Dwarf Fortress:Spearnotched:254

Dwarf_Fortress:Spearnotched

Dwarf_Fortress:Spearnotched:253

Dwarf_Fortress:Spearnotched:255

Prologue

My infection has only grown worse since the last year, yet still I linger in this fortress, a walking corpse wandering halls laden with living dwarves, breathing through one remaining lung, a half-woman. But though my left ear is deaf, still I hear things through it - the whispers of the ancients, the anxieties and loathing of the dead, the distant howls of goblins and elves sharpening their blades for war... but mostly the drumming. Endless, drumming, echoing through the deep. The drum calls for me - calls for us all. What can be done in the face of its boundless terror? Its names are many: Zulbanlames, That-Which-Contains-Itself, Issun, the Everlasting... but most know it simply as Bannerround.

The drum beats of war now... Armok will bathe in blood.

Spring

Dog's Journal - Break of Spring

A man died on his back today. Lor Ustuthsokan died a natural death of old age, a thing unheard of in all but the greatest forts. He had lived several hundred years. I consulted Cog, our chief Diagnostician, who assured me it could have been prevented. "He shouldn't have kept aging," he told me, assuring me that he had stopped celebrating birthdays to assure his own eternal youth.

Everyone in the fortress grows soft, weak and fragile, while I grow stronger, confronting death each day. Even now, I am the most disciplined dwarf in this fortress, and I owe it to my daily practice of screaming in horror at the mutilated bodies of our enemies. A shame the Dutchess decided she would rather I work that grow strong. A shame it left me cowering and weeping for days.

They laughed at me. They said I was crazy. I will show them. I will stand stronger than ever.

Dog's Journal - It Begins...

It just wouldn't be the break of spring if there weren't a dozen vicious goblins attacking. And, OF COURSE, we are caught with our pants down because we cannot be bothered to create safe runs to the fishing areas, nor keep the cherry pickers from picking cherries when it is not in our best interests.

Now is a perfect time to move the Barracks closer to the front gate and refortify with traps. Even if they goblins overrun us, we'll show them a fight the likes of which they have never expected.

I note they have a human with them. The wretched thing isn't even outfitted for war, wearing only scraps and unarmed. He doesn't even have the skill to demand a war-title.

Dog's War-Journal - Day 1 of Siege

The full scope of this invasion was just made know to me. There are 42 goblins, one human (who barely bears mention) and a dozen TROLLS. Yes, you have read this record correctly, there are, among the enemy, a DOZEN trolls.

We can expect the enemy to lose ~15 to the cages outside the gates, but the rest will get through. Worse, the trolls will be the ones who push through, given that they are at the rear of the line.

Nay, a recount shows 19 trolls and 45 goblins (though, still but one sad human). I hope that is the sum total and pray we can stop them. I plan to bring everyone inside and remove the entrance. There is only one solution we can use at this point, and that is to prevent them from accessing the fortress. Gods help any immigrants who choose this season to come to the fortress.

---

On Snang Olngosposp, Human-Goblin

Snang Olngosposp (goblin for "He who comes in the likeness of a monster", literally "Theif Monsterpattern") is a Recruit, this much is true, but not because he's a mere kidnapped footsoldier in the goblin army. Near the dawn of the Known Histories, the Goblins of the Poison of Gifts began kidnapping humans, dwarves, elves, trolls and anything else they could get their hands on. The need for slaves was always the presumed cause of this, but while the victims of the goblins believed they were being treated like slaves, the goblins had another name for those upon whom they heaped abuse, labor, demands and the lash: children.

His father, Mas Chaoshours, was taken as a slave when he was but a single year old. At the age of 11, he was given to a 13 year old member of the tribe - the human woman Ngokang Delightsin, who was herself a third generation human-goblin. She bore two children, the eldest of which was eaten by a Yeti. Snang, her second child, lived to witness his mother's murder by a jealous goblin woman. She died at the age of twenty-five when he was just eight.

Witnessing this changed him: it made him harder and stronger, and taught him that there was no hope for the weak - no place in this world for those who cannot destroy their enemies. The problem was, he WAS weak.

But there is another kind of strength - one that humans possess in great measure; one that goblins desire and envy. That strength is cleverness, and Snang was clever - deeply, frighteningly clever.

He rose through the ranks of the goblins, never soiling his own hands with murder, never leaving a trace of the crimes that brought him to a position of power.

When the Dwarven outpost Spearnotched was discovered by the Triangular Deceivers of the Poison of Gifts, their leader, the hideous Kangaroo Demon Maga Shalethba Thenicadil sent a scouting party to scope out the area. None returned. Maga then sent forth the best of her scouts - a party of vicious elf-goblins, trained in the use of bow, whip and sword. Of these, still none returned.

Maga was infuriated, and in her fury, Snang saw opportunity. With promises of wealth, he assured Maga that the dwarves of Spearnotched would suffer and die terrible deaths at his hands. With honeyed words, he promised maga that he was the most suited to bring a force of warriors to bear to end the dwarves and their ilk. With clever poetry, he extolled his virtues as a leader.

So he was given a force with which to conquer the fortress, and the promise that, should he succeed, he would be not merely a goblin-human, but a Lord among his kind. And so, without skill at arms, physical strength or moral character, Snang was able to muster a force to destroy the fortress, intent on leaving none alive.

