Dear Urist McClothier,
We don't have any shells, we live in a desert, shut up and deal with it.
I no longer care that the voices in your head demand shells, go crazy for all I care, my military needs the practice.
-love, The Overseer
Dear Urist McHauler,
What the hell man? Its been a year since Urist McClothier went crazy and killed those two dogs, three cats, then was gunned down by the military. Those bodies are still rotting in the middle of the dining hall. What really confuses me is that you took his vomit covered socks but didnt dump his body. Your a sick dwarf.
-love, The Overseer
Dear Urist McFarmer,
How the hell did a VULTURE get into the farming area?! Its 15 Z-levels down a gauntlet of traps and doors! No, the military is busy at the moment, so deal with it. I will be locking you in there with it until one of you is dead, I dont care who.
-love, The Overseer
Dear Urist McLyemaker(s),
Report to magma room B, that is all.
-love, the Overseer
Dear Urist McNoble,
There are 3 Hydras left in the world, stop demanding crafts made from their bones.
Continuing this trend will mean your quarters be moved to Magma room B.
-love, the Overseer
Dear Urist McMiner,
Please finish digging out Magma room A, the baroness has finished cooling and is ready to be mounted in the main hall.
-love, the Overseer
Dear Urist McFisherdwarf,
I know there is no fish in the sothern swamps? know why? WE LIVE IN A DESERT. I have disabled the fishing task from you and yet you still pester me about this. Keep it up and I'll make you a lye maker.
-love, the Overseer