The scholars call this world Ruspstrasp, "The Eternal Planet". Goden Quicknessbridge came from the mists of history and founded our great civilization, starting the dwarven calendar at year 1. After living for centuries she died in the year 105, leaving the throne to her child Tekkud Releasedarmor. However, in 144 the line of Goden was overthrown by the Great Traitor, Kikrost Ramparttwisted. So began a time of intrigue and assassination, until Tekkud Groupaddle, the Final King, died in 148, one year after taking the throne. Since then we have been known as Eshimlòr, "The Free Tool", working under the domination of no dwarf, elf, human, goblin or demon.
In the bicentennial year 200, the land was filled with celebration. 50 years after the true founding of The Free Tool, the Mountainhomes felt strong enough to fund colonial expeditions to claim new lands and build new fortresses. The famous miner and mason Melbil Udildetes (Melbil Lanternrams) stepped forward, volunteering to traverse the Basic Continent and settle in the Tattooed Jungle. Now, in 201, we have finally reached the site of our new home. Since we have no true scholars amongst our company, I, Amost Ïtebakath (Amost Postwinters), have decided to keep my own modest record of the events at the outpost of Zonardes--Helmauthors.
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"You know," Tun Whisperglazed murmured, "I think if we ask for a whole bunch of different kinds of meat we can scam the quartermaster out of some barrels."
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"It's not much of a mountain," Melbil sniffed. "Still, the sand will be easy to dig through, and there's probably good stone underneath."
"This is a nice little hollow for an entryway," Kel Lovelynets said. Her callused hand was perched prettily on her stout hip as she surveyed the scene. "Easily defensible."
"Lots of trees," Obok Cudgelscribed said, lounging against the wagon. "I don't think I've even seen some of these varieties before. That should be fun."
"The seers tell me there's magma and flux stone somewhere in the ground." A grin tugged at Melbil's face. "Finally we can create a true dwarven civilization, away from those hippie Free Tool socialists! The seven of us will be the core of a new world!"
Asob Bellwades raised his eyebrows and glance at Zuntîr Confusedlashes. She blushed and shrugged.
"Well, then!" Melbil hoisted her pick, eyes gleaming. "Strike the earth!"
"Yes, mistress," Amost Postwinters said.
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"Smoky quartz," Tun said, eyeing the dune face. "Never seen them in sand before."
"A good omen!" Melbil proclaimed. "Now, the trade depot should be here, and we'll dig out some rooms, downward to get to some real stone..."
"Hematite already!" Melbil chortled. "We'll have steel soon! Even without magma, we've got trees to feed the furnaces for years!"
"We don't need an entire stair made of hematite," Melbil said, pointing down into the hole. "Mine that out, then Amost can make us a stair out of something cheaper."
"Yes, mistress," Amost said.
"Do you really like sweet pods that much?" Tun asked.
"I guess," Amost said, steadily chipping at a block of stone.
Tun raised his eyebrows and glanced at Melbil. "Something odd about that girl," he murmured.
"How lucky you all are to be graced by my skill," Melbil laughed.
"I'll think of you every time I eat at this table," Obok said, carefully picking up the stone furniture and waddling off.
"What a grand start to our fortress!"
"Any idea what we should do with this cave, Melbil?" Tun asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"Hmmm." Melbil's eyes gleamed. "Polished up, those floors will be exquisite. We'll have them lead to our living quarters. The Hematite Halls!"
"Sometimes I worry about him," Obok muttered to Kel on his way through the plump helmet field.
"My goodness, how time flies!" Melbil clapped her hands. "Now, everyone get those rock crafts into the trade depot!"
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Notes on trade goods received, by Amost
-A cave spider silk rope, for building a well.
-Barrels.
-Wine and rum.
-A pick and an axe, for another miner and woodcutter (if necessary).
-A bag (for gathering sand if nothing else).
-Rock nuts and dimple cup spawn.
-Meat.
-Plump helmets.
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"
Where did the little bastard go!" Melbil screeched.
Tun and Obok exchanged a glance. "He, uh, ran away," Obok replied.
There were several seconds of silence. Then the smile returned to Melbil's face. "Well, good riddance!"
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"The traders said you had a hall lined with statues and rock crafts and barrels of gems!" the girl said, eyes wide.
"We...have a
few statues," Amost said slowly.
"Oh, I'm Alåth Paddleorbs!" She smiled. "What's your name?"
"Amost Postwinters," Amost replied automatically. "I'm a mason. What do you do?"
"...um..."
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"Marble, finally," Tun said, nodding and slinging his pick over his shoulder for a moment.
"Excellent," Melbil purred.
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"Oh hai," the creature stammered. Then it fled, the alunite door making a hollow boom as it closed.
"What was
that all about?" Kel Lovelynets asked of no one in particular.
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