Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Jim Groovester]

Was the flood in Fountainsprings secret room also an attempt to kill Stravitch?

Either he really is indestructible or you're just not applying enough dwarven ingenuity to the problem.

[Heavy Flak]

Was the flood in Fountainsprings secret room also an attempt to kill Stravitch?

Either he really is indestructible or you're just not applying enough dwarven ingenuity to the problem.

It was partly an attempt to kill him (And Johnny, Archin and Sgt. Pepper, to see if I could), and partly to further the story.  Just because little Lanni Underriver is dead, doesn't mean she can't live on in a further annoying capacity. 

I had Stravitch locked in that back room until the whole area was 7/7's, and without swimming skills he still managed to get out without dying.  I was surprised, to say the least.

[Vactor]

I'm hoping you'll be goodnatured enough to always leave his survival a possibility, if its too stacked against him i have a feeling he might come out of your computer and bludgeon you in your sleep...

[Stravitch]

Even as this posters character, I'm fully prepared to see Stravitch go, whenever that time comes, kicking and screaming and taking as many as he can with him on the way out! <3  Tra la!

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 1^st of Limestone, 1071

"This is your last chance, you know," Rinsessilver said.  Though her voice was even, her eyes were full of menace.  Quote and Lugnut both stiffed a little at her threatening nature, but they were unperturbed.  The plans, they both agreed, were quite sound. 

"Where is Madam Dodik?" Quote asked.  "I was hoping she would be here to see this."
"Her business is of no concern to you," Rinsessilver snapped.  "I financed this failure of a project, and I'd like to see it running, just once, without failure."

"Oh, that won't be an issue!" Lugnut said, happily.


"As you can see, we created a second reservoir, specifically to house the waterwheels.  They act as a buffer, so to speak; The water inside is drained by the first pump, and when that has reached a low enough level, the waterwheels stop turning and the pumps stop working until the reservoir has been filled again."
"What if the reservoir becomes empty?"
"We just release more water with the flood gate, and quickly close it.  It's completely renewable, and will not flood."

Rinsesilver lifted one foot, the boot sopping wet.  She looked down at it, her mouth tightening into a thin line.  Quote just shrugged.

"We had to run some tests before we finished.  Testing is quite important, very important indeed. 
This will evaporate soon, don't worry.  MOOKIE!  THE SWITCH, PLEASE?"

From inside, they could hear the little whore shout something back.  It didn't matter what, really, that wasn't important.  The grating of gears, however, was, and soon the creaking of wheels and steel as they began to slowly rotate.  It wasn't long before water droplets rained down on Rinsesilver, a pleasing mist pluming out around the bridge.  The Fishery Leader had to smile.

"If it stays working like this, I won't have your knees broken!"

Quote and Lugnut laughed, though it died out as Rinsesilver just turned and walked back inside.

***

OOC:  Looks like I spoke too soon

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Stravitch]

Back to the drawing board!

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 18^th of Limestone, 1071

Istrath - General Jeweler - was out on patrol.  It was during the day, yes, but he was on the edges of their border and though he was still training in the fighting arts, he could run fast and alert the rest of his group to any sort of threat among the fortress population.  What Istrath wasn't prepared for, was the sudden materialization of Goblins all around him. 



He gaped at the green forms that seemed to bloom from the sand itself.  With his adrenaline running, his senses were heightened, and he could see that a black tar was spread along their large, muscular forms, used to hold the thick clumps of red sand to them.  For all purposes, they WERE a part of the desert.  Their weapons, though, were plain, and their iron weapons reflected the light.

Taking a deep breath, Istrath closed his eyes and pulled his fist back.  He swung forward with a mighty swing and slammed it into the Goblin's chest.  He felt the impact all the way up to his elbow and was thankful that Hikan had taught him to throw a punch.  When he opened his eyes, and craned his head back however, he felt his heart drop.  He turned to run, but his feet were quickly tangled in his long, jewel encrusted cape and he stumbled a step to the side.  The pain came quickly after.



He fell to the sands, gasping from the pain.  It melted away though, as his blood leaked out.  The sun seemed unnaturally bright, blinding in it's brilliance, and he stared up without thought.  The sun was blocked out by large silhouettes, and though he could hear them speaking, the words came to him through a fog.  He was unable to understand them.  These thoughts were ended abruptly, with the heel of a boot. 

[Heavy Flak]

Szondi's Journal, 3^rd of Sandstone, 1071

Goblins are coming in droves.  Hate being proved right, but Maudlin doesn't listen.  No one does, not to voice of reason.  Tell them the flood has come they stay where they are, act surprised when they and their homes are destroyed by millions of gallons of water. 

