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Author Topic: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Overseers desperately needed!  (Read 37297 times)

De

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #15 on: November 20, 2015, 10:38:19 pm »

Here are some interesting things I've found though I'm not sure if they can even be incorporated in.

-Difio, the quiet dwarf nobody's supposed to notice is Neblime the tongueless Poacher's father. I've labelled him Shy Guy so he'll be easier to find. Neblime's mother Likot died at some point but.... his younger brother Professor Quasar is still quite alive and kicking.

-Most of the dwarves in Icehold are related in some way. We could just ignore it, but I prefer to think of it as the Queen targeting specific families, maybe they're all long time crime families, that sort of cycle can be hard to break, but it could also be blood lines that threaten her power base. Which makes me wonder, what would she think of the dwarves of Icehold going out of their way to breed and protect children up in this fortified, hard to reach, place?

PS: What does the extra lever in the lever room do?

PPS: I can see why it takes forever to do anything. Do we have a barracks? I had to disband the military to get rid of all the crazies and set up a new squad under Sanctume. Where do I have them train?

PPPS: Why do 50 odd dwarves live in one of the most massive, sprawling fortresses I've ever seen?
« Last Edit: November 20, 2015, 11:35:29 pm by De »
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Taupe

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #16 on: November 20, 2015, 11:54:29 pm »

PS: What does the extra lever in the lever room do?

Experiement 2x: Overseer willpower strain test.
Goal: Test the limit of one's ability to resist pushing a mysterious lever.
Apparatus: 1 lever, various unconnected, unfinished devices with possibly deadly consequences.
Procedure: Subject is presented with 1 unlabbelled, extra lever. No instructions are given regarding its use. Each day, notes and indications are left regarding various mechanical projects that may or may not save or doom the fortress. Increase the perceived lethality/benefits of pushing the lever with each passing month. Careful notes should be kept regarding the mental degradation of the subject.
Hypothesis: Subject will slowly go mad with inner questioning and self-doubt.
Result: New overseer activated the lever multiple time withing the first minute to determine effect.

Conclusion: No breakthrough in the field of dwarven psychology was made, although the inquisitive nature of the subject is saluted.

De

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #17 on: November 21, 2015, 12:06:50 am »

PS: What does the extra lever in the lever room do?

Experiement 2x: Overseer willpower strain test.
Goal: Test the limit of one's ability to resist pushing a mysterious lever.
Apparatus: 1 lever, various unconnected, unfinished devices with possibly deadly consequences.
Procedure: Subject is presented with 1 unlabbelled, extra lever. No instructions are given regarding its use. Each day, notes and indications are left regarding various mechanical projects that may or may not save or doom the fortress. Increase the perceived lethality/benefits of pushing the lever with each passing month. Careful notes should be kept regarding the mental degradation of the subject.
Hypothesis: Subject will slowly go mad with inner questioning and self-doubt.
Result: New overseer activated the lever multiple time withing the first minute to determine effect.

Conclusion: No breakthrough in the field of dwarven psychology was made, although the inquisitive nature of the subject is saluted.

I have not touched that lever. I am too busy disbanding all the food stockpiles to convince the dwarves to move the pigtails to somewhere they can process them so we can make clothes because everybody is basically naked. Levers can go hang.

Edit: DDDragoni, I love the "You should work on increasing happiness because some dwarves are almost crazy" and not the "BTW, I ordered a bunch of peoples' pets slaughtered". Correlation is not necessarily causation but still... You ordered Honeymoon's pets slaughtered. Honeymoon's! You monster. Or was this Urvad's revenge? She trying to get a little respect back?
« Last Edit: November 21, 2015, 12:11:51 am by De »
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Taupe

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #18 on: November 21, 2015, 12:16:32 am »

Edit: DDDragoni, I love the "You should work on increasing happiness because some dwarves are almost crazy" and not the "BTW, I ordered a bunch of peoples' pets slaughtered". Correlation is not necessarily causation but still... You ordered Honeymoon's pets slaughtered. Honeymoon's! You monster. Or was this Urvad's revenge? She trying to get a little respect back?
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
ARMOK.

