Hsark’s diary, 30th of Galena
The same nightmare again. All around me “Forgotten” dwarfs tantrum and murder each other with savage cruelty, while the remaining sane ones hide to survive. Normally I wouldn’t put much stock in dreams, but it felt so vividly real… almost as if it was a vision of the past. Or of the future?
More bodies to work the forges and mines. Azira, a friend of mine, was among the pack. Knowing she’s quite the capable lass, I sent her straight to the barracks.
Hsark’s diary, 13th of Limestone
Humans have come. They brought a shitload of stuff, which they undoubtedly want to trade for gold and gems. Good luck with that!
Their leader warned me that some border towns have been burned and that there are probably deep goblins on the prowl close by. He’ll be safe here, with the vault of the mountain to cover his head.
Speaking of the buggers.
They came hard and fast, just behind the caravan, a haughty elf leading the charge. Green Menace seems to refer both to cowardly goblin-scum and leave fondling frolickers! Luckily their archers missed Zulban, who was daydreaming on the bridge.
They enjoyed the welcoming embrace of our serrated disc traps. And so did the next batch. An elf led this squad too, an elf swordsman this time. Or a swordelf. Whatever. They also died.
By Ordir’s buttocks! While the goblins were dismembered into hauling-convenient chunks, their sneaky accomplices kidnapped a child! The dark elf masters must want flesh for unspeakable rituals! Erib’s mother was inconsolable.
(Funfact – DF elves eat other sentients they kill. How’s that for pansy tree worshippers?)
Hsark’s diary, 19th of Limestone
We’ve briely finished cleaning up the goblins and already another threat is here. I swear, it’s like monsters are drawn to this place.
Dwarf engineering dealt with her nicely. You’d think a creature hundreds of years old would have more sense of preservation than to run straight into the entrance of a dwarf fort.
Hsark’s diary, 21st of Limestone
The Minotaur carried a big backpack with ill begotten gains. In between trash and baubles I found a worn old book titled the Negronomicon, written by the Urist McThule the dwarf. Never heard of him. I was about to give it to Kalin for safekeeping, when Oden Ingtakavuz, some nondescript bugger, offered to trade it for a few favors.
Well, whaddaya know, suddenly Mafol Emuthnish is elected mayor, how convenient. I wonder who her husband is?
That’s right! Can’t take the position myself of course, that would look bad, but I solved that problem well, didn’t I diary? No one could possibly suspect anything.
Yes, this is all a coincidence. P. cool nonetheless.
Hsark’s diary, 15th of Sandstone
A big dwarf caravan from The Green Standards was supposed to deliver metal, food and (most importantly) booze.
I’m saying “was supposed to” because deep goblins disagreed.
Trying to buy time for their wagon buddies, the caravan guard fought a desperate rear guard action. Unfortunately their opponents weren’t only deep goblins.
Rippling masses of tentacles and gaping, teeth brimming maws descended on the dwarfs. And there was nothing we could do to help them, only watch.
Although the dwarf guards cut pieces and chunks off the Prisoners of Ice, the latter didn’t even seem to care.
(The pale gray chunks are prisoner of ice parts.) Soon the rear guard was a broken, bloody mess.
The traders scattered, and were cut down too. Sole survivor was the liaison who ran straight into the fort without waiting for his comrades. I don’t blame him. I’d have done the same if I had to face to those monsters.
Why are they even called Prisoners of Ice? They sure don’t look like prisoners to me. I wish they were, because then we might not have them at our doorstep.
Hsark’s diary, 16th of Sandstone
With the last traders dead, the goblins have made their way to our entrance. I’ve ordered everyone inside. Too many dwarfs are already dead.
Sorry whoever built the bridges, I was going to modernize the setup a bit and then this stupid siege happened.
Goblins our militia might be able to handle, but I’m not about to face one of those mutated blobs of tentacles (oh god it’s HEAVAN)! The masons will wall us in. THAT’S RIGHT FUCKING BLOBS, YOU WON’T GET A TASTE OF THIS DWARF.
But we need more time! JagreenLern and her Turquoise Pets have volunteered to hold back the goblins in a desperate attempt to keep the masons safe. “Comrade, this is for the good of the people. How could I shy away from such an honorable death?” JagreenLern said, and grabbed her crossbow. I tried to talk her out of it, but deep inside I knew this is the only way.
FOR VIRGINTRADED! Maybe I should have grabbed my trusty axe and joined in. But who would lead us then? My wife?!
Their sacrifice was not in vain! I just got word that the entrance is sealed!
Now all I can do is listen to the muffled sounds of fighting, waiting for the inevitable conclusion.
Fuck off! I don’t have time to talk trade now. Stupid liaison.
The Turquoise Pets held on longer than any would have dared to hope, and even managed to drive away the first goblin wave.
(Only one out of six died, but JagreenLern was completely mashed up and all the others were wounded.)
As the Prisoners of Ice gathered, only Morul and Nish remained.
Can they kill at least one???
They fought a glorious last stand. Dwarf bards will sing drunken songs in their memories! The sacrifice of the Turquoise pets will not be forgotten. I have ordered walls to be engraved throughout Virgintraded.
Silence now reigns in the frozen wastes. Without dwarfs left in reach, the Prisoners of Ice and their minions have taken to besieging us.