Well. This tale came to an end quicker than I would have liked. At first, I kept everyone underground, waiting for the intruders to find the opening to my domain. It at least had a ring of those glass traps. I figured, it would wound greatly what they did not kill. Perhaps my proto-militia could have taken them so wounded.
It wasn't meant to be. The invaders merely milled about, showing quite a bit of disinterest. I sent my militia nearby, hoping I could get them to chase them back to the traps.
Dwarves are terrible about following orders. They immediately waded into the fray, immediately being cut down. All excepting my wonderful predecessor-killing militia commander, who bravely directed the slaughter of his own men from a safe distance back. After seeing to the death of his men, he obeyed my order and returned to the barracks. The goblin siege stalled.
The population was muttering, completely dissatisfied with the conduct of the commander. A brewer somehow managed to drop him with a solid punch, took his spear from him, and inexplicably took off with it. The goblins chose then to descend.
Now, I had my line of traps, but they had their gaps. To goblins found most, losing only two of their number to a spray of shimmering green and crimson that I imagine even the most elfish of fools could have enjoyed. They found my commander, still on his back, and finished the work.
Within minutes, I went from a population of over a hundred down to one. One single soul. I imagined him or her to be crazy, distraught, probably drinking booze. I use my unit menu to locate this brave soul.
It is an infant, presumably stashed away by a parent hoping for the best, amoungst the stone mechanisms that were awaiting the green glass serrated discs that never came. I waited a while, to see if a roving goblin could administer the coup de grace, but it didn't happen.
With a heavy heart, I turned away from my colony. There is no rescue. I pity the child. Poor kid; You deserve a far better tomb than this.