Late obsidian saw the beginning of spring, though it had yet to arrive on the calender. The barracks was still slowly rising, but Feral's insistence on building materials was the main obstacle. The new apartment building was also attached to the armory, making it easier to arm the clan if needed. When spring finally arrived, they were still working diligently and the hobgoblins began to pack up to leave for home, or wherever they intended to go. The highlight of the new year was the whir of gears, and a dead xelic being found outside the ancillary door. Slowly but surely however, the clan's living space grew, and additional supplies were loaded into the old dorm, which now also served as a permanent hospital. The river also thawed shortly after, indicating it was at least the 4th of Granite. “We'll try to coax some of your people to come here. I'm sorry none arrived last year.” The caravan master said. “We'll appreciate it. Thank you.” Feral said, shaking his hand. “Live well dwarves.” The hobgoblin said before driving his beetles onward. With that, the residents of Limulid we left to their own devices again. Eventually more than half the clan had beds to call their own, and one of them had taken to working a loom and clothier's shop so they could put the large amounts of cloth they had purchased over the years to use. And in a sad turn of events yet again, no migrants came. [Once again “The fortress attracted no migrants” message. Starting to get a little annoyed because now I need the manpower for my animal taming operations.] However, the barracks was finished, with beds and storage if they were needed, and the militia had a place to train on their own to keep their skills sharp.
By last spring the apartment was nearly finished, permitting more of their number their own beds. One night at dinner, Corai was struck with an epiphany. “Gold!” He said suddenly. “Come again?” Slade asked. “We struck gold didn't we? Let's mine it out and pave over the roadbed in gold! The place is called Goldenrocks isn't it?” He said enthusiastically. “Yeah, Goldenrocks. Not Goldenroads.”Anvil retorted through a mouthful of boar meat. “Ah yes, BUT! What better way to attract more dwarfpower than to pave our main road in gold ingots!” The group sat for a moment. “Dwarf has a point.” Splint said. “If we do something that frivilous, then dwarves will see we have the wealth for it.” Some nodded, others said nothing. Midnight however quickly became the focus when she walked in on her own. “You know what? Screw it. Wax, Slade, get into the workshaft and bring us up some gold tomorrow. If it takes that to show the world we're successful, then so be it.” Wax and Slade nodded, and went back to their meals. They heard trumpeting outside and many set aside thie food and grabbed their amrs, expecting an ambush, but instead they found a giant war beetle. It lay motionless, with pus leaking from cracks in its chitin. Targe rushed over and shook the beetle, but t did not stir. “Looks like it died from an infection.” Targe sighed, looking over the injuries. “Can we give it a headstone Feral?” The espedition leader shook his head. It hadn't earned a name to be remembered, so with heavy hearts, Targe and Squid hoisted the creature up and moved it to the refuse heap.
[So yup. Another pisspoor short update. Once more we evidently haven't exported enough shiny shit to draw in people, all but one kid is walking, and a beetle died of injuries sustained in the winter ambushes. We're now mining out a gold vein to build the road. That might draw someone in.]