//Here is my attempt
//I hope you enjoy
Spring
Well, we've made it. A barren snow-land, berift of life. Trees are covered in ice and the earth is cold as anything. We've made the first exploratory tunnel and it's raining slime.
One thing I've not worked out is how we're going to get water. Our bookeep fell down a glacier on the way here and I have no idea how many supplies we have on the wagon. Storage has been moved inside, everybody fighting the bitter cold. Trolls are okay. They seem to eat anything. Carpenters shop set up inside too. Luckily the ice on the trees doesn't seem to affect felling them. We'll need plenty of wood for the fire.
I've ordered the first downward heading shaft to be dug. Hopefully we find a pool of water that we can purify. I don't want to dehydrate out here. I've sent all the dw- A message has just come from our exploratory shaft, we've found an expansive cavern system, stretching from one side of the river to the other. I pray for water. What was I saying? Ah yes, I've sent all the dwarfs with nothing to do out foraging for food.
Yes! Water! I am the happiest dwarf. I can go knowing that the mine has a chance at survival in this wilderness. The first exploration pit has been closed off at the surface, it would take too much work to close it off properly at the bottom, so I ordered a wall built around it's entrance on the ground floor. A new tunnel has been built next to the farm. I want it to come down exactly on top of the water and I will build a well so that at last we can drink. Afterwards a pump that reaches up to the ground floor, but first just drinkable water will do.
This slime rain continues. No noticable affect on the men so far. One of the tame trolls has got himself stuck in the old tunnel... I suppose I will have to let him out. They're our only source of --WRITING ILLEGIBLE-- smell!
NOBODY to go outside. I don't understand why you are all so afraid of a harpy corpse.
I've tied up the beak dogs outside. They were distracting. Hopefully they withstand the slime. We spotted some orgre corpses roaming around out there. Can't imagine what it's like to get on the wrong side of those lumbering beasts.
The plans for the well have been laid down and perimeter walls drawn up. The workers are more relaxed. Too relaxed really. They seem to spend all their time just lying around not doing anything at all.
Summer
All this farmer seems to do is complain about a lack of fertilizer. The troll guano is too acidic apparently. I've finally built him a wood furnace and ashery but now nobody wants to go outside to get the wood. At least we have food growing, gathering outside is too scary for the cowards.
One of the beak-dogs died today. He was doing his best to defend and warn us of an approaching ogre. May Arnok rest his soul. I've asked the mechanic to make as many mechanisms as he can with the materials at hand. The other dogs are tied up in the hallway, hopefully safer and more effective as a guard there. The outside is even more dangerous than we thought. I'll have to forbid the use of the wood lying just outdoors for now.
We have dug deep into the earth. Shafts cut in the cardinal directions on a few levels.
Hmm. Today is going off with a few hitches. We recieved word a few days ago that a caravan of migrants was arriving at our lovely safe fort today. At noon a few dwarfs, bleeding profusely, crept over our doorstep. They were just come from a fight with a harpy corpse. Their dogs have just come in- oh it seems one didn't make it before we barred the door. It is still outside being chased by that harpy. I wonder how long it will last. Oh hang about- that's not a harpy, that's a dwarf! It's one of the migrant's dead bodies, possessed by Arnok knows what chasing it's own dear fr- Oh dear. Well I suppose one should never try to outrun a zombie dwarf...
Rest in peace, Ral Lilarerith and Sakzul Unibgesis. Having said that I wonder if peace is correct. It's only 22nd Malachite- let us pray that the autumn brings us peace from these terrors.
Autumn
Hit almost molten rock. This is as far as I dare to dig with our military being what it is, we have all heard stories of the deep dark. Trolls seems really anxious for some reason. I can't figure out why. The zombies are always outside the front door, and our stocks of food and drink are getting lower and lower. I dare not venture outside to build a trading post. I suppose building a metal industry would be the best bet.
Plans have been written. I will create enough space for everybody and build a huge industrial superpower. We need metal to fight these beasts.
Oh god! Who opened the door! I fear it is too late for those outside. I cannot leave us undefended as we are. I must bar the gate. Oh god! To be torn apart by a zombie beak dog! Well, the migrants didn't make it intact.
A lot has happened in the last few weeks. We were haunted by the ghost of a cook. I had to order the slabs to be completed quite forcefully. Something about poltergeists messing with the engraving equipment. Luckily our engraver is a stout old thing and did the job. Oh well. There are lots of dead bodies outside, however we have not the equipment to defend my dwarfs while they go out to collect our dead. Hence the ghosts, hence the impromtu slab engraving. What with all this messing around with the undead I've not had much time to build. At least our seed stocks are holding up for now. I must plan for when we run out of potash- the farmer tells me that he won't be able to replant in that case.
I built a meeting hall and they still want to stand around in the stock pile! I say they're ungrateful. Do none of them have jobs to do? I feel like I'm going mad. Mustn't mention this to the workers, got to show the right spirit.
Snow storm...
Looks like there's been a fight in the caves. Between seven giant Olm men, a giant Olm woman, a cave crocodile and several troglodites. Blood everywhere. Including the Giant Olm, there are eleven creatures we can see. Roaming around the caves and the surface like a swarm of nightmare. Three of them are our own kind, reanimated in a sort of bloody-frenzy-trance.
Food very low. We have plenty of seeds but I have a feeling that our farmer is not making the best use of the crop. I'm ramping up production with a few more fields of helmets. I'll see if that makes the difference.
They're all outside... That means no wood. Which means only two beds. I can't bear sleeping with the workers. I'm meant to be keeping a higher standard for Arnoks sake! Let's see if the winter drives these creatures away. If the spring comes and they're still out side I'm just going to make a break for it over the stream.
The trolls don't seem to be eating. I hope they don't need to graze because if they go outside they will be corpse meat in about five minutes. That's a difficult descision. They are annoying. Roaming around moaning about how much anguish they're in, getting terrified of eating mice and vermin. We all have it tough you know!! I came from the lap of luxury to this hell hole! Well Don't worry in a season we'll have plenty of food and room to move about in and eat! I'm saying that more to myself at this point. The creatures outside barely move away from the door now. All the potash is used up now. We must wait until we can go outside again and gather those logs that are just within reach.
Winter
Raining slime again. I've organised a sing-a-long in the tavern to cheer everybody up. The memorial slabs lining the tavern detract from the mood slightly.
The worst has happened. A troll died in the entrance hall and I can hear the screams from here in the hall. I've ordered walls to be put up, but they come closer and closer. The doors don't work against this troll, I hardly think the walls will but it's the only thing I can do. I will rally the workers into a last militia, the Mechanical Fury. I will lead us all into battle. Eral is still asleep, I won't wake him. If there is nothing more here, this was my last act.
POSTSCRIPT
Eral woke up and had a famous last stand against the corpses of the trolls, his dead relatives and the dogs. Speaking of the dogs, they put up a valiant fight against the monsters. The group of brave pioneers managed to kill one of the beasts before the end. Legend has it that the ghost of Eral still walks the halls to this day. He asks in a plaintive whisper: "Why did they not wake me?"
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Topic: Bookoils - ere the harpies get hungry (fantasiest world, overseers welcome) (Read 1366 times)