Introducing Olin Oiledspiraled

22nd of Granite, 125.

I am Zuntir Sidepages of the newly founded dwarven outpost of Lancescour. My close friend and fellow musician-settler Ilral Amusewires started writing a log of our settlement. In addition to his work, I would like to provide some short descriptions of our citizens. I’m not at all a private person, and I do not mind sharing details about myself and others. I’ll try to respect other’s needs for privacy, but I can’t guarantee I’m very good at it.

Let’s begin with Olin Oiledspiraled, our expedition leader. He worships The Chances of Distraction, The Salves of Lulling’s god of games. Our group of seven musicians are rather outcasts of the Maroon Helms settlements to the north, which were near many of the settlements of The Salves of Lulling. Still, I find it interesting that our leader belongs to the religion of another culture rather than worshiping Babin, god of Death of Justice, of our own civilization. I’m not that strict in my worship, but Olin seems to be.

At 82, he is older than most of us, but fairy average in size. He skin is a dark brown and slightly wrinkled. His long pale-taupe hair grows gray; he keeps it tied in a pony tail. His mustache is very long and his very long double-braided beard hides a deeply recessed round chin. His narrow slate gray eyes appear to have almost no eyelashes.

As for clothing, he wears midnight blue spider silk trousers, naturally-brown cow leather dress. Over this he wears a midnight blue llama wool coat, further covered by a brown cave-bear leather cloak. Upon his head is a midnight blue pig-tail cap and a gray pig-tail hood. He wears a pair of brown turkey leather gloves covered by a pair of brown reindeer leather mittens. His gray pig-tail shoes are pulled over a pair of midnight blue llama wool socks. He carries a copper battle-axe that he uses to chop down trees.

Olin is very flimsy and seems to have a weak immune system. His patience also is not very strong, nor is his ability to focus or remember things. Some of us joke occasionally about his poor memory, but that’s because he seems to hold it against us if he can’t remember something any of us said. I get the feeling he doesn’t trust as that much, even if he seems to like us. One gets the sense he wishes he could do all of this himself. Still, he often speaks of value of friendship and seems to have great respect for artists, even if he lacks creativity. He also praises the value of hard-work and practice to develop skills and talents.

Certainly, he’s not above merrymaking, but preaches the importance of moderation and self-control. Unfortunately, he has no respect for skills in fighting, so hopefully we collectively have no need for that in the immediate future. Overall, he’s been a good leader, but a group of musicians aren’t necessarily cut out for founding an outpost, so we might not be the best judge of character here.

 - Zuntir Sidepages 

Lancescour 1: Embark!

15th of Granite, 125.

After months of travel, our small caravan of seven dwarf musicians have found a place to call home. We arrived on the coast of southern land having left our civilization The Maroon Helms far to the North. Heading south-east from the coast, we sneaked by a few Elvin forest retreats. After a several days of travel, we came dangerously close to another Elvin retreat Bellsflight and turned north. We ultimately stopped our wagon at the base of a mountain range, just east of a brook. After the getting wet in the rain and the threat of dealing with elves, we’re all a little annoyed. The mountain Spotted Towers rises above us along the eastern horizon. The forest surrounds, giving us cover as well as access to a wealth of lumber. We have dubbed our settlement Lancescour.

Lancescour Dwarf Fortress Screenshot
Single layer view of the seven dwarf musicians and their wagon just before establishing dwarf fortress Lancescour.

I am Ilral Amusewires. At 65 years of age, I’m the youngest of the group. I’ve spent much of my life as a musician and poet. I can sing a little, but I’m much better at writing poems and playing the drums. Our leader designated me woodworker. I like the work, but I hate learning. If I manage to get good at it though, I’ll try creating a masterwork.

I became close friends with all of my traveling companions, especially the 75-year-old fisherdwarf Zuntir Sidepages and the 86 year old fishcleaner Avuz Zinethsword. Avuz taught herself the basics of butchery, tanning, and leatherwork. They both worship Babin, the Maroon Helms deity of justice and death. As a small child, I was raised around Babin worship, so it shaped much of my thinking even if I don’t really actively worship these days.

The 86 year old Bomrek Mastercanyon plays woodwinds and his deep singing voice often boosts our performances. As a follower of Id, deity of mountains and caverns, he’s happy to be watched over by the Spotted Towers. He plans to craft great jewelry adorned with beautiful gemstones and silver.

The flimsy Morul Painteddie is a competent speaker and a particularly good singer. He recognizes the Tarag the Frothy, the termite deity of muck, but is not too concerned with worship. He’s friendly enough, but I’m not sure he really likes people. During our journey, the 75-year-old frequently sat by himself dreaming of settling down and starting a family.

Kib Atticgrove is a worshiper of the game loving deity Chances of Distraction. Like Bomrek, she too is in her 86th year. On our journey, she wrote and recited her own poetry which we all appreciated. She considers herself a musician and dancer, but I can’t agree. She keeps saying she’s going to create a masterwork, but there’s no sign she has any talent to do so. I think she should stick to poetry. There’s something definitely charming about her, and we all love her dearly.

Expedition leader Olin Oiledspiraled decided to become our woodcutter and there will be plenty of opportunity for this 82-year-old dwarf to practice in these woods. His plans to to craft a masterwork out of wood. I expect he’ll get bored before he starts. He caused us worry along the way, as the flimsy old man kept getting sick and was constantly forgetting things.

So here we are, seven musicians from The Maroon Helms trying our hand at settling a new community, Lancescour. This is our story.

- Ilral Amusewires