Thursday, 3rd day of the fifth Month.
I hate ships. I've hated them since I was a grunt. That first journey to the blasted lands and then Hellfire, then to Northrend and Tol'barad. I hate ships.
Hate is a foolish emotion though. Rather, I feel uneasy with them. So much so I keep depositing my breakfast over the side of this hulk.
We sailed from Domination point four days ago, on a hulk in a small convoy. I'm sat in a hold full of carrots, rice and turnips. It's been a struggle to keep my sausage laden kodo from eating half of it. Our destination? Bladefist bay and home.
I do not know why I decided to start writing this Journal. Perhaps what Uncle Jihaan said at Tian Monastery stuck with me and inwardly I am finding ways to move forward.
"Don't be an Orc Monk. Or a Monk Orc" he said...
"Be Okiba first, and the rest second" finished the Wise old bear.
It's something to keep in mind.
four more days of sloshing around on the sea, and we arrive. home, and to the clan. If they are indeed on Kalimdor. Since reading the copy of the clan Annals (it's history) I have learnt a great deal of them, their past, habbits and future. They are nomads, we are nomads. I am a nomad. Hopefully I catch up with them soon.
Summer is coming, and all great occasions and events love summer.
Sunday, 6th day of the Fifth month.
I have stopped feeling ill due to the motion of the waves.
The crew of this ship tell me that this is normal. Apparently there are three types of sailors... Firstly, those that do not mind or notice the motion of the sea. Second, those who need a few days to get used to it with spells of illness... that is where I sit. Lastly, those who never get used to it and are normally called "land-lubbers" or "bilge-fillers".
I think I still prefer life in the saddle over life on the ocean wave. And according to the clan Annals I borrowed from Steelheart, the clan does too.
The ache in my shoulder is now all but gone. The ointments, needle treatments and exercises I was taught have all had th desired effect. Who cares if I keep a chip of my own shoulder bone in a bottle after that surgery? I am renewed. And the wise medicine teachers of the temple were truly kind to gift me a surgeons kit and those scrolls. The things to learn in that temple are staggering...
I dreamed of the war again last night. Of the fighting in Tol'barad, and Krasarang. The screaming would not stop, and all through it all I cold hear was the voice of Jihaan once more. "Be Okiba first, the rest second".
It has given me the resolve to press on and find out who I am. The clan will help me. And I shall learn by doing that which I already know of myself... I shall teach.
I am no great warlord, shaman or stalwart of virtues and character. but I enjoy gaining knowledge and wisdom, and imparting it to others. Pandaria has taught me this.
First I will start with my old weekly lessons, and take on some newbloods if I can. After that? who knows. I intend to climb the path of strength. Perhaps in time, I will be it's Siffu... rather, its instructor. The Rrosh'tul can lead and command, and bid me teach in their stead.
Who knows. This is fanciful aspiration so far. But an Orc can aspire?
An orc should aspire.
Monday, 7th day of the fifth Month,
We have sighted land. It looked to be the eastern reaches of Tanaris and the thousand needles, or so the the captain told me.
We are only one day from Home, Orgrimmar. I cannot help but feel a degree of apprehension. Will they remember me? Will they still even be intact?
The defeat of the Legion likely drew a heavy toll.
No, I sense it in my bones. Even now I hear whispered voices on the wind, the spirit link is there if distant...
To pass the time and be best prepared I have mustered and accounted for all my possessions and the items I brought back with me from Pandaria.
Key among these items, is the length of Kypari wood and Living steel ingots I took possession of. It took some aggressive trading, but they will make me a superb weapon in due course. Though what shape it will take I cannot yet say.
The Kodo ate a crate of carrots in the hold while we was all scrubbing the top deck.
The captain will be glad to be rid of me and the mouth on legs.
Sunday, 13th day of the fifth month,
I arrived back to the clan in the crossroads. Turns out they spent the last weeks fighting alongside centaur in an effort to bring order to the northern barrens. Stranger things have happened!
Most elders have yet to show themselves, but apparently we are to now hunt mercenary bandits in the jungles of stranglethorn. I look forward to the hunt, and honorable battle bringing some justice. Hopefully I will be able to prove myself as a capable adition to the Iron guard, a tue Nag'ogar in the coming weeks.
