Day Hundred and Sixty-Five

Another day, another batch of wounded. Five got hit in a patrol down by Andorhal, the only one who's regained consciousness since says they were hit by the undead. No word yet on whether it was the scourge or the forsaken.
They claim to honor the neutrality we held in icecrown, but simply put I don't trust them anymore. I don't think anyone really does, the Orcs sent troops to keep an eye on them. Not just the Kor'Kron that came last year to guard the city, generals and warlords from Ogrimmar with foot soldiers. And a few nobles in Stormwind have sponsored an expedition to retake Andorhal, they sent a messenger to parlay with the Highlord when they first arrived. I haven't seen their base for myself, but I'm told they're fortifyingthe bridges and have brought siege weapons. With the Forsaken outpost on the other side of town in the granaries and what used to be the mill district growing in number and defenses, conflict seems inevitable.

Not to sound old, but I remember when this was all farmland, far as the eye could see.

Day Hundred and Sixty-Four

Wow! I thought I'd lost this thing. So much has happened since Northrend, visit to the trolls and the Wildhammer, arrival back in the plaguelands; it's amazing to see the progress we've made on the land.

I've been working with some of the Druids. They're...odd. Vegetarian, all focused on nature, and their moon goddess I don't like them much. Can't deny their effectiveness though, I've seen some of them turn a seed into a sapling in a matter of days. And some of the oldest trees of the forest, the ones that survived the plague anyways, are being restored. Even the grass is coming back in parts.

Not to say it's all their doing. The druid's magic has a hard time taking hold on unholy ground, and the spirits of the shaman must give their blessings for the changes to hold. But the real work is still being done by the Argent paladins and priests. The scourge, what little is left of it anyways, is still active to the South and the East. Casualties aren't as high as they used to be, but with so many of the mercenary forces and adventurers returned to their homes in the face of war between the Alliance and the Horde our numbers are nearly crippled. It's almost imposible to make the progress we were a month ago, and every fallen soldier is a greater loss than ever before.
Which makes me valuable enough to be given a proper lab, and all the medical supplies I could ever dream of. Sadly, I have no time to use the lab. Even during the night there are wounded who must be attended to, and proper surgeons like myself are few and far between. Especially since the Alliance and Horde need all of theirs, and what few there are besides are helping their own factions.
Makes a girl feel special, even if she is one of like three dead people in the entire Argent Dawn.

Day hundred and twenty two; Outside Aerie peak

Trust Laud to carry a map.

Safe, sound, and warm for the first time in a week. The Dwarves still won't let her in town, bt they agreed to let us fly to Light's Hope tomorrow. So we'll be back on track.


She won't talk about it. I don't think it went well. I'd go so far as to say it went horribly, she refuses to even touch her alchemy equipment. I asked Gidge and she just shrugged and said she'd ask about it. I hope its nothing too bad.

Day Hundred and Twenty

Blood, slime, and bits of troll everywhere.


Upside is we found Laud, downside is she's in the process of knitting a troll back together and I'm afraid to get within ten feet of her. That needle is moving so damn fast I think she'd attach me to him without even noticing.

I'll figure out what happened tomorrow. Blood loss makes you sleepy.



Oh and Gidge is fine; she's watching Laud intently. I don't know what they're talking about, but it has to do with joints and biological design structuring.
Whatever that is.

Day Hundred and Nineteen, I still don't know

The usual, Gidge angry, trolls, trees, where's Laud? Trees, and the local slimes are annoying.


It's no wonder the trolls are half mad, living in a place like this all your life would make you go nuts.

Day Hundred and Eighteen, Hinterlands, there are some troll ruins over there

Gidge must be bored, she's being snide now. Apparently the silent treatment wasn't bothering me enough for her liking.

Killed a slime today. It contained twenty silver and what would appear to be a map. Sadly, the map is a tourist map of Stratholme. It'll come in handy when we catch up with Laud and drag her there by her hair. Putting us through all this trouble, shouldn't have left in the first place, It's not like there's anything out here but trolls, trees, slimes, and trees.

Day hundred and Seventeen, location unconfirmable

Trees, trolls, and trees that's all there is out here. Gidge still isn't talking beyond 'are you gonna kill him or am I going to have to do all the work?'


I hate this place. Laud, if we ever find you I'm gonna kick your leg off for this.

Day Hundred and Sixteen, somewhere in the Hinterlands

In retrospect I should have bought a map, or hired a guide, or scouted the area, or something other than just walk into the wilderness with two weeks rations, my weapons and armor, and a fifty foot length of Dwarven rope. A tent, for example, might have been a good idea; a blanket wouldn't have been such a bad idea either.

I'm not alone mind you. Gidge is securely lounging in the hamock/tent half way up a tree. She used her fifty foot rope and her fancy engineer's cloak to get nice and cozy. She's still mad at me for not bringing a map, and refuses to build me one. I don't really blame her, it was pretty stupid on my part.


Laudren, wherever you are; stay still and we'll find you.
Then maybe you could show us all how to get home.

Day Hundred and Fifteen, still wildhammer stronghold

I bought supplies yesterday. If she's not back by 6am tomorrow I'm going after her. And since Gidge got her wake-e-matic auto-gong working this morning, much to this dismay of hung-over Dwarves everywhere, I'll actually know when that is.

Gidge says six in the morning is too late to go to sleep and not late enough for a drink. Must be a Dwarven saying, I've never caught her drinking in the whole twenty odd years I've known her.


Now this Ehrnsie girl of Laud's, seems like she could put away a good drink or two. And I've seen Laud down a few herself. Sounds like her Dad was more of a collector than a drinker, Rumor behind the counter is that the Thadsbrook Keep cellars were host to one of the finest collections of ale, mead, and wine outside of Ironforge. The value, so I'm told, was nearly half of the family's entire wealth.
Must have been quite the cellar, I'll have to ask Laud if we can go to her place.



Not like that. Although it seems like a good time to point out that I think I know what she was talking about when I asked her what she saw in the mirror while she was wearing that potent perfume of hers back in southshore. Must have some major self-image problems from growing up with that additude about her own looks. If I ever catch that girl I'm going to give her a piece of my mind.

Day hundred and Fourteen; wildhammer stronghold

Still not back; I've asked if anyone's heard from her. The Dwarves don't seem worried at all. Several of them actually laughed at the thought of her being in trouble.

Which brings up an interesting sidenote. Apparently Laudren's mother, Tania, spent a fair bit of time hunting with the Wildhammer's when she was younger. Garnered a fair reputation as an amazing cook and a steady hand with a hammer. It's mostly their respect for her that makes them as tolerant towards Laudren as they are. Some of the ones who actually hunted with Tania used to visit while Laudren was little, right up until the scourge came. They've had some..Gidge calls them interesting things, I just wonder how much of the goings on of her own household Laudren was actually aware of. Talking to her you'd think her mother was an angel and her father a saint. The first one is understandable, her mother died when she was only four, giving birth to a younger sister, the Ehrnsie she refrences in the journal's front page I assume.

But her father, Dwarves tend to be quite trustworthy and I doubt they'd lie about something they stand to gain nothing from. I'll not say more until I find a more direct source to talk to; I know that this 'Cellan' person was still alive two years ago. And odds are fairly good that if Gilneas remains as secure as it appears then Ehrnren is alive, and mother of a fair size brood I imagine. I'll try to talk to one or both of them before I tell Laudren any of this. She needs all the stability she can get.

Day Hundred and Thirteen, no location change

She's still away. Most of her trips aren't this long, I suppose the coast is a good distance away but it still isn't normal for her. If she's not back by Wednesday I'm going after her.

Now that we have regular mail service Gidge wrote back to her parents to make sure they knew she's still alive. I could care less what my mother thinks; but I have been trying to write a letter to Maddie's folks. They ought to know what happened. And since it was just Gidge and I, and I have seniority, I ought to be the one that tells them. It's been hard to relive, even after a year. I should have been there, I shouldn't have left her alone like that. There was no way she could have defended herself against that many of them, even in her best condition.
Gidge keeps telling me not to beat myself up over it. But it was my fault, I don't deserve to be forgiven for it. If it weren't for me she'd still be alive, safe at home or here with us. I had to go and let my feelings get in the way and she paid for it.

Crap, need to go get Gidge out of a barrel. She just hit on one of the Dwarves and she'll need help. Again.

Day Hundred and Eleven...er Twelve, still Wildhammer stronghold

Gidge finally managed to crack it. It seems like whoever enchanted this thing really didn't want people to get into it. I wonder who Laudren had doing her enchanting? This thing seems to only go back until she started her count, back when she first got to Northrend, but the pages go back years prior. But neither Gidge nor I has managed to extract any of the things recorded in them.


So the latest problem is that it was refusing to work when she gets more than about a hundred meters away. We managed to crack it, but it wasn't easy. And the Dwarves were laughing about it while we tried.


She's gone east to visit the Revantusk tribe along the coast. Some of the Wildhammers escorted her as far as the Highvale Lodge, and the rangers agreed, hesitantly, to escort her back when she returns. She's paying good money for what limited hospitality she's recieving, and it seems like some of the Dwarves here have previous dealings with her. One of the older hunters says that Laudren's got her mother's love of carefully ordered shelving, her bracelet, and her right jab. One of the younger, relatively speaking, Dwarf ladies mentioned she's got her father's hair. I take it that her family lived in the general area, and were quite popular with the Dwarven community.

Day hundred and ten, Wildhammer stronghold.

Technically outside of it, but about as close as I think they'll let Laud get. She's not trying to hide who she is with them, it takes more than love potions to fool a gryphon. It's not that the wildhammer's hate her, they're just wary of any undead. A few hunters actually brought a keg and some supplies out to us. They even brought desert, one of the Dwarves said his wife made it off an old recipe.


For some reason that made Laud cry. She's still crying, but she went out into the woods until she stops. She must have really liked pie.

Day hundred and Nine, just south of Durnholde

Alright, we're camped out tonight. Laudren's on guard, the Forsaken are strong in this area and she'll be the least likely to cause suspicion, this time. More importantly she's travelled the region before and knows the surroundings better than we do.
Also she doesn't sleep, ever.



