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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Necrolancer96 on 2024-11-01 18:15:23+00:00.

Chapter CCXXV

Outskirts of Somewhere.

Forgrim and his lot trudged down the tracks, but as they trudged they felt a small measure of relief as they marched to what was to be their home, away from their former kin and home. The air was cool, and the wilderness was beautiful. Even when he and the others had started to march up the hill that cursed day, they had marveled at the untamed wilderness of the land around them. At the town that held no walls nor towers. That their guards were barely a handful of souls, not counting the goblins. Goblins have no souls, Forgrim thought as a portion of him that remained dwarfy simmered at the thought of the smaller greenskins.

They had initially thought the humans of this world mad for not building some form of protection or even a bare palisade! Especially as they encountered that creature that cursed day. If such a horror lurked so close to their home there would be leagues of stone between it and their kin.

Yet here they were now, Forgrim thought as they walked along the tracks. Banished. Their only source of company for the foreseeable future was their own, Odeas the gnome, and whatever dealings that Haunter has with the Clan Ulrin. But Forgrim couldn't help but note that the further they got from the mountains, the stone that once was central to their lives, and kin. They began to feel a measure of peace and calm. Perhaps it was the thrill of adventure taking hold. Though Forgrim doubt it. After their last expedition just to say hi to their neighbor ended led to their current misfortunes, they wanted nothing of the sort. Perhaps it was the relief of being away from their kin. No longer being forced to keep a stiff upper lip about their curse and do their best to not let it effect them too heavily. Which failed. Miserably.

Forgrim wasn't sure what it was, just that he and the others had a slight skip in their steps as they marched. The axe of doom hanging above their heads seeming to lift, even if it was likely to be temporary, Forgrim thought as they went.

It was fairly quiet as they marched. A scant few bird calls rang out across the valley this far from civilization. Most leaving to warmer climes, but a few hardy birds remained to weather the snow he could see falling in the horizon. As hardy as dwarves are, none of them were looking forwards to sleeping in the snow.

About the only one of their lot that wasn't at least in a relaxed mood was their gnomish busybody, Odeas. The bulbous gnat flinched and yelped at every little noise and movement. Even some small bird smaller than he was made the gnome damn near tumble over the tracks and down the incline into the river!

At this rate, the gnome will die of his own accord over whatever fate or the elements have in store for them, Forgrim thought with a grumble as he grabbed the large pack that clanked and clattered as the gnome moved and twitched and prevented him from once again falling down the incline.

As it got darker and darker, Forgrim was contemplating whether to make camp or not for the gnome. As cold as it was they could march on a couple more nights before needing rest. Perks of dwarvan fortitude. But the gnome wouldn't last a light march through the night. At this rate he might not last the waning daylight either, Forgrim thought as he grabbed hold of the pack once again and prevented the gnome from falling towards the river. Again.

They breathed a sigh of relief when they spotted what was more than likely their destination. Confirmed when Odeas stated as much after consulting the coordinates given to them. They put a little hurry in their step at finally reaching what was to be their home. It wasn't a half bad place truth be told, Forgrim thought. Despite the river shrinking to barely more than two dwarves across, it was still a hassle to get the gnome over. It was eventually decided upon that tossing him over the gap was the better, and more cathartic, of the options they had available.

Odeas screamed a high-pitched and nasally scream before landing in a pile as his pack made an awful racket. Yet most of what was held remained within as the gnome tried to free himself from the heavy and burdensome pack while the dwarves made short work of the gap with a sprinted jump.

Forgrim surveyed the area. Plenty of trees for shelter and defense, and access to fresh water. Though he questioned that last one as he turned an eye towards the river. Its black murkiness off putting. There was something foul about the water, he decided and the others agreed. They would need to cleanse it by boiling to make sure it was drinkable. Though the idea of drinking the water, even if it was purified, didn't make him feel any better. But this was their easiest, and best, source of water around. It was either this or dig and hope to hit a separate water chamber. But he also doubt that would happen either with the river so close. He just hoped the water was just off looking but still drinkable, it was either that or their deaths would arrive sooner than they'd hope for.

A couple of their number wandered not far from the clearing and quickly discovered a plethora of game trails nearby! So food, wood, and water. Maybe. He turned his gaze towards the mountain that loomed just a stones toss away from them to their east. No proper dwarf would even consider a proper settlement without a source of stone.

But for once, he was glad he wasn't feeling particularly dwarfy. He nor the others made a move to gather stone. They would still need to dig for foundations, irrigation, and waste removal. But stone was an item on their list that they were content to leave on the bottom of it for the time being.

As he and the others got to work setting up the outpost, or the rough outline of one, Odeas grabbed a small trawl from somewhere in his pack of things and dug a small hole barely big enough for a rabbit. He then pulled out a tarp from within the depths of the pack and with a nearby stick, made himself a small shelter. He unfastened the pack from himself, the series of leather straps, buckles, rope, twine, and anything else the gnomes used to hold the damn things, were undid and the pack fell with a heavy thud. The gnome sighed contentedly before shoving the pack closer to the small hole and thrust a hand into the pack and produced a book that Forgrim could barely make out in the fading light.

Odeas then hopped into the hole and began to read. Forgrim shook his head, and the gnomes and halflings wonder why many think them the same people, he thought as the gnome seemed to have little issue reading in the dim light. Forgrim scoffed. Damn gnomes had the eyesight of a blind mole and could barely see their own hand past their elbow, yet they had better night vision than dwarves!

"Not even goin' ta help us. Lazy wretch." One of the dwarves mumbled at the gnome's lack of effort in actually setting up the outpost.

The others grumbled as they worked, Forgrim didn't hold it against either them or the gnome. They weren't the most physical of races and shouldn't be expected to contribute to manual labor and provide adequate results, and dwarves just loved to grumble. Gave them something to do to pass the time as they worked.

Compared to humans though, they made short work making the basic foundation of their new home. Some simple latrines nearby, a few snares and simple rods for game and fish, and the start of a simple cabin for the eight of them. The dwarves voiced that Odeas seemed content with his hole and could wait a day or two for his own built shelter.

If the gnome heard them he didn't voice it. Either that was because he was a Dwarvish Gnome, a gnome raised around dwarves and assimilated some of their culture along with their script, and considered them 'exiles' like the rest of the clan did. Though he doubt that since it was his job to communicate between them and the clan in regards to trade.

Forgrim figured it had more to do with either the gnome not paying attention, which was impossible for a gnome to do, or the gnome simply didn't care. Forgrim would bet on the latter though as he would hear a rummaging from the pack now and then and see the gnome withdraw something from it along with the occasional sound of digging. Then he'd hear the turning of pages. Then rummaging. Then digging.

Forgrim rolled his eyes at the quirky habits of the gnome, well the gnomes as a whole. So he and the others continued their work. Setting a easy challenge to boost morale by getting it set up within the night. By the position of this world's moon, they'll easily meet their goal!

Trout's Landing.

The Dark Thing had accepted their offering, the murloc thought as it starred glassy eyes at The Dark Thing as it followed after the scaled things after devouring their offering. He must be following after them to exact punishment or tribute, the murloc thought. After all, the scaled things had given up the jetty to them without so much as a fight.

A few had wandered onto the wooden dock, and despite their clumsiness and flailing none had been ensnared in their traps! They had thought perhaps the fat and lazy larger lizards would be caught, but even they seemed to side-step or even outright ignore their cleverly placed traps!

No matter, the murloc thought as it turned its glassy eyes on the rest of the tribe. Line was thrown across the wood and over the sides and into the water. Already they were catching yet more fish to feed themselves ...

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