Day 1: Fear and loss
There were Twenty of us until this evening. I hope this log makes it to the outside world, but we remaining seven are lost.
The night fell quickly around us, while we passed through the mountains, and that's where my dream of traveling the world with a merchant caravan became a nightmare.
Our caravan was circling the wagons to rest the horses for the evening, when Dastot heard a cry in the distance. He, and six speardwarves went to scout it out. They were gone for possibly two hours, when one of them returned, bleeding horribly from a mangled arm. He babbled something about demons in the darkness before falling unconscious, into a slumber we all thought he would not awaken from.
It was not a moment later that a mass of bodies came sprinting out of the inky curtain beyond our fire's light. A few at first, then more. Masses of misshapen, stinking creatures flung themselves at our horses and guards. Fear overtook us, and we scattered. Another wave of creatures attacked from behind, and those who ran were slain, mercilessly torn apart by these creatures, who ravaged even the corpses, consumed by primal rage.
The fallen dwarf with the mangled arm awoke, but he did not flee. He tackled the nearest dwarf, and began to bite and claw him. It was then that I knew we were done for. We had walked into a land infested with a zombie plague.
Myself and six others managed to flee with a single wagon, and the two remaining beasts of burden, a horse and a donkey. We rode the wagon hard north, attempting to make it away from the creatures, until we came across a brook, pinning us in. We prayed to Armok to spare us, but the creatures closed in on us near daybreak.
They encircled us, and suddenly dispersed, fleeing the light of the sun creeping above the crest of the mountains in the east.
Nobody spoke the first day, we had three miners, three planters, and a woodcutter. We had no weapons, no trained military dwarves, and no protection from the creatures. The miners began work once they had drunk themselves into enough of a stupor to numb their fears. Lorbam, Lor, and Lokam were their names. The three of them dug into a channel carved into the mountainside by the brook. The rest of us, the three planters, Udib, Mebzuth, and Urdim, and myself, the woodcutter Bomrek set out to pick local fruits and berries, as it was discovered that we had no source of food in the wagon, only a few barrels of booze, an anvil, and the clothes on our back.
It began to grow dark again, and the cries in the distance drew near. Frantically, we unloaded our wagon, and stowed our belongings in the cavern the miners had dug. There was no way to keep the creatures out, and we hoped the brook bordering the entrance would wash our scent away.
Lor did not return after midday. She went to the other side of the brook. One of the planters said he saw her digging a hole straight down. I hope she is alright, but we cannot risk to search for her.
We will begin the search in the morning.