The great fortress of Slysteel was doing very well by its fifth year. We had ample food and a bustling metal industry. We were just putting the finishing engravings of the great warrior Tekkid McBadass in our new living quarters. The site we picked out was home to an absurd amount of gold; more than we knew what do do with, actually. So you might say that things were gong pretty well.
We all could feel that it was almost time to elect a mayor. So we set about at once plating the nobles' quarters in gold. Everything was covered in the stuff. It had golden floors, golden chairs, golden cabinets, golden walls... The dwarf who was elected mayor would surely be living in the lap of luxury. It was enough to make any dwarf hungry to take up politics.
There was one other thing that our fortress had been blessed with, and his name was Doc. At least, that's what we all called him. We were fortunate to have stumbled across the finest doctor in the world. He could mend broken bones, stitch up cuts, and perform complex surgery with his eyes closed. Yes, he was a true miracle worker. So you can imagine his dismay when our manager walked into Doc's room and found a corpse. Doc's pale, lifeless body had been completely drained of blood. None of us had any idea what could have killed a dwarf in such a manner, and no one was around to witness the crime. It was a puzzling mystery.
After a short and sad burial ceremony, we took up our ballots and voted on a mayor. There were several appealing candidates, but most of us were content to vote for our freshly appointed expedition leader. He was a strong, authoritative man who had taken over after our previous leader was smeared across the countryside by a ferocious were-weasel. You can imagine our surprise when he, after being appointed mayor, promptly jumped into the crowd and drained the blood of one of our best Craftdwarves. We were all so stunned at this turn of events that we all stared in bewilderment as Urist McVampyfangs took a seat in his golden throne as mayor of Slysteel.
There was no sheriff in our fortress and no jail, so no formal conviction could be made. But a small group of us refused to let this injustice go unpunished. We were still hurt by the loss of Doc, whose body was barely cold. Vengeance was in order. We decided that an “unfortunate accident” was in store for our new leader. While our beloved mayor was sleeping, I took the liberty of “securing” his door. A team of five dwarfs tunneled through the stone directly above the mayor's golden palace and weakened a chunk of rock. We could hear him. He was awake, and he was not happy. We could hear him pounding on the door, demanding to be let out, but there was no one around to hear him. With one last mighty swing of the pick, the rock was dislodged and the vile murderer was crushed under the weight of the sparkling, golden ceiling...
Miraculously, McVampyfangs survived the “accident.” He was in a bad state, but for all intents and purposes, he was alive. Both of his legs had been shattered and he had lost all use of his jaw. He was placed in the care of our new Head Medical Dwarf, Nursie McFumblefingers. After several months of setting the bones and re-breaking them after they healed poorly, Nursie gave up and had his legs amputated. What a bitter irony, we all thought. If only Doc been around. He could have fixed him up.
McVampyfangs remains our mayor to this day. He doesn't govern too much; he mostly just lays in his golden palace and stares at the hole where his ceiling used to be. And wouldn't you know it? We haven't had to put up with a single mandate in years!
This was quite an exciting game for me. It's just too bad that this fortress fell to a wandering Minotaur. I really need to think about getting my military to train.
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Topic: [STORY] The Vampire Mayor of Slysteel (Read 2428 times)