Memorandum to: Urist McBroker, aka Nish Mengidos
Re: Duties
It has come to our attention in seasons past that you have a touch of Attention Deficit Hyperdwarf Disorder. We understand this. It is our policy here in Lanternrelics to accommodate to the best of our ability Dwarves with special needs. This is why we take the step of turning off all of your labors when the traders are in town, and you have been excused from all hauling and menial duties.
Also, please take special note of your holdings: owing to your status as one of the founding seven, you have been given holdings suitable for nobility, including a splendid office, a grand bedroom and a fine dining room. Your furniture totals to two chests, six cabinets, six weapon racks and six armor stands. All of your walls are engraved.
It has come to our attention that at present time you proceed what is either blithe ignorance or gross flaunting of your present orders - currently, your one and only duty - to haul yourself down to the depot and conduct trade with the humie bastards who're slavering for all of the dragon bone schlock we've had our bonegrinders cranking out non-stop since the last dragon invasion, simply to clear out the bonehorde; instead you choose to cleanse yourself. This has us puzzled for a few reasons.
1: Over the past three years here at Lanternrelics, you have not cared about the fact that not only have you been completely encrusted with every manner of blood and filth known to Dwarvenkind.
2: Nor have you cared about this despite the fact that you are completely naked, as all of your clothing burned away during the first dragon attack.
3: Being that you are made entirely of steel, it is utterly impossible for you to catch any sort of illness whatsoever, even were you to wallow about in the most vile filth imaginable.
We are very aggravated at this, as there are humans in the depot who need to be relieved of their valuables, most specifically their food and alcohol, without which we will starve, dehydrate, or (worst of the three) go sober. However, we are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. It may be your expert opinion as our outpost's broker that the humie bastards will react less poorly to your gleaming, clean stainless steel feminine form than they will to the same form coated in blood and grime.
However, and I say this with all due respect, if you don't get your frakking ass into that frakking depot when you're done washing off, I swear to Armok I will draft you and send you into the caverns to hunt down and kill those frakking forgotten beasts alone, armed with nothing more than your stainless steel fists!
Sincerely,
Management.
Dear Urist McJuniorHuntBender, aka Alath Inkshimmers (Age 1)
I understand that it is on my head and my head alone that I undertook to impress upon your young person service to the community in the form of child labor. Even more irresponsibly, I assigned you to the task of hunting, requiring you - who are yourself a target for foul beasts such as goblin kidnappers - to crawl about the wilderness of our lands with a ranged weapon and a quiver full of ammunition in search of food.
To my great surprise this is a challenge to which you seem ready to rise. You have dutifully armed yourself with a ranged weapon, and procured both a quiver and ammunition. However, you are, for some unfathomable reason, wielding an Iron Bow which no doubt came to be in our stockpiles as part of a vein of goblinite.
Nevertheless, you are a Steel Dwarf. You were ejected from your mother's nethers with all the intelligence (or should I say lack thereof) of any member of this fortress, and needed only to grow large enough to equip yourself, which you have done. Why in Armok's name are you wielding a weapon which Dwarves are not supposed to wield, and especially carrying mismatched ammunition? I assigned you and another young child-dwarf who arrived in the same wave as you to the task of hunting. Not only is he out there hunting, he's achieved the rank of Proficient Hunter, and will soon progress to Talented. As a Marksdwarf and an Archer he is Acomplished, and he's a Proficient Ambusher; our military will profit from his induction as soon as he is old enough. You, on the other hand, have nothing to show for yourself, not having even skulked around the fortress developing your skills as an ambusher.
And now, you have been possessed by a mood, no doubt to create something ridiculous and useless in the craftsdwarfs workshops, as you passed up all the magma forges and magma glass kilns that were near you when you were taken. You won't even get any bloody experience out of it, as this was a case of possession.
Drop that bow and pick up an armok-loving crossbow, or zog me, I will have you atom-smashed!
Drunkenly Yours,
Management.
P.S. I'm off to the boozehorde. If you don't drop that zogging non-crossbow (or at least zogging arm yourself with some zogging arrows), you will never again taste alcohol within your metalic esophagus, I swear it!
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Topic: Note to Urist--In which you express your frustration to your dwarves (Read 1553918 times)