1st Granite 201
Kagranar Reggigin wordlessly raised a hand, ordering the tiny caravan to a halt on a hill south of the volcano's summit, overlooking the woodland valley below. The Muskox groaned in delight as the wagon was unhitched from them, the dogs and cats wandering about stretching, and the six Dark Blades under Kagranar's command gathered about in a loose semicircle behind him, taking in the land around them.
They had placed their wagon on a plateau overlooking the Disemboweled Flames' caldera in the northeast and the jungle valley below, through which cut the Spurthates, which would join with the Villagefolded further north, and the Tainted Magicians even further on, before running east all the way to the sea. A small rocky outcrop just west of their wagon would make an excellent entrance for their initial settlement, though the lack of nearby obsidian or ebony would eventually require them to relocate to more suitable grounds. Further, there was the matter of searching for the adamant rumored to lay nearby.
There was much work to be done, and little time to waste. The Dark Halls of Fear had to be prepared as quickly as possible.
Kagranar turned to regard his subordinates, who would be his only comrades present until the settlement's viability had been determined, and such decisions were still a year away. Bomrek, the huntress, stood proudly with her hunting dogs clustered around her, Mira the cook sheltering within her shadow. The miner Ark Darkhelm, also an accomplished swordsman, stood with his fellow miners Franclorn and Modgud. Finally the curiously-named Hank - he insisted he'd taken the name from a human in the north, along with said human's life and flesh - could be found loafing about with the war dogs, the expedition's sole battle axe hefted over his shoulder. Appropriate, as 'Hank' was their woodcutter.
"Alrighty Dark Blades, listen up. There's digging to be done, and we should get that out o' the way quick as possible. Hank, go scout 'round the brook and see what we've got to worry 'bout."
"Right away boss.", Hank replied, turning and jogging down the hill toward the valley below, one of the war dogs trailing behind him.
"Good. The rest of you, to your picks. I want shelter and stockpiles set up by the end of the month. Get to it!"
"You got it, boss!" the Dark Blades chorused.
Smiling grimly, Kagranar hefted a pick, turning to regard the rocky outcrop behind them. With a few quick hand gestures and terse grunts, he signalled to his fellow miners where to dig, then raised his pick and charged the rock like it were a mortal enemy, roaring out a battlecry:
"STRIKE THE EARTH!"