Kahdzbar’s Journal, Part 3

Things were a little bit tense after that meeting. I assured them that I’d do everything within my power to get those farms up and running, and that I would dedicate the full force of my managerial expertise to the project. I’m sure that assuaged their fears.

After dinner, I pulled Smiley aside for a candid chat. Obviously, I’d dropped the ball a little bit as a supervisor. I was willing to accept my share of the blame for this little snag. In trying times like these, it was clear that I’d have to draw on the strengths and adaptability of every member of my crew if we wanted to pull through. Which was why, effective immediately, she would be managing (her face lights up) the additional responsibility of our agricultural project.

She was modest, protesting that she knew nothing about agriculture. I reassured her that it was simple—just putting spores into the ground and keeping it watered, right? So simple even primitive dwarves managed it. Why, mushrooms grow in the wild all by themselves–surely, a competent, career-driven dwarf such as her would be able to sort out doing it on purpose.

The next morning, we set about finding some equipment for her. We ended up with: a plank from the wagon, to use as a shovel, a bucket, one of Fishy’s hooks, and a knife Rocky uses to cut rope. She took them, then set off into the fortress without a word. I can only assume she’s making progress.

Our other projects have gone pretty well, all considered. I decided it’d be a good morale boost if we got a dedicated living quarters going—get a couple beds inside, out of the rain, and we’d be that much happier. Of course, before we can get beds, there’s the small detail of getting together the wood to make them. And the carpenter’s shop to make them in. And the carpenter. As it turns out, none of my crew is much of a woodsmith, either. Rocky says he used to do some whittling when he was a kid, so I assign him to that task.

Now, just about everyone has something to do. Sparky is clearing out the new areas, blasting through massive sections of rock in frighteningly brief periods of time. She-Wolf is seen only rarely—once, she returned with a chipped axe, coated in blood that did not appear to be her own. None of us ask. Rocky has fashioned several very functional cots, a couple tree-stump stools, and a dining table large enough to handle at least three plates at a time. Fishy persists with his fishing at all times, including those moments where he speaking, filing reports, and using the lavatory. Smiley will disappear for hours at a time, emerge covered in soil, wordlessly eat a brief meal, then return to work with a determined expression. Twitch…has been doing odd jobs, such as moving discarded rock and moving discarded rubbish.

For the most part, things have been ideal. Finally, the fortress seems to coming together—the rough few days are past us at last. I can see no obstacle between us and our bright destiny.

((Scribe’s Note: At this point, a large bloodstain appears on the page.))