Early Spring, Year 106
A Note Discovered Near the Edge of the Fortress Site, Discarded.
1st Granite
Imagine my surprise, me, but a humble poet, successfully voted to the honorable position of Overseer! And, bucking all tradition, a humble, migrant goblin, working a trade of poetry to put food on my table while I document histories few working dwarves care about. My family alongside three or four others asked for asylum amongst the dwarves to escape the dark pits less than a decade ago, and already they trust me to direct their culture for a year? This is truly one for the history books! I shall endeavor to pay back the Dwarven mercy with public service to the best of my ability, and promise to not falter in my appointment!
Speaking of, it’s no secret my appointment was not that of a popular one, and was challenged viciously and thoroughly, up to and including chants of treason, but the vote count was the vote count in the end, and no foul play could be uncovered by investigation. I, for one, never expected my bid for the position to amount to anything – we live in strange times indeed. Accommodations, of course, had to be made for my allowance into the position, such as the ruling that “my beard was not up to Overseer standards,” as of course we goblins grow no hair. Ultimately, the matter was put to bed when a standard issue beard was requisitioned for me, and I of course must wear it at all times during officiation and conduction of my role.
Armok’s left arm, does it itch like Hell.
As a purveyor of all things fine and cultural, my first self appointed task was to catalog the acts of art and literature the dwarven creatives have made, largely ignored by the working masses. At best, they care only what such treasures may be valued at in a trade for goods, and little for their message, their meaning.
Treaties such as “The Mountainhome: My Only Mistake” sit largely ignored and rarely discussed around the dining halls, despite the… unique insights they provide.
Another example of an ignored document of fine literature, “The Scraping And Glory!” I am largely untrained in the medical arts, save a passing fancy, but it appears to be a surgical text of some sorts. I wonder why the dwarves do not consult it more often for the health and benefit of our people.
Not all the articles to be found are indeed so useful for everyday life. “Glories,” for example, appears as a short story filled with, well, glories. A wonderful insight into the soul of what the Dwarven people cherish and what their society holds valuable, ironically scratched into the skin of some long forgotten monster’s skin.
Perhaps the one article of literature most popular, and indeed gets discussed, at great length while these other articles and those like it sit and gather dust, is the bewildering “Discourse On Evaporation and Condensation.” One of our Hammerdwarves, Iron Oltarnelas, never lets the book leave his side, and regularly brings it out to discuss what they claim are lies, perpetuated most likely by the dastardly Elves, on the water cycle. It’s surprisingly convincing, that or Iton is an excellent debater, for more often than not have I noticed dirty looks from the laborers outside towards the frozen river, and the unsettling rumor that “you know the rains steal your soul” becoming an unchallenged fact.
But enough meditation on the finer things, the work of the fortress must be carried out.
A few open cases of crimes against Dwarven society appear to be left open, with few giving them much attention. I endeavor to prioritize the closing of such cases-
When a much larger problem surfaces as I dig through the ledger.
It appears, upon investigation, that work orders had indeed been in place, but had not been updated as the population of the Fortress bloomed. As such, despite having 8 stills constructed, only one was in operation, and at a lazy rate at that.
This cannot be allowed. I have ordered all the stills to be put into operation, and the work order updated from “make 100 drinks each month” to “make 200 *daily.*” I’ve no idea how long we can sustain that production rate, but until our alcohol stocks are in the healthy three and four digit counts, the stills will run night and day.
4th Granite
I passed by the mayor, hearing his grumbles about having to work in this stinking mudpit all the damn time. I thought these harsh words for a civilization of such opulence efficiency, but upon meeting with him in his office, he was being quite literal.
It looks as though this first office was made when the fortress was founded, and as the depths were dug and treasures uncovered and crafted, the poor mayor never received any upgraded accommodations, and it’s left him in a rather shitty mood.I have commissioned a new office space for him, ‘lest the mayor’s sour mood causes him to create unreasonable edicts.
It appears two poets, one dwarven and one human, wish to permanently reside in Threebeard, and petition for citizenship. Alas, more voices to add to our culture! I approve their paperwork.
I find myself driven to… pity, I think, over passing by the Mountain Titan we’ve trapped. It is such a strange concept, all but completely foreign to the goblin mindset, yet I hear its sorrowful bellows as it scratches around in its hallway, unable to stand or grasp, with the occasional marksdwarf giving it a bolt or two for good measure. Also, to try and chronicle the extent of its wounds would take twenty or thirty pages of a ledger. It’s basically one giant crawling scabbed over flesh of sadness, rolling around in its own blood and filth eternally. I cannot bring myself to feel revulsion for something brought so low, even a monstrosity such as it. There’s no denying it is deserved, and despite some calls to put the creature down permanently, I feel the fate the fort has engineered for it is more fitting.
