Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Sept 1, 2014 23:42:19 GMT -5
My name is Shaun. My people were Banished from our home for crimes un-named with little more than the clothes on our backs and the meager supplies we could fit into a cart. There are eight of us in total but more on the way. My wife, Mauretto, is pregnant as is another of the other half dozen people with whom we travel. Though it is Early Springtime now, the days pass rapidly. If we've any hope of survival in this new and unexplored land, we must create a settlement; for though the days are long now, winter is fast upon us.
We begin by creating a stockpile. Our wagon will suffice for small foodstuffs, but larger resources like wood and stone are simply too much for it to bear. We fan out, into the wilderness cutting trees and stone bricks for building. I can't help but notice a bevy of wild foodstuffs in these woods. Roots and edible mushrooms are abundant, and the wilds teem with game. While we've resources enough in our cart to last the eight of us a season or two, eventually we will need to resort to gathering additional food. Let us pray we do not exploit this wilderness too terribly while building our homes.
Late Spring has arrived and we've gathered enough resources to finally lay the foundation of real homes. Though sleeping under the open sky is a feast for the eyes, my body would be thankful for a straw mattress and four walls to keep the wind off. Mauretto, too, will be thankful as her belly swells with each passing day. It will not be long before there is yet another mouth to feed. And while we might appreciate the beauty of the stars, and infant would do poorly exposed to such conditions.
We have also cleared room for a lumberyard. One of our group has suggested that rather than we each cut our own firewood, we instead assign the role to a single person and stockpile. I have been granted this "honor." Do not misunderstand me, I would die for my wife and my people and my unborn child, but in death comes a certain peace. As a woodcutter, my aching hands and spine must rise each morning and return to work.
In the late Summer my daughter was born. Her name is Tillia and she is the first child born since our banishment. Another child, a boy, was born some weeks later to another family. Having her was a joy at first. But our homes are small and cramped, and her incessant crying compounded with the weariness felt after a long day of chopping wood made me intolerable to be around. Mauretto and I split up, or rather, we've taken to living in separate homes. While some among the group see this as a selfish use of resources, I remain firm in my belief that a tired woodcutter is a slow woodcutter; and a town with a woodcutter who under-produces freezes come winter.
And a long winter it was. Beginning in Late Autumn the snows came and the world turned white. I continued to visit my yard each day and cut wood for the settlement. Several others, having constructed a Hunting Lodge and Gatherers Hut deep in the wilderness during the Summer months kept the people fed through our first winter. Though the days were dark and cold, thanks to our careful planning everyone was safe and warm.
Our first full year is complete and in celebration we have officially named our village; Ashwood Butte for the grove of old Ash which grow behind my woodyard. Some have noted Iron in the wilderness and begun gathering that which is easily found at the surface. This has caused tools to weather and break, and our axe-heads grow dull; so we've drawn up plans for a blacksmiths forge. Our head gatherer has noted the presence of various medicinal herbs in the old-woods so a location for a healers shack have been plotted. As well as a couple more homes and a community well.
Yes, surviving our first year has filled our community with hope and optimism. We can only pray that our good fortune continues.
We begin by creating a stockpile. Our wagon will suffice for small foodstuffs, but larger resources like wood and stone are simply too much for it to bear. We fan out, into the wilderness cutting trees and stone bricks for building. I can't help but notice a bevy of wild foodstuffs in these woods. Roots and edible mushrooms are abundant, and the wilds teem with game. While we've resources enough in our cart to last the eight of us a season or two, eventually we will need to resort to gathering additional food. Let us pray we do not exploit this wilderness too terribly while building our homes.
Late Spring has arrived and we've gathered enough resources to finally lay the foundation of real homes. Though sleeping under the open sky is a feast for the eyes, my body would be thankful for a straw mattress and four walls to keep the wind off. Mauretto, too, will be thankful as her belly swells with each passing day. It will not be long before there is yet another mouth to feed. And while we might appreciate the beauty of the stars, and infant would do poorly exposed to such conditions.
We have also cleared room for a lumberyard. One of our group has suggested that rather than we each cut our own firewood, we instead assign the role to a single person and stockpile. I have been granted this "honor." Do not misunderstand me, I would die for my wife and my people and my unborn child, but in death comes a certain peace. As a woodcutter, my aching hands and spine must rise each morning and return to work.
In the late Summer my daughter was born. Her name is Tillia and she is the first child born since our banishment. Another child, a boy, was born some weeks later to another family. Having her was a joy at first. But our homes are small and cramped, and her incessant crying compounded with the weariness felt after a long day of chopping wood made me intolerable to be around. Mauretto and I split up, or rather, we've taken to living in separate homes. While some among the group see this as a selfish use of resources, I remain firm in my belief that a tired woodcutter is a slow woodcutter; and a town with a woodcutter who under-produces freezes come winter.
And a long winter it was. Beginning in Late Autumn the snows came and the world turned white. I continued to visit my yard each day and cut wood for the settlement. Several others, having constructed a Hunting Lodge and Gatherers Hut deep in the wilderness during the Summer months kept the people fed through our first winter. Though the days were dark and cold, thanks to our careful planning everyone was safe and warm.
Our first full year is complete and in celebration we have officially named our village; Ashwood Butte for the grove of old Ash which grow behind my woodyard. Some have noted Iron in the wilderness and begun gathering that which is easily found at the surface. This has caused tools to weather and break, and our axe-heads grow dull; so we've drawn up plans for a blacksmiths forge. Our head gatherer has noted the presence of various medicinal herbs in the old-woods so a location for a healers shack have been plotted. As well as a couple more homes and a community well.
Yes, surviving our first year has filled our community with hope and optimism. We can only pray that our good fortune continues.