And now the fun part. I went over to help Laud get away from Gidge last night. I open the door and find that Laudren has put Gidge in the dresser and is leaning against it to keep her from getting out. I ask her if she needs help, and she just smiles. Apparently during the whole crown chemical deal last spring she bought a lot of extra vials so she could figure out how they did it. She used a little bit of Troll voodoo to extend the effects and strengthen her own resistance to it. Apparently the side effects can be.. well, no one would have objected. A part of me wishes she hadn't taken as many precautions. She did let me sketch her though, twice. She wanted to keep a copy for herself. She also wanted to make sure we stopped off at what's left of her place on our way to Light's Hope. Probably just nostalgia.

Gidge is still a bit shaken. It was a powerful potion, and it's not often you find yourself face to face with the girl of you dreams; even if you know she's actually a rotting corpse.

Finally, Day Hundred and Eight; Southshore.

So it turns out that Laud knows more than just medicinal potions. She had us land just north of town and set up her Alchemy kit. How she got it all into that knapsack I don't know, magic probably.
Anyways, she gets out a half dozen vials and combines them in a rather ceremonial pattern. Right and while she was setting up her stuff she had Gidge and I settig out some Votive candles and a couple of Orcish skulls, must have been Orcish, they had those little piggy tusks of theirs. Again, cermonial patterning was quite obvious.

Then she recites something in Light knows what, not Demonic Gidge's brother was a warlock and he taught her enough that she can tell. Troll maybe, could have been Tauren for all I know.
Then she climbs into the cauldron.

Yea, she's quick like that; I almost got to her in time to stop her. I thought she'd disolved or something, but then she climbs back out all healthy looking. Clothes and all, not a bit of rot on her; that I could see anyways.

So we're in the inn now, nobody knows she's not alive. Do all undead know this stuff? And what was in those vials? Must be some pretty potent stuff, probably cost a fortune. ANd who knows how long this isgoing to last. She says we're going to leave the town early in the morning, but I don't know if she'll be back to dead by then or just quickly rotting.




It's all rather suspicious to me. But aside from the sheer oddity of this sort of magic, it puts her in a rather different light. She's...not half bad looking. If I didn't know better I'd probably buy her a few drinks and see how far it got me. I mean, I wouldn't because under that magic she's still dead and corpse-y, and that's just kind of stomach rending to think about. But if I didn't know that, I might try it. At least two of the guards have hit on her, I can't tell if she was blowing them off or just didn't pick up on it. If the former than she's an artist; if the later, she's blind, the second guard was pretty blunt.
She and Gidge are in their room. I'm actually a bit confused about that, Gidge has been giving Laud some...odd looks, to say the least. She's got this gleam in her eyes I haven't seen since before we joined the army. It was usuallywhen she met a particularly....

That easy? Really? I'd have... Genius, she really does know her craft. It's not a disguise, it's some sort of love potion. She figured out a way to make some sort of potion that causes her to appear as the most attractive thing to whoever..senses her; I don't know how it works exactly, but if she could brew it properly it would make a disguise unneeded. Provided there were no other undead around, or elementals, or...I don't know if demons feel love or not, but I bet they'd see through it.



Well in any case, at least now I know what the girl of my dreams looks like. I think I'll try and get her to let me sketch her before it wears off. I'm guessing that by now she'll need a reason to get away from Gidge anyways. That little tinkerer can be quite agressive when her intrests have been aroused.

Day hundred and seven, one day left on the ship.

Laudren is the soberest drunk I have ever met. She's been at it all day, apparently someone broke out a few kegs to celebrate our retrun to Alliance waters and she hasn't left the room since.
Where's she putting it all? It's like her whole body is just a second keg or something. It goes in and it just stays there. She's not even slurring her words, just downing mug after mug and continuing her convesations with increasingly loopy people.

I haven't told Gidge about the party, Doctor's orders are that she stays in her bed until we disembark. She'd hate to miss something like this.



Heck, I'd hate to be missing this. Goblins may be a rotten greedy bunch, but they know how to celebrate.

Because I don't like having my post count as 69, here's a short story

((Alright, so I saw Totalbiscuit's coverage of stonetalon and I remembered 'hey, I have a troll that lives in Malaka'Jin! How is he dealing with all the new company?' This is pretty much how he reacts.))

It was a good hunt. He had drawn the thunder beast's attention long enough for Tali to hit it from the side. The beast's hide and entrails would bring him a good price at market, and the meat would feed them both for weeks to come. The Tauren used large teams of hunters when they assaulted such a creature, so they could carry it all back. Natame had only Tali. The sinews of the beast's legs he had stretched out, and woven together into a net. The hide had been wrapped around the meat, which he had salted to preserve it. The more valuable organs and glands had been placed into jars, enchanted by the Witch Doctor to keep them pure. All these had been placed into a sort of sled made of the sinews and bones, and hitched up to stalwart Tali. He would not make good time, but he would make good profit and the Loa would see that he did not squander their blessing and would perhaps grant him further blessings; maybe even a family one day. Many Trolls mocked him for thinking the Loa would involve themselves in such mundane matters, but he knew that the loss of the Echo Isles was a judgement by the Loa for their infidelity. They had failed to give the Loa credit for all their blessings and so their blessings were lost.

"Come Tali, Ol' Natame knows ya burden and he will reward ya for it when we make it home."
The Raptor snorted cheerfully and started off at a steady walk. He stayed back slightly, Tali pulled the hunt but she was vulnerable to other beasts; spiders, other raptors, there were still grimtotem raiders in the hills that would not hesitate to attack a lone Troll and his harnessed raptor.
But not this time. It was a long and quiet walk up the mountain path to Malaka'Jin, which he now called home. But when he arrived he noticed something almost instantly.
Lots of Orcs, armored Orcs, unarmored Orcs, Orcs carrying a weapon, Orcs carrying two weapons, Orcs with guns, and Orcs with axes, there were even Orcs wielding magics.
And He thought he saw a Peon crying in one of the corners while a larger Orc hit him with what he could only assume was some sort of shoe-a-rang.

It took him a while to find someone he recognized, most of the Trolls had migrated towards the Witch Doctor's cave at the end of town.
"Hey mon, why dere be all dese Orcs here?"
"Dats what he jus' explained, 'choo stupid or someting?"
Natame grabbed the younger Troll by the dreads and pulled his head back.
"No, I jus' been working ya lettil runt. 'Choo could try it sometime, might teach ya a ting or three about respectin ya elders."
"Don hurt me mon!"
"Get outta here lettil one, dere be no place in dese mountains for da weak a spirit."
The runt ran off and Natame found himself face to face with the Witch Doctor.
"What 'choo be doin roughin up da little one?"
"He be callin me stupid, I taught him to respect his elder."

The two stood staring eachother down for several minutes before Natame finally went for his pack.
"I brought 'choo da gland like ya ask."
The two friends laughed at the crowd, still tense from the assumed conflict.
"Come Ol' Natame, walk wit me."

Natame flipped a few silver to one of the Witch Doctor's daughters and motioned for her to unload Tali's sled. The girl had dealt with her before and he knew she'd manage to avoid reaching Tali's bad side.
Jin'Zil stopped when they reached a little shrine just above the village. Halazzi, of the untamed spirit, was commemorated here. His chosen patron, and responsible for all the hunters of his tribe.
"I thought, maybe it would be best for ya to be with da ones dat keep ya safe. To make sure ya don' do anyting ya regret."
"Jin'Zil, why are dere so many Orcs here?"
"Word on da winds be dat Thrall be steppin down as warchief." The Witch Doctor put a hand to his shoulder to silence him, seeing Natame's displeasure. "Da Hellscream be ordering da Horde to war already, Vol'Jin opposes him."
"Da shadowhunter be a wise leader den, dere be noting to be gained from war so soon after da Lich King."
"Dere be no war yet. But dey be building strongholds in da mountains. Most of da Orcs will move further in, but some of dem be here to assure Garrosh dat we be workin for da Horde."
"Thrall may be wise, but to put such a beast over da Horde is madness."
"On dis we agree; but for now we cannot do a ting."

Natame sighed and knelt before Halazzi's shrine. "Loa, give dis ya servant da strength to accept da wisdom of da warchief. And da patience to deal wit his successor."
"'Choo be a good troll Natame, an I think as much a blessing to da Loa as blessed by dem. Come, Ora'Zil will be finished wit Tali. Maybe 'choo could tell her of one of 'choo hunts?" The witch doctor nudged the hunter, and the two walked back into town.

Day one hundred and six, two days left on this blasted craft

We're rounding Gilneas, I've got Whitefeather groomed and ready to go once we get into the Southshore waters. Laudren and Gidge agreed to accompany me. Laudren took a little coaxing, she'd wanted to see the Dwarves in Menethil. I get the impression she likes Dwarves, not in that sort of way, but as more of a respect thing.

Gidge just gave me one of her nods. She knows how I feel about Menethil. I feel bad bringing her, I know she'd like to see her parents again, but I'm glad she's coming anyways.



The two of them are still chatting. Apparently Laud's not bad with a pair of scissors, she managed to get Gidge's hair down to a rather neat bob. I'm impressed to say the least. It would appear that our doctor is quite versatile. Must have been a gypsy or something, most people don't learn more than one useful skill in their whole life and she's got dozens.

Day one hundred and five, three more days left at sea.

Gidge spent the whole day talking. She wanted to know if we were okay. She wanted to know what happened. She wanted to know who cured her and of what. And she wanted to know how to wear her hair now that it's brown, a color she apparently always wanted it to be.


She and Laudren are still talking about that last part. I never took Laudren for the sort of person who actually knew anything about girly stuff. I've never seen her do anything for her own appearance. For that matter, when did Gidge care?
It's really funny to think about, I mean the one has bits of dried herb in her hair and her skin is worn through on parts of her fore head and the other seems to wear grease as blush; and yet here they are talking about how to wear their hair and what colors they look best in.



Actually, it's kind of nice. We might have a lot of women in the group but we don't have many girls. If that makes any sense. I mean, even the female healers tend to be kind of tough after Northrend. But the two of them just seem to have forgotten it all and gotten out their makeup kits.

And yesterday I was worried she might be trying to kill us all. Either she's a mad genius or her work is the creepiest thing this side of the Maelstrom. It might be both.

Hundred and four days since first entry.

Gidge is still asleep, but she should be awake in a few more hours. She seems a lot better, and with what Laudren is calling 'minor side effects'.

Her hair turned brown. I suppose its not a huge difference, but I imagine Gidge will notice it rather quickly. Poor girl'll probably be shocked speechless.



