To whom it may concern,
I've been stuck here for two years now, I was promised a one-year sentence!
And now I'm stuck re-assuming tenure as Overseer because for some reason the locals decided a guy in a dumb alien costume would be a great leader. Delmont says the guy looks like his cousin, but that can't be right because that'd mean it's the CEO.
Things are bad, morale is low and that means the prisoners and security staff are liable to come to blows. I'll do my best to keep the prison operational, if only for the sake of getting my damned sentence dealt with.
Anyway, this is my fourth request to have my sentence reviewed so I can depart, and I'll be awaiting the response as I have for over a year now.
- Splint Oaktomes
PS: If it turns out that spindly shit is the CEO I'm going to strangle him.
-
Letter written, Splint decided to take stock of what was around him. He'd tried to ignore the goings on of the fortress, hiding out in the miserable excuse of a forgeworks.
The first things he found were a pair of abandoned books. After the hallway that was a slurry of blood and vomit from one of the costumed goons getting his ass beaten by the guards. Splint was certain the guy was dead. Police brutality'd do that.
He found what seemed to be an unsent letter and an unkindly-written guide on the author's home town. He suspected they didn't like growing up in a hill town or some such.
He also noted the heap of skulls and hooves in front of the depot for whatever reason.
"Why on- You know what, no. Not asking that question," He said as he walked over to the heap. He then turned to the nearest dwarf, a bard named Dastot.
"Get this junk processed, don't need these skulls and whatnot spooking the wagon animals in autumn," he said as he tossed a llama skull to the bard.
"What if they want more decor up?" Dastot asked as he gestured to the pile of hooves.
"Meh, I'll talk to Salmeuk, see about getting some festive skeleton staues put in the entrance."
From there he tracked down Delmont and shoved some work orders in his hands. "Get these doled out. The iron stuff will be fine, but I want a minimum of steel shirts and helmets. And find that alien, the contractor with the glowie blue axe. Have him take Bembul's spot in the militia."
"Planning to run off those louts outside I take it?" Delmont said as he looked over the orders.
"Once we have a baseline of gear, yes," Splint said with a nod. "We'll just have to hope for the best that Security can handle it."
As he began looking over some of the stocks, which showed they had hundreds of iron and steel bars, plus ample platinum to make more souvenir coins, a notice came in of a birth among Zultan's medical staff.
He passed a congratulations along, then focused on other matters. With metal abundant, he had the inmates focus on fuel production and converting all the useless, ugly siltstone into trinkets to sell at the gift shop.
He also decided to inspect some of the local art, seeing how well the inmates and staff were keeping to the prison's enforced spirit.
(For whatever reason there is just a shitload of smooth pebble engravings, but these were interesting.)
He couldn't help but feel that some were prophetic warnings of the underground. With this in mind, he talked to Delmont about updating the militia's war gear to a basic outfit of a helm, shield, mail shirt and whatever weapon they preferred that was sitting around.
He also put a hand to Delmont's shoulder, and told him to turn over his security badge.
"What? Why?" Delmont asked, clearly incredulous.
"Because you just aren't a good fit for soldiering," Splint said, presenting his file. "Says here your mental fortitude has never been the best on your psyche profile, and there's a leatherworker named Ineth who isn't on staff who has basic training already, they'll fill your spot."
"And that aside, lots of folk leaning on you right now. Best not to have you distracted worrying about the fight to come."
With that he also assigned the Devil Barracks to the squad, dubbed The Master of Fear, so they could try to get some basic skills and discipline under their belts. Especially since, unless those clowns outside left before the end of the month, they'd be
forced to run them off to get at the wood outside to get production back underway if nothing else.
He'd also decided the cells would need expanding and they would need the cots anyway. The fact this would yield much-needed limestone in light of the steel industry devouring everything they'd produced already was a bonus, and would mean more commemorative mugs would be available for the autumn export. The expansion also seemed to get one of the entertainers' attention, who applied for full citizenship!
Well, full staff privileges anyway. Why not, he'd been here long enough.
Come mid-slate though, with the need for beds to mitigate low morale, the order came.
The gate was lowered and Security mustered. What happened to the inmates as in the gods' hands now.
One of the creatures made vulgar displays and hurled insults, which served little purpose as it took shots at the advancing guards. One, Ral, lost his weapon as they charged hurling insults in kind, being shot in his axe arm, while Rith the hammer recruit caved in the intruder's skull after Ineth had cut away the foe's foot.
Salmeuk then led the pair after the ghost that had attempted to slime him, while Truuz the alien mercenary lead the rest against the other. Truuz in particular seemed to not like the one he dove on.
What possessed him to bite her ear off like Mike Tyson, the world may never know, though he did bellow "YOU DON'T BELONG IN THIS WORLD, HARLOT!" as he stood and began hacking away with his new, fine iron axe.
By the end of it, it was the slime ghost as the last man standing, cut apart by angry dwarves and an alien. When all was said and done, two of the inmates were injured while the intruders all lay slain.
The force the ghost had hurled his slime and slapped at her left Rith crippled on the floor and in need of stitches, while Ral needed the arrows extracted from his limbs. After that, the long-dead bard Rith proceeded to harangue the clean-up crew and several itinerant bards descended on the opened gates. This prompted the order for a tomb to be constructed.
The Hammerdwarf meanwhile seemed contented by the violence, even if the conflict terrified her, citing that "Those bastards took my Bembul, they deserved every second of suffering." Splint considered it a good thing that she wasn't holding Notphonso responsible for the lever incident last year. Now if only they could get his ghost to stop moping around the tavern...
It wasn't long after this that Splint remembered rumblings that the dwellers below had become restless in the past years. This made him feel some sense of folly in his plan to breach the deep and only have a handful of cage traps prepared. More would be needed, to stem the tide if not halt it, before they did that.
Stonefalls would do amid the cages, but discs and spikes would serve better in the corridor beyond the doors.
That was for another time, a turkey had to be slain as a precaution and more blocks made for a surgeon named Minkot, who set about making some kind of object in the clothier's shop below.
It seemed it had a print of a dwarf lord defeating some godless monsters decades ago.
The next few weeks passed more or less quietly, the inmates doing their best to handle various matters. Morale remained exceptionally low though.
It would be the shrieking of a burned woman outside to herald Hematite, however.
The fight went better than expected, the slimer breaking someone's foot notwithstanding. I went in entirely expecting someone to be shot in the head, but no permanent injuries were sustained.
Yeah this place is a mess, just two ghosts single-handedly destroyed morale in this place. It also took hiring a new guy to go and clean that mess in the hall outside the pumpkin tavern, which lingered for months.
Roughly a third of the population is some flavor of pissed off, and I dunno when the riot will break out, but the way things are going it's going to be soon. The inbound flock of assholes is bound to make the situation actively worse and to get the situation under control so the fort doesn't die prematurely, bare minimum I need to get rid of one of the ghosts.
Ideally I'd like to get rid of both, but I'll leave that up to you guys to decide.
EDIT
There is now a pedestal with severed martian heads out front decorating it.
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Topic: Spookyfort IV: The Overlook - Overspookers welcome! (Read 17757 times)