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[Makrond]

Arg! Jools beat me!

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 5^th of Obsidian, 1066

"Hunnybunny, are you sure this is the proper stance?"
"Of course I am.  I've been doing this much longer than you have, I'm quite sure I know what I'm doing."
"I was briefly a part of Maester Kuli's honor guard, lest you forget.  We were practicing to defend the fortress!"
"Oh.  I'll never forget that, don't you worry."

Kib stood beside the hastily constructed training dummy she had made up from sacks and straw, a bucket sitting on top for a makeshift head.  Jools was drenched in sweat under his full plate - though Kib noticed he refused to give up that silly sword he found by his door.  Shaking her head, she pointed to the dummy at the shoulder, then drew her finger down to the opposite hip.

"To use a sword, you need to know where to cut.  For maximum effect, on lightly armored attackers, you attack from the shoulder to hip."
"And why do you do that?  Wouldn't it be easier to just... put the pointy end in them?"  Jools tried to prove his point by doing just that, though he began to struggle as the pointy end got stuck on the wood support pole.  Eventually he yanked the sword free, a shower of straw rewarding his motion.

Kib closed her eyes and sighed, "Are you sure you want to do this, dear?  Perhaps your talents would be best used elsewhere."
"No!  After that incident with that snatcher, I... I can't imagine anything happening to our children.  And it won't!  Not under my watch!"

She looked down at their youngest strapped to her chest, his little face already covered in nicks and scratches, then back up at him, confused.  Jools glanced down too, looking taken aback, "Wait, what's this now?  I don't remember him."
"Oh, I gave birth when we were chasing that snatcher."
"You were pregnant?"
"Sure looks like it.  Now quit stalling - back to your training."

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 10^th of Obsidian, 1066

Grov hadn't been seen in weeks.  That was just one of those little misfortunes that occurred out here in the wastes.  There was the requisite amount of mourning, and then everyone moved on.  Ineth Orbsbarb, Mayor, found it was in her best interests if she just held her head down and avoided anything that could get her locked up a second time.  That's why she'd started teaching the children - though her lack of knowledge was staggering, telling stories and morality fables certainly wasn't difficult.

"And you see, Grov chased that little raccoon all through the fortress, and out of the fortress, and down to Bertrand's Gardens.  It was there that the raccoon smashed itself down really small and crawled into a crack in the stone.  Grov, being the curious and ill-kept child, forced himself into the crack in the stone as well."

The children listened in rapt attention, and Ineth couldn't help but smile.  She paused for maximum effect, and continued, "That raccoon turned out to be a demon!  It turned to smoke and rushed past poor grov, sealing up the crack in the stone.  He's been trapped there for weeks now, and will be forever... and that, children, is why you're to always be mindful of elders, and not go chasing things into the wastes."

"THERE'S NO RACCOON I'M RIGHT HERE!"
The children all turned to look at Grov, sitting in the back of the room.  He was dusty, and wearing an old sand-covered bowler, but he was as happy and unaware as ever.  Ineth gaped, stammering for a second, before saying, "That's, that's just great, Grov, go out and play now..."

Grov got to his feet and bounded from the room, laughing and flapping his arms, leaving Ineth to field the uproar in the classroom.  Rounding the hallway, the child almost ran face first into Glacies, stopped only by the book keep swinging an arm out and nearly clotheslining him.  Squinting, swaying on his feet from too much drink, he said hoarsly, "Aren't you dead, kid?"
"HAHA, NO!"

Reaching out, he gave a flick to the brim of Grov's new hat, his rings and bracelets jingling.  "Where'd you steal this?  Have you been breaking into Ber-urp, Bertrands lab?"
"NO!  It was outside in the desert!  There's a bunch of 'em!"
"...what?"
"Ya!  Out in the desert!  Kay, bye!"
"No!  No, wait."  Glacies rocked again, his eyes rolling, and corrected himself, "Okay, no, go, I'm gunna' be sick.  Ya-... ya' want some sweets?  Come show me later where those hats are, and I'll give you a whole barrel of sweet biscuits."   
"Okay!"  Grov said happily, rushing off.  Glacies took a step, then thought better of it, slumping against the wall in the hallway to take his nap.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 17^th of Obsidian, 1066

War'dunell left Eita's room still talking, giving a happy way to Zako. "She's all yours!  Goodness, I'd been in there for so long, I nearly forgot to get lunch!  Tah!"

