Granite Close
I've almost finished replacing the houses I destroyed. I don't really remember why I destroyed them, I assume they offended Broseph Stalin in some way or another. They aren't really centered but they weren't before anyway. Of course as soon as I take care of the housing situation more migrants
I decided to invent a game called “everyone is carpenters” where I charge towards the migrants swinging my sword and shrieking “everyone is carpenters!” until they run off to help build new homes. Pretending to be crazy is fun. Some of the children decided they wanted to play too and started removing the roofs from houses I'd ordered destroyed. They were terrible at it and managed to cause a collapse that knocked a mason into the river. She passed out underwater and nearly drowned but she came to and scrabbled to shore with only a few bruises.
The Inquisitor, Hostergaard (I apparently changed the title of mayor to inquisitor in one of my poorer times) has begun complaining to me. He says his office isn't nice enough, his dining room isn't nice enough, people keep whining to him (the irony was lost on him), he's had to drink vomit, he was embarassed that the traders saw his-- what the holy hell. There's no booze, I can appreciate that but there is a fucking river a literal fucking river made of fluids that are not vomit, hell he has a moat, he physically has to avoid clean water every time he leaves his house. Not to mention the fact that I haven't seen any vomit in a very long time except for that which the gutshot boars spew out in the forest. I have to assume that Hostergaard got a thirst about him, and then went out to the woods to actively pursue some animal vomit to drink specifically so he had an excuse to pester me about the alcohol situation. It worked, booze is #1 priority if there are any more psychopaths out there planning on stuffing vomit into their mouths in protest they don't have to they have won. I don't think the sun is very good for dwarves.
For all of our problems we have only ten dead in five years. The original Murderfarmed had fallen only four years after it's settlement, even though we're in a rough patch we have more able bodied dwarves and resources than ever before.
Slate Open
I remember the pain I suffered at Sacha's hands and the blood that has not been repaid. While she slept I conspired to take a Llama's carcass that would otherwise rot untouched in it's cage. Her screams were my lullaby. Kittenflesh is wasted in the cellars. I demand full compliance of our resources and their utilization to the fullest. Their delicious meat is worthless while attached to the bones. Their skulls cannot be fashioned into trinkets while still inside their heads. There are no further trees to chop, I grow bored. I found a cleaver in one of the many stockpiles and I begin my gory harvest. Kittenblood still stains my hands. It tastes like fear.
Fear has been sown, by elf-birds, night monsters, and thieves. When we harvest that black and wicked harvest we shall repay one thousand fold onto this land. We bristle with bolts and crossbows. The foe will bristle with bolts. One more squad will increase our power. Come green menace, our marksdwarves are at the ready.
Slate 15
Woke up with one hell of a headache. I'm missing time. I ate some more leaves. Also I killed a bunch of cat's and put a rotting animal in Sacha's bed I'll have to answer for both those things. My last journal entry is filled with ramblings and crude images.
I remember an initiative in the mountainhomes to cross-train woodcutters as herbalists. I'm no great botanist but I read through an old book I brought along. The leaves look like Valley Herbs. I found a professional herbalist and gave him a bucket of vomit to hold over his head, told him it was of critical importance that he tell me everything he knows about Valley Herbs. They still make Flamey pore over the books, Betelgeuse still deals with the traders every time they come, and Sacha still “treats” the wounded. I don't want anyone to think I'm sane enough to have a bunch of responsibilities or to be a target for assassination. For added measure when he was finished talking I kicked him in the genitals causing the bucket to spill all over his prone form and then told him that further blasphemy would be punished in a similar fashion.
It sounds like valley herb can't grow well in terrain like this. I must have gotten extremely lucky when I found that bundle of leaves but it's not enough. They're more potent when made into golden salve, I need some of that. I'll have to get some from the elves. I can't focus on myself though. There's too much to be done. Still trying to get the housing and booze situation under control but these lazy bastards aren't working fast enough. We're cranking out more barrels and I've warned everyone that they're all brewers now, and if I catch them doing anything but brewing on their shift (which is on a list that exists only in my head) I'll put them on kitten butchering duty. They shove each other out of the way so they can get to the still.
