Autumn
23rd of Limestone
Our second batch of migrants has arrived
Atir Ibrukathel: Miner/Jeweler
Iton Sarveshgatiz: Metalsmith/Fisherman
Muthkat Tiristrubal: Doctor/Farmer
Thikut Agathel: Farmer
The miner is a welcome addition to our slow (lazy) and relentless (stubborn) workforce.
I have begun to hate this job. It is as if I'm managing creatures with the work ethics of children; If children were raging alcoholic brutes. Soon I shall have a large room and a bed to myself. That should ease my pain somewhat. Sadly, the lesser dwarves will have to sleep in tiny holes in the wall. It is more than they deserve, but I assume it will be a term of their union agreement. I fear soon their will be mutiny. Ablel and Erib are inciting discontent. They are stirring up trouble. For control or out of sheer slothfulness, I do not know.
But I digress here is drawing of the entrance to our home.
Here is our farm.
Here are the smelters and the forge.
Eventually I will have another forge installed. For now we will have to make do with only one. I'm sure the caravan will be disappointed in our meager selection of trade goods. But I might be more inclined to care if the liason wasn't a blasted union representative.
12th of Timber
The trading caravan arrived today. And the thrice-damned liason, may demons feast on his entrails while he yet lives, is with them. I accidentally had someone block off the wagon's entrance, so its just the pack animals this time. The hours before I meet them will be spent preparing my appearance and perfecting my angry glare for the liason. In even more depressing news we ran out of alcohol. I need my alcohol. Without it the cassiterite fiasco becomes unbearable. The mountainhomes expect us to provide weapons for them. I weep every night; for I know that when the warden gets here I will be punished for the laziness of others.
13th of Timber
Our meeting began with this.
I braced myself for the inevitable union terms, but they never came. All he talked about was some trade agreement.
When he left the meeting I was puzzled; until the uproarious laughter of every dwarf in the fort was presented before me. It was all a practical joke. I was made to look a fool. I aquiesced to their demands. THOSE DAMNED BASTARDS TRICKED ME. Someday I will have my revenge, but for now I must prepare for my retirement.
I traded some trap components for an iron bar and alcohol, blessed alcohol. The rum served to bolster my spirits. It gives me the resolve to go on; to accomplish more.