And when Snang saw the fisherdwarf upon the shore, eyes widened in despair, he knew that he would soon revel in great bloodshed.

---

Dog's War-Journal - The Charge

The goblins are upon us! Our leaders made the wise decision to wall off the entrance, but in the confusion, only one half was walled off in time! They have charged the gates. Initially, several of the horrid things were eviscerated by our traps, but they persisted, and soon we were overtaken. I fear our fortress shall soon crumble.

---

They made chase after the fisherdwarf, who wisely chose to flee when faced with the approaching goblin horde. The lead goblins, bored and eager destroy everything of value in their path, began killing the keas that made their nests near the fortress, feathering them with arrows and laughing maniacally when a blow that failed to kill instead left the poor birds to plummet to the ground and die from the impact. Snang, however, moved with single-minded determination. Soon, they saw the fisherdwarf disappear into an outcropping in the stone: here was the entrance they sought - the way in to the dwarven stronghold!

Snang shouted the command and the first wave of goblins rushed the gate. Immediately, the anticipated traps sprung to life and the first of the line crumbled amid a shower of blows from axe, sword, spear, mace, crossbow and giant corkscrews. The second wave charged forward and, as expected, cages fell from above to capture them. The third wave charged, and it became clear that the traps were exhausted, as dwarves poured out of the gate eager to join the fight. A wicked grin curling to his face, Snang ordered the charge and searched for a leader among them to test his mettle.

The dwarves fell upon the goblins with unanticipated ferocity, slashing and smashing their way through swathes of goblins. Dwarven crossbows opened fire with deadly accuracy, laying low nearly a dozen of the goblins before the dwarves had even closed the ranks. Finally, the hammerdwarves and swordsdwarves broke upon them like a tidal way breaking on the shore. Goblin heads flew from bodies, goblin limbs were hacked from trunk. Goblin archers, desperate to fire off a parting shot, were struck mid-pull, their arrows flying wild.

Snang had witnessed death many times among the goblins, but could not wrap his head around how the dwarves, with their love of song, drink and companionship, could descend with such fervent ferocity - such single-minded mayhem - despite their soft, warm beds.

Snang worked to steel himself, but could feel warm tears streaking down his face. He remembered the lesson of his youth, there was no hope for the weak - no place in this world for those who cannot destroy their enemies. How true this was, Snang now understood. But he had failed so utterly to learn the hidden truth behind this: that the greatest motivator - that which above all molds and teaches one in the ways of war - is not the cold, indifferent life within the goblin tribe, but the warmth and zeal for life exhibited by the dwarves: a warmth stoked into a furious fire within the hearts of the people of Spearnotched.

Then her saw her: a dwarven woman on the battlefield, hammer raised in preparation. By her side, another dwarf wielded a wicked looking wooden paddle, notched with razors of obsidion, but it was clear he was a mere recruit. She, however, bore the marks of a champion. She was to be his opposite on the field.

He lunged under the hammer and swung a wide hook which the dwarf dodged with great ease. He kicked at her for a second attack, but missed as poorly with this as with his first. He did not get a third opportunity, however, as the dwarf swung her hammer against his attack, smashing his foot into bone splinters.

Nauseated and disoriented from pain, Snang fell to the ground, tear-streaked eyes looking up at the midday sun. The shadow of the dwarf loomed into view, moving slowly, as if time itself reveled in this moment. She moved back for a moment, and he wondered for a moment if she had judged him well and truly defeated, and would leave him to his misery, but then he saw a brief glint of the silver hammer as it descended upon his face, crushing his head, ending his wretched existence.

---

"Rest in peace, you poor creature," Olin Cerolmosus said as she ended the human's suffering, "you never deserved what these beasts have done to you. May you find some peace in death."

---

Dog's Journal, 18th of Granite

Spearnotched survives! Nay, Spearnotched THRIVES! The goblin invaders are dead to the last one. I admit I feel a twinge of shame to think I called for the walling off of the fortress in the face of this threat. Truly, we have some defenses we could shore up, but the death toll from this attack? Far fewer than anticipated.

Three of our Marksdwarves died in the assault, which is not exceptionally surprising giving the unforutnate close quarters in which they were forced to engage. To this end, I believe we should construct a walkway from which archers may rain death down upon our foes.

The battle was punctuated, however, with moments of triumph and glory the likes of which the bards will one day sing of. Our Hammer Lord, Olin Cerolmosus, not only succeeded in euthanizing the miserable human that had been forced to take part in this battle by the brutish goblins, but also in killing a truly extraordinary number of trolls - nearly a third of the total number. Her uncanny skill at knocking the brains from their heads proved insurmountable to the dumb oafs, and one of them was even overtaken by the terror of her rampage and tried to flee the field.

Asmel Osudib, commander of our militia, was able to sever a goblin's head such that it stuck in the Fortifications at the top of our gate. The duchess (the one I like) was so amused by this that she ordered it be forbidden to move the thing, and left it piked there.