Laudren is doing fine otherwise. She..um..collected a few samples from some of the patients on the ship. Vials of blood from the wounded, bits of hair and skin from the humans, one of the Goblins drowned in the storm below decks and the body just sort of dissapeared. I'd confront her, but I'm half afraid to find out what she's doing. She's brilliant, and nice, and even reasonably attractive for a dead person; but she can be pretty fierce when people question her motives and her methods.

At worst, I suppose I'll be killing an undead goblin or the ship blows up. It's goblins, if it goes unattended for a few hours that'll happen anyways.
At best? Now that's a scary thought.

Day hundred and thirty, sorry, hundred and three

Gidge is sleeping, quietly. The fever dropped off within hours and everything else seem to be correcting itself. She's gonna be okay.


Laudren yelled at me for not getting her sooner. Apparently she's done the same to the healers. It kind of established a pecking order really; Laudren being kind of the top medicinal authority in the group now. She's certainly got the expertise. She's just not very approachable, not that she isn't nice, just that she tends to take a lot of her knowledge as basic and makes it apparent what sort of healer you must be for not knowing it. I wouldn't say she bullies the healers, she just reminds them where healers stand in the medical community.

A lot lower than I'd have ever thought. You'd think a combat healer would need to be the best, but apparently just 'summoning your inner power', or whatever the hell magic is, is pretty easy compared to curing disease or rehabilitating ex-soldiers. Probably an issue of training too, she's spent years learning this stuff and most of them just learned a bit of restorative magic from a hunchbacked crone outside of town and refined it a bit as they fought in Northrend.

Day hundred and two, really early in the morning

Got a spare moment and I'm using it. Laudren has a very..involved way of brewing her potions. That or Alchemy is way more athletic than I'd ever realized. Maybe it's just something to do with the way she organizes her herbs, it seems like whatever she needs is on the opposite side of the room from what I've just gotten her.


The medicine should start working within hours, but she'l need to rest for a while. I have high hopes. I can't say much for Laudren though. She's in this wierd sort of trance almost. Like she can't see anything outside of curing Gidge. It kind of worries me.

still the hundred and first day

It's some exotic sort of fever. I think she called it a Scarlet fever. She handed me a book and told me to find out what I can while she 'meddles'. Apparently it's a particularly nasty sort of disease that killed hundreds of Scarlet's a few years ago. Gidge must have caught it while we were in New Hearthglen, probably from one of the ex-scarlets. From the looks of it it should have taken longer to get this bad, but for a Gnome the disease has less to infect and it escalated very quickly.

But it looks treatable, If Laudren has the herbs then she shoud be able to cure it rather easily. It'll be a few days before she recovers, but Gidge should be able to pull through.

hundred and one days.

Laudren's in her cabin, brewing something for Gidge. it's been really frantic, and I can't say for certain exactly what the illness is or how Laudren plans to cure it, only htat she does.


I hope she hurries. Gidge's is burning up, and her feverish utterances are loud enough for half the ship to hear.

The hundredth day

Gidge is really sick. The healers are at their wits end trying to figure out what to do. They're just medics, not one of them has any idea what's wrong with her.

I'm worried. She's been a friend since we were lit..young. Now that Mattie's gone she's best friend I have. I told her I'd do anything I could to keep her alive, and I meant it. But this isn't just a ghoul or a val'kyr, it's even more terrifying than an abomination. It's disease, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. All I can do is watch her die.



Laudren's fine, I probably ought to mention her since this is her journal anyways. She's back up on deck, I don't know how well undead senses work but she seems to enjoy the view at the very least. Probably nice after years spent in dank sewer cells and secret alchemy labs. I imagine just having sunlight at all is a nice change. She only comes up for a few minutes at a time, spends most of her time in her cabin experimenting with herbs to create potions and elixirs in order to..cure.
She's an apothecary, she must know a thing or two about diseases. And she was working as surgeon, not a medic. I bet she has formal training and medical expertise and she has who knows how much herbalistic skill. She can help Gidge, I'm sure she can!

Day Ninety-Nine, I hope

Went right trough a storm yesterday, damn goblins are nuts! We almost all made it, a couple of human soldiers insisted on staying on deck and wer washed over. They'll be mourned. Not or their minds of course, you'd have to be an idiot to have stayed on deck in that without your job requiring it.

Needless to say Gidge and Laudren are still sick, not that they'd have recovered by now anyways. Gidge seems to be actually ill, she's getting feverish. Been muttering about cogsprockets and gearspringers and lubricant; either she's dreaming of past lovers or future inventions. You never can tell with Gnomes.
Laudren's only seasick, and she's recovering quickly. By her own hand might I add. Something to do with the steadying qualities of tiger lily; I'd guess she's improvised a way to counteract the effects of the ship's rocking with one of her potions.

As for me, I forgot how much I hated the sea.

Day Ninety-Seven, it would seem

I'm on a boat.




Must be something about being undead, Laudren seems to be handling it fairly well. She claims she's never been on a boat before but she seems to be keeping it down pretty well. Nausea, obviously, and she seems kind of sick, but no vomiting.
She insists on staying on deck though, so it'll probably be a few days before she recovers.


Gidge isn't taking it well either. Little thing gave herself a headache trying to figure out how to improve the Goblin's steam engine. Added to the seasickness I don't think she even realized she had and I'd say it'll be a few days before she can leave her room. I'd feel worse for her, but it's funny to think that you could actually give yourself a headache just by thinking. Gnomes are so odd. I bet if I introduced her and Laud they'd spend hours trying to figure out how to properly organize their combined collections of tools and instruments.

Might not be such a bad idea, the two of them would probably get along pretty well.

Day Ninety-Six apparently

But of what I wonder? I still can't figure out why she started her counting from the first entry; wouldn't the date have been more appropriate?


We made a quick trip out to the Grizzly Hills yesterday. She managed to trick the trappers into thinking she was alive with some makeup, perfume, and long-clothing. If I hadn't known better I might have fallen for it. Took her hours to do though, and from the way things sounded it wasn't even worth the effort. She's asking about the plague, in a roundabout way though. SHe'll bring up the scourge and ask what it was like early on. And they'll tell her about all the people that died from the plague or how the Lich King tried to convince them to serve him. Then she'll wheel the conversation back towards the plague. I'm not sure what she's trying to find out exactly. But the Argents trust her, so I think it's unlikely she's trying to pull another Putress.
I can't help but worry though. After that atrocity it's hard to trust any undead, no matter how nice they may seem.


She's back in the Scarlet Archives now, taking some last notes. A Goblin steamship has arrived and Dalfors has asked us to join the forward units in the plaguelands. I get the impression we'll be docking in Menethil, but no one's said anything. I'm not looking forward to the homecoming. Maybe I can convince Laudren to disembak early and we can head to Chillwind via Southshore. I might even stop in and see the Wildhammers again. WIth the amount of attention she shows Whitefeather I imagine it would be a dream come true for her.

Day Ninety-Four by the looks of it.

Girl keeps herself busy. Met with some Taunka today, I can tell she doesn't like them. But it seems like their talks were productive, in spite of the hostility. I know she traded several potions for whatever they were telling her. I don't know what the value was, but I'd say they'll probably give them an advantage in future hunts or whatever they're doing now that the Lich King is dead. I know they serve the Horde now, but I'm not sure what they actually do for the Horde. I just hope they don't kill a lot of innocent people with those potions; it would kill her to know she was an accomplice to a massacre.

I still don't know how i feel about Laudren. She's nice, and if she weren't so dead she might actually be attractive. Not in a 'I'd do her' sort of way, more in a 'I could come home to that' sort of way. She's very skilled at what she does. I'm not entirely certain what she's doing half the time, but she always manages to find a way of telling me what she needs. Who knows, maybe she's actually a really bad Alchemist with fantastic communications skills and the ability to look like she knows what she's doing. Regardless, she's very passionate about it. Again, if she weren't so dead, it'd probably be kinda sexy to watch. If she were Mattie we'd never get anything done. But I suppose by now Mattie looks even more dead than Laudren does.

day? I suppose, guessing by her count, probably ninety-three

Damn this thing is secure. She's got it enchanted heavily and voice activated, I had to get Gidge to modify it so it'll respond to me at all.

We're in New Hearthglen waiting for the fleet. The Highlord has shifted his focus south, to the plaguelands. A lot of the surviving Scarlets have begrudgingly signed on with us, I think by now they've seen to much evidence of non-human's ability to fight to think them as worthless as they did before. A lot of them fought us anyways, but no longer. The remaining ships of the Scarlet Armada are being requisitioned now; we have a lot of men, but few sailors. I swore I'd never raise a sail again after I left home, and I'm holding to it no matter the need.

This journal's owner, Laudren, is reading through the Scarlet's medical logs. I don't know what she hopes to find, the Scarlets never kept prisoners long enough to attempt any treatment.
She met with a small band of Nerubians yesterday. Outside town of course, they may be alive but to most of us they're still the enemy. I don't know how much she learned from them, but it doesn't seem to be anything good.
She's been quieter since we left Dalaran. And the lack of proper booze around here isn't the only reason, something is on her mind. And she's been talking to the locals everywhere she goes, the witch doctors in Zul'Drak, the Nerubians here, Scarlet medical journals, a couple of the Tuskar even stopped by this morning to talk to her. It was probably nothing important, just a few trinkets and some hides they wanted to give her. It certainly cheered her up a bit, and she seemed to enjoy their company.

It's odd really, undead don't normally get happy. Or hopeful for that matter. She seems less traumatized than all the other ones I've met, almost not undead at all. I mean, physically she's clearly dead; she's got bones for fingers and I can see part of her skull when she brushes her hair back. But mentally, no hatred for the living, no angsty brooding, and only a hint of sadism and I think that comes more from being nobility and a more than slightly mad alchemist than from being undead. Only thing she seems to truly dislike is other undead, although she does seem to enjoy antagonizing the older Orcs every now and then.
She's an odd girl, but in a very nice way. I can't help but wonder what it is that makes her the way she is.

Recruiter

((Laudren has been to busy to notice the fact that her journal is missing. I'll add some of the thief's entries later; but for now here's a vignette from one of my other characters.))



"King Wrynn is calling all able bodied warriors of the Alliance to serve in his army. Step right up and join today."
"That's it? No enlistment bonus, no pitch abut seeing the world, and I assume that's what qualifies as patriotic these days. Get off that podium you sorry excuse for a soldier."

