The Life of Gulf the Overseer, Part 2
Rest of write up to follow today, with save uploaded tonight!
7th Slade
"Arright, Brodich, what we got going on today?" Gulf grumbled as he walked up to the former overseer in the dining hall.
"Well, we've got a slight issue with a badger sow blocking the entrance to the memorial room."
"And you can't deal with it because you don't like heights, and someone decided to make the entrance to the memorial hall right next
to the waterfall. The waterfall that caused most of the deaths here." Waving his hand dismissively, Gulf continued, "So why didn't you send the military after the badger?"
Brodich didn't answer, instead he simply pointed at a nearby wall.
"Oh...right...that."
Gulf stood at one edge of the bridge looking ahead, war-hammer in hand. On the other end, the entrance to the memorial hall. To his left, the fortress's mighty waterfall, rushing down until it hit the the ground some hundred meters below. To his right, empty space, nothing to catch him if he fell. In the middle of the bridge, a badger sow, trapped upon the small, thin bridge. Gulf gripped his hammer tightly, and summoned his courage to utter a command: "Oddom Akrullektad! Charge that thing so I don't have to!". And charge Oddom did, charged at the badger, and was instantly batted off the bridge and down the hundred meter drop to his instant death. But the distraction was all Gulf needed, bringing his hammer down upon the beast, Gulf slew the badger, taking all the credit for the glorious kill. "Never liked him much anyway." Gulf sighed, looking over the edge at Oddom's corpse far below.
6th Fellsite
Mayor Aban walked up to Gulf in the dining hall just as the latter was beginning to enjoy his day. "Overseer Gulf, I have some action items for you!" Gulf groaned, why did people always expect him to actually do things as Overseer? "First, some migrants just arrived, bringing the fortress population to 72 (EDIT-59). Second, some Elven traders arrived. Third, I have mandate that the fortress make a low boot!" Gulf took a long pull out of his tankard, glad the previous overseer had made enough bedrooms to house three times that many migrants. "Ok, Mayor Aban, I want you to listen to something. Half of all our exports...are wooden. Wooden crowns, wooden cups, wooden puzzleboxes, whatever. We trade with those tree licking punks, and we'll have an elven commando unit shooting up our noses faster than you can say "Necessary Deforestation"." Gulf stood up, looking the Mayor in the eye. "On top of that, you want us to make ONE low boot? What in the name of Teshkad does one do with ONE BOOT!?" The Mayor didn't even blink. "So...are you going to have the boot made?" Gulf's jaw dropped, was this dwarf deaf? "AM I?! AM I GOING TO FULFILL YOUR STUPID ARBITR-" Gulf stopped himself, getting an idea. A smile crossed the overseer's face. "No, Mayor, I will not make your boot. But you have been begging me for so long to get you an office and dining room, that I think I will grant your request." The Mayor thanked him and exited the dining hall. Gulf snickered to himself, now knowing what he would use that artifact floodgate for.