3rd Granite
Once I had settled in and unpacked my things, I found that my work was quite cut out for me. Here is a quick sketch of what the outpost looked like.
There were two unidentified smoking piles of debris, which I could not immediately identify. When I queried why they were not doused, dumped into a lake, or otherwise dealt with, I was met with nervous looks and horror stories about dwarves that would burst into flames and remain unextinguished for months on end. How anyone could survive such incendiary punishment for any length of time was completely beyond me, and I did not believe it until I met the jeweler, who was indeed on fire and would not be put out. I am certain a dark wizard is behind this, or equally far-fetched supernatural being devoid of sanity
At any rate, it seems that the culprit behind this unusual un-consuming flame is cat leather exposed to fresh air. I do not understand why, and I do not have the time to question it as of now. This is simply a fact of life (unusually confined to this region.) I ordered any and all forms of said tanned hide to be dumped into the lake. I was promptly ignored, though I hardly blame them. We have no means of handling volatile materials such as this.
I needed a drink after hearing this nonsense. I was directed to the lake. As any reasonable dwarf would understand, I was more than displeased. I immediately ordered spirits, wines, ales, beers, and the like to be immediately concocted from whatever stocks we had.
Which brings me to the next unpleasant facet of this god-forsaken outpost. There had been NO documentation of stocks whatsoever. I took it upon myself to remedy this immediately, and seized a chair in the dining room and set to work documenting everything, from barrels to mushrooms to logs.
It seems that there were plenty of plump helmets to eat, and not much else, though I didn't need to do any bookkeeping to find that out. My fellows all complained of lack of food and loathing of the purple mushroom. I ordered a portion of them to be cooked, along with their spores to get as much variety in our collective diet as I could, and also requested that the peasants forage for local flora and see what would turn up. I have no doubts that anyone would turn their nose up at a muck root at this point, should that be the extent of what they find.
The food stockpile is sitting outside, in the rain by the way. The miners are confined to beds as a result of previous injury I've yet to be informed of. I ordered that the jewelers find a pair of pickaxes and excavate an area underground so that we might have storage for food and other things that should not get wet, and so that they might familiarize themselves with the nuances of mining. I do not know how long the previous miners will be out of commission.
you may notice in my sketch there is a billowing cloud of smoke. That is one of the jewelers, who refuses to remove his cat leather cap for reasons beyond me.
My work is cut out for me, and I need another drink.