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[Lord Dullard]

7 Moonstone, 1050
Far off, the General could see the feeble light of an ill-fueled lantern flickering in a stairwell. Whether that stairwell was a way up to freedom or deeper into the prison, he did not know. Occasionally he thought he could hear footsteps somewhere off in the darkness, but he wasn't sure.. but he was sure he'd heard several faint screams of pain through the grates in his cell. It seemed there was another small cell next to his own, but his nostrils told him that its sole occupant was in a rather advanced state of decomposition.

Just two weeks ago, this had been his city.. not his technically, of course, but as the highest ranking general of the Royal Guard, he had used his position to effectively run the kingdom in the wake of the aging King's mental and physical decline. The King's tenure upon the mortal coil had ended far more prematurely than the royal physicians had predicted, however, and in the resulting turmoil the General's carefully laid-out plans were blown away like so much chaff in the wind. A full-scale revolt had broken out almost as soon as the King had been announced dead - a revolt by the younger of the King's two sons. Despite strong resistance from the Guard and the King's more steadfast allies, the rebels won out in the end with the support of the majority of the kingdom's power-hungry lesser nobility. The victorious Prince had his elder brother promptly executed and his 'traitorous' supporters immediately killed or thrown into prison.

Which was, of course, exactly how the General had ended up here. He'd spent the first couple hellish days wondering whether he'd be starved, die of thirst, or be executed. The first two were ruled out when he nearly tripped over a moldy tray of biscuits and a dank mug of water on his cell floor; he wasn't sure when they'd been slid through the bars because it was too pitch-dark to see movement. After a week, he began to pray to Armok that the Hammerer would come for him; death would be far preferable to a life spent in this dismal place. The General did not know it, but his fate - and the fate of many others - was only just beginning.

He nearly jumped out of his beard when he heard a metallic clank, and a slow grinding sound. His cell.. it must have been opened!

"Follow."

The voice was low and indistinguishable, but a moment later a lantern flared into life, revealing a short, hunched figure. There wasn't much to lose, so the General got up, stretched his aching limbs, and did as he was told. The narrow, twisting passageways down here were far too complex for him to have any hope of remembering.. or escaping.. without aid. He did his best not to pay attention to some of the things he saw through slatted cell doors and openings.

Eventually he came blinking into a well-lit marble chamber; his guide was gone before he could blink, and an armed guard quickly took his place. After placing chains on his wrists, the guard motioned solemnly for the General to continue after him. Soon he began to recognize his surroundings; how could he not, when he had spent so many years here? This was the royal palace, although he had never known an entrance to the dungeon existed in this sector.

Well, perhaps they'd just give him a firing squad. No reason to bring him up out of that dank pit he'd been in if it wasn't for an execution, really; after all, what could possibly have been worse than a life down there?

He frowned. They weren't heading for the military sector, where the execution field was located, though. They were heading for...

..the throne room.

The Prince - King, now, he supposed - sat on the cumbersome golden construction, tugging idly on his braided blond beard and sipping out of a platinum goblet. The General had never been very fond of the dwarf, though he had to give him credit for being a brilliant tactician.. if he hadn't been one, the revolt could never have been successful.

"General.. you've been enjoying your accommodations, I presume?"

The General merely grimaced. The chains prevented him from folding his arms over his chest.. or strangling the wretch.. but his expression was no doubt sufficient to display his contempt.

"Just kill me and get this foolery over with. Are the duties of kingship so dull that you're reduced to mocking the dispossessed just to pass the time?"

The King's expression grew fey for an instant, but it faded, and he merely smirked. "No, General, I have plans for you, actually. It's hard to simply kill off a war hero, even if he is a traitor. Doesn't sit well with the general populace, you see. So I've decided to show my subjects that their new King is both merciful and wise."

The General merely quirked a brow. Wherever this was heading, he somehow doubted it was good.

