SPINEMACHINE - Initial findings

It is Mid-summer on the 1st of Malachite, 1051.

The reign of the previous ruler of Spinemachine (henceforth to be known simply as "The Machine", or "Ol' Spiney") has been cut short, due I presume to a painful bout of Ocular Herpes Simplex. Though this is pure speculation, I think it reminds all of us that, like the sun, you shouldn't ever stare directly into a hobo's anus.

So the succession has been passed prematurely down to me, and with it an apparent food crisis. Am I ready to lead these dwarves into the black? To pull them back from the brink of starvation? I have only stepped into the fortress for a few minutes when the sight of anorexic dwarves makes me physically sick, all over myself. I make a promise to myself right then and there that I shall make it my personal quest to fatten these wretches up, and restore their beards to their once glorious sheen.

I begin looking around..

What must a desperate dwarf eat to survive in the Factional Forest? Perhaps the mythical Satinybursts the Tufts of Breakfast truly is made of liquid bacon and scrambled eggs .. Or perhaps we must dine on the abundance of half-finished furniture and crafts left strewn around the dining room:

Also of note are the creative mining plans left for the sub-basement of the fortress:


I can only assume that this is part of the aforementioned water irrigation system, so I shall endeavor to preserve this work for future generations, as our forefathers intended.

But this will all have to wait for now. Food must be found, perhaps we might create a giant underground straw to the neighboring civilizations so as to Drink Their Milkshake.

To be continued..