CHAPTER 5
2nd Hematite, 8, Early Summer
Bloody fools!
Just last night, while I was finishing up the last pages of my previous chapter of this diary, one of the dwarves came up to the president's quarters. At first I thought he was one of the many dwarves that kept complaining about the terrible smell haunting Onionbeard, but then he went and had the audacity to order me around! Just who did he think he was? And apparently, he was also one of the previous presidents: the first, to be exact.
Apparently he wanted paper for... something or another. I told him he could go esh komvu himself, and to get the circus out of my office. When he would not leave when I ordered him to, I called in the guards. He was apprehended. I would not have them beat him, but I warned him if he tried to do this again, he'd get a proper whipping.
Even though, I do believe we need paper. The poor saps around here have nothing to clean themselves with, and some have resorted to using old leaves and elf-skin rags (note: we need to harvest more elf-skin. A proper clothing industry always needs more skins, and what better than the elves?). But in any case, let the summer begin!
5th Hematite, 8, Early Summer
As one of the starting projects of the summer, I have decreed the digging of a presidential suite, a place where the presidents of Onionbeard may stay to relax, unwind, and laugh at funny engravings on the wall. There will be a pool at the entrance hall, as well as many other things, examples including a private library, some fancy statues, and cute, hairy dwarfettes.
6th Hematite, 8, Early Summer
I have decided that Booze Boulevard, the street planned by the good CaptainArchmage, should be opened (or, rather, dug out) soon after the suite is finished being dug out. I don't seem to recall it's purpose, but judging by it's time, it's got something to do with alcohol. I'm down for alcohol.
7th Hematite 8, Early Summer
Oh dear... it appears a troll has gone loose in the fortress... Tsk tsk tsk. Turqoise, this is a job for you.
10th Hematite, 8, Early Summer
For a while now an idea has dwelled in my head. I have envisioned a great hall, lined with pillars rising high to the ceiling. Massive, massive it is. I keep wondering if this idea could be shaped into something great, or will simply just be tossed under the table. I may have to consult the others about this.
12th Hematite, 8, Early Summer
Ah, the human caravan has arrived. Hopefully they have some paper so I can shut up that Cefist fellow.
13th Hematite, 8, Early Summer
"Interrupted by a kea." I hate those damn things. Their wide, slit-pupiled eyes, staring greedily at your life's work, always waiting, always watching for the perfect opportunity to snatch it out of your hands. I trust in Melbil's plan, but allowing these green-feathered bastards to live on the earth hinders the progress of all good life.
16th Hematite, 8, Early Summer
It's taken the dwarves nearly a week to haul just two gem bins to the trade depot. Nearly a week! The poor blokes at the depot must be tired out of their minds waiting for these slowpokes to haul arse!
Well, ultimately it seems it matters little. We traded our gems in exchange for some cheese, leather, barrels of wine and milk, glass, and some... parchment sheets? Are those paper? I'm... I'm not sure. They might be.
?, 8, ?
*This page is found seperate from the main diary, a single piece of paper, although it is undoubtedly torn from the main diary itself. There is no dates on it, besides 8, the year it was writen.*
My dreams continue to bother me. Or are they comforting me? I cannot say. In these dreams I keep seeing Onionbread at it's most glorious, where the farms are filled with all manner of lush fruits, and the food stockpiles near bursting with meats, spices, and fruits. Where joy and laughter are heard throughout the fortress, and the bowels of all dwarves functional and not clogged. And of course, the burning corpses of elves impaled on wooden swords.
But in this joy, I feel dread. And that dread grows as I watch the happy citizens of the fortress. Do they not know? Do they not know the will of the gods, and the arch-god, Armok? Their happiness and joy are not eternal, for their destruction will eventually come.
And then that dread pierces through my heart like a blazing knife. A foul evil, more ancient than the stars stirs from below, and suddenly the joy so present is burned away in black flame as evil, demonic screams drown out the laughter. And then the fortress goes cold. Empty. Silent. As if no creature ever stirred here. Is this a prophecy? A warning? Do these dreams have any meaning, or are they just the result of old, dried shits plaguing my life for the past month? I cannot say. Only time will tell if these dreams are true or false.