Housekeeping

Excerpts from the book of Erith, 22;24

20th moonstone, 1054

It is good to take comfort in small things, and focus on what joy our life permits us.  It has been many months since I lost the use of my left arm, and i must bury myself constantly in work that takes twice as long now for me to complete, lest I find myself consumed by a foul melancholy.  The lines between frustration and madness are hair thin in my people.  I wonder, if I find myself sinking into the bleakness or the red rage, will I notice? Armok knows, and in him I must put my faith.

And so I focus on the small wonders, today is a good day,  and there is much to be thankful for. Not the smallest of the blessings is the wonderful strawberry wine and dwarven ale which is piled in great oak and maple casks, and also the barrels and barrels of good dwarven plump helmet and sweet pods.  Even the lowliest of dwarves here in Edem Rimtar now eats and drinks like a king, this has done a great deal to lessen the tensions that have so plagued us as of late.

An election was held (it was made apparent to the faithful that it would be held with or without us) and we have created for ourselves a tiny but functional bureaucracy, and a lively meeting of the firth is held every old moon.  The day of the vote ,  every dwarf in the warren turned out.  The mood was grim and many a hand rested on weapons and looked on the proceedings warily, eyes alert for signs of tampering. Not trusting any of our own, both factions agreed to have the counting of votes done by the trade liason, in hopes that the word of an impartial observer might lend some legitimacy to the results. After all the rune-inscribed copper tags had been tallied, the results pleased no one and angered many.  Despite our being severely outdwarved at the ballot boxes we managed, strangely, to elect one of our own, as mayor.

Nish Amolin is indeed a believer and worshiper of Armok, but he is not well liked by either Urdim or myself, for the spirit of compromise runs deep within him, and he would rather let the heathens worship whatever god they choose, then convert them with lash and sword, as is only right.  It seems that most of the members of the warren voted for themselves greedily, and it was only Nish who had the foresight to bribe and flatter enough dwarves to carry the day.  Despite my initial misgivings, I find that Nish is receptive to my plans for the ordering of the fortress, and quite good at adjudicating the needs of many different interests.  With his help, much work has been coordinated and completed. The wooden palisade and upper wall were completed, with a quartzite roof added in case of attack by fire and upon its peak, six statues carved of cinnibar sparkle deep burgundy in the setting sun.  Some ramparts were carved out of the east facing wall overlooking the valley below, and the calls of the watchdwarves can be heard at all hours, day or night, much to the comfort of everyone.  A great storeroom has been dug out and cleared in the stone below our original scrape, along with a new kitchen, and several new workshops, relocated to be closer to the stores. The clearing of the massive piles of rough stone and ore was a back breaking affair and everyone in the warren helped. The work started out gloomily as enemies and rivals labored along side eachother in silence, but by the end of the weeks work, everydwarf was singing their bawdy songs and laughing, perhaps aided by the wonderful strawberry wine fresh out of fermentation.  Upon completion, a loud and boisterous feast was thrown, and so lavish were the servings of roasted bull, baked sweetpod and turtle stew, that even Urdim herself was coaxed out of her quarters to eat and sing with the rest of the dwarves.

The newly completed storeroom.

Teams of treefellers and wood haulers work constantly day in and day out clearing the slopes downhill of our warren of the many deciduous trees that grow thickly, and our storeroom bulges now with maple, oak, alder and ash, all trimmed and split to near perfection by zuglar.

A makeshift forge and kiln have been set up in a special chamber off the old peasants rooms. Some of the more seasoned wood is burned in a large clay furnace till the fire is raging, then the kiln is sealed off completely, and through some magic of the gods, when the fire dies down, the wood is transformed into highly prized charcoal, without which any smelting of the ores we find here becomes impossible.  Hope is high that  our delveing may yet uncover some magma, but untill such a time we are forced to use the wood of the hills for this sacred work.  Tirist Ledkeshon, a skilled migrant metalsmith has begun smelting some quality silver and bronze bars, and crafting some decent arms, for the militia, and chains for much needed wells.