Squeezing past her in the hallway, Zako gave a brief knock before slipping into Eita's room.  He looked abashed, and quickly took his helmet off, holding it with both hands against his breast plate.  "I'm sorry about not warning you.  It slipped my mind with what Maggarg is putting us through.  Sgt. Pepper has a... a really nasty disposition.  He likes to break new recruits, the bastard."
"Yeah, now you tell me," Eita grumbled, wincing as she readjusted her broken arm in it's sling.  "What's up with that Doctor?  He came down here with a carving knife and a tenderizing hammer."
"Oh, Dojango!  He's a great guy, but he's more a... chef then a doctor."
"Just wonderful..."
"Now now, I know you're mad, but he'll get you fixed right up.  Take my leg for instance," Zako lifted his leg up, propping the boot on the foot of her bed, giving his steel knee brace a tap with his knuckles.  "He rigged this up with Lucy's help.  I can even run with the support; just great work."

Eita nodded, her eyes lifting up from the knee brace to the old, dented armor Zako wore.  She lifted one eye, pointing to the worn sigil on the breastplate.  "What's that?"
"Oh, this?  Well, it seems I picked some wrong armor out of the store room.  An Old Major we had here left it behind, and-" They both jumped as a cry tore through the fortress.

***

Kuli, Vash, and a sword-carrying Jools stormed down the steps towards the workshop levels.  Kuli's face was taut with concentration, his maester's coat flapping behind him as he nearly ran.  The book of Zefon was in one hand, a vial of water from the lake in front of the church in the other.  Pounding down to the crafts workshop, he stepped aside as Jools kicked the door off it's hinges, Vash coming up beside them with a small wooden hatchcover. 

Inside the room, the walls were covered in vomit and blood.  Stoneworker Roughfloor stood on his tip toes near the back, his arms outstretched, seemingly held up by puppeteers strings.  He held a scepter in his hand, his mouth slack, eyes rolled back in his head to display only the whites.  As Maester Kuli stepped inside, Roughfloor's mouth snapped shut, lips curling into a wide mocking smile. 

"Kuulliiii," he said, his words reverberated around the room, a trick of the stone making it sound as if he was speaking with multiple voices.  "You're such a problem.  I would have hoped... you would have died long ago."

"Let me skewer him," Jools said eagerly.  To demonstrate he thrust his sword forward twice.  "I'll kill this demon."
Kuli frowned at Jools, and held the book out in front of him like a shield.  He shook the vial, splashing the water onto Roughfloor.  "Back, fiend!  Announce yourself, and release this Dwarf!  You are NOT welcome in this place!"

Roughfloor shrank back, unearthly shrieks rising from his throat.  "You will be destroyed, you will be over run.  I - Olsmo - will personally rip your head from your tender neck you annoying bug, and then I'll feast on the marrow in your bones"

With a flash of light from Roughfloors eyes, and another spray of vomit, the Stoneworker collapsed to the ground in a heap.  Kuli wiped his forehead with the back his sleeve, and Vash leaned over to ask, "Is he exorcised?"
"Yes... he's fine now, he needs rest, and water."
"What did he make?"

Kuli knelt down and picked the scepter up, looking it over.  "A microline scepter, covered in ash, and spikes of... Rose Gold and Nickle Silver.  It looks like there... yes, there are dwarves slaving away to make this fortress, and... there is a large bat on the top in dread camel bone.  Looks like the handle is wrapped in Donkey Leather."

That evening, Jools had finally calmed down enough to be let out of his room.  Vash still had a knot above his eye from when he had to wrestle his friend away from Maester Kuli, but they made up quickly enough over a few mugs of ale.  Now if only they could get Kuli to speak to them...

[CanadianWolverine]

War'dunell Dakostuzol 17th of Obsidian, 1066

Eita had her arm broken by Sgt. Pepper during training - very impressive! What, am I supposed to pity her poor fortune of being in the way of his weapon? Whatever - what really interests me is that axe of Sgt. Pepper's. Wow. I wonder if he will ever stop being not dead and I could use it one day...

[Heavy Flak]

War'dunell Dakostuzol 17th of Obsidian, 1066

Eita had her arm broken by Sgt. Pepper during training - very impressive! What, am I supposed to pity her poor fortune of being in the way of his weapon? Whatever - what really interests me is that axe of Sgt. Pepper's. Wow. I wonder if he will ever stop being not dead and I could use it one day...

Haha, War'Dunell cracks me right the hell up.  This fortress is so damn weird <3

[Zako]

Diary of Zako:

I just visited Eita in her sick bed, what with her having a broken arm and all and we talked a bit about things in the fortress. The undead among them. Nataurally, it was Sgt. Pepper that broke her arm in the first place.

Damn that monster... I will have to destroy it sooner or later, but I'm still not experienced enough in how to fight these menaces! Good thing is that I now think that I'm adequate in unarmed combat! Now I just need to get used to using a shield, armor and weapons and I'll be set!

