The final days of my allotted time as ruler start with a high note. life_source, stonecrafter, is taken by a mood and withdraws from society! Though I had hoped one of my many weaponsmithing trainees would enter a mood instead, such occurrences are always things of joy.



life_source selects several raw materials, including a base of malachite (copper ore) and a bar of iron, and gets to work. We all await the results of his illuminated work with excitedly.




Suddenly, disaster in the forges! A giant bat descends out of the darkness with absolutely no warning, just after the militia left the area to return to training! The beast is absolutely silent, and we don't even see it until it is almost upon us!



I halt work on the iron bolts I was forging an stand up. John Dough is the only dwarf closer to the beast than me. I push him aside and give the call for the militia. Fortunately, all members of the militia and guard are required to be in uniform at all times. I unsheathe my whip and move to engage the bloodthirsty monster.




The giant bat is too fast! Before I can even snap my whip in warning it is upon me. Its long fangs take hold of my midsection and it shakes me about viciously. I feel my skin being ripped open, but I stay in control even as leathery wings buffet me wildly. It snatches at me with its fangs again, but I manage to deflect the attack with my steel shield and lash the beast with my whip! The heavy iron weapon bruises the creature, but fails to slow it down. The bat flaps into the air, then leaps at me from above! I dodge the attack, then dodge another as the creature snaps its jaws at me hungrily. I shout a sacred word to Kudust and charge. My lash misses, but I catch the beast off-guard. The two of us roll to the ground, and I immediately leap back to our feet, dazed. I look around, but the bat is gone.



I clutch my wounded flesh and head toward the infirmary. I hear screams as I mount the stairs, but I know the giant bat is beyond my ability to kill with a mere whip.



I learn later that the bat merely slipped down a nearby stairwell for a moment, then burst back out as soon as I had left. Markus and Elswyyr are trapped on the far side of the magmaworks! They attempt to rush past the giant bat toward safety, but the beast intercepts them and attacks!



Within a moment the giant bat is biting at Elswyyr. He turns and runs away from the creature, toward the far end of the magmaworks.




The giant bat catches him just as he nears the last smelter. As it leaps at him, Elswyyr attempts to avoid the attack, but trips and stumbles forward.



Elswyyr falls directly into the hole allowing access to the magma below for the smelters. He instantly vanishes beneath the magma.



As Elswyyr sinks, he simultaneously burns and drowns. His last thought is that he could really, really use a drink right about now.



Elswyyr dies, deep down in the magma tube. His body will never be recovered, however it is not entirely unfitting that a worshiper of Etur, the god of fire, metals, and wealth, be interred within an eternally burning grave. May he rest peacefully.



Unfortunately for Markus, Elswyyr was the only things standing between the giant bat and himself. He immediately becomes the monster's next target. Markus flees, and turns suddenly as the beast catches up, avoiding its fangs for a few more precious moments.



Markus attempts to loop back toward safety, but the giant bat is too fast. Around the time it catches him, Willie Tomg throws a party. Typical of the layabouts to celebrate at the worst possible time.



The giant bat rips and tears at Markus. The Great Architect is not accustomed to combat, although to his credit he manages to throw a few punches as the beast holds him firmly in place.



Enzer, as usual, is first upon the scene. She sprints toward combat with super-dwarven speed, but Markus is rapidly being overcome.



Every time the former gets back to his feet, the giant bat knocks him onto the mud, then grabs at a limb and shakes Markus around like a rag doll. At this point, Markus is no longer fighting back. He curls up in a ball in a pile of bloody mud and waits for the end. Typical of a Mondulite.



The beast gets ahold of Markus's big toe and tears it off entirely. Markus now bleeds rapidly from half a dozen wounds.



Just when everything seems lost, though, Enzer slams into the giant bat from the side with incredible force. A few quick hacks of her axe dismember the beast, and the threat is extinguished.



But Markus is pale from blood loss, tired, and suffering extreme pain. Those nearby see a bloody, shaking dwarf covered in mud and the torn remnants of his attire.



He takes a few steps toward the infirmary, then collapses. Before a dwarf can come rescue him, however, he gets back to his feet and limps forward once more.



He reaches the stairwell and heads upward, now somewhat accustomed to his pain.



Markus arrives in the infirmary under his own power and collapses in the bed furthest from mine. I ignored the insult for the moment and attempted to ask him what happened in the magmaworks after I left for treatment. My friend ignored me completely. I considered whether he might blame me for the attack.



