That will was in the perfect position to become the main bulwark of the fortress' defenses! Right there flanking the main entry way, with the potential to have ballista, catapults and fortifications covering every possible firing arc
There was enough room in there to house the main barracks and a sizable ammunition stockpile.
Put me on the list. I shall rebuild that "eyesore of a hill" into a true defensive Citadel in which entire goblin civilizations will fall before. It will be a bastion of defensive works that will last through the ages.
Although judging by my potential spot, some one will probably beat me to it.
My thoughts exactly. I liked that hill. Damn that ChJees, one more reason to curse his grave. Anywho...
A lot of stuff came up today and I couldn't get much done. I did start though, and I'll try to get at least a season done after work. Until then, plot!
Floors needed polishing, corners needed buffing, and rough stone everywhere needed smoothing. The books always needed keeping too, but Dadam considered them well enough for now, and set back to his hobby. Through the bedchamber halls echoed the yelps of dogs and the din of bored dwarves finding ways to kill time. Nothing seemed to get done anymore, and a malaise had swept through the Eternal Halls as the earth swallowed up one dwarf after another. Of them, three were Dadam's friends, three of the seven who had been sent from the mountainhomes and first struck the earth here.
All the fort suffered under the mad appointee ChJees' short rule, and Dadam knew the fort needed direction. But his management of the fort's first year before Omer officially assumed command had been trying enough, and his current duties just keeping track of the fortress were no easier. Then, in the heavy footsteps ringing down the hall, he somehow knew the question was about to be answered for him.
He looked out into the hall just in time to meet Aqizzar's gaze as he leaned on his inseperable axe. To the extent the burly carpenter had moods, he was clearly sour, Dadam was sure for the same reason.
“Well?” Aqizzar grunted.
“Well... what?” Dadam could only reply.
“Exactly. Omer's dead.”
“So is ChJees, damn him. But what-”
“Antlia's dead.”
Dadam winced. “Look, he-”
“You know why.”
“Calvin is doing her best. She couldn't have-”
“Likot's buried herself in food.”
“She's having a hard time dealing with all this. You can't blame-”
“What are you going to do?”
“I made sure things were settled in. I'm doing my best to-”
“You going to start giving orders?”
Dadam shifted his feet. “Well, with-”
“So, no then.”
Dadam had enough of this. “Alright toughdwarf. What about you?”
“That's what I was figuring,” Aqizzar growled out, and with that, hefted his axe and strolled away. Dadam tried to say he would formalize the issue with the charters, but if Aqizzar heard it he had nothing to add. Dadam wondered how much of an issue Calvin would have with the assumption, but after Antlia's death and the rumors of a curse falling over the office of administrator, he was sure Calvin was as reluctant to keep the title as himself.
Record of the Eternal Halls for 1st of Granite of the year 104My name is Aqizzar Atöldastot, and I have claimed control of this fortress, cursed hole that it is. Work's not getting done, mines aren't being dug, my friends have fallen under the rule of a crazed despot, who died in his own tomb, and I'm the only one left with the spine and the beard to whip this fort back into shape.
Stuff that needs doing-
-Lock up these dogs, ponies, and Armok knows what else dirtying up the halls.
-Get all this junk out of the way and sort out the storage.
-Turn this dusty cave into an actual mountainhome.
-Count beans. Omer didn't like keeping notes, and all the fort's trading acumen died with her.
-Dish out some sense. With my axe. The flat side of course.
-Other inane things. Doubtless they'll come to me soon enough.