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[Lolfail0009]

He did that last time.

[The Mad Fool]

Yes.  Don't worry if an eldritch manifestation of our own madness leaks into the physical world because that happens every time.  That's reassuring, right?

[chaosgear]

Sorry, I'd love to, but life Terry just struck like lightning. I can't.

Ah, so it was Terry that gave my grandfather a stroke, caused him to start hallucinating, and hasn't let him sleep for three days?

Dangit, Terry, now I have to be with him every second of every day.
Dangit, Terry.

[SanDiego]

We have done it. We have released Him out. Run, run while there is still time.

OOC: Hang tight, chaosgear, most stroke victims gradually return as close to normal as possible, it all depends on their will to learn (speaking from the unfortunate experience with my own grandfather).

[StLeibowitz]

My turn again, eh? I'll play tomorrow, free time for tonight has dropped off to "none".

Sorry about your grandpa, Chaosgear. Hope he recovers.

[StLeibowitz]

Yeah, nevermind. Go ahead and skip me, sorry for making you guys wait a day I've got a paper I've procrastinated on for too long to write.

[The Mad Fool]

From the Journal of The Mad Fool Enshalastesh:
Whispers in the dark....

It took me a long time, but my endeavors are slowly coming to fruition.  I never before realized just how much I had been held back by the petty moralities of my fellow dwarf.  Morality!  Pfah!  As if such sentiment was even relevant, given the magnitude of what I am trying to accomplish.

The Danger Room was quite a breakthrough in it all.  I should have realized it sooner, but it took the collapse of the first fortress for the idea to truly sink in.  Dwarves thrive in adversity.  They grow strong with pain!  The weak die, the strong survive and become stronger.  That is nature.  That is dwarf-kind!  And so, whispers in the dark become the light of inspiration.

I had to dig deep to conceal my activities.  They'll understand eventually, but the time for that is not yet at hand.  The plan is simple, really.  Begin early.  Waste not a second of a Dwarf's life.  And so they are refined, with claw and spear and fire.  The children will grow amidst the wild dogs, and those that claw out from the ravening heap shall be strong by their very birth.  And then they will be baptized.  A baptism of fire, such that they will not fear the flames of hell nor the tips of spears, for their very skin shall be forged from the boiling blood of the deepest earth.  They will train within a rain of blades, until they are nothing but hardened bone, steely muscle, and iron will.  From twenty I will refine one.  From a hundred will emerge five.

And then we will delve deep.  They shall be clad in impervious adamantium, and in their hands will be hammers of purest silver.  The red light of the molten depths will turn blue when reflected upon the axes they draw, and by that light the Voidspawn and the Demons and those blasted vermin kobolds will cower and flee.

They will be my Murdermachines, and they will know no fear.

[Lolfail0009]

From the Journal of The Mad Fool Enshalastesh:
Whispers in the dark....

It took me a long time, but my endeavors are slowly coming to fruition.  I never before realized just how much I had been held back by the petty moralities of my fellow dwarf.  Morality!  Pfah!  As if such sentiment was even relevant, given the magnitude of what I am trying to accomplish.

The Danger Room was quite a breakthrough in it all.  I should have realized it sooner, but it took the collapse of the first fortress for the idea to truly sink in.  Dwarves thrive in adversity.  They grow strong with pain!  The weak die, the strong survive and become stronger.  That is nature.  That is dwarf-kind!  And so, whispers in the dark become the light of inspiration.

I had to dig deep to conceal my activities.  They'll understand eventually, but the time for that is not yet at hand.  The plan is simple, really.  Begin early.  Waste not a second of a Dwarf's life.  And so they are refined, with claw and spear and fire.  The children will grow amidst the wild dogs, and those that claw out from the ravening heap shall be strong by their very birth.  And then they will be baptized.  A baptism of fire, such that they will not fear the flames of hell nor the tips of spears, for their very skin shall be forged from the boiling blood of the deepest earth.  They will train within a rain of blades, until they are nothing but hardened bone, steely muscle, and iron will.  From twenty I will refine one.  From a hundred will emerge five.

And then we will delve deep.  They shall be clad in impervious adamantium, and in their hands will be hammers of purest silver.  The red light of the molten depths will turn blue when reflected upon the axes they draw, and by that light the Voidspawn and the Demons and those blasted vermin kobolds will cower and flee.

They will be my Murdermachines, and they will know no fear.

That... was... fucking... beautiful.

[Mortis]

Sorry, I don't have the time to take a turn right now. When I tried the last save, it only ran at two or three frames per second, then crashed, and my turn would drag out for weeks on what little time I have to play. Sorry.

[Just Some Guy]

Are you gonna use my supersoldier factory idea?

[thegoatgod_pan]

Are you gonna use my supersoldier factory idea?

I started on a little structure to help with it, it is a hatch drop with a lever near the rest of the childcare compound stuff

[Just Some Guy]

It's been three days. Where is everybody?

[gunpowdertea]

Ah,
oh... well.... I always feared it would come to this...
I was on holiday and there were three people before me! I'll download now and start my turn tomorrow... ok?

Cheers!

[kefkakrazy]

Clearly Terry wants to see you play.

[gunpowdertea]

Yeah, and that after he broke my bike. Seriously, I had three broken spokes within three days... plus I was told the frame likely has a crack and the fork is bent (slightly). Not in a good mood, no precious, we are not.
*mutters*