Before we set out for the jungle i led a small patrol of the Northern barrens. Between killing pirates, raptors and cannibal quilboar I got to know a little about my fellow clan members, new and older. An interesting bunch, most in need of a bit of military discipline during such patrols. That, and many lack a real wolf mount, which will need remedying.
Found a wolf pup runt in the kennels before i departed. Seems the rest of the pack didn't view it as worth the milk. It's in Throatrenders hands now, hopefully she raises it well. I'd raise it myself, but this eagle chick is eating every bit of meat I get. Oh, yes, I found an eagle egg in pandaria. That's a thing now.
Hopefully the jungle is not too humid.
Monday, 21st day of the fifth month,
We were ambushed. Us and the Horde troop known as "Alligator Squad". Lured into the jungle separately, to the same spot by similar letters to our leaders. Assassins in the dark all around, if Ripclaw hadn't of gotten that flare off we'd be with the ancestors now. Not sure what became of the Alligator squad, but we've made it Hardwrench Hideaway, and more goblin madness.
I tended several wounds last night using the surgeons kit I was gifted by the healers at the temple of the Jade serpent. Dekuul in particular, seemed squeemish, he had an arrow in his cheek.
My Nag'ogar weapon is complete, hence my lack of recent entry's. I decided to go with the Polearm, in the end. It should prove suitably effective and visually deterring for any foe I come to face. Hopefully it allows me to serve the clan effectively also. The problem remains though, once the Rrosh'tul approves it, which spirit do I seek to bless it?
It's warm, the mosquitoes are out. I'd remove my leathers but the idea of being infected with some cruel disease through being bitten is less appealing than sweating.
Hopefully we will see the end of the scum in this jungle soon enough.
Tuesday, 23rd day of Ish'Magor the fifth month,
It has been some time since I last made an entry in this journal, and I feel it is long over due, especially now I have much to think on.
It was a whirlwind journey to Pandaria from the blasted lands. Jihaan has been attacked, stabbed and bludgeoned near to death by thieves in the Redstaff family home. They took his armour, and the much coveted 'Redstaff'. Family heirlooms are precious, and these are exactly that. Jihaan recovers steadily, and soon we will set out to find the thieves. By all accounts led by a Worgen, it was a Draenei, Gnome, troll and goblin that escaped on a cloud serpent after their cowardly attack. The shado-pan are at a loss, and too busy keeping the war out of Pandaria, despite the best efforts of both Huojin and Tushui to escalate the conflict.
I have found contentment in training while I wait. Meditating, and improving my serpent style techniques. Though this has not stopped my mind wandering back to the clan. I regret missing the Kosh'harg (again), and leaving them so suddenly. but I owe the Redstaff family a great debt.
I regret even more the way I left things with Grimtide and Steelheart. Our opinions differed greatly, but it in no way makes my words acceptable. I shall have to apologize when I return.
Inspector Pong will arrive later in the week, and then our search begins.
Friday, 26th day of Ish'Magor the fifth month,
Jihaan is on his feet. Pandaren medicine and medical arts are truly miraculous and I'm glad I've spent the last few days studying just such arts as he healed. And with the arrival of inspector Pong, I suspect it won't be long now before we head out to find the culprits. Apparently, according to the Inspector, there has been a string of such incidents all across the continent where thieves target heirlooms, artifacts and items of historical or magical value.
Meanwhile, during my few days studying in the temple of the Jade serpent, I came across some interesting books in the library. In particular regarding how the Shado-pan and mogu have used a similar weapon to stave off Mantid kypari and amber weapons. 'Dragon guns', and interesting tool that spews flame and sparks to ignite and incinerate messy chemical or botanical weapons. I feel this may be an extremely useful tool for the 'future'. Sadly the Shado-pan guard the recipe and designs for such closely, a pity.
I've also managed to get hold of some newspapers. It's pleasing to know the Kosh'harg went well. Though less pleasing to see the state of Orgrimmar and the way the war is unfolding. Above all else, I can only be content that the clan is thriving despite all this. With some luck, I shall return to them sooner, rather than later.
Saturday, 27th th day of Ish'Magor the fifth month,
Yesterday I observed what once I believed to be impossible, but now know to be a miracle of knowledge.
A Pandaren artisan named shuang-zei had an accident at his timber mill near the temple of the jade serpent. For one reason or another while working on his craft, shaping wood and creating lumber, his arm had been cut off in heavy machinery. Separated in the middle of his forearm, the cut was clean and he had lost a lot of blood.
