I have been told by my many colleagues that I should begin chronicling my ventures. This, of course, comes as no surprise to a humble naturalist/explorer such as myself. And so, to track my journeys across the wild and unruly lands of Jotunheim, I shall begin to scribe my thoughts and recollections in my downtime and at the end of each day.
As of now, I find myself writing this in the back of a carriage. My destination? Ivadoor… Do not mistake me; Ivadoor is a perfectly respectable place, with many of my misadventures having begun and ended within this ported city. Not to mention that they are at the forefront of airship construction, along with being the trailblazers for storm shielding technology. Elegantly combining ingenuity with practicality with their uses of Burninggems Fire Gems to power the ever-so-useful Storm Shieldings on airships, saving untold numbers of people from the treacherous hazards of the Ocean of Storms. No, my mood is dour for other reasons. In truth, my reasons are actually quite childish in nature, relating to my current assignment.
Of late, the aforementioned Burninggem has formally requested aid from the Giant Slayers concerning a certain fauna's increasing absence in recent times. Said fauna being the ever-so-important Lesser Lyndworms of the Burning Deserts of Ibrul, the sole producers of the valuable Fire Gems. As such, the Slayers have allotted this as a matter of top concern, what with Fire Gems fueling such contraptions as the Airships and Storm Shielding Devices that we depend on so. As such, it was decided that only one with an in-depth knowledge of Jotunheim's fauna could be selected for such an important assignment. Naturally, I was chosen. Unfortunately, now we have reached the crux of my current tribulation.
Due to the importance of this assignment, the Slayers have decided to pair me with some brute. Of which, I’m sure, is not but a dull-witted laggard, whose muscles outshine any gleam of wit and intelligence. More specifically, I imagine it to likely be the group of ogre mercenaries, “Duh Famly’s”. More specifically, the half ogre half minotaur “Bull Boys”, as the Slayers have seemed to favor as of late, in the absence of more experienced fighters. Mind, I am not opposed to the dullards; their strength and single-minded desire for violence have tended to save my hide more often than not (ignoring, of course, the eldest brother, Org-Dag. Who, as memory recalls, is more likely to rip one asunder afore ever heeding their words).
No, my trepidation comes from the simple fact that speed and care are paramount in this investigation. As each passing day is but another day closer to Burninggems remaining Fire Gem stock depleting. And with three brutish thugs, along with their terrifying eldest loose cannon of a brother skulking about, they shall draw all manner of attention and trouble, my reputation and travel time being the greatest of losses. Whatever the matter, I suppose rest for my weary soul would be a wise decision. As I fear I shall require all of my strength for the coming days.
I shall continue my writings at a later date.
Humber Dumblfeet, weary investigator.
Stein - 14th of Endux - 2,790 - Entry 2
I now write this in the corner of a tavern, awaiting my companion to finish his packing to make leave. In the meantime, I have made the decision to summarize the preceding events.
Upon my initial arrival within Ivadoor, I immediately made my way to the tavern the Slayers instructed me to meet my new companion. Now, I shall be the first to admit I dragged my feet, conversing with the locals and such. As a side note, I learned in these dealings that the shipwrights and deckhands have already begun to feel the Lyndworm's decline. Apparently, Fire Gem shipments are being delivered in much smaller quantities, with said shipments being already sparse; it has begun to strain all but the most well-established airships. And while it was despairing that I could not lend my aid to these poor people simply attempting to work, it did sharpen my resolve to hasten my investigation. And settled the pit of doubt regarding my new companion yet further…
Whatever the matter, I had soon found my way to the Stormy Crab tavern. Now imagine my surprise as I entered and discovered what I assumed to be my half-ogre bodyguard's head nestled firmly in a headlock by the flexing muscles of a large blue tortle!! As I stared in awe, mouth agape, I witnessed this strange tattooed tortle lift the half-ogre with a hearty bellow before slamming him powerfully onto the nearby table. Soon knocked to my senses, I hastened to step betwixt the two ruffians, shouting a commanding “STOP!”. Whether the tortle heeded my order, or perhaps simply surprised by my boldness, he stopped in his tracks blinking.
Seizing the moment, I rushed to who I assumed to be my companion “Gunk,” as I was informed his name was. Now, for the second time that night, I must admit that my face contorted into one of shock and confusion as I heard the tortle bellow a laugh at hearing me call the half-ogre’s name. Or rather, as I would soon learn, as I called the TORTLES name!!! Indeed, my companion was none other than he!!
Ever adaptable, however, I soon realized the predicament I and this Gunk were in. If I wished for our journey to have any speed, then I would have to soothe over whatever his and the half-ogre's argument was, lest I wish to spend the night paying bail for my guild-assigned fellow. So slipping on my Belt of Dwarven Kind, a gift from the dwarven king of Varn Dolarr, I began to profusely apologize on my compatriot's behalf to the half-ogre. And before he could size me up, I took advantage of his simple nature by challenging the brute in a contest of drinking! Of course, my small halfling frame gave doubt I could partake in such a game; I alleviated any concerns with the promise of gold upon my defeat.