In the south wall of the storeroom a large tunnel has been breached in the blue microcline, it has been constructed in such a way that any beast or dwarf must pass single file over a narrow stone bridge protruding over a deep trench, much the same as the design of our gates. Behind this bottleneck we have constructed a ballista out of wood, with copper and silver arrow heads as big as a child, and placed the clever contraption behind good solid stone ramparts. This tunnel is not to lead above ground, but will lead to our deepest delving, and as such it needs to be well defended; everydwarf has heard tell of the old and fell creatures that lie waiting in the depths, we dare not leave ourselves undefended against such danger.

Storeroom, ballista and bridge visible lower left.

With only a handful of years till the start of our great undertaking, much is yet to done, but much has been accomplished, and I am optimistic about the progress we have made so far, healing old wounds through common labor.  I have my final plans drafted, and next firth I shall present them for consideration, I am sure there will be little opposition to the construction, as the beauty and scale of Urdims vision is impossible to deny.

Lodestones Notes

While I’m trying to work out a bug where my bonesetter won’t come set Erith’s Arm, this seems like a good point for me to step back and fill you all in on whats going on with my little peatry dish. It’s been quiet a challenge keeping up with the plot, as my dwarves throw me curveball after curveball, I generally play through 6 months at a time, furiously taking screenshots and scribbling down notes about who is murdering who, and so so forth(Which slows down the gameplay to a crawl) then I go back through my notes, decide whats worth writing about, and go at it.  Some things inevitably fall through the cracks.

Which is for the best really, noone wants to hear about a wardogs epic 2 month battle with a fox, or that my one hunter is completely inept and hasn’t hit a single animal in almost 40 shots, so I try to distill it down to what I think will be interesting. If I can get my dwarves to stop killing each other this year (no mean feat) , they actually might accomplish something worth writing about. Time will tell.

I chose a completely random world, and a completely random location in it. This has turned out to be a rather dull way to go. If any of you are wondering why I have yet to be attacked by hordes of goblins, it would seem that the only goblins in the world I generated, ended up on the complete other side of the map, and on the other side of an ocean to boot.  It looks like to have any real “fun” in this game I am going to have to either delve really deep, or try to pick a fight with the humans and dwarves.

The dwarves might be starting this in 3 years:

I say “might” because its entirely possible that they will all murder each other first, we will see. If they make it that far, I am still deciding whether to dig up or down first, down seems more “dwarvish” to me, and it has more possibilities for shananagins if I encounter the odd forgotten beast in the depths.

The one thing I really and truly regret about my embark location, is that the space is very small, forcing me to be very mizerly with my digging and stone use, it may turn out for the best though, as my fortress increases in population and the strain on my PC increases. I had to scale my origional 120 tile wide tower design down to roughly 42 tiles wide, otherwise the tower would have looked ludicrous in the small space. I don’t know of any way to increase the map size once the game begins, so until I find out how, it is what it is.

Thanks for reading! More Delve coming soon.

Aftermath.

Excerpts from the book of Erith, 22;24

15th Malacite, 1054

Much time has passed since I last had time to record the events of Edem Rimtar,  and there are many things I do not know. I will try to recount all I can before I slip once more into troubled dreams. I have to rely on the counsels of Adil to fill in the holes in my knowledge, for it seems that I have spent the last four months flat on my back unconscious in the infirmary.  There is little I remember about the accident, just a few hazy memories, but Adil tells me that a giant tree fell through the storeroom ceiling, crushing three dwarves, and nearly killing me.  My left forearm, Adil tells me snapped like a twig and even now four months later it throbs with a pain which threatens to overwhelm me completely. Inquiring why it has not healed, I was informed that the only bonesetter in the camp refused to heal my injury, and as a result, Adil has personally had to re-break my arm several times while I lay asleep, so the bone would not heal at an odd angle and leave me a cripple, for this I am eternally grateful to him. He has been a great comfort to me these past days, reading to me as I sweat through my frequent fevers, and comforting me with kind words, he is a fine and noble dwarf, and will no doubt make a worthy husband.

