Editing Joinedspider

= Goblin Fortress =
[[Image:Spirit of goblin fortress.png|thumb|right]]
A recent fad on /tg/ has been to take [[Dwarf Fortress]] and edit the raw files to play as a [[goblin]] civilization. Simple enough, but the editing doesn't stop there; since goblins do not die of old age, they are one of the few races that can be set to be all [FEMALE] without simply dying out at world generation. This inevitably lead to the idea of lesbian goblin forts, kidnapping the males of other species and chaining them up in their underground sex-forts. Further editing ensued, so that goblin forts the world over began churning out "- Kobold Leather Strap-ons -" and all kinds of other unwholesome toys. Writefaggotry was requested and delivered, in the form of a sort of twisted succession game-log, from the point of view of naive goblin Mechanic Snodub Joinspider. After a number of requests for MOAR, 1d4chan was recommended as a place to archive the story while it continued. What follows is the story so far in its entirety, from beginning to the latest post, two days after the initial idea. Note that this is copied ''straight from the original text file,'' and as such will not have any minor edits that I caught or otherwise decided to change while posting. With that said, enjoy!

== The log of Joinedspider ==
[[Image:Goblin fortress day one.gif|thumb|right]]
1st Granite, 201

This is the personal log of Snodub Joinspider, High-Mechanic of the Poisons of Smut. I keep this log as I hope it will assist me in keeping my sanity, as surrounded as I am by fools and infidels. My Metalsmith friend Nguslu Jackalincests convinced me to join this slaving expedition and I already regret it. Our leader, the great Ber Dungeonbait, has decreed our new civilization will be known as "The Awe-Inspiring Seduction". She is a moron. I hate her. Also, every time she goes past, I hear a strange ticking noise as though she were made of clockwork. I hate her. There are five other goblins with us, including Ber. I hate them all too. The only thing that has kept me sane through the journey so far is our supply of slaves. The Elves especially still cling to some shred of dignity, while the kobolds are nothing but desperate, cringing curs at this point. They have been most entertaining, but now we have arrived in this forbidding place we have turned them loose from their filthy cages. The smell was beginning to become unbearable, and where could they run to now, after all? Dungeonbait is bawling her orders at us already, so I must go. I will hide this log, as the others would only mock me for it.



20th Granite, 201

Life has been so hectic that I had forgotten about this journal entirely. This land is truly forbidding, as no sooner had we arrived than a great storm blew in and drenched us all for three days straight. I must admit it was amusing seeing the elves snivel and cry as they huddled together, but it was considerably less funny seeing as it was happening to me too. Still, incompetent moron though she is, Dungeonbait is a formidable taskmaster: The workshops are dug and built and the barracks is soon to follow. Hatedthralls, our so-called craftsgoblin, is already churning out her simplistic creations; I hope they finish the slave-quarters soon, as I long for the company of my precious kobolds. Stupid and animalistic though they may be, there is something about them.. During the storm they said and did nothing, simply sitting and waiting out the floods. I find that.. Inspiring, somehow. Whether this is because of stoicism or dull wit is another matter. I must go; the workshop that I am to call my own is ready, and I must begin work on our traps: I hear the others have spotted Lizardmen in a great pool nearby. Paranoia is a virtue.


12 Slate, 201

Finally, we have a proper hole to hide in. The storerooms are complete, food and wood stocks settled. Our barracks is complete and the others are sleeping.. Some of them with each other. I can't believe it took me this long to realize Hatedthralls swung that way, but Dungeonbait seems to have leapt at the opportunity and is currently 'enforcing justice' on her with the help of one of Hatedthralls 'toys'. Apparently Ber is the dominant type. Their incessant squealing and Dungeonbait's abusive tongue have driven me from the barracks, so I have taken refuge in the crafting hall. I do not know how the others can sleep through such a display. Exhaustion takes me; my hands can no longer keep up and create the intricate mechanisms we need. I hear the noise of the others moving around anyway. I will brave the barracks again. Hopefully Hatedthralls and Dungeonbait will have finished 'expressing their love' by now.


22nd Felsite, 201

A reprieve! Finally, I can breathe a sigh of relief. Dungeonbait's appetites have grown ever more rapacious, and Hatedthralls has become her willing companion. They go everywhere together, and have lately turned their attention to the rest of us. I fear that she fancies me as her next 'conquest', as several times over the last few days I have caught her smirking at me when she thinks I am not looking. Just yesterday she somehow worked her way behind me as I worked alone and.. stroked my shoulders. I am certain that if our cook, Arstruk Ruthlessmatched, had not wandered in and begun preparing food, she would have had me within minutes. She is afraid of Arstruk. Arstruk is strong.
Part of me was almost disappointed at the interruption, but I have seen what Ber does with her toys; she is truly depraved. She is terrible and magnificent, and I am sorry I ever doubted her leadership, she is definitely fit to lead a troop of goblins. Even so, I am terrified that she might pick me to share her bed next, so our mason Jackalclings' latest find is surely a gift from Ostru, god of liars.

Iron! At last we have struck Hematite! Dungeonbait is ecstatic and has gone down to the excavation herself to ensure that all the precious minerals are extracted. With this find, we can finally begin work on our military, and I can use the time to search for a safe place to hide from Dungeonbait's tender affections. Who knows, maybe I'll even find enough room for my friend Jackalincests.. I know she's terrified too. If I do bring her with me, she'll owe me. I wonder how I can exploit that..


