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"Well", said the demon, wringing, as always its hands in dismay, "well, it started just like any other day. Same as any other day since time before time began. Which may sound odd, but believe m-" "I'm not sure I can in general" I said "but, on that one particular point, I have heard similar accounts from others. Please continue."

"Oh, there are others here from the land before time?" More wringing. The only thing put through more wringers than those hands is my own weary soul. "I should like to me-" "If you please, I think the land before time stopped being relevant after its first time around." Unforgivably brusque on my part to be sure but the whammy of whinging with wringing were working on me.  "Let's focus on the here and now if you could be so kind."

"Ah, well, myself and some of my frien... well, colleagu-... work acquaintances were going through the daily motions and we suddenly had the oldest feeling of time slowing to a crawl. Then one of them, I think it was Airk, said that the bearded fools had opened a path to the surface." Well, this certainly sounded like a digbeard thing to do. "So we made a rush for it. It was smooth oozing at first but then we ran into a bunch of giant spider. Not the usual demon types but the hairy, webby kind. Next thing I know they start spraying webs everywhere. I tripped and fell into this cage. Could be worse though; old Fraid took a web to his face and blundered into a giant sawblade. Kinda exploded. Just went "Pop" and then he was nowhere and everywhere if you get my drift." I nodded politely though, be frank, the only drift I was getting from this creature was his foul odor. That said, his retelling did indeed match prior observations of my own, which is a remarkable feat of honesty for a creature such as itself. And here I was hoping for some brief respite of ennui by being able to laugh at obvious falsehoods; this creature must lack the imagination even for that. "That does indeed clear things up though I'm not sure why you said it was a long story." "Oh, my, no, no, no. That was six months ago so that's just the intro for my story." 

Next time: Whinland Saga or The Lord of the Wrings.

I ventured close to the cage and was greeted with a nasally cry. "I'LL GRIND YOUR BONES TO MAKE MY BREAD". Ever polite and willing to give a new... let's go with... acquaintance the benefit of the doubt, I replied, "I beg your pardon?" "I'LL. GRIND. YOUR. BONES. TO. MAKE. MY. BREAD." "Indeed. I thought that was what you said. Unleavened or have you some powder in that cage?" "What?" "The bread. Are you intending on hard biscuits or something more sophisticated?"
This left the beast flummoxed since I doubt it had much in the way of a refined palate. Bread was something that I had no real personal experience with before the footrest but all civilized beings are familiar with it through birds who are great fans of that particular foodstuff. They were always praising it to the heavens that they descend from; I once knew a sparrow who had claimed to have sampled wide varieties of it from across the entire world. Counterinituitively, she often insisted that rockclads, of all things, were the best bakers and attributed it to them not having much else to look forward to in life. Though, to be fully honest, I've never yet met a bird who didn't considered him-or-herself to be the world's greatest living authority on baked goods.
Since arriving at this mixing pot of venality, vanity, and violence though, I have sampled a bit of those wares myself. Digbeards make it in the oddest fashion; they start with flour, which I understand is the customary and universal ingredient. The flour is made by taking something and grinding it into a dust; usually some straggly weed or another. The next process is to add something to the flour and then baking it to make biscuits. Something here can be taken to mean almost anything so long as it is roughly edible and some things that probably should not be. Cheeses, fruits, milk, fermented beverages, small vermin, medium vermin, larger vermin, meats, fats, undocumented sundries; the world's is a digbeard baker's oyster when it comes to bread ingredients and it is not impossible that the shell will be tossed in itself for flavor. At the very least, ground up for lightly dusting the top of said biscuits. I witnessed this first hand when my blueclad was apparently temporarily press-ganged into working in that field because of a footrest shortage of qualified laborers.
These biscuits are, on the whole, surprisingly edible and I am not above sneaking one from time to time. They'd never notice anyway since the digbeards often make them in ridiculously large quantities. Do watch those biscuits made with fermented beverages though as too many of those will give you the hobblegobbles as Great Aunt Matilda was wont to say.
The pointed-ear folk bread, medo I think it is called, is one that much is made of, particularly by smaller varieties of birds, but I cannot say much for it myself. It seems to barely make an impression especially when set next to the digbeard variety; I should not be surprised if the latter dent a stone slab in large enough quantities by sheer weight. I suppose the taller folk almost make some attempt or another at it but I've never encountered any of it to say.

