Part 52: Silento Boborachi: Update 3
Following the pages of the memo and report, you carefully delve further into the dusty tome...
Research Journal/Diary of Professor Silento Boborachi
I have attached the previous documents to record all that may transpire within my mission here, so that any discoveries made may be reproducible with the utmost ease. After the events in hoary marmot city, it is clear redundancies must be in place in case the original methods and means are lost.
I have met with the local leadership, in particular the mayor, bobthethurd . As "S" had mentioned, they were aware of my coming, and seem particularly entertained about the prospects of new work. It seems there have been recent tragedies that warrant busy work to keep the mind focused.
I may keep some idle for further research, but that will have to wait until I can judge how many subjects I can spare.
Upon assuming the duties of the overseer, I set out to take stock in, well, our stock, and the most recent demands of the populace, as one must make the best first impression in others minds before reconstruction of those minds can take place. An open mind is an open candy jar, after all...gooy candy...
It seems previous battles have littered the entrance with equipment both domestic and foreign, so I have ordered what can be recovered hauled into the fortress:
A request from Flocks of Mice was addressed as well, it seems his room was never given a door. I issue a door to be placed, to show the goodwill of Parasol:
idea for future experiment: slowly denying privacy of subjects
Reviewing some of the material left in the overseer's office, I came across this note from the former overseer, YOTC, about how the military was apparently using their training equipment in battle. I thus had them discard their sub-par weapons and only pick up quality slaying devices. As they said in my old ballista unit of the Mountainhomes, the only way to train is under live-fire...
Shortly into the month, an elven caravan arrived. I had numerous goods sent to the depot for trade, as well as "S" sent to watch them in case they came under attack on the journey here, so that any data is recorded of their presumed demise. Unfortunately, they make it safely to the depot and begin trading with bobthethurd:
We trade some of our rock crafts, and a few of the useless instruments I see laying around for their entire supply of wood and barrels. A few barrels of fine vintage wine should add some variety to our meals.
Before the traders leave, Whitecloak the thresher spots a thief on the north bridge. She yells to us at the depot, and I promptly tell her to be proactive. She then promptly punches the kobold off the bridge.
It flees up the mountain after suffering a broken right arm.
Shortly thereafter, Murder Mystery the carpenter spots another thief, but she cannot catch up to it after it starts to flee. We should have never hired them.
I order Drakenel and That Guy Bob to patrol the depot area until the traders finally depart.
Time to take a break from writing, must get my own report sent out, the mechanists said they'd drop by soon to pick it up from the point.
You see an imprint on the back of the page, as if someone had written on the next page and ripped it out, leaving the pressings in the page, however, it appears to be nonsense.
Dpouspm: Ibwf bttvnfc dpouspm pg uif gpsusftt. Qipoz gbdupsz ibt cffo evh pvu, jotubmmjoh nbdijofsz opx. Lpcpme dsfxt bsf ejhhjoh pvu mbc boe uftu dfmmt. Uxp lpcpme hpu hsffez boe usjfe up tufbm tpnf hppet. J ibwf ibe T mjrvjebuf uifn. Hpme ejtdpwfsfe jo uif ejhhjoh, ibwf ije uif gjoe gspn uif gpsusftt.
updates should cover more time now that some of the introductory material is out of the way, and understand my dwarf is not the greatest at cryptography, and this is the last update that will use jpg, per skullbuggy's request.
Bobbin Threadbare wrote :-
My readers must forgive me for jumping ahead in my narrative. It is not my intent to denigrate the many dwarven champions who died in the many sieges to come. Their heroism and sacrifice deserves to be recorded and preserved so that future generations can know of their strength and their courage, but other accounts have done so, and far better than I could ever hope to attempt myself. But their defense of SyrupLeaf is not the true subject of this narrative. The Spawn of Holistic Detective is not the true subject of this narrative.
Instead, I must tell you, dear readers, of the dark society run by supposedly untainted dwarves. I must tell you of the group which calls itself Parasol.
Also, since no one else cares to, here's my own take on how Bobbin Threadbare the dwarf would look:
Quite dashing, if I say so myself.
Skullbuggy wrote :-
"Mind if I let myself in?"
Skullbuggy turned to look at the doorway - he was in the middle of doing paperwork, and he had quite a large stack to do. Whatever this is, it had better be important, he thought. "Yes, who is it?" he asked, calling outside.
Koorisch poked his head through the doorway. "It's me, manager," said Koorisch. "I'm just here to discuss-"
"Come in, have a seat," said Skullbuggy. "I'd rather you talk to me face to face, rather than from the hallway."
Koorisch opened the door, his beard dragging behind him as he walked inside. He grabbed an empty barrel and dragged it up to Skullbuggy's desk and took a seat. "So, Mr. Mengigam-"
"Call me Skullivan," said Skullbuggy, warmly. "No need for formality."
