Journal of "Mr. Vile" Organboots, Fortress Appraiser.

Slate

If it keeps up as quiet as this I might just survive this year yet. Hell, with my swanky new room I might even enjoy this. I can certainly find time for a little-



Godsdammit. At least I know how to deal with this one.



That should do the trick. Now then, where was I?

Ah yes. Time for a little payback. I am not by nature a vindictive dwarf, and pin-the-tail-on-the-overseer is a traditional method of election, but writing “P.S. Fuck You” on the back of the note was just uncalled for.

Let me see now...



Mmm-hmm. Ahahaha. I think I have an-



FUCK OFF. Can't you see I'm trying to plot? Besides, didn't we get rid of that ghost?



Fine. You want a memorial? I'll give you a fucking memorial.



Happy now? It really commemorates the way you died: immobile next to a lake of fucking magma.



And stay dead.

Now then, as I was scheming...



Ahahaha.

Ahahahahahaha-



Huh. I guess it wasn't the ghost? Fuck it, don't care. I swear I will drown the next person who interrupts me with my bare fucking hands.

Clear? Yes? Good. Now where did I put that timesheet?

It's so hard to remember who does what when it's all wiped out, you know. I do hope I gave everyone a job they'll be happy with.



I'm sure you'll love your new job, Pozzo! It's inside, nice easy work, and you'll never be far from a glass of something liquid.



I'm glad to see you're so enthusiastic about it.

Wait a minute. Shouldn't Minty have finished mincing that Kobold by now?



Sweet fucking Mondul!

I mean, no wonder the poor bastard isn't dead yet. The military's just stood around betting on how much of it'll be left when the dog's finished. It's almost enough to make we wish for another of those giant skinless bastards so they'll actually do a decent day's work.



Oh gods! I take it back! I take it back!



Ok. It's way down in the caverns where it can't do any harm. I don't think it's even possible for the military to get to it, so maybe I should just ignore it.

…











Sirocco wrote :-



His muscles and organs are also clear. Who knew?



AJ_Impy wrote :-



The Slave pens, Patternedunites of The Horn of Galleries, of The Zephyr of Pondering

The masters called for me.
I feared it would be for another beating, or perhaps I was to be made an example of to the greenskins and humans penned in with me. Maybe I was to be taken, weaponless, on another raid against the enemy. Very few people, be they Master or slave, ever returned from those, although there was one Master who returned, battered and bruised, with one of my kind recently.

*****

I have been told of the Master's will. Their 'Glorious Victory' over the Famous Palisades has been 'delayed'. They have ordered me to go to this final redoubt of my people, infiltrate it, learn what its defences are, and learn how it is led. They have ordered me to get this information back to the Masters. I can see what was once engraved on the now-smoothed stone: The Masters have been unhappy lately. The Masters have witnessed death lately.

*****

It may take me some time to get to the enemy fortress, this 'Gemclod'. I have been compelled to carry out this duty by the only family I can truly remember, aside from flashes of the happy times, playing in the shadow of thick stone walls whose quality was of the highest craftdwarfship. I will be as a serpent in the bosom of my people, a fanged beast hidden in the magma heart eating away at them from within. I am Agent Firesnake.