Music for the inclined reader:
Nightwish - The IslanderExcerpts from the journal of Ghinn Omergoden,
refugee from The Tame Volcano.
7th of Galena, 1286
We embark on our expedition tomorrow. In the Hall of Memories we found mentions of dwarven activity to the north just half a year ago. Noone knew how, but the
Long-post of Covers apparently made itself known in the old ruins of Girderhold. We all put aside portions of our rations and stole some work equipment. We must go to Girderhold and meet these dwarves.
28th of Timber, 1286
Our expedition has ended.
Of our initial ten, only nine come home. Girderhold was a but death trap: The upper halls were vacant, but recently used. We went deeper into the mountains, but couldn't find anything. Not even a corpse. When we returned to the surface a group of goblins and a hideous troll were there to greet us ... My brother Wodka died in the ensuing skirmish. He was the most vocal and lively among us, and to a certain extend our leader. He fought bravely and took on the troll all by himself, although none of our family had ever been warriors. His distraction made it possible for us to push past the goblins and escape, but Koknak took a deep wound to his right leg. Sharrie and I carried him for a while until we were out of sight. We cleaned his wound on every stream of water we found, but we are no herbalists. He got double the usual booze ration, though.
We returned to the mountainhome at night and were promptly arrested by the goblin guards. All notes from the journey were taken from me and I now only have the old journal to work with. None of our co-conspirators has shown up in our quarters and every dwarf avoids eye contact with us ... I fear it's over.
1st of Moonstone, 1286
Starting today, we are under a curfew until further notice. The goblins confiscated everything we brought with us from the expedition and the hobgoblins debate on how severe our punishment should be. Koknak is in the hospital, his right leg being treated.
I don't know how, but Rom managed to sneak into the stocks and snuck off with the tablet Koknak engraved on our journey.
19th of Moonstone, 1286
The eight of us departed yesterday. Or rather, fled. We loaded all the goods we had collected prior to our expedition onto a wagon and ran as covert as we could. Two goblins died at our hands on our way out. Koknak is still injured, so he couldn't help with much and without proper healthcare he might suffer an infection, but we had no time.
9th of Opal, 1286
Koknak succumbed to his injuries two days ago. His leg did catch an infection and festered. We had no choice but to amputate it with the axe we brought, but none of us was schooled in medical affairs. We could stop the bleeding, but he had lost a lot of blood and the infect had weakened him too much. He passed away quietly and unconcious.
We made a stop yesterday and buried him as deep as we could dig in a single day. The tablet with the symbol of the
Long-post of Covers he chisled will be put up in the entrance hall as soon as we arrive.
27th of Obsidian, 1286
We have arrived where the map showed the old outpost to be. In the midst of a thick forest, of all things. But it's been at least a millenium since this settlement saw dwarven life. Sharrie claimed that she saw a Unicorn earlier this morning, and with those elves that are supposed to live just north of here I wouldn't be surprised if there really was such a thing. We'll have to adjust and fit in until we accomodated ourselves properly ... Somehow, I miss the mountainhome and the hills - It's just flat land and trees all over here.
Tomorrow, we'll look for an entrance to the outpost.
1st of Granite, 1287
The outpost is nothing but a ruin. Not that we could have entered it, if there's anything left underground. The entrance we found after half a day of searching was entirely collapsed: A huge pile of obsidian blocks. I guess even dwarven masonry has its limits when it's left unattended for nearly a thousand years.
This is quite a setback. I had hoped for the legendary dwarves of old to leave us artifacts, remnants, engravings and most importantly shelter, but Sharrie explained yesterday that no chiseld stone would keep form for that long without the healing touch of a mason. Our mood was slightly downed, but we'll manage. Much of the rubble has still block-like measurements and we wanted to eract a proud monument anyway.
The coming months will be loaden with good dwarven work.