[[Image:Atu.png|thumb|right]]
28th Felsite, 201

Dungeonbait continues to work feverishly at the ore seam. I have managed to steer clear of her so far by volunteering to work outside and help Badfasten chop wood. Atu is even more muscled than Jackalincests, and renders whole trees to straight, small logs in minutes. Watching the way her muscles move as she cleaves her way through the trees is strangely hypnotic, and she is definitely very strong. As ashamed I am to admit it.. more than once I caught myself daydreaming about how that muscled frame would look naked. If Atu noticed, she has said nothing. I find her good company in any case as she speaks little and works very hard, but she works so quickly it is a struggle to keep up with her. As I write this, I am hiding in our woodpile and trying to catch my breath. Badfasten seems to care little for Tower politics, so I doubt she will complain about my disappearance to Ber.
Jackalincests has made herself useful by inspecting the ore we found and seems to think it good quality. In the little time we have had to talk, she has told me that Ber has been giving her ominous looks as well, and she has taken to hiding underneath the trade depot whenever she comes too close. We still have to sleep though, and she has urged me to find a place for us to hide. I have a plan. If I pull this off, I'll have my pick of the iron once our forge is completed..


10th Hematite, 201

Success! I have convinced Jackalclings, that layabout miner, to get off her lazy hind quarters and begin some more excavations. Under the guise of private rooms for us all, I have persuaded her to extend one of the tunnels to the north and build a small sub-chamber there. I did worry about how I would manage to swing the deal, but Jackalclings waved off my questions about payment saying she would 'take her pay from me later'. I did not like the way she looked at me, so I simply asked her to keep my instructions a secret and left. I could feel her eyes on me for the whole length of the corridor. She must be planning something dire. I think I will ask Jackalincests to watch out for me while I sleep tonight, lest I awake to a knife in my gut..


[[Image:Joinspiderportrait.jpg|thumb|right]]
12th Hematite, 201

By Ostru, I am in a fortress of madwomen. For months, Ber's concubine Hatedthrall has been slaving away preparing 'goods for trade'. Our lives are as separate as I can make them, so it took until the arrival of the trade caravan today for me to find out what our craftsgoblin has created. With the sighting of the caravan, Ber was summoned from the depths and began bawling her orders at us, demanding that we carry her precious craftsgoblin's 'toys' up to the trade depot. I complied and joined the others in fetching the goods from the stockpile, only to discover in shock that they're.. Filthy! Nothing but pile after pile of clockwork instruments of pleasure, carved from the very rock we now huddle under! I even saw Atu hefting one in her hand and commenting on the workmanship! I fled in sheer embarrassment and am currently skulking like a snivelling kobold in the darkest corner I can find. What confuses me even more is that the merchants seem delighted by this haul and have provided us with a valuable anvil in exchange! Nothing like this ever happened to me back at home. Has the whole world gone mad?


9th Malachite, 201

Damn it all. My plan has backfired. While working on the secret room that I commissioned, Jackalclings has stumbled upon Kaolinite. She feels we should inform Dungeonbait, but for now I have persuaded her to keep silent. I can only hope that this does not increase her price. The caravan has left with our output of pleasure devices, and Dungeonbait remains distracted from social matters by the importance of getting a forge up and running. Jackalincests has finally been able to have her say in the running of the fort, and has been put in charge of all metal, armor and weaponsmithing. It is a big assignment, but hopefully we will have some migrants before long and they will ease the strain. Mighty Ostru, please let at least some of them be sane..


[[Image:Utes.png|thumb|right]]
26th Malachite, 201

Migrants! Fresh blood, and lots of it. Today we sighted them, amidst the heat haze; what fool idea was it to build a fort here? In the spring we had storms for weeks, and now the land itself is dry and cracked. Still, our food supplies are plentiful and there has been no sign of dwarves. The migrants themselves are mostly a sorry lot; two fishermen and a third who guts their kills, a woodcrafter and mason. The only one among them who seems halfway worthy of attention is Utes Templeseduce, the Hunter. She seems to view her fellow migrants with the same disdain I do, and had scarcely introduced herself before she disappeared into the hills to hunt for game. Two jobless peasants also arrived, but they were swiftly browbeaten by Dungeonbait and forced into our 'military'. Currently she has set them to training to build their strength, and they are wrestling and grappling with each other in the barracks. She insists on watching them as they claw and yank at each other's clothes. They are doomed I am sure, and I have no doubt she will break them into part of her harem before long.


12th Galena, 201

Why must everyone in this fort be so.. Perverted?! I can no longer eat in the dining hall with the others. The mason that recently joined us has been set to engraving tales of goblin heroism and glory throughout the fort, and she has set to it with gusto. All through the night the noise of her chisel has been chipping away, and she has since engraved many passable images of simple things such as goblins travelling and finely crafted iron chains. However, I have since discovered that she is as mad, and as perverse as all the others (Save for my good friend Jackalincests and quiet, stoical Atu of course). This morning I arose from my bed in the barracks and stumbled into the dining hall. I heard coughing and looked up instinctively to see the Engraver (whose name is Snamoz Incestdented) waving away a cloud of rock dust and looking up at her latest creation proudly. Interested despite myself, I wandered over to investigate and saw what she has carved on the wall. How I wish I had not done so, then I might have been able to continue eating in that damned hall, where Atu lounges after her shift..
Engraved on the wall is an (admittedly well-designed) image of a goblin and two female elves. The goblin was standing over the elves with an expression of ecstatic triumph. The elves knelt in front of her, hands chained behind their backs (clearly they were supposed to be enslaved, as all elves should be) tears flowing down their faces as they buried their faces in her crotch and.. Pleasured her. This all sickened and disgusted me, but what froze my heart the most was the face of the goblin. As I gazed up at that cold countenance, I saw who it was clearly supposed to be. Ber Dungeonbait gazed down on me victoriously as her two broken elven slaves licked and suckled at her nethers. I fled in terror, as I know not what Dungeonbait will do when she sees it.. All I know is it will not herald good things for anyone, especially me.


