The magma has cooled. The maddened inhabitants of West Headshoots have all perished. All that is left are the legions of mangled animals, refusing to die no matter how hellish their wounds:
There's over 70 animals wandering around like zombies in there. Place gives me the willies. Engravings of dwarfs running around on fire, killing each other. Let's make East Headshoots grand enough to rival what West Headshoots once had been. Surely we can learn from our past mistakes, and not grow as arrogant as we once were...
Life was peaceful for a while, as I ordered the men to brew more beer, crank out stone tradecrafts, smooth out the tunnels, and prepare for the spring caravan. This year, we must swallow our pride and out of necessity trade with those bastards. Barely two weeks into the year, though, the goblins besieged us!
I ordered all the civilians inside, and because with so many marksgoblins in their horde, it would be foolish to fight on open terrain, I stationed our military on our farms, just inside the door. Let their bloody corpses fertilize our crops!
The cowardly goblins refused to attack us, isntead cowering in three separate squads in the south and east of our land. So, I ordered our troops to engage each squad one at a time. First moving to the south, Tyskil led the charge, slicing off the entire right side of a goblin, from the shoulder to the leg!
After first whack:
Barely a single limb left un-lopped, our squad came out with only a couple minor head injuries. Early on an arrow glanced off Tyskil's upper spine, and somewhere in the chaos WanderingKnitter bruised his brain. It didn't take long to dispose of the first squad:
Holistic Detective led the charge on the second squad, a motley assortment of wrestlers and spearmen:
Confident in the protective power of Trailmachines the Fellowship of Right, her admantine platemail, she entered a martial trance, mowing through their flimsy ranks, slashing at the goblins surrounding her, launching one, chasing it down, and killing it in midair, while WanderingKnitter waded into the melee, launching one goblin 30+ squares away, dead on impact:
(The top-left dead goblin the the first image is the same as the bottom left dead goblin in the second, and the airborn goblin on the left is the top-right dead goblin in the second, to give a sense of how far it was launched)
From that point, victory was quick in coming, with most goblins becoming separated from their limbs by our axes and swords:
The third squad, composed of all the marksgoblins, turned tail and fled when they learned what happened to their compatriots. Headshoots is safe once more!