Onul, a particularly quiet dwarf, has become king after a "polite discussion with local rivals."
Considering that ever possible entrance has been closed, Onul couldn't possibly have discussed anything with anyone. He could only have talked with the rest of us. This leads me to believe that,
yet again, a major decision was made without any input from yours truly. A secret meeting was held, in some secret chamber, while I was busy planting the quarry nuts. The future of dwarven civilization is at stake, and you fail to consult the leading dwarven chemical scientist? Bah! We deserve whatever comes of this.
My name is Salmeuk, and I am a genius. Four major discoveries in Dwarven chemical engineering can be directly attributed to my work with profane sludges, including the designs for multiple poison-delivery systems simple enough for the average dwarf to use. I have been awarded hundreds of grants, and I would have been awarded hundreds more had I not been captured and thrown into the goblin pits. I thought imprisonment would be a momentary distraction, not the decades-long ordeal it came to be. Even brilliance such as my own couldn't shine past the slick, stone walls of the prison pits, and I slowly wasted away without paper or equipment.
Upon escape, we discovered that us dwarves were the last of our kin. I will admit to experiencing some dark thoughts. I resisted using my emergency chem-capsules, however, and trekked many miles to this muck-covered hillside. We called the outpost Beronam, "Earthshimmered," and things were alright for a time. One particular dwarf took charge, Eva, and as we carved out a minute existence in the evil backwoods of the goblin kingdoms I couldn't help but feel the itch. What is yet another itch among hundreds, you might ask? Beyond the mites and the fleas, the cat-scratches and the muck-scars, the splintered chairs and the sandpaper beds, I felt the itchy compulsion to experiment. To progress.
To perform science.I was just setting up my hidden lab when this Onul business started. So while I was denied my right to a fair say in these going-ons, I am furtively excited that they will provide just the distraction I needed to set things up in privacy. The pig-iron giant poses only a slight roadblock to my studies.
In related news, the nobility have shifted their roles around a bit after the regal announcement.
King Onul told us a little about himself at the crowning ceremony, which was held in the absolute squalor of our dining room.
He was also gracious enough to inform us of his new needs as king.
The nerve! The others quickly capitulated, however, and we set to work on some new rooms.
And so it goes. On our way in, I spotted a strange, blue muck I have never once read about in any scientific compendium. There's grey ooze, black muck, a variety of green slimes, and oozing sludges of all colors, but a
blue muck? It's unheard of! I have a feeling that, should I get my hands on a sample, things might change for the better around here. Permanently.
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If you want to be dwarfed, let me know. Including the King!
Author
Topic: Beronam - An experimental Orichalcum succession game. (Read 10886 times)