5th Felsite
I don’t know what to make of it. Neoflo tells me that she had just gone to get a drink; then she sort of went stiff and stared ahead of her, started muttering. Then she runs off and nicks some of our gems from the stockpile. Next thing I know she’s highjacked my workshop!
My workshop! The cheeky so-and-so. Anyway, she’s busy in there putting something or other together, all secretive like.
11th Felsite
This is what Cirque made after a few days work. Quite why she constructed a menacing, gem-encrusted millstone shall ever be a mystery, never mind that she called it ‘Sneershine the Music of Cells’.
12th Felsite
The elves arrived today with stuff to trade.
We swapped them several hundred rock mugs for a tiger, a cheetah and a monkey. I almost feel sorry for the tree-hugging pansies.
12th Galena
Kizron and his marksdwarves were grumbling about not getting in any practice that they felt was actually worthwhile them – the combat demonstrations being held in the barracks, it seems, weren’t cutting it any more. But when I dropped some hints about the alligators that still needed taken care of, they suddenly didn’t seem so keen. Then someone remembered the mountain goats that had been hanging about; those seemed like an altogether less murderous prospect, and so they set off, eager for the hunt.
Also, Frosty became a legendary* planter today. Why they call him Frosty, when he's so good with plants, I don't know.
13th Galena
More traders; the humans have come to call this time. Even though there would have been much mutual benefit for both parties – the value of our crafts would’ve given them a handsome profit, and we would have dearly loved the weapons they brought – they soon stormed off as if we had insulted them! They would not even give us a chance for some haggling. Good riddance; we don’t want business from the likes of
them anyway.
2nd Limestone
The marksdwarves returned today in a foul mood; they had been chasing the mountain goats for miles and miles, for weeks on end.
“Why didn’t you just shoot them?â€
“Well, we didn’t have any quivers…â€
I need a drink. Again.
18th Timber
This a black day for Granitebees.
We were set upon by a goblins. All dwarves were ordered into the dining hall, and the military was moblised immediately; but as the greenskins outnumbered our lads more than two to one, they could only take cover behind our traps and hope for the best.
Most of the goblins ran after Dekar, who had been out cutting wood, and the outpost liason that had arrived with the traders. The latter was soon overrun, but Dekar proved to be faster than the average goblin, and was chased for some distance by a single swordsman.
Two goblins ran straight for out fort, but our cage traps soon took care of them. Another goblin was despatched with some ferocity, but nobody is sure whether it was the work of the guards of the trade caravan or of our wardogs. Either way, his leg was found a good distance from the rest of his corpse.
The fighting at our fortress entrance was intense. A lone swordsman from the trade caravan leapt into the fray and made short work of two intruders, and chased off a third. But not before Murk lost his left hand.
That was when the cry went up.
At least another five of them had been waiting in ambush.
Siphon ran out to meet them, but with nothing to defend himself with nor a weapon (curse our lack of quivers!) he took quite a beating. Though a smashed-to-pieces, wreck of a dwarf
(his heart, guts and stomach had lost their use), in his dying moments he flew into a furious rage and struck down a goblin. Quite how he did this no one knows, but he died a heroes death to be sure. The swordsdwarf from the caravan died too, though not before taking his fair share of goblins with him. We can only be grateful for his selfless sacrifice.
It was then that Kizron joined the fight. He must have used up all of his bolts, for he too fought the greenskins toe to toe. He was no match at them; soon he was knocked unconscious, and the three goblins bled him dry.
Meanwhile, inside the fort, Rei inexplicably decided that now would be a good time to throw a party in the dining hall where we had all taken shelter. Completely tactless. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Demm came over with a mood very much like the one taken by Cirque, and dashed off to the mechanics workshop.
Back at the fight, Murk had been left in such shock by the loss of his hand that he had been oblivious to the carnage around him. After some realisation of what was happening, he too made a foolish charge at the three goblins. (It was about then that Dekar, having been pursued for so long, was finally struck down). With a single blow from a hammergoblin, he was knocked a good 20 metres away up the mountainside. He was knocked unconscious on his next charge. He lies there yet, but it does not looks good for him.
Our next decision was a difficult one; a few cage traps was our last line of defence. While they had proved successful so far, they have been known to fail. We could build some more between the goblins and the dining hall, but the cages were so close to the surface as to put ourselves within danger of the goblins, and the mechanisms needed were mostly kept in the mechanics workshop – the one that Demm wasn’t letting anyone into.
But we had to try.
It is a credit to the bravery of all of the volunteers who made the run that the cagetraps were set up in double quick time, and for grabbing materials from under Demm’s nose. We have a strong final line of defence now. The goblins still wait outside; but we expect them to make their entrance once Murk has, inevitably, passed away. There is nothing we can do for him, save hope to bring his body, and that of his comrades, indoors before the buzzards get to them. Already we can hear their cries as they circle overhead.
I only hope that we will not all become their prey.
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