1st Granite, 301, Early spring.
The wagon creaked across the rough surface of the glacier. Onboard it were seven dwarves, each with varying looks of discontent on their grizzled, hairy faces. The first one was Exo, a miner from the southern mountainhomes, who dabbled in masonry from time to time. He was the leader of the expedition, and grasped in his hand a freshly cut paper scroll. Well, Freshly wouldn't describe it that well. Not in terrible condition would be better. On it was scribed the writ which he was issued to form a fortress, giving him and his group domain over the region of land that had been selected for their fortress. Not that he or any of them had any choice in the matter. It was chosen by a bureaucrat somewhere, in the mountainhomes. The wagon creaked as he shifted his leaned back against the wooden surface, holding the scroll up in front of himself. Aside from the long fine print that mostly covered the offwhite paper surface, the words "NISH MONDUL" crested the paper. A name that was assigned. "Traded Graves" He muttered alloud. Simon, the appraiser who the bureau of foundation had insisted on taking, sighed quietly under his breath, a puff of condensed air emitting fron his face wrappings. The piercing cold had been a topic of no small amount of complaining during the entire journey. "Don't start again, Simon." Exo growled at him, lowering the scroll so that he could achieve eye contact. The other dwarves pensively gazed through the rear of the wagon, the endings of the fabric which covered the wagon swaying with it's movements. They were, Chjees, a Farmer from the west, Y'Golonac, a felon recently paroled after being jailed for killing a nobleman's pet, Hunty, a particularily docile Axedwarf, Rist Shul, a fat, portly Brewer, and Gerard Flex, a miner, who always insisted upon just being called "G-flex".
The wagon jolted to a stop. The camels refused to go further, possibly due to the cold, or the rough ice upon which they treaded for so long. They were at the southern edge of a large glacier, the name of which they had long since forgotten since they lost the only map they had brought.
"Eh.. Alright, everyone out, this is.." He paused mid sentance to gaze across the frigid landscape. "This is the place.." His words muffled through the pigtail scarf wrapped over his mouth, his beard protruding like a hairy bush from beneath the cover. He was the first out of the wagon, his boots hitting the ice and snow in a soft crunch. Taking a few steps forward, prodding the ground with his foot, he turned around. The others piled out, Simon being the last, his dull blue administrative robes becoming speckled with small bits of snow and ice. Hunty, the Axedwarf, trundled around the side of the wagon and unhooked the camels, the hairy beasts standing in place a few seconds before wandering around the wagon, sniffing at the ice. "Stay close now." He muttered at them, before unslinging his axe and leaning against it, the tip pressing into the ice.
Exo looked south, at the edge of the glacier. "Over there. Peat. It's frozen over, but it should be arable under the surface.." he began walking towards the edge of the glacier. "Make sure you don't freeze!" Chuckled Rist, the brown hair of his beard shifting about in the cold wind. Chjees bit his lip softly as he began unloading the barrels of alcohol, grinning under his beard, though noone could tell. "The wonderful thing about alcohol, it doesn't freeze, even in the coldest conditions." He muttered.
(Doober, I only need a name and a profession. The more info, the better.)
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Topic: Nishmondul, "Tradedgrave" (A Community Fortress) (Read 943 times)