Next time: Bread? Seriously? After almost two ye-

By the method previously described, the digbeards have assembled a motley assortment of caged beasties that they have been temporarily storing in a small area nearby cleared off for just that purpose. As a general rule, I avoid closing with that sea of cages. Even by footrest standards, the smell is just appalling but it pales in comparison to the language, who roils the air constantly. Such vulgarities that there is no real point in trying to engage them in polite, intelligent conversation. Or even other forms of conversation; though I will admit to watching, from afar but with delight, an attempt by Eydri, which actually managed to silence the mob for a while. I was not close enough to hear his side of it but it was apparently enough to stun them into a temporary vituperative desistance. That or they suffered a collective, massive stroke from the sheer stupidity. I have spoken with Eydri before you remember. The all-too-brief quiet was simply delicious and, even more delightfully, is replicated every time they see him approach. Eydri rarely comes down here since navigating a steep stairwell with those heads is an understandable challenge but the other animals try to talk him into coming down more often.

As time marches slowly on, the regions the demons can emerge from diminish and the ensemble begins to shrink as the cages are taken elsewhere. The digbeards have constructed several areas for them up above where the cages can, by some trick of their foul digbeard magic, be opened from a distance and allow the inhabitant to stroll around. Some of these areas are behind thick walls of clear rock so that the digbeards can gape at them and jabber on. Others have been dropped into narrow shafts on the far outside edge of the footrest that ring it in a great circle. The purpose of this, I cannot guess. Perhaps they fear someone digging into the footrest from without and these demons are unwitting guardd- no, that is too stupid even for the digbeards to imagine.

The crowd dwindles and then one day, only a single cage remains. I cannot fathom the reason that it is left; perhaps the inhabitant is one that they do not feel the need for. Whether because they have a sufficiency of that type to gawk at or because they are generally unimpressed with his kind. He looks rather like a weasel that has been walked over by a herd of yaks. I believe that I shall attempt to engage him in conversation soon; solitude might have softened him.

Next time: Woozle wozzle or I didn't do it.

Items are scrambled about wildly, the visiting caravan's goods were also spread all over, and I was able to pick them up. Most buildings seem intact (Missing only a masterwork cabinet and coffer, from what I can tell).

Are they showing up in the stock screen?

If so, they could be anywhere on the map including the caverns if you've opened them or even underwater.

Perspective, yes, that's the word I want to use here, perspective is a funny thing. If you were to ask me, I would be ever so certain that recent events covered a span of, at minimum, a few years. "More than the tusks on the face but less than the legs below" as Old Uncle Everfort used to say; he'd never say three, you understand, because of a slight speech impediment he had. Since he went to all that trouble to come up with a way to not say the dreaded word, he would often go out of his way to group things into sets of three. He would never say his own name for the same reason. Grandmother used to tease him terribly about it; Errwhuhfwoht I think she called him. The old girl could be quite vicious when she wanted to be.

At any rate, I have been assured that the events of earlier this afternoon lasted no more than a matter of mere seconds and that, if anything, we actually would have gained almost exactly an hour rather than losing time if indeed years had passed. Something about different time zones, whatever those are, and the passage of the seasons relative to the alignment of the stars and I'm not certain what all else. I remain unconvinced but the same source assures me that dragons are an absolute authority on this sort of thing. Of course, I've always been assured that dragons were aware of time before time existed somehow. You'd be surprised how much authority the ability to breathe fire can lend any statement.

When last I left off, I believe that I was telling of a tuskstick going downstairs. I'm not entirely certain what he did down there since my attention was soon drawn to the other digbeards arriving on my level. Level of the footrest, mind you, there's not a digbeard alive on my intellectual and cultural level. Whatever he did, it was soon accomplished since he returned with a great deal of satisfaction.

Now, you have to understand that I'm not entirely certain what happened or why it happened. I can only relay things as I directly observed or recalled directly observing. I will consult my colleagues and see if a more complete narrative emerges. But enough dilly-dallying.