Cellan pulled herself up onto the small podium the Stormwind recruiters had set up in Theramore's market square. The young man standing on it just stepped aside in shock as she nudged him aside.

"Citizens of Theramore! We stand here buying and selling, making a living for ourselves. We are happy are we not?"
A few people nodded, a single yes rose from the throng in response.
"We are happy. But for how long? How long will we be happy here, when the heart of the Horde is but a few short days sail north? At any moment everything you have could be taken from you, your life ended, your sons slaughtered in their beds, and your daughters dragged off to warm Orcish beds."

That got some attention. The older citizens, especially the Kul Tirans, had gotten these sorts of messages ground into them by Admiral Proudmoore. She'd actually taken the threats directly from one of his speeches from the second war.

"Will you stand by and wait for the inevitable?"
A few cries of support rang out, She'd known that the Admiral still had a lot of support, even after his death, but she'd have never thought it would be so strong.
"Then stand together, take up the sword and be the shield of the Alliance. Enlist now and take the fight to the Horde!"
Cellan reached into her pocket and found the trinket she'd been looking for. She'd never thought it would be used again, and it was painful to think of that day. But this was its purpose, this was why he'd entrusted it to her.
"Give me the papers, and get some hot wax. I'm taking command of this post"
"By whose authority?"
"By mine," she flashed the signet of Thadsbrook at the young recruiter. "As the rightful lord of Thadsbrook keep, I'm assuming command of this recruiting station."
The officer stood dumbstruck, he'd probably never met an actual noble, and there was almost no chance he'd ever heard of Thadsbrook.
"Salute maggot, if you know what's good for you."
The entire compliment saluted their new commander.

Day Eighty-Seven

I'm going to make this quick because I need to go and reapply some burn ointment every fifteen minutes, check up on more than fifty injured warriors, and figure out whether healing a death knight hurts either them or me the most.

Ground assault is chaos, but we seem to be winning. We've secured the roof, and some of the adventurers and mercenaries are fighting their way through the remaining scourge within. We've taken heavy casualties, I didn't know the scourge even had archers in these numbers.

The scariest part has been the enemy death knights. Worgen death knights, I've never seen one before but there must be hundreds of them here. The Ebon Blade has managed to free a lot of them, but most are still fighting for the scourge. Goblins too, though in much smaller numbers. One of them got Geogg before I managed to empty his brain pan.

Don't worry, he's going to make it. Other than being hamstrung I think he's just in shock over how much pain I went through keeping him alive. I think I might understand him a little better now because of it. It's not that he enjoys pain, it's that he expects to receive it. Poor guy must have had some really freaky girlfriends if he even associates pain with sex. I feel so bad for him.

And for me, these burns are pretty bad. Plus I think I might have an arrow lodged in my back somewhere too, it really itches.

What's that?
Oh, and apparently I accidently repelled their commander. I keep telling Geogg it doesn't count for anything and isn't worth bragging about but he inisists I record it.
So this Lich pops up in the middle of the roof and starts going off about how our defeat is inevitable and how the scourge will never truly be defeated. So I threw the nearest thing at him and told him to shut up and bugger himself.
Aparently I was holding a hammer, I think I broke his ribs. He scurried back into the necropolis and I managed to fix the guy I was working on.


No, it's only heroic if you do it on purpose you awestruck git.


You have to be thinking about it to do it on purpose and I wasn't.


You brownnoser, I did not.

Just shut up and take your medicine. Sorry about that.

Day Eighty-Six

((Hit 80 yesterday, yay!))


We attack tomorrow morning. I've been brewing a special elixir just for this battle. It's actually a very old recipe. Natame mentioned it, and I asked about it while I was in the hinterlands. It's an ancient Troll draught. It grants those who drink it a spectrum of enhancements; from giving you the ability to cast more spells to hardening the imbiber's skin. It takes a great deal of precision to reach its full strength. I've got it at a simmer right now, We'll see how well It works in the morning. I'm not counting on it, but it could make the battle much less costly. The dosage is very low so everyone should be able to benefit. I really hope this works, I've only got third-hand and further accounts of its use; and they are from the side that lost. Still, every little bit helps. And I admit I'd kinda like to be responsible for that little bit.

I've also been reinforcing my robe for battle. Not much, just stitching an extra layer of cloth patches to it on the inside. I figure it'll help dampen the blows a bit, might help keep me warm too.


It brings back memories, watching everyone prepare for battle. Geogg is sitting in front of our fire sharpening his sword. He's got a little black whetstone like my father had, small enough to fit in one hand so he can hold the blade steady with the other. And he has the same expression, a sort of vacant stare that only hints at the concern he's clearly feeling. Dad had that same look the night before he and Cellan lead the men to Andorhal. He's just sitting there, mindlessly sharpening his sword.
I wonder where Cellan is now. I haven't seen her since I...



This one's for you Dad; I won't let you down again.

Day Eighty-Five

I spent yesterday talking with the witch doctors. They don't know much, but I think I may be able to make some progress at delaying the plague in those not yet undead. Not by much mind you, but for a few more weeks than I got when I was infected. I've put it into a report and filed it with Argent Command.


Dalfors arrived while I was gone; they're preparing to attack the necroplois, and they aren't wasting time either. The plan is for a ground assault by the Argent forces. This should draw out the armies within the necropolis. Then Ebon Blade knights and Argent skytalons, as well as auxiliary and mercenary forces, will board the Necropolis and hunt down its commander, who has yet to be identified. Geogg and I have volunteered to help with the later. I'll be assisting the medics in setting up an aid post on the top of the..construct? What exactly is a necropolis? Is it a ship, a building, or something else altogether?
Regardless, I'll be tending the wounded on-site. Geogg will be standing guard, keeping me from being distracted by stray spells, or swords and the like.


It's nice to have people you can count on, even if they do sometimes wierd you out a little bit.

Day Eighty-Three

Lot of supplies just came in with a caravan; and there were a lot of soldiers with them. Veterans by the looks of it, Ashen Veredict or whatever it was called. I'm told the Death Knights keep their own camp in the foothills to the south; but I suspect they're gathering as well.

No sign of Dalfors; but otherwise it looks like the rumors may hold some truth. I mean, the day to day combat here wouldn't make these numbers necessairy, and the supplies would feed the stand for the next year while expending ammunition at a rate of a shot per two minutes the entire time. To put things simply, the Crusade isn't that bad at logistics. Not a chance they'd send this much stuff without intending to use it, and soon.


Geogg is proving fairly adept with alchemy. He's not innovative, not that I'd give him the chance to fiddle with my things anyways. He has strong hands; doesn't drop anything, doesn't shake anything much, just very steady overall. It's nice having an assistant who can actually tell the difference between lichbloom and khadar's whiskers. The conversation isn't half bad either.

Day Eighty-Two

The Argents and the surviving Drakkari have been working hard to restore what they can of these lands. I'll admit they're not working together very well, and any progress is severely hindered by the remaining scourge and the Drakkari heretics on the upper levels. Attacks are still frequent, two Necropolis still hover over the lowest tier. The Drakkari are nearly as bad. Even with the remaining northern Loa safe from their reach, the heretics are well entrenched and determined to fight to the death.
It's a two front battle, but we are winning. Rumor amongst the Argent's here at the stand is that Crusader Lord Dalfors is coming to lead an assault against the necropolis Zeramas.


If it turns out to be true I think I'll offer my services. I may not be much of a fighter, or even a spell caster, but I can do a fair bit to help mend the wounded and to innoculate them against the lingering blights we can anticipate will be present there.

Day Eighty-One

Now that's how we were intended to fly. None of that mechanical nonsense, just a girl, a boy, and his gryphon. I can't believe Geogg actually has one. I've spoken with the Wildhammer, frequently. They'd come into town every midsummer's to pay their respects to my mother and then stay for the festival. I know how special the privilege of riding one is, and I can't believe I've actually met someone with that honour. It's amazing.

Sorry, I had a bit of a moment there. It's just that I've wanted to do that since I was a little girl. I can't believe that of all the people I've ever met, he's the one with a gryphon. Geogg 'I like to pretend I'm a darkfalen so people will beat me' Fremont; that's his last name, I heard him muttering it to himself while we were flying.



Anyways, I'm here in Zim'Torga. THe witch doctors here are pretty busy, but I've managed to arrange a sit down later in the week. Until then I'll be heading just down the road to the Argent stand and helping patch up some of their wounded.



A real live gryphon, and he even lets me ride it. How awesome is...oh right have to shut the thing or it keeps writing.

Day Eighty

I explained things as best I could. Geogg is insisting on carrying my bags, buying my drinks, and then wants me to hurt him for it. It's insanity!
I mean, If I wanted a peon I'd have hired one.


Upside is that I no longer pay for drinks, carry bags, and it is kind of nice to just wail on someone every now and then. I feel so..dirty for doing it though. I mean, in casual conversation he's a real sweetheart, just an all-around nice guy. Comes from a family of fishermen in Menethil, joined the army when the call went out and then the Argents when Tirion put out his call. He fights well, takes even deep wounds like a pro, and doesn't hesitate to put himself in between a friend and danger. If it weren't for his perverse love of pain I might actually like him.


Anyways, he'll be joining me on the trip to Zim'Torga in Zul'Drak. It's still dangerous there, so I'll be glad of the added protection. And Lady Trueheart agreed to provied us both with a crusader's tabard to mark us as under the Highlor'd protection.

Day Seventy-Nine

Sick puppy.


I'm not really opposed to dogs, although I prefer cats of course. But for once I'm not talking about diseased animals. Apparently, Geogg, that's darkfallen guy, takes some sort of sick pleasure out of the beatings I deal him. I feel a little used, and I'm not perfectly certain how to deal with him now. If I can't hit him, and he isn't sick, what do I do? Talk to him? What would I say?

I suppose I could just tell him to go away, but I feel like someone should be helping the man. Why not me? I'll just have a sit down with him and try to figure out how to help him.


This is going to set my Zul'Drak trip back a week or so, but I was going to need to come back for mail anyways. Who knows, maybe the guy's good with the sword and can be convinvced to tag along.

