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7th of Granite, 551 News has come of Gnoman's project, the breaching of the magma pits, finally reaching its conclusion. My fellow miner, Maugrim, brings news of the king's metal, adamantine, spotted through the rolling waves of molten rock.  Why this information has been fed to me is anyone's guess. I'm no different to the other dregs of society that had been cast out towards this place. I've been a miner as long as I can remember and a loyal worker within the Mountainhomes in the time before that. We've always had a sort of camaraderie, us miners, a kind of etiquette and set of customs. It can get rather boring down in the mines, blasphemous as it may be to say that while surrounded by unhewn rock, and we sometimes get up to mischief. One day I found myself beside a new face in the mineshaft, one I hadn't seen near a pick before. I invited him to some roughhousing to pass the time. He... responded poorly. To my surprise, that stranger wasn't a miner, but a shearer hauling the pick to a stockpile somewhere. How was I to know that he had no idea about the ways of the mine? Anyway, one thing led to another and I found myself on the end of a chain. A clerical error turned assault of a miner into assault of a minor and here we are, in the frozen wastes of the world, where even mountains disappear under great sheets of snow. We dwarves have never been the kindest to our prisoners, but this seems a touch excessive to me. 14th of Granite Evidently I am to become the overlord of this hellish place. Lucky me. I suppose it will be useful if I make copies of my journal into... whatever this is. Maybe whoever follows after me can glean some knowledge from what I write here. Perhaps instead they'll derive some entertainment from whatever mad ramblings this place might coax out of me. Madness, it seems, hasn't deterred the elves from making the trip here, visiting to confirm stories of a 'brave glacial outpost', no doubt. Maybe these silly creatures of the forest will have something worthwhile to trade.  Reserves full of fruit and drink will prove useful in this unending winter. With coin to spare, I thought it a good idea to buy an instrument for our encampment. We have a number of performers so we may as well supply them with something with which to perform.  Elsewhere, a piglet has grown into a boar. A breeding pair of pigs may well prove useful as a source of meat and leather. With farming as yet a far-fetched fantasy, we should consolidate what food sources we have at our disposal.  9th of Slate Zore has welcomed a child into the world, a baby girl named theshim. The child shows a keen mind, though I question if she will survive long enough to put it to use.  16th of Slate The fog that periodically passes over the outpost concerns me somewhat. We still have no idea what this mysterious fog does. Does it instill a sense of fear and dread in those it touches, like that legendary black fog I learnt about as a child? Does it burn the flesh? Does it do no more than cause a mild fever? The question over the potency of the fog is one I can't let lie. A mule purchased from the elves is a fine test subject. The animal will be placed where the fog is known to drift. The only thing we can do from here is wait.  While the wind blows, footfalls crunch upon the snow. Lost souls trudge towards our outpost. wargames, our militia commander, records their names and stories. McGibby, a stoneworker.  Potato Jones, a bowyer. With wood reserves almost completely absent and bones in short supply, she'll be drafted into the military to make herself useful.  Shinarato, a carpenter and a hugely impressive swordsdwarf. It should go without saying that he'll become a military man.  TQ, a peasant of little real talent. I'll have to find a hole for him to plug somewhere.  Samuel Vimes, a stonecrafter and a macedwarf. While an extra crafter is helpful, I'm more interested in his ability to defend us. If the elves have caught wind of this place, then other, more sinister entities can't be far behind.  Starblade, a glassmaker. Without sand, he's mostly useless. Another body for the military pile.  MGargantua, a spinner.  Kenning, a mason, here to ease the burden on our overworked stoneworkers.  Black Robe, a metalcrafter sure to be pleased with how the smelting facilities are growing.  Ajaxify, a doctor of some sort.  PurpleXVI, a  Araganzar, a potter and crafter. His skills with the cloth might prove useful if we manage to start a farm in the caverns.  Tinasth Ginbeard, a fisherdwarf. With the waterways now available to us, perhaps he can be of some use.  Roflex, a dwarf of few talents. I suppose she can be made into a spare engineer with some effort.  Their arrival takes our number to 33. We scarcely have the facilities to cater for half that number. Work on bedrooms and dining areas needs to be accelerated promptly. 27th of Slate TQ's scream of fear rings out from the lowest levels of the mineshafts, where the rock and magma meet. The terrified dwarf, there only to fetch a pick with which to learn the ways of the earth, had discovered a breach in the caverns. Emerging from the gaps under the magma smelter and forges were scuttling beasts with segmented limbs. Magma crabs.   Our military, at the moment limited to a militia commander, a rookie with an axe and an unarmed recruit, rush down to deal with the threat. The first of the four goes down without issue, as does the second, wargames' skill and speed enough to overcome the crabs. Charging forth to deal with the incursion are Baiwyd and Viola the Mad. The former does well, splitting a crab in two, but the beasts fight with fire and the fury of the mountain itself. Baiwyd is nearly bisected by a blast of basalt, living long enough to see Viola the Mad crush the one of the crabs underfoot before bursting into flames. Viola showed a true dwarf's spirit in death, spitting in the face of that blasted crabs.  Baiwyd took those efforts to heart, fighting on until all of the crabs were dead, by her axe no less.  We could only find Viola's corpse once the whole ordeal was over. May they both rest easy knowing the threat has been dealt with. 25th of Felsite Baiwyd and Viola's sacrifice paved the way for the completion of the magma centre, where Black Robe works diligently to supply the outpost with weaponry to protect itself.  Things settle into a period of peace when an odd announcement meets my ears.   Oh, nothing more than an elven priest or some such. Better her than a bunch of crabs, I suppose. Spring, so emblematic of life elsewhere, has given us our first taste of death. It will soon be summer. I can only hope that the gods will be merciful and offer us an easy time of things. GruntMountain fucked around with this message at 21:55 on Jul 22, 2020 |
