2nd Slate

Vox Lied. It is a wonder that he organised the construction of this decadent grave - a construction that involved multiple miners and engravers at the least - and succeeded in swearing all those involved to secrecy. Even his Hall of Heroes, which features prominently in his journal as a place to honour our fallen dead, has but a fraction the opulence of the tomb he has carved out for himself. In his contrivance, he has failed to ensure that no future overseer shall stumble upon his works. I send word for him to meet me in his my office for a Talk.



He takes his time, but complies with the request, for I have told him nothing of its matter. He arrives. I do not.

Now that the so-called Praetor has a fitting tomb, I reserve the labyrinthine mausoleum for a candidate more fitting. Markus has served Gemclod well, and though he has contrived to distance himself from his dwarfkin of late, it is suitable that he be remembered as the first overseer and the founder of our settlement. I suspect it will not be long before the platinum sarcophagus finds itself an occupant.



Meanwhile, I shall require a new office. I order one to be mined out to the side of the Great Hall. It is humble, but suitable.

3rd Slate



ObMeiste the doctor drops his masonry duties at the sight of another bird monster in the forge area. The in-training Cythereal is nearby, but has yet to develop his combat reflexes, and flees as well. I forgive the transgression, for he has yet to witness real combat. The creature does not give chase - but I close the passage by which it came. Soon the forges shall be secure against untimely assault.



We have steel to spare, so I order the construction of spikes for the Welcome Room. I am assured they shall be suitably large and menacing.

4th Slate



Somehow, the bird monster penetrated beyond the forges and made its way toward the fortress proper. Leperflesh skillfully escaped from its talons, though it did not seem vicious enough to pursue. The military is dispatched to end the matter once and for all.



Enzer assures me that it was so.



With more practical things on my head, I oversee the deconstruction of the old trade depot. It is moved to the new area below the Great Hall, where the blueprints I have drawn up are being finalised and mined out. More dwarves working with mechanisms are required, so I appoint Redeye Flight as an engineer in training. He has little experience, but he will learn. Work continues.

11th Slate



I feel that my authority is being challenged by some in Gemclod. There have been disruptions of work orders where no tangible reasons exist. Refuse remains on the surface, unmoved despite my urging to do so. life_source collects webs despite my explicit instructions to stay away from the under-caves. I would seal them off, but it appears there are too many bleeds into the fortress proper to do so without extensive reconstruction. Efforts will be made.

Further, the dwarves begin to quarrel amongst themselves about the whereabouts of Vox Nihili. I have so far told them nothing. Not even Willie.



The ex-Praetor's dog contrives to wander about the fortress, tripping me up at any opportunity. It reminds me of the fat, traitorous blaggard whenever my eyes lie upon it. I am not questioned when I order the creature killed for its meat, despite that we are not wanting.

15th Slate



Despite markus's state, he works diligently to design the drawbridges circumscribing the new trade depot. I am informed that the bridge to the south is already completed and mechanised, so I order it closed, and the finishing touches dug out.



The sound of rushing water shakes the Great Hall as it cascades down a newly-built pipe east of the river.



The reservoir will fill, but it will take time.

19th Slate



Dwarfkin bustles to complete the ceiling of the forge area. I hope soon to no longer feel concerned for the well-being of our children when they dance circles around the exposed magma pits.

I turn my attention to other matters of Safety. A lever with no discernible function sits at the front door of Vox's office tomb. I order it pulled, in an attempt to discern its function such that it may cause no future danger to our dwarfkin. Brainspawn does so with reluctance, even after I tell him to ignore the banging on the doors nearby.



It appears to do nothing.

24th Slate

Though I had hoped for little resistance from our enemies in the first months of my term, I could not expect such little effort from them. The only possible conclusion is that they bide their time, amassing larger forces with which to strike at our settlement. Once again, it appears the ex-Praetor is to blame for allowing the escape of an elven warrior. I must expedite the construction of safe walls and roofs for our dwarfkin.

Further, spring continues on and migrants have yet to arrive. This is fortuitous, for the welcome room is not yet complete - but the masonry projects draw time away from spike manufacture. I order more dwarves to begin weaponsmithing efforts, despite a lack of prior experience - TehKeen, The_White_Crane and TyrantSabre shall make adequate work.

26th Slate



Their timing is poor.

