Part 251: Pozzo: Update 10g
UPDATE 10g: THE REDEMPTION OF BOBTHETHURD
Meanwhile, Niceaaron has had enough of this criminal investigation lark and decided to take his lunch. He retires to the old jail, where poor Toja still hangs, recovering slowly from his injuries without a bed, still chained though his sentence ended months ago.
Upstairs, the spawn Goadpoison is limping slowly through the fort, looking for anybody to kill. He finds one man.
Bob walks forward to meet the spawn, a look of fury on his face. He swings his pick down on the spawns body like it weighed nothing more than a length rope. He brings it down on the spawns uninjured arm, and again on its back.
This is the pick that struck the earth here.
This is the pick the mined out these halls.
This is the pick of Bobthethurd, Mayor of Syrupleaf.
This pick is the scourge of Goadposion.
As Bob hammers the helpless spawn again and again with his pick, two of his molenarockers round the corner to help with the kill. Their frantic angry bites spell the end for the hapless spawn, and Bobthethurd spits on the corpse as he walks back to the little hallway he waits in. "This is not your meeting..." he mutters as he walks. OOC: (so much for giving him the same stats as NiceAaron)
Moments after this, Mortalsword comes across Menacedcraft in the main staircase. He finds that all his study of Morul Mobbedtrussed's seminal work "'Here we have a skeletal fire-imp!': Dwarves and The Will to Death" has done little to prepare him for this moment.
The soft-spoken noble lasts about a second against the blood-soaked spawn.
Strange Matter takes advantage of his death to raise the price of books.
Menacedcrafts then ascends the stairs, sensing for where she has just felt her brother Goadpoison fall. She finds the mayor, standing and staring down the walled off passage to the gatehouse roof from the construction of MortuusLupus' spawncatcher, his pick, still dripping with spawn blood, resting on his shoulder as he stares down the narrow hall. She has already dealt with his Molenarockers, who were hanging around the top of the stairs. The spawn walks slowly towards the dwarf, sizing him up, measuring him.
Then, barely a few metres away, she leaps, smashing into his lower body.
Bobthethurd does little to resist as the Spawn tears at him, just stares at her with inquisitive eyes as his blood paints the walls.
Eventually she tires of this strange dwarf and bats him down the short narrow hall at the wall.
He thuds heavily against the wall, and as he slides, dying, to the floor, he whispers one word.
SYRUPLEAF POPULATION: 8