Autumn and Winter 1053, in which the Barony of Alegate delves deeper.

The Sea of Magma

Iden, master miner, stood gazing across the magma sea. Pillars of god-metal, hidden from mortal eyes since the creation of the world, rose from the liquid stone. Fire snakes swam on the surface of the red sea. Magma crabs scuttled in and out of pools of gold on the shores. Iden knew stone as well as any dwarf, and he knew that he would only have one more moment to gaze across the sea.

The miners had worked in shifts to dig deep in search of coal. The miners knew the earth well enough that none of them expected to find coal beneath the sedimentary limestone near the surface. The bones of the mountain told a story of volcanism. Most of it had been igneous intrusive — ancient stone that had been heated to tremendous temperatures, and then cooled slowly inside the kiln of earth. No coal would be found in that stone.

Nevertheless, the miners were content to keep exploring the wonders of the mountain. They had found a thick layer of marble, metamorphosed by the heat to a beautiful milky color. Gold had melted into recesses when the stone was hot, then frozen into shapes like tentacled beasts. There were deposits of other exotic metals, too. Iden had personally discovered cassiterite, his favorite ore.

They had peered into the great caverns, which were parts of the underground wilderness that crossed the world. Inside they had witnessed a battle between a giant bat and a giant toad. They had seen giant mushrooms, which could be harvested for wood if the dangers of the caverns were ever preferable to the dangers of the surface.

Iden had lived a hundred and nineteen years, and fathered seventeen children. Only his youngest son had come with him to Alegate. The boy was now playing make believe far above. Iden had created a quern of legendary quality for the surgeon’s garden, and seen his brother, the master blacksmith, create a legendary flood gate.

Iden was an expert miner, and when he felt the warm rock beneath him, he knew what was on the other side. He had stopped descending, and begun to dig a lateral chamber that he thought would be just above the magma sea. He did not realize that he had actually mined down into a massive stalagtite that hung from the roof of the magma sea, and pierced down into the sea’s depths. When Iden dug sideways, he knocked out a boulder on the side of the stalagmite. That boulder fell into the magma sea, and Iden found himself looking out across the top of the magma. But the stone on which he stood was lower than the sea’s surface, and there was no way he would make it back up the tunnel before this chamber filled with magma.

Iden took his last moments to reflect upon all he had seen, all he had accomplished, and the works he left behind. He locked his eyes upon the god-metal. He knew that in a moment, he would be absorbed by the incoming wave of lava, and would become part of the mountain.

Festival at the Drowned Langur

“They say the sea of magma was laid down by the gods,” the poet said, “to keep the evil below out of our world. When the evil found ways through the magma, the gods sealed the passages with adamantine. The demons can’t get through the god-metal. No one but dwarves can mine it. Only we have ever figured out how to work it.”

The tavern was crowded. At Chief Medical Dwarf Fark’s order, Alegate made the first week of every month a festival. On the first of every month, all those who did not have immediate military duty flooded out of their workshops, and headed to the tavern. They would joyously drink Mayor’s Brew, respectfully drink Baron’s Wine, solemnly toast with Hero’s Stout, or sample Alegate gardens’ vast variety of brewed and distilled beverages. The festivals allowed the citizenry to enjoy friends and family, and so be more ready to focus on work between festivals.

“Adamantine is harder than steel, and light as cork. It is perfect for armor, and so fine that even clothes can be woven with it. And imagine the weapons it can make!”

Commander Meng grunted. “A fine sword or spear, certainly. But swinging a mace like that would be like beating your foe with a wine skin full of air.”

Meng’s wife added, “We’d have to be careful, if the stories are true about what’s under those adamantine pillars. Maybe if we just chipped some pieces off the outside it would be okay.”

The poet shrugged, her eyes gleaming. “We’ll see if the council orders the god-ore dug. We may yet see adamantine pulled up from our mines!”

Ripples from the Magma

The New Hospital

Chief Medical Dwarf Fark stood in his new hospital. It was in the white-stone delvings, away from the moisture and colorful funguses that grew in the clay delvings.