His wife, very wisely, put the severed limb on ice and bound his upper elbow with two belts to prevent blood loss as his two sons dragged the wounded bear to the temple physicians upon a cart.
Upon arrival, he was taken to a 'clean room' and placed upon a flat, padded table. This is where my observations began.
First, they had him breathe in from a concoction of two mixed chemicals that smelled of varies herbs and oddly of pure alcohol. This rendered him asleep, but more importantly he felt no pain as he slept. Throughout the procedure a linen cloth doused in the mixture was placed under his snout or over his mouth for him to breathe from.
Once this was done, the physicians produced complicated surgical gear. This included knives, forceps, clamps, needles, pins, bolts, screws, potions, mixtures and text books.
After two hours of laborious work, and much avid but confused watching, they had re-attached his arm. I'm told he should make a full recovery in time. his arm now sits in a tight sling, cooled by ice while stitched together. The clamps, pins and bolts are placed through his arm in various points to bind the bone, sinew and flesh together in a firm and correct position. How they managed to re-attached blood vessels, ligaments and nerves is yet beyond my grasp. But I do know two things...
I am both impressed, and inspired.
Sunday, 5th day of the fifth month,
Jihaan, myself and the eccentric Inspector Pong have set out on our journey to find the family heirlooms and put an end to these widespread thefts. Jihaan is all but recovered, if a little slow in his movement. He has made a near full recovery, though I suspect losing his armor and weapons to those thieves has stung him deeper than any knife. Afterall, few can claim to have worked the lightning forge. He wears a set of simple chain mail and carries a war-hammer for now.
Ou first destination will be Halfhill in the valley of four winds. Apparently there has been a theft there also, Hopefully we can pick up the trail of these thieves.
Pong is unusual but an excellent companion. While camped by the bridge between the Jade forest and Valley for the night, a pair of Tushui (A Pandaren and a Human) passed us by on some alliance business. Though the war is not 'ongoing' here, they were quick and eager to make conflict with Jihaan for displaying his Huojin colors. Despite Pongs protests, they insisted on attempting to cause violence.
So the inspector whipped them senseless with his hand fan.
It's rare to see a crane style master, especially these days, but he soundly left them twitching violently, but ultimately unharmed, in the dirt.
My absence from the clan continues to make my heart weary, but an Orcs word is his bond and I must see this through. Thankfully I am in fine company, even if a little 'home' sick.
Hopefully I can get some steaks in Halfhill market.
Sunday, 5th day of the fifth month,
Jihaan, myself and the eccentric Inspector Pong have set out on our journey to find the family heirlooms and put an end to these widespread thefts. Jihaan is all but recovered, if a little slow in his movement. He has made a near full recovery, though I suspect losing his armor and weapons to those thieves has stung him deeper than any knife. Afterall, few can claim to have worked the lightning forge. He wears a set of simple chain mail and carries a war-hammer for now.
Ou first destination will be Halfhill in the valley of four winds. Apparently there has been a theft there also, Hopefully we can pick up the trail of these thieves.
Pong is unusual but an excellent companion. While camped by the bridge between the Jade forest and Valley for the night, a pair of Tushui (A Pandaren and a Human) passed us by on some alliance business. Though the war is not 'ongoing' here, they were quick and eager to make conflict with Jihaan for displaying his Huojin colors. Despite Pongs protests, they insisted on attempting to cause violence.
So the inspector whipped them senseless with his hand fan.
It's rare to see a crane style master, especially these days, but he soundly left them twitching violently, but ultimately unharmed, in the dirt. I can only pray that such occurrences don't worsen, and the war stays firmly away from these shores.
My absence from the clan continues to make my heart weary, but an Orcs word is his bond and I must see this through. Thankfully I am in fine company, even if a little 'home' sick.
Hopefully I can get some steaks in Halfhill market.
Sunday, 10th day of the fifth month,
I thought the peace and revelry of halfhill would keep me content these past days, with all the food, ale and good company I could want. But I had not counted on the nightmares again...
I was in Icecrown, my body rooted to the spot. Feet trapped in ice as clouds of green and black death erupted all around. Shadows moved in the colored mist, screaming, writhing in terror stricken agony. And I could do nothing, again.
