on guard duty, another in reserve or for striking out on missions, and some armed dwarves to help the provost in keeping the peace. Maybe even a fourth group, to defend the rear entrance to the mines once that gets built.


Besides the moods business, and the constant miner deaths, everything is proceeding smoothly. I have also installed the killing floor in the temple. I am quite anxious to test it, in fact. It has been a while.
Oh, bother. I bought an ass from the elves precisely for this, and now I simply cannot find it.
Very well. I shall have to pop out and fetch one of the geese instead. Will only take moment.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

--To be continued--
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MottledPetrel

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #7 on: January 22, 2018, 09:37:23 pm »

Wait, a second were animal of the same species came? That is an unbelievably unlucky draw. Even more so the fact that its a BEAR, probably one of the most deadly were animals. I would also suggest that in future lava moving endeavors you might want to do some channeling instead of literally poking a hole in the side of the magma tube. Also, maybe you could look to see what the moods are missing, chances are it might be something easy like a cut gem or two instead of just raw gems. Liking the writing so far btw.
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wertyzerty

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #8 on: January 23, 2018, 04:39:34 am »

PTW
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Silverthrone

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #9 on: January 23, 2018, 11:36:23 am »

Intermission.

Abbess Lithia proceeds up the wide, sloping tunnel towards the surface. She is thinking of which goose would be the choicest.
She does not know that, on the surface, a hulking figure is creeping down the ditch that forms the entrance to the fortress.

The shaggy werebear is younger and smaller than most, but is still a match to any dwarf in raw strength. Its name is Wimad Gujegstrul, or was. When the moon is full and bright, names, words, thoughts and memories evaporate.
He has ignored the frightened animals in the pasture outside. He smells more promising prey from the hole. He stalks down the tunnel, difficult to see in the gloom. He hears footsteps, and can smell something promising approaching.

Abbess Lithia does not see the beast until it jumps her. It is very brief. He is bruised, but she has lost her left arm, and have had most of her ribs smashed. He hears commotion from further down the tunnel. Intoxicated by the blood, he cannot stop himself from spilling more. His wide paws bounds down the passage.


Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Abbess Lithia is dying, leaning up against the blood stained wall. Screams and growls are coming from further down the tunnel.

She is strangely grateful that she is about to die. She will not suffer the werebeast curse. It is small comfort. The Gods have never seemed farther.

-I'll... Be... Back!

The goose. The magma. Nothing will ever do, they will always take what they want. She intends to return, force her way back, and topple and kick over and ruin and harrow, until the Gods learn to fear mortals. They know blood. They live by blood. Let them drown in it.
A wry smile spreads across her face as she closes her eyes and dies.


Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Brother Plogonos and sister Pappir are further down the tunnel. They have followed Abbess Lithia. They mean to talk to her about the library. Both are anxious to get it started. It is well about time. They are going over the arguments they are going to use, to coax the Abbess to focus on the library. Finally, after so many years, brother Plogonos thinks, his dream is taking shape.

They hear the scream, the growls, and they stop. They turn to fetch help. But before they make one step, the werebear leaps from the shadows.
The struggle is brief, and the two are killed within minutes.

The slaughter, and the dwarves's valiant defence, delays the werebear. Before he can continue into the trade depot, his powers wane. His shaggy mane dissolves into smoke, his muscles shrink, his bloodied teeth retract, and what is eventually left lying on the blood-stained tunnel floor is an emaciated human boy.

Wimad Gujegstrul is a practically feral child. What little bad conscience he would have for his deeds is eclipsed entirely by his panic of getting caught. He runs for the entrance. As he has always done, when he has woken up covered in blood.
Running away for most of his life has made him quite adept at it. Within minutes, he is gone with the wind.


Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Thus, at the end of summer, 112, sister Fabrega Jadecraft is elevated to the position of Abbess of Trumpetorb.


Situation normal: all fouled up.

I do hate werebeasts. I shall run adventure mode some time, and I shall find little Wimad Gujegstrul's homestead, and I shall burn it to the ground.

