We are here.
This is the place the cartographers selected. Over there is the Urn-Ocean of Snot, a strange but fertile sea, and we stand upon the very border of tropical and temperate biomes: It should be possible to plant and grow a great variety of food here.
I have formed friendships with my travelling companions on the trip out: indeed I believe we are all friends with one another. It is good that we get along so well: we will be spending a lot of time in each others company in the future, and it would not be practical to be griping at one another.
In my capacity as bookkeeper, I will here record here some details about my friends and companions.
We are all dwarves of The Basic Gates, and as such we all share the same pale brown hair, golden eyes and dark brown skin.
My name is Quasar Mothbronze. I am a woman of 65 years with very long hair in twin braids, and a bookkeeper with some leatherworking skill. With that in mind, I bought some naked mole dog leather along: I am certain I can use it to make some quality armour to protect myself and my companions from the dangers of the wilderness. I am told I have a good heart, and that I tend to laugh a lot, perhaps a little too often. That said, I do have a little difficulty with the spoken word, hence my preference for the written.
I love cavies for their adorable call. I do hope there are cavies out here.
This is our expedition leader, and farmer by trade, Kametec Housen Paddleveil. A large, muscular and extremely religious man of 59 years with very long mustache and beard under a bald head, he is a proficient grower with some milling and musical skill. He has quite the temper, is very stubborn and impolite, and may actually be a clinical sociopath. All in all, his god has seen fit to bestow upon him quite the unpleasant personality.
Luckily, he is not a stupid man and always willing to ask for help from those around him, which makes him easier to get along with than you might expect from the above description.
He ardently worships Alod, the god of Order, Duty and Healing.
Our armourer, Faker Fangirl Crystalcruxes. She is 70 years old, with neatly combed short, straight hair. Our expedition was exceedingly lucky to get a dwarf with any metalworking skill at all, so we didn't inquire further about her background. Her skill and talent are quite impressive, though perhaps slightly less impressive than she herself believes them to be.
Upon learning that we would have an armourer joining us, I ordered some spare cassiterite, malachite and charcoal with the expedition funds. It will take a few days to smelt it all into bronze, but we would never have been able to afford bronze armour and weapons. I'm quite proud of that little trick.
Sanctume Copperspears, a woman 63 years old, and our cook and herbalist. She has hair like mine: waist length and tied in double braids. I am certain she will be kept quite busy in the days ahead. She is obsessed with order and structure in her life, which will hopefully prove to be a boon more than a burden when it comes to organizing what is likely to be a significant workload.
Our carpenter, Mooney "The Human" Esteemedclasped, an absolutely massive man of 77 years, with average beard and hair length and an extremely long mustache. In spite of his overwhelming size he is a gentle man with no self-esteem to speak of: he mostly tends to avoid crowds, ask others for help, and think carefully before acting.
Drink changes him however: he has mentioned thoroughly enjoying the occasional drunken brawl. In spite of this, I consider him among the most level-headed and self-aware of my companions.
Planter and Thresher, Lunardog Tacticcity is a large, extravagant man of 62 years. I am quite certain he has never trimmed his hair, sideburns, mustache or beard: they are so long they render his face invisible behind a neatly combed fall of pale taupe strands. A magnificent image! ... is what he thinks, anyway.
Perhaps not the brightest dwarf in the mountainhome, but a competent planter and preparor of harvested plant stuff.
OOC: I will add bio's for our swordsdwarf and planter/thresher when someone claims them.
In addition to the dwarves, we also have Turkeys and Peacocks, and of course the horse and water buffalo that pulled the wagon. Hopefully we will be able to build enclosed pastures to keep them all safe from local predators (and worse).
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Topic: Breakfastpit - A Succession Farm - 44.12 (Read 68553 times)