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[Imp]

midmorning, 24th Hematite, 436

Our new mayor has ordered all entrances to our cavern sealed until we have finished trading with the two caravans, and still forbids anyone to go above ground, even within the safety of our walls.  Rimmington has taken up post at the absolute top of the stairs, the tips of his boots not quite crossing the boundary that separates inside from out, and I've not seen his expression this grim since that one time I saw him staring into the silent and scentless shadows of the chasm.  Spottedpaged does not want the elves killed yet, and he has left Hamedwelled's body trapped with them.  We know they have cut it into chunks, for they have thrown torn limbs and parts of his back and belly up where we can see them, and they shout insults as to his taste and their eagerness to feed on the rest of us.  Spottedpaged has assigned us work deeper inside, and none now linger where they can see the atrocity save for Rimmington.

I was nearby when our mayor confronted him, accusing him of shirking duty and defying orders.  Rimmington sounded bored as he answered that he was on break and not breaking any rules, though his eyes never strayed from the sealed inner entrance to the labyrinth, the route he would have to follow to reach the elves.  It's a pleasure to see our mayor confounded, though Spottedpaged was not quite sputtering as he stalked away.  After our mayor had left I asked Rimmington what he was thinking, but again he simply shook his head and did not answer.

My wife is still responsible for the trading, so I went next to the depot to see how she fared.  She was just concluding business with the new caravan, and she seemed pleased by the goods they had brought.  Wood, leather, cloth, and a great deal of food mostly, without bothering to bring any armor we couldn't wear or weapons the wrong size for our arms.  Speakshoot showed me two very unusual pieces of leather, the first normal on the fleshed side, but with the skin side completely consisting of extremely tiny sharp hooks.  The second was normal on both sides, but nearly half a dwarflength in thickness.  The templar trader told us that these leathers were taken from giant fish in the sea, the first from a voracious hunter called a shark and the second from a true giant of a fish many dwarflengths long called a humpback whale.  He also had brought a small handful of sunberries.

When Speakshoot turned to deal with the other human traders, I noticed that one of the human guards was beckoning to me.  I approached and we talked, becoming something of acquaintances as the hours passed.  Feedshrines is a Templar, and claims the Templars have a vast empire of over a dozen allied tribes almost across the world from where our cavern is and that they worship scores of gods, including one that is Kodor, though they know him simply as Osman and believe he is a human woman.

He, or she as he is to them, is not a trusted or beloved god and is known as an inescapable balancer of fortunes and a cause of killing bad luck.  They sacrifice to Osman so that wagon axles won't break (And Feedshrines told me that was why the Templars had come with only packbeasts, that the axles of both wagons had broken while they traveled towards us) and so babies won't be miscarried.  Osman's chosen, often marked by lights and strange happenings, are short lived and make for perilous companions, often bringing death upon not just themselves but their friends as well and typically in strange and inescapable ways.

I set Feedshrines straight about Kodor, how he's a guide and a guardian, inspiring the dwarves he chooses to be in the right places at the right times, how he gifts a dwarf sometimes with the luck and skill to do what one cannot believe could be done.  How as Prophet of God he brings knowledge, signs, and visions, and how he watches over the whole world as well as his own followers, though he most often chooses to work through his chosen ones and sometimes in ways a dwarf only recognizes was Kodor's touch after some time has passed.

Feedshrines also told me what he claimed was a Templar legend about our territory, how a terrible life-eater slept below this mountain, waking every few decades to reach up through the ground with incredibly long arms, dragging everything it could catch down through the stone to its mouth and swallowing everything alive before going back to sleep.  An unlikely enough legend, given that if it was true then he was now within the monster's reach, so I asked him if he believed it.

He said he did, and that the only reason any member of this caravan was here was because they had been caught shortchanging the king's taxes.  Their punishment was to travel the great distance to here and make up several times the worth of their caravan to cover what they had tried to steal.  Armed guards had traveled with them most of the way and waited to escort them back after they left here.  And that they faced death if they failed - which considering they had lost the majority of their trade goods with their broken wagons was almost a certainty.

