I finally have enough for an update, now I can go to bed
We're going to be fucking screwed if our guardian pond transforms at some point and comes to destroy us with it's ungodly might. And then it'll turn back into a pond in the middle of the fort, making an awfully inconvenient mess, which would also suck.
Hahaha, this image is as bizarre as it is hilarious, or possibly vice versa.
Not only do you have a dwarf, you also have your charizard.
Glass does indeed have a Charizard.
I tried to draw Nopal, but I had no idea what weapon he had because so little enemies have been killed by anything other than the pond I forgot.
Nopal is a Legendary Macedwarf.
Deep in the bowels beneath GoldSilver, lurks something half forgotten.
Sometimes I switch to its level and just watch it throw fire around at nothing for a while.
Excerpts from
A Million Little Pichus: A Memoir, by Maximum Spin Valecrafts:
...but it wasn't more than a few seconds before I had to stop watching and shout down to the assembling soldiers to belay that order: Goldsilver would be defended not by cold iron, it turned out, but by glumprong.
I had just begun to relax from this anticlimax when another cry went up, this time informing me that a Marksdwarf from the Decidueye Rangers, Birdy's squad, had been embroiled with a Slugma in the caverns. This was not an uncommon experience lately, since I had reopened operations on the magma pipe, so at first I dismissed it. Then, though, the messenger clarified: he meant to say that a Marksdwarf had been
broiled by a Slugma in the caverns.
It seemed that the man had previously managed to kill a Magcargo on his own, but now the lesser form had laid him low, and it was altogether too late for him now. Still, with the Slugma on the loose, it was necessary for me to run down to try to keep the problem contained.
The situation in the caverns continued to unfold as idiots ran into and out of the fire in all directions, though thus far only the late hunter had managed to catch fire personally. Even Paddywagon Man, normally a bastion of rationality, nearly charged into the flames to fetch some item for storage before seeing the (now several) Slugma and coming to her senses. Then, suddenly, I saw that some of the slugma were killed – not by dwarves, but by a wild Garchomp that had apparently taken a territorial attitude. For a moment, I wasn't sure which was more dangerous, and I worried that the valuable Garchomp might perish in the flames – but both fears were unfounded, as the Garchomp continued to barrel along its path, straight into a cage trap. I was starting to think that cage traps, not Mareep, might be the true saviours of Goldsilver.
Once the fire had burnt itself out, I went across to collect the Garchomp cage, but as I began to haul it back toward the staircase, a
second wild Garchomp jumped out of a tree in front of me. Utterly offended by this insubordination, I chased away the Garchomp and it ran screaming in terror.
Meanwhile, Bearskie picked up the cage I had dropped in the process, and later told me that he was accosted along the way by an engraver trying to tame the Garchomp with lettuce leaves. I began to wonder about FirePheonix11's reported "general familiarity" with Garchomp training, but when I asked him about it, he insisted that the Garchomp arrived at the Pokémon pens "skillfully trained" while still in its cage. Who knows, maybe Garchomp really like lettuce? Unfortunately, the Garchomp still in the caverns was a worse problem, as it soon found a victim less intimidating than me to maim, tearing off an unimportant stoneworker's arm. Nothing to send the military in over, but I'd have to keep an eye on the situation lest someone actually useful get hurt.
Mere minutes after I thought that, I heard that the Garchomp had engaged MCreeper. Luckily, as Captain of the Guard, MCreeper was more than capable of handling himself, and the Garchomp got the worst of it.
While all this was happening, I was busy personally attending to the training of RedMageCole's Cranidos, since by then several other dwarves had repeatedly failed to complete the task. I've always believed that the only way to ensure something is done right is to do it oneself, and, of course, when I stopped,
there was damn well a trained Cranidos. I handed the leash to RedMageCole and stomped off to work out my frustration at all these useless layabouts by dragging around a giant pot of fish. People think the life of a gangster is easy, but, in reality, you've got to be willing to get your hands dirty, because you can't trust anyone else to get things done. And when you find someone you
can trust to get things done, like Nopal, it's important to keep them close. And not just because they're the ones most likely to betray you.
In any case, after dealing with the fish pot and my simmering rage, I stood in the tavern for a little while and listened to MottledPetrel tell a story about his Joltik. It was obvious that the story was complete fiction, of course. MottledPetrel's a competent liar, but his skills are more than a little rusty. Still, it was nice to have a little time to relax, and, for the next several days, the most interesting thing happening around Goldsilver was the occasional masterpiece glumprong barrel churned out in the carpentry district. I wasn't sure why previous overseers had decided that it was a good idea to stock the fort exclusively with the heaviest kind of wood in existence, but it didn't really directly impact my business, so I decided to ignore the issue for now, especially since most of the logs were just there to be burned for ash and charcoal these days. At least the haulers were using this time to get the stocks into some semblance of order, although I suspected that any dreams I might have had of streamlining Goldsilver's rambling production chains would be of the "pipe" variety.
A little bit of excitement eventually arose when Glass punched a Slugma to death, but it was pretty fleeting; the beast didn't even set anyone on fire, to my dismay. I spent most of Hematite performing odd jobs and tending to my Combee hives, which were flourishing. This time was hardly unpleasant, but, looking back, I find it difficult to remember anything worth writing about. That changed, though, when the mayoral election came around, and my opportunity arose to replace Paddywagon Man, who, despite being one of my closest friends since before her days as an exotic dancer, had always been perhaps my greatest rival in terms of political power. It wasn't at all hard to arrange the election of MottledPetrel to the station, over whom, you may recall, I had already secured some leverage. I decided to commission a commemorative statue for the occasion.
BTW, I love how my dwarf keeps doing narratively convenient things at just the right times. I didn't have to make up any of those things I said I did!