Strange to me at first, was the fact that though I have been awake for many days now and word surely has spread throughout the warren, I have yet to receive a visit from Urdim. Adil explained to me that Urdim is extremely displeased with me, for it was through my negligence as chief architect that the accident was allowed to happen, and also by my negligence that Muthkat, one of the six chosen by Armok himself, was slain by a jagged branch which stabbed through the storeroom roof, killing him instantly.  I cannot blame her, I deserve her ire. I have failed in my duties! My failure is far more grave than just the loss of a friend and peer, however. Using the death of one of the chosen as proof of the impotence of our god, we have lost our tenuous hold on the hearts and minds of the unbelievers, and in so doing they no longer respect our word as law, we are forced to live in the same vile conditions we faced in Fallstanford warren! The rabble, led by the treacherous, backstabbing heathen Kubuk, have gone so far as to form their own firth, and now are pushing to elect for us a mayor, as if the word of the prophet of Armok is not enough.  They even took the bodies of the two dwarves killed alongside Muthkat and entombed them in cinnibar coffins, denying Armok his rightful feast.

Things hang a beardhair away from chaos, and anarchy here, the military under the loyal and pious Cerol, remain true to Armok and Urdim, thank the stone, so we still hold a monopoly on force, but it is fragile as we are outnumbered gravely. Immigrant settlers from a far away dwarvenhold arrived some time ago and although some were touched by the voice of Armok, the majority, loath to give up their native gods, immediately fell in with the lax discipline and hedonism of the heathen sect. We are but 20 believers, armed well, but surrounded by 62 unbelievers. The situation will become grim indeed soon, as we cannot stop them now from crafting their own wares in the now open-to-all workshops, and using them to trade with the caravans for weapons and tools.  It is clear to me now that only way we can hope to find the labor needed to construct the grand monument to our god, is to compromise with these others, mandates and coercion will not work any longer.

As soon as I am able to walk and speak correctly, I will go to Urdim to beg forgiveness, and ask that we take this new middle path towards the glory of Armok. If things come to direct vote, we may still hold the majority, since I can see already that the others are divided into small factions and rivalries. There may be hope yet of electing a mayor sympathetic to our holy cause.

On a more practical note, we have managed to aquire some good dwarven seed from a trader, and we now have planted and harvest the first crops, an activity that everyone agrees is too important for our survival to squabble over. It was a good harvest, and our food stocks are filling, albeit slowly with 82 mouths to feed.

Everyone can agree on some things

I have instructed Adil to do a survey of the workspaces and storerooms, and will soon start streamlining out production by sorting out the now cluttered and haphazard stacks of barrels and goods into something approaching order. I have also begun drafting plans for a new guardhouse to be built over top of the wooden palisade now adorning our eastern gate. I remain hopeful that all dwarves here will recognize my vast knowledge and experience in drafting plans for such projects, and see the logic in stout defenses in a dangerous world. I must rest now, writing with my right hand is taxing on me and I fear the strain has worn me out.

Backlash

Excerpted from: Trials of the Apostate

I have been granted a stay of execution, it would appear. It seems clear to me now that Urdim planned on having the much larger Led kill me, then finishing off what was left of him. Two rats with one stone, so to speak. Having foiled her plans by surviving, she had no choice but to grant me what she promised publicly; the blessing of her god.  I am sure now, that Urdim is no prophet to a god, for what god would be so capricious and petty to concern themselves with the lives of such a insignificant and cruel dwarf as she?  No, I suspect that Urdim is simply one of those greedy and ambitious creatures who have throughout history, used religion as a means to further themselves, playing off peoples fears of death and the unknown.

Claiming one of their otherworldly mandates from their god as law, the six decreed that no dwarf was to touch the bloated, decomposing body of led until Armok had “feasted,” and only when his bones alone remained are we allowed to grant poor Led a proper burial. The fact that there was no outcry over this shameful act, served to show to me just how fearful everyone here is of these strange dwarves.  Only a few dwarves murmered to themselves when the furniture of their dormitory was hauled off, and the doors sealed.  I marked them well, if I am to avenge Led, and repay the horrors that have been dealt me, then I am going to need help.

