Excerpts from the diary of Endok Ichedlabor, resident philosopher at Zilirīton.Second granite, of the year hundred and thirteen.
After looking further into the beverage problem I discovered that the brewers had indeed been ordered to make drinks. In fact, there were whole stack of order forms in the breweries. Someone had scribbled a note on top. "Ned barrls, untl then Wer takin a breek."
Needless to say I sent the guard to drag the brewers back to their posts. I also paid the carpenters a little visit about the barrel shortage. They, in turn complained of a lack of wood.
Me: "Last time I checked, there was a whole damn forest outside. Go grab some axes and cut it down."
Urist McCarpenter: "But it's dangerous out there! There's goblins and and squirrels and stuff. We can't go out there, we'll be killed!"
Me: "We have guards don't we? Get them to guard (ahah) you. Now go and cut the forest down."
Urist: "What? All of it?"
Me: "YES. Now go damn you."
Third Granite, of the year hundred and thirteen.
I felt it was my duty to learn every inch of this fortress while I was in charge. I must admit that I hadn't been paying that much attention to the usual goings on in this place, so that had to change. I started exploring some of the less used passages in the depths when I ran into a problem; Many passages had grown full of mushrooms! Probably fungus excelsus, or the tower-cap as it's colloquially known. Fine specimens I might add, but they had to go. What if there was a fire-escape behind those blocked passages? It could be a serious fire hazard!
I spoke with one of the carpenters again today. I was curious as to why we had so little food in store earlier. Apparently, the previous rulers had wasted massive amounts of wood in building some weird monuments to themselves. I almost ordered the damn things pulled down for the industry, but got the better of myself. There's plenty of wood to go around, after all.
Fifth Granite, of the year hundred and thirteen.
The stacks of paperwork have been piling up. So much so that I can't carry them with me anymore. I had to order an office to be built for myself. I usually don't like to have too many possessions, but I had no choice. The requirements of efficient administration must go ahead of personal taste.
Seventh Granite, of the year hundred and thirteen.
I was exploring the lower levels today, and I came across a really strange complex of corridors. Tunnels turning this way and that, joining together and breaking off again, but leading nowhere. I asked one of the masons about it and he gave the most peculiar answer.
Bomrek McMason: "Aye, sah, they be aerial pictures."
Me: "Aerial pictures? You mean you're supposed to look at them from the air?"
Bomrek: "Aye, thas right."
Me: "But it's underground."
Bomrek: "Aye?"
Me: "But you can't... ugh... nevermind."
I feel like this will be a long year.
Ninth Granite, of the year hundred and thirteen.
I had casually observed that the well room was quite untidy, what with all the muddy sand and that someone should fix it. Dadamh the Artiste stormed into my office today barking something about "Travesty" and "Defiler of the Arts". At first I had no idea what he was talking about, but it turns out that some mason had heard my remarks and was rebuilding the floor. Apparently there were some original Dadamh engravings under all that muck, and the builders had destroyed them while fixing the floor.
Eventually I managed to calm Dadamh down by explaining that all art is, after all, transitory, and those were early period Dadamhs. In the end I had to promise to commission some work from him in the future.
Tenth Granite, of the year one hundred and thirteen.
The fortress suffered an attack today. The woodcutters ran back into the fortress screaming for help, but the elite guards that were assigned to the place were already on the job. I'm told it was Aquizzars squad, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. The squad eliminated two attacking goblin squads with no casualties, while the third squad managed to escape. I paid a visit to the battlefield after the fact, and it was quite visceral.
Fifteenth Granite, of the year hundred and thirteen.
The elves arrived today. I managed to listen in while the countess dealt with their ambassador. He wasn't very pleased with our renewed lumber efforts. I guess the old adage "If a dwarf cuts a tree in a forest, and no elf sees it, did it really fall?" was incorrect after all. I'm glad the countess remained firm with the ambassador, and refused to limit our woodcutting.
Our beverage situation has steadily improved since we began our massive lumber efforts. No dwarf has gone thirsty since I became the administrator. I ordered the Dadamh to buy all the food and drinks the elves brought. I guess he doesn't like being ordered around, as the traders are still waiting for him.
Twenty-sixth of Granite, of the year hundred and thirteen.
Finally, Dadamh showed his face at the depot, and purchased my order. Our beverage situation has climbed well clear of last years disaster.
First Slate, of the year hundred and thirteen.
I have a confession to make. I know I make such big fuzz about not caring about worldly possessions, and now I fear I've become a hypocrite. I was walking by the shops today, when I saw the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It was an earring. A beautiful camelbone earring. I had to have it. So now it's lying on my desk next to me as I'm writing this, and I'm unsure what to do with it. No-one must know I have such a thing. I know! I'll hide it in my room (now that I have one).
Fifteenth Slate, of the year hundred and thirteen.
I've been reading "Dissertations on Astronomy" on my spare time and some of the claims it makes are simply preposterous! There is no way they can be correct. And I intend to show it. Yesterday evening I climbed to the top of the fortress to prove my point, but unfortunately I couldn't make out the necessary details from there. I need a better view. I must get higher.
First Felsite, of the year hundred and thirteen.
I've ordered a tower to be built on top of my office. A tower from which I can make observations. I think I will call the Observatory. With that I can show that bloody fool Wagonlached what's what.
The masons expressed skepticism about my design for the tower. I think his exact words were: "Oi! Tha' bloody thing'll fall over in a strong breeze. Yer off yer rocker." But I know my calculations are correct, so I guess he's in for a surprise. Anyway, the builders haven't been complaining that much, after all, I'm the "Booze-hero of Dwarvenkind". I better hope that doesn't go to my head.
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Topic: The Eternal Halls - An Endless Succession Game (Read 215011 times)