8th Granite
Sakzul, a dwarven child, sank into depression. There’s signs of him being a delinquent, as three of the outstanding crime reports tracked back to him, complete with confessions and witnesses. Perhaps something should be done about our wayward youths. Perhaps enlistment, or military boarding school might give these kids the direction they currently lack.
I find we currently do not have a Militia Commander, despite having two squadrons of dwarves. Few of our current residents show any skill for the position, so I take my best judgment and nominate Obok Nilenas, a farmer, who has shown at least an adequate degree of leadership.
Barely a week of the stills working non stop, and already our drink supply is looking much better. Never should one question the tenacity or efficiency of the longbeards!
15th Granite
A fight has broken out between a human lasher and one of our marksdwarves!
The human uncannily bites THROUGH the neck of the marksdwarf! What manner of monstrosity is this tall beast! Another poet jumps into the fray!
And then… the fight is over?
All the participants listed within the fight seem to be off relaxing or doing work, and two corpses not listed in the battle logs are in the tavern. Very mysterious. I’ve scheduled the burials, and will investigate the crime reports.
In more promising news, a child has claimed a workshop and is screaming demands for rough gems, yarn, metal bars, and bones. The opportunity for more artistic masterpieces!
Another poet and a speardwarf petition for residency. Approved.
Another dwarf asks for residency, an Ona Barbcottons. She does not list a purpose, but as a lady consort, I suppose she’s of a status where labor is below her. Well, kinda, she apparently has had seven children. So, she’s… contributing to society? I reluctantly agree to her joining.
18th Granite
Our drink supply continues to be healthy. Perhaps at 1000 stocked drinks will I let the brewsmiths slow production, and raise the work order from 200 to 400 or 500. Better to have the brew stashed, should something force us to rely on stored provisions for a while.
25th Granite
That child finished its artifact helmet, a mighty valuable helmet indeed!
This momentous occasion, however, leads me to a puzzling discovery, as I examine the treasures of the fortress for cataloging.
Did-
Did someone just make a sandal that’s infused permanently with the rank stink of unwashed dwarf smell? As a foreigner, I find this very confusing. Back in the dark pits when we said dwarves smelled like ass that died a month ago, it wasn’t meant as a compliment.I still have much to learn about my Dwarven patrons.
A human dancer arrived with a book about herself, written by herself. Flipping through it, all it seems to say is “why I’m so great.” Trite garbage, if you ask me.
27th Granite
It is raining today, and elven poets have come to visit. Iton Oltarnelas and his “Dihydrogen Monoxide Deniers” insist this isn’t a coincidence.
3rd Slate
With much of the initial changes slowly coming into place, I begin focusing on secondary work, such as cutting further into the encroaching trees and smoothing the boulders around our roads
7th Slate
By all the demons in the hells, I saw a sight that chilled the black pit where my heart would reside.
I stared, bewitched, as an elf fucking hovered over our river. I swore time for me had frozen still, until I watched a fisherdwarf pull a fish from the water twenty yards away and move back towards the fort. The world around lived and breathed and animated, but THAT ELF STAYED THERE, HOVERING, NOT TOUCHING THE WATER.
It’s becoming harder and harder to write off Iton’s water conspiracies. It’s practically confirmed at this point, and it’s clearly the work of the bastard elves.
Something must be done.
A Note Discovered Tied to the Back of a Rat
9th Slate
Some random spearman has been spotted being shifty, then declared hostilities and approached the fort.. The military has been sent to deal with him.
Our mayor caps the spy in the leg, and seemingly gives zero fucks.
A dogpile ensues, and the trespasser is quickly dispatched with no injuries to our military.
14th Slate
Oh balls.
The beast comes from below where we’ve been mining – there are open pathways all over the place! I quickly order some levers to be pulled which should seal at least two entrances, but with the additional tunneling and mining, I’m not sure all the pathways in are truly sealed.
I prepare a third squad, mostly of peasants and bards, and order them to carry crossbows, and prepare to face the underground horror. Hells it moves fast, I’m not sure if the levers
The during the beast’s deathmarch towards our noble fortress, it opts to take a swim through an underground pond, and encounters some pond grabbers, whom engage the beast, causing it injury. Perhaps fate is on our side! Get ‘im you little buggers!
The beast makes quick work of the sea spawn, and approaches our gates!