Day Seventy-Eight

Bleh, last time I go to Brill. The Society sent a few thugs to try and intimidate me into stopping my research. A good bar fight and several well placed vials of immolation oil later I found myself outside of the inn, minus the thugs. I got the herbs I'd needed though. And now that I'm back in Dalaran I'm firmly outside of the screamer's grasp.
I sent a letter to Lady Trueheart. After this weekend, I think I may need that neutral protection they've offered. I'm going to renew my work, I've been lax for too long.
An end to undeath; and I'll accept nothing but success.




I'm headed to Zul'Drak. There are Troll Witch Doctors there working with the Argents. I'm going to try and learn whatever I can from them about the scourge war from its early days. I've written the chieftans of the Kalu'ak to find out whatever they know on the matter. And I've even started researching in order to get an account from the surviving Nerubians. No one resisted the scourge as long as they did, they must have some way of preventing the plague from spreading.

Combined with my own knowledge, I hope to establish a compendium of plague knowledge in order to help everyone still working to cure it.




Oh, and that darkfallen guy missed me apparently. I'm told he was back every day I was gone, asking for me. I may need to have a sit down with him and figure out what's really up.

Day Seventy-Six

Writing from Brill, I had a shipment of Blindweed on order and some spare time. I figured it's cheaper to just go pick it up myself and use a portal to get back.

Lots of construction in progress, scaffolding and stone everywhere. I'd guess the screamer is fortifying the town. Against what I can't imagine.


I narrowly avoided the Darkfallen guy from the last couple days on the way out. I think he's following me, it's really wierd. I wonder what he wants, really wants.

Day Seventy-Five

Dumb guy was back again! I'm starting to get seriously worried about him. If he doesn't start thinking straight someone is going to run him through and behead him. I'll strap him down if it happens again and run some tests, just to be sure the antidote worked properly. Who knows what could happen otherwise.



Also had a guy come in looking to have me bring back his girlfriend. Nice Orc, I felt bad explaining that it wasn't that simple. I'd need the body, some candles, a large fee, and a lot of time. Even then there'd be no guarantee it would work, ressurection hinges heavily upon the person being willing, the Light being willing, and the ceremony being performed with absolute accuracy. Otherwise you'll probably just die in the process. I told him up front, I could bring her as far as undeath easily but actual life is almost impossible after more than three days.
I felt terrible about it, but such is death.
I told him he should mourn and move on, and that cats are very distracting.


I wish I had a cat.

Day Seventy-Four

Bit late today, the darkfallen victim from yesterday was back for more. I actually did feel guilty beating him this time. He's clearly not darkfallen, darkfallen aren't this stupid. Poor kid must just be touched in the head, after everything he's been through I don't blame him.


Otherwise, pretty boring.

Day Seventy-Three

More of the same. Highlight of the day; someone had been bitten by a darkfallen. Now normally this would be pretty interesting, but he'd already had his teeth knocked out by his friends as they carried him back. He'd even gotten the antidote already. The problem was that he still thought he was a darkfallen.

So I tied him down and beat him until he caught on. It's amazing how fast people will learn if you give them sufficent reason. I'd feel bad about it, but he was really obnoxious about it.


Owning a cat is getting progressively more desirable.

Day Seventy-Two

Just another day. None of my patients are dying, that's always good. Had a Gnome come in complaining of a sore wrist, turns out he'd had a small cog lodged in there for years. Popped that sucker right out and stitched him back up in under an hour.

I think I might get a cat. They can be quite useful and Illena mentioned having spotted a large rat in the store front downstairs, which I still haven't managed to rent out.
Plus it would be nice to have some company.

Day Seventy-One

Feeling much better now. It's been a while since I've done that, maybe if I check through my notes I'll find out if I ever developed an effective treatment. I'd make a fortune if I did.


Life goes on, killing time, saving lives, collecting this week's rent. I figured I'd do it weekly, now that the war is over a lot of people are just staying long enough to find out what happened to ther friends and family. I've put together a registry of everyone I've spoken with who's looking for someone, who they were looking for, and where they were going to be looking. Just in case anyone comes looking for them. Apparently the Argent's have been doing something similar.

Day Seventy

I'm going to sleep tomorrow. This hangover is killing me.

I told myself, 'you're just going to see if it's still open'. Then 'still open' became 'have they changed the menu'? ANd then came 'ooh that looks good' and of course 'better wash that down, wonder what's cheap and effective'.

I don't even know how one judges the effectiveness of beer! Is it based on taste to alchohl content? Maybe it's cost to taste, or a formula taking into consideration the total quantity plus taste over price.
Whatever it is, I bet a Gnome made it boring by figuring it out and writing it down.


I'm a professional and all, but some things should just stay a mystery. Like what Cellan does in the bath that takes so long or which position Ehrnsie likes best.
now I'm turning the lights of. This pain is worse than being stabbed in the leg.

Day Sixty-Nine

*giggles* I remember when I first heard that term. I was mortified.

It was a the week after I turned seventeen. I was still in Dalaran then, some of my classmates were heading to the bar and I'd decided to tag along since I didn't have any homework.
"So Bran, what did you do last night?"
"You know that waitress, the blonde one with the," he made a jiggling motion in front of his chest.
"You didn't."
An exuberant nod was followed by, "And I got some 69 all night long."
I feel kind of stupid in retrospect, but I never had much of an intrest and Dad wasn't the sort to explain things out of thin air.

"What resteraunt did you go too?"
"What?"
"I figure it must be really good if you kept getting it all night, so I figured I ought to try some."
They looked at each other in a mixture of myrth and confusion.
"Laudren, you probably should try some. How bout you come back to my place and I..."
"Shut up Jake. Poor girl probaly doesn't know the first thing."
"First thing about what?"
"Sex!" It was muttered quietly but the enthusiasm wasn't lost in the saying.
"What does 69 have to do with that?"
"It's a way to have sex?"
"Oh."

Honestly, I learned a lot that year. Never applied any..most of it.
I wonder if the pub is still open? I should check it out some time, have a good laugh at the younger students.

Day Sixty-Eight

For a war that's supposedly over the casualties don't seem to have slacked off.

I'll admit that most of them aren't my problem, and I'm hardly running a field hospital. Most of the folks that get referred to me are folks who have already been treated and brought within livable health conditions. What I get to deal with are the people who don't need healers, or had bad healers.

Take today for instance. I get a Dwarf hunter in from an Argent outpost down in the Dragonblight. All his wounds have been 'healed' for months now, he got mended within hours of the battle. Why would he need treatment?
Some numbskull left half a troll's rib in his chest and just mended over it. I had to cut the poor lad open and remove the filthy thing and then stitch him back up. It wouldn't even have been hard to just take the damn thing out of him in the first place, but some hasty, under-educated twit couldn't be bothered to do his job properly. I bought him a stout flagon and apologized for the immense pain he's had to endure for the last six months.


I think he stopped listening when he realized I was buying him a drink. You've really got to love the simplistic desires of the Dwarven people.

Day Sixty-Seven

I've picked up some side work as a medical consultant for the Argent Crusade. Not really sure why they'd need a consultant, seeing as they already have one of the largest medical teams in the region, but I'm glad to be of assistance.
It pretty much means I spend my time looking at wounded paladins and telling them that they'll walk again if they wait to walk again a little longer. Every now and then it means getting some poor kid with the plague and introducing him to undeath in as careful a manner as possible.


For me that means getting preached at a lot by mis informed young men who assume that, just because I'm undead, I'm some sort of infidel villiain. The looks on their faces when I demonstrate otherwise are priceless.

Day Sixty-Two

Sorry, I was...busy.. yeterday. Had some ground rules to lay out for the new tenants; wipe your shoes and pay your bills and the like. Went out to relax, didn't get back 'till late.

Set up my Alchemy equipment on the roof. It's summer, the nights are short and the days are dry. These sorts of oppurtunities don't happen often; Alchemy research under the blueish-grey Northrend sky. And the view is gorgeous.


What's even better is finnally getting to interact with some of the Alliance races again. The people here don't care if you're Human or Undead or even Orc, so long as you mind your own buisness and pay your tab. In fact, if my particular bar tab is any indication, I'd say the local Dwarven community has accepted me as one of their own.

Day Sixty

Whew, that took a while.



Tottally worth it though, who'd have known that furniture was one of the things Orcs are good at. I mean, this is seriously good furniture. The carving on the footboard is so intricate, I can actually see expressions on some of the Dwarves' faces. And the chairs are comfortable enough I actually fell asleep in one, and yet they were sturdy enough to survive a the Ogre they had doing the loading tripping over them. I thought for sure they'd be crushed but somehow they made it; although I'd bet the end table broke the fall a bit. Bit of a shame about the end table actually, I got a refund though. I'd have really prefered to have the end table. The furniture is lovely though; and now that all the paint is done the place is too. I did mostly gray, some dull greens and muted blues in the rooms. The downstairs is still vacant, but I managed to hire a maid to take care of things. Good rate too, she was happy to get the job at all.

Illena, former Argent. She got wounded in Icecrown a few months back and can't fight anymore. For forty silver a day and lodgings she'll be dusting and sweeping the whole building. It's not spectacular pay, but seeing as it comes with a free room and amenities it's actually a fairly amazing deal. I actually let her name her own price; least I could do for a vet.
I'd be worried about being taken advantage of, but I've got three tenants moving in next week. Housing market here in Dalaran is seller-controlled. I'm not scalping them by any means, but I'm making some good money. I've got another five rooms available, plus the shop downstairs. Amenities are all magic based, so I pay coppers a day for the whole building. This may well be the best thing that's happened to me since last time I went to Dalaran.

And on top of it all I sold the deed to most of Thadsbrook. It's a wierd feeling; knowing that you've just given up most of your family's physical heritage for several million gold.
Oh yea, Goblin's say they have a major buyer lined up for any land in the Andorhal area. I actually made double the value of the land, acording to last survey anyways. And I know the agricultural output of the of the land, annually, wouldn't equal the price within my lifetime. And I don't even know how long that lifetime is going to be. Can't imagine who'd want it; other than Ehrnren nobody would even give the place a second thought to my knowledge. Must be something political.


Regardless, I'm glad to be back.

Day Forty

Does no one sell furniture anymore? I could find potions that will turn you into all maner of creature, weapons from the finest smiths of Ironforge, Ogrimmar, and Icecrown, and spells that could turn you into a cat. So help me though, I still can't find anyone who sells furniture.

