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[Pirate Santa]

Dear Urist McPotter,

Seriously dude, how do you keep trapping yourself in inaccessible sections of the half completed Baron's mansion?
Please stop.

Sincerely,
Your impatient Overseer.

[Derro]

Dear Urist McWeaver.

The next time you have a strange mood (never), please immediately move towards the section of the fortress I can lock down. You'd have made such a beautiful research object: now I'm going to have to hope you turn berserk so that I may at least get a vampire out of this.

[wierd]

Dear urist McFarmer, and Ducim McHerbalist,

While I am sure that the acorns just outside are a captivating and clearly cherished food item (that most certainly won't simply be sold off to the elves at a discount later), when I make an emergency burrow designation, activate a civilian alert, and have you assigned to it, I very much expect you to cancel your current take and head to the assigned meeting area.

I most certainly do not expect nor want you two idiots to keep picking up useless tree embryos when an envoy of "differently alive" persons of interest escort the local tower dwelling neighbor on his bi-yearly visit. Having to draft you two into an idiot brigade, and station you in the assigned meeting area was not my idea of a good time, and rest assured I liked it even less than you did, considering how you now complain about being discharged from the military.

I have half a mind to reassign you to the clay harvesting pits in the bowels of the fortress, where you can't possibly be any more trouble, but the idea of you being anywhere near magma fills me with existential dread.

Seriously. Acorns are not worth it. Just get inside like everyone else.

[Henry47]

Dear Urist Mcdead ex-solider.

When i remove you from the military, that means you are a civilian, which means you run away from the undead, not charge towards them and get your (useless) head made even more useless by the quick addition of the sharp end of a pike. Not only has your fool-hardiness caused your own death, it has also made it much harder to lure the undead into our cage traps, preventing me from ending the siege that has cut us off from the rest of the world.

[Fish Preferred]

Dear Lazy Bumpkins:
I gave you all one job: Take everything from the wagon and dump it all in the dugout. Instead, you brought two river trout and some stones inside and spent the next several hours loafing around the loaded wagon under the pretense of having "No Job". Then the evil rain came and you all passed out on the ground. Six times. In direct succession. Now you are all emotionally scarred and covered in cloying mucous. I hope you've learned a valuable lesson.

Dear Fishery Workers and Former Fisherdwarves:
Perhaps I wasn't being sufficiently clear. Maybe I need to explain your jobs to you using hand puppets and flash cards bearing colourful pictograms. Whatever the case, I feel it is necessary to inform you that nonstop fishing does not take precedence over cleaning the fish you have caught or taking them into storage. Any of you idiots found fishing off the top of an enormous mound of rotten catch will be sealed into a 1x1 underground room with it until further notice.

Spoiler: Illustration (click to show/hide)

Engraved is a well-crafted Fish Preferred rendition of The Idiot Fisherdwarf, a well-designed
image of Solon Skunkrag the dwarf fishing atop 1448 rotted-out mussel shells and 806 stacks
of decaying fish carcases.

[Fleeting Frames]

Hahahaha. That's why I always make sure to put raw fish only stockpiles right beneath where they stand to fish

[Spectre9000]

Dear Urist McMiner,
Whilst it amuses me to imagine you vomit-screaming your head off as you run away from a belligerent horde of undead, constantly being notified of you and the fact you aren't doing your assigned work are beginning to wear on me. The first time was enough, never mind the next 5 times you tried to pick up the socks of Urist McMechanic, whom moronically decided he wanted to go party with the undead earlier. I might also mention those socks are the very ones I've already expressly forbidden. I'm pretty sure that if there were undead there the several times you've gone already, there's going to continue to be undead there.

Let me receive one more notification, and I'll make a burrow specially for you right in the middle of all those undead you love so much, so that you can vomit-scream all over them whilst they tear you apart limb by limb; all in the (probably vain) hope that the next Urist that sees them will see your vomit dripping from their cold lifeless rotting limbs and hopefully think twice about ignoring me. I will make use of your dead lifeless vomit-covered corpse at the very least if you don't wish to obey my very simple orders.

Yours sincerely,
Your oh-so-done-with-your-shit Overseer.

[Wedolko]

Dear Rakust McBroker,
You are a LEGENDARY appraiser. LEGENDARY. Your so important I don't have you do anything but haul trade goods and trade.
Our friends from the mountain homes are here, I told you to go to the depot and I'm sure they have the iron, pig iron, and steel bars I requested and some more booze we desperately need. So why are you sitting in the hallway with your thumb up your ass? You've had "no job" for days on end now and you can totally access the stupid depot, hell it's not even 50 squares away from the hallway you loiter around.

Dear outpost liaison and mayor,
why the hell do you wait until the caravan is about to leave to discuss pricing and needs? It's not like either of you are actually doing anything else important. Liaison, you just sat in the bar of my inn and drank yourself silly while my mayor wandered around aimlessly waiting for you.

With love and hatred and a need for resources,
Armok

[wierd]

Dear overseer Wedolko,

Did you remember to request a trader at the depot?  I can't work there unless there is a job posting!

[Wedolko]

Dear overseer Wedolko,

Did you remember to request a trader at the depot?  I can't work there unless there is a job posting!

Yah I did, but I figured it out

Apparently he just needed me to save and quit out and then come back in.

[TD1]

Dear Urist McSoldier,

You will kindly note the platform I built around the riverside barracks. After the untimely passing of four of your associates, it was erected not only in their memory but for the betterment of all military personnel. Truly, it was an insightful solution on my part, and if it did prove to be a blight on the eye it, nevertheless, saved many lives. You know the cause of their deaths, I am sure - the entire Fort speaks of it. A goblin spear embedded in the throat is the accepted Dwarven death ritual, but these poor souls managed to activate an ancient teleportation spell during the intricate dance which is sparring. With no means of controlling this mystic art, they were promptly dumped into the river where they, just as promptly, asphyxiated. Again, I do not need to tell you this. Why, all things considered, would you then decide by Armok's fiery blade to spar outside the barracks and out of range of its protective platform? Somewhere in between putting your left foot out and then putting it in, you triggered ancient archaic magics and drowned to your death.

This serves as a poor eulogy, but frankly I have no time for the foolishness of my subjects, and so Dwarven Weekly is burdened with more critique of character than true lament. To restore a solemn feeling to my words, I conclude by saying: Rest in peace, you stupid bastard.

((I should note that this is within a walled area, so the Dwarves have to somehow go through the wall to kill themselves in the river. It's really annoying, but solved by creating a platform on the other side of the wall.))

[Roofless]

((I should note that this is within a walled area, so the Dwarves have to somehow go through the wall to kill themselves in the river. It's really annoying, but solved by creating a platform on the other side of the wall.))

Find my post some pages earlier - mine were dodging through three-tile thick walls into a volcano below.
It's a known bug, as I found out.

[TD1]

I've lost four hammer lords so far. They keep finding new places to dodge through, though why they leave the barracks to spar I have no idea.

[muldrake]

Dear Urist McDumbass:

I get that you're tired after spending all that time building your own bedroom and hauling furniture into it.

But why are you sleeping in the hall outside your room in a pool of someone else's vomit next to a dead rotting horse?

[Bumber]

Dear Urist McDumbass:

I get that you're tired after spending all that time building your own bedroom and hauling furniture into it.

But why are you sleeping in the hall outside your room in a pool of someone else's vomit next to a dead rotting horse?

Someone tried to make Urist an offer he couldn't refuse, but they botched it due to not being able to hold their booze.

Elf conspiracy? Human? Goblin? You decide.