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[Dante]

Journal of Kisame the Herbalist-Armourer, 11 Obsidian

I got a beesting today. I barely noticed; I'm walking on sunshine, or possibly swimming in it. Squadron Leader is expecting, and I was already personally ecstatic that the fortress is going so well.

Almost all the walls are nicely smoothed now. We have our wells up and running, a proper dining room, a hospital, individual rooms – a bit pokey, but not bad – and we're sorting out the massive piles of stuff that litter every surface.

This is the good life, all right. Everyone at Rockfalls the Depths of Volcanoes is as happy as can be.

[Dante]

Diary of a misbegotten migrant, some time, who knows

We dug and dug, hoping to to find some trace of Rockfalls remaining. Or rather, I dug. My companion Kib moped. I was the leader of our little two-man expedition, so it was my job to give the orders, and his job to ignore them.

Goblin scouts scuttled around, and we burrowed under the sand, waiting them out in extreme discomfort. Human traders appeared, and when they refused to take us on to the mountainhomes, we stole food from their caravan.

There has been sleet one day, sandstorms the next. Even now, as I write this, the -
oh god.

OH GOD.

Quicklynow,hereclosesthediaryofEturN-

[Dante]

Cook's Log [by me, Yarf], 23 Obsidian

Squadron Leader (militia commander) has given birth to a boy! I'm visiting now. Squadron Leader barely seems affected by the childbirth; she's clearly itching to go back to scraping the walls smooth. Kisame, the father, is grinning fit to burst.

The boy has his mother's concave nose bridge and broad ears, and his father's amethyst eyes. The little tyke is completely aware of his surroundings, and waited patiently for us to lavish attention on him – well, his father's a kinesthetic, patient type. And the way he latched onto his mother – well, it's pretty clear he inherited her toughness, focus and willpower, too.

Well, it's good that Tuna will have a boy of basically the same age in the fortress.

On the other hand, Jitters has been giving me mysterious smiles the last few days. If it's what I think it is, I'm terrified. I'm not ready to be a father! I'm more at home with pastries than babies, better with thin mints than infants!

Hmmm... what was the kid's name again?

[Maxrmk]

Cook's Log [by me, Yarf], 23 Obsidian

Squadron Leader (militia commander) has given birth to a boy! I'm visiting now. Squadron Leader barely seems affected by the childbirth; she's clearly itching to go back to scraping the walls smooth. Kisame, the father, is grinning fit to burst.

The boy has his mother's concave nose bridge and broad ears, and his father's amethyst eyes. The little tyke is completely aware of his surroundings, and waited patiently for us to lavish attention on him – well, his father's a kinesthetic, patient type. And the way he latched onto his mother – well, it's pretty clear he inherited her toughness, focus and willpower, too.

Well, it's good that Tuna will have a boy of basically the same age in the fortress.

On the other hand, Jitters has been giving me mysterious smiles the last few days. If it's what I think it is, I'm terrified. I'm not ready to be a father! I'm more at home with pastries than babies, better with thin mints than infants!

Hmmm... what was the kid's name again?

Maxrmk please. Ive Been reading the saga since the beginning. Seriously, its an epic.

[stool]

welcome back! 

[Yoink]

Ohgod! Not a babeeee! D: *Runs and hides*

Heh, this story is still great, glad it's still going!
Loved the last migrant's diary! Keep it up!

[Dante]

Journal of Bowie the Artist, 12 Limestone 202

Perhaps childbirth will mellow Squadron Leader, or distract Goden from his bizarre interferences in the hamlet's life. Or perhaps ale will rain from the sky.

Goden ordered me to construct statues of himself in various positions – positions of authority, that is, gods above I did not want that image in my head. Meanwhile, he has McClay working on images of bogeymen. I have no idea what goes through our leader's head sometimes.



They were going to call the sprog Onol Heroclasped - a warrior's name, for a warrior's son.

Eventually, though, they decided on Maxrmk. How is it pronounced? Maxermuk? Makzirmik?

