So far, only zelks and zombie musk ox have been wandering around, generally avoiding my settlement.
Actually, I think I'll do a log type story for this fortress...
20th Slate, 1051
Dear Diary. My chest hurts. But perhaps I should explain who I am, first. I am Ingrish Delerushul, in the common tongue my last name would be Steelrealms. I was assigned to this desolate wasteland for one reason... I had a vision of a majestic Dwarven fortress unlike any other, and for some reason, it was to be placed here. Only four others from the homestead were insane enough to come with me, "An underwater glass fortress underneath the tundra where the zombies walk?" the others would ask.
Fortunately I held some influence over two others who came with us as bodyguards, skilled hunters and marksdwarves. I had saved them from a zombie attack last year, that is why they agreed to come with.
Armok bless my axe.
Why does my chest hurt? Those damn zombies. Zombie musk ox, in fact, who got a little too near our settlement, and so the three of us charged them; I stuck nearly all of them down, but not before being kicked in the chest, which has placed me into bed here. Not even in the chamber which will be my own! And my friend Alath Eturtekkud, the bookkeeper and glassmaker, wandered around with a bucket for almost a week before getting the water out of the aquifer!
Ah, yes, the aquifer, it hangs over my head, an oppressive presence. The cold here is a good thing in regard to that aquifer, allowing us to dig a wide pit to freeze the water of it and dig past it.
I just wish those two miners would finish excavating the temporary storage area, I'm worried about our stockpiles up on top of the snow and ice.
Here comes Alath with the food now, good thing too. I'm famished!