Jihaan woke me, it was late. He asked why I was shaking, I tlod him it was the warm air. I think he doubted my answer and doubts I have moved past my time in the army. Though that is not why he woke me.
Another robbery had occurred, this time a famous bell, struck to herald the start of the farming season as well as it's harvesting end. Grand and bronze, it would also be used to herald the local tournaments and competitions. It was precious to the town, and taken from their mayors abode.
We have ridden west in pursuit of the thieves, Jihaan presses us hard now at a pace while Inspector Pong quizzes any and all for sightings of the strange multi-race group we seek.
We're catching up. And soon we will confront them.
Friday, 17th day of Akal,
The hunt has been intense, the thieves even abandoned the stolen bell in order to make haste and slow us down. While bystanders handed the item to the people of stoneplow to send back to Half-hill.
Myself, Jihaan and Inspector Pong continued the hunt, ranging far and wide across the western valley over the last week. The thief, when finally cornered in a ravine separating the valley from western Krasarang, turned out to be a Darkspear Troll. His behavior was most peculiar. Acting almost obedient to some unseen set of strings, he attacked us brutally using the monk arts, but myself and Jihaan managed to pin him down...
...Then his eyes and ears bled torrents of crimson while he screamed and soon enough he died, without a strike even touching him. A bizarre occurrence. Whomever was commanding him may have 'booby-trapped' him in some fashion, or perhaps a suicide like the human poison pills? It was unsettling, conjuring up images in y mind of the wrath-gate. I quickly had to hide my shaking hand from the others before we proceeded.
The path ahead is unclear. However, the Troll was headed for notorious smugglers path into the south and it is into the jungle wilds we now head. Perhaps at the temple of the Red crane we may find answers.
Tuesday, Fourth day of the Sixth Month.
He did something to our memories.
I don't know what, or how, but HE did something. We found the thieves, did great battle with them, lost and won, retreated and advanced. All in a long, dark cave network within the jungles of Krasarang.
Having chased them back to the trove, we confronted their leader. A dark robed Pandaren who I suspect is the famed and feared 'Black Crane'. He used his shadow magic, wiped our memories of his face, and freed the fools he had mind controlled into serving and stealing for him.
We return to Half-hill now, we have a dozen confused former thieves, carting all of the equipment. Well, not all, Jihaan is wearing his armor, and I have the honor of carrying the Redstaff back to its rightful home.
This has been a strange encounter.
Monday, 17th day of Mor'vaul,
With all of the stolen items now returned to their true owners, and the thieves handed to the shado-pan, I've had time to rest and reflect.
We returned to the Redstaff family home in the Jade forest, the family deeply grateful for the return of not only the familys vaunted stave, but also Jihaan returning no more hurt than when this adventure began, and even with his armour.
I've spent the last week practicing quietly in the hills. Using the opportunity to hone, and further my training in both the Tiger and Serpent styles... though oddly, having spent so much time with the clan now, I feel more inclined to reverting back to my own style. This has given many frowns of confusion and intrigue alike when the local instructors and masters observe my techniques, locally sourced or self made.
It should only be another four weeks before I return to Durotar. I can feel the call of the pack beckoning, and the news of the war makes a return all the more urgent. It was hard to think, when hearing all the heralds or reading edicts and papers in Kalimdor, but the public opinion here in Pandaria? It's neutral, without bias and objective.
The world, Beyond the Horde and Alliance...
...Views us, the Horde, to be losing the war.
Sunday, 23rd day of Mor’vaul the sixth month,
I am alarmed by how tense the jade forest is becoming. The Huojin and Tuishi skirt around each other like circling sharks or buzzards, while the neutral groups loyal to Pandaria must constantly remind them off the peace. Last night the Shado-pan had to quell a brawl in the tavern at the port of shan-grilla, the Horde and Alliance involved were bayed on by Forsaken, barely held back by the Huojin and Tuishi but ultimately quelled and sent back to their respective outposts with bruises and stunned heads gifted by three skilled Wu-kao. The Shado-pan, now with free hands, is being firm and decisive with foreign powers.
Thankfully I and Jihaan have kept clear of the chaos. Though I sense Uncle is beginning to question his and the Huojins part in the war. While he was content to keep the peace here in Pandaria, he is less inclined to incite conflict or tolerate those who do.