I would also like to take a moment to commemorate a moment of extreme selflessness (perhaps bordering on stupidity). During the previous goblin siege, you may recall hearing of an incident wherein Dastot Ildomcog, our Police Officer, ran forth to confront the enemy for the sole purpose of attempting to lure them through the traps? She has, again, exceeded every expectation of valor in the face of danger. During the course of the battle, a troll seized Solon Erithatul by goring him through the face with its horn. Solon looked to be a goner, as the troll had taken to beating him with a sock (yes, you heard me correctly) for amusement. Out of nowhere, Dastot leaped forth, slashing the troll with her blade, hamstringing the beast before slashing the beast in the face to finish it off. For this act of bravery above the call of duty, we have granted her the title of "Hero."

Unfortunately, it is still very possible that Dastot will succumb to his wounds. The troll's horn managed to tear the muscles of his face such that eating and drinking will likely be difficult for a long time, and the road to recovery fraught with peril. Still, better to survive the battle and see the good you have wrought than to wonder if your suffering was for naught.

We plan now to finish projects which will make our fortress stronger and safer. Gods willing, the next seige will break upon us like a wave upon the shore.

Dog's Addendum

I have learned that one of the dwarves that was killed was Fikod Ustirnil, the mayor's husband. She was taken by a fit of utter hysteria, but has since recovered. We all share in her grief, I'm sure. The important thing is, she's back to work.

Dog's Peace Journal - Early Spring

In the wake of violence, the elves come to make their demands. The elves agreed to allow us to cut down a mere 119 trees. Apparently, after deliberation, we have agreed to these demands, primarily because we are unlikely to ever exceed them, but it still sits poorly with me.

They brought us news from their people. There were over a dozen kidnappings, which were of little concern to me (let the goblins swell their ranks with willowy elves), but other disturbing news was brought to light. It seems that a nearby elven outpost known as Dawncuts was recently conquered by the goblins. This is of serious concern to me, insomuch as Dawncuts, I have learned, is considerably closer than the other outposts ruled by the goblins. Indeed, more disturbingly, it has come to light that the elves that attacked our fortress last year had been sent by the Triangular Deceivers - the goblin tribe associated with both our seiges - from that very stronghold. The goblin army, who call themselves "the Splattered Wraith," are still at large and thirsty for conquest. We must improve our defenses in anticipation. Even if a thousand goblins are slain, it will make little difference if we ourselves are defeated through attrition.

I am hoping for immigrants. I hope largely because the cleanup alone from this battle may take the better part of the year.

Dog's Journal - Mid Spring

My discipline continues to grow as I gaze upon dead goblins. I was able to stop screaming after a mere hour.

Dog's Journal - Mid Spring

Wasn't I just speaking of migrants? A whole wave of them arrived!

• Mestthos Stizashzon, Hunter: he has some skill, but the mindset of a ranger. Freedom and independence and all that. Worse yet, he doesn't see the value of good craftsdwarfship, nor of working hard! Archery duty for him.
• Ilral Aranonul, Ranger: She values nature. Like an elf. An elf archer. Archery duty for her.
• Ingish Solonked, Ranger: An openly disloyal piece of rubbish. I'm glad this crop of archers is so singularly unlikeable, given that they have the highest mortality rate.
• Kel Zasitod, Trapper: As I understand it, they dwarves who made it to this immigration wave were all the dwarves that worked primarily outside the fortress, which implies that something terrible happened WITHIN their home fortress. I shudder to think. Archer.
• Asob Ustironul, Presser: A competent swordsman! Time to revitalize my position as captain of the guard. We need good dwarves to protect this fortress. Not much of a hard worker, but I'm glad to have him, given that his kinesthetics are phenomenal.
• Doren Letmosam, Butcher: Not especially traditional this one, and a bit limited in skill set. I said, "We could always use another miner," and she shrugged, so I guess she's fine with that.
• Urist Urvadniles, Dwarven Child: Doren's daughter.
• Kogan Fikodustan, Dwarven Child: Doren's other daughter.
• Stakud Isosuzol, Farmer: A farmer who doesn't work the fields if of little value to us, so we're having him add that to his portfolio. Threshing and cheese making have their place, but they're hardly full-time occupations.
• Ingiz Morulsanreb, Farmer: Same complaint as with Stakud, same solution.
• Dumat Zuntirudiz, Woodworker: Excellent! Someone with a useful skill set!
• Zuglar Ingishefek, Dyer: With some competence with the sword, I think he'd be an excellent addition to the Guard.
• Zefon Tunbel, Miner: Miner AND ranger? You can't hold a pick and a bow together! We'll make him choose between the two, and given that he's a better miner than bowman, I think I know what the quiver-and-bolt loving aristocracy will choose.
• Imush Zanegzatem, Farmer: Given that we geld so few animals, it's discouraging to see so many gelders coming to the fortress.
• Monom Nilthukkan, Fishery Worker: More fishers are always a welcome addition, but this one admitted to having served briefly in his doomed fortress' military. I put him on the watch.
• Tosid Fikodginet, Cook: I told her that if she ever touches a skillet, she'll find herself on the front lines. Food is the economy of this glorious fortress, and I'll be damned if I see that ruined by amateurs!
• Sarvesh Rikkirbomrek, Woodcutter: A no-nonsense kind of guy. I like him.
• Dodok Lamirustuth, Dwarven Child: Sarvesh's son. It's good to know that not all children go into goblin custody.
• Asmel Bomrekineth, Fishery Worker: More fish! We love fish! We can't get enough fish! I think now, of all times, it is important to build a safe location for fisherdwarves.
• Onol Dodoksibrek, Stonecrafter: A useless skill, but some dabbling in the combat arts reminds me that I've other uses for useless dwarves. The duchesses have yet to refuse me a request.
• Olin Shigosrimter, Fisherdwarf: Another one with some minor skill at arms. I can hope this migration wave is sufficient to fill every position in the guard, but I suspect that's a bit much to ask.
• Cerol Sazirisak, Dwarven Child: Olin's son.
• Kogan Alathlecad, Stonecrafter: She's a stone crafter and mechanic, which is great. So I told her she's a mason now, which rounds out the trifecta.
• Unib Konosnebel, Ranger: Yet another archer, which means we need yet another archery squad needs to be created. It's fantastic to have more than 30 active members of the military.
• Ablel Kolvumom, Fishery Worker: I wish I could enjoy fish more, because we've an abundance of them.
• Doren Rulushlor, Farmer: Butcher, tanner, gelder... so... two out of three ain't bad.

