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[CrackFile]

Aryn is what would happen if a normal dwarf fortress player had to exist it their own fort. The dwarves may see a confusing jerkass, but I see a dorf with a vision no less insane as any player's and the will to make hundreds of mostly faceless dwarves carry it out at any cost. Trading with the elves? Giving away crap to the caravans? You can't expect the common dwarf to understand such things, nor can you expect the noble dwarf to approve.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 18^th of Galena, 1072

"Hnnnnk, dead."
"Of course it's dead you freak," Hikan snapped.  "It's head's missing from it's body.  You don't just live through that, no matter how surly you are about it."

Szondi looked up, his eyes seeming to be just two pits of black through the plaster death mask he wore.  Hikan met the gaze, as best he could without something to actually stare at, but found sweat beading up on his neck and back as he stared into this two black voids.  Szondi eventually rose, and brushed the dust off of his knees.  His voice was the same gravely monotone it always was, much to the guardsman's annoyance. 
"Litter of cubs left.  A perfect world to grow up in, near your mothers corpse."
"Stop being so melodramatic," Hikan said.  "Are you going to constantly do this?  Just whine and bitch every time we find something turned up as beetle chow?  Hey, look over there, by the end of the road, it looks like a dog was mangled by a camel.  Maybe we should go investigate it too, and hold a vigil for it."

"Not the same," Szondi replied.  "Unib was a BEAR.  Strong.  Had kill-sheet.  Aryn will be upset; 'till cubs mature.  Besides.  We beat idiot foursome."
"True enough," Hikan conceeded, "The last thing we need is Major Merkil and his squad of misfits bumbling their way through anything we may find."
"Like this," Szondi pointed down to the bears neck, "Throats cut.  Head caved in too.  Done after death."

"Hmm..." Hikan squatted down next to the bear corpse, and examined it.  As described, the bears throat had a large, ragged gash across it that left the stump ragged with meat; the rest of it's body had been mauled by the dread camels during one of their blood orgies.  He wasn't surprised, not really.  Trained beasts like this were often targets.  It was a way to both remove a threat, and put their masters on edge.  Hikan ended up giving a small shrug.

"Skin it quickly.  We need the leather for new armor.  Aryn will be furious, of course, but... his dead bear's intact burial is not equal to a set of new coats for us, right?"
"The living take precedence," Szondi said, as happily as Hikan thought he could muster, before he produced a wickedly sharp thin-bladed knife from his belt. 

[Iituem]

Nooo.... Unib!

But at least there's the promise of a band of successors to maul enemies with.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 16^th of Limestone, 1072

The brawl at the caravans was beginning to get out of hand.  The Fishers, lead by Rinsesilver, were scuffling with the merchants of Stukos Matul, their tempers flaring as every piece of cloth and leather had already been purchased and was in the process of being dumped into the magma.  Akroma and Dojango barely escaped with their skin, hauling bags of loot over their shoulders.

"Think we're safe?" Akroma asked.
Judging the distance, Dojango leaned against a wall.  He was panting in an effort to catch his breath.  "Yeah, we should be fine now."
"How much did YOU get?"

Dojango slung his sack around in front of him and peered inside.  He frowned as he tried to count the jumbled contents, "Maybe... twenty bags of seeds?  Mostly whip vine and fisher berry."
"I got some cave wheat... and none of that is counting the barrels of plump helmet spores we have stored."
"True enough, friend, true enough... quite plentiful."
"Quite plentiful indeed," Akroma said, trailing off.

After a few moments, he asked, his voice taking on a nervous edge, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"It's the only good idea we've had, really.  Why are you questioning it?"

Akroma shrugged.  "We only have a little bit of the Sand left behind, and Bertrand never left us with the exact formula to make more.  To go and... and use it all, in the dome of all places, just seems like a colossal waste."

"Mmm, I get your point," Dojango conceded, "but do you really TRUST the stuff?"
When Akroma frowned, Dojango continued on, "No end up trouble was stirred up by that dreaded sand.  Other than bringing the wastes back to life... what good did it do?  It brought the attention of the Star God, and it's been ressurecting the corpses of animals and goblins and... even Likot, Sgt. Pepper and Valania."

"What are you saying, then?"
"That we need to get rid of it, before something terrible happens.  If the Goblins were to get a hold of it, I... ugh, the thought is horrid.  No, it's best we use it in the Domes, to create a garden for their food.  And if something terrible happens in there?  At least it will be sealed up once it's complete.  Out of sight, out of mind, yeah?"

[CrackFile]

Buy out caravan, dump goods in magma

[Chaoseed]

Introducing mutagenic material into the underwater dome?

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG

[CrackFile]

It will bring the domes to life and make voltron

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 17^th of Timber, 1072

Archin sat at the trestle table, her hair hanging over her eyes as she glared down into her mug of rum.  Sgt. Pepper sat across from her, his meaty hands folded in front of him.  He was still as stone, something that still unnerved the Miner now and again, especially when she paid enough attention to notice the lack of breathing.

