Good to have you back anyway!
Hopefully it won't get too crazy on your end, eh?
He said that he may be able to be skipped this round. Is NCommander ready?
Since we're waiting for more Carnagecrafts, I might as well include some information that I couldn't fit into the story for my time as overseerer. Consider this a filler episode until someone else bothers to post.
Spoilers are used appropriately, please don't click any of them yet unless you're confirmed to
not be the next overseerer (it's more fun that way
).
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Epilogue - 121:I can't be drunk right now. No, I don't say that with any moral restrictions, I mean this as I'm too busy focusing at my seemingly inane sketches at the side of my mug to bother picking it up to drink. Most dwarves would rather drink from the barrel, but they lack class.
Maybe it was the atmosphere, my office just brings back too many memories. Radical mechanical constructions, werelizard rampages, it was all a bit much. The year was great to me, but professionals (well,
most professionals anyway, since dwarves are just full of exceptions) don't drink on the job, and this office feels a little white collar for me. Time to get my hands dusty and dirty again, but first a drink for nostalgia's sake.
...
He had a bit of charm to me as he sat on the throne beside me, not turned off by the way that I scarfed down boiled plump helmet stew. He glanced casually, and asked "care for a drink?" The male dwarf, with a smile on his face, slid some ale in a pint glass across the table towards me.
I turned my head towards the intrusion, with cheeks stuffed full of delicious veggie goodness and replied, "
You're not drinking this. What's wrong with it?" The dwarf cocked his head playfully. "Nothing as far as I know, maybe a little ale would help... butter you up."
Bits of plump helmet plastered the table as I replied, "I like butter."
The dwarf took this as an opening to sit down, a bit reluctant to sit next to me, or within range of the plump helmet spray. Well, not like that was a problem after I swallowed the last mouthful of food in my bowl. Something seemed off about this setup. I asked him "why did you only bring one pint over here? You want to split it?"
The dwarf replied, "How romantic, but no. I'm still a bit tipsy from the last one I had."
I tried my hardest not to choke on a bit of plump helmet in the back of my throat. "Is there anything stopping you from getting a drink then?"
The dwarf replied, "Believe me, I really could use one."
Well, he wanted to be sober, and he wanted me drunk. Nothing good can come out of this. A bit too straightforward, I asked the dwarf, "Are you going to try to date rape me?"
The dwarf didn't think that I was being funny. "No, actually, I'd like to talk business with you regarding the Mason's Guide."
My eyes rolled. I remembered that nobody but those in power and certain military personnel knew about my time as an overseer. Oh boy, question time.
"It's come to the attention that some of us have... surpassed your masonry skills. We were wondering... what exactly have you been doing the past year?"
Well, my time as an overseer was almost at an end, with this trip being a solitary celebration of my retirement back into the workforce. Still, one day was all that it could take to cause a tantrum spiral, and I don't want to be cause in the middle of Nish slaughtering the entire civilian population.
I reached for the cup of ale, making a point to flex my arm as I did so in front of the fellow mason. "Legendary Mining."
The mason cracked a smile, "But there are no legendary mines."
I retorted, "By whose standards?"
The mason snapped back almost immediately, "Maybe by someone who could view the entire fortress. After all, what's a mine but the ores dug from within it?"
I had a feeling that the Mason's Guild knew that I was unusually sober this year and that nobody else seemed to be taking a direct stance regarding fortress progress. I love my dwarves, but they can't give me a break.
"I'd say that our mines are legendary, being as how they've payed for this dining hall."
The mason leered at me, a bit irritated that his implication was deflected. "So it would seem... But just as well, just how sober is the dwarf making this claim?"
I had hardly noticed that the cup was half-empty. "I'd say she's going to wobble a bit when she walks back into the workshops." I added, "Maybe a little too drunk to remember your name?"
The mason forced a chuckle. "I know you remember the names of each member of the Mason's Guild, you've interrupted us numerous times for parties. Why such a silly question?"
I replied, looking the mason dead in the eyes with a soft expression. "Maybe I want to hear it roll off of that sharp, sweet tongue of yours."
Maybe I was a little drunk, for I couldn't tell if the mason's smile was sincere. "You can call me Kogan Urdimdumat."
