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[Tibbles]

10th Malachite, The Midsummer of 1012



As I lie here in my bed, writing with my one good hand, listening to my sheep bleat, and the incancessant whining of that bastard Guildsman, Cikul, I can only wonder what is happening about ground. After that moose incident, I've been confined here, and my Nurse occasionally brings me reports of what goes on up above. I still remain the real power in the Keep, but I haven't had a chance to exercise that power in Onbir knows how long.




I'm told that the entrace to our fotress has turned into a bustling hive of activity, but the uplifting sparing by our valiant millitary has stopped, as they are all out patrolling. The growth of the keep into the sky has been halted to add a proper roof, as a recent Insectoid raid flew over the low wall and slaughtered civilians that were working at the time. This also prompted our 'leader', Cango, to stop our sparring, and send out partrols to all quarters of our territory, to 'catch those buggy bastards'. While there haven't been insectiod raids in months, the Kobolds have stepped up their raiding parties and theivery attempts, and the Lizardmen and Tigermen are joining in on the fun as well, but they're only sent single theives at the moment. However, just one of our 9 man army can take on a 30 man squad, so I'm not overtly concerned at the moment.


I get reports every few days about our stocks and population statistics, but I only see good things. A recent caravan visit vastly increased out food stocks, and there are semi-regular immigration waves. However, This place is attracting the attentions of the big leauge, as recently, a Dungeon Master decided that he should take it upon himself to bed here, and study the errant werewolf that shows up. I think he intends to tame one of the beasts, the lunatic. He apparently makes daily demmands for 'lodgings fitting for one of his kind', but Cango, in one of the few moves I've agreed with, has stuck him in the dorms with the rest of the folk.

[A_Fey_Dwarf]

Wait this can't be a 'Tibbles fortress'. Where are the Beeees, Kobolds and cats?

[Tibbles]

25th Malachite



A new wave of immigrants arrived today. None of them possesed any skills that could not be performed better and faster by current residents, so they were all drafted, to provide a larger defense force. None of them have been given weapons, although they have been permitted leather armour, and a sheild. That 'Caps' fellow has been a one man squad for a while, and while he is good at taking down small threats, I'm going to have this squad put under his command once they are trained and battleready.

[Tibbles]

2nd Galena

I suppose I should write something of myself, and the history of this fortress, lest I go mad.

I forget how long we've been here, but I remember the first thing we did. The small wooden room with the channel in it, the room that provides fresh water during the all non-winter months, was the first room we ever built. The wooden room next to it was the second, and it became our living quarters. I was the miner back then, and I didn't do much apart from dig out new stone for buildings and such. While we get most of our stone from under the town now, there is a huge quarry to the south that I mined out on my own. I'm rather proud of that.

Things went well for a year. Maybe two? I can never remember. Our real test as a town came with the first werewolf we ever saw. A montrous beast. He tore apart Obnir knows how many innocent souls. Our population was whittled down to enough people to count using my fingers and toes. The leader at the time, A man who was so insignificant I can hardly remember his name, ordered me to go out and kill it, as we had no active millitary at the time. I reluctantly accepted.

[Tibbles]

To the south of our keep is a small valley. I had no idea where this thing was, and I was hoping it had run off, to pastures anew. We had no weapons, so all I was armed with was my copper pick. Softly treading through this valley, I was thinking more about how I was going to get revenge on that bastard Leader if I survived, rather than paying attention.

Quick as a flash, that, thing was on him. A huge thing, with once black fur stained red with the blood of many. I remember the name we gave him. Moralzeals the Scraped Cult. No idea what possessed us to call him that.

At any rate, he was on top of me, his huge teeth inches away from my face. Thinking quickly, I hit him in the head with the sharp bit of my pick. A little anti-climactic, now that I think about it. Here this 'horrible werewolf' was, a killer of many, and I killed him dead in about two seconds. Funny that.

Of course, that wasn't the end of it.

[Tibbles]

A few days after my 'amazing act of bravery in the service of the Keep' one of our peasants reported an Avar Caravan approaching from the southeast. This, of course, lifted spirits immensly. Although, we've since learned that Avar carry no trade goods, and travel the world to mooch off towns, at the time we thought they were bringing supplies and other items.

A lot of the town ran out to greet them, leaving six left in the Keep. Our Leader at the time was one of the ones that ran out to meet them. I was not. I was on top of the wall, enjoying a well deserved rest.

When the greeters were about fifty metres away from the caravan, a group of Insectoids appeared from hiding. They tore apart the caravan, the greeters, and came flying towards the keep. Rallying the few of us that were left, we stood at the gates for one valliant last stand.

[Tibbles]

I can't tell you much of the battle, as I remember so little. I just... I don't know. Something came over me. The last thing I remember is one of those things about to stab me, and then I woke up on top of a pile of slimy corpses. I'm told that I flew into a beserker rage, and in a 'very un-lady-like' manner, killed every last one of them.

Life resumed more or less as normal after that. A huge migrant wave arrived not too soon after, much of which we drafted into our non-existent millitary. Only one of the original ten has died, and the rest are fighters of such amazing skill that the caravans spread tales of their exploits. Many of the migrants show up merely to be in the same Keep as ones of such skill.

As for myself, I became the leader of this keep. Neither mining or the millitary held much intrest for me after the battle, so I turned to bookkeeping, woodcutting, and finally hunting. The injury that landed me here was inflicted on me when a moose kicked my hand, smashing most of the bones. While it is nice to get some proper rest, and my room is of noble quality, I yearn for the day that I will be allowed to resume my duties as leader once again.

[Tibbles]

(I didn't make any of that story up. That one miner killed a legendary, named werewolf and an entire Insectiod amush squad with no wrestling experience whatsoever. I also have 4 artifacts, a goat bone tower sheild, a wooden barrel, a Carnellien Braclet, and a Rock salt amulet)