Opal 10th, continued
Anyway, after sealing up the top, the Hobgoblins moped around outside long enough to scare off the Human traders, then left in late fall, just in time for the shipment from the Mountainhome to make it through.
As our liaison arrived, I was just finishing the wiring of the control room to the last of the magma gates. The miners had long since cleared out the drainage area, and run a tube from part of it down into the caverns below, large enough that overflow should never be an issue no matter how often we open the gates. And if we wipe out the indigenous monster population, so be it. The drainage tank is sealed off from our fortress though, in case of magma-proof flying beasts.
As I was saying, I was just wiring up the last of the drainage gates when the traders arrived. They of course unloaded their goods at the old surface depot. This is where my day went to hell. Three of my miners made the inaugural channel into the magma pipe as the last preparation for the defense system. One of them ran back to safety without incident, but Rith Datandeg was a bit slow and lost his big toe to the magma, and his nose to the spray. He was able to retreat behind the wall, but fainted there and bled all over the fortress once he awoke. Still, it appears he'll make a full recovery.
Zuglar Elbelrovod wasn't so lucky. As soon as he turned around after removing the wall, he slipped on a bit of grabbite and fell over backwards into the onrushing magma. The entire top half of his body was vaporized. I'm not sure who ran off with his remains, but I've constructed a memorial coffin to him, and any other such unfortunates past and future. I've placed the coffin in the magma drainage cistern as the temptation for the children to mar the memorial with graffiti and jokes about clumsiness is too great anywhere else.
While we were holding the funeral, Onul Koganstigaz finally passed away. She had been a well behaved child until one day a strange mood came over her and she began screaming for things we didn't have. She stormed off to the workshops, kicked all the dwarves out, and just sat there. One day when I sent someone in to check on her, she went berserk and almost killed him. So I ordered the doors sealed and set up some traps lest she escape. I knew what I was doing, but it was still a shock to hear her screams finally fall into silence. Her parents will be devastated I'm sure, but I did what I had to do for the good of the fortress.
During all the commotion I nearly forgot about the traders, and our broker had already ignored their request to come trade with them for weeks. As they were packing up to go, I accidentally signed the order to deconstruct the old surface depot. That damned piece of paper had been sitting on my desk for months, since I first began the project. I was still in a bit of shock from the two deaths, and had been dying to do something positive, and making the final symbolic act of my one great accomplishment as ruler seemed like it would cheer me up. I didn't even think about the consequences until the traders left oddly unencumbered. My idiot masons carried away all their stock with the left over stone from the building!
I'm sure the mountainhome will give us shit about it next year, but it's too late to do anything about it now, and I'd rather they make their complaint while standing in a sealable room where one floodgate holds back several tons of molten rock. Exactly like our new interior trade depot.
If that was the last disaster of my day, I might have held off my resignation until the people were fed up with me themselves, but there was one last horror in store. Apparently that little girl's spirit was stronger than her body, because later that day, it took possession of our Trade Broker. He acts like a sullen little girl anyway, so it took everyone a while to notice, but he started making the same outrageous demands as she. I don't want to risk injuring any useful workers if and when he turns violent, so I've already sealed him in his isolated workshop. I locked the door myself, as my last official act as leader. What happens to him next is up to someone else, I'm not sure I have the stomach for that decision anymore. All I know is the bears look a bit malnourished and I think it's all the plump helmets we feed them.
So, whoever picks up the reigns next, best of luck making the hard decisions. I'm going to retire to a leisurely life of wiring levers to various devices, designing bridges, and drowning my sorrows in swamp whisky and hoping I can rid my self of the dreams. That damn dirty, lavender-scaled, dancing ape haunts me every night, and I swear I can hear the beat of his thumbed feet whenever the miners take a rest from their noisemaking.
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Topic: SPARKGEAR RESURRECTION (Read 48285 times)