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.

Day Seventeen, Northrend Assignment

His name is Jad'Ali. And he's deathly afraid of me.

Actually, I suspect he's just deathly afraid in general. Whatever spunk he had when he arrived got thoroughly beaten out of him by those under-butchered mountains of beef. He feigns sleep or stupidity whenever I'm around, but he doesn't realize that I have quite the stock of invisibility potions. I've seen him pacing, reading, dictating to his journal(marvelous enchantment, writes down everything he says; wouldn't mind having one myself[no offense intended to you of course my leatherbound confidant]). I feel kind of bad eavesdropping, but it's my responsibility as a physician to heal what ails him. Right now what ails him is shattered confidence, overwhelming fear, and bruised pride. And before I can feel right about releasing him back into society I have to make sure he's ready to handle himself. Then I intend to exact payment in the form of free ports to Dalaran at my convenience for the rest of my life. He'd sure as the sunrise better be thankful for it too, I'm expending a lot of my noticeably less valuable time on this.

And while I could be wrong, I think he might be involved with an Elf. Not that it's any of my buisness, just that I find it odd to hear that a Troll and an Elf have anything but resentment and loathing for each other. If what he's written is any indication though, she's cheating on him and is a complete bitch. I ~might~ try and find him a more suitable partner; something in the tusks and voodoo variety.
Ehrnren could have probably done wonders for the poor kid, but I'll still do my best.

Day Sixteen, Northrend Assignment

It's been years since I had a fight like that. By Faol's greatstaff I hate those Kor'krons. You'd think the personal forces of the warchief would be a little more principled and dignified. To sink to a brawl just because I pointed out that Human troops had proven themselves better than Orcish ones in the last war. They'd been talking crap about Undead soldiers being lazy and worth a tenth of even Orcish peons. We've fought to hard to take this kind of bull$#&@ from a bunch of lice ridden mongrels like them. Last thing they succeeded at was occupying capitol city, and then only because we weren't willing to risk a two front war. But there's a reason all the plagues the Apothecarium turns out are as effective on Orcs as they are on humans, and it's not convenience.

Boy is it not convenience. The genetic make-up isn't quite as different as Dwarves and Humans, but to get a truly effective plague it has to reach the same end while working with two completely different paths. I'm always amazed at how easily the Scourge seems to work these things out.

My jaw still hurts, but everything is still attached. My patient is mobile, I'm seriously considering just walking to Dalaran. He hasn't spoken yet, I wonder if it's just me or if he just doesn't speak anything but Trollish. Maybe he's a mute. Who knows?

Day Fourteen, Northrend Assignment

Mage arrived today, He promptly got into an argument with one of the Taunka over who'd kick who's manly behind. Poor idiot won; shame he didn't have the insight to consider the forty something other Taunka in the room.


I'll be stuck here a few more days while I nurse him back to health. I'm not tipping.




Which is a shame really. When they're out of their element Trolls tend to fall back on a sweeter nature. They're great in a fight for sure, but you take a troll away from his tribe, across the ocean, and beat him to a pulp, he'll sweat sugar.
I should probably hate trolls even more than Orcs; It's not like the family's ever gone a generation without killing one; hell even Ehrnsie killed one once. Sure he was wounded badly and would have died whether she did anything or not, but you have to give her credit for being the one to step out of the crowd and land the blow.
But I wouldn't say any of us have ever really hated Trolls. You fight something long enough and eventually you develop a certain respect for it. You understand that they're every bit as human as you are, with homes and families and a strong desire to not die. I've always kind of figured that at least a few of them feel the same way. Natame did; he nearly died saving me. I hope he lives a long and happy life and has lots of fuzzy little whelps.


Well, pulling an all-nighter to make sure the dopey kid takes his elixirs. Haven't seen case of the beat-downs like this since Andorhal. But this time, I'm not losing him.

Day Thirteen, Northrend Assignment

Taunka.

They are to the Tauren what the Mag'har are to the Orcs. A more savage, unrefined Pre-Thrall race of Warriors and shaman..Shamen, something like that.
Don't get me wrong, I'm no fan of Orcs. I've heard the stories Dad told me, and the ones Grandpa told him; they're a dangerous and horrific people. But their Warchief seems respectable enough. I'd actually heard a few stories about what happened at Durnholde, and if the rumors I've heard from some of the older Orcs and a few of the..what do you call an older forsaken? Well, some of them said he did it over a woman, a human woman.
In my book, love is a pretty good reason to level a fortress. Any girl would be blessed to meet a guy that mad for her.