Next time, an ordinary update under new management.
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Imic

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #10 on: January 24, 2018, 10:07:41 am »

Watches intently
I have to say, it's very well done. There's a good balance wbetween pictures and writing.

Rockeater

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #11 on: January 24, 2018, 10:15:56 am »

Dorf me in:
Name: Rockeater
Labour: paper maker or book binder.
presonality:Not too religus person who came because of all the books they will need
« Last Edit: January 24, 2018, 10:18:27 am by Rockeater »
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Damnit people, this is why I said to keep the truce. Because now everyone's ganging up on the cats.
Also, don't forget to contact your local Eldritch Being(s), so that they can help with our mission to destroy the universe.

Silverthrone

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #12 on: January 24, 2018, 04:16:28 pm »

------The Chronicles of Trumpetorb, Autumn, Year 112, Second Year. As written by Mistress Fabrega Jadecraft.------

Chapter Three,

In which a new Abbess rise to the occasion, stocks are taken, moods are resolved somewhat happily, dwarves are... dwarved and horse cheese is bought.

I suppose I ought to write something of myself. I am sister... No, Mistress Fabrega Jadecraft. As of this moment, I am Abbess of Trumpetorb monastery. I was a gemcutter when I arrived. My husband is brother Strimler. He is a ranger. Well, he mostly plinks away at passing wildlife with a crossbow.

I'm still surprised that she thought I'd be good for the job. That she noted me as her successor. I did not expect this. None of us did, of course, but least of all me. Well. She expected me to be able to handle this, and by the Gods, I must. I suppose I might grow into the role.

Well. I'd better give a run-down of the situation, a state of the fortress.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)


We currently have 66 souls in the monastery. A staggeringly large amount of them are former fisherdwarves in rehabilitation. I suppose the market for fish back home must've collapsed. A lake drainage, or some sort of sudden carp invasion, I don't know.
On a different note, Scholar sister Nordara is spell-binding half of the fortress with her stories. I must get her some paper one of these days.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

This is the monastery, at the time of writing. One thing of note are the two stone coffins on either side of the undercroft. They belong to the Abbess, and to poor old brother Plogonos. I'll pretty them up later, but I think they will rest happily in there.
The industry quarter has been built, but I might have to expand it, at some point. If I can't do gemcutting, someone else must. It is also well about time to get the workshops out of the main courtyard and get it smoothed down.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The metalworking section is also completed and up and running. Thanks to the sacrifice of brother Hacko, we have infinite fuel for the forges.
Also pictured is the future dungeon, beneath the Provost's office. I'll get the chains installed soon. Unfortunately, it will have to be zinc chains.

The first and foremost is getting some guards equipped and trained. Before she was killed, Abbess Lithia had some bronze spears scheduled. I order up a few helms and shields, too.
I appoint Battle Sister Smiska to be the militia commander. Mainly since she was the first of the ear-marked warriors I could find. If I need to grow into the Abbess role, I am sure she can grow into the Battle Sister Commander role, too.
Brother Sibir, the husband of late sister Pappar, asks to become part of the squad. Since he is, apparently, a competent sword-dwarf, I sign him in. He's the most qualified one yet, honestly. A swords-dwarf, and Competent, at that! Shame we're using spears.

So, with that sorted, we've got five brave souls in the barracks, training away. I do hope they don't kill each other.
I also appoint Provost Dragra, and give her an office and quarters. Better late than never. I hope she enjoys her zinc chains, when they arrive.


Something strange happened earlier. I had no less than two visits to the office. Well, office. I haven't got an office. Another thing that I need to get sorted. The previous Abbess used a disused room in the hospital, and so have I.
Anyway, two dwarves came in. One claimed he was a... Priest of some sort, of a god I have not heard of. Architecture and masonry seems to be his passion, which suits me perfectly. The Abbess... Former Abbess was the only architect we had. He wanted that job, and was quite pleased when he got it. Brother Imic was his name.

