Records of Fatcat, Captain of the GuardY187-1
Date: Slate 1st
I have been tasked with the overseership of Smallhands. Given my high rank, I was already aware of many of the problems plaguing the fortress. The lower exit, which once was deep underground, is completely indefensible, and is littered with bodies, and other refuse. Additionally, I couldn't even find a lever to close the gate, and was forced to order a new one built near the military training rooms. The mass mausoleums in the depths ran out of free coffins, and the restless dead have been maddening our very souls seeking proper burial. The first one I sighted came out of a magma storage basin, and haunted one of our engraving crew.
Not long after, our resident bard, Bombyx Mori, was worshiping in the temples when he came to the conclusion that no beauty or story bore any hope, peace, or reason, and consigned his mind to the darkness of madness.
He has since ceased to eat and sleep, and wanders the temples weeping and tearing his hair and beard. I fear that even were I to order him brought back as a ghoul upon his death, his soul has been lost forever.
On a brighter note, the bear breeding program my predecessors instigated has flourished, and I ordered a small number of them trained for war. Additionally, trade thrives. Despite the unfaithfulness of some past overseers in keeping our oaths of peace, the elves continue to send caravans to do commerce with us.
I ordered a few bears butchered, and between them and the gizzard stones from beak dogs, I was able to purchase a small selection of clothing to refresh our wardrobes.
My main concern now is finding a reliable way to dispose of trash in vast quantities, as the fortress I protect and lead has become little more than a heap of years of refuse. I must consult the engineers on the best way to do this.