[[Image:Snamoz.png|thumb|right]]
16th Galena, 201

Run and hide, run and hide. The worst has come to pass. I had thought that when Ber saw her face engraved in that filthy image, she would be enraged and the entire fortress would suffer. Unfortunately, things are worse than that. She loves it. She actually loves the damn thing! She has commissioned Snamoz to engrave the rest of the fort in a similar style. Soon I won't be able to go anywhere without seeing these damned engravings. I would keep my eyes on the ground, but Snamoz (curse her eyes!) has even started inscribing her lewd imaginings into the floor! I have fled to my sanctum, the secret room at the end of the dead corridor, but even here I find I am not safe. I managed (with a little help from Jackalincests) to smuggle a pair of simple beds down here, but I cannot sleep now. Earlier today, as I toiled at creating yet more mechanisms for our traps (whoever builds them must be a masterful architect, as they are so well hidden I have seen no sign of any of them) Jackalincests came running into the crafting hall, completely out of breath. She told me that Ber was looking for me, and that there was no mistaking what she was after. In terror, I bolted and ran straight for my hiding place, almost knocking over Atu on the way as she carried a barrel up to our stockpile. I would have apologized as I would hate for her to be insulted, but fear spurred me ever onwards to my secret room.

I had intended to block the entrance and sleep there a while until Ber gave up her search for me and sated her interests elsewhere, but unfortunately I could not find enough rubble to block the doorway. I tried to sleep anyway, but my mind raced and I found it impossible, so instead I rose and paced the room. This, more than anything, is likely what saved me. As I prowled the room like a caged human, my ears pricked up at the sound of voices. Snamoz, telling someone (Ber, as it turned out) that she had just seen me haring off down the dead end corridor. My blood ran cold as I heard Ber's cackling laugh of victory, and the sound of feet came padding ever closer to my hidden lair. They had found me! And with only one way in or out, I was trapped! I felt as though my heart would burst, but my fright lent me sudden clarity. If I did not find somewhere to hide, she would have me. In a frenzy, I whipped my head around and scoured the room for some place to hide.. And so I come to my current predicament; I lie here amidst a foetid pile of empty sacks and leather from the lesser creatures we farm. I am covered enough that I cannot be seen, and I can move around enough that I have created a little bubble of space in which to hide.. But I cannot leave. I cannot leave because Ber and Snamoz are still here.
When she first entered, I held my breath and prayed to all the darkest of gods that she would not find me. It seems I owe many sacrifices to someone, as after a quick (and surprisingly stealthy) prowl around the room, she sighed in frustration and spat on the floor. Snamoz, who was waiting by the door, shrugged her shoulders and apologized, saying she must have been mistaken. For her part, Dungeonbait was magnanimous. I remember her words exactly, as they are burned forever into my mind by sheer dread.
"It is no matter," she said, in that cloying, seductive voice. "For we will have our fun with her another time. Oh yes, there is no doubt about that. But for now my darling, let us discuss the matter of your engravings." For a moment, I thought I was seeing Dungeonbait's true side and that deadly murder was about to be done in front of me. The meaning behind her use of 'darling' had escaped me, as she called us all by that name... but what happened next was far worse than any murder. Oh, so much worse.

Snamoz approached her and nodded, listing off a description of each one of her foul creations. Dungeonbait seemed to enjoy this to a great degree, and demanded more and more lewd and disgusting details. For her part, Snamoz seemed to take great pleasure in exciting our leader, and began to describe the scenes she pictured in her head for the rest of the fort. I closed my eyes and tried not to listen, but I am sure I can still recall it ad verbatim. I wonder if I will ever forget. Finally Snamoz finished her list of shame, and I hoped for a second that they would leave, but.. No. "Well then my sweet, sick little artist," Dungeonbait spoke again, "It appears you have done much for us. In return, let us finally give you your.. Reward." And with that, she reached up to the clasp of her cape and slipped it free. I swear to all the gods of hatred and evil that, as the thick cape fell to the floor, she was completely naked underneath. Except, that is, for a pair of leather-like shorts of some kind. Her.. Bust shone in the torchlight as she beckoned Snamoz over to the bed, eagerly stroking some strange, inexplicable Thing that jutted out from the leather covering her groin. It may have been a trick of the light, but I was sure I saw the thing respond to her touch, shivering and changing position. The midnight blue garment must have been made from pure demonskin, and it was so finely crafted it must have been prohibitively expensive.. But I had no idea what use the thick, coiled appendage at the front might have.
Well, that was then, this is now. Ber has been giving Snamoz her 'reward' for several hours. Her stamina is incredible; Snamoz has been reduced to a twitching, panting wreck, and yet still she is used relentlessly by Ber, who stops only to hurl insults at her. Oh dearest log, savior in my loneliness, I apologize for going into such sickening detail but the scene holds some morbid fascination for me. The only way I can drag myself away from the obscene sight before me is to inscribe my thoughts in you, and now my tale is at an end. My eyes are drawn inexorably towards the bed, where Ber has discarded her strange, twisting undergarment and sits on the edge of the mattress, dragging the shattered Snamoz towards her crotch, ordering her over and over again to 'serve her Queen'. I pray that I can withstand this terrible night with my sanity intact. Why did I ever come to this den of witches? Why has nobody come to rescue me? But of course, they do not even know this room is here. I am trapped, trapped while these filthy creatures vent their lust in front of me, and if I am discovered then I shall join Snamoz on her knees, Ber's fist will clutch at MY hair, and then.. Will nobody rescue me? I must look again. I feel as though I am going mad..


