Journal of Foreman Hrnac of Nude Juggler
We have beds, and the farm is being set up. But the fact remains, we have no food. People are complaining of being hungry, and we have nothing to give them. This is not totally unexpected, and certainly not the end of the Fortress, but we've encountered a problem.
SIX OF THEM AGAIN.
And the first thing we have to tell them when they get here is that we have no food. Good riddance, this lot looks shifty.
Arrrrgh. Psych evaluations again. Normally I'd say they were useless, but what with the food shortage, and the shady appearance of some of these dwarves, I'd say it'd be worth seeing who will be a liability.
Her psych evaluation says she has an inferiority complex, and feels constantly depressed. A real pity she's currently our only wound dresser. Worryingly, she also has experience in leatherworking, and claims the two businesses are not at all as unrelated as we would like to believe. Seemed to take the food shortage well, immediately blaming herself and running out of the Fortress crying. Oh yeah. She's gonna be a real
Dr. Bad Idea
"What are you trained in?" Mortis leaned nonchalantly against the Obsidian of the entrance hall, glaring at the new migrant over his clipboard.
"I'm a surgeon."
"How would you rate your own skills?"
"Beautiful. Welcome to Nudejugglers...New Head Surgeon."
If we ever have any real injuries, we are SO going to regret that decision.
Former Bowyer for the Tendersteel Armory. He's quite good, and setting up a workshop now. He'll be responsible for making Sergeant Semaj a crossbow. And then making a bunch of other crossbows for us to sell. He's also a "Novice Persuader". I asked him how he came to that conclusion, and he persuaded me that I didn't want to know. Remarkable.
And then there's this guy.
"Good evening gentlemen, nice Fortress you've got here." The dwarf was wearing a hooded pig tail jacket, and twirling his goatee. He was grinning madly, and Hrnac thought he caught a glimpse of a monocle.
"He's a beardless, sir." Hrnac whispered to Mortis. "I'd kick him out."
Mortis stood up straighter and walked up to the dwarf.
"Duke Francis Crumplebottom the Third." he said in an imperious voice, only deigning to barely nod his head in Mortis' direction. Hrnac started. Royalty! Beardless royalty!
"Forgive me my lord," began Hrnac, "it is highly unusual for a duke to arrive at such a time in a fortress' development. If you would like me to prepare accommodations I would be hap-"
"You are a liar and a scoundrel." snapped Mortis. The new migrant deflated. "And we have no use for the likes of you. Get out, before I have Sergeant Semaj escort
you out." He turned away. Hrnac spat at the migrant's feet.
Hrnac strolled off. The migrant stood there for a second, dazed. Then he yelled, "Wait!"
Hrnac turned. The migrant dashed over to the nearby furnace. "Watch this!"
He grabbed a log of wood. And then it was charcoal.
He did it again. And again. Every six seconds, another piece of charcoal. The migrant's eyes were aflame. He did not turn from the furnace as he said quietly,
"Let me remain in this fortress, and I will build you enough charcoal to piss off four nation's worth of Elves."
A dwarf at heart then. I let him stay.
"Hello fellow dwarfs!" the dwarf positively bounced into the Fortress, all beaming eyes and toothy smiles.
"And dare I say, you all look absolutely FABULOUS today!" Hrnac was touched. Most migrants were covered in filth and exhausted from their long journey. This one was positively exuberant.
"My name's Honest McGee, and you're all so special!" he hugged Mortis, leaving him temporarily speechless.
"Look at those muscles! And you," he turned to Hrnac and began shaking his hand vigorously. "You must be the one in charge, I can tell from the intelligent expression on your face and that incredible aura of command that you-"
He stopped. The spell was broken. Mortis' face had gone beet red, and Hrnac jerked his hand free.
"Ah. Bollocks. I overdid it, didn't I?" he straightened. "My name's Honest McGee, and I'm a fisherman. I'll get right to work. Nice meeting all of you." He shook hands once with Mortis, handed him his resume and strolled into the sunshine, heading in the direction of Sergeant Semaj's favorite fishing spot.
Mortis shook his head.
"Keep an eye on him Hrnac. He's a tricky one, but he's worth keeping around. Better than that docD person you insist on keeping here at any rate."
He's setting up a fishery right now. In this fortress, it seems that the more skilled the dwarf, the less sane he will be. Myself excluded.
When we reached the last migrant, she was standing at the entrance looking incredibly embarrassed. Sergeant Semaj and Private Donnally stood stiff as boards before her, their hands plastered to their foreheads in what was an obvious salute. When she noticed Mortis approaching her with a clipboard. She walked to him and shook his hand.
"Fisherman Cortilian, looking forward to liv-"
"LIES!" screamed Semaj, staring straight ahead, still stiff, still saluting. "Before you is Officer Cortilian of the United Fortress Defense Network, responsible for commanding at least three squads in four different major battles defending the Mountainhome against the goblin hordes!" Semaj went slightly cross-eyed."WE ARE STANDING IN THE PRESENCE OF A HERO, SIR!"
Silence followed this proclamation. Cortilian's shoulders slumped. Mortis crossed over to Semaj and looked him in the eye.
"Are you saying we could use her in the military?"
"I'm just a fisherdwarf!" cried Cortilian.
"The war stuff was years ago, I just fish now!"
"Fish in your spare time, Commander." Mortis turned to her. "As of right now, you are in charge of this Fortress' defenses. Congratulations Commander, I expect to see an immediate improvement in overall Fortress security. See docD and Bad Shepherd about arming your men. I recommend that you spend some time fishing with Semaj however," Mortis said, heading back into the fortress. "There is a bit of a food shortage right now."
OOC: That's the migrants taken care of! Despite being a High Master Fisherdwarf, Commander Cortilian has a worrying amount of military oriented skills. While it is difficult to write for characters with skills such as "Professional Liar" and "High Master Wood Burner", they definitely lend a bit of life and personality to the Fortress. I don't think the lying will do much in the way of the food shortage, though.