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[Awayfarer]

I’ve been thinking of trying a story fort for a while, and when I genned this map I got an idea. There is a section of map in the southwest corner that was completely cut off from contact with other civs. There was one fortress there belonging to a dwarven civilization called The Constructive Wire. They’d had a settlement there for years, apparently without the rest of the world finding out. The Red Mansion (dwarves, the civ I'm playing as) and the Constructive Wire (also dwarves) are pretty much smack on top of one another. I figured they’d be rivals.

I’d planned to make a fort in the “New Land” and figured that would be an interesting enough story, but I realized that there would be no contact with other civilizations and I wanted to make it interesting. At one point on the very bottom, the mountain range separating the two lands is only one regional tile wide. I settled a fort here, tunneled through the mountain (whether the tunnel was necessary or not I don’t know, but it’s moot now) and abandoned it. Now the Old World (With all the civs) and the pristine New World are connected.

The site is between an evil/savage swamp and a savage mountain range.




A few notes...

1: The dwarves of the Red Mansion are devout worshipers of Armok. To that end, one dwarf must be sacrificed per year. Additional sacrifices in the form of animals or enemies are also welcome. I may even go with more than one dwarf per year if I feel the need. Sacrifices start in the second year because I'd rather not kill one of the starting 7.

2: Weather and temp were turned off for the first year (I usually play with them off for FPS reasons). I’m going to turn on weather for the second year and see how it goes.

3: The economy and rent are off. Personally I think they’re more aggravation than they’re worth.

4: (Added 02/16/09) Dwarves in fey moods will not be locked in their workshops, regardless of the availability of goods. All moods will be allowed to run their course.

I've already played the first year and one season into the second. I think I'll post up a season at a time. We'll see how it goes. Mostly I'm using this fort as an opportunity to stretch my creativity muscles.

[Awayfarer]

It is a bright, clear day over the middle of the mountain range known as The Warm Spikes. One of the area’s many giant eagles surveys the range from its perch high above the world. The bird of prey takes flight. It wheels in a wide, lazy circle around its peak, but which way does it go?

If it turns north and flies a long way it might see five great fortresses carved into the living rock, with a sort of odd, curling architecture. These strange nests of stone all have little hairy creatures—just small dots from its vantage point—scurrying about. These would not seem to be very good prey for the eagle. It would leave them alone.

If the eagle flies south it sees five more fortresses, but these are different. Three are in one style; the stone carved smooth, fine and flowing. We’ll call this style “Constructive Wire”. Two are in another style, stark and functional. We’ll call it  “Red Mansion.” In the plains to the east are innumerable wooden houses lived in by tall creatures. This land is quite crowded.

If the eagle were as perceptive as a human being, it might notice that of all the little hairy creature’s great stone structures, only one of these is built on the western side. There is nothing else built there. It’s almost as if nothing knew of the land to the west of the mountains: nobody but the scurrying creatures of the Constructive Wire, who hold the lone fortress on the western side. The eagle would see that this is a sparsely inhabited land, and would offer good hunting.

A human watching this new world would see untapped resources and wonderful potential for trade. An elf would see unspoiled wilderness to be protected. A dwarf of The Constructive Wire would see their national treasure; something to be kept secret.

A dwarf of The Red Mansion--a devout worshipper of Armok--would see treachery by their kin, an area into which they could expand their realm, the hope of their country and, above all, the seed of their domination

---Prologue---


Two figures stood over a table in a room that, given more light, would be called crimson. As it stood only a single candle gave shape to the area, defining the darkness rather than dispelling it. One of the barely illuminated figures, we’ll call her “Thinshadow” ran a finger over a piece of heavy parchment upon a table.

“Incredible.” Hissed the small voice of Thinshadow. “They really thought they could keep this a secret? How long have they been settled there?”
The other figure, we’ll call him, “Fatshadow” slurped from a goblet. The air around his face reeked of wine.
“Shince the year 98, shire.” Gurgled Fatshadow through the drink. “More ashtounding is the fact that they’ve moved no further into the New Land. There ish only one shettlement on that side and…”

“When did we find out? Why wasn’t I informed?” accused Thinshadow.

