((Small update))
Excerpt from a pamphlet found in the dining hall:Craftsmen of Oceanbrige Unite!
Tell Mayer Anderson that youre sick of masons and soldiers geting all the work! Tell him that skilled craftsmen shuld not be made to chip blocks all day long while there talents rot! Tell him that if wants another vote to go his way, hell find real work for the real workers, not a bunch of rock lovers and lazy soldiers!
And if he doesnt, kick him right out and vote a dwarf who will.
Signed by the Metalworker and Craftsman Union of Oceanbridge
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Wilberforce Interrogates the Jotunar Leader“Tell all, my rather large friend. Why did you come here? Why do you want to destroy this place? That’s not exactly a polite thing for a sentient creature like yourself to do, now is it?”
The Rime Giant, who looked quite uncomfortable hunched over a cage designed to hold badgers, ignored him, as he had been doing for some time.
Seeing the peasant Lovecraft pass by, he brightened up and intoned “Doom! Doom approaches for you, little dwarf! The doom of the gods is upon you!” Lovecraft’s eyes grew wide, and he screamed and ran from the room.
“Yes, well.” Wilberforce sighed. “Tell you what, let’s take a break. Feel free to torture yourself for information; frankly, I haven’t got the stomach for that sort of thing."
"Doom."
"Quite." Wilberforce turned away, and walked out of the room.
After stopping in to inform Mr. Anderson that he had no new information to offer, Wilberforce headed to his own office, a floor above. To his surprise, he found a small note nailed to the door, (his brand new, high quality limestone door, he thought, annoyed.) Picking the little piece of paper off, he read: "Wilberforce. Meet in the old furnace room. Important information to discuss. Signed, a Friend."
Well, that was interesting.
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Next: Stuff, and Probably Things (How often have these "next" things actually been accurate, anyway?)