You told the butchers to scathe MAFOL!?!

You know what they do with revenges in the Mbfia (The bee-based second grade mafia)? They out-revenge them.
« Last Edit: November 21, 2015, 12:32:18 am by Taupe »
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De

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #19 on: November 21, 2015, 12:58:35 am »

Edit: DDDragoni, I love the "You should work on increasing happiness because some dwarves are almost crazy" and not the "BTW, I ordered a bunch of peoples' pets slaughtered". Correlation is not necessarily causation but still... You ordered Honeymoon's pets slaughtered. Honeymoon's! You monster. Or was this Urvad's revenge? She trying to get a little respect back?
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
ARMOK.

You told the butchers to scathe MAFOL!?!

You know what they do with revenges in the Mbfia (The bee-based second grade mafia)? They out-revenge them.

Hush, hush. I found the butchers in time and stopped it. Thank goodness I happened to be perusing the kitchen area and stumbled across the act in progress. I've put a stop to all butchering for the time being. We have tons of food and other problems anyway. I think something must have gotten mixed up, cause there were a couple of peoples pets ordered to the chopping block and honestly since most of these dwarves are teetering on the edge of sanity I really doubt it was intentional.

Edit: Does anyone want to be dorfed as a male mason before I name him in post and make the transition to being dorfed awkward? Gwolfsky? Does anyone want to be the administrative cousins of a political upstart? I've got one of each gender, going fast. One's a male legendary spear dwarf on the very edge of sanity, the other's a legendary female sworddwarf, one of the few fighters left in the actual militia. For that matter, does anyone want to be a poet sentenced to exile for speaking out against the queen and committing "unspeakable" sexual acts with other young lady literary types? I think I'm going to play as DeMarco so the poet is up for grabs. Don't miss your chance to say you died in Icehold!
« Last Edit: November 21, 2015, 01:42:56 am by De »
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DDDragoni

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #20 on: November 21, 2015, 01:27:35 am »

I think what happened there was I ordered a bunch of animals slaughtered back in Summer to try and handle the dog problem, and when no one ever did that I assigned war dogs at random but never cancelled the butchering.

But in character, that was totally Urkad being petty.
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Gwolfski

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #21 on: November 21, 2015, 07:09:46 am »

Quote
want to be the administrative cousins of a political upstart
this guy, i think
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Difio

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #22 on: November 24, 2015, 08:52:37 pm »

...
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De

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #23 on: November 25, 2015, 12:53:51 am »

Okay so here's the skinny. I've got this thing called Meniere's disease which sometimes makes me really dizzy but I'm pretty used to it. I hadn't had a problem with it for a couple months then these last two weeks I've been worse than ever. This time there's a headache that comes along with pretty intense nausea and loss of vision in my left eye. I went to the doctors and they've told me this just happens to some people and there's nothing I can do about it. So for the foreseeable future double vision, puking and intermittent blindness are just how I roll. I've only managed to play a couple of months of Icehold. I've reorganized the military and my current project is getting all the VIP citizens into full leather armor that won't wear out because clothes in Icehold are a major source of unhappiness. Also The Place is lacking some vital supplies and I haven't worked out how to help them yet. I have a couple pages of narrative stuff written up, most of it was done before the head splitting, sight destroying headache hit. I've been struggling to finish up the beginning of the "intro" and move on to telling about the three months I've managed to play (lots of dwarves going insane and slipping into depression) but it's a struggle. Do you guys want the narrative stuff or should we revert the save to before my turn? I'm happy to keep playing, I'm certainly not getting out of bed much, but I can see people are impatient I don't blame them.

Here's at least something.