“You were out on one of your hunting exshcurshionsh, shire.” A rain of the fat dwarf’s spittle spattered the map. “For four monthsh, you remember your grayshe? You caught a foxsh.”

The thin figure nodded. It really was quite a fine fox. “So when can we begin…”
“I’ve already taken… shorry for the interruption, shire, the liberty of making inroadsh to the New Land. A shquad of minersh wash shent to the shouth, here.” He placed a pudgy finger on the map. “Thish was the thinnesht point of the mountain range. The Conshtructive Wire avoided it. Probably so as not to aroushe shushpishion.” He wiped the map with the back of a glove that, in better light, could be easily seen as being made of fine silk. “We’ve tunneled through in an inconshpicuoush area.”

Thinshadow stroked the braid that hung from her chin. “A tunnel big enough to allow a caravan to pass won’t go unnoticed for long.”
“Yesh. We exshpect that. Which ish why we musht shettle shomewhere as fasht as poshible. Shcushe me a moment.” Fatshadow withdrew a squirming object from his pocket and promptly bit it in half. It screeched. It didn’t stop twitching even as half of it was sliding down the corpulent dwarf's throat.

“That’s disgusting.” Said Thinshadow.

“Live purring maggotsh all the rage in the culinary world, your majeshty.” Said Fatshadow as pieces of oily insect caught in his beard. “Shorry. I wash famished. Ash I was shaying, I’ve located a shuitable shpot for a shettlement. Itsh far, sho it should go unnotished for a while, and the Conshtructive Wire likely won’t contesht our claim.”

Thinshadow nodded. ”Good. Send out an initial group right away.”

“I already have, your majeshty.” And with that two portly hands rolled up the map and placed it in a scroll case. The thin figure blew out the candle. The two bid their goodbyes and left the room: Fatshadow heading in the direction of fortresses’ dining area, and Thinshadow moving towards the baths.

[Boksi]

promptly it in half.

Might want to fix that, eh? Interesting story though.

[Awayfarer]

((Nearly forgot the starting 7))

Kel Stukosetes, Trader

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Olon Ezarmomuz, Woodworker

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Rovod Nakuthmedtob, Farmer

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Stukos Mafollelum, Miner

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Vabok Dodoknecik, Farmer

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Zefon Dakostborik, Miner

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Datan Morulmokez, Woodworker

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Awayfarer]

promptly it in half.

Might want to fix that, eh? Interesting story though.

Fixed it. Thanks.

[Awayfarer]

1: Journal of Kel Razorblown, Expedition Leader

1st Granite, 203: I’ve been instructed to write this journal (and my reports) in a foreign tongue, lest others find it. To that end I will be using the human language of The Tenacious Empire. My orders are to keep this information secret.

We’ve arrived at the site of what will be our new home, dubbed “The Red Tower” by our employer. I question the wisdom of this enterprise. Our caravan was not assigned any guards. When I spoke of this with our employer he noted that I knew a little of swordsdwarfship. I had to reply that due to an oversight I had not been provided with a weapon or any armor. I was told this would be corrected, but it never was. Our food and drink supplies are greater than I’d expected, but I can’t help but notice that their value does not quite equal that of an anvil, a basic shirt of chain mail and a modest short sword. I suspect our supplies have been tampered with.

The region is even harsher than we had been lead to believe. The air stinks of rot. There is no fresh water aside from a few festering ponds. The swamp at the foot of the mountains is dead. There is not a single living plant in the area, meaning that our wood supply is limited to the twisted tree corpses lining the marsh. I dare not even think of how hard it will be to run a metalworking industry here without a suitable coal supply. To the south several troglodytes have emerged from a gaping wound in the earth. Rovod, our resident farmer, saw cave swallowmen circling overhead as we came close. The swallowmen are not the most fearsome creatures on earth, but I still worry as we are outnumbered.

I’m uncertain of what to make of my companions, despite our time together on the journey. Our woodworkers, Datan and Olon fly off the handle at any sign of trouble. Olon puts on a calm face, but it’s a false front. As they say “Woodcutters treat all trouble as timber.” I would confiscate their axes if I didn’t need them. Zefon and Stukos, our miners, seem reasonable enough, and clearly have a sense of duty. They are the only ones I trust. Vabok, one of our planters, oscillates between depression and happiness. She becomes hysterical under even a little stress and I have no confidence in her. Rovod is more stable, but has difficulty focusing on her work

We will need to be careful.