I laughed and told him I'd see what I could do, but that he should consider it a gift from Kodor if I succeeded and take it as advisement that Kodor was not Osman.  Another example of a dwarf being in the right place at the right time to achieve the impossible, for my wife is the broker and if he'd promise their caravan would return with better goods the next year I'd talk to my wife about what needed given this year.  He told me that he was only a guard, not even a merchant and nothing like the noble who would decide where the caravans were sent next year, but that if anything could convince them a tremendous profit surely would.

She's still busy trading with the humans, and I'll find something else to do than carve these words down for the rest of the time I've got to wait.

[Imp]

high noon, 8th of Moonstone, 436

As this winter deepens I realized that I had not carved any words into this journal since fairly early in the summer.  It is not quite that the months have been empty or uneventful, but I find my spirit stifled and I feel little urge to do anything but my labors.

I did succeed in persuading enough of my friends to call for a new vote for mayor within a week of the two caravans departing, but Spottedpaged was elected again.  He is widely supported and admired still, and most of my friends who agreed to call for a new election shouted their votes for him as well.  It's clearly not time to try to remove him from power yet, so I've tied my hopes to my beard and simply wait.  Far from being furious at Spottedpaged for the dead and eaten immigrant, he is hailed as our best leader yet.  I have urged my wife to act as if she cannot hear those words, and to swing her pick straight and true - without her that horrid usurping family would never have come here, they came for the home she made for them, and anything Spottedpage achieves was built upon her foundation and is to her glory.

Another siege came with the start of autumn, a day before we hoped to hear the shouts of our caravan approach.  They were trapped and dispatched without danger, Rimmington again slaying the few who survived the fall.  He is toasted in the feasting hall for his 21 kills, but still spends almost all of his time keeping watch from atop our outer walls.

There have been six marriages in the few months since Spottedpaged was first elected, and this is widely joked about as being another sign of his prowess as our mayor.  There are again enough beds for everyone, though Spottedpaged is insistent that each married couples share a single bed.

Our cavern has been considerably expanded, almost doubling in size, though our mayor seems to be more concerned with storage space than exploring.  100killer9ia assessed her skills accurately, she is perhaps five times faster than any of our other miners, though she has been spending much of her time recently on break with her new husband.  The expansion uncovered several clusters of various sorts of gems and a wealth of tetrahedrite.  Several levels of the chasm have been bridged and their edges sealed with walls.  Our mining encountered a spacious open area along the side of the chasm, an ideal space for a large number of chasm creatures to inhabit, but it was as empty as the silence would suggest.  Not even debris, spiderwebs, nor long dead bones can be found in this small cave, nothing to suggest that anything has ever lived there before we came.

Otto has been meeting with our new mayor almost daily for the last few weeks.  Along with a small number of others he feels that our caverns are mature enough to display far more beauty.  He wants considerable effort spent on engraving and decorating, and has prepared several hinge-moulds that he refuses to show to anyone, but speaks of often,  intended for the coins of future years, which he hopes to be permitted to mint freely.

This is quite a waste, but I have been encouraging him nonetheless.  If he can convince enough others that Spottedpage's lack of interest in artistry is a flaw in his leadership, then it is likely another election will be called and this time our mayor replaced.  For now Spottedpaged has answered Otto with rebuffs, then mandates for more platinum to be worked into art.  For the first mandate there was enough scattered platinum nuggets from my wife's trading to smelt into a single bar, and Spottedpaged directed 100killer91a to have the honor of working it.  She declared she wished to support Otto's artistry and borrowed his hinge-mould to shape another pile of the same style of coins.  For his second mandate of worked platinum, there was simply not enough left to be worked into anything.  Nor do we have much fuel.

I expected Otto to be sentenced but Trueurns, who has mostly worked as a brewer since immigrating here, was accused instead and ordered to serve 26 days in jail.  As we do not yet have a jail, Trueurns shall surely

(This journal entry ends abruptly and is not continued on this page)

[Imp]

Late morning, 15th Moonstone, 436

By the grace and mercy of Kodor I have made it back to the caverns, but I was certain my life was forfeit.  As I was finishing carving my last words a week ago, Rimmington shouted warning of a thief triggering a trap at our labyrinth's entrance.  Drunkenlabor and I went together, he to haul back the caged dark elf and I to reload another cage into the trap.

