So, I've been told that, while I was sleeping for a week(what proper dwarf'd go with any less'n five days, I ask ya!), I was passed over for overseer, and
then the right bastards
came back and made me overseer anyways.
So, fine, you bloody dicks, I'll take a look aroun-
Why in the name of
Ballballs the Round Rounded Ball-Ball of Balls tree is there a stockpile for exactly:
up in the north?!
Not jes' tha', but some moron saw fit to store bits o' dwarf, elf, an' human next to th' butcher's! Mind you, I'm gonna chunder right there every time I see a bit o' any o' them lying around. No, you daft twits, don't drop bits o' sentients there!
Don't tell me I'm the least stressed of us, that'll be short-lived at this rate! Right dicks, the lot of you. Think you're hilarious, I bet.
Must have smelled that cursed dead human in the water. Sod off, ya cunts! We gotta get a roof over our heads out here. We got plenty of nickel, let's make our stairs out of that.
And someone collect some clay!
Great, we have more access to soap now.
Well that's bloody lovely. What do you lot expect, coming here? Sure, we aren't using dead trees for jack all, but we aren't using
stone for jack all either! Maybe they'll like some nice axes.
Reg, what the hell is this bloody rubbish you're spewing?
Imic, no, mate, you're not fooling anyone with that. "Dabbling Mason" my arse. (Why is Masonry set on Imic, anyways?)
You cheeky bastards.
If Imic gets to claim 'e's dabbled in masonry, so do I.
Litast, if you pop out a sprog in the forge area, you don't get to complain if it burns in the furnaces.
Moron. - - -
Tenth of Slate, and we've worked through the backlog of outstanding tasks. Now we prepare for the tower. Ash will be stockpiled, and burned to pearlash, before being brought to the furnaces for our great glass floors and walls.