Oh and by the way diary, Eita asked what the sigil on my armor meant and I was about to answer her but was interrupted by Kuli exercising another demonic possession. He is quite capable in combating them I think, perhaps I should chat to him about the fortress' wellbeing? And I should finsih my conversation with Eita too. Poor girl...

[Kuli]

From the journal of Kuli Problemwalled,

Alas, my worst fears are realized.  Mr. Roughfloor was possessed by a demonic presence earlier today.  A presence that identified itself as Olsmo.  I never truly believed that the Lord of Death was destroyed, though certainly I had hoped so.

Perhaps most disturbing about Olsmo's appearance is that the demon's hatred is being directed in a specific and personal way.  The Lord of Death addressed me by name and personally threatened my life.  Not only that, but the possessed Roughfloor's use of donkey leather in his foul masterwork seems almost like an intentional insult to Jools.  I can't imagine what Jools could have done to gain the Lord of Death's attention.  I will have to ask him if he has any idea once he has calmed down.

I wish I could say that this news means Migrursut is now in grave danger.  The fact is, our home has been in grave danger since its founding.  Evil seeps in the surrounding wastes, and Olsmo's evil in particular is strong here.  This incident merely serves to remind us of that fact.

Action is needed.  I allowed myself some complacency while there was still hope that the Lord of Death was gone, but no more.  Yet, what action is necessary?  I already know that a hasty, forceful action is doomed to failure.  What Migrursut needs is some defense, some bulwark against the forces of evil.  A bubble of glass and steel will keep out goblins and dread camels, but those are mere physical threats.  The Lord of Death is formless, and no physical barrier can thwart him.  What Migrursut needs is a shield, but a shield of virtue rather than glass, built on a foundation of faith instead of steel.

...I must be careful of my thoughts.  Just now I allowed myself to consider the idea of aggressively converting all dwarves in Migrursut to the worship of Zefon, and purging those who resisted.  Yet even if I thought that I could succeed in such an endeavor (and I highly doubt I could), I must remember that even Zoden Zefon was brought low by the Lord of Death despite being inhabited only by the most faithful of Zefon's children.  I have no doubt that faith, morality, hope, and love can guard us from evil, but much depends on what form those virtues take.  The dwarves of Zoden Zefon shunned their fellow dwarves and isolated themselves.  We must not make the same mistake.  Unity is needed.  The children of Zefon must embrace their brother dwarves if we wish to live.

It sounds too grand to be true, and it probably is.  Zefonist quarrels with Lenodite, faithful conflicts with the faithless, civilian distrusts the soldier, follower despises the leader.  Such is the disunity in Migrursut.  This is not a problem I know how to solve.  I can pray to Zefon for guidance, but ultimately Zefon has put the responsibility of our lives in our own hands.

For now, I will warn anyone who will listen of Olsmo's resurgence.  Every sermon I give will now be on this subject, and I will reach out even to non-believers at every opportunity.  Unity is needed, but unlikely.  Nonetheless I will try.  May Zefon's love be with us all.

[Makrond]

Excerpt from the journals of Makrond, c. 1066

Hey, I found my journal! So much has been going on lately. Grov apparently disappeared into the walls, found a huge pile of hats, and reappeared again. I think there's something wrong with that boy. Maybe he got dropped on his head one too many times.

Someone called Eita got... her? I can never tell... arm broken by Sgt Pepper. Crazy undead.

Oh, and we had another possession. Kuli exorcised it, but he's been looking worried lately. He's been talking about Olsmo a lot lately; from what I can gather, Olsmo is a powerful demon indeed. Äkim protect our fortress and help us to emerge victorious in these difficult times.

Bertrand's been making something in his lab again. I sense complicated happenings in the future.

I hope that perhaps I can train some more, and be ready to protect this fortress, when the need arrives.

[Eita]

A letter to Mother

The Captain was here. I'm sure of it now. I know you still thing that I'm a fool for going after him, but I have to do. Besides, he left me his hammer for a reason. It's saved my life more times then I care to count, I feel like I should at least thank him for that. Anyways, he certainly kept to his traditions. This time he left his breastplate. I found his shield up north, and one of his greaves in the Mountain-Home. He left another hammer and his old helm on a glacier down south. For a moment, I thought he was buried there, but with some digging I saw that it was someone else. The cold kept the man wonderfully preserved. Remarkably, he was fully clothed when I opened his grave, but I quickly fixed that. His armor served me well for a time. I left the Captain's helm and hammer covering the site.

Love, Eita

[Groveller]

Diary of Grov, in crayon, on a wall.

