From the journal of noble hero Psychotic, saviour of the Dwarven people...

Summer, 525



Here I am, in my brand new office. I say office, it's more like... a hole. In the wall. Fantastic. You can also see DK slaving away in the kitchens, preparing delightful cooked treats for us all.

Pardon me for being a traditionalist, but isn't Summer supposed to be, oh, I don't know, not a snow-filled abomination where your piss doesn't end up freezing to your mighty dwarven staff the moment you let fly? It's still cold. smurf me. The rest of my life is going to be spent here.



Lonny BoB and Pike have finished the ditch at the front of the fort. That should keep most nasties at bay...unless they have the ability to jump more than 5 feet, but if Dwarves can't do it, then surely no other species can! There is a drawbridge that can be raised in times of great peril.



They've now begun work on the Great Hall. This shall be a thing of beauty and I will be remembered for this for years to come!

The lever that controls the bridge was installed in the Great Hall. The miners have also discovered a beautiful scarlet covered stone called red tourmaline. I used the entirity of our supply to have this message engraved on the walls in huge letters, for the attention of certain future fortress runners who will remain nameless:

Is the fortress under attack ? Pull the lever in the Great Hall. There is a lever in the Great Hall. Pull it. Pull the lever in the Great Hall if the fortress is under attack. Pull. The. Lever. Pull the lever (it's in the Great Hall). Did you know there's a lever in the Great Hall? No? PULL THE smurfER. STOP READING THIS. PULL THE smurfING LEVER THAT IS IN THE smurfING GREAT HALL YOU GOD DAMN USELESS CLOD OF DIRT OR WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE! LONNY. smurfING. BOB. PULL. THE. GOD. DAMN. LEVER.

I think that adequately conveyed the message.


---

Two great horrors converged on our fortress today.



You might not be able to tell what it is from this picture, but that, my friends, is a herd of what Quin identified as "Capy-Baras". I have drawn a picture of them:



No doubt these are bloodthirsty monstrosities of the north, out to feed on our bones. You better believe I pulled the god damn lever. I aint going down in history as the guy who lost a fortress to Capy-Baras.

However, the Capy-Baras turned away and began to head towards something else coming over the horizon...



IMMIGRANTS!

I had a most heartening conversation with one, a mohawked little dwarf by the name of Iceglow.

"Yeah yeah" he said. "Me name's Iceglow, innit? I'm from LANDAHN! Let me hug your knees!"
"London? Is that some poncey little Elven town?"
"Nah nah, see in Spoonproblems you settle your disputes with levers, whereas in LANDAHN we settle them with crossbows!"
"So you're a marksdwarf? Excellent. We've been plagued by "Capy-Baras" lately."
"Nawwwww pawl naaaaaawwww. I clean da fish! I clean fish at HMV in LANDAHN the busiest street in the Solitary Axe!"
"Alright. Have fun getting your fish out of the frozen river you useless sack of turnips."
"Yeah, well, I shagged your mum. Hehehe!"

I hope he dies first.

Along with him we had the equally useful I'm my own MILF, who makes cheese, Værn, who shears sheep, and eternal essence, who is a tanner. Seeing as how we have no cows to milk, no sheep to shear and no sunlight from which you can get a tan, I put them on commode duty. Useless smurfers. Marshall Banana, a stoneworker, also arrived with them. She was the only moderately useful one.

I can see why they were sent here. 5 more worthless mouths to feed. And winter is coming. We're all going to die.