Day 1. The Thunderlords have begun their seasonal migration. Should they turn toward our lands, runners will relay this journal to the chieftain.
Day 3. Our scouting party was captured in a canyon ambush by the Warmaul ogres. Det'rak and Kelorr are dead, and Pettra is surely to follow. The rest of us have been hauled to the lower hold of a huge ogre vessel loaded with slaves from every tribe I've heard of, and some I have not. I have managed to hide this journal from the ogres for now.
Day 8. Pettra held on longer than we expected. The ogres dragged his body out of the hold and fed him to their foul boars. Malaise is starting to spread among the remaining slaves. We must act soon or we will be broken before we arrive wherever it is the ogres are taking us.
Day 11. Though we are outnumbered I have managed to convince at least a dozen other orcs to attempt to take the boat tonight. Telmek has found a length of chain that he believes we can use to quietly kill the overnight guard before attempting to rush the deck.
Day 12. The escape did not work. The ogres are simply too strong and too numerous. Several slaves were killed in the attempt, and those who survived had our knees broken. My fighting days are over. I will be lucky to walk again someday.
Day 19. Land has been sighted. I must abandon this journal now or it will surely be taken. Should this journal find its way home - Palleae, I love you.