Dwarf Fortress:Spearnotched:252
Dwarf_Fortress:Spearnotched:251
Dwarf_Fortress:Spearnotched:253
Editors note: Anything listed in legends or histories regarding characters is true. Fath's history, for example, is correct and confirmed in Legends.
Prologue
Mayor's Log: It is a new year, and with that comes the responsibility to change the way things are done! For what is a Fortress without changing the traditions? It is EVERY OTHER fortress, I say!
We have issues, yes. I have solutions.
There are children wandering the fortress - send them to daycare! The fortress is ill-defended. So we improve the defenses! Wild dogs run amok in the fortress - turn the beasts amok into beasts for ARMOK and train them as war dogs and hunting dogs and devil dogs.
There is a werelizard in the fortress? I have solved this. My husband was carrying on about his theories for curing the werelizard. "Hold on," I said, "how do you know of the werelizard's current state?" And then he reminded me of the observatory! The floor was built up to prevent escape, but surely we can pull it open, replace the flooring with fortifications and then rain arrows of death upon it. Of course, the people of the fortress refuse to slay the beast while in dwarven form, so we will have to await the full moons for the transformation.
"But what of the child?" Should it survive - and I hope it will not come to that - we leave it to its grief until it is old enough to starve to death. Then it will either perish (sad but necessary) or transform, at which point we will know to a surety that it is a night creature and that slaying it is entirely necessary.
The gods guide us in this, our new charge.
Spring
Mayor's Log, 1st day of whatever: The "baby problem" appears to have solved itself. The mother has finally succumbed to her primal urges. Having spoken to her about this event, even my tenderhearted husband, once an advocate of letting the creature live, has acquiesced that shooting the miserable beast dead is best for all. She shows no remorse over the act, only grief that she must see the body. In fact, she still reports that the joy of "raising a family" has left her, and I quote, "blissful." I shudder to think.
Opening the floor has proven too horrifying for Lorbam Kosothosor, who is even now reeling from what he saw beneath. She apparently was not expecting to see the dead baby, despite this being the sole purpose for which we open now this entombment. Thankfully, her husband Sigun is distracted elsewhere, and will not see what we shall do to his wife.
Mayor's Log, kobold day: First a kobold shows up and is scared away by a plant gatherer, then the Bee Master finds himself taken of a fey mood. What a world we live in! He has claimed a craftdwarf's station, and I hope he makes something of great worth. Something... quiver shaped, perhaps? I see sand pear logs, schist blocks, mangled turkey bone, alpaca wool and silver bars. That could make for a heck of a quiver!
In the meantime, I have told the militia to do as they please until such a time as the transformation occurs. Then, they will have all the cause they need to feather Thob with arrows such that she never again is a threat to our wellbeing.
'Dog' is displeased with his quarters, so I had the engravers add murdered elf pictures to them. Apparently, he's enjoying them.
Mayor's Log, some time later, but still spring: Apparently, we don't have enough ropes for a proper justice system, so I went ahead and added some in the daycare. That way, the prisoners can assist in keeping an eye on the children. I'm always thinking.
Mayor's Log, regalia day: To match the crown, we now have a scepter! The regalia grows! Wait a moment... is that an image of Bannerround? Truly the recursion of that thing is a testament to the world-shattering power of dwarven art. The Bee Mistress' misgivings are of no consequence to me in this matter.
Mayor's Log, stupid elves: An elven caravan arrived. We have traded several pieces of pear casserole for their wares. Among the usual brick-a-brak of elven knick-knackery (ironic terminology considering how little knacking elves do - I do kill myself!), anyway, they had a Giant Jaguar. I thought to myself, "What better way to put this creature to use than to train it for war?" I plan to equip a beastmaster to patrol with it, the better to consume the flesh of foolish thieves and demolish ambushers with lithe catlike grace.
Mayor's Log, risk day: The ghost of our hunter, Edzul, is far too dangerous to leave in the fortress. I have confined the werelizard to a single burrow (asking her politely, but firmly, to stay put). This strategy it has seemed, worked shockingly well. We were able to retrieve all the bodies and overturn the beds (which we did primarily to make the place less comfortable for the creature). Once all this was done, and the ghost was laid to rest, we resealed the chamber, and Thob said a fond goodbye, adding ominously that she was a bit thirsty. It won't be long now. Archers in position.
Mayor's Log, full moon, 25th of Granite: When the sun goes down, she will transform, we will feather her, and the reign of terror and bloodshed will end.