Goblin snatchers try to steal our children.  Military chases them, too fat and lazy to actually catch them.  Get away, unpunished, unrepentant, to laugh to their masters.  Goblin thieves have arrived with caravan.  Fat merchants unaware their goods are stolen, by greenskins, by fishery workers with stolen money, by Aryn. 

A child died in the sands today.  Went to pick up a fallen bolt, to help the fortress.  Goblin Thief murdered him for his shoes.  Left him bleeding in the sands, alone.  Istrath went the same way.  Without help, without mercy.  Just another stain in sands.  His blood feeds beetles and evil... worthless, completely worthless.

This fortress needs an iron hand to take it back.  These scum deserve what they get.  The goblins, the rulers.  None should be safe from the retribution of their actions.

[Kuli]

Aww, not Istrath!

Glad I checked this thread for the first time in months since there were a bunch of updates.  This is still the best community fort, Heavy Flak.

[Heavy Flak]

Aww, not Istrath!

Glad I checked this thread for the first time in months since there were a bunch of updates.  This is still the best community fort, Heavy Flak.

I tried to get the military to him, but they didn't make it in time.  I didn't want Istrath to die... but I'm letting nature take it's course, as it were.

Also, I'm really thankful for the praise, contribution, and commitment of my readers, new and old.  You guys are great, and keep me going <3

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 19^th of Timber, 1071

Tanner Stablances plodded down the long, thin hallway, his face drawn.  Well, wasn't this just a fine mess?  He had been partying with all the children in the mess hall, his obsolete job leaving him with ample free time.  All of a sudden, he was yanked out of the hall, and a very anger Archin shoved a pick in his hand, telling him he was needed - immediately - to do a job.

It didn't even occur to him until he was down there that he wasn't a miner.  Most likely they had all been put on masonry duty in the quarry and they needed a dwarf - any dwarf - who could just swing a pick for a little while.  He supposed that was alright, he could use the money to buy a better meal, maybe even one of Dojango's exemplary cat roasts.  That would be nice.  Very nice.

He was sweating already as he trudged up the ramps, and he mopped at his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.  Was it always this hot underground?  Maybe so deep at the quarry, that was possible.  The fortress itself was always nice and cool, a constant breeze sucked underground, turning the forbidding desert into an underground utopia.  At least in temperature.  But here, it felt as hot as the sun, damn it all.

He admired the beautiful carvings on the wall, and the not so beautiful carvings - the ones from Erith the Pornographer.  Though, those were nice in their own way... perhaps he'd come down here again in the future.  It wasn't all that bad, really, outside of the heat.  He saw the wall he needed to bang into a ramp, right before him -



It only took three swings, however, before he saw trickles of red running out of the wall.  The tip of his pick was smoking, and he watched, confused, as the bronze melted and dripped onto the floor.

"Oh.  Oh no..."

The stone crumbled away, and a wall of magma bubbled and oozed down at him.  Stablances turned on his heel, and screaming, he ran back down the hallway, feeling the heat on his back.  He understood now why Archin had given him this task.  He preferred unemployment so much more.

[Heavy Flak]

So I lied to you all, dear readers.

I've been playing DF2010, because I just can't help myself, and I've been talking to Xofrevilis about it.  No, wait, don't lynch me, I still plan the next fortress to be a complete and total disaster of fire and death!  I've just been doing adventure mode!

But that leads me to a question.  I'm scared to ask in other parts of the forum since everyone is being all weird these days and there are a ton of threads, and maybe one of you can answer this spoiler-ish question for me.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I've generated a world with like, 200 titans, and 200 demons, and a bunch of civilizations.  None of the forgotten beasts died, and many of the weird demons like At, the gaunt Lllama Demon with poison spit, with his ribs outside his body, are now leaders of civilizations. 

But with that in mind, if you start a fort, do you only get ONE of those weird forgotten beasts?  Do you even get wandering megabeasts anymore?  Or do they all slowly, and randomly, come towards your fort so you get more than one at a time?

[Thief^]

Oh, you definitely get to fight them.

If by fight you mean "get everyone brutally murdered by them".

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 22^nd of Timber, 1071

"Boss," Hikan asked.  He was surprised by just how gentle his voice was, despite the anger that had been roiling inside him for weeks.  "Boss, hey, hey!"  He reached a hand out, and gave Aryn a loud, but gentle, slap on the cheek.

Aryn had been leaning over his desk, with his head in his hands.  His beard, blond and patchy from the start, looked as if it was shedding.  Great chunks had fallen out, and with his thinning combed over hair, he looked as if he had mange.  At the slap, he snorted, and jerked backwards, his eyes wide as he stared unseeing at Hikan.  Slowly the pupils focused, and he scowled.  "What do you want, Guardsman."