19th Galena, 201

Freedom! Awful though my ordeal was, it seems some good may have come of it. I am saved! At some point during that terrible night, exhaustion must have taken me. When I woke up in the morning, Dungeonbait and Snamoz were gone, their illicit liaison complete. Still, even though I was starving I couldn't force myself to move for a full hour after I woke up, the thought that it might be a trap thundering through my mind. Eventually I managed to overcome the heavy dread that gripped at my muscles and slid from my sweltering hiding spot, gasping for breath. It was as I sucked down huge lungfuls of dry, dusty air that a familiar smell tickled my nose. I skulked over to the door and poked my head out into the corridor, braced to run, and saw possibly the most welcome sight I have ever seen in this hellhole. Atu lounged on a barrel by the stairs, taking long puffing drags on one of the thin reeds that struggles to grow on the surface in this horrible place. I confess I may have been a little overwrought from my ordeal, and though it shames me to admit it, I fear I may have broken down. I ran to her in tears and confessed all, relating the never-ending stream of events that had led me to this state, and especially my confusion and growing apprehension about Dungeonbait's designs for me. If Atu was surprised to see me, she said nothing, and after listening to my tale she simply nodded and clapped me on the back. She said she would look out for me and make sure the others knew to steer clear, which is possibly the longest sentence I've ever heard her say.
I am safe! I write this in the barracks two days later, which I have all to myself for the first time in weeks. Nobody has accosted me or even stood too close to me in the stairwell. I feel liberated, and I am sure it shows; my newfound friendship with Atu has brightened my day so much that even the disgusting engravings on the walls cannot spoil my good mood. I feel ecstatic! The others stare at me and even make way as I walk down the halls beaming with joy for the first time in months. Now that I think about it, I do not think any of the migrants have ever even seen me smile before. How shocked they must be! I still worry about Dungeonbait a little, as she is cunning and will surely find a way around Atu if she can, but for now I am on top of the world. I will stop writing now, as Jackalincests wishes me to help her carry the first of our metal goods down to storage. Truly, the fortress is a brighter place today!


1st Limestone, 201

It has been a strange couple of weeks. Things have been going well, but I am confused. The majority of the iron goods Jackalincests has been ordered to smith are chains and cages, and although she claims to have no knowledge of why this is I think she is lying. Still, she is my friend and I will leave her in peace if she does not wish to tell me. I can always find out another way just by spying on the stockpile, after all.
Atu's friendship continues to be a constant boon, as I am now left to my own devices at almost all times. My well-muscled heroine remains as stoical and quiet as ever, but she greets me in passing whenever our paths meet, and I am glad for her company. Just yesterday I saw her promise of protection in action: I had just finished designing the layout for a well, when I suddenly realized I was starving hungry. I jogged back to the dining hall, pausing on the way to grab a delicious meal of turtle bones, and it seems I picked a busy time for it as there were at least six others already eating, including Atu. One of the stupid peasant migrants who had become our first wrestlers called out to me, and when I turned she made some sort of joke that I didn't understand. Her friend started laughing so hard she almost choked on her food. Whatever her suggestion meant it was clearly supposed to be at my expense, as the entire hall turned to grin evilly at me. It was at this point that Atu leaned back in her chair (which happened to be behind the wrestler) and calmly reached back, grabbed her by the neck and dragged her out of the room. Nobody has made fun of me since.
Even Ber has been suspiciously quiet of late, although I have noticed her eyeing me worryingly while deep in conversation with the filth-monger, Snamoz. I wonder what they are planning, but so long as I have Atu to protect me, I am no longer so scared.


[[Image:Favorite.jpg|thumb|right]]
3rd Limestone, 201

I am hiding again, but not out of fear. This time I am hiding out of a strange sense of excitement and shame; for I feel this must remain a secret and yet I must tell someone.. So I come once again to my most valuable possession; my log. The use for the chains has been revealed, although I do not understand the point of it. A large chamber has been excavated near the barracks, with small side-tunnels scarcely large enough for two people to fit inside leading off from it at regular intervals. In each of these alcoves, a set of chains have been affixed to the rock, and the kobolds have been led inside and locked into place. According to a conversation I overheard between Ber and Jackalclings, each of these 'cubicles' will soon have a door to 'allow privacy, if needed'. They have not been affixed yet, however, as Jackalclings is habitually lazy and is currently snoring her head off in the barracks. I didn't understand why privacy would be required, but I decided to investigate the chamber anyway.
The kobolds, bless their flea ridden hides, are adorable as ever. As soon as I entered I felt a sudden, unfamiliar surge of pity for the stupid beasts. One of them in particular, a male who had barely reached adulthood, flinched and tried to scrabble even deeper into the tunnel the moment he saw me. I didn't understand his fear, so I stalked closer and tried to coax the shivering wretch out of his hole. I cooed softly to him and slowly he began to relax as he understood I was concerned about his condition. As I entered the alcove, he turned and twitched his nose at me, and I noticed that.. For some reason, a tiny growth was protruding from below his stomach. It seemed inflamed and swollen. If he was ill and he died Dungeonbait would have my head, so I reached down and tried to examine it. The second my hand touched it however, he shivered and squeaked in terror. I tried to reassure him by gently stroking the affected area, but that just seemed to make things worse. Then it hit me. Poison! Of course! He must have been bitten by a snake while left to wander on the surface. If left alone, the poison would inevitably kill him, so I knew what I had to do; the poison had to be sucked out.

Getting down on all fours in front of the diminutive creature, I took the thing into my mouth and began desperately trying to suck out the poison. This seemed to startle him, but he didn't recoil as I feared he would. I tried as hard as I could, but nothing seemed to happen; if anything, the growth seemed to get even bigger.

At one point, I was certain that I heard a noise over by the door, but when I whipped my head around there was no sign of anyone in the gloom. A second later the poor kobold gripped my hair and violently yanked me back towards him, so I shrugged and returned to trying to cure him. To cut a long story short, it worked; a few minutes later his breath became labored and he squealed pitifully, and I felt a hot jet of poison splash into my mouth. I have no idea why I did what I did next, but it seemed instinctive; without thinking, the second my mouth filled with venom, I was so surprised that.. I swallowed it. I remember thinking at the time that it didn't taste like poison, but the swelling disappeared almost immediately, so I suppose I must have done something right. For some reason though, I feel as though I have somehow done something terrible.. I hope I do not get sick myself. Jackalclings is bellowing for someone to help carry the doors down to the chamber, so I should probably go help. I will drink lots of fresh water and hope for the best.


