Mid-Autumn 2nd year.
Before the first wave of migrants manage to starve themselves waiting for permission to enter the fort, another wave comes. A whole new Economy is being built off of their stubbornness as a thief makes off with a (Giant cave spider silk shoe.) The magma outlet tunnel is being dug now in the deepest part of the mountain. Bauxite mechanisms, floodgates, grates and hatch covers stand at the ready.
At the fort entrance, our guards stand on defense in leather armor wooden shields and obsidian short swords. They watch the humans who are under quarantine. Knowing their fate if they try to leave they sit impatiently, some have been reduced to babbling idiots and all in all they just stink up the place.
Punishment has been promised for our continual detainment of the human traders.
The dwarven caravan had arrived a month or two ago, and was immediately attacked by a raging fishery worker, so they decided it was best to move on to a more profitable location.
Tulon Sedillor, Hunter cancels Hunt: Hunting vermin for food.
The Irony astounds me.
Mid-Winter 2nd Year.
The Human situation has taken a big turn. The Diplomat - unable to leave - has turned melancholy and seems to be starving himself to death in protest.
The dwarfs on the outside starve and die of thirst while others manage to scavenge what scraps the hills offer to survive. I witnessed a dwarf go berserk next to one of the few available ponds. They beat each other to within an inch of their life and lie mangled next to the pond, dieing of thirst.
But one dwarf, along the mountain ridge, starving, his clothing rags and tatters. With his puppy in tow yelled a maniacal cry that reached the fortress.
Moments later he was reported to have tore a peasant apart with his bear hands.
Inside the fortress the magma outlet chamber is nearing completion. Linking the Floodgates to the levers will allow us to begin the drainage of the pipe.