Our dwarves make a tactical retreat, trying to lure the beast into a better fighting position – which is the perfect time to take a nap, our mayor decides.
WAKE UP MAYOR!!
The Mayor is swiftly dispatched with a single kick to the head. I guess you could argue that at least he didn’t suffer.
WHAT IS THIS BATTLE MEDITATION NAP SHIT, WAKE THE FUCK UP MACEDWARF – FOR FUCKS SAKE YOUR COMRADES ARE DYING
Dwarven marksman with more gall than sense strafe the beast with crossbow shots and then close the gap to club it to death while their melee armed compatriot continues his sleep. They’ve bloodied the beast, and its ability to stand has been lost.
Finally, as the monster chews through two more of our soldiers does our macedwarf decide he should fucking get off his ass and do something.
The remainder of the dwarven army rush in, and strike the beast down! VICTORY FOR THREEBEARD!
In the end, the monster took six of our own with it, and Imi landed the killing strike.
Tulon Endokkodor, a mason, is elected mayor as Oddom upgrades his napping schedule from “unopportunistic” to “permanent.”
22nd Slate
Tombs for the fallen are assigned, and life settles down in the wake. At least for the family and loved ones now mourning, there’s plenty of drink to drown one’s self in.
A weaver hasn’t been seen in a week. This probably does not bode well for them.
22nd Felsite
A quiet month goes by with little to report on. We dig out some more minerals, I set the squadrons to train in their downtime, to prepare for another calamity, and hire some more bards into the positions lost. We will have warrior poets amongst our ranks! I also build a floor within our ziggurat, just above the archery range, and assign it to the captain of the guard.
Those bloody fucking elves are still just there, one wading in the water while the other stands above it, months later. I’m torn between waiting until the winter to see if the bastards freeze to death, or just sending out our military for some easy target practice.
1st Hematite
And we find ourselves settling into summer. I find myself considering a larger project to keep my subjects busy, something of a grand scale. I order some clearcutting in a path just above the ziggurat.
A blasted kobold, trying to pilfer our goods! What’s perhaps the worst of it, some of our fine literature! The bastard was spotted near the borders, and thus escapes, though he’s forced to leave the stolen goods behind
13 Hematite
Oh god damnit
More monstrosities plague us. It appeared close to the tunnel’s main gate. I send the military and order the gate lever pulled.
One soldier does not make it before the bridge rises, and I loathe to leave him to his fate, yet do I risk the rest of us by attacking the beast?
We scream down the staircase for Lokum to defend himself, bar the door to slow the beast, and a curious thing happens
The beast, though its size would suggest it would bust the door down, seems disinterested and wanders its way back through the snaking hallway. Puzzled, we order Lokum to lift the bar, and the creature turns back towards the hallway at the sound of the creaking.
An insane plan instantly forms.
I must admire the craftiness of the dwarven leaders that constructed this entrance that came before me. We goblinfolk know not of such war tactics, and I had not realized the ingenuity of this entrance set up until this moment. We lowered the gate and let the dwarven militia fly back down, and once the beast approached the door, again we slammed down the bar. Meanwhile, our archers set up to pincushion the bastard from the safety of the fortifications.
In the first volley alone was the monster devastatingly wounded.
18th Hematite
It takes a few days, but the beast is brought down at our leisure by the marksdwarves.
As in the history of our fortress, three monstrosities have come to threaten our existence, and I have coordinated the deaths of two, I believe I have proven myself to the people, and formally request that I no longer have to wear this itchy fake beard.
3rd Malachite
I continue my mundane improvements around the fortress. For some light practice, I send our newest squadron to put a few fresh crossbow bolts into our captured titan. A few of our recruits become proficient enough from the practice to be named proper marksdwarves.
Although frequently delayed, I finished the mayor’s new study and dining hall, so hopefully that will improve his mood.
16th Malachite
Spooky things are afoot.
23rd Malachite
Bastards! More than likely it was those kobold fucks from earlier.
Currently, there is a civilization of the little rat bastards nearby.
Currently.
Perhaps we should change that.
27th Malachite
The spookiness continues with some rather strange guests.
23rd Malachite
Bastards! More than likely it was those kobold fucks from earlier.
Currently, there is a civilization of the little rat bastards nearby.
Currently.
Perhaps we should change that.
6 Galena
During the construction of my great project, a mistake in the order of mining and channeling led to a small but costly cave in. One of our legendary miners was knocked several levels straight down through the construction.
He survived but is horribly injured. I am not sure what will become of him, should he live.
24th Galena
More construction kerfuffles.
