User:RomeoFalling

Carving an empire out of Sand and Cat Bone

My current load-out, inspired by finding a nice thickly-forested, heavily populated space of Black Sand with a magma pipe in it, and then discovering that the randomly-chosen name for the group was The Infamous Cat-Sacks.

Clearly, I've been playing for far too long.

The Dwarves

1. The Guy With The Bright Idea

• Novice Miner
• Novice Judge of Intent
• Novice Appraisal
• Competent Consoler
• Skilled Pacifier

Since the top couple of layers are sand, anyway, he'll have plenty of time to level up in his actual trade skill. Ideally, he ought to be proficient in Persuader, but then I thought to myself, "No, that's going too far."

2. Cat-Into-Sack Stuffer

• Novice Butcher
• Novice Tanner
• Proficient Leatherworker
• Competent Mechanics

Hey, he can't kill cats all the time. He also spends a lot of time devising cruel torture implements and death traps. Uh.....why do we want him along, again? Oh yeah, he's the whole reason we're The Infamous Cat-Sacks.

3. Three Words: Cat Bone Armor

• Proficient Bone Carver
• Skilled Stonecrafter
• Novice Record Keeper

Need I say any more?

4. Not The Weaponsmith You Were Looking For

• Competent Bowyer
• Average Glassmaker
• Average Cook
• Novice Wood Burner
• Novice Organizer

Despite magma somewhere on the map, I trade a point of Bowyer for Wood Burner, for the early game. He's an essential part of my plans for an army of cat-bone clad marksdwarves armed with cat bone crossbows, shooting cat bone bolts at our enemies! He also makes a pretty nice cat meat biscuit.

5. Outdoor Dwarf

• Novice Wood Cutter
• Proficient Carpenter
• Novice Herbalism
• Novice Hunter
• Novice Axe
• Novice Armor

He still thinks we're just going camping for the weekend. Don't tell him!

6. Farmer

• Proficient Grower
• Competent Brewer
• Novice Miller
• Novice Thresher

Because you can't make beer out of cats. Yet.

7. Chief Architect

• Proficient Mason
• Proficient Architect

I figure this is somebody's kid brother. Maybe I'll call him Junior.

Their Stuff

• 4 Copper Picks
• 1 Steel Axe
• 2 War Dogs
• 1 pig tail rope (for the sentry cat)
• 1 Lead cage (for the rest of the cats)
• 41 units each of the 4 kinds of alcohol
• 43 Seeds of Plump Helmet and Pig Tail
• 29 Seeds of the others
• 11 turtles still in their shell
• 1 each of all the food we can get

Which should leave us enough for nearly 40 cats! If we end up with anything left over, we can spend it on cat leather, cat meat, or seeds.

Vaboksholid, The Clutched Orb

Warning: Heavy Artistic License

First, I should admit that the above Embark Profile is not the one I'm using. Rather, the Sand and Bone profile is a modification based on my current game. I was given a group named The Infamous Cat Sacks, but at the time I was way too literal, and just bought a bunch of cat leather bags. This way is much more fun, and probably a more intelligent plan in the end.

Also, my current fortress is not named The Clutched Orb. Vaboksholid is actually Orbclutched. But this one sounds better. Neither name is the one in the computer files, which is calling my home Ushilducim, or Iceworks. But in the journal, I'm calling it Vaboksholid, which is the randomly generated name I got while streamlining the Sand and Bone embark profile, and rings quite nicely with events already in progress.

Since I'm using so much artistic license already, I figure I should come clean and invite anyone still reading this to join me for the fun. If any named character in these journals strikes some kind of resemblance to someone from your games that you remember, chime in on my talk page and we'll figure out if we can link the two together somehow. Or just shout out suggestions.

Maybe this kind of cross-pollination will encourage me to play the game past my first goblin ambush, which is where I keep stopping in the four or five weeks that I've been playing so far.

--RomeoFalling 00:21, 8 November 2008 (EST)

1st Hematite, 204 Early Summer

Reloading from an earlier savepoint.

I awoke from a nightmare like none I had ever known. I can only call it a prophetic vision of blood and death. I realized then that I, Edzul Cryptpaddles, called The Old Cat-Sack Himself, having been leading my fortress to its certain ruin.

I shuddered again at the dream-memory of 'Gutgear' Standardbrush fleeing from the carnage only to fall into the river north of us, eaten by carp while he drowned. Ast Blockpaged on her knees, wailing over the goblin-mangled corpse of her baby as Vobuksholid fell around her. The human caravan guard falling one after the other off the bridge and into our empty moat. These things had not yet come to pass, but surely would if I did not change my ways, and soon.

I lingered for a moment over the real tragedies which had befallen Vobuksholid in the three years since its founding. The poor unloved kitten who pounced on a fire snake and perished in flames for his curiosity. The horrible sparring accident which took the lives of our first two militia men, just as Eral was telling them that obsidian makes a surprisingly sharp sword.

