...What this means is that the sign must be preserved as long as the fortress is alive, and it must also be rigged to the self-destruct lever that will collapse the tombs and unleash the undead army.
...You're a freaking genius...
In other news: the update!
Post Humus journal of Erica Wheelcircles the Legendary Die-rLately I’ve been managing the trade with Stakud, the owner of the dwarven caravans. Bastard is shrewd, and none of us are even moderately skilled as traders.
The first big hurdle was getting everyone to stop work and go trade. Since the living still tend to ignore us, I had to possess Zasit and charge up to the top of the ramparts and look at the caravan I already knew was camped out there. After sprinting like an elite elven coward up, I had to do it all again in reverse, being even more difficult to avoid slipping and smashing
myZasit’s
ugly mug face on the ground, find everyone, and tell them the caravan was here and to stop everything to run topside and pile heaps of trash onto the depot. By that point I lost concentration and couldn’t directly possess Zasit, who went back to digging with the rest of the construction team. It took a week for someone to realize the gates needed opened. Zasit was so concentrated on digging I couldn’t pull her away, and nobody was ever in earshot for me to give the order verbally. Once that was done, and the traders had marched into the depot and unloaded their crap, I noticed our broker was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t hard to find him; he’d taken the opportunity to reassure us that he really was a legendary sleeper. After that, he decided to clean his room, as well as shuffle the items in his cabinets, spending about a full day. I confronted him shortly afterward about it;
“Gizogin! What’s taking so long? The traders have been up there twiddling their thumbs for a week, waiting on you. You’re the only dwarf here who knows anything about dealing with traders, and we can’t afford to let this go poorly!”
“Lay off you old hag; I’m legally assured a certain amount of food, booze, and time each year for recreation. There’s nothing saying I can’t take it now, nor that I’m legally obligated to do anything during recreational periods. I didn’t eat dinner last night anyway and was feeling a little dry. I’ll get around to it.”
Bastard decided to spend all 200 hours of it in one sitting. When I asked again he pulled the “non-specific recreational periods” clause on me as well. Needless to say, I fired him. I plan to have Zasit depict the event in a statue of her striking a menacing pose as he weeps, with the newly appointed broker, Kirby, in the back jumping with joy.
Of course we had to take a week off with Kirby to try to show her some good ways to deal with the traders, before she was actually ready to go out there and do business. Once begun, it went… Acceptably. Nobody was particularly pleased with the trading, though, and I stepped in for Kirby’s conscience when she started slipping;
“You want HOW MUCH for three asses?”
Very confused Stakud; “Uhh... Face value, with 75% extra profit. I can’t just give them away, you know. Bathing in magma with a pissed off cave bear is probably safer than running a wagon train through these cursed lands. It costs enough to pay the guards and hire new merchants to replace the ones who quit the instant they’re on safe ground, and I of course expect to retire, alive, some day.”
“And WE live here. We absolutely must have living livestock, food and drink, and weapons. I know all we have to offer is old clothes from the deceased, but come on! It’s not that hard to sell them, is it?”
“More than you would know. The next biggest thing your paying for is overtime for the liaisons that I hired to take the paperwork every year. Where are they? Dead?”
“Well, no… The mayor hasn’t had time to deal with them yet.”
“Ah. Legally guaranteed annual recreational periods?”
“Uhh… Sure. Something like that. I would suggest you simply not hire them. We’re rather fed up with offering your employees permanent unofficial retirement.”
“If you knew anything about the Led, you’d know that she wanted as many dwarves stuffed into this shack as possible, and that any laws involved with that, like the ones governing my actions, expire after 20 years, and must be renewed as a whole. The last thing she mandated before the city was destroyed by demons was to tack on renewal of all other contracts to that package, and forbid export of wood for an 11 year period, strangely. The surviving lawmakers throughout the nation are still operating on her word, though. Whole world really has gone to hell in the greater picture… Wars everywhere, the demons that escaped ravaging dwarven fortresses throughout the home range and down in the human and elf villages. A good chunk of the populace of this half of the continent is spread out through the wilderness at this point.
Anyway, you were looking to buy these -fine- asses? I’ll cut you a deal; I’ll take face value with 10% profit, and my pick of the trash in this pile over here.” *gestures to a pile of trash*
“Finally! I’ll take it.” *chisels approval onto slab*
“Thanks. Pleasure doing business with you.” *snicker*
As it turns out, that pile of trash was the entirety of what we had prepared to offer as trade. Cunning bastard lead me right into a trap with the small talk... You should have seen the bill on the steel gear! Dear Armok it would make a god soil their loincloth to make such profit! Of course I had left Kirby to deal with it herself in my anger…
Trade concluded, we had lost around 10k in trash to the tyrant. There was no sense of ethereal possession about him, but I still suspect him of being a spy for Led. I’m currently searching for a law that would give me some authority over the liaisons. Led or dead, a dwarf has his rights, and we can’t just order them around without good reason.
Progress on the S-GES has been slow the last month or two due to everyone being involved with trading and taking their recreational time to enjoy the relatively fresh food and expensive booze. Zasit actually remembered what I wanted done for the upper catacombs. It’s been completed; Scaraban even finished hooking it up this morning. The Dead Dwarf Storage section is only around 3/7 of the way dug out, however.
Speaking of the dead, Etur the ghostly mason hasn’t left catalyst for even an instant this season. Makes one wonder whom she’s actually been ‘conducting meetings’ with, don’t it? Can’t blame her though, knowing that ¾ of the living are female. Now if only we could find her shoes and toss them up on the roof… The other spirits have been lazing around or simply asking me about progress lately, no real input. even Cheeze and DuckThatQuacks(Maniacally) have been floating around bored.
Those damn groundhogs still perplex me. Will I ever figure out what’s keeping their pitiful selves alive? Find out next time on Dwarf Fortress: Failcannon!
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Damn! Why do I always press post instead of preview?!
Heh. I had seriously considered drawing bouncin' dorf jubblies on Kirby in that sketch, since Kirby is one of the 9 women out of the fortress of 12.
On a more serious note, who votes the string of liaisons waiting on Catalyst get runesmith'd into submission as permanent residents?
Poll
281 (87.8%)
Author
Topic: FailCannon: No Rest for the Wicked (or anyone else) (Succession: Battlefailed 2) (Read 940270 times)