In the meantime, we get migrants!
- Etur Dorenardes, Cook, has some minor combat experience, so we put him straight in the combat corps!
- Dobar Nishmidor, Carpenter, likewise has some combat experience. Married with one child, she should see having something to come home for as reason enough to fight her best! ...correction: looks like neither came with her. Oh well.
- Zuglar Azothadil, Animal Caretaker, has precious little other life experience and, furthermore, openly states that he sees merrymaking as a waste. He brought his pet ram with him. I almost ordered it to be gelded so he could uphold his opinions on merrymaking, but for some reason decided against it.
- Kikrost Tradrakust, Potash Maker, like Etur and Dobar, has some meager combat experience. Since we've potash enough for the time being (being until I learn what it is) I'm fine with putting her in the militia.
- Ineth Bidokvutok is Kikrost's child.
- Endok Melbilakgos, Animal Dissector, is a grouchy lady with an abundance of children - five little devils have escaped from within her. She has no other skills to speak of, so more opportunity to have the walls smoothed off.
- Bim Stukonoslan, fish dissector and metal crafter, is Endok's husband. His skills, like hers, are of little value, so I went ahead and ordered him to take up a pick.
- Sakzul Shedimolin, Fishery Worker, is more eclectic, and does pretty much everything fish related.
- Melbil Rulablel, Craftsdwarf, explained that he makes stone, wood, and wax craft. I hope to have him sculpt a realistic version of me to put in the workshops to keep tabs on all the dwarves. They won't dare slack off with me watching then directly.
- Cilob Nakuthurdim, Shearer, is my new least favorite dwarf. Not only is his only skill shearing, but he came with a myriad of injuries, including, but not limited to, a severed foot, scraped eyelids (ew...) and a bruised brain. I don't think he'll make it at all, especially with out questionable medical facilities, but I'm liable to assign the least skilled peasant as my new surgeon.
- Shem Aristdumat, Clothier, is not only skilled with clothes, but a new recruit! She'll make a fine soldier.
- Shem Zuglarosed, Engineer, wife of Shem Aristdumat. Shem and Shem. Heh. Anyway, he's an engineer, which was exciting, until I realized that he's a seige engineer, which is not exciting.
- Fath Avuzsibrek, Farmer, shears tanned herbs.
- Rakust Ikudoslan, Cook, is merely adequate at what she does, so I told her that she is never permitted to pick up so much as a saucepan so long as she is here.
- Kol Lunreg, Bone Carver... is not Edem. EDEM was a bone carver. This is a guy who carves bones.
- Kadul Romlamlor, Leatherworker, is merely adequate at the one thing her does.
- Shorast Lashedletmos, Peasant - ding ding ding! WE HAVE A WINNER! Congrats - you're the new chief medical dwarf. Enjoy.
- Ral Mafolning, Farmer, something something MILITIA!
- Monom Ustuthvush,
FarmerMILITIA!
That's everyone. Also, today I learned Fortifications don't work down. Next month, we kill the beast.
Mayor's Log, Slate 1st: Our new chief medical dwarf has finished his diagnosis. It turns out that Cilob is, and I quote, "Footless on no less than one side." His prescription was, "Learn to use crutches, or regrow that foot if possible." He also suggested that Cilob should perhaps consider, "growing a few spares, just in case." I think we have a medical prodigy on our hands!
from the journal of Bim Itebimik, last of the Shieldkickers of Spearnotched
Slate 6th
They put me behind a crossbow because they fear the power of the smiting tortoiseshell technique and want me instead to focus my art into the way of the piercing bolt. I do not begrudge them this - without an invulnerable shield of adamantine, my kicks may break asunder the very equipment they give me for the practice of my craft.
I am the last of my kind - the others were slain in the werelizard attack, save one. Thob Oddomromlam... Thob, dear friend. You gave all your could, but you there was no way you could stave off that terrible curse - the curse of the night creature. I have personally asked that I be allowed to engage you in honorable single combat to restore the glory of our order. The mayor has denied my request on the grounds that I'll just turn into another problem for the fortress.
But we have been given permission to stand by the newly built fortifications and there to end Thob's misery. At least we can do that for you, old friend.
We wait now. We wait for the full moon when the transformation is upon you... then we do what is necessary.
Slate 23rd
We tried old friend. We truly did... but there was nothing that could be done. Dozens of arrows pierced your flesh, but you would not die, and when you resumed dwarven form, we all lost the heart and spirit to go on with it.
