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[Imic]

I guess that makes it my turn, then. Hopefully this ends a little better than the last two, or at least provide a better tragedy than the second attempt. To quote Yarlig,

Third time's the charm

I’ll claim the save once I’ve eaten food.

[Bralbaard]

https://dffd.bay12games.com/file.php?id=15273

Yet another failure! Pushed my luck too much and ended up eaten by an underground dinosaur; seems even decently skilled and equipped adventurers aren't immune to webbing. Oh well.

I was planning to locate my previous guy's corpse and inset his journal entry into this story' but I never got the chance; think I'm just going to write everything and put it into relevant posts' hopefully sooner than later.

Third time's the charm' so please put me back on the list!

And the save game again comes with poetry 
I'll put you back on the list.

[Imic]

In a wide, open, cold world, under a tall, ancient mountain range, in the far west of the world, alone in its quiet perch besides the birds and the road disappearing into the great valley below, in a labyrinth of corridors and chambers and halls, in the warmth of his deep home, there sat a dwarf, leaning against an ancient shale statue of another of his kind, frozen in a moment of time. In the quiet cosiness of the hall, he began to write.

The journal of Onol Sashasistam

Music

We received the letter less than a week ago, from our cousins, the Dwarves of the Staff of Kissing. No-one saw who the messenger was, they simply dropped the letter off at our front gate and that was that. We're somewhat more isolated than the Forts to the east, and our numbers are limited, so there's no way of tracking the messenger down. While the news that the Staff of Kissing Dwarves have been working on founding a new Fortress-city to the south near Mosshill isn't new, what is interesting is that the letter requested that a Dwarf be sent into the Old Kingdom in the northern mountains to acquire notes, details, sketches, maps and so on of the deep realm. Work has been done for years on recolonizing the edges, but the heart of the Old Kingdom is still nothing more than empty ruins, and it has been decided that I shall be sent into that evil place to acquire the information they requested. I've been supplied with a map of the Old Kingdom, outdated as it may be, and a set of copper armour to bring with me.



I'm suspicious of this. I don't like that the messenger seems to have come and gone out of thin air, without being seen, I don't like that our Fortress at the very corner of the realm was the one contacted instead of a more populated, better connected settlement, I don't even know what they want with this information I am being sent to gather, I'm only vaguely aware of what they're looking for in the first place and I plan to just note down as much as I can to see what I can find. I wasn't even told why the request was accepted, only that there was... payment... of some form, and that payment was more than enough. I'm not one to be easily frightened, but this scares me. I don't know what's going on, but I don't have much of a choice in the matter. I don't know if I am going to make it back alive. I'm going to go now, writing can only delay for so long. I feel sick.

He wandered for some time, through the Fortress. This place was a maze, no matter how long he spent here, he would never completely get used to it. There was no way to tell between doors that lead to empty bedrooms or to the corridor out. He wished, not for the first time, that the ancient Dwarves who built this place had written down something, anything to differenciate between these doors. Finally, he found what he was looking for, the northern stairway to the forges. As he walked down them, he heard a sound. He slowed down. Something was happening down below. He took the next few stairs down, and-


Music



He ran.



He didn't understand what was happening.





He didn't get to see what was happening.



He didn't know what was happening.



Perhaps he never would.





When he reached the surface, the sun low in the west of the clear evening sky, the familiar warmth of home faded almost instantly, and he was greeted only by the cold, but feeling the wind hitting his face up here, far away from the horrors of the great beneath, he felt relieved, maybe more than he ever had in his life. And then he saw the object clutched in his hand, and suddenly, he knew fear again. He didn't remember picking it up. He didn't remember putting away his shield to make room for it. He didn't remember a lot of things.



Music
After I finished my last entry, something happened. There was blood, bodies, shouting, but I kept running. I don't know how long I kept running in circles, looking for a way out. It was like the gods had sealed us inside our home to die. Then I remember stairs, and I remember they kept ongoing, and going, and going... and then there was the wind, and the cold, the damnable cold. I've taken shelter from the wind behind a little cliff by the road, and I've made a fire out of scraps I gathered together. It's enough, but only barely. I plan to keep on the road until I reach the other Dwarven settlements to the west. I will carry out the task I set out to complete, even if I have to walk down to Mosshill myself to deliver the letter. If the letter is even real. I just saw the blood and the bodies of my friends and family fill my home, this task is all I have left, even if the letter was a fabrication, even if I'm being manipulated, I just don't know what to do anymore except keep going. I'm scared. I've heard stories about the Old Kingdom, about labyrinths, about people going mad, about places where my ancestors dug too deep, about forgotten beasts from the depths of the earth, and of... other things. Things that whisper and pull strings. Things that lead you to do things.