One of them eventually separated from the herd and headed downstairs. As is their habit from time to time, he played with a small stick with a round rock attached. I cannot recall if I have described this game before so I might as well do so now. The game is ever the same and involves merely moving a stick back and forth. Sometimes this is done but once and at others, it is down in rapid succession. Various noises always accompany these actions; sometimes, it resembles an extended peal of thunder and sometimes it sounds like a herd of rhinoceroses wandering around. Either way, digbeard laughter is the most common result with thin layers of dust covering everything in sight being a distant second.

I believe that this was the first time I ever saw the direct result of said play; the digbeards had created several clear floors out of stone and you could see down a considerable distance. It was rather, and I admit sadly, underwhelming since it simply opened the trapdoor that had earlier been the recipient of some angry pummeling by creatures unknown. The result of that was far more impressive however since a vast variety of demons erupted onto that patch of ground. Have you ever seen a hornet's nest struck by a rock thrown by a mischievous monkey? The overall effect was quite similar.

I do not know what the demons expected exactly since there were no targets of value on that level or even a digbeard for that matter. I doubt that even these misbegotten lunatics would remain standing around in the midst of a horde of demons. I have to say that the sight was impressive though it hardly seemed to make the expected impression on the crowd around me. They laughed and pointed and, upon being noticed, even began to wave. I suppose having distance and two thick layers of clear stone gives one confidence that would not exist otherwise.

I believe that one of them noticed the digbeards waving at him. I'll never forget the expression. I sincerely hope that you never have to see the facial expressions of a tick demon, or, indeed, any foul creature from the depths. For one thing, it's hard to interpret anything with those ghastly features. I believe that it was surprise but it could have been angry, happiness, or mild indigestion. Whatever it was, I'll carry that with me to the end of my days.

I got a good look at those features because that was when IT happened. There was the distinctive loud click of the stick and round rock towards the middle of the room and the various trees on the level below us disappeared. Not cut down or fell over, mind you, but disappeared. If that was the fourth oddest thing I'd seen that day, I could go to the Burial Ground a happy elephant.

The trees disappeared and then time froze for me. I had the distinct sensation such that you have with a leg in the air but with all four legs at once. Floating off the ground I suppose is how I'd describe it; possibly that is what that jumping nonsense is all about, but, being an elephant, I'll not experiment in such shenanigans to find out.

So, the sensation of not being on solid footing and things beginning to freeze in place began. If you were to tell me that the universe itself had strained to comprehend the events at hand and had nearly collapsed before figuring out a way to cope, I would believe it without hesitation. After that horrible interval of compressed years, things... I cannot bring myself to describe the situation as reverting to normal. I've spoken before about the weird sensation of time while dreaming but this was no dream. I would say it was a nightmare and stomp my feet for a dramatic sting but that would be trite. Let me say that time started back up again and go from there.

Time started back up again and I had the sensation that the floor below me was rising and carrying the entire footrest up to the surface. I realized after a brief second that quite the opposite was happening, but on the floor below that. I happened to glance over at the face of the tick demon I had noticed previously. This expression was quite easy to figure out; it was the face of a being who looked into the Eyes of Utter Madness and could only cope with the most foul of curses.

In other words, it's the same expression I have every time I look in a pool of water. The expression of one who has come into contact with the digbeard. That tick demon is lucky though since his experience ended after only that brief encounter. Though I suppose it was less of an encounter with the digbeards and more a direct encounter with the floor of the entire level above him followed by the floor directly below him and the floor below that as well. The dust still hasn't settled even now but I doubt that there were any survivors. I expect that there isn't a living thing left beneath our feet.

I had always heard rumors of dark, terrifying things lurking beneath the soil but no horror story yet imagined can encompass the insane designs of the humble digbeard.

Next time: The Footrest Fell or Time Stamps Ever Onward.

But you can't get those on embark...

You can if you add USE_ANY_PET_RACE to the dwarven entity file which also gives you the option of importing Giant Cave Spiders.

Beards go below the snout, not above it.  Killer mustache.

Look past the mustache; it has hair on its chinny chin chin and is also rocking some pretty awesome sideburns.

Well known and well loved glitch where dwarves missing one arm will equip multiple items in the same hand. You can do this in Adventure Mode to have thousands of items in the same hand.

You can do this with both arms by just continually taking things out of your backpack. If you have a bin containing an artifact, you can create infinite clones of that artifact by continually taking them out of the bin. The minute you drop them, they vanish though.