Outskirts of Somewhere.

Forgrim and his damned eight trudged, 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.

Stolen story; please report.

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 to 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 and to offer up to The Dark Thing. It watched as some among the tribe took left the fishing to others and instead were assisting in digging out hovels for them and their clawed companions that sifted through the mud looking for food or picking pieces off of their hauls.

"Murglglg!" The murloc heard a cry and turned to see several others of the tribe pulling open a large wooden structure.

The murlocs starred into the dim building, and saw boats! Not the crude, but still expertly made, craft that they used to get here, but strong and sleek things! With a wet gurgling call, the murloc rallied the others! Some remained to see to the lines and some remained to watch over their small clawed companions, but most rushed over. Their webbed feet smacking against the wet ground and towards the building. When they got there, the murloc turned and gestured towards the boats with a slimed wet phalange.

"Muglgurgl!" The murloc leader called out in a soggy voice.

Then another member of the tribe smacked it with its own webbed limb, sending the murloc falling over and into the mud. The other murloc turned to the tribe and gestured with a webbed slimed phalange towards the boats.

"Gurglmurgl!"

The tribe erupted in cheers and calls at the other murloc's words and rushed forwards towards the boats. Jumping into some while trying to disentangle others from line, as well as themselves. A few were having issues opening the door that separated the boathouse from the river, until the realized they were trying to open it the wrong way.

With access to boats and the river at once again, the murlocs cheered and several pushed off towards the river to begin laying claim to it! Few made it though as some were too small for some of the boats and others were left alone in their rafts. The couple that was both small enough to not be overly cumbersome and unwieldly as well as have extra webbed hands to help steer, made it out onto the river. Where they soon found a new problem.

A small fall. Well, small to a human, it was rather steep for the murlocs. But the poor dumb things were brave and intent on conquest and loot as the two crews of murlocs paddled forwards towards the fall without a hint of concern. Which resulted in both boats falling over the edge and plummeting towards the bottom of the fall.

One boat was overturned, sending the murlocs deep within the river and either quickly being picked up by a fish or hurrying to the shore and returning home. But the other boat had the providence and landed flat on its belly with nothing more than a splash, with their rivals and competitors now overboard and homeward bound, the last remaining crew of murlocs paddled on, intent on plundering those that thought to call the river their home!