Dear Militia of Passcrafts,
Come ON. It was ONE GOBLIN. One goblin with a SILVER DAGGER. The whole army of the proud dwarven city of Passcrafts just got it's shit wrecked by one sneaking greenskin with a BUTTERKNIFE. You had steel armor and weapons! You outnumbered him ten to one! What happened?
Thanks to your mess, we lost a good farmer because his badger bite got infected. You know why they couldn't treat it? BECAUSE YOU ASSHOLES were lounging in all the hospital beds, recovering from your beatdown at the hands of a silverware wielding greenskin. Do you know what it was like, going up to his wife and telling her her husband died of an easily treatable wound? Or telling his three year old son that his father is never coming home? I expect better from you. All of you.
And by the way? When the next goblin ambush came around, (most of you weren't there - still lazing about in the hospital) the panda I bought on a whim from the elves killed three of them alone. And they were actual soldiers with weapons, instead of some goblin kid with a knife from his mother's kitchen going off to play war against the dwarves! THE PANDA IS A BETTER SOLDIER THAN YOU.
- The Overseer
Dear Hospital Staff of Passcrafts:
Are you serious? There hasn't been a single medical emergency in the history of the fort. Yet the day the entire militia ends up in the hospital pouring blood all over the nice smoothed floors, you decide to have a party in the dining hall? You think just because I don't pay attention to you, you can get away with not doing your JOB!? What did you say when the messenger told you all that Dwarves were DYING?
"Hold on, Logum's about to do a kegstand!" You sicken me. The dwarves of this fortress trusted you with their LIVES, and you BETRAYED them. Thanks to your shenanigans, one of our Axedwarves is dead, another will never walk again, and because you dragged your feet fixing the incompetent band of dipshits we call the militia, one of our best farmers died of an INFECTION. From a BADGER BITE. These were men with families, and you let them die so that you could go dance and get plastered.
I hope it was a good party, to be worth all this. I hope you had fun.
-The Overseer