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[Flar Moonchill]

Dojango speaks first. "Tal Boarddresses: caravan guard. A man barely alive."

Bertrand then addresses the other two, and begins a montage of the three operating on and reconstructing Tal Boarddresses. "Gentledwarves, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to make the world’s first bionic man. Tal Boarddresses will be that man. Better than he was before. Better. Stronger. Faster.”

Genius, first good laugh of the day for me!

[Heavy Flak]

I hope no one here minds, but I think I'm going to outsource all my updates to Jim Groovester, because he's at least 125% funnier than I am.  Well played, friend.  Well played.

[Jim Groovester]

I hope no one here minds, but I think I'm going to outsource all my updates to Jim Groovester, because he's at least 125% funnier than I am.  Well played, friend.  Well played.

Comedy is timing and opportunity, and I had both on my side. As an interesting note, when I looked at the intro video to the Six Million Dollar Man, I saw that Lee Majors' character's legs were being repaired, as well as his arm being replaced, which was an uncanny coincidence with Boarddresses' injuries, so I just had to act.

Of course, I'm flattered by your offer, but I couldn't possibly, oh no. Never. I could never do something like take over one of the best (if not the best) community stories, no. I couldn't possibly. You flatter me too much. You're much too good at it already, no. I couldn't.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 2^nd] of Obsidian, 1067

So many months standing guard over Stravitch's growing construction site, so many months spent coddling the Captain of the Guard, talking to him, diffusing his outbursts.  A subtle change had taken place, one that even Vatek failed to notice, but with so close proximity to one dwarf for so long, Vatek had begun to pick up a few of Stravitch's mannerisms. 

He walked the same way, his feet kicking out slightly, shoulders slightly stooped.  He rubbed under his chin with a thumb when deep in thought, or bared his teeth without thinking when presented with a particularly challenging problem.  Right now, he stood beside Stravitch, and both of them adopted the same stance - their legs spread wide, their centers of gravity lowered, their hands perched insolently on their hips. 

There was a faint from behind them.  Vatek turned quickly - Stravitch did not.  Glacies stood before him, looking sullen and nervous, and behind him stood Aryn, his face hard, his eyes narrowed.  Glacies looked down at a sheet of parchment he held, and gave a resigned sigh, holding it up to the pair.  "It's been recommended that you should shut down this construction site."

Vatek stayed silent, his lips pursed.  Stravitch didn't bother to turn around, and Glacies, after a pause, continued on.  "Of course, with it like it is, we can't tell what it'll be, but I'm sure you've both heard the commoners refer to it as "The Poison Temple".  Aryn recommends that the site be left dormant."

When he was met with silence yet again, Aryn pushed past the book keeper.  "I've let this go on, because I know just how fickle you are.  I thought you'd get bored with the whole thing, Fillwhip, especially since Dodik's little whore-pit is back open.  But as this monstrocity continues to grow, and starts blocking out the sky, I can't stand idly by any longer.  Stop construction, or turn it over to my team so we can make something of worth out of it.  This is your only warning."

That got his attention - and Stravitch quickly turned around, his great brow furrowing.  Both Aryn and Glacies took a step backwards, and Vatek very subtly side-stepped to get outside of his mace range.  There were a few tense seconds, and Stravitch threw his head back, roaring with laughter.

"I'll put you on the guest list when this is finished, Aryn.  Now why don't you both head out, before I put you both to work hauling cinnabar, too?"

[Eita]

I hope no one here minds, but I think I'm going to outsource all my updates to Jim Groovester, because he's at least 125% funnier than I am.  Well played, friend.  Well played.

Comedy is timing and opportunity, and I had both on my side. As an interesting note, when I looked at the intro video to the Six Million Dollar Man, I saw that Lee Majors' character's legs were being repaired, as well as his arm being replaced, which was an uncanny coincidence with Boarddresses' injuries, so I just had to act.

Of course, I'm flattered by your offer, but I couldn't possibly, oh no. Never. I could never do something like take over one of the best (if not the best) community stories, no. I couldn't possibly. You flatter me too much. You're much too good at it already, no. I couldn't.

Me thinks that thou protest too much.

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

Diary of maggarg.
I think I might hide near that poison temple for a while. No-one would think of hiding there, and I've hidden in more toxic places, like the great pitchblende bathouse of Nnung, where a dwarf could go in and lose both his filth and his beard.

[Jim Groovester]

Hikan Riddlewire's notes, kept on his person.
Entry for the week of 1st Obsidian, 1067

Injury total for the week of 1st Obsidian while keeping order: while falling:
Eyes blackened:
|
Jaws punched:

Teeth lost:

Limbs broken:

Total blood loss:
None.

