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[ThatAussieGuy]

Dear UristMcPeon,

I know everybody enjoys a good fist fight every now and then. However, I would posit that picking a fight with the Sheriff/Militia Captain and his +iron battle axe+ may not have been a winning move. In fact, it seems to have been a fast track to a closed-casket funeral.

Idiot.

P.S. Sheriff Dredd, you are familiar with the concept of non-lethal measures, yes? Might consider employing them one of these days.

-mgmt.

(On second thought, nicknaming my Sheriff "Dredd" may not have been the best idea... :/ )

Dear Urist McManagement

I AHM DE LAUH!

Sincerely;
Sheriff Dredd.

[Nyxalinth]

Dear Kobolds of...I'm not even going to try spelling it,

You guys are doing quite well!  You drove off the invading elves that showed before we could finish setting up traps.  Mind, you went from 34 kobolds to 13, losing one to insanity as well, but the elves fled with only three casualties, one being their leader and also, their giant war leopard who was titled and everything.

You all recovered from the brief tantrum spate, and cleaned the place up, buried your dead, and acting like nothing had happened.  Two migrant waves have set things almost back to rights.  I'm impressed.

Dear Mrs. Legendary Fisherbold,

You've had nothing but crap thrown at you since you arrived.  A tiger bit off your hand (a fight you started, might I add, but you drove it off).  Your Legendary Fisherbold hubby died in the aforementioned ambush, and you lost your baby.  Yet you don't let it get you down, which is why when I saw your fighting skills, I made you Warband Marshall as soon as you finally got checked out in the hospital (sorry about the delay in that).  Now you're drilling the other kobolds in the arts of war, and, I imagine, bopping them one with your stump when they do it wrong.  I know you won't disappoint me when the foul tree lovers return.

Dear Witch Doctor,

Excellent work patching up the wounded!  You didn't even have medical skills; I chose you for being energetic and having empathy.

I have no illusions about the eventual fate of this camp, but you guys are awesome while it lasts.

Love,

Your very impressed avatar of kleegreebis

[Garath]

Dear Urist McCaravanguard.

Did you notice the mandril chewing on the pack animal? nooo, you were too busy chasing it's cousins all over the map. And the other traders didn't want to trade untill everyone had arrived. Only when the poor Yak died did the man you were supposed to guard join in the discussions, without any goods though. The trading is finished and things are being packed. Are you going to join the rest of them on their way back or do you prefer chasing monkeys? I hope this letter reaches you before everyone has left.

[Deus Machina]

Dear Urist McEngraver,

While I appreciate you manning up and being the only dorf brave enough to step in and engrave the mayor's apartments while he was in the next room throwing furniture about from being 'forced to live in those conditions,' I feel like it may have been in bad taste to line them with masterfully created images of the previous mayors losing their office.

Actually, you know what? To hell with taste. Every politician should have an employee like you. You're getting new furniture.

[Deus Machina]

Dear Urist McMilitiaCommander,

Don't give me that "-but he is extraordinarily weak" so needs more exercise excuse. You don't need to take care of an entire ambush by yourself. You are also "basically unbreakable and extremely agile," not to mention your steel high boots, greaves, gauntlets, mail, and helm. Over an iron cap. With a hood on top of it.
You also have artifact iron chain leggings, and the fortress' only masterwork iron axe, in the hands of a grand master axedorf.
Aside from that, you have a disconcerting cackle, and "don't really care about anything anymore" aside from you "revelled in slaughter."
The greenies even took a few seasons off after last time, because of you sending that frightening laughter and various limbs bouncing off the canyon walls last season.
Seriously, you're freaking the rest of the squad out. You're a commander. Hang back for five minutes and command, so our dabbling speardorfs can rise above the rank of 1st Class Crossbow Fodder.

[Splint]

Mind, you went from 34 kobolds to 13, losing one to insanity as well

Dear god is it a good thing kobold reproduce in large numbers in that mod...

[Baron Baconeer]

Dear Urist Mc I am not a Vampire.

