User:FJH/fjh frtrss/str olonbekorn

Olon Bekorn
The Gear of Spring

Prologue

Settled in: Limestone 150 in The Age of Heroes
Mountainhome: Ekirerush, "The Lucid handle"
Settled by: Sibrekbash, "Salveaxes"

• Solon Metuldeduk
• Kel Cattenïton
• Olin Mafolisan
• Momuz Sazirasol
• Lorbam Tashemtosid
• Dîshmub Nishkicoth
• èzum Abanïlon
  

Contents of Wagon:

Animals	Anvil	Containers	Drink	Food	Metal	Restraints	Seeds	Stone	Weapons	Other
2 Dog 2 Kitten	Yes	3 Bag 8 Barrel	20 Dwarven Rum 20 Dwarven Beer 40 Dwarven ???	12 Turtle 20 Plump Helmet 20 Deer Meat	4 Copper Bar	1 Cage 1 Rope	11 Plump Helmet 11 Slime Mold 11 Sweet Pod	?? Bituminous Coal 4 Magnetite 4 ?? Block	2 Copper Pick	6 Charcoal

Year 150

Strike the Earth!

My name is Solon Metuldeduk, I am a trade manager, and I am very cold.

Amethaathira is very isolated lands. I can not speak for the eastern half of the continent - we have only had limited contact with that side for years - but the western half is dominated by Dwarven-friendly civilization-divisive mountain ranges. Most civilizations of one population live near in each and in the same climes. We Dwarves have always lived far south of all else, on the cold plains, in the warm mountains, in a cul-de-sac formed of conjoining ranges. We are insulated from the worst of the civilizations, constricted by mountains to the north, south, and east; though there is a passage to further valleys above up, they do not allow easy movement to the rest of the continent. For that, we are protected to the east by many great tundras on which live the--friendly Vamarii. Though I can not say I truly like the beast races of our world, they are very helpful in maintaining our protection and trade with the outside world. There are said to be Frost Giants, but I have not heard of any trade. Beyond them live some Hobgolbins and violent Dyansauri but the true horror of this continent are our disgraceful cousins the Chaos Dwarves. They inhabit the core of the mountain range and corrupt the relations of all civilizations who inhabit it. There are Humans, various Elves, and Silver Xelics somewhere nearby, and finally the wretched Bugbears who have claimed monopoly on the richest forests of the far north-west. None of that has to do with me.

Trade, as I have mentioned, is a long and arduous journey over tundras east and then follows a journey up the length of the mountains to where our fortress had long settled, assaulted by Dyansaur cities, Goblin attacks, until finally reaching here, an outpost long since established beyond the isolated south - the lone mountainhome Ekirerush. We are the final haven trade caravans from the bulk of our population possess so far from home. The path is hard, despite help at the start, and tiring and is not always successful, such that we are as much of a disadvantage being outside of the circle of mountainhomes as an advantage as being nearby a great many trading partners. Traveling through the mountains themselves is treacherous from the neverending peaks and falls to the risk of Chaos Dwarven raids.

But that all changed. Scouts, lost on their tracking for the military, attempting to pinpoint the homes of our wicked cousins along the dangerous territories of the northern face of the mountain range, discovered it first. It was a remarkable find that wasn't even realized until their route was revisited - a sparse portion of the mountains where travel along flat land is just a few peaks and tight roads between. The valley on the other side, the well-named Blockaded Land, opens up right into the valley of our tundra mountainhomes! They were visited by the second troupe! Such a discovery is fantastic from a transportation point of view. It could cut off weeks or months from trade between the others and Ekirerush! Regardless of the potential danger, the excitement led to plans and the plans led to material collection much like one would only see from a Dwarf who was given by the deities themselves a frenzied vision of things to construct. A fortress must be made at this crossroads. Trade must be piped through this almost-passage.

That unfortunately is where I - where we - come in. Sibrekbash was hastily composed and dispatched with this supplies and vague plans to settled such a fortress in such a location. South we are sent with wagon and anvil in tow as the temperature drops. Supposedly this region is still considered "temperate" but it's still far too cold for me. I am only one who works on the local trade, accepting and managing the depot at Ekirerush; I will only feel comfortable, no less warm though, when the depot we are to build is built and I no longer move on anything more than my own two feet. Kel and Olin were recruits from the local military who were sent in to act as our miners, and they feel out of place with the picks. "You don't fight with picks - no matter how Dwarvenly it might look to the other races, it's a crime of both professions! Do we use them as swords? as hammers?" And I could not answer, for I did not know. At least their lot is better than Dîshmub our carpenter for while we have enough picks to go around there are no axes for him. To compensate he has brought wood and barrels and copper thus that he might not be stuck without for long once we arrive. We encountered a troll, but it passed us as if walking entranced. Maybe the temperature bother those hulking beasts as well.

The next valley is our destination. Olon Bekorn is our destination.

- Solon Metuldeduk, 1 Limestone 150

Update 1

We had a strange occurrence immediately upon our arrival. I went over the survey's team report. I had to! I'm the only person with any knowledge of farming. I need to know soil content and land lay and elevation. You can imagine my horror at an assignment like this. The temperature cold, the ground frost-covered, and the plants covered with snow. They're all terrible conditions for a profession like mine. Although the team found it difficult to confirm the existence of magma, you can imagine my excitement that the valley site had a brook nearby. With water we would be able to farm, even without a good topsoil - we have yellow sand.
The report failed to mention one very important detail.

Yeah, this complicates things ...

The brook is frozen. Without guaranteed magma, the only thing we could hope for is thaw in Spring or Summer.
I did my best to express my concern for the others but I don't think they adequately understood. Solon just ordered me to help move things closer to the foothills with the others and, really, that was all I could think to do too. The stockpile was organized miserably, but I tried to put the meats and Plump Helmets near each other. For some reason, one barrel was filled with decaying lizards parts - I thought it was the camel that was now chained near our stockpiles - and we near lost one barrel of beer in the movement. Olin stumbled and dropped it, but it didn't break open. For a moment, it looked like we might have to rely on insufficient crops and depend on food imports ...
... when the most bizarre thing happened. With a wave of heat that rolled over the hills and mountains, everything burst alive.

CLIMATE!

There was a noticable pause in everyone. The snow on the trees vanished, the ground became green (grass) and yellow (sand), and, perhaps most bizarrely, there was the loud crash of wet upon wet not unlike a thirsty Dwarven miner lost in his own genius. The ice brook, in a single instant, unfroze and started flowing northward! The animals scattered from the sound and went in every direction. I, for one, was amazed, happy, and worried, running my fingers through the thin soil and loose sand. We had been spared a horrible time growing things by nothing short of a miracle; but, if this miraculous land was so capricious, things could easily and just as quickly flash freeze right back.

Those of us who hadn't yet started moving again were snapped from our surprise by Dîshmub knocking the wagon apart, and Solon bitterly murmuring "It's still cold."

I was sent running around to grab all the animals who, unlike the camel, were not tethered in place and put them in one of our cages. Well, the cats, anyway. By the time I was done with that, four workshops had already been set up and I was about to start gathering from local flora. Instead, Momuz pulled me over to the metalsmith area and Lorbam thrust a copper pick into my hands. I--I didn't know how to complain.
Momuz: "We are't setting up farm plots yet. We need housing and stone."
We already have two miners; I don't know the first thing about mining!
I only hope our current food and drink lasts until Spring.
- èzum Abanïlon, Autumn of Year 150