Clint's Log, 10th Galena 93When I took over the fort was running smoothly, we had more wealth than a dwarf could shake a pick at, and the tomb was content. In less than two short seasons we have hit new highs and sunken to new depths. The joyous news that our founder and leader was to be a Baron was quickly tempered by the actualization of a suspicion long held - that only someone truly insane would embark on a glacier, and only the foolish would follow such a dwarf into what he termed, "our glorious blue tomb". He now wanders the halls with only a right mitten and a right sock, muttering to himself, silencing dwarffolk in his wake.
The beating he administered shortly before his fall into insanity seems to have infected the minds of the commoners. In another fit of clothing rage, an innocent cat was savagely beaten to death by an unknown miscreant.
If I cannot protect the cats, I must resign my post as overseer and militia commander, in shame. For posterity I leave the Yeti Pits...
On the left is the training area. The walls and floor are ice-coated, because I felt it would make the yetis more relaxed to be in a familiar environment, even if it is under several thousand dorf-tons of rock. (This took an ungodly amount of time to construct since the ice melted on-the-freaking-way to the room, so the masons would often arrive with a puddle of cold water in their hands, look at it dumbly and then cancel the job). To the right of the yeti pens are rooms for the Yeti Whisperers (who may pass on their title to their children, Yeti Children), and a dining hall with adjacent prepared food and drink stockpiles. They have no other labours enabled other than animal training.
A future overseer may wish to move other animals into the same training area, or expand on the number of trainers. Oh, and please remove me from my post, and just have me as a regular recruit in the macedwarves. If the Mad One dies, I was thinking his corpse might be hauled into his grotto which is then sealed.
The mayors pissed me off with their demands so I refused to meet their demands.
If The Mad One perishes of his insanity, which the Chief Medical Dwarf tells me is likely, I wish him all the best in the afterlife, and hope he doesn't rip out my lungs.
The save file.