Speaking of shoving I expanded the middle bridge. Apparently one of our good natured but inexperienced overseers made a convenient little bridge just wide enough for a dwarf to cross on foot. It's so convenient that nobody wants to take the long way to use the big bridge or the temple, so everybody was crossing on their bellies while other dwarves walked over them it was ridiculous. It's now wide enough for three dwarves walking side by side and has fortifications as guardrails.
Oh also there's a ghost in the river.
I called him an asshole and told him to leave. He just pointed at the roof of a house, turns up he died up there a while ago. This would be the end of it but then someone lost his body. Oh goddammit I hope Agronnek didn't make it into bolts. PLEASE tell me the marksdwarves aren't firing that ghosts sharpened corpse into our foes because if there's anything that's going to make it kill all of us it's definitely that.
I screamed at the inquistion and told them it was time for battle. They were awfully pissed when it turned out we were purging the remaining boars. Fishybang transcended pissed. He was absolutely livid and ran with the kind of aclarity of a man half his age. He ran down both remaining boars and killed them with the knife he's been carrying.
Triaxx lost her baby to a pack of dingoes. It's arm was torn off and it bled to death almost instantly. I rallied the Inquisition to get revenge on those evil little bastards but Triaxx just walked mechanically to the beer hall for a drink.
We lost the culprit in the melee but we cut their numbers from ten to three in moments. Sacha charged Shalitizag the murderous dingo and but was drawn out of the charge when another one attempted to devour the child she still carried. It bit her a few times but her leather shoes protected her. Betelgeuse ran ahead and cut down Shalitizag before rejoining our onslaught. The rest fell without incident.
The marksdwarves went on to kill a random moose presumably to get the murder out of them.
I'm glad the booze situation is under control, I'd be concerned about our murderous marksdwarves going on a rampage.
Felsite Open
I'm about to do some renovations on the second temple. The building is more impressive but it stores much less in the way of emergency supplies. It's also not secure against aquatic attack. I asked myself what the likelihood of an aquatic attack was but then I asked myself what the odds of something that isn't very likely killing all of us and those were spectacularly high. This month the focus will be on shoring up the booze supply, 150 rations is less dire than 3 but it's still unacceptable.
Felsite 15
Clothes and dogs are the order of late. The grown pups are being trained for war, we've heard little from the greenskins but I don't think that's going to last. I expect the elves shortly, I'll tell them to bring us some golden salve next year, I'll say it's for massaging into the holy tome or something people will believe that.
Felsite Close
(The following is frantically scrawled, the margins of the page are rife with images of elves being slaughtered and tortured.)
Betrayers and subversives come to evil. A terrible elven war party behind the horizion marching with terrible footfalls that give the earth fervor and tremors. They march to the center of the trade depot to begin their black and terrible siege but we are many. Surrounded on all sides bolts bite into tender flesh. They did not anticipate our ferocity. Both spearmen die in a screaming frenzy as marksdwarves yet to be issued quivers strike their unprotected heads and backs with the butts of their crossbows. The inquisition flanks their bowmen to strike deadly blows before the first arrows can be knocked. The fools brought their war beasts in cages and before they can be loosed upon us the dogs have come to feast. Even their pack beasts are not spared our wrath. The howls and wails of war and death drown out all other sounds well in the night. The cowardly elf-general flees into the clay pit during the battle and hides. The Inquisition comes. She cowers in a ball begging for mercy. The Inquisition has none to offer. Her cowardice means she dies last. Our skill means she dies quickly. That does not mean she dies well.
When we are surrounded by the corpses our work is only half done. We drag the corpses to the river and toss them in. Their war beasts are brought to the butchery and their flesh will make our nightly meal for many days. We pillage their war drink and war cloth and throw them all over the ground to dishonor their horrible elven ways. Elves bring war to Murderfarmed. We bring war to elves. I order the inquisition to feast on severed elf-limbs and drink of pillaged elf-wine. Betelgeuse persuades that imbibing elf meat may turn us into elves. I do not question his science and I cease my gnawing on fetid elf-hand. It sinks to the bottom of the river.
(the following is written in a much steadier hand)
I think I've done something awful.
