Joinedspider

Goblin Fortress

A recent fad on /tg/ has been to take Dwarf Fortress and edit the raw files to play as a goblin civilization. Simple enough, but the editing doesn't stop there; since goblins do not die of old age, they are one of the few races that can be set to be all [FEMALE] without simply dying out at world generation. This inevitably lead to the idea of lesbian goblin forts, kidnapping the males of other species and chaining them up in their underground sex-forts. Further editing ensued, so that goblin forts the world over began churning out "- Kobold Leather Strap-ons -" and all kinds of other unwholesome toys. Writefaggotry was requested and delivered, in the form of a sort of twisted succession game-log, from the point of view of naive goblin Mechanic Snodub Joinspider. After a number of requests for MOAR, 1d4chan was recommended as a place to archive the story while it continued. What follows is the story so far in it's entirety, from beginning to the latest post, two days after the initial idea. Note that this is copied straight from the original text file, and as such will not have any minor edits that I caught or otherwise decided to change while posting. With that said, enjoy!

The log of Joinedspider

1st Granite, 201

This is the personal log of Snodub Joinspider, High-Mechanic of the Poisons of Smut. I keep this log as I hope it will assist me in keeping my sanity, as surrounded as I am by fools and infidels. My Metalsmith friend Nguslu Jackalincests convinced me to join this slaving expedition and I already regret it. Our leader, the great Ber Dungeonbait, has decreed our new civilization will be known as "The Awe-Inspiring Seduction". She is a moron. I hate her. Also, every time she goes past, I hear a strange ticking noise as though she were made of clockwork. I hate her. There are five other goblins with us, including Ber. I hate them all too. The only thing that has kept me sane through the journey so far is our supply of slaves. The Elves especially still cling to some shred of dignity, while the kobolds are nothing but desperate, cringing sex-slaves at this point. They have been most entertaining, but now we have arrived in this forbidding place we have turned them loose from their filthy cages. The smell was beginning to become unbearable, and where could they run to now, after all? Dungeonbait is bawling her orders at us already, so I must go. I will hide this log, as the others would only mock me for it.

20th Granite, 201

Life has been so hectic that I had forgotten about this journal entirely. This land is truly forbidding, as no sooner had we arrived than a great storm blew in and drenched us all for three days straight. I must admit it was amusing seeing the elves snivel and cry as they huddled together, but it was considerably less funny seeing as it was happening to me too. Still, incompetent moron though she is, Dungeonbait is a formidable taskmaster: The workshops are dug and built and the barracks is soon to follow. Hatedthralls, our so-called craftsgoblin, is already churning out her simplistic creations; I hope they finish the slave-quarters soon, as I long for the company of my precious kobolds. Stupid and animalistic though they may be, there is something about them.. During the storm they said and did nothing, simply sitting and waiting out the floods. I find that.. Inspiring, somehow. Whether this is because of stoicism or dull wit is another matter. I must go; the workshop that I am to call my own is ready, and I must begin work on our traps: I hear the others have spotted Lizardmen in a great pool nearby. Paranoia is a virtue.

12 Slate, 201

Finally, we have a proper hole to hide in. The storerooms are complete, food and wood stocks settled. Our barracks is complete and the others are sleeping.. Some of them with each other. I can't believe it took me this long to realise Hatedthralls swung that way, but Dungeonbait seems to have leapt at the opportunity and is currently 'enforcing justice' on her with the help of one of Hatedthralls 'toys'. Apparently Ber is the dominant type. Their incessant squealing and Dungeonbait's abusive tongue have driven me from the barracks, so I have taken refuge in the crafting hall. I do not know how the others can sleep through such a display. Exhaustion takes me; my hands can no longer keep up and create the intricate mechanisms we need. I hear the noise of the others moving around anyway. I will brave the barracks again. Hopefully Hatedthralls and Dungeonbait will have finished 'expressing their love' by now.

22nd Felsite, 201

A reprieval! Finally, I can breathe a sigh of relief. Dungeonbait's appetites have grown ever more rapacious, and Hatedthralls has become her willing companion. They go everywhere together, and have lately turned their attention to the rest of us. I fear that she fancies me as her next 'conquest', as several times over the last few days I have caught her smirking at me when she thinks I am not looking. Just yesterday she somehow worked her way behind me as I worked alone and.. stroked my shoulders. I am certain that if our cook, Arstruk Ruthlessmatched, had not wandered in and begun preparing food, she would have had me within minutes. She is afraid of Arstruk. Arstruk is strong. Part of me was almost disappointed at the interruption, but I have seen what Ber does with her toys; she is truly depraved. She is terrible and magnificent, and I am sorry I ever doubted her leadership, she is definitely fit to lead a troop of goblins. Even so, I am terrified that she might pick me to share her bed next, so our mason Jackalclings' latest find is surely a gift from Ostru, god of liars.

