"Um... hello? Overseer? Why am I in here? Ooh, this is a nice bridge. And that door too! I like that door."
"Don't worry Elpho. Your suffering will be over soon."
"I'm... um... I'm not sure what you're talking about but it seems like you accidentally locked the door? Overseer? Overseer!"
Metal footsteps echoed on stone in the corridor outside as Quasar moved towards the drowning chamber lever. Before she could pull it however the door burst open and Recon, dungeon master, tavern keeper and former overseer burst in.
"What the hell Dastot?! What do you think you're doing?"
"You don't get to call me that, Recon." Quasar said, glaring.
Recon slowed her pace, approaching the mummified corpse with balled fists.
"I don't care, I just got word from the other overseers that you're
murdering dwarves! Why? For what reason?"
Unexpectedly, the overseer burst out laughing. Genuine, if somewhat rattling and very dusty, laughter. Recon took a step backwards. She'd been warned about this, but none of the other ghouls had ever shown actual emotion before. It was... unsettling.
"Hahahahah! What do you care,
Dungeon Master? They're tantrumers! Criminals! Isn't this how criminals are treated in Smallhands?"
"Don't be ridiculous! The laws are clear, punishment can only be administered by beating, prison, hammer or-"
Recon froze, and Quasar leant in, far too close for comfortable. Recon turned her head away slightly at the musky smell of death coming from the ghouls body.
"Yes, old friend? What's the other one? Do go on.
Tell me."
Recon closed her eyes. "... or exile."
"Exile, heh?
Exile? That's what you call it? Hahahaaaah!
Ten years, Recon. Ten years of torture and starvation and nothing to drink but fucking
tea. Do you know what tea is, Recon?
Do you?"
Recon inhaled deeply. The two dwarves had mostly avoided each other since the day Dastot had been rescued, Recon having returned to her old jobs as a legendary Dyers room and Quasar running around babbling on the craftsfloor. Recon let the breath out in a sigh.
"We didn't know you'd been-"
"It's leaf juice, Recon!
Leaf juice!"
"We didn't know you'd been captured," Recon repeated herself quietly. "When we found out, the overseer sent me to collect you. Now let Elpho go, and we can talk about it, okay Dastot?"
Quasar reached out and grabbed Recon by the collar of her +steel breastplate+, lifting her up and bringing their faces close together. Recon stared defiantly into Quasars blank, dead eyes, sunken into her dessicated face, somehow stared piercingly back.
And then she gave an evil smirk.
"Lies."Finally, Dastot got herself captured by goblins. I'm not rescuing her given her previous conduct and lack of any useful skills. I had myself a little private toast after hours to commemerate the removal of such a troublesome individual in a way nobody suspected.
A note to my successors, don't bother rescuing her. 49532 stress and no skills beyond proficient is not worth the trouble.
With the strength of the dead, Quasar flung Recon across the room, grabbed the flush lever, and pulled.
"Elpho will die and be reborn, as all of Smallhands will! I am the queen of this place, and I will end
all it's suffering in time, but you, Recon?
You will suffer the longest. I'll see to it
personally."
From the other room, the sound of rushing water came in, and Elpho began screaming. Recon didn't bother with words anymore. She tackled the crazed ghoul to the ground, and pulled the lever back.
The sound of rushing water from the adjacent room stopped, and for a moment there was silence. And then...
"Um, overseer? I think there was an accident with the aquifer! Can you let me out, please? There's still an air bubble up near the roof, but..."
In the adjacent room, Recon and Quasar were still wrestling over the control levers.
"Stop this! I know you, Dastot! Even if it was hopeless, you'd want to save Elpho! Right?"
"You know nothing about me!"
"She's not too far gone! You don't need to do this! You don't-"
Recon's voice was choked off as Quasar grabbed her by the throat and flung her away again. A brief chuckle transitioned into a full blown maniacal laugh as she reached out and pulled the control lever.
"No!"
"Hah! I win! I- wait. Oh shit, this is the wrong lever."
*SPLOOSH*
"Aaaaaah!"
"... whoops."
Recon got to her feet, cautiously watching as Quasar thought for a moment, started to speak, then stopped and thought again. Finally she opened her mouth.
"I... uh... so, this is embarrassing, but... what did you mean when you said she wasn't too far gone?"
[three days later]
So, after some... "heated discussion"... with... some of the former overseers... and some reflection upon my actions... I have decided... not to murder Elpho. I think she can yet be saved.
I asked our senior glassmakers Alath, Mateusz, Radiofort and Id to teach her the art. She will be assigned no other tasks and will be given her own forge. She's always wished to create a great work of art, so this is the first step on that road.
She also thanked me for teaching her how to swim. I did not know how to respond to that.
Urist, the Surgeon, still has a ways to go before he is free from the taint of stress. He toppled a farmers workshop and that screw pump I had built from artifact mechanisms at the start of my term as overseer.
He's now running off to start a fist fight. I wonder where he's... oh no. No! Not the adorable beak puppies!
Oh thank goodness. He beat up a Giant Red-winged blackbird and knocked 'Knightwing's teeth out instead. An understandable outburst, given his stress residue, and nothing that cannot be repair- wait.
He destroyed the work orders that were in those workshops! Fuck! Lock that arsehole up! He can wait off the rest of that stress in prison.
Welcome back, Solon.
I have begun the process of standardizing the uniforms in Smallhands.
All shoes, mittens, caps, sandals and other non-standard equipment will be taken to the trade depot to be sold. The entire fortress will participate in this endeavor. For the time being, all non-refuse hauling is forbidden. A string of dwarves carries a great many items up to the trade depot. Just in time, by the looks of things...
The traps around the outer wall have been replaced with something a little more formidable. We have no need for more caged goblins. Better to just kill them.
We already have our first evidence that it works..
Heh. Fucking swans.
It would have been optimal for Smallhands if this trade caravan had been bringing leather bins, wood, flux and coal. Apparently my luck is contagious, however, because they brought exactly none of those things.
Oh well. Perseverance is not a choice, it is a fact of existence. In exchange for the tsunami of clothing and hoof and bone crafts we intend to swamp the traders under, we shall purchase their steel toys and anvils for melting and maybe some milk to turn into cheese. We will ask the Outpost Liason to order the more important resources for...
... where is the outpost liason? She should have been here by now...
Oh crap!
Oh crap!
Oh crap!