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QC Forums Dwarf Fortress Succession game.
KharBevNor:
As far as I know, in the current version of dwarf fortress you will always be able to hit magma on any map: the entire world is underlaid by the magma sea, which corresponds to the mohorovicic discontinuity in the real world. According to the DF wiki:
The Magma sea is a large, multi-level 'sea' of magma that expands across the entire world. These can typically be found by around Z level -120 (though this seems to vary wildly (minimum -5 maximum -450 z level)Verify. The magma sea is always found below the last Cavern level.
Source: http://df.magmawiki.com/index.php/Magma_sea#ixzz0xpIlpwqF
I have embarked. Our fortress is named Gorgeconfined. My Dwarf has INCREDIBLE MUSCLES. Proper update in a bit.
KharBevNor:
THE CHRONICLES OF GORGECONFINED
Chapter 1: Under the Cursed Sky
Journal of 'KharBevNor' LashedGills, expedition leader.
They called me mad, in the Mountainhomes. But I have proved them right, oh, how I have proved them. For my visions were true.
Let me explain.
I have been, all my life, an ardent worshipper of Vush, goddess of Fire, Earth and Volcanoes. May Her Fires Ever Burn With The Flesh Of Goblin Heretics! Vush has seen fit to bless me with many visions, often whilst I conduct the most sacred ritual of her cult (The Ceremony of the Consuming of the Three Barrels of Swamp Whiskey). Six months ago, she granted me a most terrible vision! Armok himself, the ancient god of blood, had become displeased at Dwarfkind. Too long had we traded with elves and walked above the ground in the horrible light of the sun. We had forgotten what truly made us Dwarven. Vush (MHFEBWTFOGH) told me that the fire under the earth would rise up under the mountainhomes, and fire would descend from the sky, and all would be destroyed. Only seven dwarves would be saved, an echo of the seven that founded the great mountainhomes in long ages past. We would go far away from the Mountainhomes, and only we would be saved. The end would come on New Years day, the first of Granite 1052. In further visions, I was given the identity of the six that would accompany, as well as mystical names for each of them and myself in some long dead tongue known only to the gods.
First, my good self, a fine handsome figure of a dwarf:
Next, David Dovey. A good dwarf, though I have heard disturbing rumours of his fetish for crutches. His skill with wood is legendary.
Third, Scandinavian War Machine. His occasional impiety disquiets me, but his tireless drive with the pick will serve us well
Danosaur, unassuming fisherdwarf and collector of toy boats. There shall be little time for his hobby if we are to survive the wrath of Armok.
Jeans is what the Doctors call 'Oretistic'. He's not much to talk to, unless you get him on to the subject of one of his odd obsessions. I never knew there was more to the matter of Ballista Bolts than putting them the right way round.
Alex C, our doctor and, if I do say, something of a badass.
And finally, Boro_Bandito, the only dwarfess among our group. Truly, Armok expects great things of her loins.
After many months perilous journey across the Tiring Mountains (aptly named) I see by my sundial that it is only one year until the Armokalypse. We can go no further. Below us spread the Hardy Swamps. We will not find much solid rock past this point. I name our new refuge Gorgeconfined, for surely the stones will embrace us.
STRIKE THE EARTH!
1st Granite 1051
Our first task is to get out from under the Cursed Sky. I order Scandinavian War Machine to start digging.
"Where?" he asks.
"Straight down!"
Shrugging, he swings his pick. Soon he has dissapeared down the hole he is digging, carving crude steps as he goes.
"Don't stop till you strike solid rock!"
I tell the other Dwarves to gather whatever plants and trees they can from the surface before we descend into the comforting embrace of the Earth forevermore. We will need a smattering of supplies to establish our new fortress.
"Jeans, go gather up any berries and grasses you can find!"
"Um...er...no...I'm a fisherdwarf"
He wanders off towards the river, but soon, Armok sends him a sign. A buzzard shaped one! He runs back towards the wagon, a wet patch between his legs. Suddenly, one of the dogs who for some reason accompanied us leapt a clear twenty feet in the air and tore the buzzard in two! Merciful Vush!
(MHFEBWTFOGH)
3rd Granite
Chaos reigns! The dog, having tasted buzzardblood, is insatiable. Armok surely possesses it. It leaps across the face of the mountain, tearing buzzards out of the sky.
Dwarves run panicking from the rain of buzzardparts as they frantically try to deconstruct the wagon and place wood and food in two temporary stockpiles I have designated next to the hole in the ground, from which a constant stream of earth and faint swearing emanates. A buzzard swoops for Boro_Bandito, who lets out a mighty yell and dodges the swoop at the last second with astonishing agility. Unfortunately, she dodges straight into a tree and is knocked unconscious. The buzzard lets out a caw of victory.
Then the dog tears its legs off.
11th Granite
"Danosaur, I need you to set up a carpentry workshop so we might have beds when the construction is finished below"
"But sir, I'm a fisherdwarf, I don't know anything about carpentry! I'm a great fisher though, so..."
"Look, I didn't think this would be necessary, but there is something I have to show you"
I took a worn scroll from my pocket.
"Before we left The Worshipful Corridors I purchased a map of this wilderness. We are here, and that stream there is the Abated Union. What do you see?"
He is not a fast reader, and it was a good ten seconds before his skin went pale. Emblazoned across the map, the words that haunt the nightmares of every fisherdwarf.
HERE BE CARP
Work on the new beds progresses swiftly, now he has mastered which way round to hold the chisel. Work is progressing well below also. We have started on the first temporary accomodations, and I have picked up a pick myself to help the work. We must get out from under this sky!
15th Granite
Yesterday, a buzzard stole some of our plump helmets (why?). Today it came again. It did not get very far.
Jeans put down his consignment of berries, then nonchalantly walked over, picked up the remains of the buzzard and put it on our foodpile. We dine well tonight!
28th Granite
It has begun to rain! Armoks wrath is upon us! FEAR THE SKY!
I order the food and wood moved to the new stockpiles underground, and the carpenters shop on the surface dismantled. We have enough beds now to equip a small temporary dormitory. Boro_bandito once worked with precious gems, but now she works with baser rock, carving tables and chairs for our dining hall.
16th Slate
Will these rains never end? Nothing is above ground now but a growing pile of refuse. Buzzard blood washes from the mountainside and swills around the bones.
28th slate
With the end of our second month comes the end of the first phase of construction. I have concentrated on moving the bare essentials of life down into our meagre quarters. Over the next few months we shall expand and improve our quarters, improve our industries, and begin the construction of defences agaiinst the vile beasts that shall surely stalk the earth once the Armokalypse is upon us. Danosaur, who took a course in technical draughtdwarfship at the undercollege, has drawn these fine diagram of the current status of Gorgeconfined. First, the nascent industrial area:
and, a way below it, our meagre living quarters:
Humble beginnings, but from such humbleness great things may come, if we but put our trust in Vush (MHFEBWTFOGH). We have safe quarters, and we have defeated the first challenge of the Cursed Sky:
I order celebrations. Jeans has been putting his careful skill with the dissection of fish to new ends. He takes the bridle of the horse that drew our wagons across these mountains. Sadness comes across some faces, for we travelled far with it. I was wise not to give it a name. It becomes skittish slightly as he leads it away into a back room...
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!
the_pied_piper:
I have no idea how to play this and would probably be woefully inept so if someone lets my hamfists command the armed guards that would be much better.
Scandanavian War Machine:
helluva start
go, stray dog, go
Buttfranklin:
I'll take a dwarf! Mostly on account of how great of a dwarf name Buttfranklin would be.
Looking forward to reading more updates! :{D
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