For now I will lay low and pretend to be an ardent worshiper of Armok. Urdim seems set on convincing her hounds, that having washed my hands in the blood of another, Armok as spoken to me and purified me.  In fact, now that she has declared me a believer, I have been granted a lavish new room and, gods be praised, my own

workshop!  I laughed in joy as I set about organizing it, setting the tables and reworking the crude tools that have been provided me. My room now has furnishings by my own hands, and a few simple engravings by Adil. One of them is a group of dwarves standing shoulder to shoulder looking grim, I think it is meant as a reminder to me not to step out of line again.

Perhaps any other dwarf would count themselves lucky to be alive and leave well enough alone, and indeed I found myself wondering if I should settle into this new life, enjoying the few comforts granted me, but every time I walk into the courtyard, the smell of Led’s decomposing body is heavy on the air, and I am haunted by his face as I sleep.  There will be vengeance! After carefully combing my room for any sign of hidden listening holes, I set about surreptitiously gathering about me a few discontented dwarves of similar mind. Ingush, Sigun and I gathered a few times nervously in my room late at night, and together we laid a plan to end the reign of the six once and for all. It was a hurried plan and crude, but we deemed it good enough and set about working out the details.

Erith had designated that, upon completion of the new wall, the slope on the uphill side be leveled and made clear, so potential besiegers are not able to stand on the heights and rain arrows upon the courtyard and new palisade. Herein we saw our chance, for upon the slope grew a tall and heavy beech tree, leaning slightly toward the fort, and positioned in such a way that (we learned after some crude surveying) it lay directly above the private dining hall used by the six! At the appointed time it was decided that Sigun and Ingish would use their positions in the kitchen to get access to the small storeroom across the hallway, and once there one would signal that Urdim was in the dining room by pulling a tiny string connected to a vent in the roof, the other would do his best to bar the door to any innocent dwarves who happened to wander in.

All was set and on the appointed day we took up our designated positions.  As I labored through the early morning, Erith came out to help me, I tried to send her away, telling her that she was much to holy to work at such a lowly task, and fearing she might recognize the danger the tree posed, or see the small cloth in the vent not three paces to the side of the tree. She would have none of it though and for a time I feared the tree would fall to soon, with both of us chopping, and paused for a few minutes, using as an excuse that my broken finger from my fight with Led was not fully healed.  Just as I returned to the tree to resume chopping, the cloth started jerking up and down franticly, and I started hacking through the last root with such abandon that Erith had to step out of the way. As she took a step back, the last few fibers holding the giant tree in place gave way and with a tremendous crack the tree began to fall. An underground root burst through the soil as it fell, and as I was dove out of the way of the trunk I saw it trip Erith from behind, she lost her footing and fell. After that there was only clouds of choking dust and it was some time before I was able to see what had happened……

[Clouds of dust are kicked up by the falling tree, clearly visible here is the wooden palisade and partially completed upper wall.]

Tests

Excerpted from: Trials of the Apostate

I has been a long day, and I am covered in blood and bruises from head to toe. There is not a single part of my body that does not throb with pain, but I feel the need to recount the days events while they are still fresh in my mind. I am alive, if only barely but there is a part of me that wishes I had not survived this day, for I did terrible deeds in the name of self preservation, the shame of which will linger long.

In the calm hours before dawn, Cerol shook me awake from where I lay on my pallet in the barracks. In a hushed but grave tone, he told me to suit up and meet me in the courtyard. Fearing the worst, I set about doffing what little in the way of leather armor had been provided me, and headed to the weapon rack to grab a weapon. There were no weapons. “This is it, I thought,” they are all waiting for me, they are going to sacrifice me to their god!”  After several panicked minutes spent weighing my options, I decided that if death by the hands of these luddite’s was my destiny, then so be it, Kubuk Vushonul is no mouse to die shivering in a corner! I strode out,  head high, ready for death, ready to show the cowards how a real dwarf dies.

As expected, all eight of the fellow dwarves that made up the militia were waiting for me. “Cowards, all eight of them against one unarmed dwarf” I thought, contemptuously. I was about ready to mock them all for their cowardice, when I noticed Urdim, hooded, her eyes shrouded in deep shadow and standing not three spans from me, partially hidden in the deep pool of shadow left by the wide cornice projecting out from the stockroom wall.

Before I could lunge at her and tear out her foul heart, she began to speak, bringing me up short.

