Day 1
Having spent months searching the Satiny Continent far and wide for a satisfactory spot, our small wagon sets off today along its final itinerary. West, against the wind, we are towed toward a place where mountains peer down through deep woodland to spy those glittering streams filtered black with obsidian. We are told there shall be peat enough to keep us fed through use of farms, and warned that goblin settlements have been spotted to the South. My current thoughts, as leader and overseer of this expedition, are to craft us a weapon each from abundant obsidian, aside from our hunter who is excited to get his hands on a proper bow. We seven pioneers come from markedly seperate backgrounds, and were chosen not for our merits individually, but as a group; with luck, we should between us manage the foundations of the fort with naught but success.
Trying to concentrate on this is excruciating as our belongings rattle away curses in their overlarge box, tethered carelessly to a ramshackle wagon that could pass for the work of an elf. If I can think, I recall ordering five picks and two axes so that basic labour may be dealt with sharply, as well as a hefty bundle of rope and a single bow for our hunter; the rest should consist of nothing but seeds and copious amounts of food and drink. I have no idea how our meagre supplies are capable of such a racket. I also made the damning error of buying five dogs and a cow, none of whom will shut up for two seconds. The noise alone is driving me mad.