I did however find someone who referred me to a carpenter in the Grizzly Hills. Apparently some goblins managed to set up a few logging posts out there early on, the ones further inland are still being skirmished over, but the port is controlled by the Horde for now. So a few carpenters set up shop there while its stable.

The matress on the other hand was relatively simple. I found a fletcher and arranged to buy any feathers that don't make the grade. Then I found a tailor and had him stitch a case for them. With the right frame it should work perfectly, and it's rather cheap too. You'd be surprised how little people are willing to sell their leftover stuff for. Scraps of fur clothing can be purchased from any adventurer for a paltry couple silver, and make fantastic pillow stuffers.

I also had to stop and talk to the real estate agent. Nothing major, just a few Dalaran occupancy regulations we had to go over; stuff like 'no explosions after nine' and 'you are liable for any oozes released by your tenats'. I also asked him who I'd talk to about sale of large tracts of land, it would seem he does that too.


It's not adventuring, but I think it'll be an interesting experience fixing this up.

Day Thirty-Nine

I hate flying. Stupid Hippogriff kept darting after birds, totally ignored me the whole trip. next time I convince a professional to do the flying. Or better yet, I'll walk. Light I miss having a horse.

Good news is, I'm now the proud owner of one of Dalaran's surviving apartment buildings. Showed up at the door with the key and someone from the bank spotted me. Apparently the rent I'd been having channeled all these years ended up paying utilities. In a stroke of fortuitous tragedy, I am the only surviving occupant. As per housing regulation SS-434 I am now the building's legal owner. Praise the Light for last one out building ownership policies.
Renovations will take a while, but I wasn't planning on leaving the city for quite some time.

I spent the day cleaning out my old room. It's nice being back, but after so long the cobwebs were awful. I'll need to replace the mattress, the frame, most of the cabinets, everything in the dining room, and the nice chair in the parlor. The desk, miraculously, is fine. I think I'll try to hire some laborers tomorrow. Maybe there's a company that specializes in restoring damaged buildings.

Day Thirty-Eight, Escape part five

It hurts, but I can run short distances. Praise the Light for healers, may they never find my secret stash of healing potions and remain smugly satisfied. I'd hate to have them find out my rapid recovery was not entirely their doing. I expect the long term stuff will definitely be on account of their efforts though. I've made sure to take a few names down for Winter's veil cards. Jesessa agreed to get me released a day early, so long as I delivered a report to the Argent post in Dalaran. So I should be heading out tomorrow. I'm looking forward to seeing the city again.

I hate to say it, but I think I might sell Thadsbrook. I doubt I'll need the money, but someone else might. Not like it's useful for anything, and Dad did always say that it wasn't the land you owned but the land you protected that was yours. I'll let someone who can protect it own it, and I'll use the money to help protect somewhere else.

And here's part five of my escape.




She set to her task with haste, with little more than a basic mortar and pestle and a few second-rate vials she bottled the brew and drank the rest. It wasn't much, but it would supress the plague long enough for her to get to safety. Natame had returned on his raptor, A powerful red female he called Ta'la. She was fast, and strong enough to carry them both through the forests of Silverpine. But the ride was bouncy and they were forced to stop several times. It would have been bad enough just from the bouncing, but without a more sophisticated remedy the plague was entering stage three. She knew that it was incurable at this point. But if she could make it to Southshore and the small market there she could brew a more potent solution and delay it for several more weeks. Natame stopped on the road headed east at the crossroads. They both knew a troll would never be accepted in Southshore.

"I can take 'choo no furder. 'Choo gonna die soon, 'ta'int right to exact payment from da dyin."

"Thank you, I'll never forget what you've done."
The troll sauntered back to his raptor and road off to the north, towards Tarren Mill. Laudren downed another one of her makeshift potions and went south, to Southshore. She had escaped. But she carried now the bonds of undeath, and from them there was no freedom.

Day Thirty-Seven, Escape part four

Blizzard outside, total whiteout. Seems late in the season, I suspect magic.



Kor'Kron officer stopped in to visit. Seems like a decent enough fellow, for an Orc anyways. Wanted to make sure I was alright, spoke with Jessesa, the nurse(and finest pie chef this side of Stromgarde) to confirm it. Normally I'd think he was conspiring something, but he seems to sober and resigned to be planning anything. Old too, don't meet a lot of old Kor'Krons; they tend to die young and covered in blood.





Here's part four of my escape.



The tunnel was dark, which was no surprise, damp, which was as it should be, and full of small dead animals, which was not surprising but still disturbing. Laudren had gone in first and had to remove the cap at the end. No one was waiting for them, no one could be seen, or heard, or even smelled. The clouds, or smog, whatever it was that seemed to dull the sun in the glade, had faded enough to let the sun through to meet her. She pushed the cap off and was struck instantly by crippling nausea. She knew the feeling, it was stage two plague. In a matter of hours she'd begin losing consciousness, then the lightning rot, and undeath would follow. She'd seen it happen, inflicted it on others even. She could delay it, stop it even, but without the right herbs it was hopeless.
"'Choo alright?"
"It's the plague. Do you know what Peacebloom looks like?"
"Dat's da little white one?"
"Get me four flowers, and a sprig of silverleaf." She coughed, it felt moist and she felt a burning in her throat. "The name says what it is. Please hurry."
Natame didn't even stop to argue about her talking, or giving him orders. He paused slightly, looking up for a moment.
"Da Loa say 'choo not gonna make it, but dis not where 'choo gonna die. Ol' Natame gonna get 'choo da herb." He ran off, she could barely See his feet hit the ground before lifting once more. His footfalls seemed to make no noise, and to leave no print; and she was glad of his speed. It was just a matter of time, but she was going to make that time matter.

Day Thirty-Six, Escape part three

Walking with aid.
I read their report, I felt like they described my condition best. The bone is set, and it's healing nicely. It's just not strong enough yet for travel.
I find myself wondering if Ehrnren could have done this faster. Between my surgical and Alchemical expertise and her grasp of magical healing, we were an unstoppable force for medical good in Lordaeron. Once I set this she probably could have had my skin mended and my muscles knit back together before the first day was finished. I've yet to meet her equal as a healer. I wonder if she's still healing behind the Greymane wall.

Anyways, here's part three of my escape.

The door wasn't so much pulled open or swung open as it was disassembled in a manner preventing it from doing its purpose. And somehow the middle aged troll managed to do it in complete silence and without breaking anything. As Laudren stepped into the corridor she saw him replacing each of the parts in the lock and hinges. From the looks of it, the door was actually more secure now than it was when he opened it.
"So what's your plan?"
"'Choo gonna be quiet and put dis cloak on. Ol' Natame do da talkin."
"What about the guards?"
"'Choo gonna be quiet? 'Choo ask for Natame to get 'choo out, he gonna get 'choo out. 'Choo be quiet, let him do da talkin."

He certainly sounded like an expert, or at least very confident. And his behavior reflected that. His casual walk and meandering path through the undercity seemed too calculated to be ordinary. The way he greeted passing Forsaken was rude enough to seem realistic, but not passionate enough to be a true hatred. He even stopped and bought food and supplies, saying he was taking a long trip rather than admitting he was buying food for two(She hoped). If he wasn't an expert, it was only for lack of interest.
They'd made it to the lift before anyone stopped them.

"What are you doing with her? She's a prisoner of the Undercity and not permitted to use the lifts."
Rather than some clever or well thought out response she simply watched her guide decapitate the deathguard in full view of the mid-day shopping crowds.
"Dat's what da warchief does to spies of da Lich King." He spat in the guard's milky eye.
The crowds quickly began gathering around the corpse and Natame ushered her back down to the sewers in the commotion.
"What are we doing back down here?"
"Did I tell ya 'choo could be talkin yet? Ol' Natame changed da plan, we go dis way now."
"What if there's more guards? They could have locked down the city?"
"Dere 'choo go talkin again."
He walked up to one of the grates on the side of the pipes and pulled it off.
"Get in. Dis tube be takin us to da sout side o'da city. Den we talk 'bout my pay."
"Thanks"
"'Choo don' get out much do ya? Ya may not be tankin' Ol' Natame so much when I name 'choo payment."

Day Thirty-Five, Escape part two

I take back everything I've ever said about Elves, Argents, or nurses. This pudding is...[a section of illegible text rambles for eight lines flowing slightly into a ninth before becoming sufficiently spaced out to be read]...no wonder he loved her so much.
And to top it all off, it actually IS my Mother's recipe. Apparently her pies attracted attention within the baking circuits as far north as Stratholme; Jesessa tracked her down in order to see if the rumors were true and managed to go home with the recipe. She makes it sound like a rather simple matter but I'm sure that to Mom and Dad the idea of such a journey would be quite amazing.
In any case, it's been nice to get a taste of what my Mother was like.

Here's the next bit of my Escape.

Laudren was pacing in her cell. She had some papers strewn over the bed and had been trying to work out some sort of plan to sneak in sufficient quantities of Immolation Oil and Goblin rocket fuel to blast through grate in the floor so she could slip into the sewers and then use invisibility potions to avoid the patrols. She was just thinking about where she could hide a greater fire resistance potion in order to survive the explosion when she heard a voice.
"By da Loa, how ha' dey been keeping dis a secret for so long?"
"Hey!"
Laudren had met trolls before; not necessarily in war either. Her father had taken them out in to the forest to visit some travelling merchants; there had been a whole family of trolls with them. She knew that whatever their combat tendencies, linguistic proficiencies, and general dislike for humans; A troll who casually referred to their gods like this could be expected to have some sense of morals. Perhaps she could get him to run some errands for her, maybe knock out a guard or create a diversion by killing a few patrols; or something like that. She'd probably give him some gold for his troubles.
"What's dis? A human in da Undercity? Dis just milk da raptor, how in da Loa 'choo still be alive in dis pit?"
"I was trying to help them find a cure, at first anyways. They've made me a prisoner, you have to help me get out of here."

The troll stepped over to the little window in her door. His tusks stuck through the bars as he got close enough to see into the poorly lit cell. His eyes were bright, though that was likely just the reflected torchlight. She could feel his gaze wandering lower and pulled her arms to her breast instinctively.
"I can pay you if you can get me out. I'll make it worth your trouble."
"You be tellin the truth." The tusks withdrew into the corridor. "Ol' Natame gonna get 'choo out, but he gonna decide how and what choo pay. And 'choo gonna go along wit it, or choo gonna be in dat cell 'till choo be like da rest o da deaders 'round here."