Iron! At last we have struck Hematite! Dungeonbait is ecstatic and has gone down to the excavation herself to ensure that all the precious minerals are extracted. With this find, we can finally begin work on our military, and I can use the time to search for a safe place to hide from Dungeonbait's tender affections. Who knows, maybe I'll even find enough room for my friend Jackalincests.. I know she's terrified too. If I do bring her with me, she'll owe me. I wonder how I can exploit that..

28th Felsite, 201

Dungeonbait continues to work feverishly at the ore seam. I have managed to steer clear of her so far by volunteering to work outside and help Badfasten chop wood. Atu is even more muscled than Jackalincests, and renders whole trees to straight, small logs in minutes. Watching the way her muscles move as she cleaves her way through the trees is strangely hypnotic, and she is definitely very strong. As ashamed I am to admit it.. more than once I caught myself daydreaming about how that muscled frame would look naked. If Atu noticed, she has said nothing. I find her good company in any case as she speaks little and works very hard, but she works so quickly it is a struggle to keep up with her. As I write this, I am hiding in our woodpile and trying to catch my breath. Badfasten seems to care little for Tower politics, so I doubt she will complain about my disappearance to Ber. Jackalincests has made herself useful by inspecting the ore we found and seems to think it good quality. In the little time we have had to talk, she has told me that Ber has been giving her ominous looks as well, and she has taken to hiding underneath the trade depot whenever she comes too close. We still have to sleep though, and she has urged me to find a place for us to hide. I have a plan. If I pull this off, I'll have my pick of the iron once our forge is completed..

10th Hematite, 201

Success! I have convinced Jackalclings, that layabout miner, to get off her lazy hind quarters and begin some more excavations. Under the guise of private rooms for us all, I have persuaded her to extend one of the tunnels to the north and build a small sub-chamber there. I did worry about how I would manage to swing the deal, but Jackalclings waved off my questions about payment saying she would 'take her pay from me later'. I did not like the way she looked at me, so I simply asked her to keep my instructions a secret and left. I could feel her eyes on me for the whole length of the corridor. She must be planning something dire. I think I will ask Jackalincests to watch out for me while I sleep tonight, lest I awake to a knife in my gut..

12th Hematite, 201

By Ostru, I am in a fortress of madwomen. For months, Ber's concubine Hatedthrall has been slaving away preparing 'goods for trade'. Our lives are as separate as I can make them, so it took until the arrival of the trade caravan today for me to find out what our craftsgoblin has created. With the sighting of the caravan, Ber was summoned from the depths and began bawling her orders at us, demanding that we carry her precious craftsgoblin's 'toys' up to the trade depot. I complied and joined the others in fetching the goods from the stockpile, only to discover in shock that they're.. Filthy! Nothing but pile after pile of clockwork instruments of pleasure, carved from the very rock we now huddle under! I even saw Atu hefting one in her hand and commenting on the workmanship! I fled in sheer embarrassment and am currently skulking like a snivelling kobold in the darkest corner I can find. What confuses me even more is that the merchants seem delighted by this haul and have provided us with a valuable anvil in exchange! Nothing like this ever happened to me back at home. Has the whole world gone mad?

9th Malachite, 201

Damn it all. My plan has backfired. While working on the secret room that I commissioned, Jackalclings has stumbled upon Kaolinite. She feels we should inform Dungeonbait, but for now I have persuaded her to keep silent. I can only hope that this does not increase her price. The caravan has left with our output of pleasure devices, and Dungeonbait remains distracted from social matters by the importance of getting a forge up and running. Jackalincests has finally been able to have her say in the running of the fort, and has been put in charge of all metal, armor and weaponsmithing. It is a big assignment, but hopefully we will have some migrants before long and they will ease the strain. Mighty Ostru, please let at least some of them be sane..

26th Malachite, 201

Migrants! Fresh blood, and lots of it. Today we sighted them, amidst the heat haze; what fool idea was it to build a fort here? In the spring we had storms for weeks, and now the land itself is dry and cracked. Still, our food supplies are plentiful and there has been no sign of dwarves. The migrants themselves are mostly a sorry lot; two fishermen and a third who guts their kills, a woodcrafter and mason. The only one among them who seems halfway worthy of attention is Utes Templeseduce, the Hunter. She seems to view her fellow migrants with the same disdain I do, and had scarcely introduced herself before she disappeared into the hills to hunt for game. Two jobless peasants also arrived, but they were swiftly browbeaten by Dungeonbait and forced into our 'military'. Currently she has set them to training to build their strength, and they are wrestling and grappling with each other in the barracks. She insists on watching them as they claw and yank at each other's clothes. They are doomed I am sure, and I have no doubt she will break them into part of her harem before long.

