https://dffd.bay12games.com/file.php?id=17276So I appear to have been reincarnated again.
I am Kesperan III, my mother is Jennifer the mayor, and my dad is Cape Man, the local clothier. I am three years old, and like to spend my time gathering sand.
It seems I am to watch over this fort for a while. Let me see.
What a mess. Nice block floor covered in bits of elves.
We set to work cleaning up the mess and melting down useless goblinite and shoddy workmanship. Poor quality steel gear is recycled, and work groups set up to restrict only our most skilled weapon and armoursmiths to the forgehalls.
Tons of garbage is sent to the atom smasher.
We have no plant cloth - my dad Cape Man is in a secretive mood and demands plant cloth!
Thats the problem with covering the natural world in granite blocks, not a lot of room to grow stuff.
We scrabble on the surface for some seeds and manage to conjure up a few scraps of hemp cloth, which Cape Man surprisingly turns into a sleek headscarf. I cannot be alone in thinking he would make a Cape?
We secure some surface farms in case this happens again. A small grenhouse is constructed to the north of the main entrance.
It is now summer 181.The humans arrive to trade. It would appear their wagons have bypassed our inaccessable trade depot deep underground. I might need to look into fixing that. As we load up our worn socks and various trash to fob off to the humans, a sand titan appears.
A slavering coral quadraped. Time to send out the militia. All three squads descend on the hapless beast including a semi-naked Salmeuk.
When I later read the combat report, it appears Packmaster Vabokkogan landed the killing blow by *checks notes" scratching its upper body off?
Trade with the humans seems to have stalled.
This may be due to the fact that the broker is also our Mayor, who is also quite convinced she is a militia dwarf from Gateheaven.
My mother Jennfier Dolushiteb would prefer to lurk naked in the barracks than attend to the delicate trade negotiations, so a new broker is chosen.
Self-Defeating Volalnomal is given the task. We trade some bloodstained elf clothing for some fresh cloth and leather, and a handful of seeds.
A forgotten beast arrives in the caverns, Ejem Pasmuggalka, a winged cobra with a poisonous bite. It can fight the other two eldritch horrors roaming down there.
A whole bunch of ostriches appear and leap into our cave traps. A nesting area for them is dug out and furnished. Ostrich omelets for everyone!
Several goblins are convicted of disorderly conduct.
Jarvis Seboomosp is beaten to death, as is Lady Consort Kiz Madourar.
That should teach them to hold their drink.
It is now Autumn 181.
The ostriches have settled into their pasture, and the first batch of 13 giant eggs is laid. Will they be fertile? Time will tell.
With the setting of a microline slab, the resident ghost of Thikut the bone doctor is finally put to rest - he had been haunting the library for some time.
We are running low on tattered elf clothing to sell to the merchants, so begin making some gold crafts. They should fetch a few urists.
The elves are nowhere to be seen, so I send one of the squds off to see if they can find the steel spear that was lost in Earthenjungles - The Savagery-Hermit of Healing, stolen by foul goblins.
(They proceed to spend the next year drinking and carousing around the world in every known inn and tavern and find precisely zero evidence that The Savage-Hermit of Healing still exists).
Another squad are sent to deal with the badly injured forgotten beast Vemini Mineburials. This blind firebreathing alligator is guarding a strange obsidian gem cluster that I would quite like to get my hands on...
The beast has slain three other forgotten beasts in its long lifetime, and its body is a mess of scars.
Highlights of the battle include Avolition The Enforcer crushing the beasts tongue with his spear, The Blinder of Cyclops chopping its neck in half with an axe, and the Chief Medical Dwarf biting it in the tail.
It dies in a shower of teeth and fire with a spear through its brain, though none of the dwarves is singed. The doors are barricaded once more as the flames rage through the deepest cavern layer.
The caravan from the mountainhomes arrives, alongside an
elven diplomat. How curious. We trade some crafts for silk and leather from the meagre caravan.
I set some useless bards and poets to craft menacing spikes and chain leggings in the hopes of improving our chance of a new artifact weapon or armor. It pays off when Minkot the dancer is struck by a fey mood.
She makes a pair of billon greaves - why she did not pick from the plentiful steel stocks is not immediately clear. From now on she is "Billon" Craftdive. At least we gained a legendary armoursmith.
Now that the cavern fires have died down, we mine the obsidian spire and find a variety of precious gems. No angelic metals though, sadly. A few peasants are injured by falling trees as the mushroom forest is clear-cut to stop the spread of the fire, which still burns from the battle with the giant alligator beast.
GreenMachine suffers an injury to his foot, but I am sure he will pull through. It seems we need a traction bench for his overlapping fracture - the dwarves are about to start making this when a bloodcurdling scream erupts from the surface.
Werereabbit! It immediately falls into a cage trap. He is quickly chained up and slaughtered by the militia.
It is now Winter 181.
Winter falls, and Maloy III the dungeonmaster withdraws from society. His months of crafting poor quality metal spikes could be about to pay off, as it appears he intends to craft a weapon! He claims a magma forge, and gathers three bars of rarest platinum before working secretly.
I hope for a warhammer, and prepare for a giant corkscrew.
Maloy instead crafts
Zatamgor Osorthukkan Lular, Cloutpits the Kingdom-Amber of Rooters, a platinum spear! It is studded with platinum. It is encircled with platinum. It menaces with spikes of platinum. Not known for his imagination, is our Maloy.
We now have a new legendary armorsmith and weaponsmith and set them both to work. We make many more steel arms and armour, melting down anything that doesn't make the grade.
The Bridges of Paper have been away for many months now, searching for the artifact spear that was stolen from our last fort. I hope they return home soon. (They're lying drunk somewhere no doubt).