You may have noticed the new construction effort in the east wing of our fort. Yes, the one where all the marble and the gold furniture goes. Guess what? It's your new house.

That's right, you're now officially the most important person in the fortress. Not only are you our best soldier, but you've also been eating all those children and novice-level farmers, rangers and fishery workers that have been clogging up the fort. Keep up the good work.

Addendum: If I, however, spot you seducing adolescent dwarves and sparkling, you will be appointed as a honorary member of the magma pool surf club.

[Ascimator]

Dear Urist McMiner,
I wonder why would you tell me that you have lots of patience and then leave that 5x5 room unfinished to go grab a bite of these shitty meals I'm filling the stocks up with.

[Loud Whispers]

Dear UristMcChoppedUpZombie,

Gtfo out of my stockpile,

Sincerely, overseer.

[Broseph Stalin]

Dear MigrantMcVampire

You are a vampire. I know this. You haven't been able to breathe for over a month and you can't take a nickname. You are a vampire, we are not falling for it, please go away.

[jaxler]

Dear MigrantMcVampire

You are a vampire. I know this. You haven't been able to breathe for over a month and you can't take a nickname. You are a vampire, we are not falling for it, please go away.

Vamps can't take a nickname. boy that helps

[Eric Blank]

Dear Urists McDorfs

Stop being miserable. It's your own damn fault you brought your families with you when you came here, and it's your own fault you didn't build a wall to keep taht titan out. Now your families are dead. Deal with it in a responsible manner and stop murdering each other.

Sincerely, ghost of your overseer.

[Splint]

Sincerely, ghost of your overseer.

Perhaps the fact you're haunting them with these mysterious letters is upsetting them.

[Gigmaster]

Dear Urist McMiner Pants, and Associated Friends,

It absolutely boggles me right out of my alchlamahol-soaked liver some days, seeing how impossibly dense you are. The fact that legendary miners (such as yourself) and legendary masons (such as yourself) can last as long as you have in your current line of work while exhibiting certain tendencies, is almost as surprising as the fact that a flock of random buzzards succeeded where a hideous forgotten beast of the nether-depths could not.

I specifically direct your attention to your previously-lauded spatial awareness. Any un-mined piece of goblinite could tell you that spatial awareness includes the ability to notice dangers within the space around you. Of immediate notice is the fact that you and your friends insist on cutting out drop holes from the inside of the ring, build yourself into tiny oubliettes and then patiently wait to die, build floodgates from the flood-side of the gate, and will happily channel the floor out from underneath you.

To be fair, I am not entirely certain that the last isn't simply an attempt to learn how to fly, so that you can counter the leathery swarms of meaningless carrion that startle our beloved marksdwarves into the swift and surprisingly lethal rapids that mark the center of our outpost. Though if that be the case, I reserve the right to open a whole new inquiry into your mandatory booze consumption levels and your overall mental health.

As a final note: if you cannot resist the urge to engage in such behavior, please make sure that your picks survive your predictable and anticipated demise(s). We need them more than we need you.

Sincerely,
Your Friendly Expedition Leader

[Deus Machina]

Dear Urist McOptimist,

I do want to thank you for dealing with the long patrol duty to take care of the last human siege.
I also see how losing your left lower arm, a toe, a tooth, and getting your nose broken might give you some bad thoughts, but I would think that didn't quite count as "sustaining minor injuries lately," as you claim.
Since you seem to look on the bright side, you do seem to have "had a nice bath recently," which other dwarves would have called "getting their stump rot cleaned."

The problem here is that your squad was recruited from the peasants and anyone basically useless that could figure out which end of an axe to hold, as 'field medics'-slash-'sock retrievers' so the useful citizens could stay indoors. And whereas that might have worked well a couple times, your optimism does not cross over.

You need to sheath that sword and use your good hand to start dragging people inside. I don't care if you are happy enough with just enough left arm to strap a shield to, Urist McLieutenantDan out in the field can't just 'walk it off'.