Oact, Tressa 16, 2031
We started the first leg of our journey from the frontier town of Mo'Karr, two hundred miles southeast towards our goal. The fact that the town is mostly inhabited by goblinoids and orc folk still boggles my mind. What's even more puzzling is that they are able to function as an actual society. Before this, one would automatically think that Orcs are unwilling to cooperate due to their brash and unruly nature. But here we are, living in a somewhat symbiotic relationship with goblins. Could it be due to their shared desire for chaos? Nevertheless, it made me reexamine my biases towards other races. Unfortunately, my colleagues do not share this sentiment. Maybe after this expedition, I'll make a research paper on
Gobakki and
Orkinn society and their parallels to our own.
A couple of months prior, the History Division of the Progress Guild has made an important discovery. A few rock samples retrieved from the desert contained chunks of a mysterious mineral similar to
Dowar carbonate but twice as dense. This new data further solidified the theory that our common ancestors, which we named the
Genitorids, came from the skies in arks of fire and steel. Of course, for every discovery comes a few skeptics in the intellectual community, which gave rise to the race to search for the Arks. I was the first of the few teams to venture out into the hot winds of the desert. I couldn't pass the opportunity to explore new worlds should it arise. If anything, it would provide me a welcoming change of scenery from the musty old tomes of my study. Well, that and the fact that people can take me seriously if I get to provide hard evidence of the Arks.
Oact, Guarth 8, 2031
It has been four weeks since we first departed from our starting point. I see nothing but dust and sand for miles and miles in all directions, with no end in sight. To be frank, I miss the cot I slept the lodge back in Mo'Karr. Sure, the padding's filled with hay which prickled my back all night, but it's better than the hard, sandy ground I am obligated to lay on whenever we set up camp. What passes for comfort in the form of my bedroll helped little in that regard.
While the journey has been arduous, it was anything but fruitless. Our biologist found interesting finds partly hidden within the dunes, one of which is the Docila Sandcrab that nearly snapped off her finger, another is the Duundraak, with its characteristic "wings" helping it slide across the sand. I was glad to be able to witness these specimens up close, and the experience helped in fuelling my excitement when we get to see the Arks firsthand.
Donn, Guarth 18, 2031
We had a run-in with an Orkkin warband. I think they were on the way to a rival tribe's settlement when they spotted our team. The biggest of them (their leader, I assume) let loose a fearsome roar as he ordered his grunts to pursue us. As our team rode to escape them, I assured myself that we will not die today. We will not be marching out along the hot sands of this gods-forsaken place only to be thwarted by bloodthirsty marauders who thought us fitting to be skewered in front of their huts, not when there's an archeological site to be uncovered on the other side of the desert. But just when I thought we're done for, the ground erupted in front of us, and from the geyser of sand rose a Giant Dustwyrm!
Amid the chaos, I was awestruck. I had seen them in the pages of biology books, but I never thought I would see one up close! It was terrifying and majestic at the same time. Its floating serpentine form was around a hundred feet at least. And the sound it makes, a ghastly screech akin to a mighty hurricane, commands fear to those who listen. That, luckily, includes the warband previously giving chase, their attention now towards the Dustwyrm as it circles us. Our team then swiftly escaped both the warband and the Dustwyrm, using the latter as a distraction as the Orcs chucked spears at the creature. I thanked whatever god awoke the wyrm to deter our pursuers, as well as letting me and my team live to witness such a spectacle.
Quar, Guarth 4, 2031
It's been a while since the Dustwyrm incident, and we continued our trek towards what we believe is the final resting place of the fabled Arks. Or, what I believed it was, according to several members of my team. The length of the expedition has taken its toll on us, and some of my colleagues joining me on this trip are beginning to wonder if the expedition will be worth it, if we will see the Arks that were supposed to be in this desert. I have to be strong, to keep reminding them that we have the evidence (the minerals I've mentioned in an earlier entry) to back this theory up, and if we quit now, we would not be able to know if it will be worth it.
But our astronomer and resident navigator, Hurghel, was having none of this. He told me I was delusional, that I was pushing it way too much, and that I only started this expedition so I could get my name up in lights. I couldn't say it to him, but I think he's right, but that's not what started my doubts. It was that, deep in the back of my mind, I was starting to think the same, long before I planned the trip. For the longest time, I dismissed those thoughts, like how I dismissed the skeptics back home. It only took me this long to finally realize that my doubts were right. But there's something else. Even though I think the journey would turn out fruitless, there's still that glimmer of hope that we would eventually find the Arks, or at least a part of them that will prove that they're real. And if my colleagues would abandon me in my quest, then so be it. I will not hold it against them if they did.
Out of the sixteen people that joined me in the search, eleven of them went home that day. I wouldn't worry about them; they have more than enough rations to last the return trip.
Trie, Aesti 19, 2031
We have arrived at the proposed crash site of the Arks, only to be greeted by an entire expanse of nothing. Nothing, save for a few crumbling rocks of little to no value. It's at this point that, in this place, at this time of day, with the hot noonday sun beating down on us, I broke into a raging fit. My skeptics are right! Hurghel was right! My greatest fears have been realized! There are no Arks! It's all just a hoax! I kicked a rather huge chunk of sandstone to vent out my anger. Luckily the sharp pain I received snapped me out of my fury. Even with my tough leather boots, I could've sworn I broke a few toes from that sandstone. I was hoping that that rock itself would break and help me release the stress I took from this journey.
But it didn't.
I kicked the sandstone with my other foot, the bottom of my boot slamming against it.
Still nothing.
I called out for my team's geologist, Brenha (one of the few that stayed behind) to examine the unusually tough sandstone. He determined that the rock should crumble because there's not enough pressure to harden it. He dusted off the flat surface of the stone to reveal a slightly darker rock with small indentations. I looked at them more closely, but it's a bit hard to make out. One thing for sure, I must've been seeing things because there's no way those would look like Genitorid writing—
It is Genitorid writing!
It's a bit blurry from the dust and the sediment of that stone, but I can see a few letters which look too soft and curved to be Dowar runes, too thick and solid to be Elfin script, and too complicated to be Human letters. In other words, an amalgamation of Dowar, Elfin, and Human script. From what I can gather from the composition of the stone to the letters engraved, this two-foot long slab of rock is an honest-to-goodness piece of a Genitorid Ark!
After a few hours of carefully removing the 400-pound slab from the ground and loading it on our pack beast, we set our sights back to civilization with smiles on our faces and triumph in our hearts. It was a small triumph, but we welcomed it.
There are no Arks, but this will more than suffice.
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