« Last Edit: November 25, 2015, 01:15:23 am by De »
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DDDragoni

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #24 on: November 25, 2015, 01:22:59 am »

Oh my god that sounds horrible. All my sympathies go out to you. Don't stress yourself worrying about getting Icehold done- if you need rest, then you need rest.

I think the decision to revert, hand over the save, or keep playing should be between you and Shofet- if you feel up to continue/if Shofet doesn't want to wait
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The Succession Tower, ConstructIvory
Bonepillar                    Thunderdoom
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De

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #25 on: November 25, 2015, 02:47:16 am »

Oh my god that sounds horrible. All my sympathies go out to you. Don't stress yourself worrying about getting Icehold done- if you need rest, then you need rest.

I think the decision to revert, hand over the save, or keep playing should be between you and Shofet- if you feel up to continue/if Shofet doesn't want to wait

It's not the playing that bothers me so much as the writing it up. It frustrates me because I had plans for the write up man. Also, I witnessed what I'm pretty sure is Icehold's first official cold blooded murder. Which is always fun. If I can't whip up something by tomorrow I'll PM Shofet.
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Shofet

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #26 on: November 25, 2015, 09:22:32 pm »

Thats terrible  :-[

Ill be honest, I've played DF a bit, but Ive never played a succesion fort before. If someone could give me a brief summary of what to do, to grab the save and open it, that would be awesome.

If you want more time feel free de

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uber pye

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #27 on: November 25, 2015, 09:36:13 pm »

if ya cant do a full write up you could outline it, but do what ya wanna do, just don't kill yurself de.
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De

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #28 on: November 25, 2015, 11:37:30 pm »

Here it is, just before the deadline. For fun, see if you can't pick out which parts were written pre or post headache.



Part One: A Pig in a Poke


Urkad made a sound somewhat resembling the cry of a giant cave swallow, and ran away as fast as her legs would carry her.
Honeymoon straightened herself up, regaining her composure.

“Well,” she said, addressing the assembled dwarves. “Looks like we need a new Overseer.”

There was a moment in which all eyes were on Icehold’s principle administrator, and then they turned away. Someone sneezed. People were suddenly very busy over their yeti and plump helmet stew. Honeymoon continued to stand there in the cavern dining hall while the lamp light caught the gem window center piece and cast rainbows across every downturned face.

“Oh come on,” she goaded. “I refuse to let this place die and sink into obscurity simply because no one was willing to step up. Last year everyone was clamoring for a piece of the action and now this?”

There was a polite cough from near stairs, one of the stairs, and the resident Professor spoke up. “Really it’s not that big of a job, there are only fifty… er… thirty of us left out here in the fortress, compared to what other Overseers face that’s hardly a task to tax any dwarf. Although,” he hastily threw up his hands as if to ward off the gaze of the handful of faces that had turned towards him, “I could not possibly take it on myself at this time. I simply could not continence any further interruption of my valuable work.”

There was a kind of collective shuffle and murmur.

“Maybe we should get the stick out again? Remember when we did the stick thing?”

“That’s how we ended up with that kid overseeing the place; that was a stupid idea.”

“Hey! That kid was the best Overseer we ever had!”

“Wasn’t he the one who built the mine cart track of perpetual death?”

“Well you don’t have to agree with every policy to still think someone was a great leader.”

“He’s gone though, like most of the kids.”

Spoiler: uber_pye in The Place (click to show/hide)

Recollection gradually shifted attention towards another former Overseer. The mysterious Captain of the Guard, Deus, was at that moment refilling his silver flask at the beer keg. He looked up as the murmuring subsided and he felt the group focus coalesce around him. He confronted this influx of hope with stony impassivity.

“May I remind you all that I fulfilled my term as Overseer a mere three years ago? You cannot expect me to save you every time. Indeed,” he went about the task of sealing his flask and tucking it away inside his armor in a deliberate slow manner that made it impossible for anyone observing to miss the recent bandaging and the obviously still painful wounds, “my last attempt at rescue was almost… my last.” He frowned, more concerned about the stylistic infelicity in his previous statement than he was about his recent brush with death, if truth was to be told.

