Monday, March 31, 2014

Datanerith Entry 27: Easy Ambush

An ambush? Curse them! To arms, soldiers! To arms!

The goblins attack from the north. As I call my dwarves to the safety of the Living Quarter and have my army meet in the barracks - as is standard procedure when there's an attack - another group of goblin hammermen and pikemen come from the west. They immediately attack and kill Melbzuth Tungatin, a woodburner who was... um... honestly I have no idea what Melbzuth was doing so far from home. I do know that she was carrying her baby, though, which is cool. Datanerith hasn't had a dead baby yet. Gotta start somewhere I guess.

"We're here to kill babies and fuck bitches, and we're all out of bitches!"

My military gathers in the barracks as the goblins make their marches to the Underpass. Once they're in the walls, they immediately butcher a kitten that crosses their paths. I think I'm supposed to find this barbaric. I would, I guess, if I hadn't just killed half a dozen cats and kittens for food and leather, myself. But then they killed my Crocodile! He put up far less of a fight than I had expected. He died without hurting a single goddamn goblin.

I send my militia out to attack. It's a massacre. Bolts flying, hammers striking down. The goblins never stood a chance. It was brutal and wonderful. I didn't lose a single dwarf. One guy had his hand broken, that's pretty much it. That's fine. I think Rakust was starting to get tired of treating all the dumbass dorfs who kept falling down the channeled holes they'd dug. Finally, a real war wound!

Two squads of soldiers is a little tougher than a fucking kitten, ain't it?

Three of the goblins get caught in my cage traps. I carve out a small, dank section below the jail cells and shove them in. These are the Black Cells. They'll linger there until I find some use for them. And I will find some use. Maybe a gladiator pit. Maybe target practice. Something fun.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Datanerith Entry 26: Renovations

Don't forget to click to make it bigger!

I've put a lot of work into the outside of the fortress. I built some walls leading outward, and a bunch more up against the stone wall where I'd carved away at the slopes. Building a wall there wasn't strictly necessary - carving the slopes is functionally identical - but I like the uniform look. I channeled a moat from the river to the far wall, closing in my fortress. The only way in is over the bridge, which I'd like to attach to a lever to retract during a threat. I may build a walled outpost there.

My crocodile isn't in the moat; I was worried that the river was too big for one crocodile to properly guard. If I had a whole bunch of them, sure. Instead, though, I found another home from him. There are three small lakes that I had used to irrigate my underground farms; an enterprising goblin thief might find his way into my fort through my irrigation shafts. So I dug out a hole over the shafts, combining all three small lakes into a single Crocodile-infested deathtrap.

There it is, the green "C" in the water. Surrounded by blood.

I've figured out how to make soap. I made ash in a wood furnace, which I then made into lye at an ashery. A Soap Maker by the name of Edzul did the rest, combining the lye with some animal fat from the butchery to make into soap. Now my hospital has soap! You have no idea how happy this makes me. I've never, ever made soap before. 

The problem with the Weremongoose, I've decided, was something that's been bugging me for a while: the wells. I've got three wells in Datanerith, all strewn about in random places outside. All but one of the wells, which was located over the blood-infested waters of my Crocodile Pond, were outside the walls. So when the Weremongoose attacked, Fath and Mistem were too far away from civilization to even escape properly. I tore my existing wells down, and got to work on building new ones, inside. These wells are all in one room, close to my dining room. They draw water from a vast underground lake, instead of the dirty and dangerous ponds outside.

Convenient for those weirdo dwarfs who like nonalcoholic beverages with their meals.

Datanerith Entry 25: The Weremongoose

A Weremongoose attacks! I mobilize my militia immediately, but not before it gets to Fath the Farmer, who was busy drawing water from the well. He died for that water pretty quickly. The Weremongoose, Len Thedleguki, tore apart his skull and brain with a single blow, then dove into the river. One stupid ass dwarf, a butcher by trade, runs to the corpse of Fath the Farmer. She's carrying her baby! Why is Mistem the Butcher running towards such a dangerous area, clutching her goddamn baby?

Oh. That's, uh... very sad actually.