Quite an appropriate name for a child who our resident vapid jeweller foretold would be both calm and quick to anger; both self-conscious and very confident.

Still, it's good to see Tuna, Maxrmk and Stukos' two daughters playing together with the puppies.

Is it just me, or is my wife Rance looking a little larger these days?

[Dante]

Journal of Goden, Expedition Leader of the Assembly of Smiths, 25 Obsidian

Let it be recorded that 12 poults hatched today. I counted them twice.

These poults are generally being described around the fortress as 'enormous', 'fat', 'gigantic' and 'muscular'. This bodes well for future meals.

We now have 55 animals. I will inform Karakzon that some culling appears to be in order.

[Dante]

Journal of Stool the Dairy Guard, adventurer of the High Tools, 28 Obsidian 202

Fluffy Wamblers! In the dining room! On my laundry! In my hair! Everywhere! I hate spring so much! It's a curse on us for slaughtering all those dogs!

People have been complaining about the rooms being too small. There's nowhere to store a person's things. After petitioning Goden, we've managed to get the workshops moved down into the paddocks so we can expand our living space. To hell with farming. We have so many animals we won't need to grow anything for quite some time.

[Dante]

Words screamed by Kib Agiton, Berserk Metalcrafter, 1 Granite 203

I'll kill this camel!! I'll kill this camel!!!

[Dante]

Words screamed by Kib Agiton, Berserk Metalcrafter, 5 Granite 203

I'll kill this camel!!! I'll kill this camel!!!! I'll kill this camel!!!!! I'll kill this camel!!!!!!

[Dante]

Words screamed by Kib Agiton, Berserk Metalcrafter, 8 Granite 203

I'll kill this camel!!!!!! I'll

[Dante]

Cook's Log [by me, Yarf], 17 Granite 203

It's Stiric and Surray's combined birthday today. We're having the first party since we rolled in the new year in style by... well, by not doing much of anything, really. Karakzon got drunk and sang a bawdy song in the dining room. Skink-killer got drunk and fell down the stairs. Jitters fell down the stairs and then got drunk. Stool got drunk, took his clothes off and ran naked around the beehives.

So, the usual.

Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to two of the weirdest dwarves in the fortress, Stiric and Surray, may they live for many decades more at a safe distance from me.

Stiric refuses to craft anything but gold. She likes spiny dogfish leather, blood men for their gruesomeness, and three-toed cavies. She says her favourite foods are grimeling, clownfish and gutter cruor. I'm so glad I don't have any of those ingredients available. I thought grimelings were meant to be capable of speech. And who eats clownfish??? I've noticed that Stiric also talks to inanimate objects when there is a lull in the conversation. I am not making any of this up.

Surray is a beaming motherly type with two green thumbs and mud under her toenails. She once got bored of tilling the plump helmet farms and dismembered a puppy just to watch it die.

Anyway, Goden has turned up and decided to take advantage of the party atmosphere by calling a general meeting of the hamlet. This'll be fun.

[Dante]

Minutes of the First General Meeting of Idumid Amas Stodir, 17 Granite 203.
First half. Rance recording.