Hematite Open
Okay so I butchered the elven traders and ransacked their caravan and killed their animals and chewed on one of their hands. How bad is this? Oh sweet merciful God why did I try to ration my valley herb? Any golden salve or herb that the elves may have had has been destroyed in the melee and so has any hope of them bringing more next year. This is pretty bad. I'm almost out of leaves and it's possible I'll relapse into a permanent manic state before years end. I can't keep thinking about this, all I can do is survey the damage.
One bone carver was shot in the foot by an elf before the inquisition took him down but that looks like the worst of it. Sacha says that they're going to sew his foot together around the arrow and let him yank it out whenever he next washed. We have two certified High Master Diagnosticians but Sacha is chief medical dwarf. I'd fix it but I'm more concerned about our sudden influx of elfy-wares.
Bins overflowing with cloth, (hey Flamey, Sacha I settled that dispute) tons and tons of plants we absolutely do not need, precious little ale, and cages filled with assorted animals, a few bags of dirt, a couple cords of wood, and all of it covered in a thick layer of blood. There's not a lot of stockpile room and I don't intend to make anymore, anything that isn't gone by months end is getting chucked in the river.
Looks like the temple is finished. There's a large storehouse underneath now to outlast any siege. I went to meet our new Inquisitor after the election and it seems she travels a lot.
Fucking hellspawn.
I took Sacha and Dariush's soap hut and told our Vampire friend that it was her home now. I told her to check out her new home. When she was inside I locked the door.
I'd had a special platform built on top and ordered every wooden bolt in all murderfarmed rounded up.
Each and every bolt was to be thrown into the hole in the roof perforating the vampire scum inside. She wasn't expecting the first one, the leatherworker threw it in and it struck her in the head just like he planned. Something happened when he did that, she couldn't stand anymore and if she was a real dawrf she would have suffocated shortly after.
The volleys came faster and harder. More dwarves throwing bolt after bolt, each man trying to pierce her black heart. The barrage became a bit sadistic I'll confess.
They quickly stopped aiming for her heart. It wasn't hard to find joy in destroying an enemy of Murderfarmed, especially one as unsympathetic as a vampire. They threw their volleys taking bets on body parts, “one ration of wine says I can hit hit her hand” “two rations says you can't get her eye.”
The problem with bolts, as any marksdwarf will tell you, is that the wounds they inflict rarely bleed well. If you can't hit them in the head heart or throat your target will invariably survive no matter how ferociously you attack. Her head was thick, she protected her heart, and her throat was a very small target. The walls were splattered with her blood and the bolts piled up around her. Forming an ever growing pile as our supply of wooden bolts ran low. Finally a hearty toss by some unidentified party pierced her throat and while she tried to slow the bleeding her unprotected head was pierced by a second bolt killing her instantly.
I was struck by a terrible thought. To prevent what I knew to be inevitable I had a casket put in the room above my home, I shall keep her corpse in my posession ensuring that no tampering may take place. I've ordered the soap chamber sealed and filled with water. We hold a power that has thusfar only been whispered about. If someone were to drink of the water filling the the resevoir, to imbibe the blood of the vampire then they themselves would become a vampire. We could create an army of unliving, superdwarven warriors. No need to eat, no need to drink, no need to sleep. Feasting on the blood of our foes. However I have to recognize that “Vampire Army” is the kind of idea that comes from the same place as “delicious elf-hands.” I'll eat a few more leaves and seal off the well but I can't destroy it. Not only would that risk contaminating the river I'm not ready to surrender this blessing. The Lash of Braids will bow before us, Murderfarmed now controls a Well of Unlife.
The following excperpt is shakily written. And the entry is broken up sporadically by unprompted affirmations of innocence and apologies.