10th Limestone, 201

We have struck Magnetite! And lots of it! With this discovery the entire fort has begun celebrating, as with a vein this huge we can begin to create even the most luxurious and unnecessary of items in good, hard iron. Even Dungeonbait seems more cheerful than lascivious of late, and paused only to ask Jackalincests to create her a fine Iron throne to commemorate the event before disappearing off to mine out more of the precious mineral. With this discovery, more migrants are sure to flock to our burgeoning fort, but I fear our growing strength and wealth will bring the ire of other clans or (Ostru forbid!) even the hated Dwarves. Atu tells me I am being pessimistic, but then on the other hand she is drunk. In fact, she is very drunk. One of our farmers has turned out to be a passable brewer, and the whole fort has been legless for days. Although it is awkward having to shuffle past people drunkenly groping at each other in the corridors, at least they are too busy carousing to bother me. I personally have abstained, and I have no doubt they will all develop killer hangovers before long. In the meantime, a drunken fort is a happy fort.


13th Limestone, 201

Wonders will never cease; no sooner have we struck Magnetite than we breach a seam of Platinum. This news has driven my fellows to even greater heights of drunken revelry, and I find myself unable to enter the barracks once again due to their constant debauchery. I mentioned my reservations to Atu, but she seems not to be bothered by it. The way she can sleep in such an environment never ceases to amaze me. While Atu (and for that matter, Jackalincests) seems quite happy to continue using the barracks, I have retired to my personal room, small and roughly carved though it is. On the way I noticed Snamoz, who has not been indulging in the festivities much, industriously chiselling another of her creations into the wall near the private quarters. I have forbidden her from engraving anything in my room, so I now have at least one place of solace from her smut.


14th Limestone, 201

I hate this fort and everyone in it. I mean it! It seems that I am not safe even when cloistered in my room. This morning I awoke in a fine mood, having had a good night's sleep for the first time in weeks. The others were presumably still reveling in their drunken merrymaking, so I prepared to head down to the workshops and see if Jackalincests needed help with smithing anything. However, no sooner had I reached the door when I felt my foot snag on something in the darkness, and I tumbled face first into the floor. That would have been bad enough, but a second later I felt a sharp stinging sensation as hot liquid splashed down onto me. Acid! I could feel it burning my skin and I screamed and writhed desperately around on the floor, sure that the mad fools I live with had finally decided to murder me. I still wonder if that would have been preferable to what happened next.

As scared as I was, I realized that this acid didn't really burn; it just stung, like being sprayed with the juice from some sour fruit. Still, my eyes were watering and I knew I had to clean them, so I staggered to my feet and lurched out of the door, blinking furiously. I was greeted by the grinning faces of half the fort, many of whom burst out laughing the moment they saw me. Others even cheered and clapped, and I wondered for a second what was so funny before a gust of wind from the stairwell caused me to look down. My shriek must have been heard all the way back home. The acid was dissolving my clothes! Clutching desperately at the few disintegrating scraps protecting my modesty, I ran pell-mell through the halls and out into the wilderness, their cruel laughter echoing in my ears.

It is several hours later as I write this under a tree near the river, and Jackalincests has found me and lent me her cape. She has tried to convince me to go back to the fort with her, but I have refused. Even so, I suppose I will have to go back soon.. I have nowhere else to go. But I still hate them!


[[Image:Engraving.jpg|thumb|right]]
16th Limestone, 201

I should have known better than to hope the others would leave me alone after the acid incident. Their smirks and muttered jokes follow me everywhere, and now I have something even worse to deal with. It appears that Snamoz has taken advantage of my absence to deliver her masterstroke; I returned from my self-imposed exile and, after a quick trip to the clothing stockpile, made haste to my room to lock myself in and hide under the bed. Call me childish if you will, but I still feel the irrepressible urge to run away and hide when I get upset. It's served me well in this hellish place so far and I'm not about to stop now. In any case, I arrived back at my room and opened the door with some trepidation, fully expecting another vat of dignity-destroying acid to plummet onto my head. What greeted me was far worse.

Above my bed, engraved in vivid, masterful detail was a picture of a goblin that I instantly recognized as myself. On the right was another figure which I assumed was supposed to be a kobold. The goblin was kneeling, her rear raised high in the air, and she was caressing a ridiculously oversized lump in the Kobold's pants in the most disturbingly lascivious way. The kobold, for his part, was grinning like a shark and drooling copiously, the saliva dripping down onto the goblin's.. My head.

I am hiding under my bed now, partly to avoid the gaze of my fellow settlers and partly because I am too angry to do anything else. Snamoz must pay. I am sure Atu would not stand for this, but she has been absent for a few days now. On top of which, our Hunter has also disappeared recently, and as I know little to nothing about her.. It is only now that I come to think of it that I am filled with dread. If something has happened to Atu, it bodes ill for me to say the least. On top of which.. I think I would actually miss her. This situation needs careful thought.