Goden:      Attention! Attention! I call this meeting to - where's Forumite?
McClay:      He doesn't really like coming to these sort of things.
Goden:      He's the manager! And the bookkeeper! He has to come to these sort of things, it's his job!
*There is general shrugging.*
Goden:      Somebody go and get him. Where's Bowie?
Jitters:      He's gone on break.
Goden:      Gone on break? But all he was doing was partying!
Jitters:      ...He needed a break from partying.
Goden:      Right. Fine. This is most irregular, but – ah, Forumite. Excellent.
Forumite:   Can we hurry this up?
Goden:      Let's start. Stenographer - Rance, why are you taking the minutes?
Rance:      Um, I'm an engraver?
Goden:      Forumite should be doing it, he's the bookkeeper.
McClay:      He's left again.
Goden:      Oh for Lurit's sake. Squadron Leader, go drag him back here.
*Squadron Leader leaves*
Goden:      Who's humming?
Yarf:         Um. Me.
Goden:      Stop it.
*bumping noises are heard*
Goden:      Who's making bumping noises? Oh...
Forumite:      Damn it, put me down woman.
Squadron Leader:      I will once you stop acting like a child.
Goden:         Is everybody listening now? I call this meeting to order. First order of business. The Hamlet formally recognises the birthdays of Stiric and Surray, eighty-five and eighty-nine years old today. Let the appropriate words be said.
*everybody sings 'Happy Birthday'*
Goden:      Thank you. Next order of business. What is the state of our supplies, manager?
Forumite:   Fine.
*several seconds of silence pass*
Goden:      They're fine?
Forumite:   Yep.
Goden:      What about work orders?
Forumite:   There aren't any.
Goden:      Productivity?
Forumite:   There's some of that, yep.
*several more seconds of silence pass*
Goden:      You don't have anything further to say?
Forumite:   Nope.
Goden:      Squadron Leader, let him go.
*Forumite is observed to scuttle from the room.*
Goden:      Next order of business. Unregulated hauntings. I'm opening the floor to suggestions on this topic.
Stukos the ghost:   I don't-
Goden:      Not you!
*General shouts of 'let him speak!'*
Goden (grudgingly):   Fine. The floor recognises Stukos the restless spirit.
Stukos:      I don't really want to keep haunting the place. It's been fun watching my kids grow up but I wouldn't mind a bit of peace and quiet now that they're toddlers. So I'll go, if you'll just bloody ENTOMB ME.
Goden:      We don't have the budget for coffins.
Stukos:      You have three stockpiled!
Goden:      Stockpiled for an emergency, yes.
Stukos:      My corpse is lying in a pile of gemstones in the muck on the lower floor!
Yarf:         Could be worse. It could be lying directly in the muck.
Stukos:      I won't stand for this.
Goden:      Then sit for it. Forumite, do- oh, he's gone. Stenographer?
Rance:      Yes?
Goden:      Make a note to have two dozen glass coffins constructed.
Stukos:      Thank you. Wait, glass? As in, see-through?
Rance:      TWO DOZEN?
Goden (loudly):   Next order of business. It has come to my attention that something or someone has been hunting the poultry. This will stop.
Bowie:      It's that bloody sheep that follows Jitters around.
*Several people begin to heckle.*
Jitters:      Fath Furnaceshaken wouldnae hurt a fly, any more 'n I would!
*Jitters is observed to accidentally stand on a duck, breaking its leg.*
Jitters:      Sorry.
Bowie:      You see?!
Goden:      Bowie, don't you own a wolf?
Bowie:      ...Yes?
Goden:      Which you taught to hunt?
Bowie:      ...Yes?
Goden:      And which you let roam freely in the pastures?
Bowie:      I fail to see your point.
Goden:      I submit the motion that all poultry be contained in a small area around the nestboxes, to prevent unnecessary injuries by predators or trampling.
*Goden is observed to look pointedly at Jitters.*
Squadron Leader:   Motion seconded. A vote?
Goden:      Very well. All in favour?
*Many: 'aye'.*
Goden:      Stukos, you can't vote, you're dead.
Stukos:      I literally died for this fortress, you bastard!
Goden:      We'll resolve that next, then. All against:
*Some: 'nay'.*
Goden:      The ayes have it. The motion is carried We will now hear from Stukos on whether or not ghosts should be allowed to vote.
Stukos:      I don't even care. I'm going to go sit in the magma.
Goden:      We will take a short break, and then go to our next order of business, then. Ale is available in the barrels where it always is.

[Dante]

Minutes of the First General Meeting of Idumid Amas Stodir, 17 Granite 203.
Second half. Rance recording.

