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[TheFlame52]

Overseer's Log

I gave a speech today about how we were going to redo the front gate traps. I'm going to be making a lot of steel serrated discs. I'd better get started on that.


OH SHIT THAT MERCHANT IS AT IT AGAIN
SOMEONE DIG HIS BODY UP FROM THE RIVER WHEN IT FREEZES

I let people into the second caverns so we could clean up all the junk in there. I also put some bags in the hospital so people could store medical supplies in there. I'm not sure why this wasn't done before. That brewer is still trying to wash himself. I think people are feeding him. He has an infected nail now.


SHIT A COLOSSAL PINK PANDA
AND SOME TROGS ARE HARASSING DWARVES
I don't have time to ask Danman what the beast's poison does, the thing is right by our dwarves. I send the military to kill it. A trog also killed a baby, but Thane kills it on the way to Gugol.

[announcervoice]Gugol's on his way to the fort now, he's tired of hanging around. Just before Gugol makes it into the entrance to the rest of the fort, he's intercepted by a hammerdwarf! Gugol stops to kill a fish cleaner, as he blows out a cloud of gas. Let's hope the gas isn't deadly. Gugol starts running after the fish cleaner, who is fast as shit, but the hammerdwarf pursues. He is joined by a macedwarf, who bashes Gugol in the eye. An unarmed siege operator joins the fray, but doesn't get off any hits. The macedwarf catches up with Gugol, but he turns and charges back at the macedwarf! The dwarf is knocked over! The macedwarf scrambles backwards, luring the beast towards the rest of the military. Two hammerdwarves and an axedwarf are waiting there. One hammerdwarf jumps a good seven feet into the air, reaches over the beast's head, and claws out Gugol's other eye! What a move! The beast is now completely blind! The other hammerdwarf takes advantage of the situation and breaks Gogul's left arm with a well-placed blow. The axedwarf hacks at the beast's leg, but doesn't make much of an impact. The second hammerdwarf brings his hammer down on Gugol's head with a crack, but it just makes him more pissed off! It doesn't change the fight much, as the first hammerdwarf breaks his other arm. Gogul opens one eye and lets out another cloud of gas, but gets his toe hacked off by the axedwarf for his trouble. Gogul's getting really beat up now, falling over with a broken paw. This looks like the end, folks. Hey, what's that smell? Oh, shit, the macedwarf's starting to swell up and rot! It looks like we're going to have to end this fight ASAP to operate on all involved in the fight. The beast's been blinded again, so it won't use it's gas anymore. Thane, Sir Brenzen, and some kid join the fray. It looks like they want to grab the glory after all the real fighting's over. Mid-swing, the macedwarf, whose name I've learned is Mosus, shouts out that he's naming his mace Shetbethmostod on his bismuth bronze mace. I guess he's afraid he won't live long enough to name it after the fight. After that, the beast keels over dead, but Mosus's blow wasn't what killed him even though it was the last one. Ah well, back to work, folks.[/announcervoice]

After Gogul's death, the rotting dwarves go up to the hospital for treatment. There are six infected: Mosus, the two hammerdwarves, the axedwarf, a siege engineer, and a kid.

The dwarven caravan arrived with the liaison.

He says we can be a duchy. OK.


Again? Really? Well, you can't get at us because you're in the third cavern layer, so ha. Dantheman says your sting causes unconsciousness and dizziness. Also, I saw the crippled brewer in the drinks stockpile today. I guess he takes breaks from trying to wash himself. And speaking of that, all the rotting dwarves got their rot excised. However, the doctors can't reach the rot in their joints, so all six of them will die slow, painful deaths from infection. How nice.

[TheFlame52]

Hey, what should I order from the liaison? Do we really need anything?

[Zaerosz]

Well, do we actually have soap? If not, some lye could come in handy since it's such a hassle to make.

[MDFification]

I was talking about the coin making.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The beasts can actually get in on the 3rd cavern layer. At least, when I kept playing the fort that happened with the fire-spewing beast. I never figured out how they get in though, since I didn't see any holes.

[TheFlame52]

Well, do we actually have soap? If not, some lye could come in handy since it's such a hassle to make.

Yes. That's what the crippled butcher keeps trying to clean himself with.

The beasts can actually get in on the 3rd cavern layer. At least, when I kept playing the fort that happened with the fire-spewing beast. I never figured out how they get in though, since I didn't see any holes.

Well, I won't worry unless they actually get in. I'm pretty sure that if there was a hole, the other two would have found it.

