A Tale Of Warning Regarding Wombats And The Misery Of Dastot Likotcagith Engigrithul Lar

Over the spring of year two hundred and fifty, Dastot Likotcagith Engigrithul Lar joined in the gleeful settlement of a Dwarven fortress, "Flickerchanneled," on the land known as The Abyssal Mire. It really is a land so inappropriately named since really it's a simple plain covered in dry sawgrass and cattail. Quickly, the community of Flickerchanneled established a staple crop, and the alcohol began to flow. The times were simple, and the bounty of the plains of the Abyssal Mire was kind to the settlement.

...Until Flickerchanneled was visited by Osnun Oslungokang, a bloodthirsty but otherwise adorable and seemingly harmless wombat, on a date forgotten since the monster was quickly and as the dwarves had thought, so simply slain. However, to the surprise of the settlement, a couple dwarves had fallen strangely ill in the months following that encounter. To keep the ill company, the chamber where the community would spend its free time had also became the place to keep these sick dwarves.

This ended horrifically, as on eighth Moonstone, year two hundred and fifty, those sick dwarves, all at once, suddenly transmogrified into werewombats. All inhabitants of the fortress but one dwarf was stricken down by the bloodthirsty adorable creatures in that meeting room's bloody mess. That only survivor was one of the transformed, our poor Dastot.

After transforming back into a dwarf, he languished on his own for some time after that, spending his days sleeping and tending to crops, enjoying the massive food stockpile left by his dead friends. He was completely alone back then, minus a scheduled annual visit by the treacherous elf traders, whom he simply ignored anyways like any good dwarf should. Here on his own, he grappled with what he had done, leaving the bodies to rest where they lost their life for four months, up until our settling group arrived on twenty sixth Slate of year two hundred and fifty one.

Calmly, he told us the story of what had occured, and what could occur to us too if he were able to freely roam about. After we laid his friends to rest for him, he helped us build a room for keeping him contained lest he would suddenly transform, and we finished it on tenth Felsite.

Occasionally we'd speak with him through the wall, and occasionally we'd hear him speak to the ghosts of his friends, Ustuth Ustathâm and Datan Uzolkadôl. On twenty first Felsite, that same year, we heard him scream out in agonizing pain, and we called to him, but he didn't respond until two days later. He refused to talk about what happened in that time, so we can just assume he had transformed then and we had, by eleven days, avoided the worst.

On the first of Hematite that year two hundred and fifty, we could hear him ranting "I got it! I understand now!" but he wouldn't explain to us exactly what his revelation had been. Since, he's grown more and more secretive and we worry what this could mean for his health. In the meantime, we can only carry on the torch of Flickerchanneled, and be vigilant in laying traps for adorable, bloodthirsty, wombats.

- Olon Dîshmablisat, the woman that helped Dastot wall himself off from the world.