[Update's a little lacking, sorry. I have to use fastdwarf to keep the dwarves moving at a workable pace so I strongly STRONGLY encourage all following overseers to make use of it outside of combat.]
8th Slate, 210
More godsdamned sheep. I referred to an old god named Ast and still don't know what that diety represented but I'm beginning t think its the god of animals constantly fucking. I'm sick and tired of getting reports of more animals being born. Also, Fischer came and spoke with me today. She looked tired and she said something's wrong. Even the docs couldn't figure it out so they're assuming it has to be some leftover side effect of Thili's gases. She says she can't continue as champion if she's never awake to respond to a threat. She was going to hand the position over to Draignean, but he hasn't been seen since he went to bed last night.
I asked her what she intends to do, and she said to have Dauros come to her quarters. Were it under normal circumstances I'd assume something was going on between the two, but this seems serious.
[The following is a narrative of the change in Champion.]
"Knock knock." Dauros said as he entered Fischer's room. It was a nice room all things considered. Most of the furnishings were made of valuable kaolinite, and whatever wasn't was made from shale, save the bed, assembled from well-worked featherwood. The centerpiece of the room was an nearly perfect jet statue of a famed dwarven soldier killing a goblin in a war some decades ago.
Fischer was barely awake, but she sat up. As all the soldiers did she slept in her armor, but things were off. Fischer just didn't look right without that diamond shield bolted to her forearm or Splashslowed in her hands. "Afternoon Dauros, I assume Splint sent you?"
Dauros nodded. "Aye ma'am, he did. Said you wanted to see me about something." Fischer beckoned him closer, to a box beside her bed. "Indeed I do. i have something that needs to be taken care of, and since Draignean's suffering from whatever I have, that leaves you by seniority to take over."
Dauros was taken aback as he sat on the box next to his commander. "Take over? What do you mean?" He sounded very concerned over that wording.
Fischer raised the visor of her helmet and removed it, handing it towards him. "We trade. I can't be the fortress champion if I can't go more than a couple hours without falling on my face. I checked with Mitch, our heads are around the same size. Might be a little snug on you though." Quite frankly it was the first time Dauros had actually seen Fischer's eyes. Slightly rounded, heliotrope. Honestly Dauros had always thought her eyes were blood red or something else menacing. Her hair was slightly grayed ecru, and surprisingly neat, and combed over. Honestly she'd have probably been able to get anyone she wanted is she'd just taken her helmet off, as even with the slight wrinkles on her face she was still quite attractive.
"I don't..." Dauros said, not really sure what to do.
Fischer sighed "I'm staying commander on the books. But I'm passing the mantle of Champion to you. Draingnean's got whatever I do and you have seniority over Paintbrush. If you die, then the position goes to him and from there by whoever's been here longest. So, let's trade." She said, holding out her helmet. "Maybe now those squishy humans will be a challenge for you."
Dauros reluctantly removed his helmet and took Fischer's. She set his helmet on the nightstand beside her bed and with a nod, told him "Down it goes." Motioning for him to lower the visor. It was slightly tight, but that was more attributable to the extra skullcap he had on for extra padding. When the visor came down it was like he was ina near total status of tunnel vision. "You're dismissed Champion." Fischer said after Dauros looked around around a bit.
"One more thing," She said as he went to close the door behind him. "Yes ma'am?" He asked. "You better do the fortress proud as its new champion or I'll go to hell and drag you back and make you try again myself."
10th Slate, 210
We've made some more progress but it seems the liason can't find the damned export papers so he has to draft new ones. This may take awhilxjbjbhjstg,bbxffsjbkhl the rest of the writing degrades into nonsense for a page and a half, and is ended with different handwriting
Below... Our solution lies below... You can save our kin, but you must first claim the underworld as our domain.
11th Slate, 210
That... That was concerning. I've had bouts of madness before, but that... That was not normal. Anyways, I was told animal processing was taking a very long time so I had an order sent out for a another set of workshops to be built and this has sped things up considerably. I've also put an order for our workers to head topside and fell som trees. While this hurts us in combat against enemy bowmen, we have more pressing needs for wood; the stockpiles are nearly tidied up and a few doezen more crates to store this crap in will go a long way to making our lives easier. I've also decided that our lists of dead things needs to be narrowed down. Gotta make space for the new things that die right?
[Ok, so I used the clear dead command to clean up the lists, the stockpiles are amazingly getting cleared up, we have had a massive boost in ore production because of my apartment program, and I'm going to boost the popcap waaaaay up to get migrants. After we invade hell, I'm thinking we'll just create an endgame goal of becoming the official capital, and let the fortress' fall be left to legend.
Also, for the first time in our history, a dwarf will venture forth into the caverns to face the forgotten beasts, or more specifically, give Dauros an FB kill by taking down Ebra the mud monster.]
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Topic: [34.11] Spearbreakers - It shudders and begins to move (Read 2278671 times)