When I came out of the Fortress, I had in my hand a divination die. I don't remember going to pick it up, I don't remember where I might have picked it up from, I don't remember putting my things away to pick it up. I'm scared. I'm very scared.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I'm trying out something new, I'm going to try to aim for at least an attempt at horror, it may end up as an edgy mess, but I'm going to try regardless. And please do mention if it's an edgy mess, contrary to popular belief I cannot read people's minds. I had to use DFhack to escape the Fortress I started in, because the gods had sealed me in to prevent me from carrying out my task the game had generated the Fort without giving it an exit.

[Luckyowl]

oh wow. Could you tell us the name of the fortress? So we can remember to not spawn there. 

[Imic]

He passed through the valley one step at a time, the mountains behind him shrinking as the mountains ahead grew.

Underneath that Fortress was the southernmost point of the great underground network of tunnels and deep roads that made up the Old Kingdom.

He was scared.

He picked up some more food, a better spear, and talked a while with the only other Dwarf in the place. There wasn't much to talk about, the stuttered tale of what Onol had seen elicited no reaction from the quiet, watchful expedition leader, and he knew nothing much about the current state of the world beyond the walls of his Fortress.


In the end, there was nowhere to go but down.
Music

Pillars holding up the roof disappeared off into the distance, covered in fungal plantlife. A road streched into the distance, built from huge stone blocks carved centuries ago polished so thoroughly you could see your reflection in the bits that escaped the long, slow march of time wearing it down. The way ahead was dark, and cold. He began to take notes.
I have reached one of the deep roads of the Old Kingdom, at the southernmost tip of the mountains that the Dwarves of old once spread their influence across. The space for the road has been carved straight from the stone, ignoring geography to cut through the lay of the land and reach its destination, digging tunnels or setting up supports anywhere necessary, it seems they would do anything to ensure that the road went as straight as possible with as little deviancy as possible. A lot of care has also been put into the blocks of stone used to build the road itself, and though generations of use and generations of neglect have left them heavily worn in places, patterns can still be made out in places. Not actual or images, just lines, patterns, shapes and such carved into the stone, made through the way that the blocks have been assembled or arranged, the people who made this road put all of their hearts and souls into each chisel stroke. As a Dwarf, it's quite inspiring to see. I would have loved to see the road in its glory days, before the marks had removed parts of the patterns, but unfortunately those are not the times we live in. According to the map, it should keep going for a little while and then split in two. I plan to take the eastern of the two roads, though not for any particular reason. Also, there's water down here! I was worried about that, but it seems that it may not be a massive problem, which is a very good sign.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The Fortress is called Princetomes, it's the westernmost inhabited Fortress on the first image in my first post. I don't know if there'll be any interest in a walking architectural commentary, but hopefully this'll get more interesting soon, if my writing doesn't turn out awful.

[Imic]

Onol's journal, continued.

I continued walking until I began to get drowsy, and then slept for a while. There's no way to tell day from night down here, so there's not much point in keeping that kind of schedule going. Today, I got to see a beautiful sight: the great plump helmet farms of old. As there's no-one left to harvest them, they have grown wild and free for all these years in the dark caves they love. This was how the Dwarves of old survived down here without covering the land in hillocks, they turned the caverns into vast fields of mushrooms. If my history is right and the map isn't hopelessly wrong, I am in the mountain halls of Syrupflares. The walled dye has been doing its best to re-settle the area for years and years now, but little more than sparse habitation is possible with our current dwindled numbers, and the Old Kingdom stretched so far across the mountains that keeping track of it all is beyond impossible even in the limited areas we are currently working to repopulate. The halls are empty and ready for living though, and the plump helmets are just as bountiful as ever, but I've always been worried about resettling these halls. Even putting aside admittedly superstitious fears of ghosts and spirits, Goblins are said to roam the deep roads from those halls where the Dwarves dug too deep, and the caves are difficult to control or keep track of. What can be done if a Goblin raid simply appears from the darkness to slaughter the settlers in their beds? The Dwarves built Fortresses on the surface to keep out invaders, but they never built gates and defences down below, where they once perhaps thought they would never be attacked from.

