Journal of 'BMacZero' Eshtanozor, Trapper
In the Mid-Summer of 103, I was promoted to the leadership of the village Anrizigath Igathifin, "Skyscrapes the Scraped Hardiness". The impetus for this strange happening, as you may be aware, was the slaughter of most of the fortress' population at the hands of a legion of freakish undead wildlife, mostly bloated and rotted Kea and the animated skins of recently-butchered livestock, from the records. Guess the tanner wasn't on top of things, well he got what was coming to him, too, according to the records.
So now it's my responsiblity to clear out the remains (still in various states of life or death) and secure us from what may come in the future...
(Apparently I have a poor sense of empathy. This is fortunate)
Fortunate that our former leaders saw fit to install vast swathes of cleverly-concealed cage traps throughout the grounds. The remaining Kea have been trapped (except for the one smashed to bits by the carpenter, Cerol. I would congratulate him, but he looks like he might snap at any moment. What can I say, I'm an engineer, not a shrink). I've issued standing orders that if it's dead and not a dwarf, it gets tossed off the tower into a shallow but secure and conveniently placed pit. This proved more difficult than anticipated, as many of the bits are no longer positively identifiable. I think I'm going to let the plebs sort that one out.
I am now surveying and securing the bounds of the fortress from future attack. I've ordered ramps removed and a drawbridge installed before the aerial trade depot. Fortunately the sky is not near so dangerous as the dead - the manager and local union leader, Nil Bomrektathtat, fell five floors during the removal of the present fixed bridge but broke only her right hand and a few ribs. Our workers are still in quite sad shape, and more die each day from grievous wounds inflicted by the dead. I've stopped being surprised when a dwarf I saw yesterday no longer appear on the timesheets.
All hands are still busy today sorting the carnage throughout the halls and fields. Some have begun work to secure the walls.
My plans now are to order a few skilled workers to begin carving some trinkets from the bones of our foes and encrusting them with gems to trade to the humans when they arrive. Actually, I'm not sure which bones are which at this point, but that's irrelevant. Also, we have none who are skilled in these trades. Well, they can learn.
I plan to personally engage in training some of these captive boars. There are nearly a dozen of them making a perpetual commotion (an annoyance) and stink (I've ceased to care) in the large dining hall cage. They will make a fine source of meat, a commodity which has been quite absent for some months.
It is now autumn.
The humans arrived in the late summer - with a large force of goblins on their heels. Olin was still linking the bridge (myself standing directly behind him, threatening to feed him to the Kea if he didn't work faster) as they poured up the ramps. Almost before he was finished, I seized the lever, and the bridge was raised. Goblins soared across the depot like...goblins, I guess, smacking into the opposite wall, unconsious. Unfortunately, so did one of the human's wagons. They refused to even see our goods, despite the fact that we had rescued them from certain death. I turned them right back out - I think we all know how that went for them.
Now that the walls are firm, let the fun begin.