Entry 1 - The 15th of Obsidian, Year 170

The air feels thick with unspoken worry. Whispers have turned to shouts, and those shouts into grim orders. The humans, bless their soft hides, were the first to feel the sting of this new enemy. They fell apart like poorly built walls, their squabbles tearing them asunder. The elves, haughty as ever, thought they were immune. But even their tree-hugging grace is now threatened. We received the call from the Mountainhome. Every fortress, every hold, must stand as one. War is here, and we shall answer it with iron and fury. I feel a familiar rumble in my gut, not of hunger, but of the coming battle. Skullcrusher thrums with a strange energy, eager to be put to work.

Entry 2 - The 2nd of Granite, Year 170

A delegation of elves arrived today, all but weeping. They, the masters of the forest, crawling to us, groveling for aid. It seems their arrows falter against this foe, and their magic is not enough. They spoke of horrors, of unstoppable waves pushing through the forests, leaving them shattered. I almost sneered, but I saw the fear in their eyes, a fear as deep as the chasms beneath the mountains. We agreed to fight with them, not for them, but with them. This enemy must be truly terrible if it can break an elf's pride. Preparations are underway. The forges roar day and night, forging axes, spears, bolts and anything else that can be put to war. I have already sharpened Skullcrusher thrice over, the adamantine gleams like a star with each pass.

Entry 3 - The 17th of Slate, Year 171

The first engagement. We took a flank, me leading the charge with my own squad: Gorm, the unyielding shield, Belin the twin axe master, and young Thrain with his newly crafted crossbow. We ambushed the goblins as they marched through the narrow pass. Their numbers were substantial, but their organization was lacking. My Skullcrusher sang. Each swing crushed bone and skull, the sapphire eyes glistening with a vicious light. Gorms's shield held strong, Belin's axes whirled like a storm and Thrain picked them off with deadly precision. Kill. Kill. Kill. I lost count of how many fell beneath our axes. For a moment, we were a machine of pure destruction. Then came the exhaustion, the aching muscles. We rested, cleaned our weapons, and tended to the few wounded.

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Entry 4 - The 12th of Obsidian, Year 171

The war is a relentless tide, pushing at us, pushing and pushing. We returned to the fortress to restock and resupply. The mountain is a hive of activity. We are not just soldiers anymore, we are inventors, improvisers. New siege weapons are being tested, crossbows with devastating power are forged, and even our armor is being improved. We've learned to use their own tactics against them, setting traps, luring them into kill zones. The idea came from young Thrain, who has an uncanny knack for analyzing the enemy's movements. We are becoming more than just dwarves, we are a war machine, forged in the fires of this conflict.

Entry 5 - The 25th of Limestone, Year 172

More battles, more victories, but at what cost? The smell of blood and burnt flesh is a constant thing now. I see it in the eyes of even the most veteran warriors. The joy of the fight is fading, replaced by a grim determination. I feel it myself. Sleep doesn't come easy, and the roar of the forge, even the laughter of my kin, feels a tad too loud. Still, Skullcrusher sings to me in the night. It whispers of the battles yet to come. I will not let the mountain fall. We will not fail. We are dwarves, and we will endure. The enemy will feel the wrath of the Mountainhome.

Entry 6 - The 1st of Felsite, Year 172

We received word today that the smaller fortresses have been destroyed and now all the refugees are coming to us. The fortresses of the mountain are in shambles as the war takes its toll. A somber mood has taken us all, as we prepare to receive more warriors ready to fight. The enemy is not letting up and we have to stand strong.

Entry 7 - The 10th of Felsite, Year 172

We will prevail. The refugees that have made to us are all great warriors that have fought in the front line. Their experiences are a well of knowledge, each sharing their own stories with the others and learning from our own fort's experiences. We are now more than ever a war machine. Skullcrusher is hungry. The enemy will pay.

Entry 8 - The 15th of Felsite, Year 172.

Today we marched out again. The plan was simple, we will lure the enemy near our great hall with the new siege weapons. Then we fight them head down. The plan worked to perfection. We butchered them all. A hundred goblins fell by my hand alone. The rest of the warriors fought as a single unit. I have never seen anything like it. The enemy fell, their screams were sweet music at that moment. Skullcrusher is happy. The mountain will endure.