What the hell is going on? Where have all the rioting dwarves gone? I've only punched one person this week, and even that was an accident! I tripped and fell and I happened to get caught up in another dwarf and accidentally punched him in the face on the way down. What the hell is everybody so calm about, when a month ago everyone was running down the halls causing so much trouble? This is intolerable! I need to punch someone!

All the dwarves whose faces I've made my mark on look at me smugly and knowingly as I'm walking down the halls. Is there some kind of game that I'm not in on or something? I feel like I should be watching my back, because I feel like I could get stabbed at any moment. It feels like all the looks they're giving are saying one thing: You're done for.

The killer remains uncaught. I've explored all avenues of investigation, and they've led nowhere. And the killer hasn't struck since the Hammerer a few months ago.

Aryn tried to shut down Stravitch's poison pyramid. That didn't go so well.

With everyone acting so peaceful for some reason, I'll have to resume my usual regimen of intimidation and paranoia inducement. But I'll have to find somebody else to do it on. Maggarg is hiding, but I don't care enough to find him.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 10^th of Obsidian, 1067

Major Merkil sat behind his broad oak desk, his face a stony mask.  Idly he drummed his fingers on top of the wood, hoping he wouldn't have to break the silence.  But when Sulari said nothing after a few minutes, he sighed in defeat, and leaned back in his chair.

"You can't be serious about this.  It's unprecedented."
"I am serious, sir."
Merkil closed his eyes for a brief instant, teeth bared in a grimace.  When he opened them, he wished that his office would be empty, that this would just be a hallucination brought on by his increasingly more severe headaches.  Instead, he only saw Sulari standing in front of his desk in a set of dusty old horse-leather tunic and pants.  A small napsack was slung over her back holding the rest of her meager positions - though he did notice she still wore her gauntlet. 

"This is unprecedented," he lamely repeated.  "Dwarves just don't leave the military.  It's a life commitment."
"Makrond is back to his normal job," Sulari pointed out.
"Makrond took a spear through the lungs, and was laid up for months with a sucking chest wound.  It's a surprise he's still alive.  And as for you?"
"As for me?  I don't feel I'm of use anymore, to the soldiers.  I don't..." She trailed off, and looked away.  Absently she brushed a tear from the corner of eye, images of Snake flitting through her mind.  "I just don't think my heart is in it anymore."

There was another awkward silence, broken by Merkil thumping his thumb on the desk with a sigh.  "Fine, Sulari, fine.  But I don't want this to get out... it'll hurt morale to know one of the most decorated heroes of our fortress has become scared.  If anyone asks, you've... contracted brain parasites, and you don't know how long you have to live."

Sulari lifted one eyebrow, and Merkil shrugged.  "They have them in the forests up north, I hear.  Just repeat that story, and try to keep yourself well, alright?"
"Of course, sir."
"And, ah, Sulari, it's been an honor serving with you."
"You too, sir."

[Groveller]

Zombies and Cyborgs and Clones, oh my!

I'm thinking Groveller would make an excellent clandestine messenger. Just give the kid a message, send him where he needs to go, and then when he gets there, kill him! And the best part is, the next Grov would have no knowledge of the message.

I could really see people (ab)using him like that.

As horrible as that is, it does bring up some very interesting ideas.  I won't use it for this story - that's just much too morbid for a character that's already pushing the boundaries - but having disposable messengers with hundreds of clones is certainly a fascinating prospect. 

Don't hold back on my account!

I'm looking forward to Glacies' return. There's no way the Grovs' situation can go well for him. I wonder, does the new Glacies keep track of them all? Do the stockpile records have an entry for Grovs?

[Glacies]

I don't think the replacement keeps stocks at all.
-------------------------------------------
Burninganus the muscular tunnel

The sheriff sat in his office of smooth obsidian, and admired the engravings on the wall as he flipped through the last of the stockpile records. He slowly drew a finger down the list, until it rested on one entry. "Gnomeblight - 2450.50 units, See plant ref. for brewables." Then, he looked up and grinned.

"So, Feb tells me you're looking for a place called Gatesmaw?"
Glacies nodded.
"That's correct, sir. I used to live there before, um, a disagreement, but I wanted to go collect this invention thing."
"Why? What's so important about this invention?"
"Er. It was supposed to make my job easier."
The sheriff stared at him blankly.

"Y'mean, you got shipwrecked, stranded in the raw hills, forced into book-keeping a ton of gabbro for us, and now you want to go to some god-forsaken fortress probably filled with giant cave spiders...to make your job easier?"
"Um.."
"Fine. Okay. Whatever. Feb said you wanted a map, so here you go. Wasn't there something else you wanted before you left?"
"Right. I want a bodyguard. Someone you can spare from duty to protect me while I look for the analytical machine."
"The wha..? Forget it. I have just the dwarf for you."