Drunkenlabor headed back inside without me, for I still need some time to fit the cage into its mechanism, and more to conceal it once I am done.  And I was not fast enough.  Somehow a dark elven ambush snuck close despite Rimmington's watch, and two rushed past me over the exposed mechanism, blocking my retreat and attempting to drive me outwards.  I ran to the south and tried to cut around our wall, but at least one of them had a crossbow and was firing at me, so I ran further south where the slope could provide some cover.  Rimmington told me all six of them followed me, but I ran and dodged and wasted no time counting.  Rimmington was shouting behind me, but I just kept trying to escape and couldn't hear what he was saying.  I know now that he was calling for the gate to be sealed so that my attempts to escape would not be thwarted by my instinct to rush back to the caverns the moment my panic began to fade - leading me to directly back into the dark elven squad again.

I was nearly to the river before I lost the quickest of them, but I proved the most agile and by Kodor's blessing was not hit by any of the bolts.  Getting back to the cavern might have proved a challenge, but I rang the bell we made by the liaison's hidden gate so someone knew to open it, and was able to slip back to safety through it.

I pray to Kodor that he sees fit to spare me from any other ambushes.  Trueurns was also lucky, his beating happened while I was fleeing for my life but he was only bruised.

[Imp]

Late evening, 6th of Opal, 436

Wave after wave of dark elven ambushes have approached the gates.  They overwhelmed the few reloaded cage traps and slowly passed into the labyrinth's greater trap.  Each time one of us approached a caged elf, another six or so elves sprang from hiding beside it, forcing the dwarf to flee back to safety, tempting the elves to chase us into their doom.  It has been more than a week since we last saw an elf approach, and I am starting to think we have captured all that remain within our territory, 25 of them now wait to die, though I believe the squad that chased me has escaped.  Spottedpaged is furious that our attention turned so fully onto this threat, and has ordered us to return to work.  He specifically demanded more platinum be fashioned as well, not that we have any to work.

Dissatisfaction with his poor leadership may be growing.  Though we did return to our labors, our efforts were interrupted moments later by the birth of the third baby born to our caverns.  As soon as the excitement of that birth calmed another couple chose that moment to wed.  It's quite a pleasure to see Spottedpaged this irritated.

[Imp]

mid afternoon, 1st of Granite, 437

I have claimed my first kill.  Rimmington kept watch from the wall until after the celebration over Lenscried's and Masterboat's marriage had faded, then he climbed down and spent some time crouched by the elf cages.  Usually he simply kills whatever enemies fall into our cage traps or survive the labyrinth's fall, but this time he sought out Spottedpaged instead of calling for someone to open the cages for him.

Rimmington told our mayor that we'd caught some especially strong elves.  One had the scarred cheeks of a named warrior, and another though not marked by naming scars wore enough jewelry to match weight with an anvil and moved while wearing it as if she were naked.  So he wished help in killing them, and he believed more elves could come at any time, so we needed those traps free now. He named off seven of us as the ones he wanted beside him; myself, Wheelyoung, Geniusglazes, Tradestop, 100killer9ia, Tightnessplanks, and Guardedinked.

Spottedpaged cursed him for being inept and afraid, and for looking for any excuse to stop a good dwarf's rightful work.  Rimmington stared into the distance until the mayor stopped shouting, then told him if he'd bother to get enough fuel so that we could forge armor, one dwarf probably could handle all seven caged elves, even these elves.  Until then, Rimmington's good dwarven hatchet did not overpower the weakness of using an orcish shield, and there wasn't even a full set of leather armor in a size a dwarf could wear.  Then Rimmington called for his squad to follow him, and we left the mayor behind and took up places around the caged elves.

Rimmington called release, and I raised my pick.  An elf ran right at me and I crushed in the back of its head.  Rimmington says my elf was a fairly average one, and that the one that Tradestop took down was the one who had earned a battle name, and we could all see Geniusglazes kill was special, for she was almost completely covered in earrings, bracelets, and other bangles.

The subtle defiance against Spottedpage continued after the fight with my wife giving birth to our second daughter.  I am very pleased that our family is the first to have two children born here, and our celebration will last days if I can arrange it.

[gumball135]

Still great. Keep up the good work.