Day Thirty-Four, Escape part one

They set my leg wrong. I waited until after they left to be polite before setting it properly. The Argents are well meaning enough, and very devoted, but they simply don't have the medical personnel available to do things properly. I've asked if they're recruiting; apparently they're always recruiting. I take that to mean I'm asking the wrong person. I've written to Light's Hope to see if anyone there has the answer I need.

Anyways, here's today's tale from Thadsbrook keep. I've copied out a more personal story this time; my escape from the Undercity.

"I'm sorry Laudren, this is from the higher-ups. I can't do anything about it."
"I've lived in that room for years, and now suddenly I'm being put in a cage? I'm not a prisoner here."
"News to me warm-blood; don't make this any harder than it has to be."
An outrage, she'd stuck around to try and cure undeath. It was a fool's errand, but she couldn't simply give up hope. After all, nothing is impossible through the Light. She'd put up with inflicting undeath, she told herself it was just to keep Lordaeron one kingdom. She'd put up with the abominations, welcomed them actually it was nice showing those enchanters that they weren't the only ones who could craft a golem. She'd even put up with the testing, the constant needles and the almost certainly related cough she'd developed. But she'd done it all as a fellow Apothecary working to help her kingdom, to suddenly be informed that she was a prisoner.
It was time to leave. Maybe she could find some remnant of the kingdom and tell them what was happening.

Day Thirty-Three; a brief account of how my parents met.

I'm disabled for now. It'll be at least a week before my leg is strong enough to be walked on. Stupid Argent's won't let me just salvage one from their dead. I suppose it's fair, burying a guy with everything he came into the world with (minus some blood). I hear there are engineers who can make mechanical limbs, maybe I should try to find one and deal with this stupid leg once and for all.

Oh well, guess I'll just be lying here for a while. Might as well record some family history in the mean time. I'll start with Mum and Dad and work my way back.


Weishei Aurastone was the son of Sir Harden Aurastone, lord of Thadsbrook Keep. The Horde was advancing from the south and young men from across Lordaeron were being called to service. But Sir Harden refused to allow his son to join the fight. In secret, his spiritual guide had forewarned him of an eminent danger to Thadsbrook, but prideful, secretive Harden told no one.
Out of the south, on a summer Sunday, a raiding party of Orcs and trolls, lead by a powerful Ogre came upon the keep. They ignored the town, their only objective being to prevent the troops there from joining the coming battles. Sir Harden died in the battle, and his trained guards with him. Weishei went into town and called the able-bodied men to service, sending the women and children to Lordaeron for safety. One remained though, without his knowledge, Tania the captain's daughter had been in the forest gathering berries when the attack took place and had not yet returned.
Rather than abandon their ancestral land, Weishei built a barricade around the town, and stationed a patrol along the road out of Alterac. Weeks passed, and it was not until midwinter's that the Ogre returned to finish the town. With his new power, granted by Cho'Gal at the Darrow Cairn, he came to burn it to the ground.
Gro'Lak, Ogre one of the first Ogre Magi lead a strike force of forty Orcs and five vile trolls against the defending peasantry. Weishei's blade claimed four and his men the rest at much loss, but against a mage as strong as Gro'Lak the men could not stand. A dozen fell before his fist and a dozen more burned in his flames, and he could not be brought low.
But at last came back the greatest warrior of the town, fallen in with a band of Dwarven hunters, returning from an exploration in eastern Lordaeron, returned to her home, a score of stone-browed dwarves beside her. Where others fled or lagged behind she charged. A fallen hammer she snatched up from the ground and with no armor save her weathered frock she lept upon Gro'lak.

He married her that spring, amazed by her bravery and enthralled by her baking. I've never had the privilege of finding out what she found so attractive in him. But I do have proof of her courage. One of the only possessions I carry with me is Gro'Lak's ring, which she wore as a bracelet in memory of that day. It's not the most powerful artifact in the world, but as jewelry goes it's actually quite nice. Gold with rubies, runes worked within to fortify spirit and stimulate intellect; and the rubies are cut and enchanted to replenish energy and strengthen spells.

Day Thirty-Two

Regained consciousness early yesterday, regained dexterity about an hour ago; Memory is fully intact though. A lot of people would be amnesic after a beating like that. This is just one of those times I'm all the more confident in the Light's guidance.

Oh right, the attack itself. For a defeated enemy the scourge are still very active. A drove of Frost Wyrm's being ridden by Cultists assaulted the outpost. Jad's dead, so much wasted effort and time; once I'm walking again I've secured permission to go through his effects and carry word back to his family. I'll miss him, but such is life. Dozens of others share his fate, including some of the Argent Crusaders that had been helping here.
I managed to kill a few cultists before I went down myself. Someone caught me over the back of the head with a cudgel and apparently one of the Frost Wyrms landed on my left leg. I've got minor skull fractures, a concussion, and while I haven't bothered telling the healer yet my leg was in need of replacement anyways, my left leg feels like tapioca. Praise the Light for the dulled nerves inherent in this plague, they don't make pain killers strong enough for this sort of stuff. My equipment is intact though. The outbuilding I'd been using didn't take much damage and we've had no need of it since the attack.

Another upside to this whole business is that its given me a chance to talk to some of the Crusaders. Most of the ones here are Elves, but I've had the unique pleasure of being under the care of this detachment's only living human member, lad by the name of Joseph. He's Lordaeronian by birth but was only 12 when the plague started. His family sent him to stay with an Aunt in Kul Tiras so he'd be safe. He ended up going back when he turned sixteen and joined up with the Argent Dawn, been fighting the Good Fight since. Hearing him talk about what Lord Tyrosious and Highlord Fordring have been doing, not just for Lordaeron but for all Azeroth, has struck somewhat of a good nerve. If I survive Northrend long enough to make it home, I think I'll offer Maxwell my services as a true apothecary. Healers are all well and good, but for some things you need a real medical professional. In any case, it'll be nice to spend time around living people who don't want me dead for once.

Day Twenty-Nine

Dragonfires burn everything. Twisted metal, scorched bone, even the saronite steps of the gate were shattered under the heat.
But they're Reds; out of every crack and crevasse comes life. Flowers of a thousand unnamed varieties, moss on the rocks, and I could have sworn that was a black lotus growing on the gate itself. Oh the things I could learn spending just a week with them in a time of peace; their herbalists must be unparalleled.

Anyways, I found what I was looking for. It's a paladin's hammer, Lightforged by the finest smiths of Ironforge and blessed by the Archbishop himself. I'm afraid any power it may have had was burned away by the Dragons. I'll have to have it reforged, it'll take a powerful smith to remake the weapon.
And remaking it is only the beginning; It'll need to be blessed by one favored by the Light. I'll need to have it inscribed with certain runes, so as to bind it to my faith and my strength. And lastly I'll need to gain the strength to wield it. Of all the tasks the last will likely be hardest. But I am resolved to see it to the finish.

Light guide me in this undertaking. May its power strengthen me and its protection rest on my quest.

Day Twenty-Eight

I can't believe no one at Fordragon hold bothered trying to stop on injured troll and an unarmed priestess. Somehow we made it right past though. The Kor'Kron are little better. A sort of passive malaise seems to have fallen on the steps of the wrathgate. Fortunately, the Argent Crusade has sent a few healers here to help with the survivors. It's less their injuries and more the spiritual and mental damage that they suffered in the disaster. I think that getting Jad back into fighting shape should be no real problem for them. In the meantime I'll be searching the steps for a paladin's weapon; something I can carry with dignity.

It's nice having some space to work on my Alchemy in again. The whole base is practically abandoned, I've taken over one of the outbuildings. Orcish architecture, but compared to the utter crap the Forsaken have been building lately it's kind of nice. Plenty of space, I can set up my kit on one side of the room and vault over the bunker of crates for cover on the other.
Not that I need it often, but it's nice to put an extra layer of defense between me and the occasional bad elixir. Helps with angry mobs and oozes too.


Did you know that oozes are the leading cause of death in alchemists after spontaneous combustion and war? Learning how to properly kill them used to be an essential part of the Dalaran standardized Alchemy curriculum. Magic is best, although managing to breach the outer skin works in a pinch. I hear goblin grenades are the most effective method of all though.

Day Twenty-Seven

Found my pen. It fell in the snow during that tussle with the ghouls last night. I insisted on staying until we found it. The rest will do him some good anyways.
Yea, a squad of ghouls stumbled on our camp last night. We managed to kill them, but it was pretty scary. Damn things came out of nowhere, one of them puked on the fire and we had to fight in the dark. It could be me, but I think they're getting weaker since Arthas died. I wonder how that's going to affect us.
Or them anyways, I've never really been under his influence. It was a Forsaken plague that killed me, or rather several Forsaken plagues. Still, the root plague was his and I expect some part of it will still affect all of us.

Jad's recovering. I've convinced him to just stick to magic until he's recovered a bit. As long as that curse is their he'll be endangering himself with every fight, more so than usual anyways. The poultice is helping, I've been using copious amounts of Goldclover so it had better be working. I've added a minor potion regimen as well. He should be working fine by the time we get to the Wrathgate.


Speaking of which, I can see it over the hill. We should arrive tomorrow around lunch.

Day Twenty-Five

He's cursed. It's an old one too. I've had to consult a grimorie to identify it. It's what's called a 'curse of wounds'; he can't recover from wounds on his own, no matter how long he rests. I've begun a regimen of poultice-soaked bandages. This just keeps getting worse.
I'd prepare a purification potion, but I can't afford the month it would take to ferment properly. I kinda hope someone in Dalaran knows how to dispel curses, because despite what many apothecaries will tell you purification potions only rarely work properly on curses.

Of equal importance is how he got cursed in the first place. Normally I'd say he had an extended run in with a warlock or a necromancer, but the curse just doesn't have that sort of feel to it. I think this may be a rather recent issue, particularly since he seems to have been unaware of it. I'd wager, seeing as none of the Taunka or Kor'kron had the magical capacity to place such a curse so easily undetectable, that this was the work of someone in Dalaran. I haven't badgered him over who might want him to suffer like this, but I might have too.



Oh, and I had that dream again last night. There was blood on her hands this time. I'm going to be cutting my stay in Dalaran short so I can return home. Even if I can't hope to help her from this side of the wall, I can at least have the crypt cleaned and readied for her return.

