Elves don't eat dwarf food, they give it to their animals. They buy meat from dwarves since they're loathe to kill animals themselves, and trade is a good way to feed the carnivorous pets (and pawn off the extras). Some bear eats the tainted food and gets sick, and the disease spreads from creature to creature around the forest until all the animals are rotten. And that's how skelk are created. Way to go, elves.
I'm not sure what exactly is causing our case of rot, but it doesn't seem to be spreading any further now, and all the infected animals are long dead. The affected dwarves appear stable, they seem to be alright except for the miasma constantly coming off them. It's a pretty strange situation.
Wastedlabor Whiptalk is a very friendly marksdwarf who is getting used to tragedy.
I'm almost done with the turn, should be finished by tomorrow. Thanks for your patience, folks. FPS has risen as of late, getting about 10-11 now.
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Journal of Mayor Sethud Crewbronze, ExcerptsMore migrants arrived today, which brings our number to 35. I can to little to conceal the existence of the plague, and personally, I'm trying not to think of it all, though I admit the disease is far more manageable than I'd first worried. In fact, aside from moderate discomfort and routine surgeries, life for us afflicted hasn't changed all too much. I surmise that Deduk was correct in that the worst of the trouble has passed, but while there are suspicions, the source of the outbreak remains an unsolved mystery.
As for Deduk, no one's encountered her for weeks, and I suspect she's left us for good. I hope she finds some peace one day. If not for her I'd have never found the fortress log's copies, hidden away in Lesser Ardentdikes. They tell a chilling tale. We've sharply stepped up coffin production to bury all the dead we haven't yet uncovered.
According to the logs, Urist McDuck, who is still at large, is wanted for several counts of murder and vandalism. Until I see his body, I'm keeping my axe handy.
Repairs to the magma plumbing are underway, and renewal of Greater Ardentdikes continues. Half of us are occupied hauling goods and garbage around, while the other half are finishing half-finished projects scattered about the fort. Paths have been renovated, new paths created, mass graves organized, bodies buried, hastily placed coffins exhumed and relocated. New staircases are finished along with new mechanical security systems. Shops are rebuilding and doors are setting back into place. It's arduous, hazardous, rewarding work that will be worth it in the end.
It takes more than the threat of death to dissuade the dwarven spirit! Come to think of it, I haven't seen Medtob in a while.
During the meeting, The visiting traders have been doing business with our broker. I've made certain a few guidelines are met.
Cages are important, not just for the zoo going up in my house.
I will explain in due fashion, but first I must recount the meeting with the outpost liaison. Our list of requests to the merchants back home was none too lengthy.
Our boldness will increase public confidence in our expedition. In the one move of ordering only massive quantities of mined gold, we boast of our wealth, security and self-sufficiency. Prospective migrants will flock to our fort when talk of this order reaches the ears of the peasantry.
When I saw the Mountainhome's ledger for goods, I had to suppress a smile. We'll need to be mindful of what we give them next year.
Following the meeting, I took the liaison on a brief tour of the fort to show off our progress, during which we were both disgusted by the state of the infirmary ward. The doctor should be arrested for such neglect.
The liaison left on his journey home, with a promise to return and a smile that sat well with my chances of becoming baron someday. I found the broker, who reported great success with the merchants. At my request we've made a sizable offering to the royalty, free of charge, to further demonstrate our prosperity. The caravans left with enough clothing to last an entire village's lifetime.
There was one incident, however, when Mafol was badly burned trying to gather goods out of a stockroom with a never-ending fire.
Yes, about that:
The room contains many treasures (which are now off-limits), among which are several artifacts comprised of bituminous coal. These objects are extremely hot to the touch and are perpetually smoking, but they ignite neither themselves or the items around around them.
Mafol seems to be alright despite his burns, and asked he be allowed to continue working. What a weirdo.
I've just received word that the execution tower is ready for use. Testing will begin immediately.
And more good news. My foot has been healed, thanks to our resident surgeon Sarvesh. There's been no sign of reinfection and my prognosis is great. I may have stomach trouble for the rest of my life, but I think I can live with that if I can still live! We have truly rounded the corner of sorrows, and sail steady into glory!
Winter already? But the brook's only been frozen the entire time we've been here.
* * *
Meanwhile:
how to speak the name of the alien beyond voids when no words or minds may covet the existence of IMINU
father of tears encompassing hue of the foul but in the vast undulating wrongness of reality none may so compare to that monstrous name that affront to mortal tongues that no earthly discontinuance can hope to overcome the salt in the wounds of the soul
IMINU
Author
Topic: Ardentdikes - Absolute disaster - (31.25) (Succession)(Need Players!) (Read 212308 times)