12th Galena, 201

Why must everyone in this fort be so.. Perverted?! I can no longer eat in the dining hall with the others. The mason that recently joined us has been set to engraving tales of goblin heroism and glory throughout the fort, and she has set to it with gusto. All through the night the noise of her chisel has been chipping away, and she has since engraved many passable images of simple things such as goblins travelling and finely crafted iron chains. However, I have since discovered that she is as mad, and as perverse as all the others (Save for my good friend Jackalincests and quiet, stoical Atu of course). This morning I arose from my bed in the barracks and stumbled into the dining hall. I heard coughing and looked up instinctively to see the Engraver (whose name is Snamoz Incestdented) waving away a cloud of rock dust and looking up at her latest creation proudly. Interested despite myself, I wandered over to investigate and saw what she has carved on the wall. How I wish I had not done so, then I might have been able to continue eating in that damned hall, where Atu lounges after her shift.. Engraved on the wall is an (admittedly well-designed) image of a goblin and two female elves. The goblin was standing over the elves with an expression of ecstatic triumph. The elves knelt in front of her, hands chained behind their backs (clearly they were supposed to be enslaved, as all elves should be) tears flowing down their faces as they buried their faces in her crotch and.. Pleasured her. This all sickened and disgusted me, but what froze my heart the most was the face of the goblin. As I gazed up at that cold countenance, I saw who it was clearly supposed to be. Ber Dungeonbait gazed down on me victoriously as her two broken elven slaves licked and suckled at her nethers. I fled in terror, as I know not what Dungeonbait will do when she sees it.. All I know is it will not herald good things for anyone, especially me.

16th Galena, 201

Run and hide, run and hide. The worst has come to pass. I had thought that when Ber saw her face engraved in that filthy image, she would be enraged and the entire fortress would suffer. Unfortunately, things are worse than that. She loves it. She actually loves the damn thing! She has commissioned Snamoz to engrave the rest of the fort in a similar style. Soon I won't be able to go anywhere without seeing these damned engravings. I would keep my eyes on the ground, but Snamoz (curse her eyes!) has even started inscribing her lewd imaginings into the floor! I have fled to my sanctum, the secret room at the end of the dead corridor, but even here I find I am not safe. I managed (with a little help from Jackalincests) to smuggle a pair of simple beds down here, but I cannot sleep now. Earlier today, as I toiled at creating yet more mechanisms for our traps (whoever builds them must be a masterful architect, as they are so well hidden I have seen no sign of any of them) Jackalincests came running into the crafting hall, completely out of breath. She told me that Ber was looking for me, and that there was no mistaking what she was after. In terror, I bolted and ran straight for my hiding place, almost knocking over Atu on the way as she carried a barrel up to our stockpile. I would have apologized as I would hate for her to be insulted, but fear spurred me ever onwards to my secret room.

I had intended to block the entrance and sleep there a while until Ber gave up her search for me and sated her interests elsewhere, but unfortunately I could not find enough rubble to block the doorway. I tried to sleep anyway, but my mind raced and I found it impossible, so instead I rose and paced the room. This, more than anything, is likely what saved me. As I prowled the room like a caged human, my ears pricked up at the sound of voices. Snamoz, telling someone (Ber, as it turned out) that she had just seen me haring off down the dead end corridor. My blood ran cold as I heard Ber's cackling laugh of victory, and the sound of feet came padding ever closer to my hidden lair. They had found me! And with only one way in or out, I was trapped! I felt as though my heart would burst, but my fright lent me sudden clarity. If I did not find somewhere to hide, she would have me. In a frenzy, I whipped my head around and scoured the room for some place to hide.. And so I come to my current predicament; I lie here amidst a foetid pile of empty sacks and leather from the lesser creatures we farm. I am covered enough that I cannot be seen, and I can move around enough that I have created a little bubble of space in which to hide.. But I cannot leave. I cannot leave because Ber and Snamoz are still here. When she first entered, I held my breath and prayed to all the darkest of gods that she would not find me. It seems I owe many sacrifices to someone, as after a quick (and surprisingly stealthy) prowl around the room, she sighed in frustration and spat on the floor. Snamoz, who was waiting by the door, shrugged her shoulders and apologized, saying she must have been mistaken. For her part, Dungeonbait was magnanimous. I remember her words exactly, as they are burned forever into my mind by sheer dread. "It is no matter," she said, in that cloying, seductive voice. "For we will have our fun with her another time. Oh yes, there is no doubt about that. But for now my darling, let us discuss the matter of your engravings." For a moment, I thought I was seeing Dungeonbait's true side and that deadly murder was about to be done in front of me. The meaning behind her use of 'darling' had escaped me, as she called us all by that name.. but what happened next was far worse than any murder. Oh, so much worse.