Slate 24th
Dwarves, primarily the newcomers, have taken great affront to the treatment of Thob! Complete and utter anarchy has broken loose and the fortress is in shambles! Even now it is brother fighting brother in bloody brawls. In the commotion, the Fortifications were torn down and an angry mob converged on Thob. she gestured menacingly as though she planned to try to bite one before it was too late, but the Bee Mistress decapitated her with an axe. We were quick to confirm that there was no biting involved.
Kikrost, Potash Maker, has proven herself a prodigy with the battle axe! She effortlessly dispatched half a dozen dwarves in a terrified battle frenzy, at least two with swift single-swipe decapitations! If only she had the stomach for it - she completely lost her cool and eventually a large collection of dwarves overcame her the only way they could. Her rampage earned her the honorific title "The Incineration of Nails."
I am utterly overcome by terror and trauma. Good dwarves died this day, and many mediocre ones as well.
I must take time to recover. We must lay our dead to rest.
Felsite 12th
Our chief medical dwarf lost a toe. Cog Orrunfeb, the Herbalist has performed surgery to try to press the broken bone back into place and clean the wound.
Hopefully, there is no infection. We shall see.
Summer
From the Diary of Mafol Berestun, Dwarven Baby
Hematite 1st
Kol Cattentolun is dead. Kol was mother. Ustuth Amkolonul is dead. Ustuth was father. Parents dead. No hope. Jump off cliff.
Hematite 2nd
Still not dead. No cliffs high enough here. Wait for buzzards to eat body.
Hematite 9th
Cannot die. Not cliffs large enough. So sad. So very very sad.
Bee Mistress's Log: Look, let's be clear. Nothing useful in the fort gets accomplished unless I take things into my own hands.
First and foremost, we need to get beds in all the bedrooms and ensure that there are enough for all the dwarves. Why wasn't this priority one? No one but children should be sleeping in the daycare, much less in the hospital!
Second, we need to clear out a large area for underground grazing. I'm thinking a biodome of at least four stories should allow us to create a park of sufficient size.
There are other concerns. We only have ore for silver, lead and copper at this time. We should delve more deeply, more greedily.
I also commissioned interlocking airlocks at the Trade Depot. Even though they look the same when open and closed, it should be a simple matter to tell - the only question you need to ask is, "Can the merchants access the Trade Depot?"
Fath Avuzsibrek, Herbalist's diary
Hey! I'm keeping a diary while I pick cherries! I get to stand on this awesome step ladder at the edge of this cliff and pick these cherries while I write in my journal! Nothing bad could ever happen bec
Rakust Cogazin's journal, Hematite 18th
Found Fath today. She managed to fall off a ladder. But not just fall off a ladder - she was, apparently, using the edge of a nearby cliff to harvest the cherries from the highest point on the tree and fell off. Her entire right side is a mangled mess, and her left side is pretty badly bruised in general. The twisted angle she landed at also meant that she tore her left ear to shreds despite landing firmly on her right side. What a mess.
I got to talking to her as I brought her back. She said she was grateful that someone found her. She's lead quite an extraordinary life. As a child, she was abducted by goblins from the Terror of Magic, but managed to escape and return to Bearboat, where she reunited with her parents and tried to settle into Farming. Eventually, though, she realized that she had little in common with the people she had once called "family." She married and chose to leave it behind for this fortress.
I asked her about the Terror of Magic as she lost consciousness, and she told me terrible stories of their fortress "Chewedfiend," where their tribe, known as the Poison of Gifts, dwelt. She told me they too settled in the Destined Plains, all too near to Spearnotched, and why they had not yet attacked was a mystery to her.
"How long had they been there?" I asked her.
"Always," she coughed, "Since the dawn of this age, they have been there."
I asked of the kidnappings. She said they have been taking no less than two hostages per year since the year... 2. It is the year 252, if even a quarter of those remain, they have at least a hundred hostages.
I asked 'Dog', as he is the Sheriff, what this could mean for our Fortress. He scowled and explained that this was not unknown to him. He said that those who are held hostage for long enough frequently join these goblin societies. They join them. As in they become members and consider themselves full-fledged goblins. Now I know why it was that Edem was so insistent that children should be sequestered.
I hope Fath recovers. I now have so much to ask her.
Fikod Emathoddom's journal, 21st of Hematite
I can see it! In my minds eye! I can feel it inside me! The fey! The fey within whispering the secrets! I must make them real! I must bring them into being before it passes!