2: Journal of Datan Morulmokez, Woodworker

1st Granite, 203:

Kol’s bejeweled codpiece! What a hellhole this is! I can only give three guesses as to why we’re here.

1: There’s gold and copper just sittin’ there in the hills.
2: It’s far away from the Constructive Wire bastards and maybe they won’t shit a brick when they find out we’re in the New Land.
3: Someone is out of their fucking mind!

Could be all three.

There are some right nasty looking critters prowling around. I’m guessing that me and Olon will have to do cleanup duty if they get close. Not like we’ll have much else to do around here. All the bloody wood is dead!

We’re in a rough way. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the fact that my sentence was shortened for signing up. I don’t trust Kel, and I don’t think she should trust whoever our employer is. One swordsdwarf among all of us and they couldn’t even provide a bloody sword! You can bet somebody pocketed some of the money that went into this trip. The whole thing stinks.

1: Journal of Kel Razorblown, Expedition Leader

8th Granite, 203: We need to get indoors soon. For that matter, we need to carve an indoors to get into. To my surprise we had an extra pick. I’ve taken it in an effort to speed up our entry into the mountain. It feels good to have a solid object in my hands. It will do until I can get a blade.

I’ve assigned myself two of the four war dogs we’ve brought. Olon complained, but if there are any threats it is likely that I will be the one who has to deal with them.


3: Journal of Olon Ezarmomuz, Woodworker

16th Granite, 203: Datan and I were told to go chop some trees to make beds. We’d just about struck down the last one when I saw em’….

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

“Datan” I says, looking at the things through the woods “Grab that last log, and let’s head back.”
“What’s the problem?” he says. I pointed it out to him. I was worried enough when I saw em’, but, nothing should be moving around with all those wounds.
“Blood!” Datan shouted. At this point a lazy eyestalk circled its way in our direction.
“Easy now.” I says “They’re half-slugs and they’re dead. They ain’t gonna be too fast. We can walk away.”

It ain’t the dead slugmen I’m worried about. I seen plenty of dead critters before. Just prefer that they don’t get up and move around.

1: Journal of Kel Razorblown, Expedition Leader

4th Slate, 203: The bedrooms are complete. They’re rough, but they’ll do for now.

I’m still at a loss as to what to do about the slugman corpses shambling through the marsh. As long as they stay out of our way I’m inclined not to risk an attack.

Progress continues in other areas. Rudimentary masonry, carpentry and crafts workshops have been set up I’m not too certain if the soil here will support farms, given that everything is dead. We settled fairly well into the hills and will have to tunnel to get to soil. Every day brings a new oversight or complication, but it is our duty to The Red Mansion to make this place strong. We will not fail.

4: Journal of Vabok Dodoknecik, Farmer

20th Slate, 203: Blood! Blood! Blood! I’m still shaking! Why are we even here!

5: Journal of Zefon Dakostborik, Miner

20th Slate, 203: Vabok had a close call today. We were moving some stone out of the halls when a shadow drops over her.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

She managed to hit the ground in time to just miss the giant eagle as it dove. I ran out screaming and waving my pick at the thing. It’s flown off and is keeping its distance. Wish it had attacked someone other than Vabok. The woman cries if her beard gets tangled. She’s about as stable as a sandcastle.

What a bloody hole! If it weren’t for the pardon of my hammering I’d be long gone by now. Everything here is dead or hostile, or both.

1: Journal of Kel Razorblown, Expedition Leader

22nd Slate, 203: A group of zombie snailmen approach from the south. The dead seem to gravitate here. I don’t know why.

The few remaining ponds have dried up...in a single day. It is hot here, but not so hot that I would have foreseen this happening so rapidly. Some strange force is at work. Rovod said that he felt the ground tremble when it happened. He is given to sudden bouts of imagination, though, so I’m unsure what to make of it.

I grow less comfortable every day. Surely they knew the risks before they sent us here? Perhaps the scouts didn’t examine the area thoroughly enough. I will include all in the report I give to the liaison when he arrives.

