User:Dark T Zeratul/Glentreaties

Journal of Brewmaster Vegdrasil
17th of Sandstone, 1050

Exiled. Can you believe it? Me. Vegdrasil. Brewmaster of Shorast Nar, exiled because of some stupid whiny elf bastard who got all uppity because the ale keg I gave him was made of wood "cruelly slain by cave-dwelling savages." How was I to know that he was the prince? Anyway, since King Outhalast apparently really wanted to make good diplomatic ties with those tree-dwelling pricks, he's thrown me in with the latest expeditionary force. Of course, everyone knows that these so-called "expeditions" to construct new fortresses are really just a way of getting rid of the undesirables. Most of the fortresses are never heard from again, and those that are usually don't bear good news. The caravan to Angelpeace reported nothing but bones only two years after its founding. The caravan to Bronzedawns never even returned at all. And Headshoots? Well, the less said about Headshoots the better, really.

So anyway, this batch of ingrates that I'm stuck with is a real piece of work. Our self-appointed leader, Brumbol, hates our mason, Id, who hates our cook, Cali. Our planter, Sarvesh, is a kleptomaniac. Our carpenter Anga seems to be made entirely out of muscle, and I'm fairly certain our engineer, Nil, is secretly planning our deaths. I swear, if I live through this, it will be a miracle.

1st of Granite, 1051
Well, we've finally arrived at this godforsaken place. A river valley at the edge of the East Swamp, in the foothills of the Mountains of the Invisible Tower... This is where we've been told to build our fortress. Snow still covers much of the ground, and the river (more of a stream, really) looks like it's frozen solid. There aren't even any wild animals around that I can see, although depending how you look at it that's not necessarily a bad thing. If there were elephants here, it would be... Bad. There was another fortress that had problems with elephants. It ended with a single half-crazed warrior walking away from a barren field filled with naught but bones and ash, and a dire warning to never go there again.

I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that I was stuck here, then turned to our "fearless leader" Brumbol. I figure if he's gonna call himself leader then dammit I'm going to make sure he acts like one. "What shall we call it?" I asked. "Glentreaties," he replied after a moment. Wow, with a name like that, we will surely strike fear into the hearts of our potential enemies. Which, by the way, are pretty fucking numerous. I snuck a look at the records before we left, and apparently there are known serpent men and antmen colonies in the area. We're also very near to the territory of a particularly vicious goblin kingdom, not to mention the elves who I'm sure are going to be THRILLED that the dwarf who pissed off their prince is living in the area.

There's absolutely no way we have enough alcohol to get me through this. Once we get a farm set up, priority ONE for me is building a still.

1st of Slate, 1051
A month into spring and the snow still hasn't melted yet. We also had an oh-so-fun snowstorm that lasted about a week and a half. In that month, we've managed to accomplish all of digging a single tunnel and a trade depot. Brumbol at least managed to demonstrate that he's not a complete tactical idiot, using the stream (brook, actually, now that I've had a closer peek at it) as a moat and walling off the sides to funnel our inevitable foes into a single chokepoint. Still no sign of any wildlife beyond a sizable hoard of marmots, but I refuse to let my guard down for even a second. If some sort of horrible forgotten beast doesn't kill me, I wouldn't be entirely surprised if my compatriots did...

11th of Slate, 1051
While most of us have been digging out temporary storage for food and goods, Brumbol asked Anga to dismantle the wagon and chop down some trees, a task she has taken to with a disturbing amount of enjoyment. In other news, the brook just unfroze. Not a gradual thaw, it was simply ice one moment and then FWOOSH. Water. I hate this place.

7th of Felsite, 1051
We've almost finished hauling everything across the valley and into our fortress. Now Brumbol wants us to make craftsdwarf workshops and start churning out the little rock figurines and toys that everyone loves so much. I must admit, I've always found the crafts we imported from the fortresses to be gaudy and poorly constructed, but I suppose now that I'm on the other end of things I can see the appeal of trade goods that are cheap and easy to make from an overabundant resource. In other news, Brumbol has officially made Anga our militia commander... And our chief medical dwarf. I dare not question this decision, for fear that he might declare me insane and ask Anga to practice her "art" to "cure" me. Truly these are terrifying times we live in. I fear for the safety of any dwarf who goes to war with Anga and gets injured.

