Log: Chief Engineer Griggs

[Griggs]

1st Granite, 1051

This is the log of Chief Engineer and Expedition Leader Griggs, written in the Year of our King Mosus Gomathalin One-Thousand Fifty-One. I write this on behalf of our nation The Mechanical Machine and our small group of settlers The Impervious Mine.

We've been traveling for close on a season and have finally arrived at our destination. A couple of months ago I was contacted by the Royal Settlement Company to lead an expedition north in search of valuable minerals, namely vast deposits of iron, copper, and tin. The money was good, and more wealth was promised if the whole thing should pan out. I agreed. It was only once we were all packed on the wagon that they gave us our destination.

Abysschills. A finger of workable forest and mountain butting up to and surrounded by the thick glacier layer of the northern wastes, and months north of our already chilly homeland.



We were then told that we had signed the contract and were in it for the long haul, whether we liked it or not, and it was this or the Royal Dungeon.

Bastards.

We were at least decently outfitted. Two miners, a stonemason, a farmer, and a carpenter. We lucked out on him- seems he spent some time in the military and knows his way around an axe. We also have an honest-to-gods doctor, though he seems a little... off.



As for supplies, we're not too bad off, either. A lot of booze, seeds, food, a breeding pair of dogs, and some miscellaneous junk. I also requisitioned a bronze battle-axe and a crossbow with a quiver of bolts.



The long journey has finally come to an end and we are now at our destination. I'll say one thing, they got the name right. It's cold as hell frozen over up here. After a quick survey, we found there there are, indeed, large deposits of iron ore, as well as coal, which means we could set up a very profitable steel industry quite quickly.

Something's not right about the ice, though. It seems... off, somehow. I'm going to make sure people stay off it if possible. Just a gut feeling, I guess. And the ants...



I gotta remember not to fuck with those ants.

[Griggs]

25th of Granite, 2051

Though it was a long trip, we nevertheless started immediately on the excavation of our new, frostbitten home. I've ordered a long central hallway, and a large chamber for out trade depot. I hope one day we may line the hallway with traps, statues, and engravings, but for now doors will suffice. If we could find some workable rock. Not that I'm going to complain- I'm more than happy to dig into a huge layer of magnetite and coal. All we need is one smith and we'll be up to our arses in steel. But magnetite is too valuable to waste on furniture.

I'm seeing a lot of wolves around... not your run-of-the-mill primordial dogs, mind, but big, vicious ice wolves. I'll have to keep an eye on them.


4th Slate, 1051

Things are going well so far. We've started excavtion of a dining hall and- What the hell? Oh gods, the dogs! Damn those wolves!



5th Slate, 1051

The past day has been harrowing. A pack of the wolves descended upon our camp, making short work of our pair of war dogs. Thank gods for that carpenter. With his bronze axe and training, he felled five of the beasts before the rest turned tail.




Every one of his mighty blows felled a creature, though he has suffered some minor wounds as a result. I doubt it is anything to worry about- any dwarf who can behead a wolf so hard that the head flies upward three stories into a tree is truly too badass to die.




20th Slate, 1051

With our dogs dead but no dwarf unharmed, we continued to mine out our little slice of home in this gods-forsaken wasteland. I plan on carving out living quarters to the west, industrial warehouses and workshops to the east. I have planned to make the best use of space via multiple levels and connecting hallways, as well as individual, compartmentalized workshop spaces.



As long as everything continues smoothly, we should- what the hell was that unearthly howl?

6th Felsite, 1051

It came upon us in the night. A semi-transparent monster, upright like a person. With those eyes... those glowing red eyes. I told Tirist, the carpenter and resident warrior, to slay the beast. He charged it with all the glory of a true dwarven warrior. And was choked to death for his troubles.



With Tirist's death, the creature elected to pursue the rest of us, who were already running for our lives. I yelled for everyone to get inside, thankful for the heavy Diorite doors that we had finally gotten around to installing. By some blessed miracle, the damned thing was distracted by our expedition's feline, and we were able to retreat inside and lock the doors. Before I slammed them shut, I got one last look at the thing, in all it's cold terror.