Fikod's journal, 22nd of Hematite
Immigrants! YES! MORE! MORE TO FEED THE TRUTH THAT IS MANIFEST INSIDE ME! I LIST THEM NOW! I LICK IT IN PATTERNS ON THE FLOOR!
- Kadol Ferdoren, whose name sounds like "Fedora"; she cuts the balls off fish the faeries tell me.
- Goden Ruthoshshorast, a carver of bones, shooter of crossbows, and I claimed this clothier's workshop for my great work!
- Catten Ashmokol, shearer of bees, but he won't get enough cloth of bumblebee fur to give me the tools I need to create the awesome within me.
- Cilob Lelgasingish, a fisher. Gasingish? Not fully gassing... then how can we breathe? HOW CAN WE BREATHE?!
- Zuglar Dorenosust, Herbalist and Brewer. That will be an adequate replacement for the one who fell herself broken.
- Catten Eralnokzam. CHILD. CHILD CHILD CHILD.
- Etur Zuglaramkol. CHILDCHILDCHILDCHILDCHILDCHILD.
- Edzul Zonkadol. ZONkadol. ZON-ZONkadol. ZON-ZON Zonkadol. Brewer, thresher, cutter of balls. I name you Zon-Zon!
- Dastot Ildomcog is worthless. Completely lacking skill. PERfect for the POlice force. POlice. PO... po-lice!
- Litast Asreronul. BURNS wood! WOOD deserves to be BURNED.
- Obok Asteshrit. How many dwarves does it take to run a fortress? FISH.
I gather...
Fikod's journal, 26th of Hematite
FATH SUFFERS! She weeps and screams for her injuries! The doctors stitch her ragged body. This blood music urges me on! I shall finish my magnum opus to this melody.
27th
It begins.
28th
The humans trade their livelihoods for our food. We trade our food for more food. We slaughter the living meats and make them into a thousand lunches worth ten thousand more.
Hematite 30th
It's done. I don't know if this was, perhaps, the best thing I could have made.
Shorast's Medical Journal, Entry the First
Fath wants to be diagnosed. AGAIN. You'd think I hadn't already looked at her a few times. I tried to tell her that every time I've diagnosed her thus far, I've found new issues, so really, the last thing she should want is for me to look at her injuries more. She insisted, so here I am, suddenly finding out that her leg is STILL mutilated. I guess more wounds need to be dressed.
My predecessor had it easy. He originated most of the treatments I've enacted. That's pretty much just making things up. Anyone can do medicine when you're making things up as you go along.
Shorast's Medical Journal, Entry the Second
Ran out of silk. Used yarn. That's just as good. The wound looks a little puffy. I hope I'm going this right. Fath asked for a crutch at my last diagnosis. I pointed out that crutches are for people who aren't required to spend their every waking moment in traction, but then I realized that maybe it'll give her something to hope for. I brought her the crutch anyway.
Shorast's Medical Journal, Entry the Third
Have to admit, I'm pretty surprised the patient is still alive.
Shorast's Medical Journal, Entry the Fourth
Been working on the patient for over a month. According to Butterfingers' notes, that's bad, because I'm supposed to have everything dealt with in the first 48. I'd have to work nonstop for almost that entire time! It's bad enough I'm spending nearly an hour a day on this.
Shorast's Medical Journal, Entry the Fifth
I believe the patient might be suffering from Munchhausen's by Proxy, only without the Proxy. She is requesting diagnosis every few minutes. I feel like I'm stuck in a strange loop of endless diagnosis. Perhaps I'll get really good at it like ol' Butterfingers was.
In any case, I seldom get more than a few feet away from the patient before I'm compelled to run back and take another look.
Shorast's Medical Journal, Entry the Sixth
I have outsourced a considerable portion of my work to Cog Orrunfeb, who says he once took a look at a scraped knee. I told him this is like all the knees that have ever been scraped on one dwarf. I expect this to be the best decision of my career and am now going to have a drink in celebration of my cunning.
Shorast's Medical Journal, Entry the Seventh
It's Galena 1st. You'd think that would mean I get a day off, mostly because I want to take the day off. It doesn't. I'm still diagnosing endlessly. I realized, though that the secret is to make her get out of bed. Then she'll wander about and get better or maybe die. I don't know. Either way, I requested that the traction bench be removed. That got her on her feet and hobbling. She went and had a snack before Rakust put her back to bed. That woman needs to stop meddling in important medical business!
Back to diagnosis.