(I did what I had to.) Murderfarmed is in dire straits, (I did nothing wrong). There's been discovery of a freshly drained corpse. A man by the name of Catten, the herbalist who told my about the valley herb (I had no choice!) The vampire must have claimed a victim just before being taken to the execution chamber. But they wouldn't believe that. Between the houses, the spells of insanity, the lack of booze and various other problems everyones on edge. (Somebody had to die.) It's the truth but they would never sleep well fearing another vampire in the village. (I did nothing wrong.) They would have cried for blood, there would have been a tantrum spiral. Murderfarmed would have burned. I took up sword and mail to fight for murderfarmed, to use my blade to ensure it's safety. That's what I've done. A man, Bomrek Fencedaxe (If I forget that name let me burn) many knew of him but only his wife even knew his name. I charged him with the crime. They wouldn't abide anything but death for a vampire so jail was out of the question. I found him in his home, alone. And I beat him. I beat him until his breath left him.Apparently his death warrants reprisal as well. There are calls to find the inquisitor who took Bomreks breath. They demanded blood for blood and then blood for that blood (YOU GODDAMNED SAVAGES) I had a rope hauled to Hostegaards office and ordered Dariush tied to it for delivering an excessive beating, he plead his innocence but that seemed well in line with the behavior of a guilty man. I cannot lead Murderfarmed in chains, and without me murderfarmed will fall. We can do without dariush for 201 days. I was careful to shame Sacha for not reporting her husbands murderous ways , passing up the opportunity to cause her hardship would have been out of character. 201 days tied to a post, in that time he'll come to believe he was guilty. An innocent man dead and another imprisoned but their bloodlust has been placated and Murderfarmed will endure.
Malachite Close
One of the apiarists was found standing on top of a barrel of ale hungry, thirsty, and depressed. He said he was trying to install a new colony into a hive, I think the sun got to him. For now I've removed one of the hives, Agronnek had to be restrained. We have jugs but no hard stone to make mechanisms so it's unlikely we'll be able to harvest from the remaining hive.
A couple of new migrants, some leatherworkers doctors and I wasn't really paying attention to the rest. Our numbers swell to 170 regardless. A few new saplings have grown to an acceptable height and we've renewed woodcutting efforts. It seems clothesmaking is a bit too slow, I ordered that only “Great” and higher clothiers are allowed to make clothing, the “Talented” Flamey nearly took a swing at me. We're no longer processing rope reed into cloth, if these new assholes are too damned fancy to wear cloth soaked in elf-blood then I'll make put them in a squad of marksdwarves that fights by standing in front of the enemy making crossbow sounds with their mouths.
We seem to have tons of dye making materials but no dye, one of the overseers made a quern but never set it up, I've remedied that. Not to mention I've scaled back the farmers. We now have five, all considered “Great” or higher. I don't want to seem too competent so I've done this by making a list of righteousness and ensuring that all unskilled farmers were not on it. I'm tired of wasting our scarce barrels on single strawberries.
Galena 10
I've got the gemcutters cutting fireclay and encrusting the bolts with it. I Bolts are more functional than crafts so despite the fact we have more than we could ever use I continue to expand the armory. at first they said that wasn't possible but later they just said “please stop hitting me.” Their actually pretty good at it.
The detail is spectacular, it doesn't make sense.
Galena 11
Humans come with war-wagons laden with weapons of death. I go to give them fire.
Galena 11
Caught myself going on a murderous rampage and canceled the order to “kill the humans ,and wear their skins, then take their wagons back to the Human capitol to chop their queen into pieces and then eat the pieces” Goddamnit I need more leaves.
Galena 14
Four wagons, what the hell are they bringing in?
Galena 16
JACKPOT!!! Metal weapons, bars of metal, metal shields, we can outfit another squad of melee soldiers. Not to mention barrels and barrels of wine and ale. Our drinks have swollen to 515 rations.
Galena 20
I've come to notice two things, first that a thick layer of blood and vomit coats the trade depot and any dwarf, animal, or object that has ever passed through the trade depot. The second, is that there are too many children. I've issued a new edict that every time a new baby is born everyone in town is to stare at the parents judgmentally until they weep. Failure to stare or weep will be punished by being rolled naked through the trade depot. I am absolutely not doing that I ate some more leaves and I understand that that would be insane. I am instead constructing a platform over the trade depot to collapse and murder the elf-humans I am not going to do that that is a terrible idea I need more leaves. I'm going to use the platform to wash the trade depot free of vomit and everyone will thank me for it.
