21^st of Lowharvest

I arrived in Tristan yesterday and almost immediately began fighting with my father.  It seems that my relationship with my father is one that that remains unchanged in this future.  I should probably take comfort in that but I mostly find it annoying.  He read my… the other Mort’s journals after he died and I guess he’s decided he has a bone to pick with me.

We brought Sera and Valthermas with us on our journey in the hope that getting them away from Phoenix would lessen the influence of the Lumpies on them.  So far it seems to have had no effect.

It seems that Azeroth has learned of my return and is anxiously looking for something he believes I have hidden here.  No sooner had I arrived in Tristan than a Varu searched and disturbed the graves of the dead Mort and Vance and then attacked my father at the Aldburke.   A citywide manhunt to find the being responsible turned up an innocent Varu which the city guard seemed perfectly happy to blame and torture anyway.

I’m doing what I can, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to save him.  In frustration I finally went to The Merchant’s Last to get a drink where I found Pete the Prophet waiting for me.  I was annoyed at first but then he pulled out a flask of very fine liquor and offered me a drink.  What happened next was unusually enlightening.

No sooner had had quaffed the drink when I was overcome with a vision of the past.  It seems that Pete himself was once a charmed vassal of the Northern Lumpies and had nearly destroyed the watchtowers that protect our continent from invasion by the rabid armies of the North.  It was only through the intervention of a “council of mages” that his mind was freed.  In consequence for his actions he was doomed repair the destroyed watchtowers and forever serve as a guardian of Aerith.

I learned a couple of very important things from the vision.  First, the Lumpies in Phoenix are the same Lumpies that once controlled Pete, thousands of years ago.  They are still trying to invade Aerith.  Second, the only place I can free Buflief and the other from there influence is near the watchtowers themselves, which exist on the Northern continent.  Last, was a brand on my arm that contains that keys rituals and pass phrases I will need to pass the towers unmolested.

29^th of Lowharvest, 1979 FG

Let me state in advance that the next few entries were written after the fact to the best of my recollection.  The circumstance in which they occured were not such that I could write anything during the events themselves.

Much to my relief, Crespin parted ways with us on the way back from Redcliffe.  The scribes and minstrels that accompanied his retinue were already composing the exaggerated epic tales of his victory over the Varu there.   With Crespin gone, the rest of us made our way to the Tomb of the Snow Witch.

The place was much as we remembered it, however when we descended into the tunnels beneath the tomb we encountered a remarkably civilized goblin awaiting us.  It seems that Pete has been at it again and the goblin was anxiously awaiting our arrival with grotesque refreshments and a plea for help.

According to the goblin, whose name is Gorphen, the leader of his former tribe (he has been exiled) has come into possession of the Heart of the Snow witch and is using it’s power to gate all over the Empire and conduct raids against human settlements.  Gorphen is rightfully afraid that this will bring down the wrath of men against his tribe who will wipe them out completely.

So, he has a plan.  In the time since Pete contacted him he has carefully prepared several alchemical elixirs that will transform the drinker into a goblin for a “long time”… he wasn’t specific about exactly how long.  He also prepared a different one for me that will transform me into an ogre that the tribe is familiar with, a creature named “Gorp”, who was sent out to find new tribes to join the high chief’s alliance.

He wants my companions to pose as a new tribe recruited by Gorp so that they can infiltrate and sieze the Heart without destroying Gorphen’s people.  Honestly, I think it sounds fun, but I can’t for the life of me think why Pete would be concerned about not destroying this clan of goblins.

We had little trouble infiltrating the clan and establishing our position in the pecking order by kicking a weaker tribe out of their cave near the kitchens.  My companions called themselves the Mankillers and Vance is their chief.  I’ve stayed around them long enough to make sure they are secure, but as Gorp I have a private cave in the high chiefs compound.  It’s cozy and nice and the real Gorp left a few goddies there including a very nice magical shortsword.

1^st of Highsummer, 1979 FG

We raided a human settlement today.  The goblins didn’t seem very concerned about actually killing the humans but were more interested in driving them off so they could loot the farms.  From the accents of the people I would guess we were somewhere in the Eastern Kingdoms.  The language has evolved since I was last there but the inflection is about the same, even after a thousand years.

There weren’t really any atrocities, just looting and a few deaths.  The humans were mostly allowed to retreat into the hills except a few unfortunates who were taken as slaves.  I’m thinking I need to look into that when we get back to the lair.

2^nd of Highsummer, 1979 FG

I tracked down the clan slavers this morning, a tribe called the Night Raiders.  The chief a grizzled vetran named “Kit” had about half a dozen recently captured human slaves, a couple children, a few girls and a dullard looking man.  They were dressed in crude skins, which makes sense in a way.  The goblins don’t seem to have any knowledge of weaving and they probably have better uses for the fabric their captured slaves came dressed in.

I knew I couldn’t save them all without casting suspicion on myself so I decided to buy just one.  Rescuing a child would probably be the noblest thing to do, but there are bound to be some assumptions about why I was buying a human slave, so it would have to be one of the girls.

Looking over the dull hopeless expressions on the faces of the three girls it took me only a moment to spot the spark of defiance and cunning in the eyes of one of them.  Surely she was the most likely to get herself in trouble if I didn’t buy her.  At least that’s what I told myself.  It didn’t hurt that she was also the prettiest.

I traded two good kitchen knives for the girl (loot from yesterday’s raid) and took her back to my cave.  She tells me her name is “Deja”, and she’s from the Principality of Thoris in the eastern Empire.  She’s a pretty little thing despite the grime that covers her, green eyes and white blond hair cut in the “long in front” style you get when someone chops a braid off with a knife… yeah, I’ve done that before.  I spotted her actual braid, along with several others hanging from Chief Kit’s belt.

I did my best to reassure her that she would not be harmed and then put her to work sewing a few items for me.  It seems that Gorp didn’t generally wear much beyond a loincloth and I’m sorely missing the pouches I used to use to carry around small items.  It’s as good a way as any to keep her occupied and productive.

Strangely, I’m enjoying my time as an ogre in the deep dark underground far more than I probably should.  After nearly a year of fighting wars in the past, and then, upon my return, being immediately thrust into the erudite and world-changing machinations in Phoenix, I haven’t had a real break in longer than I care to remember.

Here, in the underground as Gorp, I am liked and respected.  I have good food, even if it is raw, and sometimes slightly rotten meat, it tastes wonderful to my ogre palate, I have a cozy hole to hide and rest in and I have a pretty girl to curl up with when I want to forget about the world above.  Add in a few casks of drink and this may be the best vacation I’ve had since that weekend in Dagonport.