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[Travis Bickle]

Soap...

Soap is always an important election issue.

The ballot is being sent out now. Please vote when you receive yours.

[Travis Bickle]

After all the dwarves had cast their ballots, the results were revealed as follows: For Pyer, 3 votes; for Radipon, 3 votes; for Casca, 2 votes.

Spoiler: First Ballot Results (click to show/hide)

Thus, the first ballot failed to elect an overseer with over 50% of the vote.

At this point, the election will proceed into a second stage of campaigning before the second ballot is sent out. Any of the three candidates may withdraw or continue to try to court support. Other dwarves may either endorse candidates or throw their own hat into the ring.

[jecowa]

Just curious- a candidate needs more than 50% to win, right? So if the vote results were:

• 4 - 50.00%
• 3 - 37.50%
• 1 - 12.50%

It would still go into a second round, right?

[uber pye]

after seeing the election results, pyer hops off the elector chair and draws on the ground:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

then runs back to his seat and says "More reasons to vote for me!"

[fatcat__25]

With the announcement of a second round of voting, Fatcat takes a chance to speak:
"It seems that indecision has taken a firm hold of this fortress. We can't decide whether a warrior, a soapmaker, or a child can run the fortress the best. This can not be called anything but ludicrous. To end this stalemate, I will expound my opinions.
First, while the little one, Pyer, shows energy and enthusiasm none of the rest of us has, he clearly lacks any sort of foresight in designing and operating a local government. All of his proposals are for grotesquely massive versions of children's toys, and would, at the least, be ugly beyond belief. Also, if all his communication is in the form of drawings, that alone may cause endless chaos.
Second, Casca, an able member of the fortress guard, would normally receive my immediate support. Unfortunately, he pledges allegiance to the Stukist Party, which, for the time being, is too burdened with the legacy of Nephilim's madness to earn my trust. Perhaps with time, this candidate could allay my fears, but for now, it is simply too great a risk.
Thus, by a process of elimination, we arrive with the quietest and most unassuming of our candidates: Radipon, the soapmaker. While his party has, long in the past, been abused as an avenue to power, the perpetrator is long dead by his own actions, and can no longer influence their current candidate. Thus, I pledge my support in this election to Radipon, and the United Soapmaking Advocates. Thank you for your attention."
Satisfied with her speech, Fatcat returns to her seat to await the second ballot.

[Travis Bickle]

Just curious- a candidate needs more than 50% to win, right? So if the vote results were:

• 4 - 50.00%
• 3 - 37.50%
• 1 - 12.50%

It would still go into a second round, right?

Correct. If the same number of people were to vote in the second round as in the first, the number of votes needed to win would be five. The only time when a candidate almost lost with 50% was in the 253 election, though this was avoided when one vote that showed up in the poll as a write-in was discounted from the final count due to being unassigned to any candidate.
Casca suddenly stands up and begins to speak: "I can hardly believe what I am seeing and hearing. Is this what the democratic institutions of Goldsilver are truly like behind closed doors? Amongst three candidates we have one who can hardly write and yet somehow expects to be elected overseer and another who can't honestly be said to have uttered a word as to why we should vote for her. 'Soap'? Is that all she has to offer our fort? As a dwarf who has faced both goblin and elf in combat, I can assure this assembly that we will need much more to defeat our enemies. Those who do not hold myself as an individual in high regard are free to do so as they wish, but I insist that each of you take my words into careful consideration as you cast your next ballot."

Finished with his appeal, Casca once again takes his seat.

[Travis Bickle]

Now that a couple days have passed, it's time to move onto the second round of voting. The second ballot will be sent out shortly.

[Radipon]

I have watched the many who would lead unfold their best of intentions, all to be swept under the ennui of filth that is the dwarven condition. It is time: to wipe the gabbro clean and free ourselves from the shackles of that distant political struggle, the vanities of megalomaniacs. Let us wash ourselves of these regrets, and live up to the name of Goldsilver.

It would be my greatest honor to carry the trust ascribed by the institutions on which this fortress stands. Do the people will this? The water is nice. I am listening.

[Travis Bickle]

Perhaps swayed by her last minute appeal, the second ballot's vote is decidedly in Radipon's favor.

Spoiler: Second Ballot (click to show/hide)

Radipon is thus elected the overseer of Goldsilver for the year 258.

[Radipon]

Your voices have been heard. It is time to clean things up. The soap box and sheet are posted. Even the darkest grievances will be heard. Whether water or tallow, there is always a solution and we will circle ever closer to it.