His new hospital was far grander than his first hospital. The new one had six private bedrooms for patients, and three private traction rooms for those who had complex fractures. There were two chests full of supplies, two operating tables (not that Fark could use both, but still a nice touch,) and across the hall was a fine well. The cistern beneath had been filled with clean water by bucket brigade, and the legendary-quality mechanism on top featured a fine engraving of the founding of Alegate. Any dwarf who used that well would walk away proud.

Much of the furniture had been made by Fark himself, using his budding carpentry skills. That included the solid wooden doors. If, gods forbid, another patient needs to be quarantined, one room could be sealed off instead of walling in the entire hospital.

The Old Hospital

Atîs, the werebison, had found some peace. Every full moon, she would rampage and throw around the furniture and supplies that had been abandoned in the old hospital. The rest of the time, she devoted herself to prayer. Atîs, it turned out, was a profoundly religious dwarf. Her prior work as a soldier kept her too busy to spend much time praying. Now, locked in the old hospital, and no longer needing food or drink, she had a great deal of time for prayer. She found contentment in that.

But Fark still hadn’t seen fit to ask for his old furniture back.

Carpentry

Everything had changed when the magma sea was discovered. A chamber had been hollowed out in the warm stone just above the magma sea. The smiths and smelters had found a way to harness the heat from the lava sea, and no longer needed charcoal for fuel. They had moved all their equipment from the upper levels and hauled them down to their new, deep, work shops.

This meant it was no longer necessary to keep a large team of dwarves burning wood down into charcoal. It also meant there were vacant work areas that could be turned into a wood shop. The carpenters did so, and started producing beds, cabinets, and chests for the citizens. The plan was to dig small private spaces for each citizen or family in the glittering quartzite beneath the limestone delvings.

This also benefitted the masons, who no longer needed to spend time shaping furniture from stone, and could focus on other tasks.

Outside festivals, Fark spent the entire autumn and much of winter shaping furniture. He found satisfaction in that work. He spent the last part of winter at The Gray Langur. He made a couple friends during that time (Thob the bard and Dumed the poet.) But by spring, he found himself wanting to do craftwork again.

A Mayor’s Work is Never Done

Mayor Argus rarely had time to finish carving a bone or shell before he had to make the long walk back to his audience chamber for some new meeting. Good thing he wasn’t the only bone carver around. Everyone wanted to wear Alegate’s trademark bone jewelry. For example, just looking around at the two nearest council members:

• Thornbeard wore a langur bone amulet and bracelet, and a turkey bone ring and bracelet.
• Maltose was sporting two langur bracelets, a turkey bracelet, a langur ring, a dingo ring and a crown made of dingo bone.

Argus had to admit that his work was good. And some times it was very topical:

There were the annual visits from the Queen’s representative, for example. Usually they made trade agreements and discussed news from the mountainhome. This time, Argus had told the representative that Alegate wanted to buy a great deal of coal when the caravan returned in the autumn. Of course, that was before the smiths had all announced they didn’t need fuel any more and carried all their anvils down to the magma. When next autumn comes around, there is going to be an awkward conversation with the merchants who hauled wagon loads of rock all the way from the mountainhome.

He might buy all that coal any way, and have furniture made of it or something. The fortress was producing plenty to trade, now. This time around, he had bought every dog the merchants had with them. Alegate’s scouts loved having war dogs along, and between frequent litters and the purchased dogs, almost all the scouts had them now.

There are always visitors to meet, too. Often some poet, bard, or soldier would request an audience, and petition for work at the fortress. Commander Meng said his squads were filling up, and that he only wanted soldiers who were already trained archers, or were goblins or humans for the foreign squad. Argus was turning away most mercenaries now.

The tavern was full of performers, too. Argus was saying “no” to performer petitions, now, unless one of the council members who spent most of their time supervising The Drowned Langur had a special liking for them.

There was one swordgoblin merc who picked a fight with a glazer, and who was promptly beat down by said glazer and a nearby charcoal maker. That mercenary did not ask for long-term work.

Finally, there was that temple to the fortress goddess. Argus’ request had been simple: have Alegate’s finest statue-maker forge a gold statue for the fortress goddess temple, and make a temple near the fortress entrance to greet our guests.

