Lord Ochen Shagari's War Journal

Thirtieth of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

On this day, the Thirtieth of September, in the Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the end of the Seminal War, I have been appointed as the General of the combined armies of Sapphire, Ruby, and Opal by the Council of the Jeweled Cities and tasked with crushing the Westmarch rebels and driving the orc Clans back into the Glacierheart mountains. Such an undertaking can only be entrusted to one of my bearing and noble bloodline, for any lesser man would falter and fail to see it through.

The plans that have brought this coalition together have been accelerated. The whispers placed this campaign as a springtime event, that we would be marching through melting snow to destroy starved orc clans and suppress restless humans. It was to be an easy undertaking. But then the mercenaries, instead of blindly playing their part and dying by the dozen trying to fend off orcish raiders, broke their word. Ironbark Company, as they call themselves, has sided with the Westmarch rebels against their own oaths. I expected such treachery from base-born men and half-breeds, so I cannot say that it surprises me overmuch. The Council put too much faith in their record, despite my warnings to the contrary.

It will still be an easy campaign, a short and victorious 'war' that will only serve to strengthen Sapphire's position as first among the Jeweled Cities. The Westmarch rebels could only count seven hundred and fifty militia, if they all actually show up for the muster and don't desert when faced by proper soldiers. Ironbark counted only a thousand men, half of them fresh-faced recruits, and have reported over three hundred losses before breaking their oaths. By now, they must be down to only five hundred men, if that. My five-thousand strong army will bury them with discipline and steel. The orc Clans may prove to be more difficult to dislodge, if only because my men's arms will be tired from slaughtering so many of them. They will break and flee when the tide of battle turns against them, if they even bother to take the field at all.

I could wish for more magical support, but it should not be needed. The Guild charges far too much for a Battle Caster, and even more for a proper War Caster. I have advised the Council in the past to think of breaking the Guild's monopoly on spellcasters in the Jeweled Cities, but they always demure, claiming that it is unwise to provoke the Guild, that they would withdraw all support from the Jeweled Cities. Had we mages of our own, that would not matter. I could reach out to Lady SiDabolo, but I expect that any approach would be met by silence at best, so it is not worth my time.

We will spend the winter in the Westmarch Border Fort, then press on with the arrival of spring into the Glacierhearts themselves. That will be a longer campaign, if only because the terrain will favor the defender so heavily. By then the Emerald and Ebony contingents should be to hand as reinforcements. They should not be needed, but I will grant them the 'honor' of taking point and suffering the inevitable casualties of springing the orc's initial ambushes. Come next summer, we will be marching home again in glory.

Shaman's Records

Seventh of October, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

Shaman Koroc the Singer of clan Glacierheart recording.

It is good to write in the Records proper once more. Better still was seeing that Shaman Imitate Mul the Feisty had kept them so well in my absence. Inserting my work will require rewriting that particular section of the Records into a new volume. It is a protracted task, but not an overly difficult one. Aris is helping her, as much as Mul allows that is, and his handwriting is getting better.

My translation efforts on the Records of Innoch are going well, but little of what is written makes sense. It does not read like a Record, not like a person would speak. Instead, it feels more like a part of Clan-song. I will have to keep translating, and hope I come across something else, something more. A shame that I can not hear these Clan-songs, if that is what they are, sung aloud in the original Old Tongue. That would be something to hear indeed. Other sections read like rituals, though I am hesitant to even contemplate attempting them without knowing their components or outcomes. Was Innoch a spell-caster as well as a Chronicler, or was he picked as the Chronicler because he was a spell-caster? That question may never be answered.

The other non-warriors are taking the move to the mountains in stride. The first wave arrived yesterday and are already working to put up houses fit to stand the winter. Craftorcs are working with them, teaching and learning in turn. There is plenty of lumber to go around, and enough space to build in. Not an excessive amount of either, things will be a bit cramped, but not so little space as to leave people sleeping on top of each other. The food is also being moved as quickly as winter tight places to store it can be found. The hunters are working extra hard bringing in meat to be dried before the herds migrate away for the winter. Grains, roots, and some vegetables are being placed in hastily dug root cellars. There looks to be enough for all, baring excessive spoilage.

I did take time to read through Mul's entries into the Records. Her entries are a tad bit more formal then is the norm, but she does make sure that a reader always knows who is being written about. I wish I could have seen the sky lights she wrote of. Perhaps they will appear again?

Aris Cretu's journal

Seventh of October, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

Finally, I have time to write in my journal again. Chronicler Vian, Old Leon, and Shaman Koroc have been keeping me busy, helping with this, carrying that, and in every scrap of spare time writing and writing and writing to improve my penmanship. I do admit that I can tell the difference between this entry and my previous one, so all of the cramps and mindless copying have been of use. I guess. If one looks at it in the right light. With a lazy eye.

No use crying over the past however. I am eager to read Shaman Koroc's translations of Innoch's Logs. He keeps muttering about them not making any sense, as if they read like a song. Perhaps they match up to the songs that Lady SiDabolo taught me to sing? I know the words, but have never seen them written... That would be a stretch too far however.

Shaman Initiate Mul is well named. She is Feisty indeed, and fiery-haired to boot. She does spend quite a bit of time staring at the sky. I wonder what she sees out there. Perhaps she does just like staring at the stars? I guess the only way to find out is to ask her, and hope she doesn't throw a shoe at my head again. I really need to learn orcish, instead of relying on common and hoping she understands.

I hope Tam is doing ok. I haven't seen much of her since being sent up here with Shaman Koroc. Sgt. Gork too, of course. I can only hope that Fort Westmarch can hold out when Sapphire shows up in seven weeks. If they can hold out until the snow starts falling, then we win. Sapphire will be forced to retreat without food or proper shelter. They might decide to just burn everything when they leave, which would be bad, I guess. Ah well, no use wondering over the future when the present is so complicated.

Addendum:

I was able to sneak a peek at Shaman Koroc's translation efforts. I do recognize some of the lyrics! I knew Lady SiDabolo was teaching me to sing in the Old Tongue, or Primordial as she insisted on calling it, but I never thought that I would get to learn how to read it! I'll have to bring it up with Koroc in the morning.