Snamoz approached her and nodded, listing off a description of each one of her foul creations. Dungeonbait seemed to enjoy this to a great degree, and demanded more and more lewd and disgusting details. For her part, Snamoz seemed to take great pleasure in exciting our leader, and began to describe the scenes she pictured in her head for the rest of the fort. I closed my eyes and tried not to listen, but I am sure I can still recall it ad verbatim. I wonder if I will ever forget. Finally Snamoz finished her list of shame, and I hoped for a second that they would leave, but.. No. "Well then my sweet, sick little artist," Dungeonbait spoke again, "It appears you have done much for us. In return, let us finally give you your.. Reward." And with that, she reached up to the clasp of her cape and slipped it free. I swear to all the gods of hatred and evil that, as the thick cape fell to the floor, she was completely naked underneath. Except, that is, for a pair of leather-like shorts of some kind. Her.. Bust shone in the torchlight as she beckoned Snamoz over to the bed, eagerly stroking some strange, inexplicable Thing that jutted out from the leather covering her groin. It may have been a trick of the light, but I was sure I saw the thing respond to her touch, shivering and changing position. The midnight blue garment must have been made from pure demonskin, and it was so finely crafted it must have been prohibitively expensive.. But I had no idea what use the thick, coiled appendage at the front might have. Well, that was then, this is now. Ber has been giving Snamoz her 'reward' for several hours. Her stamina is incredible; snamoz has been reduced to a twitching, panting wreck, and yet still she is used relentlessly by Ber, who stops only to hurl insults at her. Oh dearest log, saviour in my loneliness, I apologize for going into such sickening detail but the scene holds some morbid fascination for me. The only way I can drag myself away from the obscene sight before me is to inscribe my thoughts in you, and now my tale is at an end. My eyes are drawn inexorably towards the bed, where Ber has discarded her strange, twisting undergarment and sits on the edge of the matress, dragging the shattered Snamoz towards her crotch, ordering her over and over again to 'serve her Queen'. I pray that I can withstand this terrible night with my sanity intact. Why did I ever come to this den of witches? Why has nobody come to rescue me? But of course, they do not even know this room is here. I am trapped, trapped while these filthy creatures vent their lust in front of me, and if I am discovered then I shall join Snamoz on her knees, Ber's fist will clutch at MY hair, and then.. Will nobody rescue me? I must look again. I feel as though I am going mad..

19th Galena, 201

Freedom! Awful though my ordeal was, it seems some good may have come of it. I am saved! At some point during that terrible night, exhaustion must have taken me. When I woke up in the morning, Dungeonbait and Snamoz were gone, their illicit liason complete. Still, even though I was starving I couldn't force myself to move for a full hour after I woke up, the thought that it might be a trap thundering through my mind. Eventually I managed to overcome the heavy dread that gripped at my muscles and slid from my sweltering hiding spot, gasping for breath. It was as I sucked down huge lungfuls of dry, dusty air that a familiar smell tickled my nose. I skulked over to the door and poked my head out into the corridor, braced to run, and saw possibly the most welcome sight I have ever seen in this hellhole. Atu lounged on a barrel by the stairs, taking long puffing drags on one of the thin reeds that struggles to grow on the surface in this horrible place. I confess I may have been a little overwrought from my ordeal, and though it shames me to admit it, I fear I may have broken down. I ran to her in tears and confessed all, relating the neverending stream of events that had led me to this state, and especially my confusion and growing apprehension about Dungeonbait's designs for me. If Atu was surprised to see me, she said nothing, and after listening to my tale she simply nodded and clapped me on the back. She said she would look out for me and make sure the others knew to steer clear, which is possibly the longest sentence I've ever heard her say. I am safe! I write this in the barracks two days later, which I have all to myself for the first time in weeks. Nobody has accosted me or even stood too close to me in the stairwell. I feel liberated, and I am sure it shows; my newfound friendship with Atu has brightened my day so much that even the disgusting engravings on the walls cannot spoil my good mood. I feel ecstatic! The others stare at me and even make way as I walk down the halls beaming with joy for the first time in months. Now that I think about it, I do not think any of the migrants have ever even seen me smile before. How shocked they must be! I still worry about Dungeonbait a little, as she is cunning and will surely find a way around Atu if she can, but for now I am on top of the world. I will stop writing now, as Jackalincests wishes me to help her carry the first of our metal goods down to storage. Truly, the fortress is a brighter place today!

