It is already winter, and my reign is approaching the point that would typically be considered its natural end. However, I put little weight in such Tradition. I my yet insist on extending the period of my reign, though I fear the commoners may not be receptive to the idea given that three dwarves have coincidentally died in the past year.

On to documenting the mundanities of the fortress. Awhile back, I witnessed Shorter Then Some hauling a caged mountain goat in from the swamp. After some investigation, I learned that one of the prior overseers set up a cage trap in the middle of the swamp in the hope of catching one of the large, predatory cats. I decide to keep the wild mountain goat in the stockpile for now- it interests me little.



Farming continues at a good pace. TyrantSabre grows a variety of crops in our three active fields. I streamlined the process by moving seed storage to within steps of the fields themselves. Recently, we planted pig tails over the objections of a few dwarves. I hope to improve the variety in our stocks of liquor.



Daisyvondoom creates a few platinum goblets of exquisite quality from our very limited stock of platinum bars. Their value is estimated to rival that of the most basic artifacts. I will use them in trading only if someone expensive catches my eye.




Speaking of trade, the dwarven caravan arrives! I immediately order our troops to defensive positions. Goblins and elves are known to follow caravans to settlements in order to maximize the damage of their raids.



Unlike the humans, our dwarven brothers bring a substantial stock of trading goods. I am overjoyed to see the long line of pack animals approach our gate.



Before they arrive, though, Boing gives birth again! Everyone welcome brute_force the baby to our fortress! The little girl is born with long hair and excellent musculature. Kudust blesses us.



It seems one of our crafters is spreading rumors about K0npeito, one of the founding seven, through his works. Since the piece is not of masterpiece quality, it is not signed by the artisan who created it. I ask K0npeito himself about the issue, but he says that there's no need to pursue it, and insists that he does, in fact, like donkeys for their stubbornness.



I oversee Willie Tomg as he handles our trading. We acquire gypsum powder, alcohol, various bars of metal, exotic foodstuffs, barrels, and much more. We have enough stonecrafts to pay for our purchases without trading away out much more valuable metalcrafts.



As with the human caravan, I offer some of our finest cooking as a gift to the traders. They accept graciously.




I examine a list of the known civilizations that have made contact with us in this place. We are at war with 2/3 of the foreign nations that know of us. I only hope we can avoid upsetting the humans, as well. We do not need more enemies.



Locomotive Breath flexes his newfound mayoral muscles with a mandate outlawing the export of lead. As captain of the guard, it would fall upon me to punish any transgressions. Fortunately, we don't even have any lead here.




I order a new area of exclusive, high-quality housing dug out for our new noble class. The first room will be the office, then the dining room, and at last the bedroom. Our public servants will enjoy the finest accommodations Gemclod can offer.



Angry Ed, our lone cook, creates a massive meal of great beast byproducts spiced with quarry leaves. Dwarven ingenuity at its finest.



Locomotive Breath meets with the liaison. I suggest he request the usual stocks of liquors, metals, weapons, and exotic foods. He tells me that rings, scepters, and earrings are in vogue in the rest of the nation. Our craftdwarves will take advantage of this.




A giant cave swallow is spotted near the metalworking operations! Though barricades efforts now prevent most underworld beasts from approaching our artisans, flying monsters can still find their way in. I send down the militia to deal with the swallow.




But the giant bird flies off before anyone can catch it. I am wary to leave our operations defenseless, so I order the militia to guard the general area until the beast vacates the region entirely.



YeOldeButchere produces piles of excellent steel armor. Our forces will be well-protected, indeed. Various militia run down to the forges to pick up steel armor throughout the production process, tossing aside their bone-craft and salvaged goblin gear in favor of high-quality Gemclod armor. Unfortunately, weapons production does not go so well. I remain the most skilled weaponsmith in Gemclod, and must profess that my skills are, indeed, rather lacking.



I can't help but shake the feeling that work has progressed all too easily in the past few months. I fear inevitable disaster may strike at any time.

TyrantSabre wrote :-

From the Frantic, Fussy Allegations of "TyrantSabre" Gemgrowths, Mud-Decimator-in-Chief of Gemclod

16 Opal 264

Untenable! Despite my machinations, pig tail seeds were planted in a field. I must have been too busy regaling the others with the exploits of Deg the West Trade over a barrel of dwarven rum to realize that someone else was planting Armok-damned pig tails in the field. Now I am frustratingly out of measures against them, as the Tradition forbids the uprooting of plants already sown. There's some slight hope that I could leave them unattended long enough once grown to rot, but given the proclivity of the others to pick up plants as soon as they realize they're grown it's a futile hope.

On the other hand, the recent utilization of magma to build forges gives me another idea. During the human caravan's visit, I was interested to hear of their strawberry wine's quality due to the 'volcanic soil' in which it was grown. We have soil, and a volcano (in the making). Perhaps given some screw pumps, a series of mechanisms, and the proper protective construction, I could coax the Overseer (big-picture-dwarf that he is) into implementing a new 'fertilization' system for the pig tails...