So Mistem, in her grief, is ignoring the danger to recover the body of her beloved husband. Maybe she doesn't know he's dead? Maybe she thinks she can save him? Len had other ideas. The Weremongoose arose from the river right behind Mistem and tore into the bereaved butcher with several bites, tearing off Mistem's right food and opening at least three arteries. She's still alive by the time the first of my militia arrive. Sarvosh the Speardwarf charges in bravely, wielding a copper spear, and pulls the Weremongoose's attention from the fallen butcher. Sarvesh has been training with the spear, and it shows. She doesn't do much damage to her powerful foe, but she does buy some time.

Then Solon the Hammerer arrives.

This goes on for a while.

Solon absolutely destroys the Weremongoose, smashing it over and over with his new steel mace. He takes no damage in turn. The Weremongoose, suffering broken limbs and shattered ribs, turns back into a human. The game classifies the human as "Friendly" instead of "Hostile." But, remember Fath and Mistem, I waste no time in having my soldiers kill the fuck out of the "friendly" human woman. Frustratingly, she manages to escape in the confusion.

Mistem dies of her wounds before the dwarves can take her to the hospital.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Datanerith Entry 24: Dwarven Administration and Nobility

We got a bunch of new migrants. I think we've hit some kind of threshold population. Kol Besmarotin, my manager, has been promoted by the dwarves of Datanerith. He is now the mayor, which means, of course, that he's starting to demand nicer stuff.

Here's a nice bed made out of chrysoprase spikes, Kol.

More migrants means more responsibilities. My sheriff has been upgraded to Captain of the Guard. I'm not... quite sure what that means, except that the ex-beekeeper wants a bigger room and better furniture now. It also means that he's the leader of his own squad, the Fort Guards. The Guards of Datanerith are responsible for administering justice, not defending from outside threats. Dwarven Justice comes in two flavors: prison and beatings. My first thought was to keep my Fort Guards unarmed, so that they can just wrestle criminals into submission, but then I'd be afraid of them choking citizens to death. I certainly don't want them wielding anything lethal. I decided to give them all wooden spears. That way they can feel important when they beat people with the fake weapons.

Kind of annoying that they have to share the barracks with the "real" soldiers though.

The mayor has leapt right into his new position, and mandated the construction of crossbows. That's fortunate, since crossbows are one of the chief exports of Datanerith. I have a legendary bowyer pumping them out pretty much nonstop.

The manager (who's also my mayor) isn't validating anything. I go to see why: turns out he was building a section of the wall outside. That's weird, I didn't know he was a mason. As I turn off his masonry, so he can just head back to his office and work, I realize that he's a dwarf of many talents. Hunting, trapping, masonry, potash making, threshing, animal dissecting... he's even good with a mace. Something kinda weird about that, but whatever. I ask him to please return to his work managing orders. I might get a new dwarf to serve as manager, if the mayor thinks he's too high and mighty for that.

This screen is seriously soooooo much easier to use. 

My cook, now legendary, has made 939 prepared meals in his employment at Datanerith. I order him to start making lavish meals. The laborers and soldiers of Datanerith work hard, damnit, and it's about time they feast appropriately! Plus I'm pretty sure that my highfalutin nobles are gonna start bitching that they're not eating the gourmet shit every day.

Datanerith Entry 23: A Sense of Humor

I've made Zasit the Beekeper the new Sheriff. Sherlock Holmes was a beekeeper, so maybe Zasit will turn out to be some sort of super sleuth, too? Just don't die on me, buddy. Your job is apparently, like, super dangerous.

More elves have come! I have a lot more to trade this time, like dyed cloth, dresses, and stone scepters encrusted with semiprecious gems. I don't actually have to steal from them now! I mean... I'm still gonna. I just don't have to.


There wasn't much to take, to be honest, aside from a shitload of cloth. There were some animals, I guess. I've got a bunch of caged monkeys, now, which I honestly can't see much non-food use for. I'm sure I'll think of something. I did get a caged crocodile, though, which is fucking awesome. That bad boy is going right in the moat. As soon as I build a moat. I bet ol' Endok is just spinning in his grave.

Speaking of Endok!

In addition to all the new engravings, I've started having a bunch of statues built, to put up in my Hall of the Honored Dead. The statues, like the engravings, are entirely random. Whatever Udib Uzolegul, my sculptor, feels like making. On of my more detailed statues, for example, is of an elf killing a necromancer. Another statue depicts two cockroaches because my weird fucking dwarves just love them some cockroaches for some perverted reason. Also in the Hall of the Honored Dead, I have a statue of Endok. What luck! Remember: the subject of the statues are totally random.


