10th of Granite, 300 Arriving at a seashore is hard enough; you’re bound to hit water just a few yards underground, so digging to sweet rock is almost impossible. What’s more, none of the ponds in this map have fish. I’ll have to dispatch them to the edge of the wilderness, to recover the poor soul’s body.
The trees are towering, towering masses. This is not a quaint, idyllic vision, but a canopied darkness. Still too bright for my eyes, obviously.
The first thing we had to do was cut all of the trees down. Not all of the trees, I learned quickly. It has been about two years since I’ve settled, and trees have gotten big remarkably fast. After a scattering of hundreds of bundles of log and limb, I realize that none of my dwarves would build a bed to save their lives. We will be sleeping on dirt for at least three weeks.
We channeled out a defensible plot for a defensible position later down the line. I made initial branches off this, ran into roots, and set up an area for alcohol, and another for the mining branch.
As a first order of business, I wanted a strategic entry point into the inner machinations of our outpost, so we channeled out a three-width wide hall directly from the sloping, clay hole we just dug. So straight to the ocean it goes, all the way to a particularly dense cluster of trees, and by a reachable breadth of space should we ever need a place for our war animals.
Two things were on my mind: food, and drink. So, I might’ve been messing with the inventory a little, so there are a few things we don’t have. You’re gonna get mad, but don’t worry; we have two goats, two battle axes, plenty of beer, and enough plump helmet spawn to start a small winery.
24th of Granite, 300 Mining space was charted out for an expansion into the rock, which swiftly became tedious and difficult. Water began pooling at our feet. It was clear that we should have erected a barrier between us and the wet loam sooner, as its spilling water into the deeper crevices of our expansion.
Since we have so much willow, I got everyone on making the wall, but I did entirely too late. There’s a shallow, essentially difficult pool of water upon reaching the water table. We got as much wood down as possible.
It was later in the evening I took to mining the wretched rock below, hopeful that we had at last found our ancestors. I dug a pool of water quite impressive, enough to fit a whale, that I forgot myself, and swam, waded water. In fact, upon writing this entry, I want you to know I waded water for way too long. It wasn’t until getting back on my feet, a day or so later, I realized I was content. And I got to appreciate a nice waterfall; that’s always nice.
24th Hematite, 300 So the dwarves finally got the farm plots down. Turns out we have a lot of plump helmet spawn – heh – so we dug a few rooms to the immediate right to grow them year-round.
I know a lot of guys like beer, or ale. So there are three equitable plots for cave wheat. I dug them into a drainier layer of soil. I believe my intuition will serve me right, and we can possibly build a small storage space for seeds off that division.
I also made a mandate for all major entrances to be made of peach tree wood. That goes for bridges and gates, but also doors. I can’t imagine we’ll need to worry about anyone sneaking in, but just to be safe, I planned a peach tree drawbridge to be constructed at the proximal end of our strategic entry point. I plan to erect a wall around our defensible position soon, but until then we can tell that fisherdwarf to use the coast instead of the pond; he hasn’t caught anything in months.
9th of Malachite, 300 Some migrants have arrived, bringing with them a baby goat. Poor thing looks dejected at the site of ice-cold mists and the cock-eyed ravens. We have been struggling with food, so the butcher cut into one of the male goats. Our fisherdwarf is finally catching fish at the shore, and I even instructed the metalsmith to help him while we continue frustrating at the flooded mine entrance.
And I kid you not, these migrants brought llamas. Llamas. I didn’t have the heart to tell them all the grass was dead.
15th of Galena, 300 Several animals have starved. We’ve butchered all of the remaining goats. The grass here is just too dead to support anything that grazes.
I erected a wall around our defensible position. It is mostly complete, what with a few temporary work stations in place nearby. I intend to move most, if not all industries inside, so I’ll slowly be transitioning the dwarves from this primitive setup to a more dignified one.
For what it’s worth, there is now significantly deeper flooding down below.
We dug out an area for wood workshops. We can have haulers regularly stock the main pile, and we can have craftdwarves and carpenters cycle finished product and furniture to larger stockpiles.
14th of Timber, 300 We’ve officially run out of things to do. The aquifer rose another level, and I forgot wood floats, so we’re basically dead in the water, and we missed the dwarf caravan, so no trading occurred. It appears the next few years will be rife with trouble, what with no way to touch stone.
The animals have all starved to death, their corpses rotting in the brown brush outside. It’s so wet, but it’s still so dead. It’s as if nothing is capable of growing here, so harsh and cursed. We should never have tried to settle here!
9th of Moonstone, 300 The dwarves are becoming restless. Our two woodworkers are currently juggling military station and carpentry, but we’re only going through barrels at the moment because we need to get components for a screw pump.
That said, the liaison informed me the month prior that he sought mostly leatherskin bags and alcohol. I told him we needed an assortment of underground seeds and let him go. It didn’t occur to me we might be able to get blocks and metal.
The guardsmen are dejected; a man with no applicable skills or occupation, from an obscure family, claims he can be a useful toymaker. He has a dedicated workshop in the carpentry area. I figure he can create enough crafts to afford a way to stone, and thus earn his keep.
12th of Moonstone, 300 Our miner died. He helped channel and dig most of the sprawl we’re huddling in. The winter came, and the water froze. It was so interesting, I thought. Maybe if I expose the water underneath!
But alas! While chipping underneath a frozen pond, for whatever reason, our miner died. The ice fell upon him, and he was subsequently crushed by the weight of his own hubris.
16th of Granite, 301 An elven caravan has arrived. The year is over. It was a detrimental, invigorating, dejecting, dedwarfing experience. Hopefully the next rulers can coordinate our dwarves better than I.
Edit: game ended because of shenanigans.