"We're screwed," She said, to break the silence.  "Absolutely screwed."
"You worry too much.  That little fool Johnny will rue the day he left us for dead."

Archin slowly lifted her head to scowl at him.  "I don't care about him at all.  He's gone into hiding once again after his safe room flooded, and even if he hadn't, we would have ripped him asunder; if Telamon shows his face again..." She grit her teeth in pure rage, her jaw and cheeks turning red beneath her beard.  After a moment, she calmed enough to speak, "I'm worried that he'll leak our involvement with him to Aryn, Merkil, or Sulari.  He has no evidence, of course, but these Dwarves... when do they ever need it?"

Sgt. Pepper gave an exaggerated shrug.  She was annoyed with the gesture, with his mask-covered face.  With his lack of breathing.  She swatted at the mug, sending rum splattering over the table and onto the floor.  The sudden motion didn't illicit so much as a small jolt from him.

"We have to find him.  Every day longer he spends in hiding is another day he can come back and bend us over the tables.  We.  Have.  To.  Find.  Him!  I'll search the mines and the quarries... you try to get Stravitch to help.  As volatile as he is, I'd feel better knowing he was there was his great mace."

[Flar Moonchill]

The events of the 17^th of Timber, 1072

"We have to find him.  Every day longer he spends in hiding is another day he can come back and bend us over the tables.  We.  Have.  To.  Find.  Him!  I'll search the mines and the quarries... you try to get Stravitch to help.  As volatile as he is, I'd feel better knowing he was there was his great mace."

Johnny boys in for a whole world 'o hurt! :-)

[CrackFile]

Stravitch is proof that having great power doesn't always have to mean slavery to great responsibility.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 7^th of Moonstone, 1072

The foursome of Maggarg, Adol, Merkil, and Likot sat on the battlements, watching the drama unfold below.  All four were off duty from the military proper, and were dressed in their ragged assembly of mercenary-esque uniforms, loose leather jackets and jeancloth.  All except Likot, that is, who never removed her mask or trench-coat.  The Dwarves rarely looked up, and the better part of most evenings were spent loitering on the battlements observing the fortress for issues, for thefts, for assaults, for anything that might need their special set of skills.

What they were watching now was not something they were sure anyone had the skills to handle.

The Duchess was screaming.  She had been that way for nearly an hour now, and her head was covered in blood from the great chunks of hair she had managed to rip out.  Her clothing was in shreds as well, little more than tatters of rags overtop her chunky, mostly nude form.  She would stop at random and drop to the ground, crawling along it as if dodging arrows.  She tossed objects at Dwarves, lathered spit frothing in her mouth and running into her beard.

Most ignored her, or if not, gave her a wide berth.  Aside from throwing small baubles, she never attacked others, and so Merkil had bid the others to stay up top.  This did not set well with Adol.

"We should go put her in chains, for her own safety.  Look what she's doing to herself."
"If a Dwarf doesn't off 'imself to accident or battle, this is how they'll all go out - screaming and covered in filth."
"Your such a ray of sunshine, Maggarg," Adol snapped.
"Someone has to be."

"Hundred paces away, hardly any wind, sun behind me... I could fill that sow with five bolts before she even knew the first had hit home.  She'd be dead on her feet.  Just ask me, sir, please?  Just ask.  You can make a bet if you want.  I lied.  There is just NO way I could make this shot!  You could win a weeks wage, like taking it from a wee babe.  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!"

"I stand corrected," Adol said sourly, "She's a ray of sunshine on our lives."
"She looks like sunshine, all wrapped up in bows of spit and cloth and hair!"

The foursome turned quickly, gawking up at Wilber.  He sat at the top of one of the crenelations, his legs dangling down - none were aware he had even gotten there, or how long he had been.  He didn't seem concerned with them at all, his eyes locked wistfully on the Duchess as she cartwheeled toward the trade depot.  He wiped at his eye briefly before adjusting his hats, a thin top hat wobbled atop the wide brimmed cap he had balanced it. 

"sunshine, boys, jellied sunshine..."

[Chaoseed]

...this group of dwarves is SO fucked up.

Whether that's a compliment or a criticism is left as an exercise to the reader.

[Jim Groovester]

So when is Merkil's gang going to get locked in a workshop by an unethical business man and escape by creating a makeshift armored vehicle that knocks people around but never kills?

[Heavy Flak]

...this group of dwarves is SO fucked up.

Whether that's a compliment or a criticism is left as an exercise to the reader.

I think it's a bit truth about the writer.  So... thank you?

So when is Merkil's gang going to get locked in a workshop by an unethical business man and escape by creating a makeshift armored vehicle that knocks people around but never kills?

ATTENTION, EVERYONE: Jim just ruined the newest story arc, so five months of slow-trickle updates hinting at and eventually leading up to this daring escape have just been scraped.  You all can thank him after lights out. 

[Beeskee]

ATTENTION, EVERYONE: Jim just ruined the newest story arc

* Beeskee hands out the torches and pitchforks...