Let me explain what we're looking at here, for those who might not get it: this is a statue of Endok, the very first soldier in Datanerith (and by default, the very first militia commander), who died defending the fort. The statue is making fun of how he lost his position of militia commander. A position which he lost by dying. This statue is ten feet away from Endok's grave. Udib, you are one coldhearted dwarf. Funny, but cold.

Friday, March 28, 2014

Datanerith Entry 22: The Carnal Heat

We melted our toys just in time. Vabok has begun a mysterious construction. A bunch of bards and children are probably crying about it too, but as long as they do so while hauling stone for my masons to build the walls outside, I'm fine with that.

Half of the new migrants were made into hunters. I've got a legendary bowyer, Tirist, pumping out high quality weapons on a regular basis, and frankly, I like the idea of having the hillsides of Datanerith swarming with hunters. Two of them in particular, Inod and Kumil, came very well skilled as marksdwarves. The fortress now has eleven rangers, almost a tenth of its total population, patrolling the area. And, of course, providing the fortress with tasty, tasty dingo meat!

The other half of my dwarves I've made into masons and stone engravers. I'm engraving the walls of important rooms, like the Dining Hall, and the Hall of the Honored Dead. This not only increases the value of these particular areas (which is quite important for something as commonly used as the Dining Hall), but it makes passing dwarves happy. They enjoy seeing the wonderful art created by their sculptor friends.

Who wouldn't be thrilled to eat dinner by a carving of two large roaches entitled "The Carnal Heat?" 

Gross images of humping insects aside, I plan on having all the walls of the Living Quarter engraved one day. Until then, though, I've got my masons outside, building the walls of Datanerith. That'll help with the problems from outside of the fortress. It won't help with the problems from inside, though. We still have a vampire on the loose. Lucky for us that Sheriff Goden's on the job!


Thursday, March 27, 2014

Datanerith Entry 21: Dwarven Justice

My Justice System is now up and running. I've got a Sheriff and a jail. All I need now it to find that murderer. Let's look at the case.

Not a whole lot to work with, but I do have a witness. Goden pays a visit to the farmer, Zefon, the dwarf who found Kubuk's body. There's a chance that a conversation with Zefon will lead to some interesting discrepancies; pale skin is a good clue, as are some indicators of an unnaturally long age, like abnormally long lists of relatives, or having more skills than a dwarf ought to. Since vampires don't eat or sleep, any dwarf can be ruled out if he or so has complaints or happy thoughts about beds, dining rooms, meals, etc.

Zefon checks out. Her skin is cinnamon, she was happy with the dining room, and she complained about sleeping without a proper room recently. Instead of smacking her around for ignoring the glorious Living Quarters, Goden asked some questions about Zefon's relatives. Zefon does have a lot of children - including Bomrek, the insane blacksmith - but nothing suspicious or conspicuous.

That's unfortunately it, for now. That was our only lead. The trail has run cold.

The Justice System has plenty on its plate, though. Vabok, a Ranger of Datanerith, has been taken by a fey mood and claimed a craftsdwarfs workshop and started screaming for logs and metal bars. Even after the windfall of the dwarven caravan, I don't have any metal. I do, however, have a bunch of metal toys and instruments. I am no patron of the arts, and I am annoyed by the children of Datanerith, so I order tham all melted down immediately. Hopefully we can get some metal together for Vabok before he gets too upset and needs to be handled by Goden.

Thirty-two meals for our vampire have arrived. Goden's got her work cut out for her.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Datanerith Entry 20: A Deadly Lack of Fluids

Bomrek is completely naked at this point. She'll stay in a room and blather on to nobody in particular, then abruptly break into a run into another chamber to drool and string some random words together. She liked to hang out by the quern in the Agriculture Quarter for some reason. This system seemed to be working pretty well for her until she died of thirst. I guess she was so busy being crazy that she just forgot to... drink.

Well, that's another casket to build. Just when I was starting to think that "Hall of Those Who Died Like a Bitch" was too harsh.

I received a message that Kubuk Onamas, a thresher who I've been using to mill cave wheat into flour, has been missing for a week. That means he's probably dead, which means he may have been murdered. Shit. OK. So I guess it's time for me to set up a Justice System now. I look to my dwarves: there's a carpenter named Goden who's been out of work for a while. She's assertive and doesn't like to compromise. And, thank Armok, is slow to anger. Sheriff Goden, you're on the job.

Well that didn't take long you fucking prima donna.