"You are familiar with The Dreadful Desert, I think?" It was a hypothetical question - everyone in the kingdom knew exactly where the Desert was, and avoided it like the plague. The General had once been forced to cross part of it, and the images of the place still haunted his memories. "Thus far, all of our attempts to set up any sort of base of operations in the area have failed. It takes an experienced dwarf to handle such a difficult task.. I think you're just the fellow for the job."

The General thought, for an instant, that his stomach may have settled somewhere near his bowels and shriveled up. Trying to 'settle' in The Dreadful Desert was even less preferable than a slow and horrible end in the guts of the city's prison.

"And to show you that I'm not a stingy ruler, you'll have your pick of companions.. out of the city's dungeon inmates, of course. No doubt some of them will prefer the opportunity."

The General could feel his teeth grinding together in rage and despair. The Prince-cum-King smiled smugly, and waved a hand to one of many steel-clad guards in the room.

"Escort him back to the dungeon so he can prepare his expedition. Oh, and one last thing.. your position as General is being stripped, along with your awards and other honorary titles. Don't worry, though.. perhaps if you survive, a minor civilian title will be forthcoming. That is all."

As the Ex-General turned and began to follow the armored dwarf ahead of him, he cursed, not for the first time, the treacherous tyrant behind him.. and swore that, one day, he would have his revenge.

Edited for clarity.

[ March 12, 2008: Message edited by: Lord Dullard ]

[Lord Dullard]

OOC:

Yup, that's right, another community fortress.. because, while the cold, icy poles of Dwarf Fortress seem to be getting more than their fair share of attention, the hot, barren, and equally nasty deserts have been sorely neglected by the community.. erm.. community.

This is my first try at storytelling, or community fortresses in general, for that matter. With that in mind, I only ask that my fellow fortress-goers be slightly more merciful than our incumbent King.

(The Ex-General will receive a proper name when the game starts - obviously the King's will be generated by the engine.)

Wanted: 6 hardy (or at least willing) dwarves! 3 will be common criminals, 3 will be ex-nobility/military personnel 'traitors'. Feel free to include a short background. My only requirements are 1 miner and 1 mason. I'll try to get male/female preference as close as possible, but I can't make any promises, so indicate whether or not you definitely want one gender or the other and I'll do my best.

[Dwarfaholic]

"Icky" the cook/brewer.
Most important character in the group, obviously.
Male.

[Kagus]

Annie Condra.  

Proficient Wrestler
Competent Ambusher
Swimmer

Female.

[Dwarfaholic]

Btw, can the rest of us write our own stuff, or...?

[Lord Dullard]

I don't mind if characters have their own 'journal entries' - in fact, I welcome it, as long as they're mostly kept in the past tense/reflective so they don't edge into the realm of Overarching Story Control. If you want me to do something specifically with your character, you can always PM me and I'll try to arrange it.

On that note, I'm heading to bed for the night.. the fortress will be started up sometime tomorrow, assuming we have our 6 dwarves.

[Captain Mayday]

I'll grab one. I love these stories.
Name: Pix
Profession: Miner, Wrestler.
Gender: Male.

Background: Pix is probably one of the few non-political prisoners serving a life sentence. Previously a member of a group of miners, he was also a part of 'underground' fighting contests in the Mountainhomes.
He was recruited out of this life by some bandits promising easy money.

He was responsible, along with those other criminals, for digging into and emptying the royal treasury.
But things went horribly wrong, and they were captured. He's met the General before, albeit in different circumstances.
With his peers now executed, and the money returned, he ekes out day after miserable day in the pits of the prison.

[ March 11, 2008: Message edited by: Captain Mayday ]

[Xotes]

Name: Silverus.
Profession: Miner. Wrestler.
Gender: Male.

Backstory: Silverus was a die-hard supporter of the former king, and put his mining skills to good use while fighting off the prince's forces. He never bloodied his pick directly, instead preferring to undermine the enemy troops.

Tossed in jail for his support, Silverus nonetheless managed to smuggle a miniature, though still functional, pick, and has been using it to slowly hack away at his cell walls. He has never met the general, but IS quite aware of who he is.