"Well, uh, Skullivan," said Koorisch, "I'm just a bit worried that we might be running out of silk for clothes." Koorisch scratched his head. "I mean, all of our dwarves are clothed with garb to spare, but I'm just a tad worried that maybe they need more clothes and Armok knows that winter's coming up and people should dress extra extra warm-"
"I'll take it up with the Mayor," said Skullbuggy. "We should be able to have some imported if he's in the mood."
Koorisch looked worried, unsurprisingly. "In the... in the mood?"
"Mayor Uzmeng is..." Skullbuggy struggled to find the words. "He's a very nice man, it's just..." Skullbuggy sighed. "Let's just say he's very partial to what comes in and out of Udibgovos."
Koorisch sighed. "Well, if we could get this sorted out soon, Skully," he said, "it'd be great."
"You know, you can... take a break," Skullbuggy said. Koorisch looked confused for a second. "... You don't have to work all day. I can give you some time off if you really need it," said Skullbuggy.
Koorisch lit up. "Y-you mean I can take a rest?" he said, grinning. "Oh, my poor arms have been aching and I've just wanted to get away from that Armok-damned loom for so long and it's just so great that you-"
"Please!" Skullbuggy stopped Koorisch for a second. "Please... return to your quarters. I will inform Mayor Uzmeng of your change in working hours for now, and when you're well rested, I'll have you returning to work in no time."
Koorisch beamed and nodded his head. He got off the barrel, knocking it on the ground. Before he left, he turned to Skullbuggy. "Thank you, Skullivan!" he said.
"Not a problem," said Skullbuggy. "I just want to see happy workers, that's all." Koorisch waved goodbye as he walked out of the room, tripping on his beard as he went.
After Koorisch had left, Skullbuggy reached behind him, grabbed a barrel of ale, and upended it, wiping the froth off of his mustache after he finished. He then rested his head in his hands, sighing. It's not Mayor Uzmeng's fault, he thought. He's got every reason to be protective of this hellhole... what with THEM always traipsing in whenever the hell they feel like it.
Suddenly, he heard a crash and screaming coming from outside the office. Skullbuggy panicked - it could have been THEM for all he knew. Quickly, he grabbed a pickaxe from a rack in his office and headed outside, armed and ready for battle. What he saw, however, was not as expected.
Mayor Bobthethurd was in the halls of Udibgovos, completely wasted and yelling at dwarves who passed by. Skullbuggy dropped his pickaxe and walked up to Bobthethurd. "Mayor, what's wrong?"
"I'll... I'll t-tell you what's wr-wrong," Bobthethurd said, slurring heavily and rocking to and fro as he stood. "Armok... 'mok damn this hellhole. I be-bet... I bet he gots something out f-fer us," he said, hiccupping.
"Mayor!" Skullbuggy said, shocked. "Sit down, sir, please - we need you to calm down-"
"You shut yer Armok damned mouth!" Bobthethurd said, swinging feebly at Skullbuggy. "I'm a... I'm the ma-mayor of this pl-place, and you... you know what?" Bobthethurd chuckled. "I don't care about this place!" Bobthethurd laughed heartily. "I'm- I hope this place, it, I hope it dies!"
Passing dwarves tried not to look at the mayor.
"I bet, I think, I bet," Bobthethurd said, trying to articulate a statement, "I'm gonna run, run away." Bobthethurd giggled madly. "I want to run! Into the sn-snow and out!"
"Mayor, you've got no idea what you're saying," said Skullbuggy. "Get back to your office. Here, let me help you."
Bobthethurd wobbled over to Skullbuggy's dropped pickaxe and grabbed it in his hands. "No! Noooo!" Bobthethurd screamed. "I'm going to have you... for on the wall of my office!"
Bobthethurd ran at Skullbuggy, pickaxe shaking in his hands. Skullbuggy quickly dived out of the way and let Bobthethurd collapse to the ground. Skullbuggy looked over at his fallen friend and heard him grumbling. "Maybe you need to get... pi-pickaxed," Bobthethurd said.
"Oh, Mayor, please..." Skullbuggy sighed, sadly. Suddenly, the Mayor began to cry. Skullbuggy kneeled down to the ground to meet Bobthethurd at almost-eye level.
"I never... I never wanted to be the Mayor!" Bobthethurd said, sniveling. "Goddamn... the Overseer forced me to... and I had to say y-yes, and-"
"Mayor." Skullbuggy picked Bobthethurd up by the arm. "Come with me. I'll help you sober up a bit."
Bobthethurd wept as Skullbuggy helped him up and down the hallway. "D-don't touch me..."