Now, I shall be the first and last to admit the beast would have beaten not only myself but every habitual taphouse drinker below the table and then some. Unfortunately for the brute, however, he faced none other than Humber Dumblfeet!! The very same Halfling who drank the Varnian mountain king himself to a stupor! And paired with my Belt of Dwarven Kind, my victory was all but guaranteed. Of course, even I am susceptible to wooziness after 46 drinks and could hardly begin introductions in such a state. Luckily, I had a special tincture prepared for if such a moment had occurred, learning my lesson in Varn Dolarr.
After swigging the bitter liquid, I soon found my senses returned and introduced myself to the Tortle. Although I am still unsure of how much he heard over his own guffaws, claiming me to be the “silliest feller he’d ever met.” Unsure how to respond, I ignored him and simply confirmed he was indeed Gunk, the one I was to meet with. As he confirmed this, we bid the half-ogre farewell, who was a surprisingly good sport on the whole matter, and sat down for proper introductions. As we conversed, it was then that I had time to give this “Gunk” a proper look over.
A hulking mound of shell and muscle, he bore an intricately styled tattoo across his chest and arms. But I was initially taken more aback by his physical similarities to a Dragon Turtle. More specifically, his head and spiked shell shared these similarities, most notably with the protruding horns atop his head. And although I was unsurprised to see yet another Tortle that he had no armor, I was more surprised by the keratinized natural “armor” that covered his forearms and legs.
Finally, I made note of his highly unusual equipment. Draped across his neck and waist was some kind of thick rope, with carvings and teeth hanging from the former. As for the latter, apart from the two rune-engraved axes hanging at the sides, I was intrigued by the ukulele and shell tied at his front. Upon my asking of which, I was told he the conch shell is actually a horn. Additionally, while the ukulele is for his own entertainment, the conch is to alert foes… Perhaps the Slayers really did send me not but a brutish dullard…
Whatever the case, I now must cease my writings, as I can hear Gunk's heavy footfalls approaching. Oh by the gods, and it seems he has some cloth-wrapped thing with him…
I shall continue my writings at a later date.
Humber Dumblfeet, weary naturalist.
Stein - 14th of Endux - 2,790 - Entry 3
I can hardly believe it myself, but I write this entry aboard the airship of Ogres! At the moment they and Gunk dine, or perhaps “feast” is a more apt term, in the mess hall. A truly massive room, I would hazard a guess it composes 2/3rds of an already massive airship! Although, I suppose it is only logical. The last thing a carefully balanced and well-maintained machine needs is a group of 10-foot-tall children throwing tummy tantrums. As a matter of fact, as I shall reveal soon, one would be correct in assuming them incapable of maintaining such a ship.
Whatever the matter, I feel I must begin with explanations for this truly bizarre turn of events.
After introductions were made with Gunk, he had begun to explain the nature of a peculiar item he had wrapped in cloth but was thoroughly interrupted by none other than the very half-ogre I had just beaten in a drinking contest, along with three full-blooded ogres. Fearing retribution, I hastily approached to ease the situation, only to find myself in a one-armed bear hug, as one of the brutes chortled with delight. Apparently the half-ogre, whose name I learned to be Brawk, had enlightened his fellows as to my victory. A story, as I was emphatically told, delighted them greatly.
One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were sitting at a large dining table, surrounded by ogres from Duh Famly! And, after some light exchanging of gold, I and Gunk have secured passage to Pendle Harbor!!
Once more, even I am astounded by my own luck and guile. Now, however, I fear I grow restless… As twilight has approached, the sky remarkably clear for the Ocean of Storms, a quiet does not descend upon this vessel. No, I fear silence shall be missed this night, what with Gunk and Duh Famly chortling their delights and shouting throughout the night. And thusly, this brings us to the most fascinating discovery of the night!
As one can imagine, the smells and noises that emanate from the dining hall prevented all but the most sound of sleepers. And so, unable to rest, I instead settled for wandering the deck of the ship. Once more, I found myself baffled by how well maintained the airship was. Although this is the first time I have been aboard an Ogre ship, my assumption would be that they are incapable of maintaining anything to any noteworthy degree. This was when I stumbled into Morus! A Tiefling of a purple hue, he introduced himself as both the ship's unofficial captain and owner!!
As he would elaborate on, he maintains the quality of the ship and correctly pilots it in exchange for Duh Famly providing lodgings, an airship, and ample pay. And while I’m sure Gunk was having his fun bantering with the ogres, I myself found Morus a far more welcomed companion. As a matter of fact, upon my request, he will be indulging me with a set of tales surrounding the Ocean of Storms after his duties are complete. In fact, my next entry shall consist of these tales in their entirety. As a matter of fact, I believe I hear him approaching now.