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Jul 22, 2020 15:55
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24th of Hematite Work has begun on the roof over the entrance, the leafy tip to the great carrot that is our fortress beneath the ice. A human caravan is the first to pass through what will soon be massive gates, the tall ones bringing a shipment of wood, metal and drink in exchange for a vast collection of stone-hewn trinkets.  Following shortly after those humans are yet more migrants. Perhaps migrants is the wrong word them. I myself am a prisoner, sent here to die in the cold. It's not inconceivable that many of these people are suffering the same fate as I am, cast aside by an uncaring king. Whatever the case, they need to be sorted and equipped. We can't afford to have any idle hands. Valtonen, a trapper and a doctor.  Necrotic, a dwarf who has seen his fair share of tavern brawls.  Guper and ChocolatePancake, child daughters of Valtonen. Their presence seems to disprove my theory.   World War Mammories, a master of both love and war.  GrabbinPeels, a planter who will doubtless love this place.  Danaru, an axe murderer  Cugel, a gemcutter. We have plenty of gems so she should never find herself being idle.  Biosterous, an animal dissector with an appreciation for music.  There are only so many spaces available in which beds can be placed and only so much wood from which beds can be made. For now, many of our fresh meat will have to sleep on smoothed floors.  16th of Galena Baiwyd and Viola the Mad have been put to rest. With Baiwyd's corpse having been lost to the magma, a different sort of memorial needed to be made. Viola shall receive one too in time, a tombstone to stand beside her coffin.  The fog has finally reached our test animal. When it returned, the donkey show no signs of pain, even when prodded with a pick. The fog instills some sort of numbness within those it touches though it doesn't seem to do much more. Other symptoms may only begin to manifest as time passes. I will have to monitor this creature closely.  
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Jul 25, 2020 18:21
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25th of Limestone To ensure that none of our animals starve, rudimentary pastures have been made deep in the caverns. Nearby to our entry-point into the depths is a pack of amphibian men armed with wooden spears and wearing sneering expressions. I don't like the threat their presence implies. They will have to be eliminated sooner or later.  26th of Limestone The amphibians are dead but so is necrotic, drowned while wrestling one of the smooth-skinned spearmen. His skeleton lies at the bottom of the great subterranean lake, never to be retrieved. Whatever family he had will have to be notified of his death. Letting them hang on to the hope of him merely being 'missing' would be cruel.  7th of Sandstone  Work in the forges has stopped. Our only metalworker has been touched some sort of divine spark forcing him to work on a trinket of some sort rather than work on arming the military with suitable weapons. A single silver bar is all he needs to complete his task. Perhaps he will make something useful, like a goblet or a vial.   I suppose an earring will do. 8th of Sandstone Our numbers increase day by day, scarcely giving us time to accommodate those who came in the waves before. The latest group of travelers is one of mixed usefulness. Llama, a leatherworker with an array of medical skills  Cythereal, a miner-to-be  Kobold, a dwarf  Ott, a willing body for the military to use  Osroct, of a similar description  izo, an impressive metalsmith and someone to take the burden off of Black Robe.  Mathwyn, whose primary skill is utterly useless in a place as bleak as this.  Oggy, someone for whom potential is their most positive trait  Crystalgate, another mouth to feed.  Gnoman, the manager, will assign them jobs in due time. It isn't something I care to look at myself. Our brother dwarves have just dropped off some wood and metal at the depot. Having not yet struck any significant veins of ore, we are at the mercy of traders for our metal supplies. This isn't a situation I have any comfort being in. We will have to find ores very quickly. 15th of Timber  The one military squad we have at our disposal rushed out to the meet the giant. It was mere paces away from our gate when it clashed with Danaru. One mighty blow caused the dwarf's lower body to pop like a grape and spread blood and guts over the snow like red wine. A storm of steel and fury forced the huge monster back, with the swordsdwarf MGargantua landing the decisive blow with a steel short sword to the giant's head, blade piercing from one ear to the other. Though the crisis was averted, we have lost yet another dwarf. Four of our number have died in as many months. This is a worrying trend and gives me shivers when I give it thought. A giant at our gates must mean that the stories of our wealth are spreading across the land. The gate above our heads need to be completed. Worse horrors than giants will follow after the beast we have just slain.
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Aug 3, 2020 20:38
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It seems I forgot to upload the screenshot. Humblest apologies. ''
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Aug 4, 2020 12:15
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26th of Opal The roof nears completion. With plentiful stone and a number of mason's shops, there should be more than enough blocks with which to construct the roof over our heads. With that complete, we will no longer have to live in fear of the fog.  Underground, the search for metal goes on. While we've found great clusters of cat's eye and green zircon, ore eludes us for the moment. In the main body of the fortress, strange forces conspire to inspire. Llama retreats from the busy temple, where song and dance rumble loudly against the walls, and disappears into the newly-constructed leather-working area.   Whatever Llama manages to make will be the next overseer's business. I've had to deal with enough frustration and death for one lifetime. I have no interest in continuing to oversee this place. If I can be allowed to merely get on with my job in the mines, I'll be happy. Whichever unfortunate soul has to command this place next should have more than enough pointers to see us through to another spring.
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Aug 13, 2020 14:06
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