Mayor Shorast Darosdastot sighs
She came to Bloodyhells to make friends, to find love, to lead a fun and slow-going life. The Garlic o' Vipers sounded like an ideal place to master the art of telling naughty and beautiful limerics
Now?
'Well, I certainly am slow-going, here.'
'Am I having fun, though? '
...
"Better not think about the no longer living." she mutters and shouts "Hey, Paddleroast! Get over here and pop a hole. Lets crush some undead."
To understand the above events, lets go back a bit:
"Alright! I'm going to serve this fortress well!" declares Imic Udilgeshud, and promptly drops into a well.
Needless to say, some whispered that the fortress was cursed, that the weight of Aluonra itself decided to strike them down at the very moment they tried to steer it.
Shorast naturally realized where this was going, and futilely tried to avert it's course.
"Hey, can I trust you to provide lady a roof, NCommander Roofglaze? "
"Oh no, I couldn't do that. My room's a mess and it is not like I have a close lady." deflects Cilobfikod.
"Oh, you wound me! But you wouldn't need to worry about that, Roofie; With your skill with pick and strong muscles, you can carve a new room every day! Mayoral approval. So how about some
qui pro quo?"
"I-"
"-must go. My fortress needs me."
Fuming, Shorust looks around.
The outpost liaison arrived too far from the caravan guards, who were blocked from helping by merchants.
Only once the merchants made to flee did they get to show their prowess, but by then it was too late.
Impressive, but futile prowess.
All hail the Savanna Titan Bone Surgeon
But lets return to slightly before these ghastly events, dear reader. Shorast feels a poking in her side. Putting down the blocks in her hand, she turns around to see Evaris Notchtin.
"I'm fine with you leading us in more than poetry. Don't really know anybody here well. I hope you have a plan, though?" asks the lithe and young seamstress from the mayor.
"Actually. I do. I feel like all the dwarves I've seen here have been under some kind of influence. I think we should take time to cleanse our bodies and minds, and match the land's current and natural state."
"Hm, some kind of nature worship? Di-" needles Notchtin.
"No." slaps Shorast her away. "The nature of this land is wicked. I hope that our cleansing rituals can cleanse it, or at least help me lift this fog from my mind."
"I doubt you can succeed, but worth trying at least. What do you need?"
"Well, for starters, you can help me nail down the few more valuable pieces we have. "
"Here, this...Well, I suppose near staircase is good enough for now."
"Oh, and try to ask someone about setting up these mechanisms" hands the mayor her seamstress a sheet.
"To be built on z93"
"Well, I'll do." and Notchtin walks off with substantially faster pace than Shorast's.
- - - - - - - -
Flame Paddledroast may not be exactly scholarly. However, the career woman understands exceedingly well her many skills, values, with sharp intuition often allowing her to leap ahead.
In such a situation, it is natural that she already guessed what approaching Shorast would want - and at Shorast's speed, it was quite a time to think.
"You want to get rid of the prisoners."
It was more of a statement than a question.
Shorast merely nodded and said. "Maximum safety, no risks - even if you may perhaps be strongest in fortress."
"Well, I suggest we start topside. Just below the surface first, there's bunch of cages piled against a door, and more in old soil layers."
"Of course, better to double-check that all openings to outside are sealed."
"Hurry up!" shouts Notchtin after Spriggans
"Afterwards, lets get of rid of them on lower areas. I know just the spot."
"Sealed tighter than sea monster's pinchers, and feeling just as hot." smiles Thorast. "Still, one more thing - could you drill few holes nearby?"
"Of course." nods Paddleroast.
The death of caravan weighted on the mind of Erib Rovodunib.
Sure, the milita commander went to stand guard, but couldn't do anything. Who would dare to stand against webber?
'Who indeed, if not me?'
"Alright, miss mayor, I have plans -"
"She's preparing a spiritual cleanup, Erib." pulls Notchtin her aside. "Dare to interrupt her?"
"I'd rather not," says Erib, "but this is important for the future contact with surface."
"Would you want my help with that?" smiles and turns the younger seamstress her tact around.
"I do not need help. I'm the manager, and skilled enough to make my ideas reality by myself if ne-"
The spirited declaration is interrupted by the needler pushing her around with "go and do it, and make it quick!"
'Make it quick, huh. Can't be very elaborate...'
...
Some time later near depot entrance
"Oi, Erib, lets all get together!"
"Already? But even for something so simple, it is nowhere near complete."
"Already! Half the autumn is over already."
"...Very well. At least it will be able to deal a little bit."
And the Mechanic of the fortress goes to join the rest of them in the dance circle. 
That autumn, the invaders decided to mess with different dwarven civilization.
Whether this was welcome or not is not clear at current time.
PS: Oddly, artifact list had one missing claystone grate.
Failed to zoom to it, and it wasn't built or ...Maybe in unrevealed part of map? I dunno. Well, it's not going to be found I guess.
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Topic: Bloodyhells - Succession: Battlefailed #5 (42.06) (Read 140654 times)