Not a bad group.

Dog's Journal - 20th Felsite

Well, Ingiz Kubukninur the Chef just threw a colossal fit and kicked poor Onol Dodoksibrek's teeth in. For disoderly conduct, she was convicted and sentence to a beating. I hope it won't be too bad. In hindsight, we may have considered convicting a patsy, given that Ingiz is literally the cornerstone of our economy. She has become haggard and drawn because of the tremendous stresses placed on her, and I fear if this continues, she will lose it entirely. Perhaps we ought to have trained an apprentice to make meals.

She is currently in a meeting with the mayor which will hopefully give her an opportunity to discuss her grievances.

Dog's Journal - 26th Felsite

The beating was more, I fear, than our master chef can take. She is haggard and bruised, and her lung collapsed under the force the dyer put into it. Zulgar Ingishnefek, for her part, said it was an exhilarating experience, having the opportunity to mete out dwarven justice.

---

The whispers are more frequent now, and my occasional injuries grow more concerning, as they increasingly refuse to heal. The ancestors call me to join them, and I fear I will answer that call soon. But there may be others. The ancestors are lonely, and some in the fortress grow weary and fearful. They mean to claim those they may.

---

Dog's Journal - 4th Hematite

Progress is coming together on a safe enclosure for the fisherdwarves and those seeking water from the outside. We have dug a path and walled the area - now to finish the roof to ensure that no dwarf need fear the baleful sun, nor the assaults of goblins and their ilk. At last my pleas to leadership to get things done are heeded!

Dog's Journal - 11th Hematite

A Human diplomat has arrived.

Solon, meanwhile, has grown attached to his battle axe, which is a fine thing for a soldier to do - a truly great thing for any warrior to do! Would that more of our warriors would love their weapons appropriately.

Dog's Journal - 16th Hematite

Ingiz the Chef has fallen into depression and refuses to cook further meals until she feels better. I don't know what can be done. She is trying to speak with her colleagues more, which might help her snap out of it, but it is possible she may succumb to the dreaded curse of melancholia before her grief is rectified.

On a positive note, even though no one has yet met with the diplomat, the human caravan has arrived! Perhaps we can pawn off this ill-fitting goblin and troll garbage and, in return, acquire some things of real value.

The human lawgiver brought us much troubling news. Two goblin armies even now descend for conquest. The Tepid Sin, led by the cruel goblin Usmza Dissolvefamines, and the Legendary Flies, led by the goblin warchief Vuknud Trammeledglimmered have descended upon numerous settlements, leaving a swathe of destruction in their wake. They grow ever closer, trouncing settlements and leaving great armies of refugees.

Dog's Journal - 17th Hematite

Busy times. The mayor's reelection campaign has proven successful. She has promised that the death of her husband will not be reflected in her performance, and I'm prone to believe her, but also prone to believe that it had a significant bearing on her decision to shore up defenses. In other words, I firmly believe that it has, in a tragic way, improved her performance. I am saddened by the fact that so many will believe in the necessity of these measures only once the loss is personal.

Dog's Journal - 19th Hematite

The child Arit Alathkalan has withdrawn from society, no doube to do something truly spectacular. He dreams of crafting a masterwork and, at the tender age of 2, will fulfill all his life's ambitions it seems.

Meanwhile, our great leaders are trading away useless goblin goods for useful dwarf-usable ones. It's comical to imagine the humans receiving these goods and wearing troll-fur cloaks as though they were the height of fashion.

Meanwhile, Dobar has requested a meeting with the mayor. All the death has put many of us on edge, and it's good to have a leader that the people truly feel represents them.

Summer

Dog's Journal - 1st Malachite

A migration wave has come, and brought with it strange assortments of skills.

