Build a large pot and a wood painter's workshop, and convert plants to wood.
Eh. I already chopped down a bunch of trees.
From the Journal of Pencil Pad:
7th Obsidian: River thawed today. Aside from my efforts to furnish the bedrooms, things have been uneventful. Well, except for the weather. It's raining again. Even if it is unfinished, the roof keeps some of the wet off.
Everything around here is a depressing shade of brown. It bums me out, and I don't seem to get much done. Not that I really am doing a lot, aside from administrative work. It's a job that needs doing, but, oh well.
The resident mayor has imposed a ban on electrum items. I wonder why? It's not as if there are any traders in town, and, to be frank, we don't use much of the stuff. His mandate for shields a month ago was much more sensible.
17th Obsidian: A goblin ambush was spotted today. The majority were wielding maces, but one carried an axe. I sent the militia after them. Our Militia Commander, Crazy Rubbedhoney, the Planter-Fortress of Beaks, was first on the scene, and basically slew them all himself. One managed a single swing, deflected by his armor, before being put down. It tried to crawl away from the battlefield, before collapsing from loss of blood.
The rest were either slain, or fled the site. Crazy or not, Rubbedhoney has my respect.
18th Obsidian: The unthinkable has happened. While the militia was out on patrol, the goblins attacked again, and this time weren't spotted until they were coming into the fort entrance! We were alerted to still another squad when they ran into one of the many skeletal geese that roam our land, and to top it all off, a rainbow pony caravan has arrived to trade, as well as a caravan from our own homelands.
Things can't get worse.
20th Obsidian: Well. In retrospect, I suppose I overreacted. Not a single trader was harmed, and neither was a single member of our militia. The goblins were completely routed, and aside from a bit of a scare, no one is the worse for wear.
The traders are currently bartering for our mechanisms, and the militia commander is having a well deserved rest.