While I am dismayed at the activity here, Inspector Pong took the time to show me some techniques he thought I may benefit from learning. We trained in a forest clearing just south of the temple of the jade serpent. It seems the system he showed me has a focus on combating armed and armored opponents by deflecting or ensnaring strikes, only to use the energy they use against them by twisting would be weak points in Armour. The knee’s, wrists, neck, shoulders, ankles, elbows. All are vulnerable on an armored foe and the follow up counter attacks are brutal, thus these techniques will be extremely handy in future. Surprisingly this system is not part of his own Crane style, but a sub-system of the white tiger, known as “sitting Tiger”, or so he tells me. With a gift of three scrolls and plenty of time to practice I am suddenly dreading but also eager to return to the clan.
The next ship home is in two weeks, and I am eager to get back to work.
Vrull willing, the war has not harmed them.
Monday, 1st day of Gorosh, the Seventh Month,
With my errand complete and all other matters I wished to seen to, now approaches the time for my return to the clan. It should be less than a week before I board a ship to Durotar or Ratchet.
With the little time I have remaining here I have seen to learning to understand the inner workings of these "Dragon Guns" the pandaren use to burn away Mantid kypari chemicals or sha infection. The use of such devices could be extremely handy if, as so many here in this continent seem to indicate, the war is going against the Horde. More so, I do not intend to be blighted a third time.
I have also begun planning for incursions into the home regions of Kalimdor, should the alliance manage to push into our Horde heartland then we must have everything ready to repel them beforehand, and not have to spend weeks or months scrounging supplies together. During the Darkspear rebellion I'm told, that supplies from the Barrens, Ashenvale and Azshara played a key role in the downfall of Orgrimmar. This is an example and lesson I shall take to heart, and begin finding the supplies, tools and locations to create a formidable network of supply stashes...
...to either defend, or save, Orgrimmar. No plan should face only one direction. Whatever turn the war takes, or whatever the path the Chieftain and elders decide, we must be ready with the right tools and equipment.
Wednesday, 3rd day of Gorosh, the Seventh Month,
I am in luck, I have boarded a merchant vessel travelling from the jade forest bound for ratchet. Uncle Jihaan gave me a warm farewell, with plenty of gifts for myself and the clan in hand. I shall miss him, though once again I worry that the war is sitting heavy on his spirits.
The weather is awful, the goblin captain informs me that storms are likely and we may have to divert course and likely be heavily delayed. The rough seas are playing all fel with my insides...
...I do not recall eating carrots this week.
Monday, the 8th day of Gorosh, the Seventh Month,
The sea has calmed, a little. However it is no less safe. The captain has had to employ all his skills to avoid Alliance naval patrols, even on one occasion having to threaten a Kul'tiran sloop with a "lawsuit" if he boarded us, waving his steamwheedle cartel flag. It did the trick, this time.
We also came across two burning Horde corsairs. There were no survivors, only well fed sharks and debris. The sea is no longer safe for anyone, even pirates or so the captain tells me, so they sit in port waiting for the war to end or a suitable side to pick.
We may be stopping in Tanaris, in Gadgetzan for a few days to wait out further bad weather or alliance warships. Reaching Kalimdor is proving problematic.
I only hope the Clan is safe, I have received no word from them since my departure and can only guess where they are.
Saturday, the 13th day of Gorosh, the Seventh Month,
We have arrived in Gadgetzan, beset by poor weather in all directions we have taken refuge in the neutral harbor town. While the sea is rough with high winds but without rain, the desert is blindingly awash with a sandstorm. We were lucky to dock safely, the captain is deeply vexed and cannot give me any guarantee's of when we will arrive in ratchet. The land is also closed off to me by the sand.
I have however found some comfort in the tavern, with salted pork and a firm ale. The opportunity to hear all manner of news, comings and goings has been welcome as it is much more fresh here. In particular the supposed treason of Baine blood hoof, and his escape with aid from the High Overlord and theWarchief-- Son of Durotan, was of great interest.
I can't even guess how this has effected the clan. The sooner I get back and lend a hand with whatever I can, the better.
There's sand in my beer. Again. I hate the desert.