• Shorast Ulzestcatten, Cook: a dabbling fighter as well, by the looks of it. When I asked why he had left his fortress rather than dying with his other fighting kin he shrugged and said he wasn't feeling up to dying. He expresses quite a few strange beliefs. He doesn't enjoy fun, but thinks that parties are the best. He doesn't like others, but seems unable to be parted from them. A dwarf of paradoxes this one.
• Rigoth Stagshilmorul, Bone Doctor: another fighter who survived the goblin raids. She, like Shorast her husband, did not stay to die with the others, which seems more than a bit shameful, but their skill sets could be of significant use to us. She is, in addition to everything else apparently a Novice climber, a skill I have not heard a dwarf boast of prior to this very day.
• Tosid Thadzulban, Dwarven Child: Their daughter, an emotionally distant wreck, likewise came with them. We need to expand the daycare. I long for the day where at the very least they are all useful peasants, lugging goods around and generally being of value to our community.
• Astesh Morulngotun, Clothier: A tailor! Not that we hadn't already had one of those, but it reminded me that we need to get to work making clothes as many of use are wearing threadbare rags these days. Military service for this one.
• Likot Bernunok, Farmer: Perhaps the first migrant I've met who didn't declare some bitter sadness at leaving a doomed home behind. She mostly expressed a desire to see now, wondrous things in the place.
• Eral Rithkekath, Tanner: She expressed resentment for having to cross a vast expanse of wilderness to get here, and asked immediately to join the militia. Apparently, leadership saw fit to make him a captain with no further consideration. I cannot help but suspect this is a clerical error that will simply go unrectified.
• Udil Inoliteb, Animal Caretaker: She has no skills, but a preliminary examination of her determined that she is strong, capable, and a fast healer. She might, however, not have the endurance for combat, but that remains to be seen.
• Lorbam Debbengusil, Diagnoser: A wound dresser and diagnoser with no other skills? Straight to the squad with him!
• Ushat Zedotshoras, Dwarven Child: Another one for the daycares. Lorbam and Udil's daughter.
• Mistem Cloisterbook, Dwarven Child: Another one of Lorbam and Udil's children. It's good to see a family that still has more than one child even after a goblin invasion.

---

I return to the tree. I do this because I must. I fear I have no choice in the matter. Even after all that has happened to me, still I return for the harvest as the trees whisper dark secrets to me.

Climb my branches.

Ascend to the heights.

This is where you belong.

Soon.

It comes.

---

Dog's Journal - Malachite 4th

Apparently, there is an ongoing process to move the entire fortress deeper underground, leaving only the militia near the surface to fend off threats. I don't pretend to think this isn't an incredibly rational plan, but I will say that I don't quite understand the timing. There is much that need be done, and this doesn't seem like the primary priority.

Meanwhile, the barony have been delaying the construction of our magma reservoir by arguing (I suppose, more or less correctly) that the areas around the reservoirs need to be properly mined out as minerals next to heated magma are lost to us forever. Even so, I would rather see the project complete and use trees solely to be burned to ash for lye, pearlash and potash rather than used as fuel.

It might also behoove us to create a strategic magma reserve... just in case.

Dog's Journal - Malachite 14th

I'm reluctant to get my hope up, but Atir has begun the construction and one of his ingredients happens to be a masterwork bracelet. Hopefully, this results in something truly extraordinary.

Dog's Journal - Malachite 19th

A bracelet! From a bracelet! Of course! It's so obvious!

That drum... that glorious, accursed drum.

Dog's Journal - Malachite 20th

Fath has a fever that she attributes to some sort of prescient notion. At first we paid this no mind, but then we heard the echoes from underground. A great Forgotten Beast has risen from the depths. It is a sign, I'm sure - we are to claim the underground and restore order! The Forgotten Beast is our questing beast, and we shall slay it and create armor of its hide!

Dog's Journal - CONQUEST OF THE DEEP ROADS

The wall is down! Bim Stukonoslan, henceforth to be named "Opener of the Way," has torn down the fragile wall the protects us from the deep roads. We move now to take the roads!

The Forgotten Beast rushed past us, trying to enter the fortress. First, a dog delayed its coming for but a moment. The Beast worked its way up the ladder and crushed one of our Recruits, Astest Morulngotun, who was knocked from the platform and hurled, tragically, into the magma below, leaving behind nothing but his shield.

Kosoth Datanomet next charged the beast, nimbly dodging attack after attack as he hacked at it with his obsidian blade. The creature's hide was rock hard, such that a frighteningly large number of the blows simply glanced off. In the strangest strategy ever witnessed in Spearnotched, he was, however, able to bite the creature's lower body, tearing its scales. The beast, in retaliation, crushed her foot, leaving her unable to stand. It then fell upon her, intent on destroying her. She blocked its attacks with her shield and managed to strike the creature in its left tail stinger, severing its tendons and leaving the stinger limp and impotent to harm us further. The beast, however, felled her with a single successful strike, severing her head.

Ablel Cogenshal, the Armorer, was in the deep tunnels for some reason at this time, and boldly tried to face the beast barehanded. Not surprisingly, it made short work of her.

Fortunately, at this point, our hammerdwarves were in position and Olin Cerulmosus, our Hammer Lord, worked the creature over with swarming strikes of her powerful hammer. Rimtar the Archer joined in, inexplicably employing her crossbow as a club. This went surprisingly well, especially after the creature pulled off her leg at the hip, leaving her fueled with adrenaline. Unfortunately, Mebzuth continued to remove limbs from poor Rimtar until she bled dry.

