From the collected journals of Stodir Idenlokum, leader of the Mountainwatchful expedition:
25 Obsidian:
Damnation! The way is blocked!
We chose this mountain for this reason! This pass should lead up the mountain and into the crater. We were to build our fortress on the shores of that soothing warmth, the fiery orange lifeblood of the mountain itself.
And now the pass is encased in tons of thick ice! Glacial ice, hard as the rock of the mountain itself! We shall have to find another way.
28 Obsidian 1051:
The mountain is blanketed with stony ice everywhere we look. I fear there is nothing for us in this cursed wasteland. The men are restless, and I have made a decision: if we cannot find a suitable delving site in three days time, the expedition will be abandoned. We shall cut our beards, return home, and await the judgment of our Queen...
1 Granite 1051:
Salvation! The men wanted to cut their losses and leave, but I insisted on seeing this, our final day, through. Although I doubt it should be called a day. The winds howl, the snow and ice whip everywhere, and the ever-present clouds keep the wastes black as night. But just as we had lost all hope, the sun glimmered, just faintly, behind the peak of a nearby mountain and we saw the sheer cliff that our wagons now stand in front of:
Truly the Firstminers watch over us. I have named the site "Mountainwatched" in thanks to them. But enough talk. It is time for us to take up picks and strike the earth!
14 Granite, 1051:
Woe and damnation to this cold! Several days ago, Zuglar and I struck a low bend in some sort of subterranean river. The tunnel was flooded with its chill waters, throwing us back and nearly drowning us in that icy tomb. I would have surely lost my pick, had these fingers not frozen to the bone instantly.
As the flood recedes, it leaves behind a layer of thick, rich mud. I order our two growers to begin planting immediately. We must have food.
In addition, I order the river bridged and our lodgings delved beyond, for security. If we were ever in danger, I doubt help would arrive quickly.
Date unwritten, Slate, 1051:
The farm has been delved out and the floodgates are being installed as I write. I have some hope that we may actually survive this winter.
Enclosed is a map of our progress so far:
1st Hematite, 1051:
I have been remiss in updating this journal of late, but for good reason. Our farm is nearly complete, our workshops are moved into a dedicated space, and we have begun digging a series of sturdy vaults to hold our supplies. Farming progresses well, and I am confident we will have supplies for winter.
Now all that remains is to locate some metal.