I'm taken Solon Beridos, the Mace Lord, out of the militia squad he was in, and drafted some sorry bastard in to replace him. Solon is due for a more important part of dwarven politics, I think. I've made him the commander of his own squad, so he can be mobilized by himself at a moment's notice, and have installed him as the Hammerer of Datanerith. The Hammerer is the executioner of the fortress. Usually the Sheriff handles matters of justice, including beatings if need be, but the Hammerer gets involved for serious crimes when beatings or jail time just aren't strong enough of a punishment. If we do have a murderer running around Datanerith, Goden may need the help.

While I was messing around in the Living Quarter, setting up my two new nobles with some offices and private dining rooms, I found Kubuk's dead body. In his bed. Completely drained of blood. So not only has Kubuk's disappearance been officially upgraded into "Unsolved Murder," it's pretty clear that Datanerith has a vampire in its midst. Any one of its 72 dwarves could be secretly be a creature of the night, killing and drinking the blood of the innocent. 

Something tells me this is going to fill up quickly.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Datanerith Entry 19: The Were-Elephant

Bomrek isn't throwing a tantrum. Instead, she's gone crazy. She's running from room to room in the fort, stripping off a piece of clothing as she runs. We've got a sock in the dining room, another sock in the hallway, her dress is in the barracks... if she wasn't gibbering like a mad baboon I'd think she was itching for some kind of action. But, nope, she's drooling and babbling incoherently and aimlessly wandering the halls. No one really seems to mind. She's just another oddity of Datanerith, now.

The merchants of Kastolvutok have left. I'm sure they're confused why Urist never showed up with their stuff. I like to imagine that Mistem just smiled at them and said something like, "He probably just stole it all?" cause they just left without even attempting to trade. See you guys next year! Don't forget that iron! And watch out for the slopes!

I started building some walls outside the fort. After chopping away the slopes, the hills of the mountainside became walls of stone. The walls should help to limit the ways my dwarves can be approached. I want to be able to funnel everything into the Underpass, and this should help. I'm feeling pretty confident about whatever attack comes next!

If Boatmurdered taught me anything, it's that I should be very, very frightened right now.

I immediately ordered all civilians to wait in the Living Quarters while the military - all of them - armed themselves and met up in the barracks. OK, so, maybe not quite "immediately." I mean I paused the game and everything. But I'm not too proud to admit that it took me about twenty minutes of looking at the wiki and playing around with the militia screen before I could figure out the correct combination of burrows and alerts to get what I want. Seriously, fuck the military in this game.

That's the Were-elephant in yellow, by the way. The Ñ there. Why Ñ though? I guess that's the universal symbol for lycanthropic pachyderms? I don't know why I accept every ASCII symbol in the game except this one, but, here we are.

So the Were-elephant shows up right next to the wall I'm building, and attacks the first person it seem: a mason who was working on the wall named Bomrek, scurrying home to the Living Quarters as fast as his little feet will take him. This isn't the crazy Bomrek, by the way, it's a different one. Poor Bomrek goes down almost immediately. The Were-elephant tackled Bomrek to the ground and bit his spleen out. Once again, I employ no hyperbole. That's how Bomrek died.

Between the new wall and the Underpass is my pasture. The Were-elephant seemed driven with a mad fury to kill, because instead of seeking out more dwarves, he turned his attention to my animals. Datanerith's hens, llamas, rams... and its dogs. There were two dogs in the pasture that day, and they both attacked. And they were awesome.

Seriously, this dog has taken more punishment than all my dead dwarves combined!

Now the dogs didn't defeat the Were-elephant. They're not trained yet. They're not war dogs. They're just some dogs that have been wandering the fort, spending all their time laying around outside with the roosters. They put up a better fight than I expected, but elephants apparently make for some terrifying werecreatures. However, this bought some time for my militia to form up in the barracks. They were quick about it, too. After the first dog died, I sent them out to attack.

Then, suddenly, the Were-elephant was gone. In his place is a human named Vispol Lason. Naked as the day as he was born. Vispol Lason runs away before my militia can get to him. He's escaped judgment, but at least Datanerith is safe for another day. I cancel the alert and get to making a casket for Bomrek.

Having your organs ripped out by a Were-elephant's a worthy death. At least there's one dead dwarf I'm not embarrassed by.

I'm left with one dead dog, one crippled dog, and one dead dwarf. Fuck you, Vispol Lason.