Thankfully we're all safe inside, and the beast, though strong, does not appear to be able to breach our doors. There is, however, one slight problem.



All of our supplies are outside.

[Griggs]

Late Spring? 1051

We were locked in a few days and everyone started getting thirsty. Repeated short looks through the door had showed the coast to be clear, so I gave the go-ahead for a quick run to the wagon. We all ran out, expecting to sight the beast running towards us.

It had vanished, nowhere to be found.

After all that suspense I'd kinda figured something more dramatic would happen, but the evil damned thing appears to have left the region. Well, I'll be waitin' if it comes back. Just you wait.

Nothing much has happened since then- oh, you thieving fucking rats!



Summer? 1051

I've given up on dates. It doesn't matter any more. It ought to be starting summer by now, and it's still cold as a witch's teat.



We got our first migrant wave. A woodworker, a tanner, a bonecarver and a lazy peasant. The former and latter told me they have some military experience, and the woodworker said he was a damn good shot. I asked which regiment he was in. He told me the 3rd Royal Blowgunners.

...

Sometimes, I'm glad I'm away from all those fools in the mountainhomes and live in a frozen fucking wasteland. Not often, but sometimes. I gave the guy position as captain of the First Abysschill Marksmen. He asked when we would get some blowguns. I slapped him and told him to go make himself a fucking crossbow. I threatened to do the same to the bone carver if he didn't start churning out trinkets for the caravan stat.

To kill the time I've told the Robin and his boy to go dig out a tomb. It'll be fit for a noble. I imagine we're going to bury a lot of dead there, but you can bet your ass our buddy Tirist is taking center stage. Man saved our fort, and you gotta respect that.



I've also had them do some mining for a little side-project. I've always thought it was a little cramped around here.

Autumn? 1051

Still nothing much happening. We've been keeping a constant watch on the local countryside, but there's nothing but deer and the occasional goat right now. Can't say I'm not thankful.

We got another wave of migrants.



Four this time: a fish dissector (what he expects to work with, I dunno), an animal dissector (ditto), and a planter. I'm not even sure what to do with this lot, maybe start up the metal industry. I don't like unskilled workers, but there's not a lot fucking else to do.

Been keeping myself busy doing what I love best: designing devious little traps. I've only been able to do simple stuff so far, rigging rocks to look like part of the ceiling and have them fall on anyone attacking us. It's not massively effective, but it should protect us from a small-scale attack.



Late Autumn? 1051

The caravan and outpost liaison have come. I guess someone actually gives a damn about this place after all. As per Abysschill tradition, the diplomat was promptly jumped by a pack of ice wolves...



...and proceeded to BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF EVERY SINGLE ONE!



Reminder: Never fuck with Ducim Grizzlyships.

We traded the caravan all the useless shit the crafter made and bought up all their booze and food, as well as a really nice pick. You don't just pass up an unadorned masterwork iron pick.

One of the traders remarked that winter was starting, and hooooh, boy, it must get cold up here in the winter. I'm not sure exactly what happened after that. I remember swearing a lot. They left shortly after.

Early Winter, 1051

We laid Tirist to rest, finally. He's mostly just bones now, but it took a while to get the coffin and tomb ready. Better late than never, I suppose. Rest in peace, dwarf.



The months rolled by, and we continued expanding industry and residences. I can't say I don't feel some pride; now that we're over the initial hump, this place has gotten to running smoothly. We really need some farms and a source of water, and I didn't have the guts to continue digging deeper, not without a militia, but the metalworks are up and running, and we have all the workshops we need.

We've been here about a year now, and my little side project is complete. It's not much, but what's better celebration of a year in this frozen, godsforsaken hellhole than a little controlled demolition?

Pull the fucking Lever!





That's really gonna open up the front yard.



Well, that's about it, I'm done. I got this place on it's feet, and I'm sick of leading, sick of hearing these bastards complain, sick of burying friends. I just want to spend my days peaceably in my workshops, working on ways to kill and maim from a distance. Someone else wants the job, it's theirs. I don't care how crazy the bastard is.

-Griggs Junglehandle, Chief Engineer and Former Expedition Leader