On the first of Obsidian, word came up from the caverns that a dwarf had spotted a glowing eye in the darkness across the underground sea.

“Is that cavern layer sealed?” asked Commander Udibibesh. “Somebody get me a map.”
We pored over the map, looking to find any entrances to the caverns. I spotted it first:

Great. Nothing like a wooden door for keeping out the horrors that lurk in the deep places of the earth.
“There,” I said, pointing it out to the others. “It’ll be able to batter its way through that in no time.”
“Nicely spotted, Duck,” said Commander Udibibesh. “Looks like we’re going to have to take this sucker out.”
Sigh. I really hate that nickname. A few years back I was badly bitten by a giant olm in the caverns while trying to rescue Captain De. In a misguided attempt to cheer me up, some of my squad mates started joking about how I should have remembered to duck. They talked about all the other things I could duck, too, now that I was injured (training, cleaning, the like). In fact, they said, they’d take to calling me ‘duck’ just so that I’d always be reminded about the importance of ducking.
As if I could ever forget.

We all marched down to the caverns and formed up on the beach, awaiting the arrival of ‘Kafek’.

I won’t bore you with the details of the battle. All the dwarves of the Workclench militia walked away unscathed.

Kafek did not.

When we got back up from the caverns, I headed up to the dining room for a drink, which I sorely needed. I had to go with
water. Like some sort of
elf.

How can we have come to this? What happened to our priorities?
“Why not take it up with Overseer Asmoth?” my wife, Atis, asked me that night. “If we really are out of booze, that could be a real problem! You should tell him he needs to put the brewers to work.”
I had no interest in a conversation with the overseer, but I promised Atis I’d do it anyway. After all, running out of booze
is a problem. Not every dwarf can put up with alcohol withdrawal as well as I can.

The next day, I found Overseer Asmoth in the forges.
“Damn you, I can’t make steel armor if I don’t. Have. Any. Steel!” he was shouting as I approached.

“Now go get some!” The poor hauler who was the target of his ire scurried off, and I walked up to him.
“Overseer Asmoth,” I said, “We’re just about out of liquor. Do you think you could—“
“I gave orders to the brewers two weeks ago,” he interrupted. “There should be plenty to drink.”
“Well, I checked with Fath, and she says there isn’t anything left.”
"It’s not my problem if the brewers aren’t doing their jobs.”
“Actually,” I started, “it sort of is—“
“STEEL DAMN IT!” he shouted again, to nobody in particular.
I clearly wasn’t going to get anything useful out of the overseer, so, since it was my break, I decided to track down the brewers myself.
I was mildly surprised to find them hanging out by the stills and looking bored.
“Oh, we’d love to start brewing again,” one told me when I asked what was going on. “But unless you’ve got some barrels, we won't have anyplace to store it so the only way to get a drink will be to lie down with your mouth open under the condenser while we work."
Although her idea had some appeal, I figured it probably wouldn’t be a great long-term solution.
“There are barrels everywhere,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but they’re all full of crap,” she replied. “We need empty barrels.”
“So where can I get some?” I asked her.
“You’ll have to get somebody to make them.”
“Okay, so, who can make them? A cooper?” I asked. Honestly, would it be too much to ask for people to be just a little bit helpful?
“Nah, just get one of the carpenters to do it. They can make just about anything you want out of wood. Except crossbows, I guess.”
The carpenter’s workshops were empty, but there was an (empty) tray labeled “work orders” there. My break was about to end and I couldn’t hang around, so I found a scrap of paper in my backpack, wrote “Make some barrels” on it with a piece of chalk, and dropped it in the tray. I headed off to combat training, where I forgot all about it.

When the training session was over, I made my way to the dining room, resigned to another day of drinking... water. But to my surprise, the room was full of happy dwarves raising mugs and sloshing a brownish liquid all over the tables, the floor, and themselves.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Bim brewed up a bunch of hard cider!” somebody shouted, before tipping back her mug and nearly drowning herself.
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Topic: Parallel Fortresses Succession Game. | Finished (Read 87940 times)