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The Loyalists (Led by Pan)

The Revolutionaries (Led by Grimnir)

The Radicals (Led by Brewster)

[AustralianWinter]

Entry III - The Hills Have Veins

"Into our town the Hangman came.
Smelling of gold and blood and flame
and he paced our bricks with a diffident air
and built his frame on the courthouse square,"
 - Maurice Ogden, The Hangman, 1951


"By the river? Why would we dig into the mountain, beside the river?"

Grimnir didn't answer. He had other concerns in his head. He had stayed up long since sunset yesterday, and he was tired. Again. He had been discussing with Pan, trying to find some compromise, some way to construct their fortress. The miners were busy, shoveling enormous amounts of dirt out of the mountain, digging a passage directly into it.

Brewster had started his hunting as soon as there was enough light. Enough ligth was apparantly very little. Grimnir walked quickly across the ground - his target was the tunnel into the mountain, to assess what needed to be done by now.

The soil was soft and wet. They needed to go deeper. He left the tunnel, going back to camp. "Yaks," a voice set. Had he been a swifter Dwarf, he would have been starteled. He wasn't. Brewster sent him a strange smiley, as he dropped the yak at his feet. How he'd even managed to carry that all the way was a mystery.

"GOLD!" a voice yelled, ecchoing across the hills. "WE'VE STRUCK GOLD!"

"Praise the miners!" voices cried in unison, as tradition would have them do. Grimnir smiled another rare smile. He would butcher the yak in celebration, he decided.

OOC:

Pan is level 3 Judge of Intent, level 3 Appraiser, level 2 Persuader and level 2 Record Keeper.

[Brewster]

Scroll 2

The account of our embark. I need not bore you comrades with flowery words but knowing details is always important in everything you do.

We loaded the wagon and said our goodbyes. I embraced my only family member, my uncle, and the seven of us departed. I've traveled the path a hundred or more times and knew where we were going without even a map. Hammerscar, as the fortress was later named when we arrived, had a few notable founders. The group had a strong leader named Grimnir. He was an old veteran of the Goblin Wars. His brother-in-arms Reaver joined us, he too was skilled with an axe. A wealthy trader named Pan, whom most in Mountainhome had heard of, but knew little about.

The weeks passed as we continued our travels towards our goal. The woods are plentiful with game, a good omen. I've continued to watch Grimnir. He's a brooding man with a struggle in his heart. When you let emotion rule you, you make mistakes, so I continue to watch him. I note the birds are migrating already, a good omen. Pan spoke with me on the trip, I'm sure to feel me out but we exchanged pleasantry and little else was said. Finally, we arrived and Grimnir actually smiled. It's been too long, I hope I can go hunt soon.

[Pan]

OOC: Huh, turns out I did do the +3 Judge of Intent. Oops. Guess I should have checked before panicking. 

__________

Praise the miners indeed! The gold would make a good trade, Pan believes. Even if no one has skills and experience with the working and bending of metals, Pan is willing to sacrifice quantity for quality for at least the first supply caravans. After all, gold in the hands is better than gold in the head.

[AustralianWinter]

Grimnirs Manifesto - The Words of Hammerscar

My name is Grimnir, and I'm here to ask you a question. Surely, is a dwarf not entitled to the sweat of his brow?

No, says the King in the Mountainhalls, it belongs to me!

No, says the Priest in the Temples, it belongs to the Gods!

No, says the soft and weak civilians, it belongs to everyone.

I reject those answers. I choose something different. I chose Hammerscar, where the ancient traditions will live. Where the only monuments are to Armok, and to the heroes of the Dwarves. I refuse to be a tyrant - a tyrant stagnates, and forgets what should be done, while he becomes lazy and linger about on his throne.

I tell you, the gold in the underground will be HAMMERS before it is jewelery. This is my promise to you, and by Armok, I will keep my word.

[Slothman400]

I want to be dorfed.

Name:Sloth
Occupation:pump operator/cheese maker.
I want him to have superdwarven strength and endurance before putting a hammer in his hands.

[Durmatagno]

Are their any turns left?

If so I also want a dorf

Name: Drake
Profession: Smith (Smith, he has levels in all the smith skills, or at least the labors enabled)
Weapon of choice: War hammer
Personality: Headstrong but cares more for the the other Dwarves than himself. Will defend to for to his last. (The rest is mostly unknown to the dwarves, as he is secretive)

[AustralianWinter]

I want to be dorfed.

Name:Sloth
Occupation:pump operator/cheese maker.
I want him to have superdwarven strength and endurance before putting a hammer in his hands.

That's uh, that's a bit useless. Mind if I give him some other skills? (Also, does cheesemaking give you any useful stats?)

@Durmatagno, yes, lots of turns left.

[Brewster]

I just wanna headshot a gobo!!

[NRDL]

Love the Andrew Ryan speech. 

[Slothman400]

You can give him other skills. Cheese gives you strength and endurance, like most crafting. I want pump operator so he can use his own screw pump gym. Mining would be good.

[Pan]

How are things going?

[AustralianWinter]

Entry IV - Halls of Stone and Sweat

A month had passed. A thousand swings of the pick and hammer in the hills, had carved out a minimal living area for the expedition. Grimnir, Pan and Reaver had taken to stand just outside the gates, discussing their future plans.

"I've felled at least a hundred trees these weeks," Reaver said, a glimpse of tire in his voice. Grimnir did not answer. "For what purpose, old friend?" he pressed on, his voice not accusing.

"Fire," said Grimnir, and Pan let out a quiet laughter. Reaver smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. "The miners are digging out the tunnels we designated last week. The kitchen, the still and the butchery should be finished soon enough. We won't starve, that's for sure."

Grimnir nodded.

As they left the meeting spot, the echoes of the picks reached Grimnir's ears. "A thousand cuts," he mumbled, as he went down in the darkness, to butcher another yak.

Entry V - Battleforged, fireforged soldiers

As the Thrip-folk showed up, there was an initial confusion to what should be done about it. Reaver quickly cleared this up.

"We drive them away. This is our land, and it should be clear to every damn wildling, bird, elf or goblin!" Other nodded in agreement. Grimnir too, after a short while. And thus, the militia of Hammerscar was formed. Reaver was named Captain, and promptly named the first squad "Heavenly Standards". Ironic, though Grimnir to himself, as he picked up his axe.

Four dead thrips. The only injury the militia sustained, was a strained ankle. Brewster didn't even grumble about it. In fact, Reaver grumbled more about thirst than injury.

Blood was drawn, and it was not dwarfblood.



OOC:

There's progress. To all the people wanting an axedwarf, could a swordsman suffice? There's a couple in the latest batch og migrants.

[NRDL]

Sure. 

[Brewster]

So was Brewster hurt or whom was hurt??!
Where'd the second YAK come from!?

[AustralianWinter]

No one was hurt, and Brewster killed the second yak. He's also put a couple bolts into a giant frog, but I don't think they'll be eating that.