Introducing Morul Painteddie

15th of Malachite, 125.

This is Zuntir Sidepages again to provide you with an introduction to one of the characters around Lancescour. I am one of the seven dwarves from The Maroon Helms in the north to establish this remote outpost in the south. Seven more dwarves arrived a couple weeks ago; as yet they remain strangers to me. Miner Morul Painteddie, is not a stranger. He and I became friends during the long journey to the Tower of Escorts mountain region. Morul is not an easy person to get to know. You can tell he loves his friends, but he really likes to be alone.

His birthday is 15th of Slate in the year 50, making him 75 years old. He has a great musical sense, is a competent musician, and sings with a very deep voice. His chosen instruments are of the wind variety, but he can adequately keep up with keyboard and string instruments as well. He’s an adequate poet and a competent speaker. As the past few months have demanded it of him, he’s become a competent mason and miner; He assisted Kib in digging out our underground home. He’s taken much of the stone that this work provided to build many stone tables, chairs, mugs, etc. You won’t hear him brag about it though; it seems to just be something he does without pride.

While not particularly religious, he is a member of The Faith of Blisters. This Maroon Helms group was founded about 60 years ago to worship Tarag the Frothy. Their termite deity represents the muck, and as such, members of the Faith of Blisters have an unusual fascination with decay, mud, manure, and filth. Pass by a pasture full of livestock and devotees of Tarag may comment, “Blessed is the Muck.” Morul, who isn’t particularly interested in what others think of him, is no exception. Still, I don’t think he actually likes muck; he does it out of obligation.

Like the rest of us, he has dark brown skin and pale taupe hair. His head is somewhat broad, cradled by a very round chin. He keeps his very long hair and sideburns neatly combed, with the two sideburns flowing down the sides of his big head. His long, neatly combed mustache sits atop a very long beard that he tames with double braids. His protruding, slightly wide-set eyes are slate gray, framing a short nose. His ears, too, are short, mostly hidden by his hair. Though average in size, he does seem to be very flimsy.

Morul does his work and does it well. He has great respect for talented artisans and their works; their masterworks receive his celebration. Unlike most of us, he actually values martial prowess. Sometimes I worry that our collective lack of interest in fighting will lead to our downfall. We may become an easy target someday. It’s good to have somebody who thinks it is important.

Leisure time, especially merrymaking and partying, is important to Morul. But when the work and partying are done, he likes to be alone. He values family greatly and dreams of raising a family himself someday. Thankfully, he’s not prone to envy or even flights of fancy. He has a good intellect and just needs a little time to think.

He wears midnight-blue pig-tail trousers under a midnight-blue cave-spider silk dress. Over these, he wears a gray pig-tail robe and a brown cougar leather cloak with a gray alpaca wool hood. On his head, he usually dons a midnight-blue pig-tail cap. He pulls gray sheep wool mittens over his gray llama wool gloves. For shoes, he wears great-horned-owl leather shoes in their natural brown over gray alpaca wool socks. Due to his work, he usually carries his copper pick in his right hand.

And finally, he likes guppies, quinoa beer, and sunshine and hates large roaches. He’s been a great asset to our team. One look in the meeting room full of tables is proof enough.

Lancescour 5: Seven Migrants Arrive

1st of Malachite, 125.

My name is Ilral Amusewires of the dwarven outpost Lancescour west of Spotted Towers. About four months ago, I arrived as part of a group of seven outcast musicians from The Maroon Helms. We’ve been digging our new home into the side of the base of a mountain. Only yesterday, a group of seven dwarves traveled in from the south-east and have been spending time in our small unfurnished meeting room, coarsely carved into the stone.

I’ve been making barrels for storing food and drink. The chestnut-colored cat with an ivory head and gold ears followed me around curiously as I worked. I feel more and more like a carpenter every day. Morul made stone tables for our meeting room. The light-brown cat with a chestnut colored head followed Kib around while she dug out more rooms. Kib mostly ignored the cat. Zuntir has been fishing, while Bomrek and Avuz continue to haul wood and stone to our workshop storage rooms. It must be very tiring, as I once caught Bomrek sleeping on the floor in the storage room.

We’ve all been sleeping on the hard stone floor. It’s terribly uncomfortable, but better than being unprotected in the wet grass getting rained on. Olin continues to walk around uneasy about not being able to pray to The Chances of Distraction, and I think it disrupts his sleep. He keeps asking when we’ll set up an area for worship. I feel bad for him, but he’s the only one worried about it as of yet. The rest of us would like to have some cups to drink out of, chairs to sit on, and beds to sleep on.