2nd Felsite, 203: We saw a snailman ripped to shreds along the southern slope. I am still investigating.

25th Felsite, 203: The corpse is gone, leaving a mysterious trail of slime and blood from the spot in which it lay. Presumably something dragged it away. From my vantagepoint on the plateau I saw what (I believe) the culprit was.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The stinking hulk of an alligator was thrashing about, scaring the nearby troglodytes up to the plateau. Worse still I am certain that the creatures spotted me. They’re milling about not far from where I stood.

26th Felsite, 203: I heard drums last night; a faint, rhythmic thumping that almost seemed to come through the stone itself. Could it be the troglodytes? To my knowledge they aren’t advanced enough to even use simple tools. I don’t know if they have instruments. Even so it seems unlikely that we would be able to hear the underground and at such a distance.

[Boksi]

Setting up the real plot already, are we?

[Awayfarer]

More or less. I have a rough idea of where it's going.

[Awayfarer]

((Posting up summer. The first year's been pretty quiet))

6: Journal of Stukos Mafollelum, Miner

1st Hematite, 203: It’s summer, but the heat here is constant so it’s not like it matters. It’s always stifling. Never seems to get any worse or any better. Like the place is locked into one state of being. Dunno how to explain it.

Kel is calling herself a miner now. Yeah, she’s gotten decent with a pick, but yer not a miner unless it’s actually what you bloody well do for a living. She’s just an officer who’s breaking rocks.

I’d like to start mining out some of the gems we’ve seen, or maybe some of that tetrahedrite, but Kel says she doesn’t trust us enough yet. Deler’s copper teats! The nerve of that woman! Like she’s any damn better!

7: Journal of Rovod Nakuthmedtob, Farmer

28th Hematite, 203: So, maybe I should’ve been working on the little plump helmet patch we got, but hey, we wouldn’t have spotted the little thief if I hadn’t taken a nap outside.

I woke up to a sharp little pain at the base of my throat.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

A kobold stood over me with a pitted and stained copper dagger. It said something like “klurik krilkin mrglibus!”. I couldn’t understand a word. It looked half-crazed.

Thank Amug! Kel ran out with her dogs in tow. The thing ran off, way too fast for her to catch. She lectured me on sleeping on the job, on sleeping outside and on being lazy in general. Sheesh! Lighten up, Kel! It’s not like anybody died!

At this point the jail time I was facing seems almost to have been the better option. I almost mentioned it to Vabok, but I figured it’d be better not to let anyone know. How would they feel to know that they had a crook with them?

Just hope nobody finds my special stash of “longland grass”

1: Journal of Kel Razorblown, Expedition Leader

23rd Malachite, 203: Stukos encountered another kobold while we were putting up a wall around the fortress entryway. I ran outside just in time to see its back.

Why are they here? Judging by their markings they were part of the Klufukukober clan. But the nearest kobold settlement is miles away. This place seems a poor target for thieves.

These two were in terrible shape. They looked thin and ragged, even for kobolds. I can only assume that they followed our caravan here, but then, why wait so long to strike?

5: Journal of Stukos Mafollelum, Miner

26th Galena, 203: I’ve been ordered to set up a pair of stonefall traps at the front entrance. Much as I usually disagree with Kel’s decisions I really can’t fault her here. First zombies, then the giant eagle, then troglodytes and now kobolds. We need more for defense than just Kel’s weak skill with a sword (which is useless without one) and a few war dogs.

Rovod and Vabok are working on some leather and bone armor. Poor start for a soldier, but at least it’s something.

[woose1]

Bork Bork Bork!

Moar pictures please.
(Thats what made Boatmurdered popular)

[Awayfarer]

I'm a complete noob. I failed to take a pic of the site unitl I was already 1.5 years in. I'm actually just about to start Autumn of the second year.

Since there is no chance for me to take pics directly from the game, please enjoy these artists renderings of various scenes.

The site

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Datan spotting the zombie slugman.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The giant eagle swoops over Vabok!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[woose1]

 
Whats with their... beards....?
I really hope that is all beard.

[TheMirth]

It looks like a rather cheery place to be sacrificed to the blood god. 

[Awayfarer]

((Don't be fooled by the cheerful sun! It is the enemy of all dwarfkind!