Hikan's mouth formed a fine, tight line.  He did his best to keep his anger in check.  Slowly he reached inside his trench coat and pulled free his flask, taking a long pull of water.  When he had composed himself, he continued on, "You're getting out of hand, Aryn.  You haven't done anything but drink and sulk for months... we..." he paused, "I need some guidance here, man.  Some guidance.  The Duke is running roughshod and Archin is having her hands full just fixing anything he breaks.  Since his wife and kid killed themselves in the lake he's just gotten worse."
"What of my project," Aryn rasped.
"I don't know!  Quote and Roaroak won't talk to me about it, they said something... Genius can not be rushed.  Well, Quote didn't say it.  He tried but looked embarrassed, but that ginger freak Roaroak said it and almost got himself a one-way flight into the quarry for having a smug face."
"Come and get me when the domes are done."

"Boss... come on, please.  You're better than this."
"Better than this," Aryn scoffed, "I have a town full of idiots.  I have thieves taking advantage of corrupt nobles, murdered blowing up buildings, terrorists sewing fear among the population.  I'm untrusted by most, disliked by all but you, and for the simple - the SIMPLE! - attempt to help spare our lives from the very things these Dwarves are bringing upon themselves.  Look at what their free will has gotten them?  Just LOOK AT IT!" he shrieked.  He grasped for his exquisitely carved mug, and in three swallows, finished the warm beer that was inside of it. 

"Imagine, if you will, that you knew what was wrong, what was causing a war.  You knew how to fix it.  You could STOP things, if only those in charge would listen to you.  Instead, they don't, and thousands die... whole towns are destroyed.  If only someone had listened to your wisdom, it could have been prevented, but racial prejudice and stupid pride allowed the slaughter to continue.  Can you imagine that, Hikan?"

Hikan stared mutely at his leader, who pressed on, unconcerned with his answer.  "What's even worse than that, is taking Dwarves who wanted to get away from leaders who felt that way, from societies that refused to change.  And though a harsh-hand was taken to keep them in line, things continued to flourish... until the ignorant took control.  The impure, those who could not see the light of peace and safety.  I'm beset on all sides by Dwarves who are given the choice to do something good with their lives, but inside they follow the status quo and continue on blithely ignoring the disaster falling around them.  They do this because they are told to, by Merkil.  By Archin.  By the Duke.  By Mookie and her pet goon Rinsesilver.  By that terrorist Telamon.  By Kuli, and by Rice, and by Likot and her corpses.  They listen to everyone but me, the only one who is actively trying to make their lives better.... Hikan, a man may choose.  A slave, obeys."

Before Hikan could answer, the door was thrown open.  A pale faced Rice burst in, followed behind by Valania.  Though her face was hidden, her gait betrayed her anger.

"We almost had a disaster, Aryn," Rice started.  "There was a magma breach, when we were flooding down to one of the pods for the blacksmiths.  We almost flooded the entire level of workshops, if we hadn't managed to throw up some hasty walls and block it.  As it is... we're losing magma pressure."
"He lies, sir," Valania said in her hollow voice, "we had a disaster.  Many, many of my masterworks have been melted clean off of the stone.  So many!  SO many fantastic pictures of Rice, assuming command..." her voice trailed off with a sigh, leaving Rice staring at her in horrified embarrassment. 

"Do you see, Hikan?  We have those who can not follow simple orders, and we have abject pride.  Worthlessness, surrounding me... everyone get out.  OUT!  I don't care about any of these simple little problems.  Tell me when the domes are complete.  Until we have the safety of seclusion, our lives are forfeit by the inadequacy of others."

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 1^st of Moonstone, 1071

Jools and Luke slowly made their way into the barracks.  Jools's arm was still in a sling, though Dojango had tested it and found the bone had knit back together and he was only suffering from atrophy.  Luke wore a knee brace, and had learned he would need it for the rest of his life, his gait most likely kept off by the broken knee, but neither complained.  They were out of bed for the first time in years.  And though they were tired, weak, emaciated, and thirsty for booze, they were both happy, chatting amiable with one another.

Neither expected the standing ovation they received upon entering the barracks.  All of the squads were lined up, including Sgt. Pepper and Likot who hovered near the back.  Crispen ran forward, embracing her husband in a back-cracking hug, nearly weeping at the sight of seeing him out of bed.  Jools had to fight off a sobbing Wilber who was doing his best to hug him.

Major Merkil took a few steps forward, and cleared his throat.  "I'm glad to see you're both finally healed.  We all are.  As our ranks swell, as we continue to train, we grow ever more unstoppable as a protector.  You have until tomorrow to be on rest, after that?  It's back to training.  I'm sure you're both quite rusty."