Shorast's Medical Journal, Final Entry
"SKILLED" Diagnostician? Cog is "SKILLED"? Well, I'm competent. I can't hope to compete with that. I guess Cog is now chief medical dwarf, which is fine, because this job sucks anyway.
Autumn
Fath Avuzsibrek, Herbalist's diary
I feel it... it has begun...
I howl, and Cog somehow knows it is different. Unlike Shorast, Cog can understand the difference between a howl of pain and one of terror. He asks what is wrong, and I tell him - they have come. They have come to take me back. I knew this would happen. And he knows. I see the color drain from him, for he knows I am not speaking in the throes of madness. The slavers have come for me.
'Dog' orders everyone inside. When some of the dwarves go out to reclaim the animals, he shakes he head. "No," he says, "I won't abide a single death for the sake of one of our beasts."
The alternate entrances to the fortress are pulled closed and the single trapped entrance becomes the only way in. Now, we wait, and pray.
Predictably, they begin their carnage in the fields, slaughtering our livestock. The Bee Mistress shakes her head and says, "This is why we need indoor fields. Safety from goblins." Dog says this is good. Dog says they will use up their arrows on dumb beasts and leave their archers open for slaughter. We shall see...
Siege: day 13
The pain is still deep within me. I fear I may not recover, but I would live long enough to see the siege broken and justice performed on the goblins. Dog was right - they have no more arrows and have even over-exerted themselves against our rabbits, but the loss of livestock is too much for a number of us, and there are those even now who let grief and horror rule them.
The traps have proven effective. Several goblins are now slain, and others are caged.
That idiot Dastot, apropos of nothing, saw fit to sally forth on his own and tangle with skilled goblins. We're not sure why, as she was explicitly ordered to stay inside, and no one is joining her in her one-dwarf crusade.
Siege: day 15
Dastot returned alive! She took some swings at one of the goblins, failing to land a single one, and took some blows herself, but she returned inside, running through the trap passage safely! When she got inside, she was disappointed they didn't make chase, as that was apparently her entire plan. Without that she shrugged and said that she can manage.
Siege: day 17
I have a serious infection of my mangled ear. I hope the doctor will catch it in time and pray it can yet be amputated.
Meanwhile, apparently our wood burner is the rightful Baroness. Who knew? She waited until the siege to announce this, knowing that he claim would go largely unchallenged, given the effort being diverted to ensuring that no one is slaughtered by goblins.
We will wait no longer, Dog says. He is weary of opportunists already. Our men will sally forth and slay the goblin scourge. I only pray that the blood runs more green than red.
Siege: day 18th
Goden Obokonam is dead. He charged in recklessly and managed to fire off only a single bolt before a goblin swordsman ended it all. He was a newcomer, so not much missed, but it will still be a blow to morale.
The last remaining goblin has literally worn himself completely out in slaughtering rabbits, and fell unconscious from exhaustion. Our entire militia went to end him. This proved a surprisingly difficult task. The commander of the militia, Ral Mafolning, did an admirable job of mutilating the goblin's foot with his shortsword, but ultimately suffered the greatest cost when his first blow only managed to hobble the creature. Leaping up, it blocked his first blow, crushed his shield hand completely and knocked him to his knees in pain. From there, there was nothing that could be done. An archer fired a bolt in a desperate bid to prevent the inevitable, but the goblin interposed its shield, then, in furious vengeance, smashed Ral's head over and over with his mace until it was nothing but pulp. The very next bolt struck home, puncturing the goblin's brain and giving our own macedwarf an opportunity to revisit the same violent end upon him that he had upon Ral.
We have losses to mourn, but the siege is broken. I will die of my infection - I already know this to be my destiny, but I will die a free Dwarf, not a victim of the slavers once more.
I will fulfill my purpose and conduct noble work until my time here ends.
Baroness' Journal
My inheritance has come! I am now the sovereign baroness of this domain! Noblesse oblige dictates that I must make this demesne better than it was before. The first thing I must do is ensure that we never again live through the terror of a goblin siege and, to that end, I must ensure several things in a prioritized order:
- There must be no cause - none whatsoever - for a dwarf to risk the world outside unprotected. While there may be cause to go topside, we should never do so unprotected by, at bare minimum, tall walls to protect us.
- We must ensure a steady supply of water and lumber, subject to control on a whim. The extant water tower may be converted to this end, although it shall be altered to be accessible from within the fortress. It can double as a tower from whence to cast the vicious invaders to their death.
