Diary of 'Argembarger' Arrosudil
1st Granite, 551
We have arrived. You know, if you had told me last year that being a shrewd shopper was a crime, you'd've waddled off with an imprint of my designer boots on your ass.
Exile? Seriously? Am I not a dwarf? Does my skull not get jammed into my brain when I am punched, just as any other dwarf?
If my family actually had a problem with ME spending MY hard-earned money on a few pleasant worldly luxuries, they should have said something to me about it. Starving to death is just immature.
This world we live on produces such nice things. Just because I want to own them more than most doesn't make me some kind of sub-dwarf cretin. My neighbors at the Ships of Honoring were always awful; they probably just wanted me out of the way so they could snag all the best things at the market. That's gotta be it. I can't right blame them; I'd trump up dwarfslaughter charges on my own grandma if she outbid me at auction.
Well, they've clearly underestimated my cleverness and resolve. My name is Argembarger Throwerlanterns, and in my exile, I shall establish the world's most successful trading outpost! History shall mark my deeds and tremble! This season only, zero-interest financing for all caravan wagons loaded with at least 2000Γ in goods!
Trade brokers from around the world shall think of me before they sleep at night. Luckily, I won't be doing this alone. There were a few more exiles sent away at the same time I was. I've gotten to know a few of them on the walk out here.
First, there's 'Saint' Rabkadol.
He hasn't told me any of his skills, or anything. I don't think he has any. We'll soon change that. At any rate, he got exiled for, if I understand correctly, proclaiming to be some kind of holy dwarf and passing out pamphlets in a dining hall. I don't judge. If he's willing to work, I'll call him whatever he likes.
Next up is 'Monitor Lisard' Rithilral.
This gal's a bit kooky, I gotta admit. Seems she was a carpenter and whittler once upon a time. Talks about leopard seal teeth a lot, for some reason. Got exiled for misspelling "lizard". Hey, our civilization is unfair as hell. I can empathize. Her crafts should prove useful for the plans I have in mind.
Last is 'Uristoteles' Cudistadil.
This lady got exiled for sneezing all over a shipment of fine gems.
What the merchants don't know won't hurt us.
There's a few more of us. Atis, Imush, and Zas. All I know is that Atis is a farmer and brewer who got exiled for trying to modify a proprietary Dwarven Wine recipe, Imush is a mason and stonecarver who got exiled for carving an, erm, "poorly-endowed" statue of our mayor, and Zas is a woodcutter who got exiled for enjoying being outdoors too much.
I'm sure I'll get to know them a little better soon enough.
Speaking of the outdoors, here's the place my cousin tipped me on before I left the ol' homestead for good.
A serene, beautiful example of Mother Gaia's pristine grandeur I think some of these trees might need to go.
And by "some", I mean "most, if not all". Trees are nice, but what trader wouldn't like to buy an earring made from an entire full-grown oak?
Unfortunately, the exile was so fast that I wasn't able to bring my trusty hound. The only animals we've got with us are the ones that pulled our wagon. Some yaks. I wonder if their bones are valuable?
This hill looks kind of like an animal, though.
I dub this hill "Mt. Fatpooch" = = == === ===== ======== ============= =====================
I hope you guys enjoy my writing style.
We've got borders with every race. And goblins with whom we are at war. And a tower.
This is... going to be Fun.
I'm considering fortifying Mt. Fatpooch.
Stay tuned for updates, kiddos.