Scribbled on the wall is a poorly designed image of donkeys and hats by Grov. The donkeys are wearing the hats.

[Jools]

From the journal of Jools Machinescalded, Recruit

The path of the warrior is not an easy one, it appears. Though it would be foolish of me to assume otherwise. Kib is showing the patience of a saint as she teaches me the basic forms, and how to strike a practice dummy, but I must admit to being all at sea. While I follow her instructions, I can't help but think that some of them don't make sense - like always striking with the edge of the sword, and never pushing the point into people (from a little further away, which makes it seem a little safer to me). Regardless, I shall follow her commands for now - once I am an experienced warrior, I may experiment on my own, but until I understand more about fighting I must do what others think it best for me to do.

Also I must note that we have been blessed with another little bundle of joy. Kib told me that while chasing one goblin snatcher to retrieve a child, she gave birth to another one. That's frankly rather impressive, giving birth while on the run, engaging in a fight and then carrying two children back to the fortress. Kib's brilliant. Hopefully, though, next time (and I don't doubt there will be a next time, in this blighted and frequently besieged fortress) I will around to assist her. Probably just by carrying a child while Kib chases goblins, but some day I should like to be considered capable of chasing goblins and saving children on my own.

That is likely to not be for a while, though - there is much I must learn. The way of the warrior is not all about learning to swing a sword right, and position a shield just so, to deflect it - one must know how and when to strike, and when to hold back. This was brought most to fore when Maester Kuli called for assistants to deal with a possession - Vash and I heard his call, and joined him as he rushed to the workshops to cast out the demon.

When we arrived, it appeared that Olsmo had once again possessed a worker, this time crafting some demonic scepter. I was all for combating this foul being immediately, heedless of the dwarf that would be harmed by my actions, but fortunately Kuli knew a better way - he forced the demon to name itself, and cast it out with the holy ritual of Zefon, as Vash held it back with a brandished wooden hatch cover. I should learn to control myself better, and be of more use in these situations, rather than thinking that all problems can be solved with a sword.

Only once the demon was gone did we examine the foul artifact it had left behind, and it was of such a monstrous nature, such a hellish creation of UNSPEAKABLE EVIL

<The writing at this point becomes overexcited and illegible for a while, unreadably so, the author apparently so furious that he fails to notice the misshapen letters, the words scored right through the page, and the section where he's somehow managed to use his own blood as ink by accident. The few words that can be made out are generally "EVIL", "DONKEY" and, most frequently found in the section written in blood, "REVENGE">

... I must control myself. What that fiend has done is done, and I can do no more about it. With the demon gone, there is no-one to strike down for this hideous crime. The Lord of Death probably wished to fill me with rage, for some reason unknown to me, and he has succeeded, but I shall not lash out and hurt others as he would wish. No. I cannot forgive this act, but I shall reserve this fury for when it serves *me* to use it. It shall lend strength to my arm as I swing my sword at a goblin, but remain quiet as I go about the fortress. It shall render me capable of withstanding the greatest blow in a fight, and retain the will to rise and continue to fight, yet I shall not be insensitive to other dwarves and their needs. It shall give me wings as I speed into battle, yet not make swifter my urge to punch that smug git Aryn.

Well, maybe not that last bit.

Anyway, this control is something I must learn as I train. I shall go and apologise to Kuli for my actions, and then return to the practice dummy, though Kib is resting now. The eye of the Lord of Death is upon me, and I must make myself stronger and faster to withstand any challenges that I face. For I have not forgiven the harming of a donkey to create that accursed artifact, and I know exactly who did that. Olsmo. Something in my bones tells me that some day, he will come before me, and I must be ready for when that happens.

[Sparrow]

A New Diary of Sparrow the Boltslinger
18 Obsidian 1066

Instead of finding the old one, I started the new one.

Many rumors circulating around this fortress lately.
Firstly, Sgt.Pepper injured another recruit. Eita, was it? Well yeah, Sarge broke her arm. Dojango should work on it. Them undead thinking they own this place. But still, I have to be careful. I am not strong enough to challenge them yet, and I don't want to lay in bed with a broken limb or two.
Secondly, Grov kid, who has been 'buried', is alive and well with a lot of hats to boot. When he was all that time no one will never know. Power of stupidity I guess.
And thirldly, Kuli exorcised the demon Olsmo from poor stonecrafter. Though in possesion, he made a artifact. It is of not bad quality with a few decorations and a donkey leather handle. Yes, donkey leather. You can guess what happened to zookeeper after he saw it.

