Seven dwarves had set off from the mountainhomes, weary of the constant sieges they slipped a caravan away under the cover of night. They knew not what laid in store for them, but anything had to be better than the crowded mountainhome.
It's been years since they embarked, and their supplies are running low. They've been trekking through a long desert trying to reach hospitable lands, but now it would seem they're left with no choice but to strike the sands. On second thought this might be the land they were looking for; after all, who would send a siege to a desert?
This is Tolka, expedition leader of The Farm of Deserts, I've decided to keep a journal of this accursed red place. We've had a miserable few years, but at least we had the basic comforts. We're running low on supplies now, and the rest of the group thinks it would be best we make camp before we run completely out. There doesn't seem to be any water nearby, so I ordered the farmers to plow some nearby sand...I'm not sure if they can even grow anything on it.
We've been planning this fortress before we even left, and with a few modifications I'm sure the miners could make it. Before I could even pull the plans out the miners grabbed their picks and left, chuckling as they said "Plans? Who needs em?" This worries me greatly.
The miners approached me today to show me the dining halls. The rocks that were littering the place were the least of my concerns, as they have turned my dining hall into a guild hall!
The fortress layout will have to wait another day though, I have just been informed by the carpenter that we are out of logs. A quick scout of the area confirms that there isn't a tree anywhere. I had some food dumped out of barrels to make room for more booze, and ordered the miners to dig down in hopes of water.
Sand, sand, sand. Everywhere I look it's sand. If it isn't sand, it's rock. Oh what I wouldn't give for a nice green tree, or a green fish, hell even green water would be welcomed. Red, red, red. It's as if the sands themselves had been bled out of hell.
Eight buzzards descended on our camp today, but in a fit of rage our militia captain killed them all! With nothing but a wooden sword and shield, he skillfully dispatched them with ease. Unfortunately, by the time we got a butchers shop up the corpses had fallen victim to the heat. Curse this sun!
The miners have come back up, they said by their calculations they had dug -51 levels down, but no water is to be found. "DIG DEEPER" I bellowed, do they not know what fate lies in store for us if we don't find water? I don't know about them, but I'm tired of looking at sand and eating flour. I hope a caravan notices us and brings us something better.
*The next few pages are left blank*
...I have returned from down below, to the miners dismay I stole on of their picks and dug as far down as I could. Water...trees.....magma....
something. Anything other than rocks and sand, but no. I don't think there is water beneath us.
Winter? Is it winter? Surely a caravan would've noticed us by now. I can almost taste the roast fish, or lobster stew....
The winter is freezing...and then scorching...and then freezing...sand, sand, everywhere. If I eat it, will I care? If I drink it, will they stare? It's all so red, like fire rolling over the lands....the caravan must of gotten burnt by the the camels...
*The next few pages are filled with random scribbling and drawings of fish flying over dunes*
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Topic: Vushcuggan Geshud Moshnun Succession game (Read 7518 times)