Part 139: Daeren: Update 2

2nd Granite:

Sweet holy Litast above, that felt good.

I designated the obsidian now encasing Globofglob to be chipped away so his tortured form could be put on display in my bedroom, but that damned robot...golem...thing smashed the entire block, encased Globofglob included, while shrieking about hostiles. While I won't get to look at his horrible, half-melted stone face when I go to bed, I rest easy knowing that the demon-worshipper is now nothing but fragments of a soul encased in some obsidian pebbles at the bottom of the fortress.

I've commissioned a commemorative piece anyways. Here's my writeup.


12th Granite:



WHO THE HELL DESIGNED THIS FORTRESS?



For the love of Armok, nothing in here makes sense! I know this place was designed by committee, but there's tunnels that go nowhere, vital areas that are in the MIDDLE of nowhere, useless redundancies everywhere, nothing is grouped by type except for the thousands of stockpiles for everything down to toenail clippings and every main area is so damned crowded I can't keep track of ANYTHING!



Oh, and some useless crap happened. Apparently I'm briefed on everything that goes on. No wonder half of the past overseers have gone nuts.



In other news, I discovered that the mole-traps had been sealed ever since they were sprung almost two years ago, and the moles down there are still alive. I believe they've been surviving by reproducing, then eating the babies, and subsisting on their own excrement in the meantime.

Efficient. Hardy. TERRIFYING.

I've assigned as many as I can to be trained for war as soon as possible.



15th Granite

There's a dog outside that has no ass.



Tinny Turtler's wardog apparently had its tail torn off somehow, and keeps passing out in the middle of the trade depot bleeding and crapping.

Why do I say this?



Because a caravan of tree-hugging, animal-loving bleeding heart ELVES have arrived.

This will end well.