[ March 11, 2008: Message edited by: Xotes ]

[Kaelem Gaen]

Name: Lorgrem (Male) or Zorne (Female)
Job: Mason/Architect
Background:  He/She was one of the prior nobility before the switch over, his/her support ran not with the old king, but with the other prince (Possibly with a crush if female, or looked up to him if male.)
He/She took on anything to get from the dungeons in hopes of regaining his/her formal glory.

[ March 11, 2008: Message edited by: Kaelem Gaen ]

[Akroma]

Akroma, a speardwarf

make him your captain of the guard

[Lord Dullard]

More to come..

[ March 11, 2008: Message edited by: Lord Dullard ]

[Lord Dullard]

After resolving some minor technical difficulties, we are now back to our regularly scheduled program!

http://mkv25.net/dfma/map-2283-lurorkalur

[Lord Dullard]

4 Obsidian, 1050
The small caravan made its way over the crest of the hill, and were greeted with the site of a bountiful, grassy meadow unfolding beneath them.

If only this was our destination, Moltenglazed thought with a grimace. Of course, he would have halted the expedition here and ordered construction to begin in this far, far preferable location.. if not for the five armed guards at his back and the chains connecting him to the others.

Of all those who had been willing to join the entourage, there were only six Moltenglazed thought fit to bring along. Most of those who weren't too weak or sickly to stand a chance in the environs of The Dreadful Desert would, in his estimation, probably have slit his throat at the first available opportunity.

But at least a scant few prisoners had seemed suitable, if not entirely trustworthy. Icky, a former cook arrested for malcontent, was a little rough around the edges - but his usefulness would almost certainly make up for that. Then there was Annie Condra, an adventurous youth who had somehow gotten on the wrong side of one of the newly-empowered nobility; Pix and Silverus, two miners who had seen their fair share of tavern-fights and professed to winning most of them; Lorgrem, a rather well-known supporter of King Iddoren's late brother (unfortunately for him); and lastly Akroma, a career Speardwarf that Moltenglazed vaguely recalled meeting once or twice during his campaign years.

Thus far it had been a rather easy journey, but they were almost to the edge of the desert.

"Halt, all of you," The squadron leader snarled, waiting until the procession had come to a stop before proceeding. "Men, blindfold the prisoners. We wouldn't want them to succumb to the temptation of trying to abandon their new settlement."

20 Obsidian, 1050
For the next several days, the group marched on in this manner. Moltenglazed tried to gauge the direction they were traveling, but it became impossible when the guards began to take sudden twists and turns, undoubtedly to prevent him from doing so. Soon the springy grass beneath his feet turned to loose, rocky gravel, and the sun began to beat down mercilessly. Every so often he heard the calls of strange creatures in the distance, and he thought he could catch a faint whiff of sulfur rising from the acrid soil.

1 Granite, 1051
It had been nearly a week of this when the procession was slowed once again.

"Halt, you bunch of worthless scum." A pause, during which several wooden clunks could be heard... probably the guards were making sure the wagon was unusable. "Remove their chains and blindfolds. If any of you try to follow us, we'll cut your legs off and leave you for the first thing that decides you look like a meal."

Moltenglazed's blindfold was pulled off, and he got his first look at the Dreadful Desert in nearly twenty years.. an endless stretch of barren, haunting wasteland. He couldn't see any creatures in the surrounding area, but he knew that would change soon enough. A few low moans and gasps sounded from the rest of the party, but the Ex-General merely scowled as the guards became tiny dots on the heat-distorted horizon.

If they were to survive, the work had to start now.

"All of you, listen up," Moltenglazed began. The others slowly turned towards him as if waking from a dream. He would remember their expressions on that day for the rest of his life - Lorgrem, his face a mask of disbelief; Icky, cursing and snarling under his breath; Pix and Silverus, both leaning against the dismantled wagon, their faces graven white; Akroma, standing straight-backed and defiant; and Annie, looking fearful but also slightly.. excited.