Galena Close
I am so awful.
After it became apparent making bloody vomit muddy was the exact opposite of cleaning I ordered the platform deconstructed. I failed to specify an order and the collapse knocked everyone nearby over. A baby's had it's hand shattered but if the mother doesn't care enough to take it to the hospital I don't care enough to do anything about it.
Limestone 10
I'm sick of looking at all of these [strike]worthless sacks of meat and hatred and I am going to kill [/strike] loose bolts lying around. I've ordered a basement to be dug beneath the barracks to house weapons and ammunition. I've also created two new melee squads and a few more marksdwarf squads and armed them with the equipment we bartered from the humans. The militia is now one hundred and seventeen strong, 53 of our number are children and our total population is 172. Exactly two fully grown dwarves have not been drafted, our one remaining woodcutter who can't track of all his gear and Hostergaard who is very much more valuable alive. Everyone likes Hostergaard, it's why he keeps being reelected even though to my knowledge he has never done anything useful. If he died because of something I did I'm fairly certain I'd be run out of town. Murderfarmed is prepared to take up arms should the need arise. I pity any goblin that would come for us.
Limestone 20
I've ordered the construction of twelve new clay houses, some people aren't excited about the humble clay houses (dirt hovels they call them) but ever since I started screaming at people I find sleeping outdoors they seem a bit more enthusiastic to have a home of their own.
Limestone Close
Dariush nearly died. Apparently nobody thought it was necessary to bring him food or water. He's chained up in Hostegaards office, it's inexcusable that he didn't say anything sooner. I've had two barrels of food and two barrels of drink brought to Dariush to eat and drink from as necessary. I've also created a squad of animals including a cougar, a moose, a snapping turtle, and lead by the late Uristeamers duck who are to stand inside Hostegaards bedroom and stare at him while he sleeps.
Dariush died standing beside a full barrel of fisherberry wine. I think I'll set Hostegaards bed on fire.
Sandstone 10
I've deposed Hostegaard for his indiscretion. I am mayor now and as such I am no longer war marshall of the Inquisition. He'll become Hammerer and guard captain instead, a better role for a grand inquisitor I think. It's been explained that between my severe mental disorder, general unlikability, and the fact that nobody in all of Murderfarmed has ever voted for me even by accident mean I probably shouldn't be mayor but I dispelled those concerns by threatening year round full squad training.
I killed two dwarves.
A boar wandered into the residential area. It kicked a baby ,no injury, but I dispatched Hostegaard and the Inquisition to kill it. Sacha ran it down and stabbed it viciously with her spear ,she may have some anger about the whole I killed her husband thing. She needs to get over it.
The Bolts of God caught a Kobold skulking about on patrol, they tore it to shreds with arrows long enough for the Inquisition to arrive and hack it's bastard head off.
Sandstone 20
Humans finally left.
Sandstone Close
The Trade Depot is finally cleared of corpses and wares but it's still coated in vomit. There are no longer homeless dwarves in Murderfarmed, finally after half a years labor every dwarf has a roof over his-- OH FUCK YOU!
FUCK YOOOOUUUU!
Eight more dwarves to hate.
Timber 10
Vampire
Herbalist
That guy I killed with my bare hands, I forget his name.
Dariush Whom I framed.
I've filled four caskets this year.
The Vampire, Dariush, and the Herbalist were all popular so morale is low. I'm using a combination of threats and bribes to get everyone to smile when the caravans come.
Timber 20
The traders arrived but there's more alarming news. Betelgeuse wandered to the trade depot looking pale and complained that he hadn't slept well. I think there's another vampire in our midst. Maybe it's one of the new migrants or maybe I was too rash in attributing the death of Cattan to the Vampire Mayor, maybe this vampire has been here for a long time. It may not even be one, there may be dozens of vampires, I'm hereby ordering constant vigilance. If anyone is suspected of being a vampire or harboring a vampire they will be detained and tried by water. Any man found guilty will suffer the hail of bolts that our old Vampire Mayor suffered. We're going to start with the Gentry, any individual who has received a substantial number of votes for mayor is a suspect.
