...
I love you.
Fine, but no touching!
Boksi: No soap roads, unfortunately. I needed roads quickly, and soap takes so much time producing. By the way, to anyone else who wants to make a suggestion, you're very welcome, but most of the time I'm far ahead of the thread. Especially now that I wanted to make sure of some things before turning this into an LP.
Spring, continued, by Tulon Tathurkivish, soaper extraordinaireThe few, the brave, the clean:
I managed to get a few quite skilled dwarves with me, thankfully. Litast is one of the finest miners of the mountainhome and all of them are experienced in several areas. I'm especially happy that Stākud came along with his steel axe and thorough knowledge of booze. We had a difficult decision to make when arriving, though.
To the south, we had a wonderful area with plenty of trees, foxes playing in beautiful springs, fertile ground and sand to turn into works of transparent art.
To the north, a crack in the mountain leading directly to hell and fifty shades of death.
But damn, those stones gleam!
We decided to play it safe and settle in the middle. Litast and Tirist got to work carving out a temporary hall for storage and beds, while the rest of us started hauling food.
Nothing of interest happened the first few weeks. The wildlife was threatening but kept passive while we got to work carving away slopes, building walls where necessary and hauling our arses off.
By the end of Slate, the naked mole dogs were getting a bit too close, and we decided in a 6-1 vote that we had enough wood, and Stākud should go chop off some heads instead.
He did quite well, except for the part where he decided to stop chopping off heads and start putting his hand in their mouths.
He was all pissed just because he had to walk home himself, and when he got to bed, Litast accidentally dropped a tiny little roof on his head. The big baby.
The important thing was that with a butcher's shop and a kitchen quickly thrown together, we finally had the first raw material we need for the soap tower! I asked Mafol where she'd put the vials, eager to get an alchemist's going.
"Weren't you supposed to bring the vials?" she replied.
Fuck.