[Deus Asmoth]

It could be a diagonal hole or something weird like that. Doesn't Demongate already have some coins, anyway? I thought Gnorm made some.

[Gnorm]

I was talking about the coin making.

It could be a diagonal hole or something weird like that. Doesn't Demongate already have some coins, anyway? I thought Gnorm made some.

I like coins.

[FallenAngel]

Do the coins have spiders on them?

[danmanthedog]

Or lizard snails or how about the newly made pest called the hamster-leeches!

[Gnorm]

Gnora's Journal
Soldier of Fortune
--
Vlad was an axe-for-hyre, right? Then why has he become such a leader? Come to think, why would he make himself the leader of the militia? He ain't no small time soldier of fortune, he's a ful-blown warlord! His history is probably full of gruesome crimes, but I can't think of a way to actually learn any of it. Pity, it would be good amo to use against him.

I hear that the visiting diplomat is going to make him a duke. A duke! This joke has gone on far enough. I see no reason why he should join the nobility and reign over this fort. If only he didn't have every-one under his thum.

[peregarrett]

Cornelius met the Miasmic Procession at doors of the hospital
-Shit, guys, you stink like zombies. I better find you a closed corner so you don't infect the whole hospital... Oh well, the treatment. Take these bandages and this barrel, dip cloth into rum and wash your wounds with it. Hope this stops the decease spreading, and if rum helps dwarf per os it should aslo help per dermis. So, take your places and help yourselves. - Mumbles to himself- ... Gotta prepare my surgical tools in case the gangrene spreads...

[TheFlame52]

Except it's more like "You guys are rotting from the outside in? Time to remove your skin!" *screams* "Well, you're better now. Time to get up!" "Wow, thanks, doc!"

[MDFification]

His history is probably full of gruesome crimes.

He once stole a loaf of bread to feed his sister's family, and then Russel Crowe hunted him down a dead guy's boots. I guess we can add other crimes like lewd behavior, public drunkenness, assault and batter and loitering if we really want to. No massacres though.

If I had to flesh out Vlad's backstory, I did have this fortress called Savagewinds on a glacier that had to repeatedly fight off goblin necromancers I ended up abandoning out of boredom. Vlad's company subsuquently is hired to defend the joint, loses, and flees to the known world. He's been working as a small-time guard ever since.

His transformation into an actually effective leader is probably because he worships the god of rulership. Which is a deity we have, apparently. It's like the church of Realpolitik, headed by its prophet Machiavelli.

EDIT: OP up to date, although it's probably my last one. Exams have started up.

[Rhaken]

For what felt like the first time in months, Tarmid left the privacy of his office. He had become something of a recluse since the visit from Master Urist, staying within his chambers and leaving only to lecture and attend evening prayers. He took his meals within his study, brought in by whomever was kind enough to remember that scribes need to eat too. At one point, Tarmid had forgotten to eat for two days since nobody came by to remind him.

The Apocrypha was taking most of his time these days. The secrets within were heretical, and many were doubtless lies. Others made a frightening amount of sense, and it took all of Tarmid's considerable force of will to remain unaffected. He had learned forbidden truths that had shaped history throughout the centuries, facts that his mind was too feeble to grasp unaided. But actual reading of the books of secrets took far less of his time than the bulk of his work: decrypting the damned things. Such volumes were encoded in such a way as to be illegible without a great deal of effort. At first, it took him three weeks to decypher a single sentence, but now it took less than an hour. Which was still unnacceptably slow.

The scribe made his way through Demongate's stone halls, a gaunt figure in a heavy leather robe. Every dwarf he passed flashed him a look of concern. He was a kind teacher to many of them, and they probably worried about his sunken eyes and fleshless frame, his umber skin stretched over his bones like parchment on a drying rack. He moved with the stiffness of one who spends far too long in a seated position, and what little muscle he had acquired since he took up the crossbow had fallen away to nothing. Tarmid absent-mindedly reflected that he would make a pathetically stringy meal for any creature who attacked him.

He walked toward the hospital, aiming to speak to Cornelius. Tarmid's internal clock was scrambled from irregular sleep cycles, and he had no idea if it was time for Evening Prayers yet. He entered the mudstone double doors and ran into a frightening scenario.