My eyes shot open wide. "I may call you by?"
The mason seemed to cringe a little, "What's wrong with that?"
The silence of my hanging jaw was enough of a reply.
He was appalled by my shocked expression. "...Is that an odd name?"
There is no way I could have been drunk right now. A drunk dwarf would not be able to sit here and fear for her life while her mind races, recognizing the fact that a cold-blooded murde- no, a monster stood in front of her and had plans for her guild after her death. I really wish I was drunk, though.
I replied, almost quiet enough to have made a whisper, "I asked you what your name was, not what to call you by."
The dwarf's shoulders hunched. "Well, it's my name, regardless of syntax."
The dwarf stood up, glaring me in the eyes as he turned around and left the dinning hall. I sat there for a moment, slowly releasing the empty flask from my grasp and rubbing the back of my sweaty neck.
With the conversation ending, the dwarf returned to meet with another dwarf waiting at the entrance of the dining hall. The two spoke, and I noticed them dart eyes back and forth towards me. The other dwarf looked like a mason from the guild. He probably wasn't one of... them... but he still assured me indirectly that the Mason's Guild all but confirmed my position as Overseer.
The two shortly afterwards decided to leave the dining hall, probably to head back to the workshops. I stood up as well, not bothering to pick up the empty cup on the floor. A cat was blissfully playing with it.
Thinking that it was perhaps time for another visit to see Nish, I heard a voice from the statues speak out to me.
"Why did you, Magnus?"
I spotted the real Brisby out of the statues in the Brisby corner. "Why did I what?"
Brisby walked casually to me, determined to keep his composure. He replied, "Why did you call me a pussy before you understood the danger that we were in?"
I put my hand in my pocket. "You don't mean Sold or the vampire, do you?"
Brisby didn't even bother forcing a chuckle. He tossed me a glove as he replied, "Not indirectly, but Sold does play a part in this."
I gave the glove a once-over before putting it on. Sold most likely couldn't have worn this, so I don't know what Brisby meant by this. "What do you mean?"
Brisby lit a cigarette. How he got a hold of one is anyone's guess. "Inside of the glove there's a branding symbol. I've been told by Rith that it looks Goblin in origin; Sold slaughtered a goblin invasion from the Mahogany Midnight."
I took the glove off, trusting Brisby enough to not bother to look inside the glove. "That only partially explains the dwarf and human in the last siege. Am I wrong in assuming it's the same Mahogany Midnight that worried Wickys?"
Brisby leaned against a statue of himself. "What a silly question. A better one is 'should Wickys know?'"
I had an answer for this one, "I don't think that she could handle it. Besides, any alerts should soon be sent to the Duchess anyway after my deal with Wickys expires tomorrow."
Brisby replied, "Wickys is a woman?"
I shrugged. "I didn't know either until I watched her pee."
Brisby and I stared at our upper torsos and heads, away from the crotch area on that note. Eager to return to the subject, he asked, "The same Mahogany Midnight that went on a warpath a few years ago?"
Sensing rhetoric in his question, I said "Would the same Mahogany Midnight attack again with a larger invasion force? Did Sold take down only a scouting party?"
Brisby bit his lip and stood straight, "Am I still a 'pussy' for worrying about that?"
How un-dwarven like. "Yes, yes you are."
Brisby smiled, taking the joke with a grain of salt and leaving to blend in with the crowds in the dining hall.
Nish was doing his usual jail routine. I stopped to glance within his cell.
Immediately afterwards I returned to my office to quickly scribble down on the last page of my logbook the name of our vampire. I closed the book and set it on top of a stack of cluttered files in my office and went to my bedroom. The clock was about to strike midnight, but without anyone to guard me I remained laying in my bed, with every creek outside of my door raising a biological alarm, and with each shadow case from under the doorway a skipped heartbeat. With the one that stopped outside my door, completely devoid of any noise from either inside or outside the room, I slowly started to list off my regrets in life in my mind.
I decided that it was within my plans to casually learn later how to wield an axe after the cow pushed through my doorway into my room. Oh great bovine guardian, please stand in front of my doorway while I close my eyes for a few hours...