Spoiler: Deus's Health (click to show/hide)

Group awareness turned to the hero of the recent battle against the goblins. Shofet the Cannibal was diligently attempting to loosen a scrap of… something that had become wedged between his back teeth and failed to notice that he had become the subject of brief, horrified, mass contemplation.

Spoiler: Shofet the Cannibal (click to show/hide)

“Has anyone seen Black Pat?” asked someone.

“She hardly ever comes out of the hospital anymore,” was the answer everyone already knew. Black Pat had exhausted her life’s supply of patience years ago.

Likewise, no one needed to bring up the Vesh worshipper. People like that had their place to be sure, the Eye Stabber was rumored to be a follower of the deity herself, but one didn’t want them in charge… or back in charge at any rate. The dwarf known as Lord Lubbie wasn’t hanging around the booze stockpile because he tended to spend all day out working in the fields until he collapsed; no one suggested fetching him.

Spoiler: Lord Lubbie Labors On (click to show/hide)

“Wasn’t there another guy? From awhile ago…”

“Yeah, yeah, he was alright.”

There was an audible clunk as Neblime the Poacher dropped his stone mug on the table and sat up, alert.

“What was his name?”

The Poacher stood up.

“I remember, Zaneg wasn’t it?”

And then he sat back down, swiping the mug off the table with a single swat.

“I dunno, Zaneg’s pretty weird.”

“What makes you say that?”

“About five years of being married to her.”


“Oh...”

