Turning to the military… I see that our animal trainer is a civilian. I tell our captains to train the war dogs from here on out, not that we have many. The dogs will follow their trainers into combat, but after their inevitable sacrifice, they won’t be missed because the aren’t anybody’s pets.

Our squads are equiped with a mix of leather and metal armors in a way which I don’t believe is compatible. We have plenty of iron ore, flux and magma. This can only mean one thing: STEEL! Looking through the junk at our doorstep, it appears the goblins are exporting masks. These can be reused to protect our soldiers faces, which would otherwise be exposed.

That's more like it.

I see we have one of Armok’s whiskers! My predecessors have begun to tunnel around it, and I see fit to continue their work.

Whoops! Sorry Ashtesh.

It appears we have lost a miner to a magma pocket. Oops. I’ll need to engrave a slab.

Migrants have arrived: 21 new recruits! Well, 19 plus Monom Tourroofs High Master Engraver and a Kadol Cuttorches a High Master Surgeon.

I order all of our finished goods sent to the depot. 6 pages of troll fur clothing, stiff with goblin blood!

An alarm goes up: a black bear is frightening civilians. I hope those chicken livered elves don’t run off. I send a squad out to dispatch it.

That's some real fighting spirit there, Ast.

Our steel investment pays dividends.

Now that's a story to take your mind off the gutter cruor.

Luckily, the elves stick around to trade. Unluckily, our trader is dallying.

The baron is indisposed.

It appears that superaub has appointed himself baron, broker, bookkeeper and manager.

His reach exceeds his grasp.

I promote Ast the Jeweler to be broker, as he has some appraisal ability. He promptly takes a nap. I change his title to “Dwarf of Leisure”. Sigh. After some delay, we trade the elves a mountain of loincloths and slightly used sandals in exchange for everything of value that the elves possess (that is, cloth) in the hopes that they bring something better next year.