Journal of Overseer Creiydrek Yearrings, Excerpts
FelsiteA new mayor was elected, and I took the chance to speak with her today. She's a likable young lass.
She's a former member of the Earthen Gloves, and she has a taste for giant spider meat, so kudos to her. The only complaint I have is her demand that we switch to ranged weapons. Nobody's using crossbows, I told her, but she was adamant that I provide at least one new quiver to prove that I'm considering the request. There's just no getting through to some folks. At any rate, the talk turned to the state of the fortress (ha!) and her new mayoral accommodations, which will be ready as soon as all the bodies are removed.
Taking a short but well-earned break from my duties, I spent a few hours earlier taking stock of the local artwork. Here are a few of the finer examples.
This beast is pictured all over the fort, for some reason. Whatever this creature did to the world really impressed us.
Celebrations of Sigun are also common.
Such items may be the only thing keeping her from snapping, come to think on it.
Most of the engravings and statues around are of mundane events and political seals, and some represent unpleasant things from our past. Usually I see such images as a reminder of dwarven integrity, but if you ask me, that stuff has no business being in the hospital.
As our comrades died of thirst they got to gaze upon gorgeous statues of dwarves dying of thirst.
The floor engravings are hardly better.
I've kept the couple engravers we have from drawing pictures just yet. I mean, we're trying to forget recent events, not commemorate them.
Speaking of the hospital, Babysaver Oddom informed me that the place was once a series of upper-class homes for the local gentry. That certainly explains the opulence. And here I was thinking we cared about our wounded, how silly of me.
In contrast, the former hospital is a blighted, ash-filled mess, destroyed during the rampage of Uker Filthspit just a few months ago. I've turned it into a furniture stockpile.
On my way back from visiting the few wounded who yet lived, I watched one of the psychotic locals walk past me, vomit neatly into a bucket, and walk away without offering so much as a look.
8th Felsite
Matuin's been missing for a week now. I hope she's okay.
12th FelsiteWe initiated the plan to free the two trapped miners from the Arena. The first step involves going back inside the place, and no one volunteered for that, so I gently persuaded two children and the idiot bookkeeper. This way, if something goes wrong we won't lose anyone useful.
The device is ready. Here goes nothing.
The dust cloud was immense. But did it work?
17th FelsiteOne of the lookouts spotted the elven caravan on the horizon. We desperately need their supplies, so for the first time in months, we unlocked the entrance.
While I was visiting her in the absurdly lavish hospital, Kol the Swordsmistress told me in confidence that Kubuk's parents were eaten by elves before his very eyes, back when he was a child. Kol warned me not to let him near the traders during this time of strife. I took heed and told him to perform some basic training maneuvers for the duration of their stay.
The elves were first greeted by Erib Tomecatch, a mad woodcrafter who ran outside the moment we lowered the gate. After shouting obscenities at our visitors, he screamed away from the fortress in what must be hailed as an act of profound sensibility. I don't expect any grief about locking him out there. As soon as the merchants were in, it was done.
The local unlife showed no interest in either the elves or our momentarily-open gate. It may only be my imagination, but I think they are instinctively scared of us.
The elves entered into an eerily quiet hall in a fortress once teeming with business. They prove to be a shockingly decent bunch when we finally meet them, though for some reason they felt obliged to point out how badly we needed their help. As if I didn't know already, but at least they didn't see the Room of Mephitis or they would have run for the hills like old Erib did.
The Room of MephitisTheir leader Aweme is a delightful lass with the fairest blonde hair I'd ever seen. If she weren't an elf, I would gladly take her to dinner and bed. She told me a flowery tale of a battle her kind fought with goblins over four hundred years ago. It was really quite fascinating. After an hour or so of such pleasantries, I managed to trade off some of our extra mechanisms for a respectable quantity of food, booze, and wood. This has been a fine day for Dwarf-Elf relations.
NO KUBUK DON'T
Well, dinner's now out of the question.
As the children and I looked on in horror, Kubuk stormed into the Trade Depot brandishing his axe and bisected every last elf in sight, providing our Trade Depot with a muddy red coat of fresh paint. By an amazing stroke of luck, this appears to have been a momentary lapse of reason in lieu of a permanent one. He trudged off silently after it was all over, and once the initial shock wore off, I told the Peasant nearby to take the elf bits outside and start butchering the warthogs. Everything else in the caravan is ours now. As if we had a use for a dozen wooden swords.
Oh, good, the mayor's approaching. Pray thee, lass, what new horrors await my ears?
She's dead?! I just spoke to her a few days ago! She only went in there for a fractured rib! All Meng had to do was bring her some water and the Slayer of Uker would still be alive! The fact that she was beautiful has everything to do with my outrage!
It's not like we don't have any damn water!
What in the nineteen hells is more important to him than taking care of his patients!?
You son of a bitch.25th FelsiteNo one has seen Matuin the entire month. I'm heading to the stock room to drop off a shield, so while I'm there I think I'll grab a pick and go down to the new wing she's been digging to find out if she's still alive.
This seems like a good time to mention that I've been completely naked since the beginning of the week. Well, not completely naked, mind you. I need the boot so my foot won't fall off! Ha-hee-hee-hee-haw!
Anyways the boot fell off, so I dug most nudely toward Matuin's last known whereabouts.
At least, I did for a while.
Digging is hard! I told the ex-soldier Fikod Boatscarnage to finish for me. He was just hauling trash around anyway.
I won't even comment on the poetic genius of his title. He went down with the pick in my stead, giving me a reproachful look as he left. What? I'm not the only one trying life without clothes. At least I can still speak proper Dwarvish, unlike some of the other specimens.
In the past month many of the insane dwarves and half of the wounded have died. Three infants perished as well, all of 'em from of lack of drink. I dunno why nobody fed them. I guess we each thought someone else was doing it. There are only thirty-four of us left now. On the bright side of it, a delicious cat has become a stray.
To end the month on a happy note for a change, Fikod discovered Matuin was hunting rats for food, half-starved to death, but alive all the same. Turns out she mined away the original entryway, and by the time she realized her mistake she was too weak from hunger to lift her pick and carve a new way out. Right. Whatever her reasoning, I think we're all glad she is safe.
Poor lass has gone off to get a drink now. With her disappearance off my mind, I can rest easier and concentrate on preparing the new area for habitation. Things are looking up now.
Our doctor sickens me.
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