1st Granite, 143, Early SpringWell, we're here.
And I immediately regret making this decision. I'm breathing hard on my hands to keep them from freezing as I write this, surrounded by the pigs to keep myself warm. I cannot even covet my beehive until we've found some warmer delvings.
For now, we have enough supplies to keep ourselves afloat until we find a way to grow in this desolate plain of ice; how we will thaw the water to drink, let alone find suitable soil is beyond me, but the others are more optimistic. Maybe it would be better if there were bees, here.
Bees help every situation.
I have assigned enolate, our metalcrafter, to begin digging us some rough dwelling space to escape the winds, though I doubt living in an ice hole will help us fare any better.
7th Granite, 143, Early SpringBy Armok himself!
There are corpses here, reanimated by some fell magic, that wander the glacier just near us. They are emaciated and frostbitten, but they still wander as though they were alive! This place is more inhospitable by the day.
Our resident swordsdwarf, Matoro, has taken up their sword, just in case the creatures find us as an easy meal.
Can they even digest?
22nd Granite, 143, Early SpringWork on a gathering area under the glacier is coming nicely. enolate seems to be taking to mining as well as they take to metalcrafting. Good thing they have, as I doubt we'll find any way to smelt in this frozen hell.
The wolf corpses still prowl the glacier without purpose, and I hear their throatless keening over the whispering air. Truly, this was a mistake, but we must persevere for our kin!
25th Granite, 143, Early SpringA snow storm has come! We must move the provisions inside soon, or they will be buried beneath the snow.
And I must ensure my beehive is brought in before anything else. It is sacred.
The bees will not endure the cold without my warm, loving care.2nd Slate, 143, Mid-SpringA Yeti's corpse has sauntered up the glacier to our south. His azure eyes are visible, even from this range, and they speak of the endless winter we will endure here.
The bees tell me he is but one among many, and they will bring only our prosperity.I have asked around, and it seems none of us have worked with stone enough to build anything. When I asked if they thought it possible to build with the ice, they exchanged looks of surprise and confusion.
I suppose I shall do it myself.
The bees will know how.There are sketches of bees and ice here. The bees are swarming. The ice is stolid.I cannot seem to make any sort of furniture out of the ice without it freezing to my hands. The others complain of no room to sit, but I tell them it will be ice thrones, or ice floors. Perhaps someone can take some wood we brought and fashion doors and chairs for these sniveling plumpers.
11th Slate, 143, Mid-SpringSloth has stepped up and made us two doors of oak, and I have ordered them firmly shut. Perhaps our body heat will keep us from freezing here, but I do not hold hope.
We must dig further into this glacier in search of anything useful. Perhaps there is soil or ore somewhere down below? enolate will know.
27th Slate, 143, Mid-SpringThe bees buzz quietly in their hive. The others cannot hear them, but that is no surprise; none among them knows the delicate care these creatures need, the mix of attention and distance that lets them live in harmony with dwarvenkind.
They will not touch my hive.8th Felsite, 143, Late SpringHorse and pig dung litters the floor, yet it barely smells before it is frozen to the floor. Perhaps there is some benefit to this place.
I have ordered the two horses that brought us here slaughtered, that they might fill our bellies for a while longer. I fear what will happen when our stores run out.
10th Felsite, 143, Late Spring
BY THE MAKER, THE SKIN HAS COME TO LIFE!
12th Felsite, 143, Late SpringIt has struck Matoro down! Mafol says he knows how to wield a hammer, and I cry desperately to him to grab one from the wagon! Perhaps if we assault it head on, we may stand a chance!
I WILL NOT DIE HERE.
THE BEES NEED ME.13th Felsite, 143, Late SpringI do not know what devilry lies here.
I do know that it has struck one of our own down with the skin of an animal.
I do know that we will not be laid to waste by our own.
I do not know how long we will live.
15th Felsite, 143, Late SpringI have ordered enolate to dig a hole for the remaining horse, that we might pen it there to starve. A mere skin, one we have since called Kônrëcus, managed to cut down a trained swordsman faster than we could save him.
Who knows what this place will do to a full corpse.
We must dig DEEPER.
20th Felsite, 143, Late SpringAs we were attempting to pen the horse, the corpses of ice wolves came out of nowhere and nearly caught us out!
We must inter poor Matoro in a casket of wood.
We must forbid outside travel for now!
WE MUST NOT FALL.
24th Felsite, 143, Late SpringShorast has killed Matoro, now dead a second time. Even the horse's hair has fought back.
This place is forsaken.
Large scribbles of Shorast the Farmer fighting and biting horse hair are sketched here, crude and disturbing. There are bees in the distance, watching passively.
Olon and Mafol have been caught outside. I kept screaming to them to get inside, to run and hide, but they must not have heard over the icy cries of the wolves.
I do not know if they will return.
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Topic: Whispersships: A History of Insanity (Succession Game; Looking for Players!) (Read 24948 times)