“Kubuk” her voice came in a lilting, low tone “you have been deemed unclean in the eyes of Armok, you are not fit to live among us as you now stand, impure and unworthy.”  Her voice was otherworldly, like the echo of a thousand harsh whispers of a thousand fell voices in the deepest delving, and although I came prepared to die, fear now gripped my heart like an Iron vice, freezing me where I stood. Looking around to my companions, I found not the faces of the dwarves that battled with me through the wilderness for those many cruel months, but only the crazed, glazed eyes of dwarves who had abandoned their individuality and reason for madness. They looked not at me, but at Urdim, lapping up her every word and gesture like crazed, starving hounds. She spoke again “I offer you one final act of absolution for your indolence, heathen! One final chance to find the way of the righteous, and bathe yourself in the blood of true faith! Will you take it!?” The mob edged closer, I could feel the anticipation of violence heavy in the air.

Hating myself, hating the fear which now burned like a hot brand in the pit of my stomach, I heard myself say “What would you have me do, oh Urdim?” Urdim smiled faintly,  as if she had expected me to acquiesce, and after a short, heavy pause she said “If you would prove your faith, go you now to the dormitory, there you will find the dwarf Led Kifedrigoth, he who has been consumed by the red rage, he who has been cursed by Armok, he who  must now die!”  The dwarves in the shuffled around with a nervous energy,  ”Go now, take you no weapon or instrument of harm, and kill this creature! Bathe in his blood and revel in the slaughter!”

Without a word, I tuned and strode into the dormitory hall. Having resigned myself to obey this insane demand, I found myself now calm and and focused state of readiness. I felt eager! I know mine is a violent and capricious race, but to delight in the slaughter of a beaten, oppressed dwarf who, just like me, snapped under the strain of tyranny and injustice, this was a shameful indeed! As I rounded the corner into the dormitory, all thoughts were banished instantly from my head as a large shadowy figure lunged at me with a terrible choking scream.

My people are know for their closeness to the gods, and we are often seized by fey spirits. Our sages tell us this is the result of the gods trying to talk through us, and those souls too weak and impure to comprehend and translate the words, lose their sanity and become enraged and violent. This, no doubt is what Urdim told her crazed flock, but it’s rubbish. I knew Led snapped because he was tired of living in the rain and wind, eating the same paltry meals every day, and being constantly mocked and humiliated for his shy behavior and extreme size.  None of this knowledge factored into my decision to ward of his clumsy grasping kick, and use his own momentum to throw the large, dark-skinned dwarf into the well joined headboard of a nearby bed, snapping it neatly in two in the process.  The things that did factor into that fast piece of reasoning were One; I was now trapped in a narrow bunk-lined corridor with a maddwarf twice my weight, foaming at the mouth and intent on showing me what my spleen looked like, and Two; The only way out of this nightmare was to show him what his spleen looked like first.

Part of me comes alive when engaged in combat, my mind sharpens into a single point, and time itself seems to congeal and stop as my entire being becomes focused on a single, violent moment. This is why when the hulking figure of Led hit the backboard, rolled onto the bed and launched itself at me with incredible and unexpected speed I was able to evade the kick that would have taken off my head and instead, catch his flying mass in midair, twist, and slam him bodily onto the earthen packed floor.  As we were falling to the ground he managed to land a blow to my stomach, knocking the wind out of me, and leaving me gasping for air, and giving him time to shake his head clear, then start showering me with wild blows to the body, several of which landed before I had time to roll away and regain my feet.

We sparred for a time then, grappling once, then pushing each other away, both of us rebounding off cabinets. He swung clumsily at my head and I brought my gloved fist up in an uppercut, intercepting his blow, and breaking the third finger of his left hand almost in two, and spraying a nearby cabinet and bed in a jet of crimson blood. If the poor devil felt pain, he showed no sign.

He lunged at me again, the foam spilling down his once neat beard now pink as it mixed with blood running freely from a large cut on his lip. Ducking his arms, I reached up and grabbed his ear, tearing it partly free, as I dragged him down to the ground, holding him in a head lock with my leg while I punched him over and over again in the groin.  I held him there, beating the life out of him with both hands while i choked him with my legs, for what seemed like hours, his bloody hands flailed uselessly against my back, and my repeated beating of his groin made him projectile vomit all over the nearby wall.

