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[Sylverone]

Here you go, as promised (although a day later than I'd hoped)!

-=-=-=-=-

CH. 4, striking hope
Finally, truly good news greeted the ears of the dwarves as Tobul described the underground river he had
found. But it was already late fall, so perhaps farming would have to wait... and what was that peculiar
color in the stones across the river? Tobul recognized some copper; the shaft he had just dug was
positively lined with blue-green malachite, but there was something else... the light shining down through
a crack in the mountain above reflected temporarily against the wall in question and there was no doubt in
the experienced miner's mind. Tobul was overjoyed; raw galena ore! He was convinced now that that was where
their future lay. He had struck more than water; he had struck hope. But first... would they be able to make
it through winter?
 

CH. 5, of highs and lows and Dwarven honor
In preparation for winter, the first and most important thing to do was take inventory of the food stocks;
32 measures of meat (18 of which they had recieved from the traders), plus 2 of turtle and 4 plump helmets
left over from the initial supply. So it seemed that they didn't need to worry about being fed in the cold
months to follow; news that greatly lightened the spirits of the dwarves, making them temporarily forget that
they had no ale. There was one dwarf who was not so joyful, however. Erib (the injured carpenter) was not
coping well with being stuck in bed. He was a worker, and being active was how he usually dealt with
hardship. He couldn't even enjoy his sleep, as shooting pains in his leg would interrupt any form of
unconscious state he managed to achieve.
 

Meanwhile, as the other dwarves rested in preparation for the cold season to come, Mistêm was restless as
well. The carpenter's situation weighed on his conscience, as he felt that somehow Erib's injury was
partially due to his failure to watch his comrade's back. So while the others were still asleep, he got a
drink from the well, grabbed some tools, and made his way toward Kol Vabôkrazot's tomb, as was his recent
habit.

Since a few days prior he had tasked himself with smoothening the walls of the tomb, allowing him time to
think by himself as well as pay his respects to the metalsmith; a task which in the dwarven world was
carried out by action, not words. Blood by sweat, sweat by blood; that was how real respect was given, and
how the dead were repaid. In time the room, fully smoothed, would be etched with engravings, as was customary
in dwarven tombs. Then it would be sealed off permanently for the duration of the fortress' life.
 
One bed empty...
 
Mistêm sneaks out to work since he can't sleep.

-=-=-=-=-

I've been following the actual events very closely. I think it's pretty neat how Mistêm has brought himself forward as a sort of main character; he's just ended up in the middle of the action. I've sort of "adopted" him as my personal dwarf; the one that stands above the rest.

The next chapters will cover the dawning and survival (or not) of Winter. Since I'm writing by simply recording each event as it happens and while I play, I'm just as much in the dark as the readers as to what might happen next. I'm actually feeling rather confident about winter, but I'm not going to drop my guard; any experienced dwarf knows that food doesn't ensure good times when there is an unhappy dwarf in the fortress.

I will not begin the double-detailing of Kol's tomb until spring; the artworks upon its walls will record Pickseals' first year (if engraver be willing).