Bomrek built two craftsdwarf workshops, a mechanic’s workshop, and a jeweler’s workshop. That industrious dwarf has been a great help in getting us to where we want to be. Soon we’ll have those cups. And beds too. We continue to busily establish our home at Lancescour as something special. We may all be very new to this, but we’re making good progress.

And there, on the horizon to the southeast, we saw seven migrant dwarves headed our way. I They all seemed to be fairly normal-sized dwarves, with the exception of one tall and very fat dwarf with clean-shaven hair and a steel battle-axe in her hand. Another woman with a pick walked towards us with a duckling waddling hurriedly behind her. An old woman and a middle-aged man walked arm in arm, apparently lovers. They appeared to have brought a gosling with them.

A man with very long braided hair and a mustache led the group. And following behind were a middle-aged woman with a ponytail and a young teenager, who repeatedly tripped over her extremely long hair. They all wore similar clothes to our own: mostly leather and wool, with some dyed midnight-blue. And very last, a tiny peachick followed like a lost puppy.

It looks like we’ll need more beds than we’d originally thought.

 - Ilral Amusewires

Introducing Kib Atticgrove

15th of Hematite, 125.

Hello, This is Zuntir Sidepages with another introduction to a citizen of Lancescour. Today we’ll meet Kib Atticgrove. She is one of the most likable dwarves I have ever met. Her contributions to our new home have been tremendous, as she has completed the vast majority of the mining work. She has provided us with rooms in the mountain side and below. Thanks to her, we have a large storage room, a meeting room, a set of rooms for workshops and material storage for the workshops, stairs leading up and down, and a future trading post. Also, thanks to her, we have a wealth of stone and gems from which to build furniture and other crafts.

Kib Atticgrove was born on the 9th of Sandstone in 39, making her almost 86 years old. She is very agile for somebody half her age and incredibly smart with a good memory. As a member of our traveling musicians, it became apparent that she actually has little natural inclination toward music. She is simply an adequate singer and seems OK with wind instruments; even then, I may be being a little kind. It’s hard not to be; everybody loves her.

Her poetry displays a wonderful talent, and she performs it competently. Her real skill didn’t show itself until we’d arrived, and we all learned what a talented miner she is. Kib really seems to have love and respect for everybody and the work they do. Not only that, but she loves a good party and just generally enjoys merrymaking. As pleasant as her personality can be, it can be a bit overbearing at times. She draws the line at trade and commerce, which she finds disgusting. She also thinks sacrifice is wasteful and foolish. Once she has formed her opinion on something, then it is set in stone.

Kib’s face brings joy wherever she goes.  Her round chin forms the base of her bald head. She keeps her hair clean-shaven. Most likely she had pale taupe hair like the rest of us, as her skin is the same dark brown. Her slate gray eyes are bulging, making her short eyelashes all but invisible. Her ears are very short, peaking out like berries from the side of her head. In the center of her wrinkly face is a short, slightly upturned nose.

Her clothing resembles the rest of Lancescour, though with more of the distinctive midnight blue from dimple dye. She wears a giant-cave-spider silk dress, covered by a pig-tail robe and a giant-cave-spider silk cloak with a hood and a sheep wool cap. These are all midnight-blue. Her pig-tail trousers and gloves are natural gray. Over these, however, she wears midnight-blue giant-cave-spider silk mittens. Upon her feet are midnight-blue giant-cave-spider silk shoes, under which she wears midnight-blue pig-tail socks. She’s usually seen carrying her copper pick, ready to go mining.

Like most of us from The Maroon Helms, she loves the words of the poetic riddle, The Barricaded Fortress. She also enjoys the Silken Luxuries, a melancholy march that we’d frequently hear at marches up north. During our journey, she also spoke a few times about the Intricacy of Flowers, a sacred group dance accompanied by the soft music of the devotional Sparkle of Lace form. She also has a thing for Amethyst Men, which as far as I know, she made up. If they even exist, I doubt she’s ever seen one. Still, you can’t deny a single 86-year-old woman her fantasies.

Lancescour 4: Meeting Room and Workshops

1st of Hematite, 125.

I am Ilral Amusewires, one of the seven musician dwarfs to found the outpost of Lancescour. led Our expedition to a forested area at the western base of the Tower of Escorts mountains was led by Olin Oiledspiraled. Kib Atticgrove and Morul Painteddie carved out the beginnings of our underground fortress. Zuntir Sidepages, Avuz Zenithsword, and Bomrek Mastercanyon gathered food, including fish, cranberries, potatoes, yams, and other vegetables. Great stacks of lumber line the edge of the mountain, cut down by Olin and me.