Then, there were Brother MottledPetrel. He was upset that he was off butcher duty. That is, apparently, his main religious calling in life, the proper killing of animals. There must have been a mistake somewhere, since we could always use a butcher. I put him on butcher duty, and that seems to have done the trick.
I suppose I could give him the exclusive office of pulling the killing lever in the temple, but we will need more administration until I can do that.
I amended the census, and gave them two fancy titles, so I can keep track. Master Butcher and Chief Architect.

Wait, wait. Further amendment. Brother Rockeater wishes to be on the bookcrafting force. I think he is also on Team Start the Library Already. I'll be happy to oblige.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Sister Ubi finally succumbs to madness. Unlike previous mooders, however, she doesn't start biting and kicking. She breaks into tears, mourns her never-to-be-made gold cup of skulls and menacing with spikes and some other details I fail to catch. It has rather puzzled the war hound we set to guard her. No, she's being the respectable sort of loony, commendable, in comparison to certain other former brothers I could name. She mostly ambles about now, beating her head against the walls. Blessed be the deranged.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The caravan arrive. They are polite enough to not inquire about all the blood.

My predecessor apparently put in a massive order of cheese. Chiefly horse cheese, it seems. With 5000 to burn, I honour the agreement and buy a few pallets of it.
I also send along a pair of silver figurines, still warm from the forge. It never hurts crossing a few palms with silver.
One of the figurines was of horses, the other was, oddly, battle sister Smiska embracing two kangaroos. Some sort of in-joke I'm not party to, I suppose.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Now, someone did eventually get that goose secured on the killing floor. It works satisfactory. Brother MottledPetrel will be pleased.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Another thing I ought to do is sort out the entrance. It's a grassy dip in the ground, at the moment, anything can wander in. Werebears seem common in these lands, and I'm not going to let them get me.

Right, then. That's a decent to-do list sorted.
Excavate that sodding library.
Get paper production going.
Also clothes. We're running low, and some of the original settlers will be scuttling about in nothing unless something is done. We can just import the cloth, and have it all tailored up here. Hopefully, we'll have plenty of excess thread from the books production line.
For security:
Pasture all animals inside.
Shore up surface defence.

I have also commisioned statues to both Abbess Lithia and the three miner heroes. This place could do with a statue gallery.

Gods, I rather like being in charge!

End of Chapter Three
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Silverthrone

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #13 on: January 24, 2018, 04:29:28 pm »

Watches intently
I have to say, it's very well done. There's a good balance wbetween pictures and writing.

Thank you kindly! It is good to know that the balance is right. It is always a bit tricky, particularly with Dwarf Fortress. When in doubt, I shall try to throw in a (badly made) illustration.

Dorf me in:
Name: Rockeater
Labour: paper maker or book binder.
presonality:Not too religus person who came because of all the books they will need

Done and d0rfed, guvenor.

Wait, a second were animal of the same species came? That is an unbelievably unlucky draw. Even more so the fact that its a BEAR, probably one of the most deadly were animals. I would also suggest that in future lava moving endeavors you might want to do some channeling instead of literally poking a hole in the side of the magma tube. Also, maybe you could look to see what the moods are missing, chances are it might be something easy like a cut gem or two instead of just raw gems. Liking the writing so far btw.

Yes, werebears seems to be the theme in these parts. Rather rotten luck, that it killed both the abbess and the hapless old librarian. As for the magma, it seems... Much faster than I remember. It has been a while since I played with magma, however.

EDIT: We are also now in phase, and the updates will now be in 'real time'. You can now cast suggestions.
« Last Edit: January 24, 2018, 04:37:28 pm by Silverthrone »
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Imic

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Re: -The Chronicles of Trumpetorb Monastery-
« Reply #14 on: January 25, 2018, 02:49:51 am »

I would suggest that for this form of endevour, you should find a list of all the gods in the save that our kingdom worships, and post a list of them in the OP.