[Loyal]

Diary of Urdim {unintelligible}, Knight of Besmar Tarmid;

4th Moonstone, 56
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I've decided to keep this journal in case our mission should fail, so that someone might know of our plight and Besmar Tarmid would not be forgotten by history. As there's little to report right now, perhaps I should write about how we got in this situation in the first place.

It's been nearly a year since the catastrophe at the mountainhome. A year since we sent those hapless seven out to succeed where we had failed, to escape the megabeasts and forge a NEW mountainhome, one that would be invincible.

But that was only one part of Besmar Tarmid's plan for survival. A few months prior to that, at the order of our wise queen an able-bodied few of us, twenty in all, were to travel to the deepest parts of the mountainhome with all the food and supplies we could bring. When we asked why, we were told of a plan to expand deeper into the mountains, and that we would need a forward outpost, INSIDE the mountain of all things, to accomplish this.

If only that were the truth of the matter. When the megabeasts struck, our true reason for being in that little pit became apparant. We weren't expanding. We were hiding, in case something went wrong with the real survival plan. There, deep within the mountain while our brothers and sisters were slaughtered wholesale, we would be safe from the dragon's fire and the titan's might. There we would be forced to endure the screams of the dying. We all wanted to go out and help, to battle the beasts, to do something, but Captain Rockedriver assured us that this was what the queen wanted.

I'd like to believe that our duty to our queen was what kept us down there, but I know it was just as much the fear, and the shame of helplessness, that did the job just as well. So we stayed put, and we waited. And waited. After some weeks the screams of our fallen would eventually fade away, and a few of us would peek out to survey damages and find any survivors within the scorched, partially-collapsed rubble that once was our home.

The megabeasts had long since left the area, convinced in their total victory. Praise the queen for her good judgment, that some of us would survive. Sadly, Besmar Tarmid's days were over. Very little could be salvaged, aside from a few bits of food to replenish our stockpile. There was nothing we could do here... and there was only one thing to be done at all.

We had to find those seven dwarves.

We split up into ten groups of two, carrying what we could, and set out to find out where - and if - our salvation had headed off to. I set off with my faithful squire, whose loyalty had no peer, and whose skills and knowledge of blueprints and machinery would be a great help to the Seven, should we ever find them. We will never give up, we will do whatever it takes to survive.

(After a long series of quick journal entries, mostly talking about passing fauna and queries to passing human and elven towns...)
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20th Obsidian, 57

A lead at last! After two years of searching, troubles, and despair, we happened upon a human caravan which spoke of a small dwarven settlement along the buttery freckles that they called "Workgill". I thanked them for their time and asked them to relay this information to any other travelling dwarves they should happen to meet.

In the time we've travelled, we've seen a great deal of things both marvellous and revulsive. My squire has grown from a simple apprentice to a noble warrior, and our experience would surely be welcome in the new mountainhome. We set off in the afternoon with a renewed vigor in our step.
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1st Granite, 58

We've finally arrived at Workgill, and not a moment too soon. It appears that the previous overseer has abdicated his position in favor of the pursuit of justice. After explaining our situation to the locals, they promptly declared me to be the new overseer. Me! In celebration, my squire, Loyal, was promoted to a full knight so that he may lead our military in the coming months.

The work of a knight is never finished. I will see Workgill rise to power, or die trying.