[Heavy Flak]

The events of the 23^rd of Obsidian, 1066

The children gathered around Mayor Ineth on their little mats, their faces bright and eager for story time.  She had a good one worked up this time, and she leaned forward in her seat, her voice lowering just a bit for ambiance. 

"Once upon a time, Children, there was a child named Grov.  Grov wouldn't listen to the warnings of his elders, and he did things no child should.  He played in the weapon store rooms, and he played near the Leopard Pen, and he played at the cinnabar construction site, running underfoot of Captain Fillwhip-" The children all gasped, suitably horrified.  Mayor Ineth smiled, and continued, "-something you should NEVER do.  But Grov did one thing even worse than all of that.  He liked to play on Sgt. Pepper's executioners plank.
"The haulers were doing there job very poorly, and instead of being careful they dumped rotten tallow all over the bridge instead of down into the magma.  But that's a morality tale for another day.  Grov, running as fast as he could to the bridge to play, slipped on the tallow and slid off the edge - laughing and waving his hands all, all, all the way down into the magma.  Where he was burned alive. 
"And that is the moral of todays story: Always listen to your elders, because you could die in a fire if you don't."

"YAaaay!  THAT WAS A GREAT STORY!"

One of the children screamed, and another passed out, all eyes turning to look at the noticably un-burned Grov sitting on a mat at the back of the room, three bowlers stacked on his head.  As Mayor Ineth gaped at him, he stood up and waved, shouting happily, "Kay, I'm gunna' leave now!  Bye!"

Darting from the room, Grov was nearly clotheslined as he rounded the corner by a distraught Glacies.  Behind him came the book keeps newest assisstant, Lugnut, who looked quite uncomfortably.  Glacies scowled at Grov, wagging a finger in front of his face - pulling it back before it was bitten.  "Whatt'er ya' doin', boyo?  I told you to stay in that room!  Don't you wanna help ol' Uncle Glacies entertain everyone in this damn fortress?"
"Uh huh, but it was booooring in there."
"How was it boring?  You had Lugnut here to play with!"

"Glacies, man, like, I know you're paying me and all... but I can't babysit this kid and build this thing.  Did you even look at the blueprints you gave me?  Where did you get them?"
"From Bertrand's workshop, I don't care if they're hard to follow, just do it exactly like it says in the plans."
"You're making me an accomplice to theft."
"I'm makin' you a well fed accomplice t'theft.  What was it you were doing again, before I started throwing money at you?"
"...Sitting in the mess hall and watching people eat, 'cause Aryn won't feed me if I can't pay."
"That's right.  Now what, you want some more coin?  I'll give you ten extra a day, but just keep this kid locked up until it's done.  You got it?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it... c'mon, Grov, let's go get a drink."
"Yaaay!"

[Heavy Flak]

From the files of Aryn Estetar
1^st of Granite, 1067

Everything is coming along according to plan.  Writing that makes me quite nervous that I might jinx myself, but for once, really, for once, things seem to be going my way.  Of course there are the requisite hurdles: there are the Dwarves that refuse to work, the deaths, the seiges, the merchants trying to con us, and of course the ever-popular current of dissatisfaction and uprising brought on by inhabitants too stupid to understand if it wasn't by my hand, they'd be living in a dank cave hunted by corpses, if they weren't already one themselves. 

The last two layers of flooring still need to be dropped before Howard can begin his constructions, which is fine because there are quite a few units of ore and gem that need to be captured and cataloged.  Glacies has been incredibly surly lately, and his work is slipping.  Perhaps I'll suggest he take a nap, or stop wearing so much damned jewelery, I can hear him walking from a mile away with the way it clanks, it must weigh him down something terrible.

Today in the mess hall I saw something horrendous.    Though reanimated, the reborn trio still eat our food and drink our wine; it must take a lot to keep the fires burning inside their rotted bodies.  Sgt. Pepper and Valania eat in the mess, but Likot still holds to her tradition of eating consuming food she's prepared herself, and drink brewed in her room.  That bitch Archin came into the mess too, but instead of sitting with the miners - or the growers - she came and sat down with Likot's crew.  And began to hold Sgt. Pepper's large fist in her own, batting her eyes at him like some tarted up whore.  The scene was enough to nearly make me vomit, what is wrong with her?  I can only imagine this is yet another way she's trying to punish me.  Perhaps an accident can be arranged now that her singular skill has become obsolete. 

Stocks and Such:
Population: 140
Wealth: 3,585,414monies
Jail: Currently Empty
Unmet Mandates: Lay Pewter Items for the Duke's idiot wife.  Doesn't she realize we have no lay pewter in this area?  Kuli will most likely take the fall for this, which is fine by me.
Current Floor Plans: Updated