There was a communication problem somewhere. The first statue had been some elf at the moment the goddess cursed her. So Argus told the furniture installers to put it off to the side of the temple, and ask for something better for as a centerpiece. The next statue was some goblin at the moment the goddess cursed her. Argus’ response was the same. After getting ten statues of screaming, pleading, horrified curse victims, the walls were filling up. Argus finally asked very specifically for what he wanted, and the statue of the goddess was finally made.

Now whenever someone new comes to the fort, the first thing they see is Lål the Shell of Nourishing, surrounded by masterful and very expensive statues demonstrating what happens to those who offend her.

The Brew Baron

Maltose is doing quite well. He spends most of his time at the Gray Langur, surrounded by a growing group of close friends. That group now includes Logem the bard.

When Alegate was declared a barony, Maltose was elevated to the nobility of the Granite Abbey. As is proper for such a figure, a suite is being dug out for him, complete with a private brewing station.

Maltose’s recommendations had borne fruit. The dwarven troops now trained above ground, and the fort’s fuel crisis had been solved. The indirect result of all this was that the plant-festooned clay delvings were emptying out, and most Alegate business was handled down in the solid stone.

The military was almost completely equipped with copper armor. Now that the magma forges in the deep delvings were firing up, the large amounts of fuel needed to forge steel was no longer an issue. Soon properly dwarfy steel armor would be produced rapidly to replace the copper.

The honey was not yet ready for the special romantic mead, but the hives were humming. There may have been an error at some point, where honeycombs were harvested and immediately used in the kitchens. Still, it was only a matter of time before the mead was brewed.

Musings of the Hunter

Thornbeard leaned back in his library seat and stretched. He had been engrossed in a scroll purchased from traders, titled “A Humble Offering To The Mountainhome.”

Around him were a handful of dwarves who felt the need for contemplation. The temples and Drowned Langur always had more people in them than this place, but there were always people here, in the growing collection of imported writings.

Thornbeard got up and stepped out into the hall. His scarred-but-loyal hounds rose from under the library table and following him. They had not hunted in a while, and had adapted to their life of tavern, temple and library. There was a great abundance of food in the fort. Between the full chicken coop, the bounty of fish from the river, the aggressive langurs periodically offering their own meat for the cooks, and the exotic foods bought from traders, there was little need for hunting.

Thornbeard saw the fortress’ latest legendary item being carried to a storage room — an alpaca leather shield decorated to a breathtaking degree. Alegate was big enough that great inspiration struck someone about once per season. This time, it had inspired a dwarf to make a shield featuring a dwarf being killed by the dragon, as well as some other images. A strange choice for shield-art, but inspiration is as inspiration does.

There were also haulers descending the lead stairs with forge-supplies. They carried ingots of metal, chunks of ore, bags of charcoal, and boulders of flux. It was a long way down to the lava sea, and there would be a great deal of hauling to get materials down there, and products back here. But the smiths seemed happy about it.

Game Notes

• The three council members who make a point of being in the tavern — Thornbeard, Maltose and Fark — are continuing to accumulate friends and friendly relations. Fark spent 4 of the last 6 months working, and still managed to accumulate two new friends. It is not clear if the festivals are helping, but it almost guarantees that these three meet all the citizens — even the ones who would otherwise be spending all their time away from the tavern.
• Excluding Ecroh the Goblin bard from the calculations, all 4 performers who have befriended the Tavern Triumvirate who are female dwarves. However, dwarves will only get romantically interested in dwarves who have never been in a relationship, and who are within 10 years of age. That 10 year limit is difficult in a race that can live for 170 years … in the case of the four performers, none are close enough in age for a romantic relationship, and 2 have been married. I’ll keep an eye on this (I have a spreadsheet!) I’m hoping that there are relationships that have been building slowly (maybe faster now with festivals) that will advance to the “friend” level or beyond. But finding a mate is not guaranteed. Dwarves are stubborn that way.
• There are three council members who are not pursuing relationships — Argus, Escott and Hana. These three are behind (but not far behind) in “friendly relations” count. These three have not made any new friends yet. So spending time in the tavern does seem to pay off socially, even if it’s not a way to become a legendary craftsdwarf.

Turn Wrap-Up

Character sheets and fortress status:

Maps, with new things labelled. Caverns discovered on previous turns are excluded.