I can't think about this right now. Happy thoughts, if I become angry, if I allow myself to lose grip and the irrational side takes over it would be horrible.
But that's not entirely true. I've been thinking, the other side (I've come to call him Boot) is very efficient at these sort of things. He organized an ambush against the elves with only one casualty. These awful things he does he does with remarkable skill, there's a method to his madness. I think that if I let him go, let him off the leash completely I think he can handle this. But the cost... I don't know what I can do.
Timber Close
I have to do it. I have to. I promised to do whatever it takes to save Murderfarmed. No matter what the cost. Others have paid that price before, men have died to preserve secrets that were never meant to see the light of day. Men have died to destroy foes that would left to their own devices see us burn. If the price to rid Murderfarmed of the Vampire menace is my sanity then I'll pay that price. I don't know where Boot comes from but I no longer question him. I submit to his will. The next three months are out of my hands. Thus begins the reign of Boot.
Four dead under my reign and I can't help but think that none of them were absolutely necessary.
FEAR is today's game. FEAR. Not the fear of a child cowering in it's bed, something deeper and more fearsome. Something older. The rabbit trembles when it feels the hot breath of the wolf at dead run. When it knows the end is near. That fear exists in the oldest part of the mind, the strongest part. That fear is powerful and it consumes like a fire the entirety of the being. I sense your fear vampire. I sense your hate. You are so very alone and we are so very many. Your judgment day is coming and when my boot is on your neck there will be no staying my hand.
Doors. Doors. Doors. Pathways to secret places that exist beyond the realm of sight and sound where dark wonders ply their devil trades. Doors are the foe. Concealing the murder of farms that do so unvaliantly preempt wisdom in their touch. Flesh. Flesh remains when stripped of doors and open doorways do so advance the cause of our destruction.
I have removed every door in Murderfarmed. Felcis demanded her door returned. I asked why she desired to be murdered in her bed and she did not respond. Felcis added to the list.
Sacha complained that the patients would grow cold without doors. I asked why Sacha desired to be beyond public view with helpless dwarves and she did not respond. Sacha added to list.
Asked Zasit why he isn't married. He mumbled. Zasit added to the list.
Asked Hostegaard why people like him, he said he wasn't a crazy bastard. Hostegaard added to list.
Asked Halt why he drinks disgusting fisherberry wine when wonderful prickleberry wine is available said he didn't like prickleberry wine. Halt added to list.
Asked Stardust why he was staring at a piece of meat and a handful of strawberries for thirteen minutes, he said he didn't want to choose wrong and be put on the list. Stardust added to list.
I asked Agronnek why his bees were so terrible, he started shouting something but I couldn't hear him over how loudly I was adding his name to the list.
Asked Pon-Katt why his daughter was so fat. Pon-Katt punched me in the nose. Pon-Katt added to list.
Asked Betelgeuse why he worshipped the Inrus Secretivesin, God of Lies, known to have created several vampires and werebeasts. Said it did honor to Broseph Stalin. Betelgeuse not added to list.
Asked Betelgeuse how he got holes in his cloak. Blamed moths and thorns. Betelgeuse added to list.
(This portion of the entry is several pages long and includes every dwarf in murderfarmed for infractions ranging from having sharp teeth to wearing unattractive hats shoes that don't match.)
The harvest will not be clean.
JOURNAL OF BOOT, SLAUGHTERMEISTER OF THE HELMETINE INQUISITION AND SCOURGE OF THE VAMPIRE MENACE REVIEW OF MONTH MOONSTONE YEAR
Threw gnomeblight in the well in secret. Vampires are clearly gnomish assassins from the kingdom of Gnomeria come to copy and steal our superior dwarven designs. Now when the vampires drink from the well they will die of gnome poison.
Forgot to break open barrels before throwing them into the well, sent in hamster mercenary to crack barrels inside well. Hamster has not made contact in several days, presumed dead- intercepted by gnomish assassins.
Liason said we were ready to become a barony. Declared myself baron. Flamey fell into the river, she fell in so badly that four strong dwarves had to drag her back out while she proclaimed she no longer wished to live. Hostegaard is happy to be mayor again.
Position of Militia Commander replaced with Witchhunter General. The purge will not be stopped.