Monday, March 24, 2014

Datanerith Entry 18: One Dwarf's Trash...

So, there were four merchants that came to trade. Three of them made it straight to the trading depot. One of them, Urist, had trouble getting his cart down the mountainside to where the depot was located, at the mouth of the Underpass. See, I'd been having my miners chip away at the slopes of the mountain near the fort's entrance, so it was nothing but a plummet straight down for about a hundred feet on either side. It's a defense measure. And it looks like Urist had a bit of a tumble, and his wagons full of tradeable goods just... fell.

The, uh... the wagons are now deceased. 

I've never seen this in my life. I'm not sure if it's a bug in the game, or what. What I am sure of, however, is that there's a lot of unclaimed stuff just kinda strewn about on the ground there now. Just lying there on a pile of lumber that used to be Urist's wagon. I have the option of having my dwarves claim it. Seriously, take a look at all this shit:

Click to make it bigger. I circled in orange where the wagon fell.

Look, I know these are fellow dwarves, and not elves, but what am I supposed to do? Let the kobold thieves take it? I don't see Urist struggling to get any of this shit back. He's just standing there staring at it like an idiot. Hell yeah I claimed it! Praise Armok! We'll never go hungry again! Weapons, clothes, armor, food!

I wasn't able to do any trading at all. Three of the four merchants of Kastolvutok were already at the depot, along with my broker, Mistem, but I still couldn't trade. They were waiting for their wagon to arrive, I guess. Probably standing around making awkward small talk with Mistem. "I wonder what's keeping Urist? He's got all our stuff. I'm sure he'll be here - with our glorious bounty of goods - any minute now." I mean, don't get me wrong... it's not like I feel bad or anything. But Urist has gotta be in some deep shit with his bosses.

But at least now I have some metal! Here I come, Bomrek!


Sunday, March 23, 2014

Datanerith Entry 17: Snake Puncher

Solon the Mace Lord went to get a drink from the well outside, and a rattlesnake that'd been scaring some of the dwarves attacked him. So he punched it to death. He grabbed the rattlesnake by its fucking fang and then punched it and scratched it with his fingernails until it died. That's not hyperbole on my part in any way. That is literally exactly what happened.

More to the point: can anyone explain how a rattlesnake can stand up?

That story doesn't tie into anything else, I just... I had to tell someone. Solon is quickly becoming my favorite dwarf.

I carved out a section with some small rooms at the bottom of the Martial Quarter, and outfitted one of them with my last rope. These are my jail cells. My fort's getting pretty big, and it's about time that I put a little thought into the justice system. Just something for the horizon. Not that I foresee any problems coming up anytime too soon. Bomrek.

Ah! The dwarven merchants of Kastolvutok have returned! We're still gonna be doing our trading by my garbage, but at least this time I'll actually have some stuff to trade. Thank Armok. These guys are just in time to prevent a minor catastrophe. Please have metal please have metal please have metal please have metal


The outpost liaison, a thin dwarf by the name of Mosus Eshtansanad, came with the merchants and wanted to speak with the highest ranking dwarf at Datanerith. Ever since Endok died by that alligator, most leadership has fallen to Rakust, the doctor. Rakust was busy setting up his new hospital, though, and was dealing with the responsibilities that came with his new position as Chief Medical Dwarf, so the outpost liaison kinda chased him around for an almost comical length of time before getting to him. Even then, as Mosus blathered on about trade agreements, Rakust just kept working on his hospital.

Or maybe he just wanted all these dwarves to STOP SLEEPING IN HIS HOSPITAL.

Mosus asked us what we'd like to request from next year's caravan. I asked for as much iron as they could bring, because frankly, I'm not sure when (or if) I'll be finding iron of my own. I've got plenty of flux stone for steel (chalk is flux, and it's pretty much all I have!). I asked for some seeds, and some weapons as well, but I'll be able to make the weapons when that iron comes. It's that precious metal I need.

Right Bomrek?

Datanerith Entry 16: Creepy Sketches

I've got a hospital now. It's in the section of "Old Datanerith," now the Martial Quarter, where the dormitory and the bookkeeper's office used to be. There's a huge wing of the fort dedicated both to offices and rooms now, though, so the conversion was no big deal. The hospital has everything it could need: cloth, thread, splints, crutches, traction tables, etc. The only thing it's missing is soap. I have no idea how to make soap. Something to do with fat and ash, right? It's not high on my list of priorities. Oh, and my hospital has beds, of course. Which means that some lazy assholes keep sleeping in the hospital.

