My fortress has fallen, and fallen hard. Mere months into a promising fortress of 14 dwarves, a massive migrant wave arrives with, at last count, 21 dwarves. And right in the middle, as they wind their way around the end of the river - a werewombat appears. It's a massacre, the wombat brutalizing dwarves left and right. He kills just one macedwarf, but I forget to check for bites, and next full moon, sure enough, before I've even finished producing cloth for the hospital ... six of them appear. Oooops. Crap, here we go. Twenty-four dead dwarves later, there are 11 left. Two of them definite weredwarves (two lived, others tore each other apart), four more "resting" and almost certainly going to turn. Any caravan that ever appears is going to return news of a battlefield, a horrific war fought against some terrible opponent that left all dwarves but five dead upon the ground. One of them was not, in fact, a werewombat; the poor fishery worker has died now, but the four werewombats survive (one badly injured after transforming back). After the last turning, this was.
And now they have turned once more, killing that fishery worker. Seven survivors left, I'm going to wall the werewombats into an entry hall and reclaim the fortress around them with migrants, and I'm gonna just have to work without the original fortress inhabitants. A terrible blow, but far worse is the loss of everything built around them, and the fact that my entire fortress has, those parts not destroyed, been covered in blood, gore, and miasma.
AND THEY'RE STILL STRANGLING THE PUPPIES!
Time to continue attempting to cajole and FORCE THOSE DANG DWARVES into that entrance hall.