2nd Limestone
Autumn has come to the fortress, and we continue to enjoy a quiet peace. Once again as a training exercise, I send the marksdwarves to pincushion our titan a few more times. It strangely is a great way to inspire the men’s confidence, and the fact that it wiggles and moves about makes it a better practice target than our static ones. It tenaciously hangs onto life, refusing to die.
13th Limestone
A caravan from Tunomonul has arrived! Traders! Commerce!
Upon inspection of our goods and works, the stuff I feel most comfortable parting with is some of our foodstuffs. We have near four thousand worth of meals, and since the kitchens apparently have run non stop, our chefs have become something of culinary masters, creating five gem dining experiences that can’t be had elsewhere. As for what the traders themselves brought, it wasn’t much, mostly a few animals and some meat.
Watching our broker, Texicus the First negotiate, however, was something entirely else. He marched away from his favorite woodworking bench, and strode up to the depot as though he was going to punch someone. Upon seeing the head merchant, Olon, he shouted loudly,
“WELCOME TO McTHREEBEARD’S! How may I take your order?”
The merchant, Olon, recoiling from the yell, asked puzzled, “I, uh- we-, I thought- We’re here to trade, I thought this was-”
“SIR, I’ve got other customers waiting, please don’t hold up the line.”
Olon, still off balance, looked slowly around the inside of the ziggurat, at the rest of the dwarves milling about on their own business, and then outside towards the long, empty road running off into the distance.
Olon shook himself, and then turned back to Texicus, “I- uh, I guess- uh, well, uh, what do you recommend?”
Texicus produced a menu of sorts, scratched into a long piece of bark he had inside his robe, never breaking eye contact.
After a few moments of consideration looking at the menu, Olon spoke up “I guess we’ll have the pear and leaf roasts, as well as the chicory roasts, and a small side of the turnip roasts.”
Texicus nodded quietly, “Five thousand dollars.”
“FIVE-! FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS, FOR SOME FOOD, WHAT IN-” Olon began, before Texicus cut him off.
“Five thousand, and it’s worth every cent. It’s the best goddamn food you’ll ever have. Better than the embrace of your first lover, or the vibrations running up your arm as you bury your axe halfway into an.. oak trunk.”
Olan seemed to consider that statement for a long time while looking into Texicus’ single, bloodshot eye, and come to some kind of conclusion about the type of person he was dealing with. He tried, one more time, “alright, well, uh, I mean, we didn’t bring any money, just some animals and meat to trade, and-”
“Credit accepted, transaction complete. Your meals will be with you shortly,” Texicus remarked, and turned to walk away.
“W-wait!” Olan started, but then thought better of it, “… do we at least get anything to drink with our meals?”
“Yes….” Texicus said, stopping only for a moment, and never turning back, “All the sap you want.”
6th Sandstone
A nearby cougar harasses our dwarves. I send a squadron of marksdwarves to see it off.
Construction on the mega-hole continues to go slowly. The caverns are filled with more aquifer levels than expected, and after a few non-starts and concussed dwarves from accidental cave ins, a more cautious tunneling and deconstruction method had to be put into place. Still, we’ve made it deeper than the original plans had suggested, and after consulting with the dwarven medical experts and physics masters, the consensus seems to be “more fall distance equals a louder crunch on impact” and thus, we continue to mine deeper and deeper. It is my hope that future Overseers will continue to add levels of depth to the hole when the opportunity arises, adding to the lethality of the fall with the passing years.
20th Sandstone
The Mountainhomes sends a diplomat!
They offer to officially establish this colony as a barony of the Mountainhomes!
The possibilities seem plentiful for doing so – and yet, I wonder if still we’re doing better as our own free nation. Still, as rich and prosperous and strong as we are, it is possible, politically, that we may simply exert our mightiness and become the Mountainhomes.
After some consideration, I decide it should be so. We will become a Barony, and in the fullness of time, THE Mountainhomes. Texicus, the founder of these lands, is the obvious nomination, and the Diplomat agrees, though I think it’s mostly because he already has “THE FIRST ” in his title, and thus the paperwork is a lot easier for him.
As for trade goods, I notice we don’t have much in the ways of glass, despite the sand and the furnaces available, and animals, particularly dogs we can train for war. We really don’t need much and are fairly self sustaining, thus I’m not sure what else to ask for.
Ironically, windows are what the diplomat states the (current) Mountainhomes also lack. Future overseers, take note, there’s profit to be made from this dust that just keeps getting in our shoes.
23 Timber
I haven’t had much time to write in the log this past month, there’s been so much to do with becoming a true Barony.
