From the Desk of Kol Atisineth, Mayor, Tobulkulet, The Anger of the Ancients, The Quiet Trumpets, 25th Obsidian, 258.
The goblin armies of our enemy The Oceanic Witch have grown smart. They used to attack in small raids during the spring, before the elven caravans, but since building the outer walls and field of traps they began to lay siege during the long winter. We could hold up in our burrows safe and warm, while they had to suffer the chill winds and snowstorms in the minefields, and either bleed, freeze or starve themselves to death.
But someone amongst their ranks must be thinking. They began sending small scouts in the fall, timing their attacks to your yearly caravan. Then two years ago, they got their timing down. They hid out in a precise triangular ambush formation, about fifteen of them in three groups. Your liaison fell right into their trap and was slaughtered just outside our walls. The caravan made it through just fine though, and we we're able to supply ourselves for the long winter.
The year following was quiet. Too quiet, I told the Baroness, but she was too busy overseeing the construction of her tomb. The Oceanic Witch was building her armies. Just this fall, they struck, with the biggest attack force yet, nearing the hundreds. Their timing was impeccable, just as soon as the caravan and liaison reached our borders. It was a mad race to the gates, but ended in massacre. The sparse caravan guards we're no match, your Highness. Your warriors' names lay inscribed in memorial slabs in our catacombs.
We unleashed a pack of war dogs on a good fraction of their force, and our maksdwarves took many of the rest out from our towers. They fled, as per usual, but this time they left behind a small contingent of trolls camped outside our walls. I'm happy to report that the siege ended today, as they last of the trolls finally succumbed to the drop in temperature. I hate to think of the stench of their grotesque corpses when they thaw come spring.
Your intended goods lay covered in a dusting of snow in the forests outside our pasture walls. Our top miners have pinpointed their locations and are digging tunnels towards them. Our masons are working furiously, churning out blocks of stone to build more walls. When the snows melt, we will be ready to reclaim the goods and almost double our pasture land.
The goblin dead supply us with an abundant amount of copper and silver, we have struck lignite which will double or fuel supply. The wealth of magnetite and cassiterite in our beloved mountainhome means more traps for the killing fields, more bolts for my dwarves, and maybe a bronze statue or two for the dining halls.
Who knows if the goblins will ever cease their attacks, but maybe it would be wise to better defend the caravans with more guards in case of another attack like this.
The Blessing's of Bal upon You, Your Majesty
Always Your humble servant, Kol Atisineth