Posting up the rest of the first year. I really want to get to the Summer of 204. Some "fun" happens then.))

-Autumn-

1: Journal of Kel Razorblown, Expedition Leader

11th Limestone, 203: A caravan has arrived, along with the liason. With our limited free time I’d had Stukos and Zefon make some crafts and mechanisms to send back to the mountain homes as tribute.

I’ve put down my pick in favor of getting more of the administrative work finished, as well as a few other projects. We’re busy working on the perimeter wall. The traders can wait for a while.

26th Limestone, 203: We’ve put a hold on constructing the wall until we finish with the traders. To my dismay they’ve brought no supplies. Rather, they brought supplies but expect us to pay. A small settlement such as this, pay for our basic necessities? Surely there was a miscommunication somewhere. I can’t believe anyone would try to profit so early in a dangerous expedition.

We could ill afford most of the caravan’s goods. I’ve written a formal complaint to the expedition’s financier. As it stands I’ve managed to negotiate for a pair of cheap maces (1 copper, 1 bronze) a spare copper pick, a copper crossbow, some food, a strip of cloth and a bit of leather. All at an exorbitant mark up.

I met with Thikut Puzzletowers, our liaison. It’s incredible how far our great realm has fallen. The Red Mansion’s first ever settlement liaison, Likot Boattreaties, dueled the titan Usle Yorage in the year 12! This dwarf is a far cry from our proud heritage. The sniveling grimeling had the gall to demand we manufacture a number of items for the next caravan. In return I’ve given him two lists: one of requests, the other of grievances. The latter was significantly larger than the former.

Kel meets the liaison

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

But I’m losing my composure. The Red Mansion needs us more than ever. This is an age in which there are no great and legendary heroes. This fortress will succeed even if I must die…even if we all must die. We will do whatever we must to establish ourselves here, whether we become heroes or corpses.

4: Journal of Vabok Dodoknecik, Farmer

19th Sandstone, 203: Oh, Thob! Why have you forsaken me! I’m so sorry for what I did! I’d bring you back if you could! To be sentenced to come here is more torture than the hammering would have been. Kel stirred up a nest of troglodytes several months ago and now they’re slowly drawing closer. We’re doomed!

Vabok

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I had a very nice meal lately.

1: Journal of Kel Razorblown, Expedition Leader

25th Sandstone, 203: Vabok has been crying about the troglodytes for a week now. I’m worried as well, but her behavior is tiresome and it does nothing to help morale. What will all of these new immigrants think when one of their two primary planters is constantly weeping? Rovod’s eyes are always bloodshot too; I wonder if Vabok is starting to rub off on him? I’d hate to believe so.

I’m worried that we have immigrants here at all. We’re not even completely situated yet. Several necessary workshops haven’t been built; we have no stills, no kitchens, no dining area and insufficient stockpiles.

Furthermore, the migrants must have followed close on our heels to arrive here only nine months after we did. We need soldiers here, but we’ve received mostly farmers and peasants. I’ve written up a list of their names and professions, as well as what labors I expect them to perform in addition.

First immigrant wave

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

-Athel Farashnish: Male Milker (Farming, weaving, clothesmaking)
-Mathol Asizezum: Male peasant (Mining, masonry, stone detailing)
-Sibrek Ralukobok: Female brewer (Farming)
-Goden Arkimurdum: Female gem cutter (Masonry, stone detailing)
-Olin Nitigducim: Male peasent (Masonry, stone detailing…but likely military)
-Fath Cilobkin: Female woodcrafter
-Zefon Lelumasob: Male gem setter (Masonry, stone detailing)
-Sodel Kasmistem: Male peasant (unknown, likely military)
--His mule
-Dastot Akilshorast: Male miller (farming, brewing, cooking)

I’ll be taking up the pick again to clear out space for more bedrooms. I’ve heard a few complaints from the immigrants, but if they wanted beds then someone should have notified us of their arrival ahead of time.

I’d like to begin training one or more of these dwarves in military matters, but we simply can’t spare the labor yet.