A considerable group of dwarves were bedridden, groaning. Their pig tail blankets did nothing to hide their considerable bloat, and what little flesh could be seen was beginning to rot. One such dwarf, no more than a child, was wrapped in bandages from head to toe. A tray of excised skin and flesh sat on the bedside table. The whole room smelled of soap and blood and necrosis. Tarmid spotted Cornelius besides one of the beds, in full medical garb, a belt of medical implements at his waist. He was hunched over a suffering dwarf, who must be a soldier if the heap of armor at the foot of the bed was any indication. Cornelius's skilled hands drove a scalpel into flesh in slow, precise motions as he excised infected and rotting tissue. His patient seemed to exert a tremendous force of will to remain still and silent. Tarmid just stood there, cobalt eyes open wide, patiently waiting for Cornelius to finish.

It took over an hour. All around him as he waited, Tarmid stood alone in a roiling sea of nurses going about their duties. Excised tissue was isolated into samples or thrown away, patients were soaped down and bathed, fresh bandages and supplies brought in from the stockpiles. Only when Cornelius was finished dressing the soldier in clean bandages fragant with soap did Tarmid speak up.

"What happened here?"

"Forgotten beast attack," said the Padre, washing his hands in a bowl of water. "Not sure if I can be at evening prayers tonight. Three patients left to operate." The Padre paused to look Tarmid up and down, copper eyes scanning the scribe with a doctor's insight. "You look deader than my patients. What gives?"

"I forgot to eat again," Tarmid explained. Cornelius sighed.

"Well, go get some food then. Nobody wants you to work yourself to death, as I'm sure you'll end up doing eventually."

Tarmid nodded and shuffled out of the hospital. His feet dragged him to the pantries, where he helped himself to whatever was in the first barrel of food to cross his path. He didn't even bother to register what he was wolfing down, just that it tasted amazing and went filled him like a dream of tomorrow. He then made his way to the chapel to prepare for evening prayers.

A few hours later Tarmid found himself in Cornelius's chapel. It was yet too early for the Evening Prayer Group to meet, but Sir Brenzen was already seated, a corked bottle of dwarven wine in hand. Tarmid could see the concern hiding behind the knight's normally stern demeanor.

"Early start, Sir Brenzen?"

"Yes." The High Magebane gave Tarmid a look normally reserved for his squires. "Sit, Tarmid. We need to talk."

Tarmid arched an eyebrow, and took the seat next to Brenzen. The knight's eyes stayed with him throughout.

"You are beginning to worry me, Loremaster," Brenzen told him. "We hardly see you, you barely eat anymore, and you've begun to neglect some of your duties."

Tarmid's eyebrows flew to the ceiling. "I have? How? I still give lessons. I still manage work orders, and I'm still doing what the Master asked of me. What am I neglecting?"

"Me."

The stern reply threw the scribe off his guard. "I'm not sure I follow."

"My instruction as High Magebane, Tarmid. Every time I visit your office, you're either so deep in a book that you don't hear me, or collapsed on the desk and completely unresponsive. You are doing entirely too much work and burning yourself out. And I'm not sure if you've noticed, but you look more dead than alive."

"Huh." Tarmid took in Brenzen's words, stroking his beard. He took a mental note to trim that messy thing before it attracted lice. "I guess you're right. But what am I to do? My work is already progressing far too slowly. I wanted answers over a year ago, but at this rate I won't be done for another decade. And if I neglect my other duties, they simply won't get done." There was something else, Tarmid felt, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"I believe I have an answer to that," came a voice from the doorway. Scribe and knight turned toward the entrance and spotted Thane, a small keg in her arms, Vlad close behind her. Tarmid flashed her a searching look, and she replied with a grin.


Flame, care to listen to a request from a resident?

Tarmid wants to induct a couple of apprentices into the Order. They would be ordained as scribes and placed in his squad, to help Tarmid carry out some duties, like archiving and small research. To this end, the weapon rack in Gnora's office should be moved to an empty room across the hall, and the room should be made into the new barracks of the Scribes. Ideally, it should have a bunch of cabinets and not much else.

I'd also request that you move the gem windows in Gnora/Vlad's office into Tarmid's. Preferably, with the exact same gems, or at least one made entirely of bloodstone and another of wood opal. In-universe, they've been in Tarmid's office the whole time. I was just so brain-fried when I set them up that I put them in the wrong room.

And good luck, MDFI. I've got mine coming in a week or so.

[MDFification]

ty Rhaken!

...
Stealing Vlad's windows might not be a good idea morale-wise. He gets 'utterly traumatized' when underlings get shinier digs than him. Pretty tacky eh?