Unable to take much more of this, Honeymoon threw up her hands and walked out of the cavern. She stormed up to her bedroom and threw herself onto her bed where she spent a few soothing hours studying the design of the bedposts. Behind her, Icehold gradually subsided back into its accustomed quiet gloom.


~~~


DeMarco didn’t have friends any more. This wasn’t really a problem. It was because most everyone she’d really known had gone off with that weirdo, Onul, to The Place and so long as they were there, she wouldn’t have to watch them die. That was good. After what had happened to her sister, and her mom and her… father, DeMarco was sick of watching people die. That said, it was important to know how to make small talk because if you didn’t people assumed you were having some kind of episode and that was how accidents happened. When everyone was feeling just a wee bit jumpy like this, it didn’t hurt to take an extra five minutes to discuss the weather. Not that the weather was ever any different.

Spoiler: DeMarco's family (click to show/hide)

Still, when she’d said ‘hello’ to the dead-eyed, ancient weaver woman sitting next to her she hadn’t meant anything by it. All she’d wanted was to get through the obligatory sanity litmus test in as quick a fashion as possible. How had she gotten into a gods damned conversation?

“There are few things left in life that truly irk me,” the weaver had announced, “small talk is one of them. I hate pointless chatter, such a waste of good words. If one is going to talk, one should truly communicate, don’t you think? True communication is an exchange of souls. So tell me, what are you in for?”

DeMarco gaped. “Are you nuts? You don’t fucking ask that, this is Icehold!”

“Really? I’ve never noticed anyone else being particularly coy about their history, except for maybe that Deus fellow.”
“That’s because nobody gives a shit about the past here. None of that matters, not since we were sent to die in this place. Who gives a flying fuck about any of it now?”

“I was simply making conversation. And anyway, as young as you are, I really doubt you were the one sentenced for any crimes, sent here with your parents weren’t you? We have a surprising number of children and families in this place.”

“Not that surprising really,” replied DeMarco. The severity of her scowl drew deep grooves on her face, prematurely aging her well past her actual sixteen years. “It’s bad blood, that’s all. Trouble runs in the family, that’s what my mum used to say, might as well send the brats up here and save time later. Most dwarves are born assholes anyway.”

“You make an interesting point,” said the weaver. She tilted her head and studied the young dwarf. DeMarco squirmed in her seat. She felt a deep need to look away from the dull depths of those eyes. She thought she had gotten pretty much inured to dealing with people who had a screw loose. “You agree with the Queen’s policy then? I always thought it was the duty of the young to question every decision made by their elders.”

Spoiler: DeMarco's Values (click to show/hide)

“I don’t care what decisions anyone makes, it’s none of my business.” DeMarco hunched her shoulders forward and turned away from the old dwarf, pretending to focus on her meal even though the giant rat brain roast wasn’t really doing anything for her today. That was when the squealing caught her attention. Grateful for something to focus on that wasn’t an elderly dwaf with something missing behind her eyes or lukewarm congealing glop that was meant to be lunch, she craned her neck to see through the door.

Spoiler: Rat Brain Roast (click to show/hide)

Outside a burly dwarf DeMarco had seen around, in Icehold you saw everyone on a regular basis whether you wanted to or not, was leading a couple of war dogs and one loudly protesting pig towards the butcher’s block kept behind the chicken/duck/goose/helmet snake coop. There’d been a lot of this lately, Overseer Urkad had ordered a bunch of the animals butchered saying she couldn’t stand the mess or the noise they made. DeMarco had blocked it out, except something about this scene was… off.

“Hey wait a minute, isn’t that Honeymoon’s pig?”

The weaver peered through the door. “I confess one pig looks very much like another to me, though there aren’t many in this fortress to choose between so I suppose it must be somebody’s pig.”

“He can’t slaughter Honeymoon’s pets!” DeMarco was aghast. “There are rules against it and everything!”

“To paraphrase your charming idiom: this is Icehold, who gives a flying fuck about rules?”

Before she knew what was happening, DeMarco was on her feet and running towards the open cavern. Among dwarves, the tradition of the battle cry runs deep. There have been many uttered throughout the ages, some more inspiring than others but all of them delivered with passion. DeMarco drew in a breath that went all the way to her belly and bellowed with a force granted to her by the ancestors.

“Hey shitface! Unhand that pig!”

The dwarf turned towards her and raised the giant hammer in his hand, probably out of instinct but DeMarco skidded to a stop while she was still out of arm’s reach anyway. She recognized him now that she saw the hammer. He was Shorast, one of their kind-of-sort-of-masons. In Icehold a lot of dwarves were kind-of-sort-of various professions. He was big and tough and even less given to compassion and empathy then most of the fort’s populace. At the moment he was boggling at her in surprise but that would no doubt change if she gave it a chance to.

“Those animals aren’t part of the livestock, they’re Miss Honeymoon’s pets,” she said, hoping this would be all the explanation needed. It wasn’t.

