Journal of Kadol Tombquakes
23rd Malachite, 551
On patrol today, saw the strangest thing. Battered bunch o' figures walkin', on two legs fer a change, one tall and fat with no hair and a crossbow in hand, coming toward us. Damnedest thing - a whole herd of elephants stampeded away from this one lone dwarf like she was the most terrible thing they'd ever seen. Two others came in behind her, one rotund and carrying a hammer, the other skinny as a pole and ragged looking. Musta been a good 10 minutes before I realized they was dwarves.
Ain't the nearest dwarven lands full three months travel from here? Somethin' ain't right. I reported back t' Litast, 'cause as much as he's a git he still seems to be pretty good about makin' the right call in a pinch. He saw it too - one tall, fat, armed dwarf, with a couple pets leading in the others. There's something right weird about it, I says, and he agrees, and calls for Adil to forge that pick already and start digging. We'll set up an interview chamber in our new burrow and have some words with these newcomers. Try to figure why any sane dwarf would come out here.Journal of Litast Pleatsteel, Expedition Leader
23rd MalachiteThe Migrants
In my words with them I found they seem to defer to the tall one, Sibrek, who claims she is a fish dissector - though she is carrying a crossbow as her only tool. She tells me they have come from a small settlement not far from here. Learning of our presence in the area, they came to help us adapt to the harsh surroundings. Sibrek says this, while the others stutter or falter or hesitate. I find their dynamic strange - I will need to speak to the other two privately. Besides their odd hesitations, I have never seen a dwarf so large as this Sibrek, nor so hairless. I find her... unsettling.
In speaking with the others, I have learned they have some talent as an armorer and brewer, and the other as a soap-maker. I am again baffled as to how exactly this is meant to help us survive here. I sit now in my newly-dug interview chamber with the armorer, Fath Blockadephrases. He's a likeable enough fellow, but has an annoying habit of snapping his fingers when he's trying to remember something. And seems to be very, very forgetful.
As we sit, he is again trying to recall what he meant to tell me, for the tenth time. It seems very important to him. I am just about to call the interview over when he exclaims, "Oh, right! We're part o' the Basic Roughness too!"
This is incredible, of course. Our beloved civilization is fully the other side of the WORLD. What could he mean? These dwarves did not even follow the same gods we do, or any we had even heard of - with the exception of Sibrek, that is, who professed to be an ardent follower of Inod. "How is that possible?" I ask him. This only triggers another bout of head scratching and finger snapping. I adjourn our meeting and move on to the soapmaker, Olon Lancerfish. Olon stands tensely in the room (note: make some chairs) He is a jittery, timid, scrawny wreck - I cannot fathom why he would undertake such a journey or why anyone would bring him for it.
"Oh hello," he says, "I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about me. Actually, one time the other two forgot about me, by a brook we had stopped by and they had sent me for water... There were goblins there you see." What about goblins, I asked. "Oh... nothing. I just saw them. You were probably just held up by Fath's memory, right?" I nodded my assent. "That happens. He hasn't been the same since the accident." What accident, I ask. "Oh he wasn't eating well and was careless at the forge... burned himself badly. Now he's more careful."
It quickly became apparent that getting this dwarf to focus was a far more difficult task than I was up to today. But as I turned to leave, Olon shouted, "Wait! There's one thing... I need to tell you something. About Sibrek."
"What is it?" I snapped, I confess, anticipating another rambling story with no point.
"I'll only get one chance to say this." The desperation in his eyes was showing through - I could see the deep reserves of his willpower being tapped, fighting... I do not know what. "She... makes it difficult for us both. To speak. Sibrek."
"She is no dwarf."
In other events, I have drawn up a basic plan for our habitation and handed it off to Adil - She is making progress, but it can be difficult to avoid the wet in this marshy land. We will need to find a way to dig deeper, and soon. We cannot hold out forever without good solid stone.
I still do not know what to make of the words of that strange dwarf. Is he mad? Are they all? I must decide soon... they are not happy with the simple lean-to I have constructed to keep the rain off their heads.
So we have a marksman (who for whatever reason still says she's a fish dissector even though thats her only non-military skill - I suspect trickery!) who's tall, fat, hairless, and confident, and her two lackies, a talented armorer and a talented soap maker, each with very specific personality quirks.
Shall I claim some of them to Dorf and re-train as Mason & Doctor? Speak now or I'll decide myself - nothing to do today but play DF and update this