Entries from the diary of Etur Isankel:
We are making our way downward. It’s careful work, which means its also slow work, but ultimately, Kogan’s caution is correct here. If we hit the caverns from the wrong angle, it could be all over for all of us in a matter of minutes. Plus, it means more stone for me to work with, which is good by me.
Speaking of stone I’ve worked with, the caravan arrived today. My stone crafts were traded for desperately needed wood, and some additional food. With this wood, we can finally turn the rich hematite veins here into iron, and then an axe. Miners are mining out space for a bunch of workshops some of which will be filled with furnaces.
Because of the cramped quarters, I’ve made a number of friends and enemies – well, if I’m being honest, I shouldn’t flatter myself, they’re merely acquittances - here. I’m coming to quite like that, actually – there’s a degree of chaos, but also, it’s a much more honest society here, I think.
<Entry break>
Apparently, a part of our ceiling was made entirely out of tree roots.
Stepping back: Once the furnaces were set up, we were able to make an axe pretty quickly. At the same time, bedrooms were finally ordered – I love the chaos here, but I am looking forward to sleeping in a bed for once. We’ll also make armor, which will be helpful against the undead. Their fists have been known to punch clear through heads, but decent armor with a half competent wearer can render them nearly defenseless.
Anyway, this meant that most of the surface’s trees had to come down, so we cut down everything on this side of the river. I’ve been arguing with Kogan about this, and he’s acceded to the fact that it is a RIVER, not a fucking brook, which is important: a river can’t just be walked over.
One of the larger trees punched a hole straight through the roof when we cut it down. We floored it over with clay, but it was a bizarre moment when the sunlight reached the area we’d cut out for trees.
<Entry break>
Things have continued to improve. We’ve walled in this side surface, and newcomers have arrived to swell our numbers. We’re starting to feel like a proper fortress. We’re building cages and a structure with a bridge to let in caravans. When we’re not expecting anyone, we’ll leave the bridge open to force the undead through the cage traps underneath.
There’s some muttering about how awful it is to be rained on. I thought I’d be unsympathetic, but I’ve come to respect the other dwarves down here. I guess if you can survive here, I’ll put up with some whinging about the mucus.
<Entry break>
A new baby! A welcome sight – a reminder that hopes and dreams can be fulfilled even in a place like this.
We’ve built a bridge across the river above the wall. Hopefully, that’ll allow us to make a defensible position up against the walls, and also allow us access to the wood on the other died. We’ll need more bedrooms for the number of dwarves that keep coming, so Kogan ordered additional bedrooms dug out. We’ve finally filled them with beds. I’m ecstatic about the whole thing – I enjoy the chaos here, but I’ll enjoy a bed beneath my back even more.
<Entry Break>
Our conditions continue to improve. The elves came by – we traded them more stone crafts for more food. We’ll need the additional food until we can get our own food stores going. I suggested we just steal all their stuff, but Kogan had to be all nicey nicey peace and love about it and say that we needed their friendship. Mostly, I was giving him a hard time: Their living bodies would be unlikely to be much trouble for even the undead around here, but their undead corpses would likely be more than a match for us.
I suppose I’ll have to nurse my frustration about not being able to just take the food with the beauty of my smoothed stone room. (sarcastically) What will I ever do with myself?
<entry break>
The last few weeks have been weird. On one hand, we’ve begun preparing for our eventual conflict with the undead. Kogan called up someone to be a militia captain, and he assembled a squad from the new migrants to be macedwarves. They’ll wear metal armor, with a single chainmail underneath. This means we needed additional charcoal and steal ordered, because Id’s calculations didn’t account for the need for shields.
Plus, the bridge system which will allow in caravans has been successfully opened, allowing us to put in traps underneath it.
On the other hand, we had a little panic. One of the boyers withdrew from society, and started demanding an appropriate workshop. We put one down, and he took a couple pieces of wood and made an artifact cashew wood bow called Dalemishlun. I ribbed Kogan about his elf sympathizing paying off, with us making elven artifacts, and he said it’d make a beautiful toy for display.
