Weird joykill wakes up in his comfy bed with a start.
The memory is fuzzy, but he distinctly remembers being a ghost, and that it was awesome.
Shrugging off the wild fantasy, he crawls out of bed for what seems like the first time in a very vlong time. Strange sensations assail him, and it is only after a moment or two of reflection that he recognizes them as hunger and thirst.
"Either I've been asleep way too long, or I should go see gizogen about my head...." he murmurs to himself, as he slips into his pigtail clothes.
Passing through to the stockpiles from the residential quarters, a strange sensation stirs in the back of his mind, and before he really understands why, he detours through the memorial hall.
Tucked away, almost out of sight is a solid gold memorial slab that shouldn't be there. Mixed feelings of apprenension and subconscious goading twist into indescribable emotional sensations, as he anxiously and with great trepidation closes in on the slab.
In terrible handwriting that only a kobold could make, a profane denoucement of a scientist is inscribed, but where the name goes, there is only a horribly slashed splotch on the otherwise gleaming metal surface.
Confronted with physicial evidence to corroberate the dream, the mad cientist stumbles backward, and trips over a small ossuary dedicated to some other dwarf's kitten, and lands on his bottom with a thump; splayed out in a very uncomely and undignified position.
From the vents overhead, a shrill screaming and the sound of jointed legs being against the metal draws closer.
Weird joykill questions the validity of reality as it currently exists.
After a few moments of (fairly) quiet reflection on this substantiation of his dream, weird joykill ignores his hunger and thirst, and returns to his lab.
The lab had originally had nasty orthoclase and microcline walls. It now had the very, very wrong but far more aesthetically pleasing obsidian ones. Though rough hewn, it was a very nice improvement to the room.
Digging in the fire cabinet, he withdraws two glass bottles of hydrocyanic acid, a charcoal powered breizer, a length of tanned kitten intestine tubing, and the vent key.
Heading to the fume hood, he shuts the main exit vent, opens the recirculation vent, and sets up the cyanide gas "bug bomb", but doesn't light the breizer.
He instead waddles his short yet stout dwarven frame out of the lab, vent shutoff key in hand, the imminent needs of food and drink being terribly incessant.
On the way to the stockpiles, he idly talks at all the people leaving their quarters, contemplating why it is that some of them seem utterly terrified to see him, and quickly slam their doors. Others seem releived by his presence however, and with some nice, calming conversation, the instructions for everyone to close their vents and plug them with wet cloth to get rid of a "massive infestation" of large roaches in the vent system seems fairly well received.
The strawberry wine, and =plump helmet roast= were particularly agreeable when he finally got to the stockpiles. Refueled and liquored up, the insane scientist's plans spring into doubletime as the sobriety wears off.
In a seemingly mad dash, he rushes through the fortress sealing duct exits, and plugging them appropriately, until at last the only vents open are the main line leading to the air outside, and the tributary line from his lab.
With a smile, he heads back to the lab.
Weird joykill absolutely detests large roaches.
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Topic: If Bay Forum were a Mountain Hall... (Read 448164 times)