Day Twenty-Four

Sun was out today, that was nice. Trees are still dead, but I suspect this is about the point when they would have started growing leaves. Herbs are still frozen solid; made a Little progress identifying some more of them. Tiger lily seems more frequent around water, so it actually is a lily(see 'talandra's rose'). Goldclover is also properly named. I can't help but wonder if those explorations had actual alchemists accompanying them. There's also this sort of indistinguishable dead herb that grows everywhere. Whatever those herbs were, they've all faded to a single potent weed. It's a real shame to see so much of the local flora totally shattered by the Lich King's influence. Perhaps in time things will recover; and undead and all, I'll probably be there to watch it happen.

I had to stitch Jad up again. I always heard that Trolls recovered quickly, I'm starting to wonder if there might be some kind of pre-existing condition or magical ailment on top of the wounds I know of. I think I'll have to try a detection ritual. I don't need the ritual, I just think that, as good tribes-troll, he'll be more comfortable if I perform one. Besides, I've got all this extra incense sitting around weighing down my pack and want to get rid of it.
It's also more fun that way.

Day Twenty-Three

Made half the time today we did yesterday. I had to change his bandages hourly. I know the Kor'Kron outpost by the Wrathgate should have medical facilities. We'll stop there for a couple extra days so I can make sure his wound seal properly again. Until then I'll have to keep a close eye on him for any signs of infection or excess bleeding.


I've been thinking back on the last year. Since I died I've been doing things for the RAS; terrible things. The use of the plague is practically necromancy.
Scratch that, use of the plague is necromancy.
The question is; what other choice do we have? Between killing people and raising them there can be no question that it's wrong; but we have no way of continuing to grow without it.
Before I was willing to do it as a temporary measure. I now know that they intend to make it a lifestyle instead of a necessary evil. I still have the implements though, if I must I can.

But in order to end the evil practice I must put my full efforts into finding a cure, or at least a fertility restorative. It is of the utmost important that I succeed.
Light provide me wisdom, insight, and luck in my task. And forgive me for aiding in such evils.


Oh, and Jad decided that after my difficulty dealing with that soldier yesterday I should join him in his calishtetics, or something like that. As if the day couldn't get any more tiresome, now I have to exercise before I take my eight hour walk. At least now when I have a weapon I'll have the strength to use it.

Night Twenty-Two

I just had a dream.

Dad always said that I should keep records of any dreams that stood out. With as little sleep as I normally get having dreams at all is rare, much less one of a striking nature.
I'll admit that the problem is further compounded by my past overuse of Dreamless sleep potions. I always make sure to warn younger alchemists of the dangers of overusing dreamless sleep potions; I just wish someone had mentioned it to me when I was younger. So much perfectly good dreaming lost forever.

Anyways, I dreamt of wolves. A little girl was sitting in a pen with nothing but the shadows to garb her, and the wolves were howling from all sides, and also from within the pen. And she was staring at me, crying for me to help. But I couldn't get into the pen.
Then the earth shook and there was fire all around us, and the pen was torn asunder. But when I went to put my cloak around the girl and comfort her I found instead a wolf greater and fiercer than the others. And as the wolf-girl pounced I woke.



I think Ehrnren is in trouble.

Day Twenty-Two

Ran into a few Alliance stragglers today. I kept Jad from attacking at first. They were survivors of Bolvar's legion, been wandering since the wrathgate. I recognized the tabards from a wanted poster the Kor'Kron had put up. Apparently they've been hunting down these sorts of people. I expect the Alliance does the same to any Kor'Kron stragglers they encounter. One of them spotted us and he and his buddies fired a few rounds in our direction. No harm done, but if we'd let them keep going they'd eventually have hit someone. Turns out that someone has been studying with one of the elder blademasters of Blade's Edge. Sword may not be the weapon of choice for most Trolls, but Jad used it like a pro. I've never seen any mage fight that well in melee.
I had to reseal some of his wounds. I'm just glad he didn't get any new ones. Would have slowed us a good week if he had. As it is we'll probably be an extra day's travel to keep him safe. I can't wait to get to the safety of Dalaran.


I managed to get a few blows in myself. I'm not actually armed, but if you hit something hard enough and long enough it'll die. A little more blood on my clipboard, nothing I can't polish off when we get to Dalaran.
I may need a proper weapon though. I'm sure some paladins fell at the Wrathgate, with the proper rites I can sanctify one of their hammers for my own use. Jad's a mage, but I'm sure he can understand the need for a properly prepared weapon. With any luck I'll still remember how to use it. Shouldn't be to hard, I'll practice with a weighted branch until then. That's another extra day. I'd wager it'll take us a full week or so to get there, if all goes as planned.
It never does, which is why I always estimate to compensate for such events.

Day Twenty-One

Jad speaks Amani, fluently. Boy am I glad Dad put it on the curriculum. I can understand most of what he says, and usually manage to properly enunciate properly. More amusing still, he reads and writes common. Shouldn't surprise me I suppose, most of the books in Dalaran are in common. It'd be hard to find a mage who doesn't; a good one anyways.

I walked into a tree when he spoke. Kind of silly, but it just came out of nowhere. Here we are, walking through the light springtime snow, when out of the blue I hear this voice say 'Hey dead lady, can you wait a second? I need to go drain the lizard.'.
We got to talking afterwards. He's a Revantusk, from the East coast of the Hinterlands. I've actually visited the area for the RAS; lovely region, nice people. Good fishing I'm told. Apparently he learned magic from some Elven spell books stolen from a local ranger outpost(farstriders or whatever they call themselves). Reading them with the help of one of the tribe's more educated members, and learning how to read them for himself, he worked to harness the Elven powers to serve his tribe. Considering his strength, he probably could have served them just fine without magic. After the Revantusk joined the Horde he chose to serve with Thrall's Kor'Kron. Sometime around when Garrosh started gaining power and influence they stopped taking Trolls. He left in protest and has been training since.
He's very nice otherwise though. I can sympathize with his loyalty to his people, and you have to give him credit for choosing to learn magic when he could have made it just fine as a hunter or a warrior. Were he somewhat more religious he'd have made a great Shaman or Paladin. He's very much the sort of noble, if somewhat rash, troll that Dad always told me must exist somewhere.

Shame I never seem to meet any men like that of my own race. I could have died happy and pregnant instead of six years late and a virgin. Alas, such is not my fate.

Day Twenty

He was packed. I'm a little surprised. I'd been expecting him to need at least an extra hour or so. Can't say the idea of marching across a Dragon's graveyard in nothing but a robe appeals to me, especially this early in the season. I went ahead and picked up some furs from a Kalu'ak trader who'd come north. Maybe that thin coat of fur he's got will keep him warm, but my bones are chilled in this wretched continent.

We left early, just after sunrise. I payed for our rooms, they overcharged me. A small crowd gathered to jeer us off. I suspect that the patches of ice on my robe were originally spit. Jad must have some fight in him still, I had to keep him from attacking one of the louder Orcs.

We've been travelling North along the forested foothills that separate Lake Wintergrasp from the Dragonblight. I found a nice cave here, and am taking the watch while he rests. He's not actually asleep yet, I think he might be spying on me. It's been a long time since I shared quarters with anyone. I have to say, while he smells worse Jad is much quieter than Ehrnsie was. Although they do seem to share a preferred state of dress. I don't really know much about troll sleeping habits, but I'd really rather not be faced with..that..anytime he stands up.

And on that disturbing thought, I lay you aside to check my traps. I expect something has stumbled upon one by now.

Day Nineteen

The incense strategy seems to have worked reasonably well. He actually made note of it. From the sounds of it I actually made a fairly accurate imitation Shamanistic ritual, or at least the shamanistic rituals his clan practiced. I confess a certain amount of pride in pulling this off so well.



I've informed him, in my best Orcish, that We'll be walking to Dalaran tomorrow. He seemed to acknowledge my statement. I hope I said what I meant too and not something completely different. My Orcish is little better than my gutterspeak. And I doubt anyone around here would take kindly to, or understand, my common. What's worse still is that considering the lack of trolls in the Kor'Kron it seems likely that the higher classes of Orcs, those who not only make up but select the Kor'Kron, are to some extent discriminating against the Trolls. As such, I doubt any attempt to converse in Amani improve the situation. Even amongst the Taunka, who's interactions with the local Drakkari tribe have left them very careful about their interactions with trolls.

It seems odd that a Knight of Lordaeron and a Troll mage would have more in common with each other than with anyone else in so diverse a town as this.

Day Eighteen, Northrend..Visit now I suppose.

I got a letter last night, urgent courier. How he kept his wyvern from being stolen by a taunka I don't know.

Apparently the RAS, despite constant Kor'Kron overseeing, is privately disowning any apothecaries working on non-plague projects. I've just finished writing my resignation.
I joined to help people, not to make their skin boil from within and then leave their traumatized souls bound to their rattling bones. I was willing to help when undeath could be considered a service to Lordaeron, but it's become increasingly clear that this is just about cruelty to our fellow, if rather more alive, man and the domination of others. I can not in good conscience condone such acts. Once it gets through, I'm going to be paying for inns and I'm going to need a new source of income.
I've got some money stashed in my apartment in Dalaran, and I'd made arrangements for my rent to be payed automatically. Unless they've changed the locks I should be set, if I can ever get there.

Jad'Ali still won't talk to me, although It looks like he is the mage I wrote for. I've taken the liberty of writing to the Kirin Tor to ask them more about him. They haven't gotten back to me yet, but with any luck they'll be able to tell me enough for me to formulate a strategy for making him talk. I've been trying a few more universal means of expressing my good will, strengthening his spirit, empowering his constitution. Burning votive candles and praying for him seems to be having the reverse affect, I'd guess he's had interactions with the Scarlet heresy; or maybe trolls just don't like the idea of human religion, associate it with dangerous paladins and priests whipping their flock into a troll hunting frenzy. I think when I try it tomorrow I'll go with incense burners and the sacrifice of a local rabbit, that seems like a more culturally sensitive way of conveying the same point.


I hear that Putress declared once 'Death to the scourge! and Death to the Living!', I'd just like to say, 'Damn the Kor'Kron, and Damn the Dark Lady', the two of them have done more to undermine my efforts to help Lordaeron than anything else. If ever the chance arises, I'll make that ranger-harlot pay for dragging the whole kingdom into her selfish quest for power. We could live by now if it weren't for her insatiable lust for destruction.