I have been dispatched on behalf of His Majesty Kivish Likotor to inspect the nascent fortress of The Adorable Apples of Evisceration, run by some outfit calling themselves the Prairiedogs of Doom. The residents seem to think I was sent to replace the former leader. Before I had a chance to explain myself, I was dragged into the 'fortress' and given the 'tour.'
My initial impression of this place is one of insanity. There's a giant pile of rocks at the entrance, with dwarves emerging from a hole in the ground and diligently adding to said giant rock pile. Evidently they're working on some sort of burial grounds.
I also passed a rather ominous-looking trade depot. The interior of the 'fortress' is not much better. Squeezing past a trio of chained canines and a weeping farmer (it appears I have come during some sort of famine), the corridors are cramped and narrow. This is in clear violation of the Dwarven Fire Code, but I merely wrote it into my report without saying a word. The dining facilities are up to scratch, at least. Running water is readily accessible via four wells. I noted my approval in my inspection report.
I was eagerly shoved down several flights of stairs, and shown some of the works the dwarves were most proud of. There was a statue garden, and a set of tombs constructed by a pair of seemingly narcissistic rulers. I noted "leadership has misplaced priorities" in my inspection report.
Among the dwarves' masterpieces were a giant cave spider silk bag and a mechanism. While I made sure that the mechanism complied with the Dwarven Standard Mechanism Specification, I couldn't help but notice an image of a dwarf being struck down by a sturgeon. Upon further inquiry, I learned that this was based on an "isolated incident" and the dwarves stressed that the fish were "totally harmless."
After a brief pass through the workshop area and the myriad of store rooms, I concluded that I had seen enough. I sought out the fortress' manager, Udil Rovodanam, to collect information regarding the fortress' stores and military. I was not surprised to find all he had were estimates, and that the 'fortress' was utterly defenseless, save for the three aforementioned canines. Without knowledge of what the food stores are, I cannot determine how dire the famine is. After two years, the fortress only has a population of 24.
Things look grim indeed. I have completed my report for submission to the Ministry of Dwarven Affairs, but have decided I will not send it. Instead, I see this as an opportunity for promotion. If I can turn this place around, surely it's worth a cushy office job in the capital!
It's scarcely been three weeks since I've assumed command, but already I think I've bitten off more than I can chew. A few of those prissy elven traders came by. Although it was explained to me that they could be trapped, I opted to instead trade with them, getting rid of several boxes of junk crafts.
It seems the previous ruler had issued orders to clear rocks out of several of the rooms, as well as to beautify the already-opulent tomb of the one called MasterSqueak. Since there are more pressing issues, I have put some of these tasks on hiatus. I had scarcely begun to restructure the fortress's agriculture and commence some new excavations, when--
AMBUSH!
A band of spear and wrestler goblins stealthily descended upon our relatively defenseless fortress. They were discovered by the cat Mosus Tulonerush, who bravely led them away from the entrance, eventually being run down and impaled by the pikes of the goblins. We shall give the furry little martyr a decent burial. His frantic meowing alerted the rest of us, and as such I was able to order all dwarves inside. I quickly cobbled together a ragtag army from our three axe-bearing woodcutters, posting them at the entrance alongside the dogs and wolf. Mafol Ustuthmeb, one of the woodcutters, was able to sneak in and pick off one of the spear goblins that had been left behind while the rest chased after the cat. After Mosus was finished off, the goblins made for the entrance. Once within sight, our ragtag army moved to attack the goblins, with Dodok Ducimnazom leading the charge. Alas, he was quickly surrounded and stabbed to death by the goblins before accomplishing much. The other two dwarves fared better. Tun Dedukstastot efficiently executed one of the pike-wielding spear goblins. Mafol Ustuthmeb, however, saw fit to systematically dismember two more goblins, scattering goblin body parts all over the hillside. A goblin head now rests atop the trade depot. One spear goblin did manage to escape, after breaking Mafol's left arm. With any luck, his story of the grisly death of his comrades will deter further goblin incursions. One can only hope.
The new ruler was foolish enough to gather the woodcutters and charge.
Yeah, not like we have war dogs at the door to help with this situation. But no, now we are left with a dead woodcutter and another one stuck in bed with a broken arm.
And apparently I have a girlfriend. Must have been drunk.
Wonder if I can dispose of her? Blame it on the fish...
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