Dear Migrant Wave,
I hate you all. I really do. But seeing as how my magma-based death-rain project has not even begun to be properly conceptualized, much less built, you are welcome for a time.
You are also all masons.
Now get to work on sealing us off from the outside world and all its horrible flying hazards. I want that wall and roof built yesterday.
Dear Giant Cave Spiders,
Stay the fuck down there, I'm not ready for you lot yet. Don't even think of finding some horrible path I haven't thought of to terrorize and murder my dwarves.
Dear Ducim Inoddolush,
I realize that you're a wonderful farmer and brewer. I also realize that for a few months while I worked out the logistics of creating a farming area for you to use, you had no work and merely hauled shit. Furthermore, it does not escape my notice that now we have an abundance of plant life and fine drinks, and that this is all your doing.
However, when the liaison shows up and wants to talk to you, that does not mean you get to ignore him. Yes, I realize what you do is vital to our continued survival, but so isn't a caravan every now and then. Please, for the love of Me, take a break. Meng Uzolalil can cover for you. Honest.
Dear Meng Fathatham,
Suck it up and deal. Yeah, I know, working at the top of the volcano is not your idea of a forge of legends. Be glad that you get to work with a volcano at all. A little aerobic exercise while you haul the ores out of the mountain before you forge them is good for you. If I feel so inclined, I may change your nickname to Hephaestus. Whether or not you become a cripple is up to you.
Signed,
Me, your eternal overseer.