![]() They had no intention, originally, of disturbing it. Unattended, idling, sorting data with contented lazy clickings, SirPenguin, too, had earned his vacation and the dwarves appreciated that. Seven days had not sufficed to dim the glory of it and Markus and Vox finally managed to escape from the public function, and to meet in quiet where no one would think of looking for them, in the deserted underground chambers, where portions of the mighty buried body of SirPenguin showed. All Gemclod ran by invisible beams of magmapower. All Gemclod turned off its burning coal, its coal-powered forges, and flipped the switch that connected all of it to a small station, one mile in diameter, circling Gemclod at half the distance of the goblin fortresses. The energy of a faster computer was stored, converted, and utilized directly on a fortress-wide scale. Gemclod exploited its processes and memory with increasing efficiency, but there was only so much of both.īut slowly SirPenguin learned enough to answer deeper questions more fundamentally, and in the year 267, what had been theory, became fact. Too many calculations were needed for the HFS. Certainly they, and all others like them, were fully entitled to share In the glory that was SirPenguin's.įor decades, SirPenguin had helped design the tunnels and plot the trajectories that enabled dwarvenkind to reach the rivers, caves, and magma, but past that, Gemclod's poor resources could not support the framerate. They fed it booze, adjusted journal entries to its needs and translated the responses that were issued. It had to be, for no dwarves could adjust and correct him quickly enough or even adequately enough - so Markus and Vox attended the monstrous giant only lightly and superficially, yet as well as any dwarves could. SirPenguin was self-adjusting and self-correcting. ![]() They had at least a vague notion of the general thoughts and motivations that had long since grown past the point where any single dwarf could possibly have a firm grasp of the whole. As well as any dwarves could, they knew what lay behind the cold, drunken face - miles and miles of vomit streaming forth - of that dwarf. Markus_cz and Vox Nihili were two of the faithful attendants of SirPenguin. The question came about as a result of a five $dorfbux$ bet over dwarven wine, and it happened this way: The last question was asked for the first time, half in jest, on the 18th of Timber, 266, at a time when dwarvenkind first stepped into the light.
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