Epson: Threw it out. We needed some more space for tha mastiffs.
Higgenbotham: And
what made that seem like a good idea?
Epson: They bite through iron o' course!
Higgenbotham: Shut up. We're selling one of the dogs to buy an anvil when the traders get here.
Epson: Tha doesn't make mucha sense there, Higgen. The dogs ar mine. Tha anvil was ours.
Higgenbotham: Maybe you didn't notice my name carved into the face, sides and the chains keeping it on the wagon, but I assure you, the Anvil was MINE. And YOU will be paying for it, with a war mastiff or a +mastiff steak+.
Epson: Alrigh, alrigh, I'll put together a cage....
A dwarf and his lamb enter the area. Migrants have arrived.Momuz: Babar, look, a baboon!
Babar: Baaaaaa!
Momuz: Yeh, this'll be a good new home.
Babar: Baaaaa!
The rest of the migrants follow suit, and a farm dwarf named Lur is thrown in a chair and told to count seeds.Some time laterSlothen: Where do the dwarves cave the most!?
Other dwarves: BronzeCloaks!
Slothen: Where do the goblins fear the most!?
Other dwarves: BronzeCloaks!
Slothen: Where do the cooks make the best roast!?
Other dwarves: BronzeCloaks!
Lur: Ey, traders!
Merchant: Aye, that be us.
Lut: Wul, how do I know yer the right dwarves? That shroom face over there looks like a kobold!
Caravan guard readies his mace to attack.Merchant: Heel, Bombul! He's not in any offense, other than bein a microline-for-brains. We're from tha Mint Tongs.
Lur: Is tha really wha they call it up thar?
Merchant: Ayup. The first ones were strange.
Lur: Well, let me go grab my sugar pliers and we can get this trade under way...hehehe.
Les wrote a quick list of fortress inhabitants.