All these thoughts aside, I'm hoping to run into settlers here, but I'm not certain that I will, these mountain halls are truly, truly vast, and I have no way of knowing which parts have been reclaimed. I plan to keep going northwards regardless, towards the silent, dead heart of the Old Kingdom.
I've found a staircase going down in the road.

These are the homes and cities of the Dwarves of old, who would live and die without ever seeing the sun, clothing themselves in the leather of the creatures that live down here, eating nothing but the mushrooms that grow here, using fungiwood for firewood and timber, the cave moss of the Underworld more familiar to them than grass, and the sun a strange and distant myth.





These halls and caves must have felt so safe back then, when the world above was distant and filled with evil, cruel goblins and tall, scheming humans and... Elves. When this was the world that the Dwarves had carved for themselves, built for themselves, and provided everything they needed. So strong and powerful, they would never need to worry about armies and sieges, they could simply lock themselves away and trade through the deep roads. Before they dug too deep, and before the undead ravaged the world. Sometimes I wish that I was born in those days. It's a strange feeling, nostalgia for a time you never knew. I think I like the sun too much though. I'd best get moving on, it turns out all the water I've been seeing is muddy and disgusting, and if I stop moving for too long I'll start dwelling on having to drink that stuff in the imminent future.
Had to bypass an overflowing magma vent that had presumably not been quite so bad when the road was first built.



Left the territory of the Mountain Hall, didn't see or meet anyone. Running out of water.
Slept again. Out of water.
Reached Letterseizures, the Mountain halls. It's supposedly inhabited, but I don't have my hopes up for meeting anyone.
I ran into two Dwarves! It feels like an age since I last saw a friendly face. Just chatting to them was a breath of fresh air compared to the endless monotony of these infinite tunnels and caves. Neither knew much of what was going on outside their home, being mostly focused on surviving down here. Apparently an army is marching on Shieldflares, once a Frontier fortress on the northern border with the Goblins, now one of the last survivors of the Old Kingdom. Besides that, they didn't tell me where they drank or what they drank when I inquired, so I left that subject behind. There wasn't much more to do, so I headed out again. Every forward step I take in this place makes me feel just a little bit more terrified of what's out there.
I'm starting to get thirsty. I haven't seen any water in a while.
I found some water.

No, I'm still not thirsty enough.
I might be able to reach Throatletters and get water from a surface stream instead. I might.
I'm so thirsty. The tunnels just keep going. I'm scared. That die is heavy.

I REACHED THROATLETTERS!

The sun is so painful, the wind is so cold...

The grass is so, so very green...


Water, oh sweet, clear, water, how I've missed you so...

I've picked up a few dozen extra containers of water, and I'm heading back in. The next stretch of road, at least according to the map, is very, very long, before ending at the heart of the Old Kingdom at Treatyseed. This will be a long trek.

[Bralbaard]

Ah Treatyseed. I wonder if the perpetual goblin-dwarven war is still raging in it's tunnels.

[Imic]

I've come across the corner of some ancient, forgotten farmland, but there's no road towards whichever mountain hall this is a part of, so I'll keep moving north.
I've come to a realization: I've been reading the map wrong. This isn't the road around to Treatyseed, I'm not sure where I am. I'm still on the road though, so it should be fine as long as I keep moving north.
I've taken a left turn at a junction, but I may be losing track, should I have taken the previous left turn? I'm not sure.
Slept again.
I'm definitely lost, but I'm still on the road, I should be fine.
Reached a crossroads. I might now where I am, or I might not, but I hope I do. I've gone north again. I think I'm following the map.
This road just keeps going on, and on, and on.
Took a right turn. Or it might have been a left.
Was there a turn there? Did I see another road? I don't know. I think I'm going the right way.
There were some roads. I took one of them.
The road stopped. Did it even exist? I think it did. I found a new one.
I think the roads are trying to talk to me. Or maybe the blocks just look like that.
More roads. Lots of roads. I think they move when I'm not looking.
The road started going away. I found it again though.
Tired.
Another crossroads. I took one of them.
I think I saw this road before. Or maybe I didn't.
It's very quiet.
I found a bunch of statues. I tried to sleep near them but they wouldn't let me. I wish I knew who they were.
More halls. They went so deep.
The road tried to get away again. It thought I let my guard down.
There was a goblin. Maybe there were several.
The die talked to me. I talked back.
thirsty.
How long has it been? I don't know. I've lost track of when I sleep.
I came to a crossroads. The die told me which way to take. It told me I'm almost there.

