An ambush? Curse them! To arms, soldiers! To arms!
The goblins attack from the north. As I call my dwarves to the safety of the Living Quarter and have my army meet in the barracks - as is standard procedure when there's an attack - another group of goblin hammermen and pikemen come from the west. They immediately attack and kill Melbzuth Tungatin, a woodburner who was... um... honestly I have no idea what Melbzuth was doing so far from home. I do know that she was carrying her baby, though, which is cool. Datanerith hasn't had a dead baby yet. Gotta start somewhere I guess.
"We're here to kill babies and fuck bitches, and we're all out of bitches!"
My military gathers in the barracks as the goblins make their marches to the Underpass. Once they're in the walls, they immediately butcher a kitten that crosses their paths. I think I'm supposed to find this barbaric. I would, I guess, if I hadn't just killed half a dozen cats and kittens for food and leather, myself. But then they killed my Crocodile! He put up far less of a fight than I had expected. He died without hurting a single goddamn goblin.
I send my militia out to attack. It's a massacre. Bolts flying, hammers striking down. The goblins never stood a chance. It was brutal and wonderful. I didn't lose a single dwarf. One guy had his hand broken, that's pretty much it. That's fine. I think Rakust was starting to get tired of treating all the dumbass dorfs who kept falling down the channeled holes they'd dug. Finally, a real war wound!
Two squads of soldiers is a little tougher than a fucking kitten, ain't it?
Three of the goblins get caught in my cage traps. I carve out a small, dank section below the jail cells and shove them in. These are the Black Cells. They'll linger there until I find some use for them. And I will find some use. Maybe a gladiator pit. Maybe target practice. Something fun.