From atop his high pestle, the Royal Captain of the Guard looked down his long nose at the dwarf that was brought before him.
"Urist MegaHelment, you stand here before this court guilty of treason. Death or exile?"
"Damn you an this court! I'll be dead sooner than live like elf!" Urist spat vehemently.
The judge smiled grimly.
"Very well then! Death!....by exile!"
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Spring, 251'Tis been a hard year, cursed to live in this country never knowing the sweet touch of earth ever again. Working under the gaze of that awful yellow eye. How do the elves stand it? I've been given charge of all the exiles to make an existence of sort out here. If I can make it 10 years, then my case might be heard again. As of this writing, none have returned from exile.
In the first year, we managed to erect a small fort and get most of our goods inside. We have some crowded sleeping chambers, some haphazardly placed dining tables, and with some careful planned accidents managed to knock a hole in the brook. There be a volcano on the top of that mountain, but securing it has been difficult. The commander lost his hand to gators that run rampart. McGlazer got himself killed in the brook piercing accident. Someday we hope to find a way to bury him.
Just as we finished clearcutting the forest, we found a wonder discovery. We can gather clay. We're a way from making bricks, but can use the raw clay to build walls. It should hold up fine for that. Hopefully, next year we can trade with caravan. This year, we had no choice but to rob it. But what did they expect, we are all criminals here.