Traveling for almost a whole moon, searching for some source of some sickness within a care. The winds have been flying strong, but it’s been all but uneventful. My new brothers have proven an interesting enough lot to travel with. Theres the dwarf, the elf and my half-kinsman. The dwarf, she claims to be the royal kin, and who am I to say she isnt? after all, I am a windling, who claims orcish blood. The elf intrests me. The elves I’ve met before are all vey slow to grasp the ways of the winds, but this one is different. He does not ride them, or talk with them, like me or my kinsmen, but the wind is with him. His arrows fly true and painful and although I would never disgrace brother with such forms of combat, it suits him well. Then my half-kinsmen. The other orc, Shurgfal, another interest to me. He has powerful blood and body, but he speaks to the wind, and makes it his servant. I respect the power, but is magic not an elders art? never-the-less I cannot disregard the power he wields.
When we got to the river, intending to sail to our destination, we were foiled. or they were, there is no tear in my wings about flying there. The surface of the serpant was covered with a taint from nowhere. We stayed the night in one of the taverns, and set out in the morning. The path we traveled was overflown with the serpants swollen belly. The harbor masters son must have satisfied its hunger, the poor soul. Now we found some slavers old hideout… however, there was no slavers to be found. however the hidden strog hold was hiding ravenous little rattling creatures! the poor souls stood no chance between the elf and me, but there was nothing really to sing a song of.