
The brunt of support, a humble fisherdwarf, a provider.

The grunt worker, carving new paths for the fort. Without them we would live in trees.

Creatures come in the night, we repell them. Future secured.

When times are dread, Axes abound. Wolves to the slaughter.
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What dear new experiences will I get? What lies ahead?
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Rulers are not tossed into the magma pit in this fort, they get platinum gilded rooms.
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We snip snip *Snip snip*
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