But nothing was worse than the bear that snuck into our larder during the second year, and tore out half Nomal Atrildok's throat before he felled the beast. Nomal lived, but the accident had disillusioned Nil, the outdoorsdwarf who had first led us through the wilderness and to our new home. He'd thought we were just going camping. Now it dawned on him that we were responsible for the lives of others, and I suppose that was what prompted him to try to wrestle a two-humped camel bare-handed.

There had been such promise in those early days! So many reasons to hope. The elves had heard of The Infamous Cat-Sacks, and on their first visit brought a Giant Jaguar for us to admire. We took that beast in, and chained him at the front gate for all to see our glory.

Then, too, came Vabok Vabokotung, son of Vabok (I believe his name translates to Orb Orbshock). Though he claimed to be little more than a Hardbodied pump operator, he brought with him many strange ideas which seemed so wise. I'd ordered the "gym," as he called it, built, but never let any of my dwarves actually use it.

I'd started so many projects, and none of them yet finished. My inability to focus will be our doom if I do not change my ways. For the prophecy I'd seen had told me without question that goblins will come. I have but one season to stop my idle ways and act like a real Mayor. I have but one season to save the 50 dwarves under my command from my own folly.

Enough with this melancholy nostalgia! I shall put a halt to everything, and reconsider our situation anew.

21st Malachite, 204 Mid-Summer

As it came from prophecy, I let it begin with prophecy. I unchained the giant feline from our front gate, and the whole village turned out to see what he would do.

I should have known the great beast would pick one of our farmers. The farmers are the only ones in the entire village who like having living cats. In fact, they're pretty much the only ones who have any pets at all.

Kadol Sabrefainted had come to us as a thresher of pig tails, who had never seen the fires of war. But when he looked into that great cat's eyes, he heard the call. The call of Vabok, son of Vabok, who put a fine coat of catskin armor on this dwarf who had never done anything more violent than grind flour, and though I was pained to lose one of our most skilled farmers to the military, I knew it had to be so.

He and Vabok Vabokson joined out military together, and spent many hours sparring amidst the masons hard at work plugging up the holes in our defenses. Vabok has been pressing me hard to equip the soldiers with our supply of obsidian swords, but the things are just too deadly to train with. I haven't let anyone touch them since that first sparring incident.

We were arguing over the trap arrangements for the Corridor of Death when the human caravan arrived. Gutgear left the details to his young apprentice, Litast, and went back to procuring more bones for our catbow bolts.

Litast went to work designing the traps, so engrossed in her task that the caravan practically ran her over.

Unfortunately, the goblin ambush squad did roll right over her, just as she was building a trap meant for them.

Thankfully, Vabok Son of Vabok was there to close the breach. He waded into the goblin scum wielding a masterwork obsidian sword, and took out three of them in one blow. The remaining goblin shrieked in terror, turned to run, and stepped right onto one of Litast's traps.

It's funny, really. One of the few complaints Gutgear ever had about Litast was that she was too much of a pacifist. She hated traps that killed. She preferred cage traps.

This is not a flaw I share with her. I've had a few conversations with her family. They don't seem to have a problem with any of my plans. In fact, you could say it downright cheered them up.

So we've work to do, and I'm starting to think this new red ink still smears a little too much for my tastes. We need an alchemist to keep it from clotting.

23rd Malachite, 204 Mid Summer

We threw a party to celebrate the victory of Vabok Vabokson and his squad against the goblins. We even invited the human merchants from the Blue Unions. At one point, Gutgear and I were discussing art with the merchants. Gutgear commented that the same human has been depicted on some of the items which they've sold us: he appears on a rope reed, etched with giant leopard bone, on a zinc cage in native platinum, and even graces a finely decorated barrel of whip wine. The barrel particularly intrigued us, as it was wrought with steel spikes, bands of cat bone, and the image of this same human in cat leather.

"Ah, you mean Ted Dresssound," the merchants told us. "Famed in many lands he is, and his image is carved in many places."

They then began to tell us his tale: who his parents were, the name of the woman he married, the brief period he spent as a guard of The Band of Tunneling, his time with The Rapid Cult, how he moved to Puzzledsport and became a guard there, only to move to Passaura and become a shopkeeper, finally to have spent the last decade as a diplomat for the Blue Unions.

After a pause, Gutgear asked curiously, "And what of his deeds? His glories? From where has he earned such honor as to grace the finest casks of whip wine to be exported from your country?"

The merchants just stared at us blankly. "Well, he's been living in Passaura for a while now."

Another pause, which I filled with the only question I could think of. "Ah, yes, of course. Remind me, where is Passuara again?"

"Oh, just upriver from here about three days journey northeast."

"We have been thinking of renaming the river in honor of Vabok Vabokson. Tell me, what do you think of the idea?"

The merchants appeared horrified, "Why would you wish to rename Bedscorched The Nasty Child?"

I shall never understand humans.