[Imp]

After sunset, 15th Moonstone, 437

It had been months since I last carved words in my journal, but it feels far longer than that.  It seems easier for me to find time to carve my thoughts in winter and spring in any case.  My firstborn has grown into a beautiful child who loves talking to her mother and I, and Speakshoot still proudly carries our second daughter.  Our caverns have been filled with laughter and friendship, each new month bringing at least one new marriage and a birth or two.

A few new artifacts have been made, one a tastefully modest braies named Clutchglow and a second proclaimed as The Meanness of Colors, a strawberry-red loincloth decorated with the green tourmaline image of our female King's face stretched into a very immodest expression.  It's maker claims he was possessed, but none of us believe that when we look at the quality of his recent clothing.  Our caverns also now display Watchfulscale, a black pewter boot decorated with waterfalls and the taut, trapped visage of Niya Notchplagues, the dark elf who had bound poor lost Hamedwelled's severed beard to its belt before we slew it and its companion raiders.  Sadly Watchfulscale's creator really was possessed while she worked.

All summer long we faced sporadic attacks from goblins, mostly in scattered ones, twos, and small groups.  The human templars returned to trade on the 12th of Hematite and the closer human group arrived on the 15th.  A band of goblin archers followed the second caravan into their protected tunnel, but were sealed out before more than a couple of arrows could be exchanged over the rising drawbridge, and the humans were not significantly injured.

The templar group again arrived without a wagon, though this time they offered no explanation, and their goods this trip were far less valuable than their first visit.  They did bring a lot of wood which we had great need of, but also an anvil which we didn't need and only a few sides of meat, essentially nothing else.  They also refused to speak more than was needed to trade, and I saw one of their guards was keeping his crossbow aimed at a merchant throughout their visit.  Whatever their story was, they left without explaining it.

The other human caravan was worth more of Speakshoot's attention.  They brought many logs and quite a few of the metals we asked for, as well as a wide selection of fruits and vegetables.

During one of the goblin raids Threeclasped, one of our leatherworkers, was hauling a new cage to replace a trapped goblin's prison when he encountered a free goblin skulking within the labyrinth.  He shouted to warn us and prepared to fight, but the goblin was very swift and threw him into the wall head first, indenting a wide section of his forehead just behind his left brow.  Threeclasped recovered in time to break each of the goblin's limbs in turn and then slay it, all before Rimmington could reach the fight.  Threeclasped is proud as a diamond as he sits in his bed telling stories of the fight, and we can all tell his head is still broken for all that his wits don't seem addled.  He's well enough to tend to himself and work when needed, which makes it difficult to keep him in bed and drinking the water that he needs to heal - he insists he's well enough for spirits and will happily walk to a barrel and show it if challenged.

As the seasons turned to fall the number of goblins attacking increased, with several dark elf squads attempting assaults as well.  The liaison and our homeland's caravan arrived while we were facing small raids day and night, and this time Fountainveiled did not approach from the river, but from the middle of the northern hills.  Rimmington immediately organized our fastest dwarves to attempt to reach him and escort him safely to the cavern.  Our liaison was protected from worse injury, but our labyrinth and caverns were thrown into considerable chaos with goblins and elves being discovered almost around every corner by workers and recruits.  Some were not discovered until they were inside our cavern itself but nothing appears to have been stolen.

No dwarven lives were lost during those fights, though two dwarves were badly injured.  One is the daughter of 100killer9ia and Flashgilt.  100killer9ia is one of our fastest dwarves, and she didn't hesitate when Rimmington called for swift dwarves to save our liaison, though she cradled Baldmirror under her beard.  The baby's right arm was mangled by a maceblow, almost everything below the elbow crushed, though 100killer9ia slew the two goblins she and her daughter faced.  The child looks like she will survive, and we hope the arm will heal as she grows.

One peasant, Pageanguished, was also severely wounded.  The right side of his ribs were smashed and the bone in his lower calf snapped, cutting through the skin.  We expect him to need several years to heal.  His wife is surprisingly calm about his injury, though they have been married since spring and their time of celebration long over. 

