Shaman's Records

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

Shaman Initiate Mul the Feisty of Clan Glacierheart recording

Concern grips the Elders. The loss of one of their own was and is certainly a shock, but they have called off the raiding parties in the recent days. This is most unusual. The humans, Clans Westmarch and Clan Ironbark, as Shaman Koroc the Singer called them, will have completed their harvest by now and will be preparing for a long winter war.

I am young, and Ill-versed in raiding and war, so I have dug back through the Records, seeking Clan-songs that tell of similar situations. None match exactly, save perhaps an old song of two Clans (Wargfur and Treebreaker, both now long dead) seeking to come to an agreement instead of fighting a blood feud to the finish.

I also came across mentions of rune-castings by both Shaman Koroc the Singer and Shaman Elder Wolfbit Glacierheart. In particular, the unusual falling of their runes: One rune always in shadow (no mention of which, an odd omission), and a clumping of human, orc, and war that suggests humans and orcs fighting together against a common foe. I have yet to finish carving my own runes, so I cannot make a casting of my own to see some of what they perhaps saw.

But when I stare at the stars in the darkness, up atop a hill away from the camp and the firelight, I feel a shadow across the stars. The worst is yet to come.

Shaman's Records

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

Shaman Elder Wolfbite Glacierheart recording

With Shaman Koroc missing, presumed dead or taken, many Shamans would consider it unusual that I let his initiate continue to keep the Records in his absence. I think otherwise. Mul the Feisty is a smart and perceptive young she-orc, and a promising Shaman Initiate as well.

As her instructor in Shaman Koroc's absence, it does fall to me to check her work. And though she cannot yet cast the runes or swing a war-club properly, she has made several excellent points. It is when instructing students that Shamans themselves are oft made to revisit their own training. The rune that fell is shadow, time and again, was the rune for the future, often called fate. Sometimes it falls in light, most often in half-light or shadow, only rarely indeed does it fall into darkness. When it does, it is a sign of an approaching set of crossing paths, of uncertainty, of opportunity, and of danger unseen.

These are interesting times indeed, for good and for ill. I think I will accompany Mul to that hilltop of hers, that we might sit in silence and stare at the stars. And perhaps, just perhaps, I will see the same shadow across the stars that she does.

Chronicler Vian's Log

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

Ur-hander Private Aris Cretu is now officially the Chronicler's Assistant along with Old Leon. His vocabulary and reading in Common is quite good, but his handwriting is... well, calling it chicken scratch is on the generous side. Old Leon is working with him on that, as well as introducing Aris to the older Logs.

And with that announcement completed, onto today's happenings. The Clan Glacierheart raids have fallen off, and the skirmishing has followed suit. I am not sure if this is due in part to the loss of Warlord Elder Lokk, or just a shift to a defensive posture while the build up their camps in preparation for the coming winter. Either suits Ironbark well enough, and the Westmarchers as well. The harvest is almost completed, which will fill the stores here in the Fort to the brim and then some, given that no crops are flowing back to Sapphire this winter.

Koroc the Singer, the captured orc shaman, is also a Log keeper for his Clan, though all the shamans of a clan contribute to the same Log. Oh how I wish we could read those Logs. So much history written down, read and sung aloud in Clan-songs for all to hear. Perhaps we should borrow a page from Clan Glacerheart and organize and annual reading from the Logs? Something to tie this company together, to remind it of its history, of challenges faced and overcome.

I think I'll leave Airs and Old Leon to watch over the Captain's meeting with the Westmarchers. Instead, I'll talk to Koroc the Singer some more. If I am to establish this tradition, then I had best establish it right. He should have some ideas about how to go about doing so, given his experience with a similar tradition.

Chronicler Vian's Log

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

Old Leon, retired Chronicler, substituting for Chronicler Vian.

