I’ve started playing again. Dwarfs of note:
“Hero”, who got his title in the last goblin invasion- only a small one thank god, all my dwarfs were outside collecting wood, they only just ran inside in time. Hero was trapped outside by a cruel twist of fate- he ran out just as the drawbridge was swinging up, knocking him unconscious. He lay in the entrance halls while the multilayered traps and wardogs took care of the advance party of trolls, and then he woke up just as the main host of enemies arrived at the gate. Grabbing up his crossbow he fired wildly into the scrum- with his first shot piercing the heart of the goblin leader. As the rest of the ungodly fiends ran for their lives, he chased after firing with every step, slaying a dozen goblins before the river. He returned home to a heroes welcome, and a title to match.
“The Butcher”, which is a lesson in what results if you let an initial population of 4 randy horses breed unchecked for a few years. The resulting 100-odd horses were starting to block up the corridors- at least 30 had adopted a lowly peasant and followed him everywhere. His description, however, said he didn’t like horses. So I made him into a butcher. Two seasons later and pretty much my entire fortress is flooded with blood, and I have three tanners working overtime to keep up with this one pissed off, horse hating slaughter machine. I have a couple of years worth of meat and leather armour for all my marksdwarfs though, so it’s well worth it. I also have about 40 cats… yummy.
The final dwarf in our story is “The Recruit”, previously a lone fisherman wandering the banks of the underground river fishing for cave lobster. His journeys had taken him further afield than usual, down an old abandoned (though stupidly unlocked) exploratory passage which led to a small far away beach. Where he was ambushed by lizardmen. I switched to the military screen and recruited him- as he was in my initial batch of dwarfs I’d made sure he’d got some small amount of military training, and an axe to carry. He smote the first lizardman with such a hefty blow that his corpse splattered blood over the wall on the far side of the river. He took down another, and another. The ground was littered with limbs and chucks, both from the invaders and the one lone soldier. Finally he fled in terror- down the long passage towards the squads of marksdwarfs I’d sent running as soon as the alarm was sounded. He made noble progress, but with only one leg left working it was futile. The last invading lizardman caught up and tore his throat out, a heartbeat before being slaughtered by the squads. The Recruit lay there for a while, no doubt in terrible agony, with every part of his body damaged, before bleeding to death, just as the soldiers reached him.