Asmel Osudib once again demonstrated great prowess for head wounds, fracturing the creature's skull and even managing to smash the creature's feet such that it could not reliably maneuver. The beast tried at every opportunity to use our numbers against us, hurling us at one another, but we were able to coordinate our efforts such that the collisions were generally mild.

I, of course, joined the fight, striking the beast with my blade, but it proved more powerful than I expected, and now my right hand is utterly mangled. A small price to pay, I'm sure, for the glory we have wrought, but I pray the physicians can clean it and reassemble is such that I can once again secure blade to it.

The true glory of battle, however, most belongs to Udil Inoliteb, who broke the beast's spine with her mace, reducing the threat we faced powerfully. Likewise, Eral, who was made a militia captain by oversight, proved her worth by, if you can believe it, using a goblin scourge to strike the beast's very heart through a wound opened by Udil.

It was, though, one, Nil Uzolgusil, a Marksdwarf, who receives final credit for the kill. He was charged by the Beast during the course of battle. It tore his entire right leg away, knocking him prone. From that position, however, he was able to continue firing bolt after bolt into the beast, finally felling it by feathering its guts and heart.

Was it worth it? None can yet say. We are still tallying the dead, which stand at least five, possibly more.

Of those injured in the fight, those with severed limbs or serious nerve injuries are worst. Stukos Morulotsus, for one, has a severe spinal injury and bloodloss, but seems still able to stand, which makes me optimistic for a full recovery. The doctor says there is no noteworthy nerve damage, which is promising. My own injures are pretty severe. I've been given cleaning, sutures, bone setting, wound dressing and, finally, immobilization to prevent further injury. I am also optimistic for a full recovery.

In news that contrasts the vicious battle, a kea was apparently able to beat the piss out of poor farmer Zuglar Dorenosust, leaving him battered and bruised, but likely with no permanent injuries.

Dog's Journal - Continued Notes

Ingiz is depressed. Again. I wish I knew of some way to fix the poor thing, but she's not been herself lately. Not since the beating. That really seemed to take the fight out of her, and not just in the way that was intended.

Dog's Journal - Galena 8th

New game! "Goblins in a barrel!" It works like this. We assign a goblin to a lever activated cage. Then we pull the lever that closes the goblin enclosure, then we open the cage. Hooray!

...only one person remembered to bring ammunition. That's ok. We'll come back a little later.

Dog's Journal - Galena 9th

By Armok! Goblins are nigh-immortal!

Autumn

Dog's Journal - 1st Limestone

By the gods, NOT AGAIN.

This time, we SHALL be prepared! I will have the soldiers await the enemy appropriately. The dogs of war wait at the gates, and the archers will man the murder holes.

A quick count gives me at least a dozen trolls and 60 or more goblins. Two of the marksdwarves were unwilling to wait for death and rushed out to face the trolls. One of them, Mestthos Stizashzon, lost his final battle immediately, but clung to life long enough for the troll to make a braid of his body. The other, Iteb Zasitdoren, fought much longer, but was mutilated gruesomely in the process. Once the trolls broke through the two with death wishes, they broke themselves upon our traps. Some, we captured, and some were slain outright. All were injured or demoralized, which is for the best.

One of the farmers, I learned, had not come in when the alarm was raised. A troll pulled him out of the tree in which he hid and pulped him horribly. Monom, who was injured fighting the Beast, ran down with her crutch and began beating on the injured trolls with it. We initially laughed at her efforts... until he beat one of the trolls to death. We have bestowed the name "crutchmurder" upon him in commemoration. Rith, our engraver, was somehow also caught outside, and when trying to run back inside was run down by goblins. Meanwhile Monom has entered into a martial trance, and the rest of us are inspired. Just as we rush forth, we found out that Monom had been knocked into a cage by the enemy, which means that she is, ironically, safe until this conflict is over. We charge forth now to face them, be it unto victory or unto death!

---

Kogan the Axedwarf knew his time had come. He could feel his ragged lungs hissing with each breath. They were both collapsed. He was a dead man lying there, but there was a calm over him. He listened to the horrors of battle and cranes his head to look at the progress. His allies were cutting a swathe of death through the goblins and trolls, the masters handling themselves with perfected hand. Behind him, a recruit with a head injury screamed and laughed deliriously. Kogan pitied him. It was impossible to tell if the recruit would survive after the fight, but Kogan could tell the young man had already died there on the battlefield.

"Monom," Kogan wheezed. The headwounded shared Crutchmurder's name, but not her courage or skill. "Monom!" he rasped, more forcefully. The young dwarf looked up glass-eyed from his reverie. "Monom. Rejoice - Spearnotched endures." Kogan closed his eyes and smiled. Monom fell silent, perhaps for the last time.

---

Dog's Journal - Does it Matter?

It is all hopeless. The hordes will never stop. This will never end. There will only be war and bloodshed forever. We have lost good Dwarves today. Our Hammer Lord has perished. The leader of the Trolls, a vicious Troll Lasher, faced her in single combat. The first blow was deflected harmelessly by her breastplate, but the force of the blow was such that it pushed her back, to show that this beast was not to be trifled with. The lasher leapt upon the Hammer Lord. She deflected many of his blows, but the lasher managed to knock the hammer from her hand. Without her weapon, it was a slaughter. When the rest of our dwarves fell upon him, it was too late.