20th Limestone, 201

This is not what I meant. Jackalincests has taken it on herself to inform Ber of Atu and Utes, the Hunter, disappearing. Personally I was sure Ber was behind it, but if she is she hdies it well; she seems genuinely disturbed by this news and has ordered that we all spend time in the fort's militia until the situation is resolved, so we will always have someone ready to respond. The two wrestlers (who go everywhere together) volunteered instantly and took the first shift patrolling around the fort, but even though they are the only ones with actual military training they cannot patrol the fort forever, and have gone off duty now.
Unfortunately, because nobody else has any military training, we are all equal targets for Ber's recruitment scheme.. Including me. Well, not to beat around the bush, it IS me. Jackalincests knocked on my door this morning and informed me that I had been randomly selected to make up the next patrol. I am sure this is Ber's work and that she has fixed the lots, but what can I do? I gave in and trudged up to the armory with Jackalincests, and was displeased to discover Snamoz hanging around waiting for her shift to begin. I wanted to punch her, but Jackalincests put her arm around me and moved me to the farthest corner, which is probably for the best; the last thing the fort needs now is for us to be fighting each other as well.. Jackalincests is a fine smith, as I knew she would be. She has fitted me up with an excellent suit of chainmail (I considered Plate, but it seems far too heavy) and a buckler, as well as a very finely crafted scimitar, although I hope I never have to use it. Unfortunately with the sudden militarization of the fort, she has not had enough time to make full armor for everyone, so instead she has given me a bone helmet and told me to be careful. She gave me a kiss on the cheek for luck as she left, and I no longer feel so nervous. As I was adjusting my armor to fit, Snamoz came up behind me and slapped me on the.. Rear, saying I looked 'good' in my new armor. I am paraphrasing, but I think that's what she meant. I would have gotten angry, but to be honest.. I really do. With all this well-forged iron armor fitting snugly around me, I feel like a real goblin at last, just like the Master Swordsgoblins back home!
I am partnered with our brewer, who insists on bringing alcohol with her on duty. I have threatened to report her to Ber but she doesn't care, so to hells with it. I'm not about to voluntarily talk to that deviant and I'm pretty sure she knows it. We met Ber on the way out, and even she seems impressed with how professional I look now. She gave us our orders, which are to patrol around the fort and keep an eye out for our missing friends. On top of this, if we see any sign of enemies, we are to run back to the fort and warn the others as fast as we can. So far there have been no sign of either, and the brewer is on her third bottle. I hope I get paired up with someone else next time, as she is making me look bad.


22nd Limestone

Atu is wounded and we are all in danger. Today I was out on patrol with that drunkard brewer again, and I saw something clambering up towards us from the river. I thought for a moment that it was some kind of horrible monster, but then I saw that it was two separate people.. Utes, helping Atu to stumble back to the fort! I rushed down to assist them and sent the brewer back to alert the others. Just as we entered the familiar dankness of home, Atu turned to me and coughed a single word into my ear that has chilled me to my core. Dwarves! It is now several hours later and I am off-duty, so I can finally record what has happened. It appears that Atu was out cutting wood to be used in the creation of a chest for Ber when she suddenly stumbled upon a camp of dwarves, gathered around a wagon. They were armed and dangerous looking, so she retreated to avoid bringing them back to the fort. Unfortunately, one of them saw her and snatched up a crossbow. She has been hit in the shoulder, but the majority of the damage is from when she tumbled down the mountain in shock. The dwarves must have thought she was dead, and she had been dragging herself back to the fort one-armed when Utes found her. For her part, Utes seems genuinely concerned for Atu and is checks in with me every few hours to see if there is any improvement. She seemed a little cold when first I met her, but I have since learned she simply has trouble showing her emotions. I find myself liking her, and she has done much to help poor Atu. She has even agreed to look after Atu when I am forced to go on duty tomorrow. I must go now, Jackalincests has arrived and is demanding that I sleep. She claims that I have been awake and by Atu's bedside for almost 18 hours. She must be exaggerating, but I AM tired..


24th Limestone, 201

By Hordru, I WAS tired. I appear to have overslept almost a full day. Atu is awake and eating, and Jackalincests has taken my military shift for today on condition that I take hers tomorrow. It seems only fair, but I am at something of a loss as I have no work to do. I think I will spend today keeping Atu company.


28th Limestone, 201

The entire world is against me! I am doomed forever to be surrounded by depravity wherever I go. It has taken me three days to gather up the strength of will to write this even to myself, and I know that I can never mention it to anyone else. It happened while out on patrol; once again I had been teamed up with that worthless brewer, and once again she was sloshed out of her skull. She became so drunk, in fact, that she passed out right as we were rounding the corner down to the river. It was getting dark, and despite myself I didn't want to complete my patrol alone, especially not with the possibility of horrible dwarves lurking around the next corner. I decided to head down to the river and gather some water in her 'waterskin' (Ha! As if it had ever been so close to water before) so I could splash her face with it and hopefully get her to wake up.
I got down to the river easily enough despite the gathering gloom, and after a quick look around for carp, I began filling up the waterskin. I got it to about half full before I realized that the water around my hand was strangely warm. As I sat there pondering it, a strange trickling sound suddenly resolved itself out of the general splashing of the river. Curious, I stood up and parted the bushes behind which the sound was coming from and got the shock of my life. No more than a couple of feet away, staring straight at me and evidently as surprised as I was, was a dwarf. Shock must have dulled my terror reflex, because rather than scampering away to safety as any intelligent goblin would have done, I looked down at the source of the trickling sound. The dwarf was urinating in the river. He recovered first, shouting a muffled oath in his boorish tongue and grabbing at his crotch. I reached for my scimitar, heart racing as I realized this could be the thing that finally won me some respect around the fort.. And then I remembered. I had left my sword next to the damned brewer while I carried her waterskin. The dwarf turned towards me, and I tried (but failed) to avoid noticing how he had yet to pull up his pants, before my instincts took over and I turned and fled. Or at least, I tried to flee.

I managed to get about three paces before something thundered into my back and bowled me to the ground. I cried out in fear, sure for a moment that a crossbow bolt had pierced my spine and my death was inevitable. As it turns out, I had been hit by something much worse. The dwarf must have come barging through the bushes and hit me with a spectacular flying tackle, as I felt his weight moving around on my back. He laughed gruffly and grabbed me by the neck. Paralyzed by terror, all I could do was roll up into a fetal ball and think about if it would hurt when his knife flicked out and slit my throat, so I didn't notice what the dwarf was doing. As it turns out, he was preparing to do something a lot more painful.