Our cavern now boasts 19 families with 13 young children between them, only two of which are old enough to talk and all of whom have been born here.  Spottedplanks remains our mayor and highly annoying, calling frequently for work to be done in platinum and regularly ordering someone beaten for failing to satisfy him.  Bodicevices, our Captain of the Guard, seems amused by his orders and has been gentle in administering his duties.

The cavern continues to re-elect Spottingpaged as mayor, and most dwarves feel that life under him is amusing and pleasant despite the frequent beatings, the injuries, and the death of Hamedwelled.  Otto continues to campaign for our cavern to be redesigned for beauty and glory, and he has begun to suggest that we are worthy of being named The Mountainhome if we would only do so.  He's fast with his fists, so I don't bother trying to remind him we're not here for any such reason, and that our King who sent us here, at great cost to herself, would never come here.  That was not what Kodor commanded, though we seem to have lost our way and be settling more and more completely here.  I trust Kodor will return to us in time, if he is not already here and guiding us, and direct us to achieve his will.  I can only believe that he has not chosen our fate to fail him.

Vesselbusts is starting to fuss and Speakshoot is sleeping, so I shall stop carving now and comfort my youngest.  But I am worried as well that so often when I worry about following Kodor's will, I become distracted or something seems to happen that I must immediately tend.  Is it possible that Kodor wants

(The carved words end abruptly upon the page)

[Imp]

late evening, 17th of Hematite, 438

Our trading with the humans nearly ended this week.  The templar caravan arrived just past sunset on the 12th, and the larger human caravan hailed us barely past midnight on the 13th.  The first of their wagons was just starting down the slope into their protected tunnel when loud orcish shouts sounded from the four quarters.  Happily their liaison had traveled near the wagons this time and was able to get safely inside before we needed to seal the tunnels, but it was quite a close call for the humans.

The past few months have been filled with work and camaraderie.  A team of 23 immigrants, one of them a noble, arrived at the end of Slate last year, full of news of battles being fought against orcs and dark elves across the outskirts of the dwarven cities.  A full six of the newcomers follow Kodor, which amazes me still that so many of his followers have come at once.  They have recent word of Kodor and his works, our god has been giving visions to communities of a great work to being done here and a need to grant time for this work to be done.  This does explain why it has been so long since the last immigrants before these, but this does not match anything I have learned of what Kodor wants of us.  These six all had visions of Kodor telling them it was time to join his great work, and an opportunity for these immigrants to slip past the orcs and dark elves sieging their communities came shortly afterwards.

We are glad to have them.  No children came with them, though several arrived already married to each other.  The face of every one of these dwarves is resolute and determined, and they entered our halls as if they came to a place they were very glad to reach.  Even the noble seems genuinely glad to be here, and has been doing some work.  Their arrival seemed to inspire Spottedpaged as well, for after giving the orders to prepare space for them to be comfortable we finally began some limited exploratory mining.  That work had only just begun when the humans approached, but we now work extremely fast when we are mining, as 100killer9ia has shared several lessons in understanding how to coax stone willingly from the mountain's heart.

Spottedpaged won't be ordering much more of us though - With the new feel of purpose filling our cavern and the added excitement of the race the humans have just ran and won, there has been another election and Spottedpaged finally lost.  I believe our noble Tangledpaddle had much to do with this, for she has been speaking to us nightly of the need to plant ourselves more solidly here.  She says her god As has sent her a vision of our two futures here, and one leads to incredible treasure, purpose, and satisfaction, but the other has us lain to waste beneath the feet of conquerors who will greedily rip us from our mountain and destroy every last sign that we had ever been here.

Spottedpaged had been countering her claims, calling her a fraud and a liar seeking to usurp control of the cavern for her own ends.  He's still claiming this, and probably will for some time.  It's a pleasure to hear him so upset.  Our new mayor, Whippeddreams, is the mother of two children born here and has a wonderfully calm disposition.  She follows Tinmines, god of metals, and has shown herself to be a strong supporter of Tangledpaddle during the arguments over the last few months as our old mayor and our noble shouted at each other.

We number 97 now, with 22 couples caring for 23 children between us all.  I do think there are great things ahead of us and tremendous challenges to overcome.  To fill Kodor's will we must ensure we are not displaced from where he has sent us.  The excitement filling our halls is as thick and sweet as wine.