Excerpts from the book of Erith, 22;24
20th moonstone, 1054
It is good to take comfort in small things, and focus on what joy our life permits us. It has been many months since I lost the use of my left arm, and i must bury myself constantly in work that takes twice as long now for me to complete, lest I find myself consumed by a foul melancholy. The lines between frustration and madness are hair thin in my people. I wonder, if I find myself sinking into the bleakness or the red rage, will I notice? Armok knows, and in him I must put my faith.
And so I focus on the small wonders, today is a good day, and there is much to be thankful for. Not the smallest of the blessings is the wonderful strawberry wine and dwarven ale which is piled in great oak and maple casks, and also the barrels and barrels of good dwarven plump helmet and sweet pods. Even the lowliest of dwarves here in Edem Rimtar now eats and drinks like a king, this has done a great deal to lessen the tensions that have so plagued us as of late.
An election was held (it was made apparent to the faithful that it would be held with or without us) and we have created for ourselves a tiny but functional bureaucracy, and a lively meeting of the firth is held every old moon. The day of the vote , every dwarf in the warren turned out. The mood was grim and many a hand rested on weapons and looked on the proceedings warily, eyes alert for signs of tampering. Not trusting any of our own, both factions agreed to have the counting of votes done by the trade liason, in hopes that the word of an impartial observer might lend some legitimacy to the results. After all the rune-inscribed copper tags had been tallied, the results pleased no one and angered many. Despite our being severely outdwarved at the ballot boxes we managed, strangely, to elect one of our own, as mayor.
Nish Amolin is indeed a believer and worshiper of Armok, but he is not well liked by either Urdim or myself, for the spirit of compromise runs deep within him, and he would rather let the heathens worship whatever god they choose, then convert them with lash and sword, as is only right. It seems that most of the members of the warren voted for themselves greedily, and it was only Nish who had the foresight to bribe and flatter enough dwarves to carry the day. Despite my initial misgivings, I find that Nish is receptive to my plans for the ordering of the fortress, and quite good at adjudicating the needs of many different interests. With his help, much work has been coordinated and completed. The wooden palisade and upper wall were completed, with a quartzite roof added in case of attack by fire and upon its peak, six statues carved of cinnibar sparkle deep burgundy in the setting sun. Some ramparts were carved out of the east facing wall overlooking the valley below, and the calls of the watchdwarves can be heard at all hours, day or night, much to the comfort of everyone. A great storeroom has been dug out and cleared in the stone below our original scrape, along with a new kitchen, and several new workshops, relocated to be closer to the stores. The clearing of the massive piles of rough stone and ore was a back breaking affair and everyone in the warren helped. The work started out gloomily as enemies and rivals labored along side eachother in silence, but by the end of the weeks work, everydwarf was singing their bawdy songs and laughing, perhaps aided by the wonderful strawberry wine fresh out of fermentation. Upon completion, a loud and boisterous feast was thrown, and so lavish were the servings of roasted bull, baked sweetpod and turtle stew, that even Urdim herself was coaxed out of her quarters to eat and sing with the rest of the dwarves.
The newly completed storeroom.
Teams of treefellers and wood haulers work constantly day in and day out clearing the slopes downhill of our warren of the many deciduous trees that grow thickly, and our storeroom bulges now with maple, oak, alder and ash, all trimmed and split to near perfection by zuglar.
A makeshift forge and kiln have been set up in a special chamber off the old peasants rooms. Some of the more seasoned wood is burned in a large clay furnace till the fire is raging, then the kiln is sealed off completely, and through some magic of the gods, when the fire dies down, the wood is transformed into highly prized charcoal, without which any smelting of the ores we find here becomes impossible. Hope is high that our delveing may yet uncover some magma, but untill such a time we are forced to use the wood of the hills for this sacred work. Tirist Ledkeshon, a skilled migrant metalsmith has begun smelting some quality silver and bronze bars, and crafting some decent arms, for the militia, and chains for much needed wells.
In the south wall of the storeroom a large tunnel has been breached in the blue microcline, it has been constructed in such a way that any beast or dwarf must pass single file over a narrow stone bridge protruding over a deep trench, much the same as the design of our gates. Behind this bottleneck we have constructed a ballista out of wood, with copper and silver arrow heads as big as a child, and placed the clever contraption behind good solid stone ramparts. This tunnel is not to lead above ground, but will lead to our deepest delving, and as such it needs to be well defended; everydwarf has heard tell of the old and fell creatures that lie waiting in the depths, we dare not leave ourselves undefended against such danger.
Storeroom, ballista and bridge visible lower left.
With only a handful of years till the start of our great undertaking, much is yet to done, but much has been accomplished, and I am optimistic about the progress we have made so far, healing old wounds through common labor. I have my final plans drafted, and next firth I shall present them for consideration, I am sure there will be little opposition to the construction, as the beauty and scale of Urdims vision is impossible to deny.
Delve 