Stimm the brewer arrives and diagnoses Markus and I.



Our treatment charts appear similar. Clean, suture, dress wounds. However, Markus is confirmed to be suffering from massive blood loss in addition to motor nerve damage, sensory nerve damage, and a lessened ability to use one of his hands. It is unlikely he will ever be able to participate in combat or similar strenuous activities that require the use of both hands.




Obmeiste arrives to clean my wounds. Around this time, something bizarre happens. Markus, still near death, gets up from his bed and heads out the door. I shout for him to return, but he ignores me once more. Markus heads over to the brewery stockpile and gets a drink unassisted, then heads over to the well to clean himself off. Later, my wound is sutured and dressed. Markus never allows himself to receive such attention. His behavior disturbs me. I can only attribute it to his Mondulite upbringing- what other kind of dwarf would risk death rather than wait for treatment? Within hours, Markus is seen smelting iron alongside the other dwarves in the forges.



Markus's toe lies atop a pile of filth nearby, next to the severed leg of the giant bat. The entire arrangement is sprinkled with blood from both dwarf and bat. No dwarf moves to retrieve the toe.



life_source completes his artifact! It is a terrifying work, carved to resemble a twisted, horrible forgotten beast. Engraved "upon" it, or rather within its grasp, is a dwarf. life_source calls it "The Rainy Help." I call it a bad omen.




As winter comes to an end, I send Enzer and her squad to explore the cavernous depths beneath Gemclod. I had hoped to lead the expedition myself, but my wounds and lack of experience mean that I would likely be sending myself and my guards to an early death. Enzer and her soldiers mount newly-constructed stairs out of the magmaworks and head south.



Almost immediately, they come upon a troll. Memories of Slaan's death at the hands of such a beast are still fresh in the minds of our soldiers, but Enzer is fearless.



She rushes ahead of her troops to engage the monster and chops it in half with her steel axe, ending the fight before the beast even had a chance to fight back.



As the scouting party heads south, they discover a way down to a lower cavern. With Enzer leading, they head downward into the depths.



Enzer stumbles upon another magma tube. Though it is unlikely that we need more magma to power our metalsmithing, the virgin tube could be useful to future engineering projects. The magma from this new tube could be utilized without disrupting the smelting and metalsmithing atop the other tube. It is, however, deeper in the earth.



Enzer's scouts move out, discovering quickly that this second cavern is even more vast than the one at the surface. They find yet another passage downward.




Peering down, though, they find that this passage leads to a large lake. Since none of the miltia soldiers have any experience swimming, they decide to continue searching through the 2nd cavern, and lead the 3rd for future expeditions.



Enzer and her scouts discover a bizarre, dwarf-sized being near the water. Enzer calls it a Reacher for its long, spindly arms.




Further on, Enzer and her scouts stumble upon a much more threatening beast. The behemoth is humanoid, but massive, pale, muscular, and lacking eyes. Enzer calls it a "Blind Cave Ogre" after similar massive beasts who roam the evil plains.




Enzer takes the opportunity to destroy the Reacher before it can threaten anydwarf who might venture into the depths. The monster is aggressive, but not especially powerful.



Enzer finds himself face-to-face with the blind cave ogre next. The great beast roars and charges at the famed Axe Lord, knocking her to the ground and stunning her several times. It seems that Enzer is in trouble, but she deflects the ogre's huge fists with her shield and takes command of the situation by scoring a few painful hits on the beast with her axe.



The ogre attempts to retreat in blind terror as Enzer hacks away, but does not get far before Enzer finishes the job just as her soldiers show up. At that point, they return to the fortress to resupply and avoid further such run-ins.




I commission a couple brass statues to decorate the fortress. This one is my favorite:



I fear the Great Architect may never be the same. He has healed since his run-in, but huge scars run across his body. He seems distant and still refuses to speak with me. In fact, he seems less social than ever overall. He does his work, though, despite still appearing faint from blood loss. I hope for a full recovery, but fear that his weak, Mondulite soul may not pull through without proper medical treatment.





Training is going well. Our marksdwarves learn under Repelex's careful tutelage, and take turns shooting at the archery range.



On the surface at our open training ground, over half a dozen dwarves improve their martial prowess at all times. Some instruct others in various techniques, some practice individually, and some spar. I spar with Snollygoster for some time, exchanging cushioned blows under the careful watch of Minty and Enzer.