We begin construction of our new Baron’s quarters above the Living Quarters level
And in the top of the Ziggurat we install a level for the Baron’s tomb, using the relic coffin The Mad Bear Digs crafted.
Upon his rise to Barony, Texicus named another Goblin as mayor.
Both immediately took to their new positions and demanded specific goods be crafted, Strodno demanding chains, and Texicus demanding amulets.
A bard, struck with a fey mood, begins a curious construction in the meanwhile..
And with few unconquered dangers or supply problems, I turn to focus on my mega-hole.
This blasted thing will surely be the death of me. Of the 15 or so levels we’ve channeled out, something like 8 of them have been aquifers, and as the weather grows colder, the moisture seeping through the soil before we can wall it up safely has taken to freezing into solid ice walls, requiring a second mining pass.
Megabeasts, I can certainly handle as a mighty warrior, but these aquifers? They’re worse. Meanwhile, Iton won’t let me hear the end of it with the Evaporation and Condensation book.
19 Moonstone
The bard comes back, having made a masterwork piano.
In the meantime, I’ve begun to convert one area into a statue garden, wherein we can immortalize all the Overseers that have come and gone with statues. I’ve spent time trying to learn of their great achievements with which to immortalize them. I’m not sure I will build one for myself, if only to let those that follow determine how best to represent my contributions to society.
In truth, I’m not sure at all that I’ll get a chance to finish it, with the large hole project delays, and the waning year, but others can pick up my slack in the future.
24th Moonstone
What in the absolute hell – some kind of battle has broken out in the Temple of Voices!
Likewise, the Brass Sourness explodes in violence!!
Even I, running into the fray to figure out what’s going on and possibly stop the madness, take an elbow to the chin, and a mighty beating. I’ve no idea what’s going on or what caused the sudden outburst of violence-
IT’S A FULL ON RIOT
WHAT IS HAPPENING, WHAT CAUSED THIS
Moods were relatively even throughout the fortress, some happy, some miserable, but most in the averages, I cannot imagine that things were bad enough for a full riot
I am trying to log things as quickly and quietly as I can, for future Overseers to understand, this literally came out of nowhere, I ha
– – –
4th Opal
*BY ROYAL DECREE OF THE DWARVEN MOUNTAINHOMES*
*THE BARONY OF THREBEARD IS NOW OFFICIALLY*
*PLACED UNDER MARTIAL LAW*
Following the break out of an unsightly riot, The Dwarven Monarchy has declared that the outpost Barony of Threebeard be placed under martial law for the foreseeable future. Dwarves are to return to work in an orderly fashion, and curfews are to be imposed.
The nature and purpose of the riot has yet to be determined, pending investigation. As of the moment, Baron TEXICUS THE FIRST was last seen in the wilderness, north of the Ziggurat, gravely injured.
The designated Overseer, Masochism Tango, has been discovered dead. Inquiries into his activities and whether any blame can be laid upon the neck of the goblin scum are currently underway.
Citizens are hereby ordered to assist in cleaning and repairing the fortress, and are ordered under strict pain of hammering to comply with all militia orders without protest or resistance.
All Construction Projects are hereby placed on indefinite hold until future notice.
7th Opal
(ooc: Game. Game pls. Pls, game, game, c’mon man, pls. Why.)
🎵 Radirost, The snow blob, was an evil rotten bloke
With emancipated wings, and endless rage
And two arms made out of oak 🎵
*BY ROYAL DECREE OF THE DWARVEN MOUNTAINHOMES*
*THE UNDERGROUND MINES ARE TO BE SEALED*
*IN THE FACE OF THIS NEW DANGER UNTIL STABILITY IS*
*ACHIEVED*
Thikut, “Or, you know, we could just shoot it.”
“That was the wimpiest monster ever, one shot turned it into a puddle.”
Skakul, our troubled teen of a dwarf, grew to adulthood, and was immediately placed into military service.
Progress begins on catching up with our sudden need for a lot more tombs.
Mostly because this place stinks like hell now.
7th Obsidian
Things more or less have stabilized. And I’m gonna come back and edit all this later stuff after my dude died like some oppressive dwarven governor or something.
Oh what the fuck do you want buddy I’m over this.
Seriously I’m done being cute, I’ve murdered three megabeasts (though one was a total bitch), say hello to my army
DID YOU HAVE !!FUN!!?
22nd Obsidian
A possession before the year ends!I wonder what will be made
24th Obsidian
Sodel claims a stonemason’s workshop
Needs:
Rocks, metal bars, bones, tree life(?), rough color (??) and cloth thread
