Here's my best effort. If you think it's too long, please let me know, and I'll do what I can to shorten up further updates.
Prologue, 1st of Granite, Early Spring
"Hoy!" Someone yelled, breaking the otherwise silent ambience of the afternoon. Despite being in the very first days of Granite, the land was completely bare of snow and Spring was now in full bloom, with sprawling carpets of lush grass swaying in the breeze and tall, stately trees bustling with green leaves. It would have been a perfect vista to gaze upon had the current inhabitants not clear-cutted a wide swathe of the biggest trees already. "What do you want?" The voice belonged to a broad-shouldered Dwarf standing in the clearing with long brown hair tied into a ponytail and a full double-braided beard. Though he carried a few logs of wood his attention was firmly focused on another figure, steadily walking to him from some distance away. Convinced that he probably wouldn't just be looking for directions, the bearded Dwarf shifted his load and gently laid it down in a pile. He stood for a moment, eyes fixated on the newcomer as he stretched his aching back. If only we'd struck real coal, he thought, we wouldn't need all this damned wood. The stranger was coming into focus now; he looked every bit the traveler, replete with a leather cloak, sturdy-looking boots, a satchel of some sort hung across his shoulders and, most of all, he noticed a decent-sized sword scabbard hanging from a belt on his waist. It certainly didn't look like he would be one to mess around with.
The stranger finally caught up to him. "Are you Corai?" he said, causing the wood hauler to start for a moment. "How in Armok did you know my-- wait, who are you?" he said with a mix of confusion and anger. "Name's Xvareon," he replied. "I was told about the ones in charge of this place, including one 'brown-ponytailed bookkeeper'. I just guessed that was you." Corai said nothing, instead stepping slightly to the side and staring off past the traveler. Xvareon looked annoyed. "What's wrong?" Corai abruptly fell to his knees and let out a deep sigh of what could only be called relief. "Oh, thank Armok," he said, laughing. "its just one..." Xvareon blinked, looked behind him to see what was the matter, and saw nothing. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh," Corai said, coming back to his senses. "Migrants. You guys usually come in huge droves, all here for our gold statues and adamantine."
"Wait," Xvareon said. "there really are deposits of adamantine here?" Corai looked bemused. "Yeah? I thought that's what you were all coming here for... surely you didn't follow the rumors of mountains made of plump helmets, did you?" he snickered.
"Uh, no... and I'm not a migrant," Xvareon stated firmly. "I'm a royal representative from the Mountainhomes--"
"Oh, you're the Liaison!" Corai said, now with a bright, friendly smile on his face. "Sorry, sir. I just don't remember you guys being so... attired. Let's get back to my office, I have some fine vintage Dwarven ale and sheep brain biscuits we can nom on."
Xvareon sighed. "No, I'm not the Outpost Liaison either; I've been sent here to help oversee operations at the Fortress of Steelbeard and--"
"Oversee?" Corai interrupted yet again. His questioning look turned first into comprehension, then a painful grimace, then -- Xvareon swore he saw right -- a morbid, cold and calculating stare, followed by an ever-so-slight turn of the lips into a sly grin. The display was so unnerving that Xvareon nearly went for his sword.
"Ahhh," Corai said, regaining his composure. "You must be the new Baron. We figured they'd send you here eventually, your excellency. You have nothing to worry about; we've prepared a fine compound for you and your retinue, right next to the main Adamantine and Gold mining operation... and the caverns..."
"N-no," Xvareon stammered. What on Armok had come over this man? "I'm not the Baron either;" then, remembering, he abruptly opened the flap to his satchel and pulled out a thick and smooth papyrus scroll. "This is a letter of introduction from His Royal Majesty As Amostsherik himself. I've been sent here to be installed as the new Overseer -- or Governor if you like -- for this Fortress. No offense, but reports from you have been a little sketchy as to the successfulness of this expedition, and we've yet to see a single Adamantine craft from you."
Corai started, then sighed. "We..." he facepalmed. "that's because we're not using it for crafts... that would be a waste."
Xvareon nodded. He was probably right. Much better to use it to make the ungodly powerful edged weapons and armor that made the metal so famous for its users and infamous to its enemies. "So, what do you use it on, then?"
He was not expecting the response. "...War hammers."
Disbelief, anger and confusion wracked his mind. War hammers? everyone knew you couldn't break a glass marble with an adamantine war hammer! But not trusting himself to speak, he gritted his teeth and calmed himself. It was still salvageable.
"So... Overseer, huh?" Corai wisely changed the subject. "Well, you got here just in time... we've been having some serious problems with upper management lately. We've kept it down with keg stands and statues of giant bugs for now, but..." he shrugged.
"Your office, right?" Xvareon said, managing a small smile. "You can tell me all about it over some of that Dwarven ale and... local flavor."
Corai grinned, and together they walked back to the gate of the Fortress. Inwardly he knew someone back there was not going to be pleased.
Corai had forgotten the wood.