I demolished the wagon with my copper battle axe, adding the reusable ginkgo wood to our wood piles. Zuntir and I then gathered the yams, potatoes, cranberries, and prickle-berries from the nearby land to store in the upper level storage room. Bomrek joined us and explained some of the properties of different herbs and vegetables. We discovered Olin and Avuz asleep among the meadow grass, and we all had a chuckle. Those lovers spend a lot of time together; it’s good to see. It is a shame we all have to sleep on the grass,though; snoring in the rain is not a good time.

Morul dug out rooms on the lower floor for workshops and storage for materials. He also created a room on the same floor as a general meeting room. Even without furniture, it is a welcome change from leaning against the wagon in the rain. Zuntir and I were the first to spend time there. She talked at length about the herbalism Bomrek had told us about. She had a great time, but I found it boring. Thankfully, the two stray dogs joined us, breaking the monotony.

Stray horses and dogs in the meeting room; Kib and Morul dig out the workshops.

Once Morul, with some help from Kib, completed the workshop rooms, he built workshops for carpenters and masons with dark green gabbro stone. Avuz and Olin hauled wood and stone to the new workshop storage areas. I immediately set to making several wooden chairs, and Morul started making rock tables. We will soon have some places to sit in our new meeting room.

Our leader, Olin, has been walking around nervously rubbing his hands together. “It’s been so long,” he said. “Since I have been able to pray to The Chances of Distraction.” He told us a little about the deity of games. He then proceeded to get drunk. “You know, we’re the Crowded Tomb, here. The seven us. Seven musicians without any real future, cast out of our former home among The Maroon Helms. The Crowded Tomb, ugh, and without a single cup to drink this ale.”

Kib continued mining out a tunnel, finding kimberlite, orthoclase, and clear zircon. We’ll have a variety to choose from when making furniture, crafts, and jewelry. She said she’s hoping to create some individual bedrooms for us soon. With my novice carpentry skills, I plan on building beds for everybody as well. Olin tells me with I will get better with practice. Why can’t we just be good at skills immediately?

Introducing Bomrek Mastercanyon

15th of Felsite, 125.

Welcome back. I am Zuntir Sidepages, one of the seven founding dwarves of Lancescour. Today I’d like to introduce our jeweler-herbalist, Bomrek Mastercanyon. Last month, he turned 86 years of age. He traveled with us from the northern Still Spikes mountain region to the Tower of Escorts mountain region in the South. Though not that strong of a friend, he was always very friendly during the trip. However, he always went off by himself and shook his head while we were merrymaking.

In conversation with Bomrek, you’ll notice first his very deep voice. Then you note that he is very modest. He doesn’t talk much about himself, but has a great respect for the work of others. He admires talented artists and dreams of creating a great work of art himself someday.

Jewelry currently captures his interest, and he has a desire to work with silver and tiger iron to create something beautiful. I wouldn’t be surprised if he drew inspiration from the mountains he so loves. Which is probably why he worships Id, the Maroon Helms deity of mountains and caverns. Otherwise, the religion seems to hold little interest for him. His apparent lack of ambition will probably get in the way.

Settlement work has kept all of us busy. He has not had the chance to work with jewelry at all yet, beyond carrying gemstones out of the way while Kib dug our rooms and hallways into the mountain side. He’s been helpful to her during her work, though not actively participating himself. During the months at Lancescour, Bomrek has been more involved in gathering and examining plants, leading to a new interest in herbalism. Truth be told, he lacks intellect, so it may be a struggle.

He keeps his head shaved clean with a medium-length pale-taupe beard and mustache. His skin is the same dark brown as the rest of us, and wrinkled to show his age. The mustache stays neatly combed and the beard in double-braids. They both show flecks of gray that match his slightly wide-set slate gray eyes. His beard covers a round chin, and above his mustache pokes an upturned nose. His ears are short.

Bomrek wears a natural brown dingo leather dress with giant-cave-swallow leather trousers. Over this he wears a white cave-spider silk robe covered by a midnight blue llama wool cloak, with the robe’s hood pulled over a white cave-spider silk cap. Upon his feet, brown sheep leather shoes sit over gray alpaca wool socks. He wears brown pond-grabber leather gloves under midnight-blue sheep wool mittens.

Basically, he just wants everybody to get along and for things to stay nice and quiet. He values leisure time, freedom, and the law. I believe he looks forward to Lancescour being a quiet fortress where he can sit back, drink some date wine, and sing The Barricade Fortress in The Sparkle of Lace musical form.