Journal of Boing Dalkamzefon
1st Galena, 265



The ramparts flow thick with sweat as dwarfkin toils to complete the fortress roof. In time this may be a second surface level to mighty Gemclod, complete with barracks for our armies and quarters for our workers, but for now I concern my term with the provision of Safety for us all. No more dwarf shall die needless deaths during my year as overseer, and I shall endeavour to ensure that none more shall have the opportunity to meet their ends in later years. Even the Mondulites.



And though no number of blood-hungry greenskins will end my grudge against the treacherous ex-Praetor, his death too is one I will not let myself be held accountable for. I arrange for the delivery of some small quantity of food to his dank, watery prison.



Meanwhile, in an effort to prevent Accidents, I order the Welcome Room and its control board locked and barred. No dwarf, child or cat is to be allowed inside for any reason other than a case of immediate fortress infiltration.

Work continues.

3rd Galena

It has been many weeks since the goblins' failed assault and yet they still intrude upon our swamp even as we make mighty effort not to allow them any sense of satisfaction. If at any time our labours grow weak and our workers weary, then the greenskins have won. It is not something that is permissible.

They must be driven away. But I am loath to once again lower the great drawbridge and risk our brave warriors in combat, for even Enzer has known the taste of cold stone upon her face - though her last battle with the forge-troll ended in her favour it may not necessarily have been so. I order Repelex and Shark Mafia to the ramparts, that they may rain death on our enemies from above.





Repelex's first bolt brings the greenskin leader's great hair-covered mount to the ground. The goblin queen screeches with rage and attempts to move the beast, but to no avail. Her stirrups are wound tight - and she will not dismount if she yet could, for her resolve is strong. It is in our favour.



Furious dwarven iron pours down upon the enemy, finding flesh and bone on which to feed. A number thud without ceremony into the waterlogged soil, but many more hit their mark, piercing the goblin's leg at first and lodging in her arm then. Blood pours, staining the beast's fur - it stirs, but stumbles forward only a few steps before colliding again with the ground in a stupor of pain.



The goblin rider herself now ceases struggling as her pain grows too great. Repelex fights alone, for it seems Shark Mafia is otherwise occupied.



But Repelex's quiver is full, and her bolts continue to find their mark. She continues to fire into a mess of blood and vomit, and I am replete with disappointment that the greenskin is not awake to suffer as we have suffered.



A living target, the maddening foliage and the outdoor wind provide better training than any archery range ever could. With every pull of the trigger, Repelex's aim grows more true. Barely a single bolt flies without being met by the sound of tearing flesh or splitting bone. With luck, she will be able to pass her skills on to Shark Mafia and any others that follow her lead.

Shark Mafia finally makes an appearance on top of the gatehouse, and in their combined fire they succeed in putting a bolt through the skull of the great hair-beast, ending its movement forever.



The greenskin makes a valiant attempt to crawl to safety, though by now having the semblance more of a pin-cushion than of a warlord. She succeeds in clawing herself to a range just beyond that at which the militia's crossbows are effective, and lies instead half-dead on the other side of the brook, fading in and out of pain-struck consciousness. With luck, she will choke on her own blood.

Though seemingly concerned, the other greenskins do not come to her aid, for they are barbarians and know nothing of dwarven honour.

8th Galena

It is heavy, but in carrying it I know that Vox Nihili's guilty torment will be prolonged further. It is all he deserves.



With a splash, the barrel drops into the damp tomb and floats along on the water's surface, colliding with a hollow thud against the corner of the room. I do not stay to see if Vox eats, though I believe he will not contrive to martyr himself by starvation. In either case the matter is now beyond my control.



12th Galena



TyrantSabre continues to wander despondently about the fortress, screaming occasionally some hysterical yet inaudible demand before walking blindly into some wall or another. By this point he wears only a shoe and a silk glove, and I thank Sirab that his beard is long for otherwise he would be not the only one driven mad by sights no dwarf was meant to see.

I appoint Illarkul as our new chief farmer, though it will take many harvests before he is as skilled with the sickle as was TyrantSabre.



Meanwhile I order the pillars in the Great Hall engraved with tales of our mighty heroes' successes. Mythomanic takes the job and the beginning of his work is promising.



16th Galena



The two-strong Knives of Domination continue to bombard the greenskin stragglers, but their leader is nowhere to be seen. Rampart lookouts fail to report the location of her corpse - and so it is evident that she has fled the battle or gone into hiding where our bolts cannot find her. Regardless it does not seem to have affected the morale of the other goblins, though our iron has certainly done.

Our lookouts sight something else on the horizon, however.

YeOldeButchere wrote :-

Journal of Yeol Deabo Tcher, Armorer and Weaponsmith of Gemclod

Good news Diary! The idiot who had claimed one of my forges finally went mad! This means no competition for the title of weaponsmith of Gemclod, for now, and I've got my forge back. For a moment I was afraid he might go berserk, but thankfully he just started babbling and running and getting naked. He hasn't thrown himself in the magma yet either, which I'm thankful for as the smell of burnt beard from the last time someone fell in there just finally went away.

I'm a little less pleased about what the overseer has ordered built in one of my forges: giant corkscrews and pipes. It can only mean one thing. Pumps! They'll have to threaten me with one of my own steel axes for me to even touch one of these things. I still remember that year I spent as a pump operator well enough to know that just about anything short of death is a preferable alternative.

That aside, I'm starting to warm up to Gemclod's militia. Or at least some of its members. The competent ones, like Enzer anyhow. Of course with my weapons and armor it's not like it's particularly difficult to slay just about anything without suffering so much as a scratch. I heard that some dwarves even use my shields as weapons instead of more traditional ones. Can't blame them. Of course the real feat here is managing to die while wearing armor I've made. That takes special levels of incompetence.

Also, forget anything positive I might have said about the former overseer. Ever since he stepped down he's been hiding somewhere, probably drinking, and shirking his duties as member of the militia. Well, back to the forges for me. I'd like to take a longer break, but nobody said being the most important dwarf in the fortress was easy.

Charlie72 wrote :-

LOG:CHARLIE72:SCIENCE TEAM LEADER
5-15-265

Requests left unanswered.
Possible purge in effect.
Post note taken down.
Jabor's corpse stolen for autopsy.
Oath of secrecy in effect...

For now...

I can wait.

Mahoshonen wrote :-

Diary of Mahoshonen

My recent mood has gifted me with creativity that I had never even imagined possessing. Some how I must use it to help save our fortress-no. That is too much to ask. I see the carvings on the stone wall. What I must do is create something that anyone who discovers it,be it dwarf, elf, human or *gulp* arrogant one, will be so moved by it that they will memorialize it, preserving the greatness of of civilization even as it vanishes. I shall work on it so long as I have my facilities, and find someone else to pass it onto when I am no longer of this earth.

Such a work requires a fitting name. I can only think of one...





GEMCLOD: THE MUSICAL
By Mahoshonen

Leal wrote :-

Journal of Leal, Leatherworker

Our overseer has ordered leather armor to be made for the military, I will not let her down. While surely I put the utmost effort into my crafts, I'm setting aside the best hides and slowly working on making the absolute best set of leather armor for our champion Enzer. It will fit snugly between her body and steel armor, cushioning any blows from a mace or hammer. It shall be fit for a king in comfort, and yet sturdy enough for a champion, it will be my best work.

Maybe I shall give it to markus to give to her, surely that will improve his mood after his incident.