Dear human neighbors,
Look, we enjoy our trading and all. It gives us a chance to shovel out a few tons of goblin pants and carved rock garbage from the ol' hovel, and get some fodder for our weapon traps and whatnots in return.
However, we really don't think deepening our relationship is going to work out all that well when your chosen diplomat spews noxious gas all over the place. I mean, a winning smile only goes so far.
We tried to meet him halfway. We tried to draft the mayor to directly order her to come greet Ambassador Freaky outside, on the off chance he wouldn't knock her unconscious or at least wouldn't attempt to come inside afterward. After all, there are always more mayors. Unfortunately, our mouth-breathing leader decided to eat something, then take a nap. Figures. Elected officials, sucking off the government teat.
When Diplomat Whiffy barged in through the door and destroyed our outdoor farming plots and knocked over a few statues, we tried to be gracious. When wardogs chained to the main stairs started to pass out, we tried to offer him some mints and escort him onto my nice OUTDOOR statue garden to wait for my dumbass mayor. Sadly, he decided to park himself right on the main stairs, knocking out dwarf after dwarf, and monopolizing a critical junction... and access to the hospital while he was at it.
We had all we could stands, and we could stands no more. If it makes you feel any better, one of our wrestlers was promoted to Elite after the brief scuffle; unfortunately, our doctors believe he may not regain consciousness to enjoy the accolades. In turn, Emissary Latrinebritches will doubtlessly enjoy his eternal rest gazing at the vast majesties of the heavens from the comfort of our dump outdoor mausoleum.
We appreciate the extension of your hand of friendship, and we hope that this will not jeopardize your willingness to take away our garbage trade with us in future. In light of our continued friendship, I have enclosed a case of embossed stationary and a tamed cardinal, so that you may correspond with us without resorting to sending excessively-ocular infernal gas-bags. Mr. Tweety knows his way home.
Sincerely,
The Dwarves of Ringtrumpets
PS Please send hospital supplies in your next caravan.
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Topic: Three-eyed devilish diplomat (Read 2688 times)