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Once Upon A Journal[]
The following has been taken from the pages of the journal of Orak Stonefist, Ralgrenek Clan healer…
Niiman, the 15th day of Fashanos, in the year 5107.
...We set out from the Dragonspine Mountains today, our wagons laden with ale, precious minerals and the supplies necessary to sustain us during our trip. We were to make our way across the pass into the valley below to establish trade with the inhabitants of the town we heard say of a month’s journey away. I looked back as we left with a sudden premonition that I would not be returning anytime soon. We have made camp for the night and all are settled in except for the few who keep watch over us. The fire does little to fight back the bitterness of the cold wind sweeping in upon us this night. I fear I am in for a restless sleep.
Day of the Huntress, the 16th day of Fashanos, in the year 5107.
...I awoke with a start, my bones cold and aching from the night before. We ate a meager breakfast and prepared our caravan for the day ahead. The sun was just beginning to rise, and offered us hope for a warmer day. I spent much of this day pondering the reasoning of my inclusion into this party beyond what comfort and aid I may offer should anything befall us. My brethren are all stout, battle tested dwarves with no fear within their eyes. My only hope is that my healing skills will not be needed and we make for our destination without occurrence and with haste.
Feastday, the 17th day of Fashanos, in the year 5107.
...Our scouts have reported sightings and traces of orcs not far from us. We have all been warned to be wary and ready for anything. It has been but two days, and yet I am missing my home already…
Leyan, the 21st day of Fashanos, in the year 5107.
...It has been an eventful few days that have passed. Our scouts came in contact with a few orcs and dispersed them quickly. They reported back that our caravan is apparently being shadowed and expect an attack soon. Most of us have kept to ourselves preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. We have doubled the sentries at night, but the harbinger of danger hangs over us. To add to our woe, a snow has begun to fall reducing visibility and keeping us huddled together for warmth. I fear sleep will evade me yet another night…
Day of the Huntress, the 23rd day of Fashanos, in the year 5107.
...We were attacked at dawn yesterday. They appeared from a mist, orcs, goblins and sorts of creatures I have never laid eyes upon. I hid beneath a wagon as my brethren tore into their flesh with battle axes and picks, but their numbers were overwhelming. I emerged from my hiding space to help a fallen comrade only to be struck hard in the head and was rendered unconscious.
...I awoke this morning remembering little of the day before. My hair is caked with dried blood and a sharp pain persists from within pounding like the blacksmiths hammer upon his anvil. I can see the smoking remains of our caravan, but know not how I came upon this precipice. Strewn across the area are the bodies of both sides, and a deep red colors the new fallen snow. I drifted in and out of consciousness much of this day, my thoughts returning to my warm hearth, a good ale and a comfortable chair within a place I call home…
…I have lost track of time. Days have passed since I found refuge within a cave. The wind still howls outside and the snow falls heavy. I’ve managed to salvage a few blankets and what little food I could find from the remains of the caravan. I cleaned and bandaged my wounds and have begun the healing process, but am still afraid to light a fire fearing I draw notice to my sanctuary. At night, the war drums still beat within my head and I wake frequently in a sweat as if I’ve been running for days. As soon as the snow lets up, I’ve decided to make my way further down the pass, as I am unsure how safe it is to stay here. I am ever vigilant.
…The snow has let up and the sun now warms my bones. I have packed what little I had and have cautiously made my way down into the valley below. Leaving the snow swept peaks behind seems to have lifted my spirits and I find myself humming old drinking songs and remembering old friends left behind. I have laid traps and have made a fine meal of the small vermin I am able to catch. Alas, the cool water coming down from the mountain streams quench my thirst, but does little to wane my desire for a good ale.
…I do not know how long I have been walking, perhaps days, perhaps weeks. They all seem to blur together as one day passes into the next. I have come across a small path and have been following it with hope that it leads somewhere, anywhere. I have become quite lonely and long for companionship. Perhaps I may stumble across a village or town, but the chance of being found by a band of orcs or otherwise still tugs at me. I must remain optimistic, but cautious.
…The path I was following suddenly turned into a road leading to the gates of a settlement. I have found a safe vantage point and will observe the comings and goings on before I enter as I am unsure if they are friend or foe…
…I finally found the nerve to enter the settlement. Few have passed me by, most taking no notice of me. I have taken solace in finding those of my kind also living here. Food and ale are in abundance here, and I find most folk living here to be quite the friendly sort, and some that aren’t. I still do not understand much of their musings and words, but I have met and apparently made an impression on a few folk that have taken it upon themselves to try and teach me their language. I am humbly thankful for their kindness, and perhaps may settle in amongst them and call this place home.