My current fortress (v0.44.12) has demonstrated that there is a certain amount of corpses that if exceeded in one area, it will likely lead to at least one more corpse each time a dwarf attempts to remove one. This is it's story so far:
Searchchannel's major industry was set up under the mountain. Visitors kept stealing the books from the library and their sleeping bodies covered the temple floor. For this reason, visitors were given their own temple/inn/library much closer to the surface with some beds and a nice dining area. A large tomb was also started after a siege of six crossbow goblins was chased off by the mostly unarmed militia, some of which were struck down while closing with the enemy with the rest perishing afterward from their wounds and mental trauma. The tomb had never-ending coffin production built inside to prepare for demand. Over one-hundred coffins filled a quarter of the top level of the tomb before the event came that proved this to be very insufficient.
A single weregila monster began it all. It chased a Fisherdwarf toward the throng of armed visitors who had heard that "this was a good place to hunt monsters." It caught the Fisherdwarf just before reaching the stairway and began to scuffle with him. The worthless glory seekers did nothing with a Human pikeman standing fewer than five meters from the beast, watching the whole thing. Six of the Fisherdwarf's friends came to his aid and pummeled the thing into submission until the sun rose and they chased off the naked human. With no serious injuries, everyone went back to working or continued to mill about as they pleased. Stories were told, dances danced, alcohol guzzled, mussels prepared and consumed, while the new well was built. All was cozy and prosperous.
Seven Farmers and Fisherdwarves were enjoying a late-night snack of *pecan biscuits* in the Brunch of Crypts, surrounded by singing bards and dancing elves. No one suspected the infection within. The full moon rose and the peace was ended forever. There was a lot of scratching and biting with many teeth sent flying through the room, but the formerly passive monster hunters fired volleys of bolts through the crowds, crippling the werebeasts. Pikes and flails finished the job, and Dwarves began interring their deceased friends in the tomb. Each broken tooth was reverently carried one at a time to the awaiting coffins. Miasma covered the visitors' area where blood and vomit awaited cleaning. It looked as if the cheery atmosphere could be restored.
A vile force of darkness arrived in great numbers. The goblins pursued scholars on the fringes of the area while a flock of beak dogs and their troll compatriots headed for the meeting area. On the west side, a valiant macedwarf fought and dodged for over a day, crippling many beak dogs and trolls before she succumbed to exhaustion next to two scholars still discussing bandages. The east side was a massacre. Bands of elite human mercenaries fled from lone beak dogs, leaving the scholars and performers to a messy fate. The human
cowards warriors fared poorly on the surface, always scattering and fleeing from individual goblin lashers until they were wounded. Even then they would often refuse to fight back against the lightly-armored goblins so that they could continue their futile attempts to escape.
Even the trolls were greatly
stressed by the pile of corpses they had helped to create. The army grew bored with the sport and departed except for a troll with a mangled foot who continued to destroy every building while being stricken by melancholy. The surviving Dwarves had sealed themselves off from the surface where they have yet to return after three years. None remained to bury the dead,
but optimistic visitors continued to arrive despite the carnage.
The meeting area was paved with piles of rotting corpses and completely coated in multiple layers of blood and vomit.
Those who pretended that such a sight was normal, relaxed among the fetid room listening to tales while pacing atop broken bodies and severed limbs. Others discussed history, ignoring the dozens of corpses beneath their feet.
The minds of the rest broke at seeing the great and disturbing horror of it all. Many acted on their distress by stumbling obliviously through the crowd while others repeatedly slammed themselves into walls, or struck others who had fainted until they themselves passed out from exhaustion.
Finally after months, four migrants came to enjoy the prosperity they'd heard so much about. They had heard of the danger, but upon entering the Brunch of Crypts, they became forever scarred.
One of the new arrivals went mad immediately and stumbled about with others. The rest were set to the task of burying the dead. Each time they tried to remove one of the exhibits from the meeting hall, however, they instantly forgot their task and became horrified. Not one piece of a body was removed from the room in months, and only a few corpses from the surface were interred. The weregila monster attacks continued, but were insignificant compared to the bludgeoning and strangling performed by the insane. Eventually only one weregila monster elf dancer remained who spent all of his time attending a meeting with himself among the ponds, to rationalize what he had seen. Then another goblin invasion arrived.
The army remained near the ponds and trees where they cut down many scholars and
cowards adventurers who were seeking information about the nearby area, but promptly fled from their own shadows after one glance at the place. The invaders did not dare to approach the Brunch of Crypts. The odor could be seen and smelled emanating from the place along with the screams, shouts and whimpers of those inside. The last werecreature assumed his monstrous form and was slain by the goblins without landing a single blow.
The three distressed surviving Dwarves walled themselves inside the tomb and attempted to prepare it for more burial. Their efforts were minimal among the constant tantrums and fits while one of them simply stood in one place for months, attending a meeting with himself to convince himself that he could get over this and move on. He stands there to this day.
When the weather grew colder, the besiegers left and new Dwarven migrants arrived. One went insane after being horrified by a single mangled skeleton. The rest pressed on to experience for themselves the horror that was and is the Brunch of Crypts. Few survived the emotional trauma. Each one took the time to view every single mutilated corpse, which drove most of them mad.
The rest of the surface Dwarves strive to lay the dead to rest. Many have decided to attempt to clean a bit of blood or vomit, but none have yet to succeed at the task. The Brunch of Crypts remains a living memorial to its own horrifying gruesomeness. Once a new piece is added, it can never be removed. Even the insane only beat each other with objects torn from the bodies of the living. The Dwarves who live below have been endlessly producing slabs. Armok whispers every detail of each death above to those below. The engravers carve memorials to keep the dead resting. Those whose family were trapped above occasionally break down in tears over the decay of their loved ones' untended corpses. Those who live above and maintain a semblance of sanity still have hope that one day this can be a glorious and lavish place of art and industry, but they must trudge through the terrifying squalor until they find a way to achieve their dreams.
The End (for now).
I could remove the zone to stop visitors from coming, but it's such a
fun feature that I'd rather not. Walling it off might make it more manageable, but I want to see if it's reclaimable instead of sealing the living dead inside and calling it the tomb that it already is.
I hope you enjoyed.
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Topic: Corpse Critical Mass (Read 2787 times)