- Trap corridors must be constructed in earnest. What we have now is insufficient! I want trap corridors and murder holes to ensure that our archers can rain death from safe locales.
We're performing cleanup, and it turns out that neither this 'Dog' the Sheriff nor Dastot, our sole officer, have the stomach for death. Each of them nearly faints at the sight of dead goblin. This does not bode well.
There has been further immigration to my wondrous domain!
- Tekkud Zaslaltur is an animal caretaker who I immediately assigned to mining duty.
- Ducim Lolokanam is a Beekeeper who I immediately assigned to stone smoothing duty.
- Cilob Nebelmonom is a Ranger, and the newest member of our archery community.
- Fath Sernish is a Woodcrafter, so I added other wood-related tasks to his work orders.
- Zasit Sarveshavthsith, dwarven child will be placed directly in daycare.
- Rovod Thusestlokum, Wax Worker, a new addition to the mining corps.
- Rith Endokromek, another child also to be placed in daycare.
- Amost Kilrudzuntir, Miner. Well... nice to see someone doesn't need to be reassigned.
- Solon Tathtatonul, Animal Dissector, destined to be a farmer.
- Asmel Osudib, a Peasant, now the head of the Blockaded Seals Squad (to replace his ill-fated predecessor).
- Amost Sarveshilid, Lye Maker, who I have further assigned to wood burning and potash making.
- Adil Ontakasmel, Wax Worker and, glory of glories, also a competent speardwarf!
- Mafol Taremsodel, another child, another member of the daycare. I hope to see many graduates with excellent social skills.
- Tholtig Adiltaron, Soap Maker, who appears to also have some archery skill and be excellent at many things. I suspect him, already, of being a vampire.
- Ushat Girethsibrek, Animal Dissector, who will also be gathering fruit.
Altogether, not the worst group, but sadly not the best.
Sandstone 28th
Errors in mining methods have resulted in a casualty. Amost Kilrudzuntir has died. He should have been more cautious, and I'm just pleased that there were few other injuries, although Sigun Gerigbesmar appears to have broken a finger in the debris.
Timber 5th
Wait... what?
ANOTHER Baroness?!?!
Winter
We have been able to get suitable arrangements for our peer, and after a mostly uneventful winter, Melbil Rulablel has withdrawn from society to work a mysterious project. Since a Craftsdwarf's workshop was claimed, though, there's no telling what will be produced.
A bracelet for example. One worth less than a few of our masterwork sandwiches. How disappointing.
Mining techniques have come a long way. We're improving safety. Our current priority system is thus:
The innermost row should be omitted for maximum safety, as we've had a few near misses with this system as given.
The important thing is to get a number of levels deep such that the megafungi have the opportunity to grow large. It is a well known fact that Tower Caps and other valuable megafungi will not grow until the spores are found deep underground so breaching, then sealing off, the underground should be an eventual goal. I am still considering the best implementation of a power stack for a repurposed water tower. We need an underground tunnel to it, we need to expand it such that power can be diverted without significant risk of flooding, we need to make its power source independent its function, we need a long-term storage, and, finally, we need it to be useful for the execution of invaders.
28th Obsidian - Late Winter
A few final notes.
Mafol Berestun has stopped trying to kill herself, which is nice.
We have struck and underground cavern! This is excellent news for a few reasons. First, I'll let the miner's announcement speak for itself:
Second, as previously stated, now the spores will work their way up to our field at a higher lever, providing us, in a few years, with a source of continuous safe lumber.
I am commissioning hatch covers be placed over the underground and, ideally, sealed for now until we can build a barracks deep in the earth. We know not what to expect yet.
Another project I have considered: invaders are a constant, serious threat to our fortress' health. I wish to build a better trap-run along our main entrance. Moreover, I have commissioned several very heavy lead minecarts be produced. With a little effort and track, we can use them to repeatedly run over invaders in a sort of trap hallway. We may need to relocate our entire fortress deeper into the earth and turn the entire upper level into traps and pitfalls for invaders! Such an amusing prospect!
In order to attract the Dwarven King, we need to have roads worthy of a fortress. As such, we are working on roads over by the Trade Depot to ease travel and promote general property.
I have accidentally flooded the reservoir for the well, so once that drains, the final wall and the south end needs to be built so the reservoir can be filled properly.
The goblin prisoners still need to be executed. So there's that.
With any luck, the next year will be the most prosperous ever for Spearnotched! I anticipate a great deal of fun will be had by all!