The book of Murin

[slipperhero]

This journal has seen its best days long ago. The cover is made out of leather, most likely boar or wild pig, and bears no markings. The pages are rough and there is a faint smell of ale, almost as if it has been soaked in it once upon a time. Inside the covers the pages are filled with dots and lines of different inks and charcoals. Seems like someone has tested a large variety of writing tools.

[slipperhero]

Today has been an interesting day.
It all started out in Hlint where I met a bunch of humans and kinsmen who was on their way to the iron mine in Haven. Apparently the mines was invaded by ogres some time ago and the fellas over in the castle was more than happy that such a large force had showed up to help cleanse the mines.
Fenrir, Rolf and Skarp showed me the different tunnels and where there is still iron deposits that can be salvaged. Since the mines are vast and hold many places where the ogres could ambush us Fenrir showed me a few tricks and tactics that I never learned in the guard.
We finally made it to the large cavern at the bottom where the ogres had set up camp and a fierce battle took place. The strangest part was the pale ogres who slipped out of sight and appeared in a cloud of pure cold that made me shiver to the core. I did not know that the ogres had the ability to learn how to manipulate the weave for their own purposes.
Seems I learn something new everyday, and that mistake is something I will not make again.

[slipperhero]

Murin gulps down mouthful of ale and grabs his pen

The grey peaks are much like the Berhagen mountains. But there is no giants to ambush you. Instead, the hills are filled with ogres. Ogres, I hate them. I can not see what evil god created these monstrous creatures in the first place. They fill no function whatsoever. The good thing is they're not very organized.

Murin chuckles. "- Like they had the brains for it..."

I met up with kinsmen Fenrir and Kurgaz yesterday. And that axeidiot Bruenor Wildbeard took us out for a raid far up in the Grey Peaks. I always wondered what drives his kind. He was like a whirlwind of pure rage. The ogres never knew what hit them. And no matter how much they bashed on him, he just keeped on going.

I used all the tricks and tactics Fenrir showed me, but I make a lot of common mistakes. Fenrir gave me a few more pointers after I got a good bash right in the head by a straggling ogre.

Murin closes the book and finishes his ale. "- Oi, Barkeep! Another ale iffen ye be so kind, lad!"