So I get an ambush right at my gates, immediately as my first ever forgotten beast appears. I worry. I fret. My luck with militaries is... iffy, my traps aren't done....
So I pause, sip my drink, and get to work. The Dorfs of Wallblazed spring into action. Noncombatants flee. The human merchants outside buy us time (I make a note to send their next caravan home with tons of free loot as an apology). The lava cistern that feeds the magma kilns is rerouted, the floodgate to the volcano is opened, and piping hot death is even now heading down towards my new guest.
Note to self, send fruit baskets to capyabera men.
The goblins slaughter the merchants, and make it through the stonefalls more or less alright, to face my militia.
The first seven dwarves, as soon as migrants arrived, set aside their old lives. They've been training nonstop, are clad in masterwork armour, lead by a dwarf with an artifact shield. The carnage is amazing. One new recruit stands there, lopping off limb after limb with his steel axe. No greenskin makes it past him with everything connected. The rest butcher them, the raid leader is reduced to a torso by the axedwarf... the final goblin tries to run and near as I can tell, my captain of the guard grabbed him by his shorts and threw him into the stone fall traps.
It was... glorious.