"We don't have much time before nightfall, and we don't want to be caught out here without any defenses."

Silverus pushed away from the wagon and cleared his throat. "Pix and I can help with that.. but we need picks."

A quick check of their supplies revealed that they'd been sent with an anvil and some bars of copper and iron, and some rough granite to build with.. but, of course, with no smith, all of that was useless.

..then again, how hard could it possibly be?

"Right," Moltenglazed grumbled, glancing around again at the desolate landscape and pointing off to the south, where a thin trickle of blue was just barely visible. "I'm not certain what river that is, but we'll need it. Akroma, help me set up some temporary shops. At the very least, we can put together some makeshift tools.. the rest of you, start unloading whatever's in the wagon. We'll need it soon enough."

Despite the hopelessness of the situation, Annie nodded, and with a mischievous grin, kicked at the dry gravel underfoot and muttered that most ancient of Dwarven mottos: "...strike the earth."

[ March 12, 2008: Message edited by: Lord Dullard ]

[Kaelem Gaen]

Love the narrative so far.   I can't wait to read more.

[Lord Dullard]

The Journal of Ézum Moltenglazed
22 Granite, 1051
The past three weeks have been harsh and intensive, but I think we're beginning to see the first small signs of real progress. We discovered two very skinny, undernourished dogs and a mangy-looking cat had been sent along with us in a wooden cage that fell apart almost as soon as it was unpacked; the guards must have been keeping them fed on the journey. We have little enough food as it is, but I ordered that the dogs be given some of the stringy meat from our supplies. If they live, they might one day help to protect us. The cat seems to be doing well enough on its own; there are plenty of blood gnats and other vermin here in the wastes for it to prey upon. I suppose I can tolerate its feline presence for now, since it's managed to dispose of the majority of the sand-going insects that have tried to infiltrate our food and liquor stores.

Pix and Silverus have been hard at work digging out a small farming and food storage complex; even though the soil on the surface here is dry and mostly lifeless, a few feet underground it becomes somewhat suitable for the growth of hardier plants.. thankfully our supplies contain some plump helmet spawn, and I've rarely heard of a place in which those noble plants cannot take root.

Lorgrem has proved to be a tremendous help in this endeavor, since he has some experience as a builder. I myself know little about structural design, so I'm thankful he's with us.

Yesterday, however, he startled me when he pulled me aside and gave me a rather disturbing piece of news.

"Ézum.. I've been meaning to tell you something, but I don't think you'll like to hear it," He started.

"Well, might as well get it over with," Was my reply. It had been a long day already; for my own part I've taken up the axe and been busy chopping down some of the larger, more weather-hardened cacti. They're not quite the same as good solid timber, but they'll do to make some beds. Unfortunately, they do have very large, very sharp thorns.. which accounts for why it has taken me so long to start up this journal. My hands have become so pricked and scarred they might as well be pincushions.

"On our way here, I overheard two of the guards talking.." For whatever reason, Lorgrem didn't seem to want to say whatever it was he needed to tell me.

I frowned. "And?"

"Ehm.. right.. well, they said something about sending 'more' after us."

"More? Wait.. you mean, more dwarves!? I assumed they were just sending us out here to fend for ourselves?"

He wiped sweat off of his brow. "I think they intend to turn this into a prison colony.. or at least an exile colony, or something."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. "I see," I muttered. Somehow, I wasn't surprised. Iddoren wanted to weed out those formerly loyal to his father and brother, Armok rest their souls.. what better way to do it than to send them to this 'settlement'? "We'll worry about our own survival for now. If we aren't dead by the end of summer, perhaps then we can think about making room for others."

I watched as Lorgrem nodded, looking slightly relieved I hadn't bitten his head off. I'll have to keep in mind that as a former noble, he probably has a slightly more.. delicate composition than some of the rest of us. "Back to work then."

[ March 12, 2008: Message edited by: Lord Dullard ]