As distracted as I was by my own panicked imagination, I didn't notice the dwarf lifting the back of my chain shirt up, or his hands seizing the brim of my pants. I did notice, however, when he violently yanked my pants down around my knees. I looked back in shock and confusion and saw, to my horror, that he was lining up his... was lining himself up with my groin. Or at least, that's what I thought at first. I struggled and squirmed, but his brawn was phenomenal and he held me down easily with one hand. I suddenly realized that the Brewer might be my only hope of rescue, so I opened my mouth and began to scream for help as loudly as I could. Seconds later, I felt the dwarf release his grip on my neck and thought for a second that he might be about to take off in fright, but to no avail. His hand clapped itself over my mouth and jerked back violently, just as he thrust his pelvis forwards. I had been wrong; the thought of being violated by a dwarf was bad enough, but he hadn't been lining himself up quite the way I thought he had..

My hind quarters caught fire as he entered me, and I screamed louder than I ever had before. My eyes felt as though they were bulging out far enough to explode, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my rear. And as if that didn't hurt enough, the dwarf pulled out just far enough for me to think the worst was over before slamming back in right down to the hilt. As I screamed and squealed into his hand, the dwarf's brutal laugh echoed in my ears and he continued to relentlessly pound into my rear. He ravished me for what seemed like hours as I lay helpless beneath his muscled bulk, before finally he thrust as deep into me as he possibly could and I felt something hot begin to spread out from the pain, flooding into my insides. With a final, mocking slap on the behind, he pulled out and disappeared into the darkness. I lay there for some time, trying to pull together my scattered thoughts as the relentless pain washed through my mind like the tides of the sea. When I eventually managed to gather myself up and return snivelling to the fort, my fellow patroller had long since stumbled drunkenly to bed, so there were thankfully no questions about my long absence.. I have been unable to sit down since, which is starting to raise eyebrows, but for the most part I have avoided prying eyes by hiding in my room and pretending to be ill. One thing I know for sure, though.. I understand now why we fight the Dwarves. They are truly evil creatures.


2nd Sandstone, 201

Today is off to a very interesting start. It could be that the eve of my revenge is finally at hand. For the record, I am sleeping underneath my bed because I cannot stand to look at Snodub's disgusting engraving. Off the record, it is because I find myself suddenly terrified of dwarves carrying me off in the night. Either way, I keep a spare pillow and blanket for just such an occasion, as I find I feel much safer under the bed. Early this morning, my paranoia has been proven prudent.
A few minutes ago, I found myself awoken from a remarkably pleasant dream. I think it was about the kobold I saved, I don't remember. I remember feeling slightly ashamed though, as my pants (and legs) were strangely slick and I fear I must have soiled myself, no doubt during a nightmare about that damn dwarf. In any case, I was awoken by a strange scraping noise.
Still half asleep, I pulled my thumb from my mouth (go to hell!) and was about to mumble a question when I felt a gust of cold air. Peeping out from my position underneath the foot of the bed I saw two goblins wheeling a large, almost cylindrical object into my room. In the dim light I couldn't make out their faces, but when one of them spoke I instantly recognized it to be our brewer.
"This ought to loosen her up" were her exact words, I believe, and I realized suddenly that they were here for me. Evidently they didn't know I was under the bed, but they didn't seem disappointed when I turned out not to be asleep. In fact if anything they seemed to be pleased by my absence, as it allowed them to work unperturbed. They lugged the strange object up onto the bed and fiddled with it for a while, anchoring it to the underside. I held my breath, sure they would notice me, but they seemed preoccupied with their prank. Finally they were done, and I heard the sound of the sheets being drawn up before they hurried out of the room.

I have slipped out and drawn back the sheets gingerly, inspecting their work. It is a stone contraption of some kind, complete with a pressure-plate.. Presumably, this part locks here, and this locks here, causing.. What? What is the point to this? Wait, there is a third mechanism here. Whoever made this is truly a master, but what point is there in a gear so secretive for a trap that only stops it's target moving..?
Of course. My comrades are truly perverse. Even they seek to violate me for their own twisted amusement, and leave me spread helpless until they deem fit to release me! But there is one thing they have forgotten, because they are idiots. I'm the damned Mechanic. I could strip this thing to its base components in my sleep. Although admittedly, probably not if it had caught me.. In any case, I have an idea. It should be no problem to trigger the releases on this thing, and then I know just what to do with it.

Success! Truly, I am a master of mechanics, a rogue among rogues! Tomorrow will reveal a few shamed faces, I am sure. Snamoz has just gone on her morning shift. Her bedroom is empty, save for the little surprise I have just secured beneath her bedsheets. The plate is set, the arms well greased, and most importantly the clockwork is wound. We shall see who is found enjoying the cold clutches of a stone lover tonight! In fact, if Snamoz closes her door before she retires, it may be that she is not found until tomorrow morning! She will feel as though she has spent an entire night with Ber again, only I am sure the trap will show more love and affection, especially to her 'tender areas' (In fact, I know it will. I made a few alterations so it would.) I can barely contain my joy at this feeling of victory! I must remain quiet and unassuming, however, or I will spoil my plan. Utes is due to return today, so I will close now and go check on Atu. Her wounds are almost healed and she keeps trying to get up and cut things (including beds, furniture and other goblins, apparently), and she will only be persuaded to stop if I am there. I am pleased by her trust in me, but she is beginning to wear me out. I hope she recovers fully soon, as I fear I am not good at nursemaiding people..


7th Sandstone, 201

There have been so many changes lately I can barely think where to begin. First of all, Atu has been moved into my room. This came as something of a shock to me, as my room is barely big enough to contain one person let alone two. However I can understand the need; Atu has been getting increasingly violent and threatens to damage the furniture in the barracks constantly, and Ber has simply decreed that Atu is now too dangerous to stay in the barracks anymore. As I have been spending almost all my free time looking after her anyway, I was apparently the natural choice. I suppose I do not mind, although it will make sleeping a little awkward.. As Atu was maneuvered into my room I realized suddenly that this meant she would see that damned engraving above my bed. Thankfully, she gave it only the most cursory of glances and muttered something about it being a 'good likeness' of me. I tried to stammer out an explanation about how it was all Snamoz trying to make me look bad, but Atu fell asleep before I could finish. I hesitated, but eventually decided to let her sleep.