1st Limestone, 201

It has been a strange couple of weeks. Things have been going well, but I am confused. The majority of the iron goods Jackalincests has been ordered to smith are chains and cages, and although she claims to have no knowledge of why this is I think she is lying. Still, she is my friend and I will leave her in peace if she does not wish to tell me. I can always find out another way just by spying on the stockpile, after all. Atu's friendship continues to be a constant boon, as I am now left to my own devices at almost all times. My well-muscled heroine remains as stoical and quiet as ever, but she greets me in passing whenever our paths meet, and I am glad for her company. Just yesterday I saw her promise of protection in action: I had just finished designing the layout for a well, when I suddenly realised I was starving hungry. I jogged back to the dining hall, pausing on the way to grab a delicious meal of turtle bones, and it seems I picked a busy time for it as there were at least six others already eating, including Atu. One of the stupid peasant migrants who had become our first wrestlers called out to me, and when I turned she made some sort of joke that I didn't understand. Her friend started laughing so hard she almost choked on her food. Whatever her suggestion meant it was clearly supposed to be at my expense, as the entire hall turned to grin evilly at me. It was at this point that Atu leaned back in her chair (which happened to be behind the wrestler) and calmly reached back, grabbed her by the neck and dragged her out of the room. Nobody has made fun of me since. Even Ber has been suspiciously quiet of late, although I have noticed her eyeing me worryingly while deep in conversation with the filth-monger, Snamoz. I wonder what they are planning, but so long as I have Atu to protect me, I am no longer so scared.

3rd Limestone, 201

I am hiding again, but not out of fear. This time I am hiding out of a strange sense of excitement and shame; for I feel this must remain a secret and yet I must tell someone.. So I come once again to my most valuable possession; my log. The use for the chains has been revealed, although I do not understand the point of it. A large chamber has been excavated near the barracks, with small side-tunnels scarcely large enough for two people to fit inside leading off from it at regular intervals. In each of these alcoves, a set of chains have been affixed to the rock, and the kobolds have been led inside and locked into place. According to a conversation I overheard between Ber and Jackalclings, each of these 'cubicles' will soon have a door to 'allow privacy, if needed'. They have not been affixed yet, however, as Jackalclings is habitually lazy and is currently snoring her head off in the barracks. I didn't understand why privacy would be required, but I decided to investigate the chamber anyway. The kobolds, bless their flea ridden hides, are adorable as ever. As soon as I entered I felt a sudden, unfamiliar surge of pity for the stupid beasts. One of them in particular, a male who had barely reached adulthood, flinched and tried to scrabble even deeper into the tunnel the moment he saw me. I didn't understand his fear, so I stalked closer and tried to coax the shivering wretch out of his hole. I cooed softly to him and slowly he began to relax as he understood I was concerned about his condition. As I entered the alcove, he turned and twitched his nose at me, and I noticed that.. For some reason, a tiny growth was protruding from below his stomach. It seemed inflamed and swollen. If he was ill and he died Dungeonbait would have my head, so I reached down and tried to examine it. The second my hand touched it however, he shivered and squeaked in terror. I tried to reassure him by gently stroking the affected area, but that just seemed to make things worse. Then it hit me. Poison! Of course! He must have been bitten by a snake while left to wander on the surface. If left alone, the poison would inevitably kill him, so I knew what I had to do; the poison had to be sucked out.

Getting down on all fours in front of the diminutive creature, I took the thing into my mouth and began desperately trying to suck out the poison. This seemed to startle him, but he didn't recoil as I feared he would. I tried as hard as I could, but nothing seemed to happen; if anything, the growth seemed to get even bigger.

At one point, I was certain that I heard a noise over by the door, but when I whipped my head around there was no sign of anyone in the gloom. A second later the poor kobold gripped my hair and violently yanked me back towards him, so I shrugged and returned to trying to cure him. To cut a long story short, it worked; a few minutes later his breath became laboured and he squealed pitifully, and I felt a hot jet of poison splash into my mouth. I have no idea why I did what I did next, but it seemed instinctive; without thinking, the second my mouth filled with venom, I was so surprised that.. I swallowed it. I remember thinking at the time that it didn't taste like poison, but the swelling disappeared almost immediately, so I suppose I must have done something right. For some reason though, I feel as though I have somehow done something terrible.. I hope I do not get sick myself. Jackalclings is bellowing for someone to help carry the doors down to the chamber, so I should probably go help. I will drink lots of fresh water and hope for the best.