Finally, he gave one last awful gurgle, and lay still.

I must have lapsed into unconsciousness, for when my eyes next opened I was in a room with smooth stone walls, a real bed and a dresser. Urdim was standing over me with an unreadable expression on her face. To my eyes she seemed….disappointed.

The Sacrifice

Excerpted from: Trials of the Apostate

Note found in a bottle tied under a traders wagon ,

Whoever finds this note; Heed what I say and remember that I, Kubuk Vushonul lived and died well! I am lucky to have found parchment and quill, they will destroy this note if they find it.

These dwarves of Edem Rimtar are all mad! I would leave this evil place, but where would I go? To the elves, or humans? They would never let me stay. I could follow a dwarven caravan into the wild, but I have not the strength or courage for another journey.

When we arrived here, fresh from the ruins of Fallstanford warren, my companions and I were initially overjoyed to be among our kind again, after wandering through the wild for endless days. Our joy was short lived, however, as Urdim and her followers soon started to impose strange, harsh rules on us.  They forbade us almost all the things a respectable dwarf needs to feel content in his labors and set us to work in the most menial of tasks. I spend my days laboring the sun like a common peasant. Me, a grand master mason of the highest quality!

After almost a year of this abuse, I snapped.  I don’t remember everything that happened, but all my bottled rage at the waste of my talents in such a petty way,  sent me into a black rage. I awoke in Erith’s craft room, the door blocked off with furniture, with a foul head, and tools in my hands, standing over the most wonderfully crafted table I had ever seen. I knew right away that mine were the hands which wrought this great work, and was filled with joy.  I tore down the barricade and rushed out, thinking the other dwarves would be amazed as I at the wonderful table, but I was met instead with stony faces and angry stares.  It seems that far from gaining their praises ,I had broken the laws of their god and angered them beyond measure.

Cruelly, they took my table for their own, and shunned me, refusing to speak to me at all.  The other dwarves I arrived with are frightened, they are afraid of this strange “Armok,” and refuse to risk their place in the community by disobeying his minions.  It is strange, there are many gods, why should one be more be more deserving of our attention? Will not our devotion to one anger the others? I said as much publicly, this only furthered their hatred of me, and while my contempt for this capricious lot only deepens  I can tell their words are starting to have some effect on my companions.

They made us go out and hunt a cougar, offering to indoctrinate whoever killed the beast into their strange cult. They gave us crude wooden spears, and shields and sent us running up and down the mountainside.  I was just glad to be doing something other than farming, and when we finally spotted and cornered the cougar, it was I who knocked him over with my shield, and pinned him to the ground with my spear while Cerol made the final blow.  Instead of  accolades, the other dwarves with me said I had greedily forbade them from fighting the creature, and threatened them with violence. It is obvious to me that I all but alone now, a outcast. My only friend is the timid farming foreman Thobiseth, who shares some displeasure at his lot here in this insane asylum.

Later, more refugees arrived. I have tried desperately to gain support among them to overthrow these dangerous lunatics and bring back the rule of reason to our people, but to little avail. These poor people are all but broken and there is not much fight left in them, they are content it seems in their humiliating tasks.

Kubuk

Floodgates open, trapping Kubuk

Trapped!

I am sure these religious fanatics tried to murder me today, but I dare not say anything!  If I were to openly accuse them, I think they have enough support now to have me locked up as a maddwarf, or worse. I was instructed by Ceril, my former freind and new militia captain, to go down into the new cultivation caverns and help Zuglar Install a new floodgate cover.  After it was in place, Zuglar told me he was going to close it while he tested the lever he rigged up to open it back up again.  A few minutes later A torrent of water began pouring into the room from a side corridor, and rapidly began filling the chamber. I tried, gasping for breath  in the the pitch black, to fight my way against the in rushing water to the surface of the pond above, but it was hopeless. I bobbed for some time, bleeding and bruised as the water rose till it afforded me only a thin sliver of air, then none at all.  With all the water now in the chamber, the current stopped, and gave me one chance to save myself. With only the air in my lungs I swam up the intake channel and into the pond with all the strength I had left. I blacked out, and when I came to I was lying on the bank, covered in mud and my own blood.