The sheriff rose and gestured for Glacies to follow him. The walked through the freshly smoothed halls to a grandly engraved barracks, specked with blood and vomit. They edged around two speardwarves and came toan ancient loking dwarf with a peg-leg and an eye-patch, sleeping under a tiny woolen blanket.

"Sarig. Sarig? SARIG! WAKE UP!"

The olddwarf gave a start and reached for a rusty looking copper scimitar by his bed. "Whh? Elf?? Huhn?" He said.

"Sarig, you're going to go with this dwarf to gatesmaw! It's just what you need, Sarig, a nice trip!"

Glacies tried to scuttle sideways out of the room, but was grabbed by his collar and dragged back.

"Up you get, Sarig! You get up now!"

The old dwarf slowly rose to standing position, and gave them a blank, sleepy stare. The sheriff yelled encouraging things at the veteran until he woke up, and then lunchtime rolled around. They all went to Kadol's dining room for lunch.

Glacies said "So, uhm, Sarig, is it?"
Sarig said "Yeah, that's me. Whatcha going to gatesmaw for, yeah?"
Kadol said "Er. Sarig, you're to accompany Mr. Glacies to gatesmaw, to fight the elves."
Quothe Sarig "Elves?! Where!? I'll stick em', I will!" and jumped to his feet, swinging his scimitar wildly and looking about in a paranoid fashion.

Glacies slowly put his hands over his forehead. and groaned quietly.

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

Diary of maggarg
I think the heat's off.
Riddlewire clearly isn't from one of the places where I may or may not have committed some minor misdemeanor, so I reckon I'm safe.
Also, everyone's preoccupied with this Telamon.
Also this red is getting a bit boring.

[Flar Moonchill]

-------------------------------------------
Burninganus the muscular tunnel

Quothe Sarig "Elves?! Where!? I'll stick em', I will!" and jumped to his feet, swinging his scimitar wildly and looking about in a paranoid fashion.

Glacies slowly put his hands over his forehead. and groaned quietly.

Lol for some reason this reminded me of Corporal Jones from Dads Army! "They don't like it up 'em!"

[Heavy Flak]

I'm looking forward to Glacies' return. There's no way the Grovs' situation can go well for him. I wonder, does the new Glacies keep track of them all? Do the stockpile records have an entry for Grovs?

I don't think the replacement keeps stocks at all.

Glacies is actually 100% correct.  I actually alternate between lowest and low accuracy settings for "Glacies", because really, he couldn't give a damn about stupid things like rocks and mugs! 

Oh, and no one has brought it up, but I want to mention that Sulari leaving the military was both a proof-of-concept to test what Captain Mayday said about removing Champions from service, and as a way to hopefully fix her.  She was turning into Old Major ---- DayCovering in that she refused to go on active duty and fight, and I suspect it's because of a broken heart over Snake... which doesn't make sense because I don't think Toady coded that into his game yet.  I'm still of the belief this fortress is imploding on itself because of all the shit that's been done. 

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

vanishing cloned children, grass in a desert and demons in a church.
Is it any surprised no-one wants to live there anymore?

[Heavy Flak]

From the files of Aryn Estetar
1^st of Granite, 1068

I can't keep track of how many are killed anymore.  My charges are idiots at best, suicidial at worst.  Our screaming shrew of a mayor has another thing to cry about now, as two days before the years end one of her brood wandered into the wastes chasing after "Grov's Ghost" and found himself mauled by camels.  Of course we found new body of the second child, and by all accounts that brat is happily tending to the animals in Jool's zoo.  Whatever.  Children - if they won't build, they're of no use to me.

The last of the retaining wall should be finished within the month, maybe a little later depending on the camel problems.  Howard is itching to get started; his designers eye and attention to detail lost as he broods in the mess hall or busies himself construction magnificent scaffolding. 

I feel that my authority is not respected as much as it should be, in large part to Stravitch ignoring my mandate to stop construction on his Poison Temple.  That will prove to be a large mistake on his part; Once the duties of the new year have settled down (planting, preparing, hauling, finalizing our blueprints completely) I will have him summarily dealt with.  No one is above the mandates of the law - not even the law itself. 

Body Count: 140
Booze: 2500(?)
Prepared Meals: 2000(?)
Wealth: 3,700,000(?)
Note to Self: Have Hikan beat up Glacies, he's shirking his damn duties.

Layout of the Fortress: http://mkv25.net/dfma/map-4415-oceanbled-oceanbled