Progress on the starting dorms is well underway, booze is being brewed and barrels are overflowing with food. Aside from the odd Gnoll hit and runs, there’s not much to talk about.
After this exciting act of mass murder, I continue the otherwise normal running of a day to day fortress and a few months pass whenever all of a sudden : WELL, BY MY BEARD! This is an early siege, I don’t even have the first drawbridge erected. I quickly command the entrance to be sealed whilst I check the number of the enemy forces.
They number just over 30, and with them comes a necromancer and pyromancer. As my dwarfs are
fleeing tactically retreating a fireball lands beside the woodcutter who is stunned by the blast just before an elf grabs them and promptly murders them in cold blood.
The first death, and certainly not the last.
The Dwarfs attempt to seal the entrance, but alas they were too slow! The undead are upon them and have now gotten through the front gate
There is an orgy of violence breaking out inside of the fortress, my loyal dwarfs are squabbling and tumbling away from the undead as some of them are taken down by their previous furry friends DECAPITATED HEADS. I make a final attempt to seal the dwarfs into the agriculture quarter, but to no avail. The petrified dwarfs are too afraid to gather the stone required for the wall, not aware that by doing so they are surely zombie food. The fires that previously broke out from the fireball earlier mentioned is beginning to envelop the inner tunnels of my fortress. The military dwarf and most of his war hounds died trying to slow down the horde but with every death, comes another enemy (Even some of the former native gnoll population!)
After the mass murder inflicted upon my fortress there are few left, most of them are scattered out on the ash covered fields where they are eventually chased down by the faster, untiring and very,very dead dogs before quickly being torn to pieces. I look through the battle reports to see if there was any acts of great bravery shown by my dwarfs to make them the worthy dead of Bearshielded:
The pyromancer was slain! By.. the flying body of an unconscious dwarf, I knew all that extra weight would come in handy someday! The last dwarf is a hunter, left with the bodies of his peers and the screams of his dying companions in the fields above he is in the tunnels that smell of death and decay where he decides to take the golden axe from one of his dead brethren, and valiantly face the undead horde.
He storms towards an undead elf, interrupted by a dog head which he promptly beheads(?) before the elf punches him in the gut and then upper cuts him in the head, instantly shattering his brains with it’s cold bony fist.
As shown above, the world of Dwarf Fortress is not one that is easily hospitable. For our next fort will I have to choose somewhere perhaps a little less fun?
All hail the might of Bearshielded