User talk:Kalon

Meshring

1st Granite, 187. Strike the earth! The miners be praised, we've arrived. The queen, Likot Roofact, insisted that our party set out ahead of the tide, for the glory of Nil Egath "The Hammer of Jungles", and we barely made it. Although her rule has been but 40 scant years, we will do her bidding.

The sight of our new home is before us, and our expedition leader has called a halt to the wagon. We have named this spot Zithisathel, "Meshring", and we will devote our lives so that it's name enters our legends forever. Across all of The Domain of Cyclones, we shall settle The Special Land and bring civilisation to The Branded Hills around us.

They claim we were specially selected - seven dwarves, a few supplies, some pack animals and a stretch of virgin earth ahead of us.

I, Eruch Uvarral and Mistem Rutodral are our miners - some say we are kindred, some say we are obsessed, but no dwarf can deny that each of us carries the glint in our eyes of hunger for the mineral riches this land will yield to us. Ingish Ustuthimesh and Vucar Sodelthosbut, skilled with their axes, will fell any trees we may need - for our forges, should we not be blessed with coal, or at the least for our bedding. We have managed to bring some small store of wood, but this will not last. Our food will come from Ducim Zasildom, our resident food lover. Hunting it, skinning it, then cooking it, she also fills the position of our esteemed brewer. Essential! Zon Mosusreg will form the basis of our metal industry, which will hopefully be in place before the winter, gods be praised. He will process metal or stone with the same efficiency. And finally, Melbil Bomrekotil, our doctor. She impressed us all with her displays of marksmanship hunting for food on the journey, wagering shots with Ducim and Zon, although none drew too far ahead.

The temperate shrubland we have stopped in is flat - a blessing and a curse - and the climate cool. Upon our arrival at the founding site, we can see four middling pools, frozen over following the harsh winter, and a few small puddles. The brook, Webspoons, is at the far north easterly extent of our range. It, too, is frozen, however we hope to see it thaw with the coming warmer months. Birch, ash, chestnut and the odd willow scatter the landscape, and the grass gives way to the odd exposed patch of black sand or dolomite boulder. Ducim, always looking for comfort food, laments that only two hives of bees can be seen. As yet we have not seen another living thing in the area, making our three hunters wary of the quiet - too quiet.

1st Granite, 187, second entry. I have ordered us underground immediately. The black sand soil immediately below our feet will crumble before Mistem and myself, while the others chop some trees to supplement our stock of wood. Given the weather, I will leave the wagon assembled, whole, as a beacon for incoming caravans, should they arrive. A short tunnel, a curve to the left, and a hollow for the future trade depot. A small space will be cleaved for a general stockpile, but even in the darkness of the soil, it is too close to the surface for my liking. We will dig.

3rd Granite, 187. The first chambers have been dug in the black sand, and the first staircase. All water remains frozen, although a groundhog has been sighted by the hunters. Unfortunately, we are too busy hauling the wagon supplies to the chamber behind our future trade depot. Below the black sand lies more sand - blood red and soft, we shall set up temporary rooms here. Mistem dug a staircase down through this shifting floor, only to rush back with important news - we have struck dolomite - which will prove useful for more permanent buildings, but importantly, embedded within the rock was limonite! Iron will be ours - and with luck, steel.

8th Granite, 187. A creaking groan, unearthly loud, caused us a moment of fear and pause - the ice has cracked and thawed. Busy in our endeavours, and with our animals in pastures well clear of the ice, no drownings occurred. With the water flowing, we shall endavour to set up a well at some point, as time without water may put the prosperity of Meshring at risk. In our endavours, we may become wounded, and the treatement of such wounds when there is only ice would be a terrible blow.

9th Granite, 187. Progress on the main manufacturing chamber progresses swiftly in the soft sand. "Bedrooms", barely worthy of the name, are dug. And our hunters have claimed their first kill - the groundhog lies punctured by 8 silver bolts. A turkey hen has taken three bolts, and will perish soon. Unfortunately, we lack the facilities to skin or process the animals, and we scramble to build the butcher's shop and kitchen to handle our bounty. Should we get them constructed in time, a leatherworks would also be a welcome sight to provide us with the waterskins and backpacks that our military will need. Still reflecting on the luck of finding limonite so close, we shall not want for crossbow bolts.