Wednesday, the 17th day of Gorosh, the Seventh Month,
The stormy weather has abated and the sand-storms have ceased. We have set sail at last. And not without every goblin in Gadgetzan trying to swindle me. I bought two bottles of rum and a curious potion that makes me shrink or turn into a skeleton. Ihave been scammedat least can get some use out of it for Hallows end. The Rum may also be rocket fuel.
We make land-fall in Ratchet in a few days time, and then, home to Durotar and the clan.
I have been away far too long
Wednesday, 13th day of the 11th month,
At long last I have headed out on my personal journey. A Pilgrimage only I can partake in. My destination? I would tell, if I knew.
It has long been my desire to seek out and discover my origins. My true family, my clan of birth and parents. I have little, if truth be told, nothing to go on. I can only ask those who cared for me as a child, the Orcs of the internment camps. In particular one I remember being known only as 'Matron Morath".
I can't even guess where she is now, or if she is still alive. But after long discussions and searching in orgrimmar the matrons in the orphanage gave me indications she resides now, once again, in Hammerfall. I have a long sea journey ahead of me.
I already miss the comfort and purpose that comes with being among the clan.
Wednesday, 27th day of the eleventh month,
It has been a long sea voyage. The late autumn winds and early winter tides have been very much against us every bumpy wave of the way. The captain of this Galleon is an enterprising Goblin in service to Bilgewater, He assures me that this problem was inevitable but keeps quoting that key Goblin mantra of “time is money” while hinting he’d prefer to charge his passengers on the same basis.
We will land in Raventusk village, in the hinterlands. This takes me some way out of the way from a straight landing off of Hillsbrad or Arathi, but if I want to reach Hammerfall I cannot cross the great wall named of Thoradin of the humans. Stromgarde is a powerful alliance bastion once more, and with the fall of Ar’gorok I can’t simply walk through their lands. No, it’ll have to be over the mountains or through the Dwarven passage.
It’ll be no Kun-lai hike, but the lateness of the year means snow, and those steep slopes are unknown to me. Hopefully the humans and Wildhammer do not guard the tunnel.
I regret that I will not be able to share in this experience with the rest of the clan. But my blood heritage is mine alone, and a history I have to learn for myself. I must admit, now I walk this path I cannot help but admit to myself I feel a degree of apprehension. Did my clan of birth and true parents give me up reluctantly or willingly? Were they honorable or despicable? Perhaps they drank deep of the blood of Mannaroth, or yet still, shunned the dark gift of Gul’dan.
Time will tell.
Also, I forgot to pack sausages. At least the food Kulgha gave me for the journey has kept me going.
Friday, 29th day of the eleventh month,
We arrived safely into the village of Raventusk, albeit after some continued rough weather that regularly saw much of the crew, and myself on one occasion, view what we had for breakfast once again. I hate travelling by ship.
My journey west was prompt, and Vrorg carried me swift and sure, the Half-garn seemed happy to be able to stretch his legs and feel the heat in his lungs with a long run. Thankfully, the Dwarven tunnel remained unguarded, the reason why eludes me, perhaps the Alliance is committed to the armistice and did not wish to force conflict with the Horde by cutting off its outposts. Or perhaps they simply did not have the men to spare. Either way, I am glad I did not have to risk scaling the mountains, they are already thoroughly snowcapped.
I rest now in a sheltered nook, nestled in a thicket pressed against the northern hills. A human farm is clear to the south east… I shall avoid it and make good the rest of my journey to Hammerfall tomorrow while giving the resurgent people of this human kingdom a wide birth.
Saturday, 30th day of the eleventh month,
It didn’t take long to find out that I will not be staying in the outpost long. Hammerfall is a warm reprieve from winter, both on land and after a long sea voyage. But inevitably, as if I felt the dread of it in my bones, the Grunts and citizens of the outpost all pointed me toward the north eastern hills, and the snowcapped mountains.
If I am to find the matron, I must climb, and climb well. I’ve managed to gather sufficient climbing stores, packs of dry and salted food, oil for starting fires and some suitable rope. Climbing tools were more difficult to come by so I had to resort to making some of my own through more make-shift means.
The problem will be finding her. I’m told the upper peaks are much more traversable, but the snows will make it hard going this time of year. With no clear knowledge of her whereabouts I will have to be lucky, and clever. I judge it wisest to work my way from the western to the eastern, return to Hammerfall as a base camp for supplies if that search yields no fruit, then search north to south. Spirits willing, no snow storms or the like form.