Sigh. Vain's off talking to the captured orc quill-pusher, and he's managed to stick me with taking notes on the weekly meeting. Well, he stuck Aris with taking the notes, but his handwriting is so bad I'd have to re-write it all anyway, So I'm making the notes and Aris is here listening in. Probably going to be more grumbling and shouting with nothing of worth getting done.

Well, the sun is about to set, and just as I predicted, tempers have run short and no one is willing to agree on anything. The Captain said he is of half a mind to simply walk on this contract and leave the Westmarchers to be saved by the Jeweled Cities. Kind of hard on the blokes, but we aren't getting paid to die for them against their own countrymen. It's just a bluff though, as over half of Ironbark would probably stay behind anyway, pay or no pay, just to shove the pike more firmly in Sapphire's throat.

There's a messenger at the door. Well, it looks like things are finally about to get interesting. Cutting away all of the of the diplomatic horse piss and ass covering, Sapphire just tried to order Westmarch to keep holding out against the orcs until the Jeweled Cities (meaning Sapphire with help from Ruby and Opal) can send their troops to 'drive the orc Clans from the mountains and secure the province.'

The Westmarch garrison commander put it the most succinctly: "Get fucked." In more diplomatic words, he meant 'We'll not give up our sovereign independence. Westmarch will stand alone against the world if need be.'

The growl that went around the table when he said that had teeth to it. A hungry thing, fangs bared in the winter winds, backed into a corner with nothing left to lose. It would be nice to have some friends though. I wonder how Vian's doing talking to that orc. Would he, the orc that is, be willing to act as a messenger back to Clan Glacierheart? The Westmarchers and the Captain are willing to sit down and talk in good faith at least, if Clan Glacierheart is willing to do the same.

Shamans Records (in captivity)

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

Shaman Koroc the Singer of Clan Glaicerheart recording

Clan Ironbark does keep records of their own, and their Record-keeper, Chronicler Vian he calls himself, has asked me about how to go about making a clan-song from them. When I told him that I would need to read the records to know if it was possible for clan-song to be make, so see if there were deeds worth singing of, he was more than happy to share them.

To any who reads these Records, remember Clan Ironbark well. They have stood tall and conquered where others have fallen. Their name is known down the generations, counting back all the way to before the Seminal War. Clan Ironbark fought in it, on both sides. They were there at Hawthorn, at Brambles, at the Stair of Tears, at Charm, on the Whispering Plains, and the Gravelands at the end of things.

My hands tremble to hold the Records that detail those campaigns. To hold the un-sung memories of those times and to be asked to help shape the clan-song of them... I cannot do this alone. I will need the help of other Chroniclers and Shamans, of the Gods, and of the Fey keepers of the land. Such a clan-song must echo down the ages, lest we forget what should never be lost.

But there is one Record book that is older still. Yes, older than the Seminal War. Half of it is writ in Elvish, but the other half... I know the marks upon those pages, though I have never heard them spoken aloud. How could I not, when I read them every time I cast the runes? Old Tongue, the language of Shamans of old, not spoken aloud since the Seminal War. If only there was one who knew how those runes would sound spoken aloud...

But that is a dream too distant, a hope too far. For now, I must think of how to bring Clan Glacierheart to the Gathering, that Clans Ironbark, Glacierheart, and Westmarch can end this blood feud before it begins. Alone, we will not stand a snowflake's chance in summer against Clans Sapphire, Ruby, and Opal. Together, we would have the numbers, the food, and the defenses needed to stand our ground. Three Clans against three Clans... the snow would run red with blood before the war ended. But I feel the same bared-fang spirit here that I did in the home of Clan Glacierheart. Reading the Records of Clan Ironbark, I have found a word for it: Nationalism. It is the strong support of one's land and people, particularly against those that would enslave you. It is the fury needed to stand, to say to the world 'we are as one', and make it true.

Sapphire has not the slightest clue in this world or the next what creature they have backed into the brambles. And now they are following it in with nothing but a knife, expecting to finish a dying animal. Instead, they will find fangs ready to tear their throat out.