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[Maillor]

Third Year

first entry:
This place is a mess. Well not really, inside the fortress it's good enough expects the ghost. I mean they say it's the third year (others say it's just the second but who cares?) and there are still unburied corpses out there! Thats not what they said to me at home. Opportunities my ass. Some of us guys found a walled off cave near to our fort sou we were curious and peaked in after we removed that wall. There was nothing there. Except another corpse. The mayor was freaked out, he said there was a dragon and we are all doomed. Superstitious folks, all of them...

second entry:
Spring came as well as the ogres. We started to extend our burial chambers. Poor woodcutters, but thats what you get when you work on the surface. Meanwhile the elves came and went. They were rather furious. I mean come on, it was just a little accident, everyone can confuse a splint to a stone mug, really. Whatever. Those tree huggers can do me a favor!

third entry:
There is something wrong with this place I swear. I thought that the ogres are killing everyone equally but it seems to me that they are after the cats. They are chasing the cats, and I saw once how one of them throw a kitty to the middle of nowhere. And them SPLAT!!! a pillar. IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE! Who puts a frigging pillar into the middle of nowhere?! There was a labyrinth underneath. Completely empty. In the middle of nowhere. We are in the middle of nowhere...

fourth entry:
Someone stealing our foods.  Some of the older folks says it's obviously the moles but I don't believe them. I think there is a saboteur amongst us. That carpenter is suspicious to me. I swear he is a tree hugging hippie. He made a bow with with all that moon and nature and whatnot stuff and was very proud of it...

fifth entry:
I started to work in the mines instead, I can't endure those idiots. There is always something, last time a goblin came and tried to steal one of our babies. Now that monster is in a cage but still, I feel that everyone is going insane, who the heck is founded this place in the middle of nowhere? But I don't care anymore, I have my pick and there is enough stone and depths to me for a lifetime.

sixth entry:
♫♪♫ Gold, gold, gold, ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold, ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold, ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold, ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold ♫♪♫ gold, gold, gold MWHAAHAAHHAAHAAHAAHAAAHAAAAaaaaa

seventh entry:
They said that I'm mad. They said it's dangerous. hey said it's impossible. They said there are too much unknown caverns underneath, with who knows what. And then what? And now what? Look at this! What is this? It's magma you fools! It's adamantine YOU BITCHES!!! NOW WHO'S LAUGHING?! NOW WHAT?!

eight entry:
News from above. They say that we finally cut out the last tree. They are worried about this but I say it's good. Now what blade ears? here we are in the middle of nowhere we endures and w kill all of your precious trees. I have to go up and take a look at this. I want to see this nothingness.

ninth entry:
Oh gods, and stones. Goblins. Goblins everywhere...

[ISGC]

The mayor was freaked out, he said there was a dragon and we are all doomed. Superstitious folks, all of them...

lol 
doomed, I say, doomed!
the dragon may still show up some day.

[Torkel Månsson]

Unfortunately I had kind of a busy day yesterday so i only managed until summer. Anyway, I dug some adamantite, killed some goblins, lost some dwarves to goblins and magma and had no less than two dwarves go insane.

Also ISGC is kind of in a bad mood (had a tantrum, but it passed), guess he knew the miner that burned to death or something.

I'll have a write-up posted soon.

Here is the save:

http://www.mediafire.com/?p4uw954vl2prlpj

[ISGC]

Also ISGC is kind of in a bad mood (had a tantrum, but it passed), guess he knew the miner that burned to death or something.

make me a nice tomb!
I now understand my mood
I have been given the title "'ISGC' Pagefingers, the Fondled Hero of Sockets"

[Servu]

Any news from the latest save?

[Urist McDeeth]

Any news from the latest save?

Sadly no. The mail i sent to Carl Beard went unanswered, so i'm now trying to get in touch with Paul Jacob. If he hasn't answered by tomorrow, the save will pass on to you.

EDIT: Paul Jacob now has the save

[Maillor]

status report?

[ISGC]

status report?

yes, please!

[beachdorf321]

So is the fort still in one piece or have we had to revert to an old save yet? Either way ive finally gotten around to the writefaggotry for my turn and i should have it compiled into one cohesive post quite soon.

[Servu]

Since it looks like the save isn't coming back, I'm going to go ahead and download it. Expect update during Sunday.

[ISGC]

Since it looks like the save isn't coming back, I'm going to go ahead and download it. Expect update during Sunday.

alright, we'll pick up with you.
Don't be afraid to be a little tough on it; I don't see this fort being able to withstand any more than 5 or so more owners.

[Servu]

Ok, I'm finished with the year now (went from summer to summer)

I will finish up the writefaggotry and post the save tonight or tomorrow when I get home.

[Servu]

All done.