Secondly, the dwarves have been sighted more and more often around the outskirts of the fort. Ber has ordered construction of a system of towers and walls to defend the entrance. Utes reports on the dwarves often when she returns from her hunting trips, and even though Ber has ordered her to keep the information between the two of them, she makes a point of telling me everything. I do not think Utes likes Ber, which makes it all the easier to be friends with her. Of course, she could just be a gossip, but information is information..
The dwarves have a leader, although Utes has never seen him. Their weapons are well crafted and they have begun carving their way into the side of the mountain and there are even signs of agriculture, so evidently they are here to stay. Our wrestlers have stepped up their training routine and Jackalincests has offered to help me practice with my sword in case of attack. The entire situation is making me nervous, as is the arrival of our newest batch of migrants.

In short, a swordsmaster has arrived. She arrived leading a pack of dust-encrusted migrants through the wilderness to our fort. After introducing herself to Ber, who was lounging by the stairs, she took one look at our militia and let out a sort of humourless barking laugh. She has disdained the use of the barracks and taken over one of the free rooms, and as nobody has the guts to confront her about it it seems she is here to stay. She has spent the last four hours meticulously sharpening and cleaning her swords while staring grimly at the wall. She has yet to even tell anyone her name. Somehow I get the feeling she is more dangerous than the dwarves..


10th Sandstone, 201

I am victorious! It took a little longer than I expected, and I certainly never imagined anything like this, but who cares? I can scarcely contain my glee! You will remember a few days ago that I discovered and successfully foiled a plot to embarrass me in front of the entire fort using a certain device that I will refrain from describing in detail. You may also recall that I successfully detached the trap and smuggled it into the room of that lecherous reprobate, Snamoz. I had hoped that when she returned from her shift that night, she would trigger it and my vengeance would be at hand. When nothing happened after a few days, I admit I simply forgot about it completely, assuming it had been discovered or failed to go off. As it happens, that was not the case.
It seems Snamoz is quite the socialite. The reason there was no uproar after the trap was discovered was because it hadn't been discovered. Snamoz had not spent a night in her own room for almost eight days. If I was feeling charitable I would assume she was simply spending her time in the communal barracks in order to allow her to concentrate on her work.. But I am rarely charitable. So, whoever she has been spending her nights with, they have most certainly not been using Snamoz's room. Until last night, that is..

It was late at night, and I was just preparing to crawl under my bed and sleep (Atu is still living here and has taken the bed. I have not had the nerve to ask why, but I assume she simply does not wish to go back to the stuffy, uncomfortable barracks just yet. Come to think of it, I do not know if she even has her own room.) when suddenly I heard a loud crashing sound. Instinctually, I flattened myself in the doorway of my room and tried to make myself as small as a scared rabbit could be. Peeking round the corner I saw that Snamoz had burst out of her room, slamming the door against the wall, and then went haring past me at a breakneck speed. If she noticed me she gave no indication, which added to my confusion; as I said earlier, I had completely forgotten about my little trap, and her behavior was as much a mystery to me as anyone else. In any case, I was mystified but chose not to investigate. My life is hard enough without poking around the room of someone like Snamoz looking for trouble. This was probably a good choice, given what happened next.
I was just settling down to try and compose my thoughts for this journal, struggling to concentrate amidst the noise (Atu snores, if you must know) when I heard a great rushing of feet coming up the corridor outside. For a moment, I was seized with the mad fear that they were coming for me, and I was suddenly incredibly thankful for the fact I was already hiding under the bed. I debated trying to wake Atu, but she is a notoriously heavy sleeper and the feet were approaching fast. Besides, as wretched as it makes me feel to admit it, there was always the chance that they would mistake her for me.

Thankfully I was mistaken and the situation never arose; the group pelted right past my doorway and stopped a little way down the corridor, around where Snamoz's room was set. I was intrigued despite myself. I managed to extricate myself from under the bed without waking Atu (not hard.) and padded over to the door. The moment I opened it, I heard a babble of conversation wash through the gap, and saw at least ten goblins gathered around Snamoz's doorway, including Utes who was at the back of the throng trying desperately not to laugh for some reason. Curiosity overcame me and I went over and tried to see what all the noise was about through the fuss, eventually managing to poke my head around the door at about leg height. When I think about what I saw in there, it still sends me into spasms of giggling, so I must be brief: It seems that Snamoz had not been intending to spend the night alone tonight either.

Trapped in the clutches of the devious little device, arms pinned to her side and with little more than a sheet to maintain her modesty as the machine did its insidiously perverted work, was Ber. Ber! Alternating between shouts of embarrassed rage and unintentional moans as the two wrestlers hacked and smashed at the machine jackhammering into her, the self-proclaimed queen could not have looked more ridiculous. I couldn't help it; I exploded with laughter, all the tension and fear of the last year flowing out of me in one insane spasm of joy and inappropriate hilarity. So unusual was my levity that the rest of the group simply sat and stared in stunned disbelief as I slumped against the wall and let out great heaving blasts of laughter. This then set Utes off, and before we knew it half the fort was howling with laughter at our leader's predicament. I made my crawling escape before she got free, as I was sure that she would kill us if she were able, and I was completely unable to stand. I still can't, two hours later. I believe Ber is free now, but she has no idea who was behind her disgrace, and I am sure the two goblins who planned to disgrace me are shaking in their boots just now. Victory is finally mine, and it is so very sweet! I can barely wait to tell Atu! If only she would stop that damnable snoring..

[[category: Dwarf Fortress]]
[[category: Stories]]