Aban PaddleentersOverseer of ConstructivoryAban steadied herself against the wall of the queen's quarters, taking several long and hard breaths.
Then she began to laugh. Softly at first, but it soon evolved into a giddy, hysterical sort of laughter.
How long had she been waiting for such an opportunity? Forever, maybe. It was the dream of all dwarven architects to design a mountainhome. Constructivory was not 'just' a mountainhome though. It was something even better. Something new, something unprecedented. Something exciting.
Most dwarves saw death and vomit when they looked up into the sky. A few, like Aban, saw opportunity.
She had brought nothing here, eight years ago, but for the clothes on her back. Dreamed to build, and build she did. Minor projects, yes, but whenever a bridge needed building, or a furnace needed measuring, she was there. Architectural permits were a free-for-all – whoever was the first on site got to build, no questions asked. Even then, pickings were still richer than any regular fortress.
But the Overseership, now that was something else.
“Get out,” she commanded a craftsdwarf sitting at his workshop. Upon noticing his reaction, she decided to add, “Says your new overseer.”
Dubiousness morphed into surprise, before the craftsdwarf packed up his things and scurried off leaving the workshop free for Aban’s use. She laughed; she was enjoying overseership already.
Ruler, pencil, paper…
Aban began sketching her plans.
First day of the Overseership.Where the hell was everyone?
Aban wandered the floors of Constructivory like a forlorn haunt, dazed and confused. Where were the haulers? The builders, the artisans, the gears that made a living fortress tick? The fortress was as dead a- Aban froze as she contemplated the brief possibility of goblins. Fear riding up her chest, she descended cautiously down to the base of the tower.
As it turns out, they were all mooching about near the base of the tower. “Hey! Hello? You! Party time is up, time to get to work. I’ve got the plans right here; I need say about 30 dwarves to start fetching me blocks from th-“ She realized nobody was even paying remote attention. “Is anyone listening to me?”
Nearby, a chubby dwarf hollered over from the barely-freezing waters of Japa's swimming pool. “Why should we? Yer just another pawn o’ the queen neways. We’ve had ‘nuff building crappy chickins and demon symbols on the tower. It’s bout time we got a lil’ bit of com-pen-sa-tion, if ye understand what we mean.”
Haulers were not supposed to object to the authority of the overseer! I wanted to yell, but those words escaped me, perhaps for the better. Instead, a flash of irritation came across my face. “What the hell do you guys want?”
A piece of parchment was procured from somewhere within the depths of his tunic. I snapped it up, and scanned the list with an increasing fury.
- Clean pool.
- Clean clothes.
- Nice beds.
- Nice bedrooms.
At the end, scribbled hastily in some bastard script,
Gold cabbies and chesties.Overseer Paddle raised her eyes. The crowd held their collective breaths at the mere prospect of simply having, let alone owning, two such valuable pieces of furniture within the square footage of their currently non-existent rooms.
“Copper,” she finally said.
“Sorry then lass, m’orders were to only accept gold. Guess t-“
“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to them.” With that, she turned towards the motley crowd. “Clean pool, individual rooms, exceptional beds, new clothes, copper cabinets and chests in every room. Do we have a deal?”
The last sentence ringed across the plaza for a solid few seconds, before the first ‘aye’ came in.
Project Log
1st GraniteAfter that little debacle, I decided to show the builders my plans. As per expected, they all think I’m off my rocker; one dwarf even fainted upon hearing the height of the build. But hey, I’m overseer. That and I’ve already promised them whatever the hell they want, so they can’t really complain. One year to sort this mess out, and oh boy what a mess it is.
For starters, we’ve got dead things everywhere. I found a dead yak on the staircase, for friggin’ sake. Considering the impossibility of transporting bovines up and down elevated z-levels, I’m not convinced that the yak cow didn't just decided to up off one day and threw himself down the mineshaft in an act of mercy suicide.
The caverns have apparently been burnt to a crisp years ago – all 3 of them. It’s a desolate wasteland down there. Hell, it’s worse; at least desolate wastelands don’t have titanic beasts from the dawn of time waiting to get the jump on you. We’ve got three.
By Savot, the masonry level... it's like the black hole of orthoclase blocks. I’d order it cleaned, but Uber Pye hisses at me whenever I get close. For now I’m just going to steer clear of that floor, lest I trip on a block and you know, fall and die.
Halfway through my inspection. I wonder if there’s a manual somewhere.
Why do we have so many random things lying about? Like that enormous room which only stores nether cap and kaolinite; some dwarfs are using it as a booze chiller. Or the bunch of orthoclase blocks left out on the adamantine processing level. Heck – there’s even a disturbing pile of skulls and rotten hair near the farms. Maybe there’s an upcoming demonic ritual that I haven’t heard about.
This is just a weird fort.
Also, there are holes everywhere.
Seriously, what if someone falls and dies?
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Topic: // Fall of the Succession Tower: Constructivory \\ (Read 278717 times)