COMMENCING WRITEFAGGOTRY DUMP

Six months ago.
23rd Moonstone of year 15 from the rise of King Minkot Rithedan the Cruel.

Shem Submergedpaddle, Fortress Manager. Said the plate on the siltstone double door in the corner of the upper workshop area. It opened with a loathsome creak as Catten stepped through into the roughly carved office. A corpulent dwarf was sitting next to a rock table there and smoking a large rat weed cigar, signing him to take a seat on the other side.
"Why the secrecy, Shem" Catten asked while seating himself. "Why couldn't we discuss this matter down in the meeting halls? I only have these few moments of free time and would prefer to spend them downstairs, away from this horrendous racket." he said, pointing  towards the furnace area behind him where the constant sounds of metal being pounded into shape emerged, leaking through the office's rock walls.
Shem leaned back in his chair and let out a small cloud of smoke. "How would you like to become the mayor?" he waved towards a letter on the table, with a large carmine red wax seal. The seal had been broken. "Read it."

Catten looked reluctant, but picked up the letter anyway and took out the parchment inside it. He started to read. "To the standing Mayor of Twinklepaddles. His Most Esteemed Majesty, the Destroyer of Goblins, the Burner of Elves, King Minkot Rithedan..."
"THE KING? Why are you in possession of this? This can get us both thrown to the magma pits if someone finds out!"
"Just keep reading" Shem urged him. "I have made the necessary arrangements to ensure that no-one is going to miss this letter."
Catten looked around as if to make sure no-one was spying them, but ultimately couldn't fight his curiosity. "...hereby states that the mighty city of Twinklepaddles has thus attained the necessary renown to become a Barony of it's own. The royal messenger will depart from the capital to Twinklepaddles in the autumn of the year 16 of our Glorious Ruler. You as the lord Mayor and the embodiment of His will below the gates of Twinklepaddle, are to select an individual from the city's population worthy of the rank of a Baron of His Majesty..." Catten glanced over the rest of the letter. "The rest is just diplomatic bullshit and boot licking. What does this have to do with us?"
"The mayoral election will be held next Granite." Shem reminded him.
"And you think I could become the Mayor by then? As far as I'm aware, I'm not exactly liked by the common dwarf here. You even less."
"Well, thats why we will rig the election. You are the one counting the votes and I verify them."
"...and be overthrown in two weeks time since no-one is going to believe either of us getting ANY votes at all, not to mention winning the entire election."
Shem rubbed his hands together with a conspiring smirk all over his face. "Catten my friend, that is why we are not going to rig the election to the favor of neither of us. The people don't want to be ruled by bureaucrats like we are. The want someone to relate with. Someone with common sense instead of mighty words. Someone... stupid." Shem sucked smoke from his cigar. "We are going to give them exactly what they want. We will get them the greatest retard this land has ever seen. And they are going to despise him. We will let him do whatever he pleases. Let the people get sick of his whims, and when everyone has abandoned this poor dumbass, kind master Shem Submergedpaddle is going to be there for him. Right in time when the King's messenger comes by." Shem pointed at Catten. "And my first act as the Baron of Twinklepaddle will be to kick out that fool and appoint you as my Mayor and right hand. The people will praise us to heavens after suffering through that."
Catten frowned. "That will never work, at best we are both going to end up in the dungeon with chains around our limbs."
"But aren't you chained to that stone chair of yours already? Forever doomed to listen to the infinite complaints of stonesmiths when they can't find some worthless granite pebble, while the forges here slowly pound your ears to pulp?"
Catten sunk into his chair. He had cursed a thousand times the day he was appointed as the fortress bookkeeper. Recently the sounds of hammers had begun to follow him to sleep, depriving him from the little escape he got from it. Shem knew this. He filed the healthcare reports and he saw the thoughts behind Catten's deep sunk eyes. "A glass of Whip Wine?" He said while pulling out an old bottle from behind his desk.
And so the matter was settled.

[Servu]

Next morning, the two conspirators met during the lunch break in the packed dining hall. The kitchen was serving plump helmet stew with plump helmets and plump helmet wine, like it did every day. Catten had noticed that he had started to sweat every time a fortress guard passed nearby. Shem seemed unaffected though. He even had a short chat with one of them. They were about to get seated when Shem pulled Catten's sleeve.
"There is our guy. The one near the doorway." Catten looked. "You're kidding."
The dwarf Shem had pointed wasn't really that unusual looking, just ugly. Clearly not familiar with manual labor. he had a blank stare in his eyes and a weird demeanor of moving around uncomfortably whenever a dwarf passed near him. But for some reason he was wearing a large stone slab over his chest and back along with a set of clothing that would make even the least fashionable dwarf chuckle. On the stone slab it read with poor handwriting:
"I am a 68 year old virgin with rage seeking a 60-80 year old boyfriend-free girl."