<Entry Break>
The bridge across the water has been reinforced by a wall stretching back into the base, and cage traps placed inside that wall. That way, if any undead come across the bridge, they’ll fall into the traps instead of into our fortress. Kogan ordered a staircase down to the far side of the river. Contact with the undead is imminent, but we’re well prepared, with armor and maces, and a solid defensive structure. Onward!
<Entry Break>
Kogan is trapped on the far side of the river.
Bridges do not support staircases.
In a panic, we’ve begun building a segment of floor over to support a second staircase, which we’ll lower to Kogan to get him out of where the dust from the staircase falling off carried him to.
I have to believe in us – we’ll get him out.
<Entry Break>
The second collapse. (Kogan in the river)
Kogan drowned
Diary.
I do not know how to account for what has happened to us today.
The floor was built haphazardly, and a second piece fell onto the ground.
One of the carpenters was carried into the cage trap, but she’s fine.
Kogan, he-
The collapse, it made another wave of dust.
My beloved, my perfect man, he-
He’s in the river.
He’s in the river and he’s not moving.
<Entry break>
Diary.
I apologize for my shaky hand. I am in a hospital bed. I have had a horrible, trying day, and I am not able to fully process the horror I’ve seen.
I saw Kogan rise from the river, and rushed to greet him. It was a miracle! There he was, standing upright, walking oddly, but he was half-drowned, right?
It was only when I got up close that I realized what I was looking at. That, and when he punched me. He was the undead.
I fought back for all my life, and I got a few good hits in - a few good hits against my lover’s corpse, what a fucking world, what a fucking place. But the undead do not tire, and we, the living, do. The corpse kept going even as I tired, and pummeled me horribly. I thought I was going to die.
I… was OK with that, actually.
He- No, it. It hit me hard enough that my lung doesn’t work quite right. It knocked out my teeth.
I scrambled back a way, though, and the force animating my lover’s corpse shambled right into the cage traps he himself had ordered.
Even in death, his orders protected me from his own corpse.
We’ve elected a new leader. I didn’t vote- I was in the hospital, and I’m not sure I could have brought myself to, even if I’d been conscious.
I’ll be in this hospital a while. While the potentially deadly parts of my wounds have been treated, the wound is impossible to dress until the next caravan comes, as we don’t have any cloth, which means the doctor will keep me under surveillance to watch for infection.
<entry break>
They have ordered Kogan’s body moved to a spot where the cage can be hooked up to a lever. They intend to execute it. The army is in place. I have begged them to reconsider, to search for some cure for his malady, but no one listened at all.
<Entry break>
My lover’s corpse was outnumbered and outmatched. They succeeded at mangling it. I do not know if this was correct. I do not know if there truly is no way to return the undead to sanity. If I were not so laid up, I might have stopped them from the deed.
The fighting was extensive. The undead do not go down like normal people do, instead, they continue writhing even when extremely injured. That certainly happened to Kogan’s corpse. When I saw him one last time, his head was absolutely destroyed. Mangled, someone called it, and said that it meant he wouldn’t rise again. But it wasn’t just his head. In the fighting, one of his feet and his opposite wrist were similarly destroyed. Anywhere I looked, his body was badly damaged. His bones were broken, his joints sat at wrong angles – he was a terror to behold.
My Kogan. My hero. Our leader. He’s dead. He’s really, truly, permanently dead. He’s too destroyed to bury. We’ll mark his grave with a slab.
I don’t know what I’ll do now.
1) This fortress is, uh, hard on its narrators. Does anyone have any ideas on what to do with dead narrators? At some point, if the fort doesn't crumble soon (which it still might, tbh) I'd like to honor them in some ways, and I'm open to suggestions for how.
2) Does anyone want to be dorfed? I expect anyone who *is* dorfed won't last super long, but still, it'd be fun.
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Topic: Frostycopper: an audiovisual community story about a terrifying, scorching biome (Read 2974 times)