Journal of a Monk

[Okiba]

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.

[Okiba]

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.

[Okiba]

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.

[Okiba]

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.

[Okiba]

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 the Warchief -- 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.

[Okiba]

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. I have been scammed at 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

[Okiba]

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.

[Okiba]

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.

[Okiba]

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.

[Okiba]

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.

[Okiba]

Monday, 9th day of the twelfth month,

I’m probably going to freeze to death starve 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 hope you choke on my bones someone makes you into a pie.

I could kill for some bacon. i'll make the descent tomorrow, come what may.

[Okiba]

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. I can only hope will find her.

I'll have to give the clans Orcs a proper lesson on how to build shelters when I return.

[Okiba]

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.

[Okiba]

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.

[Okiba]

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.