And soon it came to pass that it was spring of 211. Rifotkubuk, the great fortress of Blockedlance, had grown into a mighty village. The requirements of running the place were beginning to put a strain on Queen Urist. She convened the triumvirate of power that was Blockedlance's government. Morul the trader and Mafol the Clerk met with Urist in the grand throne room. Urist sat on a platinum throne, sipping sunshine out of her ever present Adamantine mug; Ashokvakist ('Timelaces').
"What I propose is ceding more power to you, Morul. Perhaps you could run the day to day affairs? Just make sure the stockpiles are full, and the vermin are kept out. And if the peasants have a complaint you will be the man they go to. In return I will let you sleep in the old overseer's room."
"Uh, yes your majesty. That sounds very good, thank you!" smiled Morul.
"Yes, we'll do it in a way that makes the peasants feel good...like an election. We'll have you elected mayor!"
"Oh, your majesty, you do me too much justice. Could I really win an election?"
"Sure, you're popular enough! Don't worry, either way, I will make sure you are mayor. I count the votes afterall!" laughed Urist. Morul smiled uneasily.
"Uh, your majesty?" asked Mafol Lanceappears, the Clerk.
"Yes?"
"What new powers should I assume?" he asked happily.
"Oh......ummmm...well, I know! Why don't you assist Morul? You could help him keep the demon rats out of the storeroom, and just make sure this place is kept tidy."
"Well, forgive me your majesty, but that's my job now. I was hoping I could get more responisbilities...and maybe a bigger room?"
"Well Mafol, I - " Urist began. Suddenly, a guard entered the throne room and approached Urist. He whispered something into the Queens ear. "Yes, let them in," she nodded. "Well, gentlemen, we're going to have to cut this short. It appears some more migrants have arrived, including someone who claims to be a 'Dungeon Master'. I shall speak with you again. Congratulations Morul, you can begin moving your stuff into the room right away."
"Yes your majesty!"
Urist went off to meet this Master of Dungeons.
The Dungeon Master's name was Ast Lulledmerchant. She was a worshipper of Ber Steelearthern, the Dyes of Brightness, just as Urist was. But immediately the two did not get along. Urist was hoping the Dungeon Master might take some of the administrative slack off of her hands, but it wasn't to be the case. Ast had no patience for administration, and spent all her time pondering fell beasts and treasure. She had quite opulent tastes. Urist carved a room out for her immediately, but Ast was horribly upset at Urist's accomodations. Ast didn't seem to think Urist was a legitimate Queen. If Ast really was a Dungeon Master, then perhaps she had a fortress somewhere? Perhaps Ast thought herself the rightful heir to the throne of the Ageless Matched Latches?
Urist decided to keep an eye on this one.
Meanwhile, someone carved Urist ANOTHER rose quartz harp. This one was much cooler, however, as it had a picture of a dwarf holding up Ashokvakist, the admantine mug that Urist loved so much.
Before the summer was over, more problems plagued Blockedlance. Morul had come to Urist wondering what to do with a dry well.
'Damnit Morul, YOU are the Mayor! The whole reason I made you mayor was so YOU could deal with this kind of stuff!!! So go deal with it! Build a new damn well somewhere!"
"Well that's the problem, your majesty! The next nearest pool of water is incredibly tiny and weve been using it as a garbage dump for excess animal lard," explained Morul.
Queen Urist, donning her best Marie Antoinette voice, exclaimed, "Then let them drink fat!"
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Topic: Blockedlance - No More Stops Until Ragnarok! (Read 433221 times)