[uber pye]

Pyer pouts "I hate baths..." but is quickly mollified by a box of crayons. They then run off to commit minor vandalism and other petty crimes that get over looked because a child is doing them.

[Radipon]

1st Granite, 258

The elector lifted my arm in the air, and what passed for a crowd groaned with all the excitement of a freshly gelded draltha. That is what I saw upon regaining consciousness. Before that, I was prepared to retire for the day, about to nestle myself in Nguslu Ticklowness' latest, "Choose the Fortress".


I was hoping to find refuge from the fruits of my regrettable life decisions.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

 Instead, a sharp pain struck my forehead and the world around me went dark. In that interim, I had been elected overseer of Goldsilver, 258. Many ambitious heads had joined this fortress, and perhaps, having exhausted the collective patience, it finally fell to me, the last resort opposed only by the child who scribbled his name onto the ballot's master copy.

As I looked upon the indifferent crowd, a strange new exhilaration bubbled in my chest. My earlobes tingled as the terrible curiosity burned like a magma forge within my soul. Was this my chance? Could I wipe clean the slate, both proverbial and physical? What do these people need? How would we truly set ourselves apart from the bleak economic calculus of The Confining Clasps. It was time to reclaim the fortress, our fortress. The world would see us as something better than just Gold. We needed to be Gold and a little bit more. We needed to be Goldsilver.


Overall, the facilities of the fort were adequate; all food, drink, and bedding was more or less seen to by to and I had no intention of interfering with that which flows. Outside, an Elven host was clattering against the walls, unable to penetrate the mighty stone. There was little of interest on the surface; vegetation was non-existent, and our relationship with the Elves was too soured to want to invite traders. It also didn't help that a Human Lord, Riloth Beemules, was busying himself taunting the attackers from a rampart. He kneeled for a prayer to Ilda Releasedlieves, futile arrow shots deflecting off his metal armament.


4th Granite, 258

The elves retreated, and the front gate was opened to collect the reusables. In this time, the work orders were reviewed. A few of the order processes were missing crucial workshops (chief among them were the Ashery and Mechanic's workshop), or they were locked off (all smelting and smithing). On top of that, skilled laborers had been tasked with hauling duties. They were soon emancipated from such menial work.

26th Granite, 258

It quickly became clear that my position would demand great thought, and in turn a place to do that thinking. Somewhere deep, somewhere clean.

[Radipon]

Had a crash, so materials and images might differ.

[Radipon]

6th Slate, 258

Migrants arrived, despite the danger. I didn't pay much attention to their aptitudes, but was certain they would be just as non-plussed as I at the rank and file of animals traveling to and from their unfenced pasture, tying up handlers ad nauseum. It explained why so little was getting done, and also illuminated the fact that there were just too many... alive. The unclaimed were marked for processing, and their pastures were walled in.



5th Felsite

A fight broke out between a suturer, stonecrafter, and goblin dancer.



The instigator was clear.



He knew what he'd done, and wasted no time sequestering himself to the mines, far from the burning gaze of his peers.




16th Hematite, 258



A human caravan arrived, but the broker was too busy meditating on fortresses. And then meditating on every deity possible. It's time for a new broker, and to take out a lot of trash. The human merchants managed to catch a passerby who was versed in mercantile transactions. Needless to say, they left with a full backlog of tattered clothing whose fuel value alone would drive their kingdom's economy for a decade at least.




For the most part, the fort was setup to run itself.



The only problem is that while production orders made sense, the actuals logistics were gummed up by up excessively vague stockpiles, locked doors, and missing workshops. After 5 months of rooting through stocks and culling animals, productivity shot through the soil.

Spoiler: "Work Complete" (click to show/hide)

Yes. The machine that is Goldsilver only needed some grease, oil and/or tallow based grease. As soon as the giant monarch butterflies would leave us alone...

[Radipon]

10th Malachite, 258


A potentially deadly scenario. The horror vanished from sight immediately, and the order to seal off the caverns shortly followed.


Our stockpile of wood, replenished by the recent caravan, would tide us over. The creature was out there, waiting. While the nearby Troglodytes seemed to pass unharmed, it was too soon to take any chances.


Spirits were high for now. The beast seemed content to settle in one spot. And then roaring was heard.


It had taken a liking to one particular spot and would allow no visitors.

9th Galena, 258

A great tragedy stuck. Maximum Spin, United Action Leader was mortally wounded by the ghost of a Degel, a brewer caught out when the elves first struck. Maximum Spin was returning from a stroll in the corpse field when the spectre ripped his arteries out.