You've all got individual fucking bedrooms, with furniture, you fucking dorfs! Stop napping in hospital beds!

So Bomrek, the fort's blacksmith, has entered a mood. By now we should know what that means, but there's a twist this time: she's a blacksmith. See, so far with the strange moods, I've gotten pretty lucky. Like, really lucky. Every time somebody enters a mood, they want to make a specific item that they have in mind. That's why every mood so far has ended with some kind of artifact for the fort. The kind of item depends on the skill of the maker. A jeweler made a sculpture of gemstone. A bowyer made an epic crossbow. A blacksmith is going to want to make something out of metal... which I don't have.

I can make a forge easily enough, though. I mean, I have to do something. Bomrek is just standing there creepily in the dining hall, muttering to herself. She's clearly expecting something, and if I disappoint her, she's gonna flip. She might flip out even if I do build the forge. What if I don't have the materials she needs? It's a very real, and dangerous, possibility right now.

So, uh, I'll just... build the forge over here in the Martial Quarter...

Right over there next to Solon the Mace Lord. No reason.

So Bomrek immediately claimed the metalsmith's forge and started making sketches about the sort of thing she wants to build. She's being all weird and creative, though, so I have to figure out what she wants from the sketches. She's drawing: skeletons, a forest, a quarry, stacked cloth, and shining balls of metal. OK... so, I can figure this out. Looks like she wants bone, wood, stone (maybe stone blocks?), cloth, and metal. I've got all that!

Except metal. If I don't get some metal, then we're going to have a serious problem, here.

Oh yeah, that'll solve it. 

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Datanerith Entry 15: The Mace Lord

Solon Beridos, named Earthcalled by some, is one of my newer dwarves. All of his hair, including his long mustache and beard, is neatly combed. He's got a scratchy voice, a narrow chin, and is described as very fat, but very agile. He's not easily moved to pity and is rarely discouraged. He clicks his tongue constantly when he's trying to remember something.

Solon Earthcalled came to me in the most recent migrant wave. The wave was actually twelve dwarves strong, not seven like I said; I just didn't look that closely when I drafted them into my military. Solon was one of the seven that was drafted. Like all the rest, I never really took a close look at him. Something, though, told me that maybe I should.

Some subtle, barely whispered message.

Well! Apparently I have a bonafide warrior here in Datanerith. And by "warrior," I don't mean someone like Ral, or Stakud, or the two Zuglars. Those guys are pretty hard, yeah, but Solon here is a mace lord. His skill with a mace surpasses... well, anything that Datanerith has ever seen. It is very likely that he will be as effective a fighting force as the rest of my army combined. Maybe more.

Here he is leading a dodging demonstration because of course he is.

I know what you're asking yourself. What has Solon done for the fortress? None of the kills at Datanerith are his! Only Ral and Stakud can make such a claim. Including that goblin, Ral's got four kills, and Stakud's sitting pretty on nine. Solon's spent all his time in the barracks! But! There's a way to see how many kills a dwarf has made in his entire life. Let's take a look at the experience Solon's got under his belt. Let's see how much combat he's seen before he came to Datanerith:


Datanerith Entry 14: Baby Snatchin' Blues

The goblin baby snatcher ran off before I could even see where it was. I guess it saw Vitriol, peed all over its stupid goblin feet, and just retreated. I figured I was safe at least for more than forty-five seconds, but the goblins of Ngerxung Ur had other ideas.

Again? Jesus, dude, c'mon. I just had these things made!

Seriously, though, the snatchers aren't actually much of a problem. Between my traps, half my entire military training right there at the entrance, and Vitriol the Giant Scorpion, if a goblin even managed to sneak past my impressive defenses to nab a baby, they weren't getting out alive. I think the goblin thief, whose name was Zolak Mucousflies, knew this. He just started running away before he even made it to the Underpass. Honestly, the worst thing about Mr. Mucousflies was the new-found knowledge that we've got goblins. It's like seeing a cockroach in your bathroom.

Well, Zolak had the right idea in running away, but I'm afraid he didn't do a very good job at pulling it off. The master thief accidentally stumbled into the Zuglars: Zuglar Athelorrun, an off-duty soldier who was napping off a hangover beside the new henhouse, and Zuglar Loribel, a hunter who apparently knows his way around a crossbow about as well as ol' Studok. The Zuglars didn't even take the time to register surprise. Zuglar A. just tackled and punched the shit out of Zolak while Zuglar L. shot the poor goblin about seven times. 

