Something is wrong here. The very land does not want us here. That is the only explanation.
The fortress was safe. It was happy. It was good. Our metalsmiths churned out magnificent steel weapons, the farmers produced enormous quantities of food, and there were rooms for every dwarf. It was perfect.
It all started with the undead kea. The drowned corpse that rose to challenge our military once more. A hunter slew it with a quick reaction, but it was then that I knew there was something wrong. But I willing to let myself grow lax, certain such an event would not be repeated. How wrong I was... Had I acted then, who knows how many lives I could have saved.
But alas, I did not act, and others paid the price. When the first necromancer was discovered, I thought that perhaps that was the end of our troubles. He was a fellow dwarf, but was cut down with the same prejudice as would be dealt to any practitioner of the foul arts.
Then the goblins came. Two patrols, sooner than I had expected. A fisher was ruthlessly murdered before any defense could be mounted, and the archers ran out straight into a group of speargoblins. Most of the archers died, as did another militia member, before the goblins were driven off in face of our superior steel weapons.
As we returned, we faced a horrifying sight. Our dead comrades had risen, gnawing on the living. They were put down swiftly, but the loss of so many will remain with me forever. I am stepping down as overseer, turning over that title to my successor, whoever they may be. I, the fortress hammerer, will face whatever justice is deemed necessary for my lapse in judgement. I am truly sorry.
Save will be up soon.