Dear Queen of the The Closed Dagger,
I, the expeditionary leader and soon to be the last living resident of the outpost Goldsquash, wish to report on our status to you.
First, when we set out to these unruly lands, I specifically remember asking you to keep our numbers small, around 50 or so, so we wouldn't attract the attention of our neighboring goblin outposts. In spite of that, your infinite wisdom insisted on only working from the reports of your liason, who stayed so blindingly drunk during his last visit I'm surprised he knew how many fingers and toes he left with. I have no idea what he reported to you, but two waves of migrants of nearly 30 members EACH would certainly far surpass the 50 I requested us to stay at, nevermind our original members. I want to thank you for that and explain to you how that affected us.
First, you must understand that our aquifer problems were never ending. Two years in and we were still drilling over ten stories deep into the earth, trying to get past the Armok bloodied water. Our defenses consisted of wood and bone. Yes, wood. The same offense that you burned the elves forever out of history for, we had to use for defenses... for our ever increasing number of citizens. You can thank your drunken liason for not mentioning THAT little tidbit.
After this last winter, the last set of migrants you sent to us apparently had no idea how to cover their tracks, being filled with legendary cheese makers I can only assume you sent us the occupants of Starship B. Well, they're here. In spirit anyway.
While we tried to deal with the influx of people in our incredibly limited living space carved of dirt, the goblins tracked those migrants to us. Seeing a large number of dwarves, instead of moving on for more valuable prey, they stayed. Two units of goblin bowmen and hammermen have hit our meager defenses so far. Our hunting/ranger unit lost their minds during the first ambush. Only two survived. They still won't obey orders to get INTO the palisades and are currently so enraged they're clubbing the goblins to death with their crossbows... or teeth when they lose those. Our entire stock of livestock have been killed or are lost. So far our Water Buffalo has claim on having done the most damage, and he's currently running for the mountainhome.
Inside, the dwarves have gone mad with anguish. Because we just didn't have room for all these people to work indoors, many were trapped outside. When the goblins struck many died in the first wave. The rest are killing each other. Luckily they're blind with anger and grief and don't look around a corner or they'd see me furiously scribbling this in my office... which doesn't even have a door.
So, mountainhome and Queen, I leave you with this regard:
Do not return to Goldsquash. It is haunted. And if I can get my corpse into the river and float it anywhere near the mountainhome, I will personally come to haunt you until the end of your days, my ever wise and loving queen.
-Erush Egdothgeshud, leader of Goldsquash, soon to be sacraficed to Armok's bloody grace.
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Topic: What's going on in your fort? (Read 6194436 times)