Escape! Kubuk didn't move for days.

I write this in haste, a caravan is here and I am going to try to slip this note to a guard.  If I don’t find a way to appease their anger with me soon, this place will surely be my grave.

[I had actually intended to kill Kubuk here, but he surprised me by fighting his way through 9-7/7  tiles of underground water, constantly being washed back into the chamber. In the end he survived,forcing me to completely rewrite my story ^^, its hard for me to kill him now since I'm growing quite fond of him. Its also unfortunate that he is the most skilled of any dwarf in my fortress]

Growing Pains

Excerpts from the book of Erith, 22;16

The Newcomers

4th sandstone, mid autumn

Momentous news! A great flood of refugees has found its way over hill and stone, through great peril, to our very doorstep. In the evening after our workshops were cleaned and our tools put up in their rightful places, Cerol came running into our dining hall with word that a great party of Dwarves (perhaps following the tracks of the great wains used by the traders) was making its way up the mountainside from the river valley below.  We kept the gates up and armed ourselves, expecting the worst. There were a tense few minutes, until Muthkat recognized one of the newcomers as Athel Cugganiden, a mining forman from Fallstanford.  How such a large party survived two winters in the wild I do not know, some of these poor wretches have a pointedly haunted look about them, it is better I think, not to ask.  They number 28 in all, and without exception they are frail shadows of their former selves. There are children among them, sad little things wrapped in filthy blankets, upon entering the gates many of them wept.

These new arrivals are frightened and easily led, and although they are all unclean in the eyes of our god, we have plenty of stores, so it was decided by Urdim that they will be offered shelter and food here with us, and to those of them who submit to the will of Armok, tools and worthy quarters. Upon hearing this announcement the refugees burst into cheers, some weeping openly, some pulling their beards contentedly, and it was some time before they could be organized into a party to clear rubble for the dormitory, which I quickly set about digging for them. In short order it was done, and after inscribing the 6 tenants of the wall, we dragged in what spare furniture we had for them, and just like that our humble warren has tripled in size.

7th sandstone, mid autumn

We must tread carefully with the unbelievers now. They are many and if pushed to far might come on us unawares and wrest from us control of our hard won home.  It is as if Fallstanford, not content with humiliating us and persecuting us for our beliefs, has followed us here and is mocking us from beyond the grave.  Already, sheriff Zuglar tells me that the seeds of discontent are growing, if not plucked soon, they will bear us a bitter harvest.  Yesterday Zuglar spied Thobiseth and the embittered Kubuk talking in hushed and hurried words as they planted hideroot.  After meeting in secret with Zuglar and Urdim, it was concluded that Thobiseth is aware of Armok’s displeasure with him, and is not content to bear his wrath. Perhaps, we reasoned, he needs a dwarf who can train other disillusioned heathens in violence, violence to be directed at us. Urdim says it is time to act, to set an example for these new arrivals while they are still frightened, weak from their journey, and disorganized.

The Dormitory

Thobiseth, it was decided, must die along with Kubuk, only then will

we be safe, having cemented our divine right to rule these people by a bloody demonstration of the power of Armok!  Tobiseth was needed, at least till winter,  to teach the refugees how to farm our fields, Kubuk however, will be sacraficed to Armok as soon as preperations are completed. Death to all those who would appose the will of Armok!

13th Moonstone, early winter

Over the course of the last month, I have labored alongside Adil and Muthkat in secret by night to construct a sacraficial chamber.  Tunneling near the pond, a chamber with three valves has been hollowed out of the loam. Floodgates seperate the tunnels that connect  the chambers together, and these are linked via clever rock mechanisms to our holy sanctum beside our rooms.  When one lever is pulled, water from the pond rushes in and fills the room, drowning its occupant, the next lever opens the other floodgate, and pushes the water into a chamber where we will grow our underground crops, muddying the water and preparing the ground for our seeds. Tommorow, we will trick Kubuk into this chamber, where he will find his destiny.

The execution and cultivation chambers

The sanctum, with chest containing the holy tablets

Next: The Sacrafice