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Captain's Log. 13th of Moonstone.
I awoke today to be told that Flok was dead
BurnedToast was good enough to show me the Skeletal Elk, protecting the bloodstained tundra surrounding Flok's body.

Feeling the hilt of my axe, I knew what must be done.
Racing across the tundra, the murdersome Elk were soon piles of bones at my feet.

Captain's Log. 6th of Opal.
BurnedToast met with me today.
It was about my constant forays with the Elk.
He request that I stop hunting the antlered menace, instead only destroying those who come too near. He claims that currently, I have produced far more bones than we will ever use.
By myself.

I wish I knew where these things were coming from. There seems to be no end to them.
I'm sure I must have made a significant dent in their populations, but who can say. All I know is they keep coming, and I keep swinging my axe, as though in some sort of deranged endless dance.

Apart from yet another mandate I apparently made for more black bronze items, I seem to be getting saner every day. The brain damage I suffered was clearly only temporary.
We Dwarves are a stout lot, and can adapt to much.

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