[Imic]

There was a left turn there for a second, and then it went away again. I asked the die, but it didn't tell me.
Another crossroads. I didn't need to ask this time, I knew which way to go. The die was so proud.
I saw Serpent people, lots of them.
The roads tried to go away again. The die helped this time.
There were Dwarves, lots of Dwarves.
I got another friend for the Die. It's nice to have more of them to help me.
More people.
Water.
More dice.
Lava.
It's very quiet.
I asked the dice why they wanted more of them today. The first die said that it had tried to do something in a place far, far to the south. It sent Dwarves to act as its servants there to carry out its tasks. The Gods found out, and they sent a werebeast disguised as a traveller to stop them. When they killed the werebeast, they sent Abominations from the great beneath to stop them. When they killed the abominations, they tricked them into unleashing the powers below before they were ready. And even then, when every Dwarf was killed and almost all hope was gone, the All-Father sent his mutated servant to cleanse the place. The Mutant's crusade did unimaginable damage, but they will try again, it will not go wrong this time, they will have help this time. I'm so glad I could help.
I've been writing in this journal a lot less these days. There's not much to write about.
Lots of stairs.
Lava. So, so much lava. I can still see it when I close my eyes.
The tunnels keep going. The caves keep going.
More dice.
One foot in front of the other. Time is blending together. I feel like I've been down here since the dawn of time.
People fighting, people yelling, people screaming.
I'm so tired.
I almost took the empty road. The empty road would be bad.
I remember this place.
I'm nearly there. Nearly there.
They have one more task for me. I can go no further in my current form, and they can go no further in their current forms. I will sleep, and they will be freed.
I'm there.

[Imic]

Epilogue

On the second of Malachite, in the year 735, a Dwarf entered the Museum at the Castle of Boltspumpkin. Word travels quickly, and the rumour of the insane Dwarf wandering the deep roads babbling to himself and collecting divination dice had long since reached Boltspumpkin. This Dwarf matched the description perfectly, a Walled Dye Dwarf clad in copper armour with bronze eyes and braided hair. This Dwarf, however, was not a raving lunatic, he spoke quite politely, he smiled widely, and when pressed wouldn't say a thing about where he'd come from. Onto a pedestal of the Museum, he then proceeded to place exactly fourty divination dice, presenting them to the museum as they were "No longer necessary" to keep on his person. When he went to leave, he would only say that he was going to visit a friend in Mosshill to the south. He was never seen again by any Dwarf of the north or the south, and it looked as though he had disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, until his journal was delivered to the museum by a settler of the Old Kingdom who found it in the caverns beneath the Fortress of Pastimegears. It was placed with all the journals of those who had lived and died in pursuit of a piece worthy of the Museum.


This is my piece for the museum, 40 divination dice gathered over almost a month in-game. Is it a good piece? Was the story good enough? I don't know, but here it is.



It is also, coincidentally, the exact 40th image I have taken for this Succession game. But yeah, I'm sorry if this was a disappointing story where not much happened, but it is what it is.

[Quantum Drop]

That was really good, Imic!

[Eric Blank]

It was interesting, if not only for the crazy speak, but for the views of the underground you could have slain a great beast, though!

[Imic]

Here's the save. I have done nothing but play on the Forts I founded since more or less the minute I got the save, so the date has jumped forward by quite a bit.
I'm sorry for taking so long with this, I wasn't keeping track of time. I'd also like to apologise for apologising so much, and for being so self depricating in my posts, it must be getting annoying at this point, I'm going to try and not do that in the future, but beating myself down is basically muscle memory to me at this point.

And, of course, I would like to humbly request another spot on the turn list.

[Glloyd]

I don't think there's anything to apologize for, it's been a week since you picked up the save, it's all good. What year is it now?

[Imic]

It’s 746, 11 years have passed since I started.