“Bugger off kid, I’ve got my orders from the Overseer to do these in and be quick about it. Go play somewhere else or I’ll go upside your head first, teach you some manners.” Shorast grinned at her and waved the blood spattered butcher’s tool in her face. DeMarco forced all her joints to lock so that she neither cringed away nor stepped back.

“If by “the Overseer” you mean Urkad Gleamcloister, I believe she is no longer the head of Icehold as of last week.” The voice coming out of nowhere almost made DeMarco jump after all. She hadn’t realized that the weaver had followed.

“Who the fuck are you, old lady?” demanded Shorast.

“Thob Worldglove, creator of Egath Gembish the silk shoe, weren’t you in the meeting hall when Urkad… stepped down?”

Spoiler: Thob (click to show/hide)

“I was around when all that bullshit with the Queen Bee happened. You know what I didn’t see? Someone else stepping up, that makes Urkad the boss as far as I’m concerned.”

“Urkad’s a bully,” said DeMarco, “and if she told you to kill Honeymoon’s pets then she’s fucking sneak of a backstabber too.”
“Watch your mouth brat; you’re talking about your betters.” Shorast waved the hammer at DeMarco again. She caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and couldn’t help an instinctive flinch. Shorast’s leer grew broader still.

“I would hardly call a coward who sends the likes of you to do her dirty work for her anyone’s better,” said Thob.

“Shut up and sit down, dumb bitch.” Shorast sounded tired and bored. He tried to push his way past them but DeMarco managed to tangle herself in the leashes, by now both dogs were barking in counterpoint to the pig’s violent squealing. “Now look what you’ve done! I’m gonna have to tell the boss about this.”

“We’ve told you, ignorant clout, Urkad is no longer the boss,” replied Thob. Her face was preternaturally calm.

“Are you going to try to tell me that you are?” demanded Shorast.

For the first time, Thob took a step back. “Oh no, I don’t become… involved with politics these days.”

“I am,” said DeMarco. The blood was pounding in her ears and she felt a bit dizzy but she wasn’t about to back off, if you did that in a place like this you would never stop.

“You?” Shorast stared down at her. “You and what army?”

“She hardly needs an army. Tradition dictates that when the last Overseer fails to appoint a successor then the post is left open for the next person who volunteers for it,” said Thob.

Shorast snorted. “Who’s going to listen to her?”

“They will listen to me.” The declaration was delivered at normal volume, at some point the pig and dogs had stopped their protesting noise. Shorast whirled around and found himself face to face with the manager, bookkeeper, and de facto king maker of Icehold, Honeymoon Ashenchannel. He bent back, trying to put distance between himself and the heliotrope fire of her gaze. She leant towards him, smiling and scratching at her pig’s snout while he made happy grunting noises. “I know this wasn’t your idea Shorast, and you made me a mighty fine bed back in the day, so I’m going to let you walk away from this, but by bloody fucking Armok if I find you scathed so much as a hair on Mafol’s chin there will not be enough left of you to fill one of the Professor’s specimen vials. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Miss Honeymoon!”

“Good, run along now.”

Shorast dropped the leashes and his hammer and took off for the stairs at an awkward half jog, trying to pretend like nothing had happened. Thob Worldglove bent down and helped DeMarco disentangle herself while Honeymoon made a fuss over the pig and two dogs.

“Hush, hush, honey love, everything’s better now. And some guard dogs you turned out to be, still I’m glad you’re not supper, stringy things that you are.” She looked up and saw that DeMarco had finally regained her feet. “Thanks for stepping in there kid, I owe you one.”

DeMarco felt her face going hot, which was only more embarrassing. She stammered. “N- no, you don’t. It’s cool.”

The Queen Bee of Icehold stared back at her, her expression distant and calculating. “If you say so, but I’m probably going to owe you a few after this.” She stood up and cupped her hands to her mouth. “Ladies and Gentledwarfs we have a new Overseer, DeMarco Sealwashed!”

DeMarco’s mouth dropped open until Thob elbowed her in the back and she remembered to close it. The dwarves of Icehold stared at them for a moment or two and then went back to this business shuffling around the caverns. The show, at least for the time being, was over and life went on.
« Last Edit: November 26, 2015, 09:22:22 pm by De »
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QuQuasar

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Re: Icehold, the Dwarven Prison: Now under new managment
« Reply #29 on: November 26, 2015, 03:12:18 am »

Wonderful writing De! Very fitting for Icehold, and you've stayed nicely in-character all the previously established dwarves. It's good to see the spare dwarves getting characterized, too.

All in all, a most promising start, if sadly lacking in the scientific department. It would have been most educational to perform a few psychological tests on Honeymoon in the event of Mafol's death. Preferably while well-armored.

Quote
“I know this wasn’t your idea Shorast, and you made me a mighty fine bed back in the day, so I’m going to let you walk away from this, but by bloody fucking Armok if I find you scathed so much as a hair on Mafol’s chin there will not be enough left of you to fill one of the Professor’s specimen vials. Do you understand me?”
Curses! I need to refill my stocks of dwarf extract, too. I guess I'll just have to keep waiting on someone to die.
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