I'm having trouble here. After the siege happened, I just can't keep my head cool or level anymore. I'm all that's left of the original core team, most of the survivors are incapacitated, and I feel like crap. I'm beyond miserable, and the only thing that can maybe help me get in a better mood would be a new team of migrants to come along. Oh, and I forgot one other detail. It seems we're out of booze. ... --==-=-=----=-=~~~
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Sorry about the message being sent in 2 pieces; my anger had the best of me. Catten has lost his mind and stripped down to nothing, and thinks nothing of it. I wouldn't mind it as much, had he not been wearing the blood of our comrades and become a babbling fool. I'm too delirious to knock sense into him. If we only had more hands, I could get everything back in order, but I don't even count on that likely happening. *sigh*
If Armok was really pleased about the blood let before, he'd be willing to send more vessels our way. By his fist, we shall rise up.
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Happy CARPING New Year. I'd raise up my glass in celebration, but most of our mugs are broken amidst the corpses, and it would be in bad taste to use the skull of a fallen comrade; but most of all, what IS there to drink? Aside muddy water?
Springtime has been a minor improvement. Catten is still naked and clothed in dried blood; essentially, He's useless to us; however, some of us have gotten a little more levelheaded, and decided the best way to work around our issues is to focus solely on the tasks at hand, and keep ourselves occupied without having anyone out of order dying on us.
The original plans that were made to beef our defenses up have been slowly coming into fruition, despite the lack of hands. Whenever any of us has the free time, we're going to take turns crafting mugs, since our resident crafter is a little off-kilter (if you catch my drift). Anyway, we're making progress balancing things out. We'll just leave the bones out since the flesh has rotted off, and our nose-hairs are scorched off anyway; let's just leave that for the poor fools that have the balls to come in.
Heh, what do you know? Elves... CARPING bad luck Elves. I'll be shocked beyond reason if we don't get mercilessly killed because those tree-humping goblin lures decided it was a good idea to come to our fort. They better damn well have some booze and maybe some defensive animals to help us out, or by the fist of Armok; their blood will be the varnish for our hull.
...Scratch that; well an ambush team with a human took care of that. Hoo boy. I really don't count on any migrants coming anytime soon if this keeps up. You know what. Screw it. I heard Catten's scream echo throughout the fortress. Despite a case of madness, he's snapped into place enough to shout a warning of another ambush. If this message reaches you; by Armok, I caution your next troupe, be weary of stragglers hanging out within our... fine quarters.
I believe it's as good a time as any. I'm hiding all my plans, a legend, and how everything must work together. Everything will be hidden within the quern inside the Farmer's workshop. If I remember how heavy that sucker is, No goblin would dare attempt to haul it across the terrain; as for the ship itself, thank goodness we got the framework taken care of. Let's not forget, that thing is built to last. I don't think the goblins would have the balls to tear down such an opportune spot to strike from, as well as dare damage such elegant dwarven engineering. Especially when they come across the nameplate, and how far we've gotten despite interference. They know that'll be continued, even if it's the last thing we do.
Zas... *sob* a mere child, has died. I know that scream of pain. I've been hearing cries of death and pain from our animals as well. I know it'll be our end soon enough. I have an idea though, Armok willing it will have a chance to work. I'm going to stand ground near our traps, and head for the Bloodfist, hopefully tearing the goblins to shreds in the process. I might as well take some of those bastards down with me before I die. Our last stand will be aboard the ship. If it ever gets finished, let my spirit, along with Catten and Kogan watch over those who fly it.
Catten... that naked psychopath has just gotten really level-headed, it's got me a little freaked out. Is he in a trance? He's... Catten, You crazy sonovabitch... Where-- If that crazy bastard returns alive wearing the skins of our trespassers, I will bow to him like a messiah. ...Damn! Heading for the Bloodfist, I saw his corpse. DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN!!!!!! In my fleeting moments before I die; I send to you my eyes and what I can crudely make to give you a good understanding of the situation. Tell Fikod that had things gone better, I would have had a ring crafted for her as a trinket of our time together in the past (before this Armok-forsaken project). This bird can teach you much that you need to know, as well as Zas's toy ship, if you can find it. Aside my instructions, schematics, and etc. Find those objects, and you should be able to continue with haste.
I bid you adieu, and I hope to Armok a carp will chew on your soul for eternity for not sending proper soldiers our way.
With dismay and demise,
--Foreman, "Cid" Kalrethdakost
My Final StandPS- Alas, I am somehow still alive enough to add one last note. I wasn't able to reach our ship in time, but I understand what took hold of Catten. My gods, what a rush; those 3 goblins didn't have a chance, although one took a lucky shot and damaged my spine pretty bad. I don't know if I can get back up, but damn, I can die happy now. I got my revenge, though I now feel unbelievably lonely now. Hah; and it looks as though one has passed out from the excitement. If I get back up before him... Ho, that bastard will be my new mantlepiece.
I'm taking my leftover time to add final details as I bleed my last energy. Behold what I have left to see.
PPS- Oh yeah; I was able to walk still, apparently, for what it was worth. Here's the details of what I would call Armok's apparently merciful side:
As I was starting to fleet away, I saw that fiend wake up again, I mustered up what energy I had left to stumble away from him. He took some swings, and eventually gave into pain and passed out as I was blocking with my broken arm, so I could get a good shot in with my good arm. I hit him square in the forehead, and he collapsed like the weight of his armor; with my last moments before passing out, I stomped on his helmet after I poked through his eyes with my fingers. I wake back up alive. I'll find more proper quarters to recover in and try to live on my own. If I die, the bird knows what to do. The coast looks clear for the time being. I'm taking a rest. But I suspect there may be more coming. The guys we took on were at the back door, many came through the front, if memory serves correctly. I'll try to be ready for them. For once, in ages, I feel fine. ...I hear th---