Goden:   We are reconvened. Next order of business. The glass industry. We appear to have limited stone but unlimited sand. Volunteers to take up an apprenticeship under McClay?
McClay:   I don't understand why we have limited stone. Can't we just open the magma chamber, let some magma cool, and mine out chunks of it?
Goden:   Can we hear from a specialist, please.
Skink-killer:   The definition of magma is 'molten rock'. If it wasn't molten, it wouldn't be magma. If you take the 'molten' part away, it stands to reason that the 'rock' part disappears as well.
*Skink-killer the miner is observed to take a long swig from her hip flask.*
McClay:   But that doesn't...
Goden:   Anyone would think you didn't want to work glass, with that kind of attitude.
McClay:   I'm a potter.
Goden:   I can schedule you to work on the muck farm.
McClay:   Fine. But I don't understand how we can have infinite sand, either.
Goden:   Once we're done with a glass object, we'll grind it down to sand and use that. Obviously.
McClay:   Why do we need more than one glassmaker, then?
Goden:   I motion we censure McClay for his persistent questions.
McClay:   Question withdrawn.
Bowie:      Maybe Billy Bob could help make glass, since she's a jeweller? And they're kind of the same?
McClay:   They're not at all the-
Billy Bob:   Glass is sparkly!
McClay:   You don't expect-
Billy Bob:   I like glass!
McClay:   I don't believe this.
Goden:   That being resolved, we will now hear from Surray in her capacity as Chief Medical Dwarf. Officer?
Surray:   We have had six injuries this year. One sprain from a fall down the stairs, one back injury from stacking a rock on top of eight hundred other rocks, and four beestings causing severe swelling.
Stool:   Those beehives are a menace.
Kisame:   I don't understand why they got put next to the nest boxes in the first place.
Flintus the Tenth:   They all shall burn.
Goden:   Nobody is burning the beehives.
Kisame:   What about the nest boxes?
Goden:   Or the nest boxes.
Valrandir:   We can't move the beehives without damaging the combs.
Goden:   Are you peeling vegetables?
Valrandir:   Yes.
Goden:   Why?
Valrandir:   My hands aren't busy in meetings except when I'm voting.
Goden:   We will consider the matter of bees next year. Are there any other safety concerns, Surray?
Surray:   I'm worried about the little babies and the magma chamber. Don't want to see the poor little dears burned to a delicious crisp!
Goden:   New orders: Keep the magma chamber locked at all times. What about injuries amongst the animals, Surray?
Surray:   I don't tend to animals.
Goden:   I have reports that a puppy was torn apart.
Surray:   Accidents happen.
Goden:   Yes. Well. That is the scheduled part of the meeting over. Is there any other business?
Squadron Leader:   My complaints about quarters have gone unheard.
Goden:   I ordered expanded quarters for us.
Squadron Leader:   As befits a militia commander, yes. But I also bear the responsibilities of sherrif!
Goden:   I'll have a table put in the jail for you. Anything else?
Kisame:   I had to drink water yesterday!
*Cries of outrage are heard.*
Mrs Oassis:   Not in front of the children, Kisame! For shame!
Kisame:   Sorry, but it's a harsh truth!
GodenGoden:   What is the status on the fortress alcohol supply, Bookkeeper Forumite?
*Everyone: "He's gone."*
Goden:   Sod.
Valrandir:   We still have the equivalent of twenty-one standard drinks, but they're all in two barrels.
Stool:   You ordered the farms halted because we're overflowing with meat and tallow, but-
Yarf:   Oh gods! Tallow! So! Much! Tallow!
Stool:   But we need plants for booze.
Goden:   I hereby order two of the lower farm plots and three of the upper farm plots be planted and tended in the spring months to avoid this situation.
*Cheers.*
Kisame:   Thank you.
Goden:      May I declare this meeting closed?
Karakzon:   Wait! I wan' permission ter formulate an official hamlet song fer formal occasions!
Goden:      Denied. I have fourteen complaints about your singing stacked on my desk.
*Karakzon is observed to stare at Stool*
Karakzon:   You bastard!
Stool:      Oh, come off it. I wouldn't waste my time complaining about someone like you. Anyway, I could sing better through one nostril than you.
Karakzon:   Come over 'ere and say that!
Stool:      Fine. You, sir, are a-
*Squadron Leader intervenes and the meeting breaks up in disarray*