It is all too late. We have come to this accursed place, and we shall never leave. We will occupy the stone for all eternity.

The Baroness has dubbed this assault, "The Battle of Sown Heroes" for the Hammer Lord that is laid to rest.

Dog's Journal - Supplemental: Full casualty report

• Mestthos Stizashzon, slain by trolls before the Battle of Sown Heroes.
• Udil Inoliteb, slain by trolls before the Battle of Sown Heroes
• Monom Nilthukkan, now known as "Headwounded", has had his right false rib mangled, his head cut open and his skull fractured. No word yet on whether there is any serious brain damage.
• Ingish Solonked, lost his right arm to a goblin axe and had to retire from the marksman corps as a result. I'm disappointed it wasn't his haed. He has since admitted that he was mostly annoyed by the loss of his "shootin' arm." He has been dubbed a war hero for his service.
• Dastot Ildomcog, War Hero, once again acting with extreme courage and bravery, fought on despite being feathered in the kidney and liver. She finally succumbed when a goblin cleaved her head asunder with his scimitar. May she rest in peace.
• Kogan Tobulmonang, Axedwarf, was assailed on many sides by goblins, and though he crippled an enemy Pikeman, there was little that could be done to rescue him from their flanking maneuver. He was struck in the head with a hammer with such force that his face can no more be seen.
• Righoth Stagshilmorul, the Hammerdwarf, was disarmed by a thrown dwarf (the work of one of the trolls), and was, subsequently, bitten by a goblin pikeman. The bitten arm is cut open, and we fear that if it is not treated promptly, it may suffer infection.
• Solon Erilithatul, Axedwarf, distinguished himself with many kills on the battlefield, but suffered nerve damage to one of his arms. He has, likewise, been dubbed a war hero.
• Asmel Osudib, Militia Commander, emerged from battle with some slight bruising which has since healed. She has been given the title of Foebane and declared champion of the fortress.
• Olin Cerolmosus, Hammer Lord, was slain by the Troll Lasher Ashok Ziksisrodem, leader of our foe.
• Onul Dodoksibrek, Stonecrafter, was struck several times, but only superficial wounds resulted, and most attacks were parried. She did not, however, cause any serious injury to the enemy either. Even so, a warrior who stands strong against the enemy and refuses to fall to their blades remains an asset to any army.
• Stukos Sarveshnakas, henceforth to be named Ironjaw, fired all her arrows, but refused to end her fighting there. With great courage, she battered trolls with her crossbow and, when one of them grabbed her by the throat, she bit his nose off and continued to batter him when he let go in agony.

The final battle with the Troll Lasher will be an epic told for generations, should word of it travel beyond this doomed fortress. First, our Hammer Lord rushed forward, eager to meet her opposite number in the field as she longed to do at the Battle of Lonely Human two years prior (though we never did determine who led that army, for none of them bore any exceptional markings). She opened the battle with an expert strike, but the crafty lasher was able to arrest her weapon and pulled himself forward for a leaping kick. Though her breastplate deflected this blow, she was knocked over. He lashed again, and she blocked it with her hammer, desperately trying to scramble to her feet. She managed a glancing blow with her hammer, but it merely bruised the muscle of the troll's leg, barely hampering his continued assault. There were several frantic exchanges of blows before the troll managed to entangle her ankle with the whip and crush it. He then wrapped it around her head and pulled it taut until the life fled from her. Even now I weep to think it.

Our crossbows feathered him repeatedly after this, and he fell over, but I have receiver a report that he was slain once and for all by our own lasher, the iconoclastic Tanner Eral Rithkekath. She has a penchant for beating goblins about the head with her lash until their skulls collapse, and when she came upon the troll lasher, she decided her deserved a taste of his own medicine.

The Dwarf Monom "Crutchmurder" was released from the cage, mercifully kept from death by its unexpected protection.

Dog's Journal - Limestone 10th

It has literally been a single day since the seige, and the outpost liason has arrived along with a caravan. While loading goods for the merchants, I came upon this:

Thank you, anonymous artisan, for reminding me that nearly all the original dwarves who set out upon this expedition are dead!!

Dog's Journal - Limestone 11th

The Poison of Gifts are still at it. They have conquered Tongsrasps and Leaguemined, two fairly nearby outposts. I pray the mountainhome soon brings the battle to them.

Our traders secured a contract to make meals for them, which will benefit us substantially. In return, we requested iron and steel, as well as other raw materials for forging mighty weapons.

In other news, Foebane has taken well to her role as champion, and even now trains Ezum Gusilkol in the art of combat.

Zon-Zon just found out Dastot is dead. As her husband, he is understandably distressed. We really should make more of an effort to point these things out ahead of time.

Crutchmurder continues her long road to recovery. Both of her right limbs are mostly useless, sadly, and she will likely never take the field of combat again in the glorious capacity to which we have grown accustomed. Even so, we can hope that she continues to be of value to the fortress.

Dog's Journal - Limestone 21st

We have an infestation of Dingo Men!

The military sallied forth and we killed several of the mangy things. They will NOT eat the babies of this fortress!