K0npeito wrote :-

The Distributed Journal of K0npeito Craftwealth
20th Slate/The Hallway Outside the Forges

Well! Apparently that panic room Vox asked me to dig wasn't a panic room but was in fact a tomb, which is strange because Vox specifically said that it was a secret panic room, not that he was endorsing panic mind you, because that would never befit a proper Kudustite like ex-Overseer Vox, but in any event this wasn't a panic room but a panic tomb, or perhaps a regular tomb, but in any case a tomb rather than a room (though I suppose a tomb is a room), which according to Boing now belongs to Markus, who really hasn't been looking that well recently and it is all well and good to plan ahead, and he did lead us to Gemclod and design the Great Hall

WHICH I DUG

much like I'm digging now, can you believe I actually came here as a doctor, it'd be a fine jest if it wasn't true as Tradition, but I'm very glad I've moved into mining, which is a much more appropriate career for a dwarf, not to cast aspersions on those doctors who have taken over my previous office and who have much greater skill than I ever did to be perfectly frank, I feel much safer with them around, and I don't think my Finger Safety Campaign went over very well if you judge effectiveness by rate of finger injuries, but to get back to the topic of the panic room tomb, I meant to ask Vox about this because as I wrote a few feet back down the hall, I'm fairly certain that he said it was not a tomb and that it was meant to be kept secret, and so of course I didn't say anything about it, but I could be wrong, and for some reason I can't find Vox anywhere, which is quite troubling, so I've been trying to find my journal entry referring to the subject but I've lost track of which wall I carved that into.

Maybe I should stop carving my journal into the wall as I mine, even if stone is by far the most appropriate medium of choice for any dwarven endeavor. If anyone reading this finds that segment of my journal, please let me know, and hopefully it hasn't been smoothed or engraved over, because that would be terrible and incredibly confusing.


And that is what happens when your dwarf has poor focus and tries to keep a journal.

Snollygoster wrote :-

Recovered journal fragment of "Snollygoster," c. 265

Vox is missing.

We have a new Overseer on point, this cow Boing. Here's the thing about the Tradition of rulership: at its best, it gives our society a fresh administrator every year, someone with fresh-stoked passion, kept in check by the limit of their term of service.

At worst? I've heard it called the mountain eagle style of leadership. The new Overseer flies in, shits on everything, then leaves. It's too soon to pass judgement on Boing but I know that tearing down a fucking wooden palisade is generally not a fatal task. Someone cocked up and now Samuszoomer is a little red flapjack in a rock coffin somewhere.

So we've got this going on. Boing settles in, recuses herself from our reserve squad, and suddenly the Praetor's missing. I'm short two sparring partners. Look, I'm a crafter by trade, but if I'm going to be pigeonholed into the reserve corps, at least give me the tools to do the job!

I'm not complaining about the armor. This place is pissing steel, so I can take a hit. But this axe of mine? This is a Vox Nihili Special. The guy makes weapons as sharp as the forgeworks are safe. I'm pretty sure this is just a plowshare with the word "AXE" etched on one side.

So here I am, shadowboxing by myself with this cruel parody of an axe. After about a week I start looking around for my former squaddies. I figure they've invoked some Overseer's privilege or other to get out of work. I found Boing all right, approving work orders for spikes... but no Vox. Not even in the infirmary. His dog's gone missing, too.

Something's up. Even that loon K0npeito has picked up on it. I think he's been licking a cinnabar seam or something. Maybe he's got religion, I don't know what his deal is. Maybe we'll start looking into things. He'd be a good one to have at my back. What he lacks in formal weapons training, he makes up for in sheer retard strength. I've seen him when he comes back from the tunnels. Dwarf's arms look like bags of grapes.

ObMeiste wrote :-

Diary of Obmei Tobulurmim
Slate 3rd, 265

I just had the most terrifying experience today, diary.
There I was, going about with my work down by the magma forge when suddenly I heard something twitter in the gloom.
It made me nervous, but nevertheless curiosity got the better of me and I tried to see where it was coming from.
Suddenly there was a terrifying squawk and a gust wind striking whipping into me from huge fluttering feathered wings.
I was of course scared out of my mind by it and ran away as fast as I could, running into Cythereal on the way.
She saw the look on my face and read it like a open book, so she turned to run as well. And I must say that despite being a woman of some size, she ran even quicker than me.
In the end, we managed both to get to safety without any harm to our person. Thank goodness!

Apparently from the descriptions me and Cythereal gave, they said it had been a giant that had attacked us. More worryingly we were told when the warriors had gone to search for the swallow, it was gone.
That is really the most terrible thing about the whole ordeal, being left with the fear that it could swoop in to strike again, attacking any one of us. Ripping into us like what happened to poor Mr.Markus and Praetor Vox!

Actually come to think of it, I've not seen the former Praetor since the day before yesterday.
Oh dear I do hope he's not fallen prey to that terrible creature already!