8: Journal of Zefon Lelumasob, Immigrant

26th Sandstone, 203: We’ve finally arrived at The Red Tower. It’s worse than we’d been told. I don’t even know where to begin. The messenger told us that there would be rooms ready for us when we’d arrived. I expected more out of the place than the small crew that came before us has managed. For that matter, why did they only send seven? This place is hell. There’s no work for a gem setter and I’ve been told to begin work on engraving. Feh. I’m bolting if I don’t see any improvement in the next year.

2: Journal of Datan Morulmokez, Woodworker

14th Timber, 203: It’s nearly winter. Not that you’d know it from the heat.

Kel struck amethyst while mining out more bedrooms. I see her eyeing the cluster and I bet she’s looking to move into better quarters soon. The bitch. I know she’s in charge, but it bugs me that she’s gonna take liberties like that. Who the hell put her in charge anyway? I’m taking out my frustrations on the dead wood in the swamps. Armok help em’ all when we run out of trees.

-Winter-

1: Journal of Kel Razorblown, Expedition Leader

24th Moonstone, 203:
The troglodytes are closer. From the front gate I saw one approach, sniff the air and run off. They’re small but we’re poorly armed and mostly untrained. I don’t like our chances against a direct attack.

Trog party

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

3: Journal of Olon Ezarmomuz, Woodworker

12th Opal, 203: Been bored lately. I’ve snuck down to the marsh to chuck rocks at undead slugmen, but it gets kinda old after a while.

7: Journal of Rovod Nakuthmedtob, Farmer

3rd Obsidian, 203: With the plump helmets out of season I got bored and wandered outside. I went out to the plateau, grabbed a rock to rest my head on and lay down to look at the stars. Olon was out there already doing Amug knows what. We got to talking. There were some cave swallowmen circling in the distance. I shared some longland grass and we got to talking.

Rovod and Olon name the cave swallowmen

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

“Hey Olon, you think the cave swallowmen are like us?”
“What?”
“I mean, like, do they have names? Do they think and dream and…and stuff?” I asked him.
“I s’pose.” Olon replied. “Like…that one” he pointed “That’s like, probably, called Zasit Laborfull.”
“Why?”
“Cause it’s all pregnant looking. Look at the belly on it.” He replied. Sure enough the thing did have bigger stomach. I always thought they laid eggs. Learn something new every day. A lone swallowman came to rest on a dead highwood near the chasm.
“So like, that one we could call, um, “Sigun Manortour” Cause like, it just toured the whole place.” I said.
“It did?” Olon asked.
“Blood! It passed right over us. Man, you’re out of it.” I laughed, and coughed and laughed. And then just laughed.
Olon pointed to another. “So maybe we’ll call that one “Zuglar Speartomes”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Cause…” He explained but I forget what excuse Olon had for it. It was something weird. He’s from Inkpillar. I’ve heard they have an odd sense of humor there.
“So that one.” I continued, “Is Tekkud Bridgeback because it’s back is all arched like a bridge.
“Bridgedpacked?” Olon shouted. He laughed tremendously.
“No, dwarf, “Bridgeback.” But he was still guffawing. Guess he didn’t hear me because now everyone’s calling it “Bridgedpacked,
“And that one” he nodded as his laughter died away. “Is Shorast Jailrelic, cuase it reminds me of why I’m here!” And he laughed even harder.
“Wait, what? Olon, what the blood does that even…”
We heard a loud crack. Not far off one of the cave swallowmen had flown smack into a tree. It took a good five minutes for Olon and I to stop cracking up.
“Ha! We’ll call that one “Erush Plankstops!” We paused a few minutes to catch our breath.
“What about that last one?” Olon asked.
“Um, I dunno. Shorast… Did Last?”
“What? Diedlashed?” Olon exclaims. I swear his hearing is bad. Nonetheless, everyone’s calling that swallowman by that name now.

We gave up after that, even though there were more around. The names have really caught on though.

Olon’s not a bad guy, even if he does get angry a bit easily. He just needs something to keep him calm.

1: Journal of Kel Razorblown, Expedition Leader

28th Obsidian, 203: It is New Year’s Eve. I sit alone in my office filing through the stockpile records with only a cup of wine to keep me company. Here’s to the next year.

Spring is supposed to be a return to life of the things that winter has killed. I suspect that will not be the case here.

[woose1]

Dood, they're liek, trippin' bawls dood.