Dog's Journal - Limestone 28th

Stakud Isosuzol has been possessed and has holed up in a Leatherworker's workshop. I just noticed that we've gone beyond 1M copper pieces of produced wealth, of which we've exported roughly 20%. These are the sorts of things that I waste my time on when I'm depressed. I can't handle this.

Oh, look - Stakud is done:

A leather veil. Of course you can't see through it. It's really more of a draped mask, but whatever.

Dog's Journal - Timber 3rd

Migrants. Depressed.

• Tekkud Dastotkivish, Wax Worker. Mason now.
• Aban Stulkikrost, Fishery Worker. Macedwarf. Now commands militia. Vacancy there.
• Asmel Nazomvabok, Child.
• Astesh Sarekkubuk, also Child.
• Ducim rigothudist, Hunter. Marksdwarf. In.
• Iteb Estiluntir. Worthless Farmer.
• Kivish Odlolok, Pressed. Fisher as well.
• Tekkud Dastotkivish. Wax worker. Whatever. He can lug things. We need more luggers.
• Zan Uvarmeng. Lots of skills. None of them so very worthwhile.
• Monom Mengam, Glassmaker. Also has... Wait a minute. Wait one gods-damned minute here. A mere 75 years old, but conssumately great at multiple skills? That does not happen outside of frontier fortresses!

Great skill with no external explaination is the hallmark of a NIGHT CREATURE! I cannot let the others know my suspicions. They may think it a witch hunt. No... I must create a trap to be certain. The only way to know this is a night creature is to deprive her of food long enough that I may be able to observe. First, I create the trap, then I place her in it to be certain.

Dog's Journal - 2nd Moonstone

It took nearly a month, but I've isolated my suspect. We see, now, if in a month or so she is hungry, or thirsty, or otherwise unpleastantly disposed. If she is not, my suspicions are confirmed, and we have a night creature on our hands. For the good of the fortress, if this is so, it is best that never, under any circumstances, release her.

If my suspicions are proven false, I know not what I will do.

Winter

Dog's Journal

Shem Zuglarosed, our masterful mechanic, appears to be losing his mind. He is under many of the same stresses as I. I hope that his reverie makes him feel better.

Edzul the Weaver has taken to wandering the underground searching for webs to weave into thread. This could go well, or it could go terribly. I should warn him. Maybe when I feel like walking.

Ingiz beat up a dog and broken a table. There is an overwhelming evidence. Six witnesses to the dog-harm. Three witnesses to the table breaking. I cannot help but convict. I'll have to decide on an appropriate punishment.

Dog's Journal - AGAIN

A beating. Had Onol perform it. It broke a finger, which has fractured such that it's broken open. It'll probably get infected. Igniz will never make it, which is tragic.

This Fortress is falling apart. Grief and ennui will kill us, and if not that, the goblin hordes will finish the job.

Dog's Journal - 4th Opal

More disorderly conduct. This time, Shem Zuglarosed, Mechanic is responsible.

What choice do I have but to sentence my friends for their crimes? Why must they put me in this position?

A lot of witnesses to his final crime. Feels like a meaningful number.

I saw Shem beat a turkey with my own eyes. It was a pitiful sight. I've sentenced him to imprisonment. Maybe that'll give him a chance to cool off. He also received a pretty substantial beating for his crimes, which is to be expected.

I am more convinced than ever that Monom Mengam is a vampire. She has requested no food since she's been placed in the cell. I'm thinking of throwing goblins down there and letter her have her way with them. One will certainly kill her one day. I'm not sorry to say it.

journal

It looks like they're having a drowning competition.

The pump is pulling water to run the wheels for the magma project. We have sufficient power now and the magma flows.

...beautiful.

journ

depressed sick of daycare will remove

A child does as it pleases!

Dog's Journal - Horrid Crisis

Sudden, truly shocking events. The screw pump BROKE. Four of the fisherdwarves fell in the lake! They managed to make it back out, but I'm still surprised the pump fell apart. I didn't know they could do that. What would cause it?

And Ingiz refuses to stop breaking things. In front of piles of witnesses. Once again, we'll try to beat the evil out.

Perhaps we did it too well...

Rakust Ikudoslan, however, has picked up the slack for Ingiz and has already produced a true masterwork roast.

The water wheel array has flooded, which is fine, when it comes down to it. They were mostly used to run themselves, and fixing the problem just request someone to head over and prime the pump manually once we drain it out some (or let it dry).

Dog's Journal - 27th Opal

Shook off depression. Bee Mistress is withdrawing from society and claiming a craft workshop.

We have a solution to the goblin problem. We will feed the vampire.

I think they'll be fast friends. They're both evil.

Oh, the violence! There are no doubts in my mind - vampire work. Note the blood-drained paleness of the goblin

Oh joy of joys! The Bee Mistress even now lugs the bones of the Forgotten Beast for her project! Surely it will be something of incredible value - even the king himself may need to come to our fortress to see this!

We now have minted currency in the three cardinal denominations - gold, silver and copper. Gods willing, we shall mint one set of coins in each of these denominations every year.

And The Bee Mistress has created a... cage. No images of that accursed drum, though, so I am pleased.

Our new priority is some safe above-ground crops. We have two small plots now, but we need to irrigate a good field for this to really work.