((OOC: OK, I'm posting the save here:
http://dffd.bay12games.com/file.php?id=10807I only made it to winter, but I'm not going to have time to work on this and it's not fair to keep the fort captive. Sorry guys
))
Overseer's Log, AutumnLimestoneWell, the month had barely begun before I got a fresh dose of who-cares:
Why they tell me this stuff I will never know. I ordered construction started on a road, since the trees are getting so thick outside there's going to be a problem soon. If something invades, we won't know about it until it's at the walls! No sooner had they started sorting blocks than a horrible noise came from deep below. It sounded like the fortress was collapsing, but it seems our "visitors" weren't getting along:
Ngoso got the worst of it, and is now dead as a hammer. Good riddance.
Gah!! What did I tell you lot about the trees?!
Rakust is a cheerful enough sort, came bustling in all grins and good humors to tell me that our Baron is now a Duke. Well, that's lovely... just what we need, even bigger nobles. Oh joy, oh bliss. He didn't know much in the way of gossip:
But he did tell me the mountainhome was giving good prices on some stuff:
We gave him some gossip to take with him too, unfortunately... seems ol' Fatty got himself re-elected. I will never know what the others see in that dwarf.
Well, at the end of the month, there was a party.
Supposedly it was to celebrate being a duchy... why, couldn't tell you, but that's what they told me. Then another party; then another. Seemed like every dwarf that passed me in the halls was inviting me to SOMETHING. Couldn't even eat my roast without a bunch of cheering yokels sloshing ale over me as they sang and danced. I hate this job.
SandstoneNot a month can pass without some idiot going bonkers over an item.
This month is no exception. Urvad came running up to me and said:
"You mean migrants? How many?"
"No", he replied, "I said migrant. And I meant it. Just one. Some sort of doctor." Great. More mouths to feed.
TimberAny month named after trees is suspect. Fatty was up to his usual tricks:
And, as if that weren't a big enough pain in the arse, our deceased guest down below got replaced!
I tell you, sometimes it's all too much.
WHY DO THEY... ARGH. I can't take much more of this... one more pointless announcement like that, and I swear I'm going to...
That's it. He sits in a giant pile of everything on earth and swears he can't find what he wants. I'm done. To hell with this. I'm migrating to another fort where I can work on my metal in peace; at least when the forge clangs, something is being made. Faugh!