105
"... Ninja what?" Fourguts echoes in exasperation. "Look, you do that. I'm going to go fetch the crossbower now."
You ignore him and head downstairs to the bedrooms, searching for the enigmatic cat of ninjitsu lore. There are several idle dwarves crowding the entrance and doodling on your walls, but no sign of any felines. The fortress is only so big, it must be hiding somewhere. To a the cat, you have to think like a cat. Channel your inner gigolo. That's it! A regular cat must have a fast metabolism just to keep up with breeding, but a ninja cat ... to the stockpiles!
You rush towards them, only pausing to step around the snacking, sleepy crossbower. The cat is found licking itself next to a barrel of alcohol. You stare it down and finger your pickaxe. Suddenly, you leap! But the cat darts beneath your legs and scurries off again.
Your cruel game of cat and mouse continues for the next several days, and already you are unsure who is the hunter and who is the hunted. Its eyes glow like diamonds, mocking you as it deliberately runs everywhere except your gem stockpile.
"Hey, the snatcher left," Foureyes informs you as she passes in the hallway. "The crossbower ran out to attack but it had already fled. So he stripped in celebration and streaked back inside. One of the rookie miners is digging an archery range to keep him out of sight now, but I- Hey, where are you going?"
The cat is on the move again and you give chase upstairs. It nimbly leaps over your row of weapon traps, leaving you to tread carefully behind it. It was only out of sight for a second, you swore. But when you next caught up it was already carrying toad remains. You warily follow the beast inside and-
HOLY SHIT HALF THE GEMS ARE GONE HOW IS THAT EVEN oh, oh thank Armok. They're just being stored in wooden bins. You angrily chastise the confused hauler, twitching lightly. When you turn around your foe is already gone. You find it later in an empty fishery, innocently swiping fish guts. Or so it wants you to believe.
"You need to have words with that bloody crossbower," Fourguts grumbles to you a few weeks later. You barely perceive his voice, intently focused on the fluffball snoozing under his desk. "He swears he's 'going to archery practice', but refuses to budge from the weapon stockpile. I've cancelled his training and he's still lazing there. ... Are you feeling okay?"
You assure Fourguts that you are, or at least will be once you can figure out your nemesis's secret weakness. Fourguts ignores that last part and hands you some papers. You sign them without looking down.
"All the dwarves you're leaving idle have decided to dig a 'party room', complete with a closet for snacks. Those were the order forms for the statues," Fourguts adds dubiously. You nod, and stroke the ball of pig tail fiber thread in your pocket. Why does he look so satisfied without it. Why?!
You notice eventually that further migrants have arrived, if only because they slow your pursuit. They all seem impressed by a masterpiece statue in the storeroom. At least until Fourguts explains that it is real, breathing dwarf who's mind may or may not have been broken by the disbanding of his squad. There is a possibility it was broken before then.
The exchange brings your mind briefly back from its reverie. Three waves of migrants have arrived safely in only a year, when you had to be shot and shipwrecked to make it at all. And since then there's only been a single goblin spying on your fort. What have you done that has made them so afraid of you now? And if so many dwarves are seeking fortune after you, what happened to all those who must have arrived before you?
A cat is a deadly weapon, but you reason that it would leave traces of kittens everywhere. No, the real danger must be something else. Your mind wanders in thought. The cat cat scratches at your leg, desperate for attention. You ignore it and it mews worriedly before vanishing in a puff of smoke. You walk in thought towards your bedroom, stopping to admire a masterpiece engraving of a familiar wandering lizard. It's eerily realistic and you could have sworn it was engraved in the dining room.
"The horsies gave birth! The horsies gave birth!" Foureyes sings. She dances down the corridor and stops before you. "Oh, yeah, and there was a possession or something again? That new craftsdwarf made a figurine depicting the first dwarven queen surrounded by blah blah history whatever. It had pretty tanzanite bands, though."
...
WHAAAT?! Your hands shake as you try to take this new information in. What was that cat doing to you this whole time? Your gems - your glorious gems for the dwarven kingdom - have been defiled WITH POLITICS?!
"Um, yeah, but only two ..."
FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUU-
If you bury your gems deep under the earth where no ghost or goblin can ever touch them, turn to page 143.
If you construct a tower to display your gems and house only your six most trustworthy dwarves, turn to page 166.
If you dig your fortress a secure lock-up complete with armed guards to protect your gems, turn to page 180.
If you just throw the craftsdwarf in your execution chamber, turn to page 109.
If you realise Fourguts was right; you need to lay off the water, turn to page 102.
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Topic: Choose Your Own DF - Goblin Blight Island (Read 43267 times)