Underground, near the entrance to our magmaworks, another blind cave ogre is sighted. Perhaps it is kin of the ogre Enzer slew earlier. I send Enzer's squad to intercept the beast before it can assail the entrance to our fortress proper.



This time, Enzer has little trouble with the great beast. She decapitates it swiftly and without mercy.



Here is how the main level of Gemclod appears now. Following the new military draft and the massive forging operation to outfit our forces, we have fewer workers for hauling and maintaining the fortress proper. I have shuffled around the duties of a few dwarves to keep things running smoothly. Even the layabouts are now occasionally seen doing some form of work.



Gemclod at a glance. Almost all of the spare meat has been cooked into meals, and drink is plentiful, although plump helmet wine still makes up around half of our stock. Workers grow thirsty quickly in this scorching environ- we must be careful to maintain a large stock of beer, wine, and liquor lest we suddenly find ourselves dry.



It seems my time as leader here has come to an end. I originally planned to push for another term, but the recent events at the magmaworks make that a political impossibility. Therefore, I hereby resign my position as Praetor, and will commit myself fully to being Captain of the Guard. I expect Boing, one of our guards, will take up the banner of overseer next. I wish her the best.

markus_cz wrote :-

"No, I don't want to play checkers."

Leperfish was stunned. He was sitting at his table in their double-office on top of the Great Hall, enjoying a calm day. When Markus approached him, he expected to be asked to play the game as usual, and was already thinking of excuses. But this... this wasn't Traditional.

"My arm is torn, my muscles weak," explained Markus. "I cannot move the pieces in the checkers room. Chisel."

This confused Leperfish, it was not how things were supposed to be. He struggled to maintain a semblance of the proper Order: "But we can play small checkers. Like in the old days."

"No. Chisel." Markus was firm.

"I... I don't understand," said Leperfish.

"My hand is mangled, my tendons torn. My fingers refuse to move. I cannot hold the chisel to draw Designs upon stone. You must instead," said Markus.

Reluctantly, Leperfish took a chisel and a mallet from his table, and prepared a fresh tablet. It was made of mudstone, which was good, for the stone was soft and accepting of letters. Thinking about mudstone, suddenly, gave him an idea how to restore things to normal. "Markus, I have consulted the Lore about mudstone. I was mistaken. The pillars in the Great Hall won't crumble if we collapse them. Your plan will work. Shall we fix the disruption in the Design together?"

"No. My blood is thin, my life is sparse. The infection is spreading from my arm to the rest of the body. Soon I will be with Mondul. This is not a time to think about aesthetics. Chisel, for we have more important Designs to make."

As Leperfish hit the chisel and carved a short line into the tablet, a tear dropped from the corner of his eye.

Burgomaster wrote :-

markus_cz wrote :-

Snollygoster wrote :-

"Journal of Snollygoster," Recovered fragment, c. 264.

These are our last days.

No one wants to admit it. The Archenemy killed us nearly a century ago; the corpse of our civilization has yet to fall. Our overseers hold to Tradition, and I guess I can't blame them. Maybe keeping up our social continuity gives the others hope that the ancient days will return. At least the chores give us a reason to get up in the morning.

I came to Gemclod with the other refugees. Some of them talked about rumors of adamantine and riches in the deep, resources to reverse our decline. I just came to see what the grave of the dwarven race looked like. And what a grave it is! Behold Gemclod, a swampy, puckered anus in the ground, churning out clouds of fermented plump helmet fumes.

I confess to a fragment of hope when I saw the magma forges. I am a metalcrafter by trade, and here I saw the potential for immortality. Gemclod's monster-wracked bowels are filled with enough raw material for me to perfect my craft. I could make tokens of Dwarven culture so perfect and so sturdy as to endure the turning of all the ages of the world. I would enshrine our way of life as it was, and cast out what it had become.

Then Vox press-ganged me into his reserve corps and shoved an axe into my hands.

Now I take fighting lessons under our mighty Praetor, who got chumped by an angry bat in the forgeworks. Or rather I will, once the suturers stitch him back together. Likely he imagines a final, grand struggle against the Archenemy. It's more likely we'll all be chased off an obsidian shelf into magma by a giant ballsack with legs, or whatever rude, primordial jokes dwell in the deep here.

Poor Elswyyr. Poor dumb, dead bastard. There's no equity in life, nor is there dignity in death.