5th of Hematite, 1051
Well it's summer now, and Brumbol seems to have reached the limits of his creativity. We've dug out stockpiles for everything, but he seems unsure of how to proceed. He has the miners digging out ore veins OUTSIDE THE FORTRESS because he doesn't know what to do INSIDE of it. I try telling him to just "keep going down" but it's like talking to a brick wall. Morale is dwindling rapidly and I suspect there will be bloodshed soon if something isn't done to raise our spirits.

22nd of Hematite, 1051
Half a dozen migrants and their pets showed up yesterday. Just what we need, another bunch of useless dwarves taking up space, eating our food, and drinking our MY booze. Meanwhile, Brumbol is still managing to do very, very little as expedition leader, aside from appointing Anga to be the sheriff as well. I swear, if things continue like this, I will not be held responsible for my actions.

3rd of Malachite, 1051
Well I'll be damned. Those inbred miscreant immigrants are actually DOING THINGS. One of them build a carpenter's workshop and is starting to make beds (at long last, no more sleeping on the floor!) and some of the rest went straight for the craftsdwarf's workshops and began churning out trinkets that, when the caravan from the mountainhome shows up next season, can be traded for more booze to keep me blissfully hammered while the fortress goes to hell around me.

9th of Galena, 1051
Our "brilliant" leader, Brumbol, just decided it would be a good idea to mine completely through the bottom of a rock pillar next to the river, heedless of the fact that there would be nothing left to hold up the top, which promptly fell and seriously injured him. His left arm is rather badly broken, and I'm pretty sure the big rock lying on top of his chest is causing some internal bleeding. A small part of me wonders if he'll survive under Anga's "tender" ministrations... And most of me just doesn't really care.

18th of Galena, 1051
After lying on the ground for three days, Brumbol finally picked himself up, washed off the blood and gravel in the river, and ran out into the valley and up the hills. He crawled back four days after that, climbed into bed, and promptly passed out. With our leader thusly incapacitated, I've taken over leadership in the interim. And by my father's beard, I will see this fortress thrive!

11th of Galena, 1051
It's autumn now, and the last month has been going well. Brumbol woke up and has agreed to let me run things behind the scenes while he takes all the credit, which I suppose isn't TOO terrible. Besides, during my phantom leadership the fortress has seen a massive increase in productivity. We're mining out massive deposits of coal and magnetite ore a few levels down, and we've already constructed a forge and smelter to begin turning it into weapons and armor. Our stockpile of crafts is steadily growing every day, and I remain confident that we will be able to acquire everything we need from the caravan, which is due in about two months. I'm also seeing how our growing animal population might eventually become a problem; I'm ordering the construction of a butcher's shop and a tanner's shop to deal with it before it gets out of control.

18th of Sandstone, 1051
The brook froze today. Since I know from experience that it won't unfreeze for about another six months, I'm taking this opportunity to dig through the ice to get at some coal lining the brook that was previously unavailable. We should have plenty of time to dig it out and build up a wall before it unfreezes and floods the fortress. In other news, Sarvesh came back screaming that he was attacked by a mountain goat. I've had Brumbol ask Anga to deal with it. Since Brumbol's hands are still broken, rendering him completely unfit for labor of any kind, I've asked him to help her, mostly out of curiosity as to how it will play out.

10th of Timber, 1051
All this time I've been just a little bit scared of Anga. My fear was misplaced. I should have been scared of Brumbol. While Anga dallied around the fortress trying to gather up some armor, Brumbol left the fortress with no weapons or armor and charged screaming at the mountain goat, knocked it over, and then laid into it WITH HIS TEETH. With no weapons, and no armor, and no training, Brumbol killed a mountain goat, by himself, without even a scratch. Covered in the blood of his fallen enemy, he has gone off to hunt down and destroy the rest of them. I can only hope that I can successfully direct this unholy strength at our foes, and that he doesn't decide to kill the rest of us instead.

18th of Timber, 1051
The caravan finally arrived today. As Brumbol has been transformed from a brilliant leader into a psychotic goat slayer, I have appointed Kethry as our broker, mostly on the basis that she's very good at making us laugh. The rest of the dwarves are hauling our massive collection of crafts to the trade depot, hopefully earning us more food for the coming year.