Trade Liason wants:
Handwear
Windows
Handwear
Meat
Bracelets
I told him to bring all of the stones and beer from the mountainhomes, he stared for a while.
Orderd construction of a Brass coffin for my tomb. I need a tomb if I'm going to continue my war against the undead.
The final month of my reign.
The well of Unlife froze, the process destroyed the vampire blood. It freed up the chamber for judgement. Vampire blood will not be scarce though.
Ral Razorsword was a marksdwarf and macedwarf of considerable skill. She was also in posession of several rattlesnake and kiwi bone jewelry. These indicate she was once a soldier and a hunter but she boasts of no kills.
Same with Atir Contestcrafts. Marksdwarf, jewerly, won't speak of any kills. Long list of past civilizations with sudden and unexplained departure.
Lolor Gorgedent was seen near Betelgeuses home the night he was bitten.
Zuglar Gemmaster was seen near the scene of another non-fatal biting.
I Helmet Manorfigure, Boot Slaughtermeister, Founder of Murderfarmed, Baron of Murderfarmed, and prophet of Our Lord Broseph Stalin have charged these men with the crime of Vampirism, when tried by water all four were found guilty. I condemn all four to death.
When I came for Zuglar Hostergaard had snatched him up in the middle of the night and chained him up in his office. Hostergaard had charged him with violating an export order (carrying a shield to the trade depot apparently, the kind of thing you can't really verify.) He'll face twenty two days tied to a post and when he's freed I'll no longer be Overseer and I'll no longer be able to execute him. Lolor professed her innocence all night but this morning she only begs. Begs, that if I have any mercy in my heart I'll permit her to see her Husband one final time. I have none.
We offer them the chance to purify their souls by surrendering to the will of Broseph Stalin. They refuse.
Lolor took the first bolt. And the second, and the third.
Whether they wanted to kill her the most or wanted her suffering to end the quickest they focused their fire on her. The screams were unimaginable. The calm composed facade of the condemned gave way to terror as bolts ripped apart flesh. Her organs were punctured and her bones splintered, her screams split the crisp morning air and every child in Murdefarmed began crying in unison. Desperate to end it all someone threw a woodcutters axe in. She threw up her arm to protect herself but the arm was hacked clean in two.
Another axe, this one struck her head unimpeded. The blow nearly decapitated her but she clung to life.
The others were frantic now, they clawed at the walls offering bribes, threats, and desperate pleas to anyone who would hear them. Finally a mighty toss pierced her skull and all at once the chorus of screams had one less voice.
Atir went next. A marksdwarf fed up with the display hurled his crossbow. It struck his skull hard enough to kill her instantly.
Ral fell last. Her cheek was torn and her ear was pierced before a shot to the foot took her off her feet. Bolts and weapons pierced her flesh and if she was human she would have died shortly after.
The firing squad walked away. There were none left willing to perpetrate further suffering so I took upon myself the solemn task of covering the execution tank with an awning of stone blocks. When I collasped it death took her instantly but something unexpected happened. Black dust shot up five stories high and threw spectators from the viewing platform like the wrath of an angry God. When the dust cleared Dodok, a hauler lied face down on a pile of weapons next to Ral. The wounded were numerous but it was mostly just a few folks with the wind knocked out of them. A stonecrafter who landed more than five urists from the execution tank was laid out with a pool of blood forming around his shattered skull. He'll probably survive.
Lolor, Zuglar, Ral, Atir. They were the only names on the list. If you happen to be reading this then I want you to know that I know your still out there. It was very important that you thought I was foolish. Thought I was mad. Because I am. But when does madness transcend genius? You will never know. You will never know when it's a trap. Lolor was innocent. I killed her to prove a point, to prove to you that there is nothing I won't destroy. I still hunt you vampire. I know your here. I will find you and you will suffer, you will die screaming. If you run, if you disappear before I can find you I will spare your wretched life. I am Helmet Manorpraised, Murderfarmed belongs to me. As long as you are here you are my enemy and I will watch you die.
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Topic: Murderfarmed, A Farming Village Succession Fort (Overseers Needed) (Read 83248 times)