Aris Cretu's journal

Twenty-third of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

Chronicler Vian was asking around the camp a few days ago. Unusual man, what with all his focus on books, but a good officer. He was asking about why the locals (and us new bloods) were so mad at Sapphire. I did my best to explain it to him, and I could tell he was actually listening. By the end of it, he was almost as mad as Tam was when she got cut and lost her helmet.

Speaking of, Tam is healthy, and Sgt. Gork is getting us prepared for a pre-dawn raid on one of the outposts the orcs now hold. Sneak in, grab anything important, throw some lit torches around, and run away again. I don't expect the fifteen of us to do much more than anger the orcs, but who knows, it might actually slow them down. Everyone else is getting some sleep, but I can't for some reason. I can't stop thinking random things over, or checking my gear, or writing things down, or worrying about things I can't control. The one upside is that I found out that Tam snores worse than Sgt. Gork. Well, that and the fact that I'll get first pass at the tea pot when the time comes. Cherry Bean, black, triple brewed, with a pinch of salt and (if we're lucky) a shot of Bragg's homebrew. That stuff will put hair on a bear and wake the dead in the doing.

Speak of the thing and it appears. Sgt. Gork is awake, and he's got a flask. Time to start the dance.

Shaman's Records

Twenty-third of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

Shaman Koroc the Singer of Clan Glacierheart recording.

Warlord Elder Lokk the Brutal is touring the forward outposts, and had brought me along for a pre-dawn inspection of the sentries. The humans, both free and enslaved, have been quiet of late. They are probably planning something, but the Runes...

[The page is marred by spilled ink and blood.]

Shaman Initiate Mul the Feisty of Clan Glacierheart recording.

Mayhem. A small warband of Clan Ironbark came out of the night, forty or fifty strong, with fury on their lips. The Shamans are still sorting out the casualties, but several things are clear from the scene I found here.

The Clan Ironbark warband began their attack here, and had the fortune (fair for them, foul for Clan Glacierheart) to come across Warlord Elder Lokk the Brutal and Shaman Koroc the Singer inspecting the watch-orcs. The fight was vicious, if the shed blood on the ground is any indicator, but Clan Ironbark was victorious. They didn't stop with ambushing the watch-orcs. They also freed the slaves from the pens before vanishing back into darkness before the dawn.

They have done more damage to Clan Glacierheart then they know. Warlord Elder Lokk the Brutal is dead, and Shaman Koroc the Singer is missing. The honor of keeping the Records falls to me, at least until Shaman Koroc the Singer's fate is known. I can but hope that I do them proper honor.

Chronicler Vian's Log

Twenty-third of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

If history looks back for a turning point in this war, then let this day not be forgotten. Before the sun had even risen on this day, Ur-hander Sargent Gork 'the Scarred' Burling, of the Fifth platoon of the Ironbark Mercenary Company, accompanied only by his depleted squad, struck a blow that may well prove fatal to the orc Clan encroaching on the Westmarch Valley. In a close-run skirmish, he managed to slay the Warlord of that clan. Of the men and women under his command, two others also acted with distinction worth recording here. The Ur-hander Private Samantha 'Tam' Fiskr was responsible for leading three other men in breaking through to the slave pens, freeing the slaves, and leading them to freedom, liberating sixty-eight souls from bondage. The Ur-hander Private Aris Cretu captured an orc Shaman, having caught him writing in a book.

The morale of both Ironbark and the Westmarchers needed this lift. The freed slaves and word of the slain warlord will strengthen the resolve of all of us. Severing the 'head' of our foe by slaying the Warlord with dishearten our foes. But the most decisive blow may well be the capture of the shaman. Warlords are replaceable, when all is said and done (albeit with some disruption in the clan-structure), but having their Shaman simply vanish is a strike at their soul. Not to mention all of the information and intelligence it may be possible to extract from the Shaman in question.

Yet there may be another opportunity here, if the Gods are kind. The Westmarchers are of a mind to make a bid for independence from the Jeweled Cities, and could use all of the allies they can get. The orc Clan is pressing their claim on the Westmarch valley, but perhaps, just perhaps, they may be willing to come to some settlement with the Westmarchers. Perhaps even a binding alliance against Sapphire and the rest of the Jeweled Cities.

If this does come to pass, then woe betide the armies of the Jeweled Cities when the Council tries to force the issue at the point of a pike. Human discipline and tactics, alloyed with orc ferocity and cunning... I shudder just to think of it. Sapphire, Ruby, and Opal may be able to muster six thousand soldiers, if they scrape their defenses to the bone, but even so large a force would be hard pressed in any attempt to take this particular valley.

Whatever the Gods have planned, it does seem that we live in interesting times indeed.

Shaman's Records

Twenty-third of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

Shaman Koroc the Singer of Clan Glacierheart recording.

This section will need to be inserted between the pages of the official records when they are transcribed.

I can still feel the lump on my head where the human warrior struck me. I am enslaved, with all of this dishonor that state caries. Yet these humans are not unkind to their slaves. I have received healing, food and water, even quill, ink, and paper to keep Records upon. Perhaps the half-orc warrior I saw earlier was able to identify me as a shaman, or perhaps the human warrior who took me knew what the Records I was working upon when he hit me. They were left behind for a Shaman initiate to find and preserve, although they most certainly are marked by spilled ink, and perhaps even blood.

Of the half-orc warrior who led the Clan Ironbark warband on their raid, I am certain it is the same one I saw upon the goat trails almost two months ago. That being true, then I will certainly hear of the exploits of the human female warrior who accompanies him, and of the tales of the other warriors in that same warband. If they are worth making Clan-song of, then I will record them, that their fame will not be forgotten should Clans Ironbark and Westmarch fall.

I do not know what the Elders of Clans Westmarch and Ironbark plan to do with me, but perhaps I will find out. Two of their Elders approach now.

Chronicler Vian's Log

Twenty-third of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

It is both better than I hoped and worse than I feared. As I had proposed based upon the banners that they used, the orc Clans of the Glacierheart mountains have come together in a single clan. I had hoped that such a unification was not without bloodshed, that there was only a single Warlord and Shaman in the new clan. I was wrong.

On the 'worse than feared' side of the balance sheet, Clan Glacierheart (as they call themselves) is guided by a group of Elders, the Shaman, Warlords (well, Warlord now) and Warlady of the pre-unification Clans. The death of Warlord Elder Lokk the Brutal, and the capture of Shaman Koroc the Singer will disrupt their plans, but not stop them.

On the 'better than hoped' side of that same sheet is the fact that both Shaman Koroc and Shaman Elder Wolfbite Glacierheart, the chief shaman of the Clan, suspected that some peace deal might be possible. Better yet, they were also thinking along the lines of accepting land here in the Westmarch valley in exchange for fighting against the Jeweled Cities.

If only we could get the Elders and the Westmarchers to sit down at a bartering table in good faith. Perhaps, just perhaps, this winter need not be a saga of senseless slaughter.