Dear Lolokdodok Residents,
I would like to formally apologize for letting your alchoholic stockpiles run completely dry in the middle of winter while all other water sources were frozen solid.
However, I hold all of you, and specifically the expedition leader/broker/bookkeeper, responsible for the three deaths by dealchoholation that we suffered, reducing your numbers to 15. I heard your pleas for liquor, and immediately ordered the construction of a still and brewing of many rock pots of various flavors. Long before anyone died. Not only that, but if his-bookkeeperness hadn't insisted on keeping said books, even after already achieving the highest possible accuracy, napping for a month (really? did you really need a month?), getting a drink and promptly going back to the books, we might have been able to sell the five bins worth of craft goods and three dozen (low quality) chalk pots to the merchants who were only too happy to buy at the discounts our shortage of alcohol ensured. But no, instead of trading for a few minutes, he made sure the books were good to six figures (when we only needed two), and was, unfortunately, NOT one of the three casualties of his neglect.
And why, oh, why, did the vast majority of you choose to sit and complain about being thirsty while in the temporary meeting area, a mere four tiles from the only stockpile (containing a minimum 50 units of booze), and a dozen tiles from the still itself (with at least another 25 units), instead of getting off your idle arses and getting drinks for yourselves?
Damnit, Urists, I'm the Overseer, not a barkeep! Get yer own damn drinks!
The Overseer
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Dear Erush, Ghostly Woodcutter,
Thank you for not injuring or frightening your (former?) fortress mates upon your return after dehydrating in your sleep in what is now the Militia Commander's room. If it is your desire to haunt the booze stockpile of the just completed First Hall, I am not going to complain. Just try to keep the ectoplasm in the booze to a minimum.
Thank you,
Your Apologetic Overseer