Our first batch of ostrich chicks hatch. These are wonderful beasts - eggs, meat, leather and no need for pesky pasture. I set the young birds to be trained as soon as possible, in the hopes that they become tame.
I discover that we do not appear to have a leatherworks. This is soon rectified, and we begin crafting backpacks for the militia.
On the 19th of Opal, McGann and his troops return to Longnight after their long search for the ill-fated spear. They bring many tales and gruesome hangovers but are otherwise empty handed.
An old friend from Gateheaven decides to pay a visit. Horny Sage the were-rhinocerous.
It thunders down the central staircase as the militia surge up to meet it. It barrels past a few children gathering sand. My little brother Mistem fights bravely, but his fate is sealed.
Tom the swordmaster slashes off the beasts head in return, and no more dwarves are bitten.
Sadly, my brother is destined to be a were-rhino.
A small room is carved for him, lined with his favourite metal nickel, and he is interred there, forever?
A goblin damned butcher arrives. He looks very shifty. He claims to be Ilral Uzolrir, a beast hunter. Under interrogation he reveals he has corrupted an elf bard to be an agent in Longnight, and is responsible for the theft of the artifact Roughblazed.
The goblin is imprisoned, and his knife-eared agent is beaten to death.
It is now Spring 182.
A human bard dies of old age, suddenly while hauling a boulder. Life is cheap in Longnight.
My poor three year old were-rhino brother is finally coaxed into his eternal chamber. I feel sorry for him, but he has superior engravings, a stockpile of toys, and a masterwork nickel table and chair to keep him entertained for the next 170 or so years.
A skilled armorsmith, who has spend many months churning out poor quality leggings, is strucken by a fey mood. She creates
Asgethdatur Ikalabanullung, a thin steel right gauntlet!
We decide to tackle the rich seam of precious gems adjacent to the forgehalls, and a ball of fire and magma erupts. We set up a pond and use a great deal of buckets of water to douse the flames. A demon of filth is uncovered and quickly slain, and then a more vicious beast appears - a hedgehog demon!
It thunders up the stairwell as the militia rush to meet it.
The swordmaster Fit hacks off its brutish head with elegant precision.
A forgotten beast attacks in the second cavern layer. It is slain, but some of the soldiers inhale its vapours and begin vomiting.
I do hope the healers will be able to save them. The captain of the guard seems most affected. After a while things seem to settle.
No further demons are uncovered.
It is now Summer 182.
The humans arrive bringing meagre offerings of food in return for worn socks.
A poet is taken by a mood and makes an intricate platinum gauntlet - how lovely!
Gomathobot Shakethrinal!
We finish creating a stone ramp to the uncovered surface to allow wagons to enter the trade depot. It is protected by a platinum bridge and clear glass roof.
It is now Autumn 182.
In perhaps my greatest achievement as overseer, the dwarves of Longnight are now expert ostrich tamers.
A whole bunch of elves show up to celebrate this breathtaking moment.
With a cackle I pull the lever that links the surface to the cavern lair, where two forgotten beasts still roam - hopefully they will say hello to the elves. The two beasts leap into the elven ambush in a hail of wooden arrows.
The elves number over a hundred, though seemingly no beasts accompany them. The forgotten horrors roar in defiance as the sky blackens under the hail of flimsy wooden arrows.
One beast falls, its hide pierced scores of times. The other panics. Jaguars appear from nowhere, and the sons of Romekanan come to meet them. The combat is over quickly. Dwarven masterwork steel is no match for wood, and 110 elves are slain within a few moments.
We barely have time to recover the few injured bards and poets before another siege appears. This time it is the filthy goblin-infested Wordy Dye seeking parley. They seem to be mainly goblins claiming to be of dwarven culture, and are crudely armoured.
A further 40 or so goblins are slaughtered. The gabbro road is stained with blood, at the loss of two militia - Guts the human Pikemaster, and an elven recruit.
There are so many corpses and so much battered equipment on the surface - I gleefully trade the majority of it to the next caravan, and dump or melt the rest. It takes many weeks to clear the majority of the mess from the sieges, and the furnaces burn night and day smelting the goblinite.
A forgotten beast made of flame invades the first cavern layer, setting most of it ablaze. It has no way to enter the fort.
A peasant becomes a legendary gemcutter after crafting a
sapphire barrel in a strange mood. Equal parts beautiful and useless.
It is now Winter 182.
A duo of rodent men attack from the deeps, immediately falling into cage traps. Months afer the last double siege, the furnace operators still have not completed melting down the huge arsenal of steel and iron weapons and armour littering the surface. They continue their solemn task.
"Thorpedo" is a strange dwarf. She sat in the river, on the edge of the fortress, unsure if she wished to join Longnight for several years. She swam in the river for so long she became a legendary swimmer, before deciding one day to enter the fort as a lye maker.
On this fine day, however, she became a weaponsmith - in a secretive mood she created
Gathilgur, a steel battle axe. It's name translates quite horrifyingly as "Sensualbowels" and it is immediately given to Olon, master axeman militia commander of the most recently made squad, The Last Dragon. She will now be known as Olon "Sensual Bowel" Notchedcrypts.
It is now Spring 183.The last of the siege equipment has been melted down, the last chunks of goblin and elf fed to the atom smasher, the last leopard skinned and gutted.
The military remains strong, and is kitted in exceptional or masterwork steel gear. The forgehalls are staffed by legendary smiths. The kitchen and brewery stocks are in fine fettle.
It would seem now is a good time to hand the reins over to the next Overseer.
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Topic: Longnight the Umbral Souls: Building the largest world conquest fort series (Read 35856 times)