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[dresdor]

Can we turn this into a Plump Helmet Roast Fortress game then?

I pick the Plump Helmet Roast Miner!

[Kazindir]

Can we turn this into a Plump Helmet Roast Fortress game then?

I pick the Plump Helmet Roast Miner!

What?

We have around 20,000 roasts. 

[Keldor]

True - just think - You could have each of those 20000 plump helmet roasts trying to pathfind its "seek plump helmet spawn"

Plump helmet roast has given birth to a plump helmet spawn!

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

I'll take a spot in round five, I'm waiting for my Christmas cash influx to upgrade my ailing rig.

[Keldor]

So, just to confirm, you're passing your turn over to me?

[Kazindir]

I reckon so - he's backing out and requeuing for the next round and hoping the dewarves have eaten a lot of the roasts that are clogging up the hallways by then.

[Maggarg - Eater of chicke]

I reckon so - he's backing out and requeuing for the next round and hoping the dewarves have eaten a lot of the roasts that are clogging up the hallways by then.

Yes.
I'll be upgrading the core of my PC in christmas.

[Keldor]

Oh dear!  The King Consort worships Rakust, the deity of suicide.  O.o

[Keldor]

Excerpts from the diary of Ustuth Elbellogem, King Consort

6th Granite, 1064:

Oh fie!  Travesty!  My poor sweet tootsie lies dead, with not even a soul to lay her to rest!  I am undone!  I must pray to Rakust, that he may guide me through these difficult times.

7th Granite, 1064:

My prayers have been answered, for last night as I slept I did recieve a vision!  Great walls, soaring far above the swamp, stained blood red by the setting sun!  A monument to the glory that is Rakust, god of suicide!  Within these hallowed halls, a tall staircase rises, up and up, for above there is the alter, and the sacred plummet.

Yes!  The vision was clear!  Is not the name of this place Kulettögum, Abbeyverse in the ancient tongue?  It shall be built!  The great Abbey of Rakust!  And there, verses shall be sung, and I shall ascend the stair, to look down upon the mourning masses, ere I perform the most sacred of Rakust's acts, and cast myself forth into oblivion!

Oh, my sweet tootsie, wait but a while, for soon I shall join you.

[Jools]

If you want a death plummet zone, we already *have* a tower up to the top of the Z axis. Dig a pit down to the bedrock next to it, clean up all the mud that *someone* spread over the lower levels, and you should have a perfectly serviceable altar to Rakust.

Obviously I'd prefer that goblins be thrown from it rather than nobles, as that would set a worrying precedent, but obviously its up to you.

[Keldor]

Throwing goblins off the great plunge?  Blasphemy!  One must throw one's self off.  That is the only way that Rakust, deity of suicide would have it!

[Keldor]

Anyone know which level controls the north gate?

[Jools]

One in a little hut by the waterwheels, near the bridge on the south side of the river.

Or you could always take my approach to levers, which is based around putting in your own if you aren't sure what other ones do...

[Keldor]

Journal of Endok Monangbesmar:

7th Granite, 1064:

After some discussion, the site for the King Consort's abbey has been determined.  It will be built on the dry rise between the bridge and the pool of suicide, just northwest of the cursed span.  An apt location if one ever existed.

The area is to be cleared of trees and a trench dug to protect the workers, since the location is outside of the outer walls.



On a brighter note, my carp trap is a complete success!  Since I designed special waterproof cages just for the purpose, it should be safe to close down the traps and extract the fish for training at a later date.

[Keldor]

Journal of Ustuth Elbellogem, King Consort:

7th Granite, 1064:

The nerve of that upstart, that lowly Duke Consort, that of a deceased Duchess nonetheless, to make such demands while my glorious temple to Rakust remains unfinished, nay, unstarted!  What would my tootsie think?  I know what she would think!  She would have this "Jools" dragged off and hammered, that's what she'd do!  Alas that my sweet tootsie is with us no longer, for I fear I do not have the stomach for such things.  Alas that my time here should be plagued with such petty inconvenience, such dealings with the lesser folk as to make me sick.  Oh, if only my sweet tootsie were here!