Excerpts from the journal of Lotu Sizzlediron, expedition leader.1 Timber 74I've finally finished inventorying the wagon's contents. Who in Armok's good name thought we would need
that much rock!? Dragging that stuff's going to slow us down by a
lot.
And why do we have so little food and drink?? On the plus side, two of our number are trained in weaponry, and their equipment was provided by the mountainhome (serendipity, as neither one could have afforded much on their own), but it's rather hit-and-miss. Mostly yak leather with, oddly, a pair of copper gauntlets each.
I've claimed the pick for myself, since no one else seems interested.
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The entries for the next several months detail the minutiae of the journey, with many complaints about the steadily increasing heat and an occasional mention of a pack animal's birth or death (and on one occasion, both as the camel involved died in the birth)._________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
14 Granite 75After a long and arduous journey that took all winter, we are almost there, and should reach our new home either tomorrow or the day after. I shudder to think what traveling through the scorching tropics during summer would be like. We lost many of the replacement pack animals to the heat and lack of water, but somehow the babies managed to survive.
During the journey, I've gotten to know my fellow travelers. Here's a brief summary of each.
Kadol seems nice enough, though a little put out at being sent so far.
Urist is also a "Proficient Diagnostician" (to hear her tell it). So why did she get
drafted chosen? I mean, training as a doctor must be the hardest, longest training choice a dwarf can have, so reaching Proficient must mean that she's at least decent at her job, and would be needed by the mountainhome, right? Though, I do remember hearing about a "Dr. Urist" that had been summoned to treat a soldier (back when I was a child). That doctor supposedly entered the room, said "Yep, he's bleeding to death," and promptly walked out to grab a drink. If you believe the tale, the soldier died before Dr. Urist returned. But surely this isn't that Dr. Urist. Surely?
Olin. Olin is a loner, a do-it-yourself type. I can't complain, she usually finishes what she starts. Usually.
Ushrir. Nothing much to say about her, except that she is ridiculously terrified of purring maggots. The entire trip from Theaterknowledge to Singedclasped (on the dwarven road through the caverns), she spent crouched in the very center of the wagon (on top of that massive pile of rock someone decided to
weigh us down gift us with), flinching every five seconds from their imaginary touches. I swear she didn't sleep until we reached the surface above Singedclasped.
Apparently Likot volunteered for this trip. He wants some peace and quiet. Well, it sounds like he's going to get that.
Kogsak seems to have drawn the short straw when the military was required to provide our second escort. But we could have had worse. At least he was a member of one of the surface squads, not the fortress guard. And he seems to be a reasonable sort of fellow.
And that's me! My mother named me Ast for my grandfather, but I prefer Lotu instead. I'm the leader of this expedition (though personally I think either Kogsak or Likot would have been a better choice). Well, I'll just have to do the best I can and learn as I go.
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15 Granite 75According to everything we were given, this is the place. Climbing down from the wagon, we look for the hill we were promised.
To the east...flat grassland with shrubs and some trees.
To the north...a mix of grassland and forest. Also flat.
To the west...the dense trees of of a tropical dry broadleaf forest. The understory is full of shrubs, and you can hear the scitter-scatter rustling of small animals. Still flat.
To the south...the forest thins out into more of that shrubland. Not a hill in sight.
We made a mad dash to pull out the maps, and sure enough, we were in the Lessened Hills. Well, on the edge, anyway. Apparently "lessened" means "missing". There were no hills, not a hillock, not so much as a molehill, anywhere as far as the eye could see. I did step on an anthill, but they don't count.
That pile of useless rock is suddenly not looking so bad.
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"All right." Lotu said, folding up the map. "Looks like we're here, so let's start--"
"Taking a break!" The others chorused. "Let's celebrate with a good drink!"
"That's a fine idea, but let's get the animals pastured first, so that they don't run off like the last time."
The reference to the nastiness that inhabited the Mire of Slaughter, a very aptly named tropical swamp, quickly sobered the group. Looking around, Kogsak, Likot and Ushrir soon set out a pasture just outside the forest boundary, and the herd quickly settled to feeding, apparently as relieved as the dwarves to have
finally finished moving.
"Where're the mugs?" Olin asked, digging through the camping supplies. "Urist, didn't you pack them?"
"No, I din't. Blame someone else."
"You had them last. I saw you!" Kogsak insisted. "You tripped on a log and the stuff you were carrying went flying along the riverbank!" He groaned. "They went
into the river, din't they?"
"We. Have. No. Mugs?" Olin was ticked. "I have to drink my rum straight out of the barrel!? How could you be so klutzy? You--" And things went downhill from there, as the others quickly chose sides in the escalating shouting match.
Lotu dropped his head into his hands. Dwarven tempers being what they were, things were rapidly spiraling into fighting territory and he really didn't want to deal with that today.
"Hey guys, guys!" When that didn't have any effect, he stuck his fingers in his mouth and blew.
TWWWEEEEET Blessed silence fell. "Now that we're here, we can make more mugs. All we need is a craftdwarf's shop and some wood. And someone to make them."
They seemed to be listening, so he continued while he had the chance. "Kogsak, grab your axe and chop down a tree or two. Or twenty. Ushrir, take one of these rocks and build a craftdwarf's. Then you can get some wood from Kogsak and make some mugs."
"Why do I have to work? No one else is." Ushrir grumbled.
"Because I'm not done. I'm going to grab a pick and see about hollowing out some rooms underground to get us out of the rain. Likot, patrol the area, and see if you can try to find anything that looks edible. Getting some more food and drink is a priority."
Silently Likot nodded, grabbed his bolts and crossbow, and headed off, looking relieved to get away from the short fuses still gathered near the wagon.
Spotting a group of badgers to the south, Lotu pointed to Kadol. "Why don't you build a masonry and start turning some of those rocks into blocks. We need to keep the wildlife out."
Lotu turned to Urist and Ushrir.
"Don' lookit me," grumbled Urist. "I'ma doctor, I need to study."
"Fine, go...find a place to build a library or something. Olin, build a carpentry. We'll need more barrels, and some beds to make ourselves comfortable."
Lotu watched for a minute as his dwarves scattered to their various tasks, good humor more or less restored. Then he hefted his pick and, whistling something that a creature from a far distant world might have recognized as "Heigh ho, heigh ho", walked off to do some digging.
OOC: Edited for name spelling.
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