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DF Dwarf Mode Discussion / Re: Your Dwarf Fortress anecdote - Illustrated!
« on: April 01, 2012, 07:37:21 am »
Once we had a Baroness and her consort show up to our skeleton and vomit encrusted series of meandering caves that passed for a fort. The Baroness was a perfectly sensible Dwarf and apart from her intial demands for an opulent bedroom she pretty much minded her own business. Sometimes we'd hear an order to construct granite hatch covers, not that the fort actually needed any hatch covers, but we were happy enough to carve a few lumps of granite into slabs.
Her consort, the Baron however... in the first month he demanded we make him... mittens. Wool mittens. This was not considered an appropriately Dwarven request, and so it was rightly ignored. Time passed, and some months later there came another request from on high for mittens. This too was ignored. The bleak chill of midwinter set in and we huddled down in our misreable rat infested dirt pile, shivering in the blood stinking halls.
"Mittens."
"No."
Spring arrived, then Summer, and then the least Dwarven mandate we'd ever recieved. The Baron demanded that we construct an ornate gem window for his bedroom. This was ignored. Unfortunately, after mocking and studiously ignoring him for the better part of two years the Baron went berserk. He smashed through his bedroom door and began flailing his fists at a nearby Dwarven child, screaming in incoherent rage. This minor kerfuffle was noticed by a pack of the fortress hounds who set upon the Baron with great fervour, tearing out his throat and biting off both of his hands. The child scampered away, cursing at the mad Dwarf over his shoulder, and the Baron Consort bled to death shamefully, torn to pieces by half-starved mutts.
I ordered half of his remains to be buried in the paupers graveyard, the other half incinerated. Then I renamed his only child "Disgraced".
Her consort, the Baron however... in the first month he demanded we make him... mittens. Wool mittens. This was not considered an appropriately Dwarven request, and so it was rightly ignored. Time passed, and some months later there came another request from on high for mittens. This too was ignored. The bleak chill of midwinter set in and we huddled down in our misreable rat infested dirt pile, shivering in the blood stinking halls.
"Mittens."
"No."
Spring arrived, then Summer, and then the least Dwarven mandate we'd ever recieved. The Baron demanded that we construct an ornate gem window for his bedroom. This was ignored. Unfortunately, after mocking and studiously ignoring him for the better part of two years the Baron went berserk. He smashed through his bedroom door and began flailing his fists at a nearby Dwarven child, screaming in incoherent rage. This minor kerfuffle was noticed by a pack of the fortress hounds who set upon the Baron with great fervour, tearing out his throat and biting off both of his hands. The child scampered away, cursing at the mad Dwarf over his shoulder, and the Baron Consort bled to death shamefully, torn to pieces by half-starved mutts.
I ordered half of his remains to be buried in the paupers graveyard, the other half incinerated. Then I renamed his only child "Disgraced".