Let's let my terrible MSPaint skills do the talking:

I didn't even realize we had silver bolts. Will the wonders of Elven generosity ever cease to surprise me?

Zolak was literally crawling away before I even realized that there'd been a fight. His left leg was torn up in three places, and his right foot was completely shattered. The Zuglars didn't give chase. They no doubt thought that leaving an opponent alive in shame was a superior victory than killing him outright. I personally disagreed, so I mobilized the entire melee squad and told them to bring me the body of Zolak Mucousflies, Goblin Thief.

The entire squad, in the middle of a training exercise, charged the crippled goblin in a roaring wave of fury, but it was Ral, the militia commander, who got the kill.

We're all in agreement that Ral is a fucking badass now, right?

Friday, March 21, 2014

Datanerith Entry 13: The Pitter Patter of Dwarven Feet

It seems my Living Quarters couldn't have come a moment too soon! I've recently found out that, in the cramped dormitory that served as a shared bedroom for the majority of the fortress, many of my dwarves have been... getting busy.

Exhibit A!

Wait, Minkot? The moody jeweler? Huh. You know that actually explains quite a bit. I mean, kinda. It doesn't explain why she gave birth right there in the middle of a crowded dining room. Cog the Carpenter and Ral, the Axe-Wielding leader of the crossbowdwarves both just kinda sat there and watched it happen. I guess Minkot just wanted to ensure that she could have a snack, like, immediately afterwards. I checked the stats; the baby girl's name is Mafol, and the father is Asmel. The bookkeeper! Well that makes sense, I guess. His office was, like, right next to the dormitory. I guess one night he just poked his head out, saw whiny ol' Minkot, and said "You'll do."

First the bookkeeper and now the broker? All my smart dwarves are getting laid like crazy!

Whoa, OK! Barely even had time to let Minkot's child register. That's cool, though, the Elven Charity had donated more than enough food for a couple more kids. Mistem's little girl is named Datan. Nice! This fortress is called Datanerith. Datan is a damn fine name if you ask me, Mistem. Damn fine. And who's the father...? Sibrek? Hahahaha, seriously?? You fucked Sibrek, Mr. Trip-On-A-Chicken-and-Break-His-Back? Oh, god, somebody keep their eyes on poor Datan. 

I didn't even know Melbil was a woman!

OK, shit! Stop making babies! We've got too many fucking babies in this fort!

You know what? Just take it. I've got plenty.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Datanerith Entry 12: The Fortress Gets Militarized

Datanerith's first level, what was once the entirety of the fort, is now dedicated solely to its military. Let's start with the entrance.

I call it "The Underpass." My girlfriend said it looked like an erect throbbing penis... then she mumbled something about patriarchy and walked away.

The Underpass is the only way in or out of the fortress. I have no backdoors or hidden entrances. Anybody attacking - or stealing - from Datanerith will have to make their way through this long tunnel. Notice the small green up-arrows at the top of the tunnel. Those are cage traps. One step on those and a wooden cage immediately imprisons you. That's the most merciful way Datanerith has of dealing with intruders.

Past that is a post; you'll notice there's a "dip" on either side of the hallway for my dwarves to get around it. That's because I've tethered a giant bark scorpion to the post. That's what that yellow "S" is there. Originally I thought about using a war dog, but once that elven caravan so graciously offered me this new pet, how could I resist? I've nicknamed him Vitriol, and he is my second line of defense. Whatever makes it through the cages has to make it through Vitriol.

Then, the Martial Quarter!

Yeah, that's that stupid Raspedink bed made out of chrysoprase spikes. The dwarves just kinda left it there. 

Right after the elves left, seven new migrants arrived. They, of course, went straight into my melee squad before I even learned their names. I've got twenty soldiers, now; ten melee and ten ranged. I've converted my old barracks into an armory, filled with all the weapons and armor that Datanerith can make. The old storehouse has been converted into a new barracks, where you can see all my dwarves training. I plan on building a wall and installing a few beds so they can sleep. Across the hallway is the shooting gallery. It turns out that dwarves need individual "rooms" to shoot at archery targets, and the rooms cannot overlap. So I had my masons built some walls, separating the archery targets into individual lanes. And it worked! My dwarves are practicing with crossbows now!