Before Catten had time to dissent, Shem had already begun to walk towards him arms wide. "Well met my good fellow!" he bellowed as the simpleton jumped up, scared by the sudden outburst, but before he had time to react, Shem was already shaking his hand.
"My my. You sir truly look like a dwarf of great stature. May I inquire your name?" The dolt just stood there, eyes blinking. After a while he managed to get a word out. "M- my name is Christian." He puffed out his chest a bit. "I am an engraver!" Shem smiled the smile Catten had seen him smile when he talked down representatives while pocketing their wallets in the middle of a crowded corridor.
"Well Christian, or may I call you Chris? Have a seat over here with my friend and let me buy you a meal! In the meantime, why don't you tell us about all the great art you must have made?"
The idiot ate like a pig while blabbing about some saga he was engraving while chewing his food. Apparently about himself and some kind of a hedgehog man. Catten had a full time keeping a straight face during the flood. Shem was also struggling. They even lied that they had read it on the walls and were the greatest of fans. When Chris finally paused his presentation to burp, Shem quickly changed the subject.
"You know Chris, you have a lot of insight in your works and it's sad that a dwarf with as much vision as you is kept hidden away like this. You should run for mayor you know." The dolt paused his eating for a moment, pandering the idea. "Christian Riddlecloister, mayor of Twinklepaddle... I like the sound of that."
As they begun to leave the dining hall, Catten asked Chris where he had gotten his unusual name. "The god-bear told it to me." Was the answer.

[Servu]

Present day.
16th Hematite of year 16 from the rise of King Minkot Rithedan the Cruel.

The election had gone as planned. They had paraded Chris around the fortress like a fat pig in a farmers' fare. At first Catten had been worried since their candidate was getting such a poor reception everywhere he went, but soon he started to pick up recurring lines from the people's conversations as they left a hall.
"Looks like a guy the stonecrafters' guild might vote for." He heard when they were departing from the forge area, while the stonecrafters found him fit for a vote from some farmer simpleton.
The same trend continued, and at the end his impression was that every guild found each other to be dumb enough to vote for a dwarf like Chris. Today he wished their ruse hadn't worked out so well.

Catten kicked open the door to Shem's office. "The retard has gone TOO FAR Shem. TOO FAR!" Shem put back the sword he had pulled out from a gap in the wall. "Calm down Catten. It can't be that bad. You were like this back when he ordered that horrible saga to be mandatory reading in public schools. Take a seat and tell me, calmly, what he has ordered now." Catten reluctantly sat down. "He wants a mansion." he said.
"Well, then I suppose we should call the miners guild to get to carving rooms then? No reason to keep the mayor waiting." Shem replied while pouring some wine for them. Catten buried his face in his hand. "It's not not like that, Shem. He wants it OUTSIDE"
The wine started to spill from the glasses as Shem stared, bewildered. Finally he snapped out of it and started to clean up the mess. "Well, that is... unusual. But I thi-" "No no no. Just listen to this:" Catten interrupted and cleared his throat. "I, the mayor require a mansion to be built in my honor on top of the hill that houses the entrance to Twinklepaddles. This mansion is to be four floors tall, with a golden floor leading to my throne room. The windows are to be made of gems and the doors are to be encrusted with jewels." "Now look at this." Catten handed a piece of parchment to Shem. Shem read it. Then he read it again.

"Adamantium throne." Shem said. Catten jumped up from his chair and started to walk around the room nervously. "Do you have ANY idea how much that is going to cost? Strand extraction alone is going to take months of working hours. We will need constant military presence to guard the material. Wafer processing... And then someone has to actually MAKE the damn thing. As if metalsmiths weren't expensive enough to hire as it is."
"Not to mention that we risk demonic invasion every time miners are sent down the Whispering Tunnel." Shem mentioned. "But as I have said many times before Catten, this guy is not supposed to be a good ruler. Quite the contrary." Catten threw up his hands in frustration.
"But what's the point of all this if the whole fortress goes up in flames before autumn comes? You have to get some kind of a leash on this guy, else we are going to find ourselves in the middle of a civil uprising. Just look at the production. Our whole economy is already strained by all these stupid regulations he keeps pumping out from gods know where. Strict anti-homosexual policy? Including 'Prevention of slanderous talk of the Mayor' to the fortress guards' work list? Addition of those retarded yellow amulets to our military uniforms? This guy is out of control Shem!"
Shem prodded around his glass. "Let him get his stupid mansion and throne. I think I know a way to get a hold of him." He paused. "He IS still unmarried, right?"
"Are you kidding? No self-conscious woman will give him a second look. He is still walking around with that ridiculous sign of his for Armok's sake."