Probably best buy some Ram and bear furs too, I have no intention of becoming an Orc-sicle.
Monday, 9th day of the twelfth month,
I’m probably going tofreeze to deathstarve to death on the side of this mountainside. A blizzard swept in no sooner than I reached the summit, forcing me to make a hasty snow shelter with a barely grown pine-tree at its center. Its small branches allowed me to build it up solidly enough, even though it’s snug in here.
My last rations are nearly expended, and if the snow does not pass by morning I’ll have to risk the decent in the bad weather on a half full stomach, rather than hope for alternatives, good or bad.
My hands are improperly covered for this weather, and frostbite is a constant danger. I may lose a finger on my left hand.
I’m not sure which spirit to pray to right now, I would plead to my ancestors, but the whole purpose of this trip was to discover who they are.Bugger. Perhaps Vrull is watching, Azolg did give me a fine talisman… though the son of strife answers no prayers. Akashok, don’t let me end up a feast for ravens when spring thaws these snows.
If someone finds this, sorry I wasn’t carrying more coin. If you’re a raven, I hopeyou choke on my bonessomeone makes you into a pie.
I could kill for some bacon. i'll make the descent tomorrow, come what may.
Tuesday, 10th day of the twelfth month,
The snow storm has passed. My hand has thankfully not been made a digit less. I found a dead deer in a snow drift, frozen to death I suspect. It'll keep me sustained for a while longer, I need to start heading east along the line of peaks.
She's up here somewhere. Ican only hopewill find her.
I'll have to give the clans Orcs a proper lesson on how to build shelters when I return.
Wednesday, 11th day of the twelfth month,
I found her.
Matron Morath, old and very much now infirm, lives. She is aided by her her Frostwolf son and daughter who have taken to the solitude and refuge this high and secluded place, while she prepares to make her transition to the spirits.
We spoke at length for many hours, it took a great deal of time to jar loose the memory of just me as a pup. But with some effort she revealed a few details. She said my parents and their friend left me with her, before setting out on a great voyage to 'punish' traitors during the second war.
Apparently they did not return, but their blood-brother did. He was a member and raider of the Black tooth Grin clan! I have heard of this clan only in stories regarding the second war, a group of Blackrocks that Blackhand himself created and hand picked to serve the greater clan as scouts and forward raiders.
This clans deeds are varied, but if the Matron speaks true when mentioning a 'great voyage, then they sailed to the Broken isles to hunt down the Stormreavers and Twilights hammer. Did my parents fall on those shores, battling the warlocks?
I have more questions than answers now. But I do have a solid lead. The Matron says my parents friend, an Orc named "Dal'garag", still lives, and may have the answers I seek. Last she knew, he had become one of the flight masters between the burning steppes and the swamp of sorrows.
My journey now takes me south... and I finally have a tangible piece of my heritage. With my own Broken tusk in mind, I am Black Tooth Grin.
Wednesday, 18th day of the twelfth month,
This will be a brief entry.
My descent from the mountains and departure from Hammerfall was a whirlwind of speed. The knowledge that I am on the right path, and so close to the answers I have long sought spurs me on.
I have ridden hard and fast to Dragonmaw port, we sail for the swamp of sorrows tommorow.
Hopefully the weather is better.
Friday, 20th day of the twelfth month,
I have set sail for the swamp of sorrows and the goblin town therein. Hopefully We arrive swiftly.
The weather has been better, allowing for a smooth if cold aired journey. This has allowed me to train, practicing some of the new skills Inspector Pong taught me, as well as hone my tiger style.
I have also meditated, and considered several important questions to consider before my meeting with this Dal'garag:
-Why did my parents become Black tooth grin?
-Where they both Blackrocks before?
-How did they die?
-Did they drink the fel blood?
-Was it a rushed decision or a carefully made one, leaving me behind as they went to war?
All good things in time, I suppose. But other questions burn at the back of my mind.
Saturday, 28th day of the twelfth month,
Well. I found him. Upon arriving in the swamp of sorrows I made the quick journey to Stonard and found him exactly as the old matron said I would, tending the Wyverns.
It took time for me to work up the nerve, and decide the right words, but I spoke to him.
...I will think more on what he told me, before committing them to parchment. I want to share my discovery with the clan first, so it is now to them I return.