User:Dark T Zeratul/TreatyflamesPart2

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JOURNAL OF SAKZUL ZEGOLTAR, MASTER JEWELCRAFTSMAN
LEADER OF ILRALKESHAN, THE FORTRESS OF TREATYFLAMES
SUCCESSOR TO ONUL OTHOSSHEM
RECOVERED FROM THE BROKER'S OFFICE OF TREATYFLAMES

Year 208

Seventeenth of Limestone, 208

Today, the remaining dwarves appointed me leader. This wasn't done by diplomatic decision, but rather a sort of general feeling amongst the few survivors that as the oldest remaining dwarf I should lead them in these troubled times. And what times they are...

Perhaps I should start at the beginning. The Fortress of Treatyflames was founded in the year 206 by an expedition of seven dwarves from Becorrovod known as the Twinkling Spears. I myself arrived with several other migrants during the month of Slate, 207. Since then, my experience here can best be described as a nightmare.

Between Granite and Hematite of the year 208, goblin raiding parties attacked repeatedly and mercilessly, reducing our numbers by almost half before we drove them off. Soon after, we ran out of food, and have been attempting to survive through a crippling famine these past three months. Most starved to death, including our leader, Onul Othosshem. Without him, everything collapsed. We ran out of coffins, so were forced to pile our dead outside the fortress. Even the arrival of ten new migrants did little to lift our spirits, and soon they too were feeling as miserable and hopeless as the rest of us.

Within a month, five more dwarves starved to death, including all but one of the Twinkling Spears. The remaining dwarf, Reg Morulothos, became prone to fits of rage, picking fights with random dwarves and smashing random things, including most of his room.

During the middle of the month of Limestone, something in him just... Snapped. For the past two days, he's been rampaging throughout the fortres, mercilessly attacking everything that crossed his path. First the animals, and then other dwarves. He slaughtered three of the new migrants the first day. The next, he attacked and severely mangled the poor metalcrafter that arrived last month, leaving her lying unconscious and barely alive in a pool of her own blood before chasing after a kitten. Some might call it a mercy that he returned later to finish her off, with the state he had left her in. With all of us so weak from hunger, no one was able to stop him.

Today, shortly after I was appointed leader in this time of crisis, the caravan from Becorrovod arrived. Thus far Reg's rampage has been confined to the lower levels, and they are as yet unaware of what has transpired.

And now, I am the new leader. I have ordered what dwarves still live to take our old clothes, goblin armor, and crafts to the depot in the hopes that we can perhaps trade for food, and weapons to defend ourselves from future goblin assaults. If we can live that long...

Twenty-First of Limestone

Reg killed three more of the new migrants today, as well as several animals. Eventually he chased a kitten up the stairs and towards the depot... The caravan guards were swift, and cut him down almost immediately. Thus did the last of the Twinkling Spears die: a murderous psychopath who slaughtered his own kin. As tragic as it is, we all knew it was the only way this would end. There are now only nine of us left: four migrants, myself, and the four other stout dwarves who survived the famine.

Twenty-Seventh of Limestone

I think our troubles may finally be over. With just the two bins of goblin armor that we scavenged, I was able to trade for food, ale, weapons, picks, and even some metal bars. I also gave the traders Onul Othosshem's journal to take back to Becorrovod; they will need to know back in the mountainhome what has transpired here.

Fifteenth of Sandstone

I've laid out plans for the construction of a well. With all the goblin attacks, I've decided that if we're to survive we must be able to be entirely self-sufficient within the fortress. Unfortunately, the project is grand in scale, and I am unsure if we have the dwarfpower to complete it. What's more, the migrants we were expecting to come this season never arrived. I overheard some of the caravan guards talking earlier, and caught the words "migrants" and "too nervous," which means news of the goblins probably has reached them. I do hope that there are at least a few dwarves out there willing to brave the danger, since there's no way we can survive out here with what few remain.

Eleventh of Timber

At last, construction has begun on the well shaft. I and Goden Rakustidok the glassmaker took up the picks left by the late Reg and Sazir so that our fortress may endure. Great Goddess Domas willing, Treatyflames will yet become a center of trade and prosperity in the years to come.

Thirteenth of Moonstone

The well shaft has been entirely dug out. Now we just need to make a few more mechanisms for the floodgate so that the river doesn't flood the fortress when we tap it, and retrieve the gems I uncovered during the digging, and we'll be set. Incidentally, I must make a note to be more careful during future fortress expansion projects. I inadvertently trapped myself at the bottom of the soon-to-be reservoir for a number of days and would likely have died of thirst had I not been able to fashion a crude stairway up the side of the shaft. HA! Now wouldn't that just be the definition of irony? Dying of thirst during the construction of a well.

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