NatureRags Post 7:
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Next Post(8)The insane bowyer, upon whose crazy insistence we breached our safety net that resulted in the slaughter of two dozen goblins and several wounded dwarves, has finished his bow. Yes, it's not even a crossbow, it doesn't even include
powdered unicorn kidney, and it's named like he doesn't even know how to spell Legolas. Behold, Lelgaszes Lelumrinal, or in slightly less crazy: "Lushbrands the Waning Ivy." For some reason it features a gobbo and not much else, and that gobbo showed up in the last artifact too. After scouring the civilization page, it turns out this gobbo isn't immediately important at all. While going through the civs screen I learned that with the loss of our broker some three years ago, we can no longer export "Death" to the Kobolds. I shall have to inform the military, as they are prime trading partners.
An "animal" storage stockpile has been dug out and declared near the volcanic caldera. I never used to buy in to cage traps, until I realized that the cage trap's fun doesn't end with the triggering of a trap or the clogging of it's killamajigs, like a stonefall or weapon trap would. No, now we've got sacrificials for Armok and whoever else happens to like absolutely incinerated goblin encased in molten rock. Unfortunately this removes all the hilarity of watching invaders chase dwarves and animals that got trapped outside the walls in circles around the caldera until one of them wises up and pincers the escapee, where they get promptly chucked in the lava and/or dodge into it themselves. The sacrifices we make for the greater good *sigh*.
There's a giant cloud of miasma at the old magma pit, where we dumped refuse when we walled ourselves in. For whatever reason, dwarves are reluctant to incinerate goblin corpses, even though they're fancy free with chucking live ones into pools of molten rock. So everyone is a bit less happy because no one wanted to cremate this corpse. Way to go dwarves.
A donkey child (foal?) has grown to become a donkey. A donkey has grown to become dinner. The single butcher's shop is on overdrive (Illegal in 37 US states and at least two Canadian provinces), cause we have too many animals that everyone refuses to train. Even dogs, the quintessential war animals, are denied war training. Apparently we need some equal opportunity laws in here, but until Dwarven Congress can pass those (ie never) we'll have to settle for just eating them. If this fort gets to the point where we're so desperate for defenders we're training dogs, the day is already lost.
A quick glance through our food stocks reveals that, Sweet Dwarven Urist, I hope you all like plump helmets. And if anyone complains that all we're brewing is wine, you can see what water tastes like. We've got a well, and it's only like 5% coated in blood.
The Coffinworks (It graduated to a proper name) has been grinding nonstop, the burial hall has over 100 bodies in it, and they're still finding corpses, skeletons, bones, fingers, and teeth to inter in there. A quick count of the dead on the units list shows 169 deceased in the area, and the lions share of that is dwarves.
I peeked in on a sparring session, and I wish I hadn't.
Armok help us. This goes on for like 4 pages. This dwarf spent a full two in game days bashing the wrestler in the head. I don't think he gets what sparring is about, this is just Whack-a-Mole.
The elves have come to trade. I offer them a handful of stone crafts produced by some legendary stonecrafter before goblins killed everyone, in exchange for all their seeds and... a cedar mail shirt? How do you make wooden chain mail? I take it for the novelty. Then on a whim I try and trade it back to them. That didn't end well, but I already took everything I wanted. I may just topple the depot on them out of further spite. I seize a few pieces of rope, because you can never have too much rope, and they leave in a huff. See you next siege- I mean year!