Did I ever know beauty before this moment?

The old dormitory, which I no longer need now that I have an entire wing dedicated to bedrooms and offices, is empty for now. I plan on taking down the walls separating it from the bookkeepers office - he'll have a much nicer one soon anyway - and converting the room to a proper hospital. Poor Rakust, the doctor, has gone without any decent facilities for several months now. What better place for him to set up shop than the Martial Quarter?

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Datanerith Entry 11: The Joy of Elves

I'm still working on building my Living Quarters into something that can house all these damn dwarves. I've tucked everything away, far from the clanging and hammering of the Industry Quarter so everybody can sleep in peace, and have tried to set it up so I can easily expand it when another huge migrant wave swarms Datanerith. It's still far from done, but here's what I've got so far:

Don't look too closely, people with OCD. I'm not kidding. Once you see the asymmetry you're going to start gnashing your teeth.

I'm pretty lavish with my bedrooms, I know, but I like my dwarves happy. Every dwarf gets a 3x3 room of their own, and each room comes equipped with a bed, trunk, and shelf. In the hallway between the two stairwells I've got ten slightly larger rooms that I'll set aside to use as offices and private dining rooms for the dwarves that make such demands. The large rooms to the right will be for the nobility. I've got a spike-covered bed made out of green gemstone for one of those rooms.

Another kobold stole from me. I'm gonna have to do something about those little fuckers.

Food is still a problem, though. Nobody's starving just yet, but I was barely equipped for the twenty I had, let alone the forty-nine I have now. Unless a wagon stuffed to the brim full of meats, cheese, and fruits comes to Datanerith, we're going to have a problem.

I guess hippies are just as good.

The Elves of Eyidaathe, "enchanted by more ethical works," are here to do some trading! Excellent! The only problem is, all I have is some of that worthless chrysoprase... and the elves will refuse to trade with me at all if I offer them anything made of lumber. They think cutting down trees is unethical. They have so much I could use, and I have nothing to offer in return. 


OK, so hear me out: elves are assholes in this game. Seriously, they're cannibals, and they're insulting, and they'll start wars if you cut down too many trees and don't listen to their mandates. These elves may not have done anything to my fort personally, but still... It's not like they still don't deserve it, right? Well, ok, maybe they don't deserve it, but it's not like it's really ethically wrong to take everything I want from them, right? Well, ok, maybe it is, but you know what? Morally speaking... there's two of them and forty-nine of me.

Goddamn right.

 I've taken all their food and cloth. And a giant scorpion in a cage. Because why not?

Monday, March 17, 2014

Datanerith Entry 10: New Migrants, New Recruits

Ah, new migrants. Good, good. Unlike last time, where food was starting to be a problem, I've got enough to last. Some fruitful trading, plus good harvest and a rooster who knows how to impregnate some hens, have led to some stocked pantries. So bring on the dwarves! Bring on the -

Wait... how many?


That's twenty-nine migrants. My fortress currently only has twenty. It's got sixteen beds for Armok's sake! OK, so, obviously the old dormitory setting isn't working anymore. And let's be honest, it hasn't been working for the last two migrant waves. I set my miners to carving out new Living Quarters immediately. It's an ambitious project, so it'll take a while. In the meantime, fuck, sleep on the floor or something guys. Twenty-nine, c'mon.

Obviously a bunch are going into the military. Right now my system of "let two idiots follow around a single axe-dwarf while the hunter actually takes care of everything" is working pretty well, but, when the goblins come I'm going to want to be prepared. I've decided I want ten crossbowdwarves, and three melee warriors. And that means... the militia menu.

More forts have fallen due to this screen than all the flooding accidents and tantrum spirals combined.

I'm still not sure why my marksdwarves aren't training in their archery range. They have crossbows. The crossbows are equipped. They have a barracks, and they have an archery range, with plenty of room. Maybe if I check out the ammunition...? Ah, that's it! All the ammo has been forbidden for some reason, and no ammunition has been assigned to the marksdwarves squad. I unforbid and assign. So, we're good now, right?

Oh you lazy bastards.

OK, well, my melee squad is training at least. Tholtig, Vabok, and Vabok. That's not a typo, there's two dwarves named Vabok. The two Vaboks are watching Tholtig show them how to dodge. Good! Dodging is important! Just ask poor retarded Sibrek.