Oh right, the Taunka.
I prefer Tauren. The mood around here is still really tense even with the war fundamentally over. A regular herd of pessimists; and they all think the Orc's offer of entry to the Horde is the best thing since buttered corn, another introduction of the Horde. At least with the Tauren they're polite about the spirits; these folk seem to think that the spirits are evil and that they'll be safe now that they have the power of the Horde on their side. Have I mentioned that they like the Horde?
Honestly, I'd rather listen to an Elf talk about himself; the praise would be less flowery and more humble than this tripe.


Oh, and they seem to have gotten it into their heads that the best way to serve the Horde is by loading all four hundred plus pounds of themselves onto any Wyvern that comes through the base and flying it straight north to Wintergrasp. I've gone ahead and mailed a letter to Dalaran for them to send a mage to port me there. With any luck I've still got a few friends left either alive or consciously undead.

Northrend Assignment, Day Twelve

Personal note; not only are Goblins complete morons, they're also utterly incompetent. Last time I ever travel by zeppelin, Mages may have their problems but no one ever had to walk for three days across Dragonblight because 'I don't get paid enough to steer around that dragon.
I'm just glad that there was so much snow to cushion my fall.


All the herbs around here are frozen. Maybe I'll be able to tell the difference with more practice, but for now I just have to wait for things to thaw out so I can identify them. It's slow, but last time I didn't take the time to properly identify my herbs I tried to make a swiftness potion with Kao's lichen instead of Coren's moss; you can imagine my embarrassment, especially in the middle of a crowded lab. Took nearly two weeks to bring down the swelling on Elric.
Not that he minded, I hear Madam Palsiy paid him that week. Must have been a nice change.


Where was I?
Right, Dragonblight.

I don't like dragons, I don't like spiders, and there isn't a single person in the entire town who doesn't hate me for being undead. I don't even care what this place is called, I'm paying the extra cash for a wyvern ride to Dalaran first thing tomorrow.

And If the conversation outside is any indication, I won't be sleeping either. Not that I blame them, just that they blame me.
Stupid Orcs.

Day Nine, Northrend Assignment

Cross-continent zeppelin is stopping in later. I'll be heading out to Warsong Hold on the western coast.








Apparently there's a scourge fortress there, mostly abandoned now. I was hoping to pop in and check it out before I head further inland. According to the more permanent residents of Northrend, Kalu'ak, trappers, and some of the Taunka longrunners we get occasionally, the Nerubians are still fairly active. Apparently some of them have survived against all odds, even between the Twilight Cultists and Scourge.

Day Eight, Northrend Assignment

Turns out I had the day right. I was pretty happy telling that stuck up turd about it too.



Talandra's Rose. Sounds like an Elf found it doesn't it? According to a few trappers that were taken prisoner in the Grizzly Hills north of here it was actually discovered by a Tirasian sailor during one of the pre-Dark Portal Northrend incursions. He happened upon the rose's properties by accident when it was used in a tea, subsequently bringing new strength to the party's mage. As the discoverer of the plant, he was permitted to name it.

Besides being named for a Silvermoon harlot, Talandria's Rose isn't even a rose. It's a bloody nettle, a pretty nettle but a nettle nonetheless.
I'm just waiting to hear that some Gilnean merchant has named a thistle 'Ehrnren's Lily'. That'd just make my day.

Day Seven, (I think); Northrend Assignment

Not certain of the date, Bronze Dragons fought some blues overhead yesterday(probably) and lost. The local garrison captain sent a messenger to vengeance landing to get the right time/date so we could reset all our clocks.
We still don't know why they were fighting exactly. To my knowledge Malygos died not long after the Wrathgate, shouldn't all this dragonflight nonsense be over with? I've heard some rumors that the Black flight is getting more active lately, I've written Master Faranell about the matter. I'm still awaiting his reply, but I may have to take the initiative myself.

Coincidentally, Bronze dragon scales react strongly when mixed into a dreamless sleep potion. We may have lost a few of those days on account of that discovery. Although I must say, it was the best sleep I've had since before the war. In small doses this could be a spectacular advance in insomnia treatment. Recommend use of protective ventilation during manufacture.

Day Five, Northrend Assignment

It's hard to get back into the habit of keeping a personal journal. I'm used to taking notes on my alchemy, but trying to sum up my day is entirely different.


Gave a guest lecture to the local apprentices, topic was 'herb cultivation; the domestic garden theory'. I've always been a big proponent of the domestic garden theory and was quite honored to give the lecture, even if it does get laughed at by most of the prominent developmental alchemists out there. I have confidence that one of these days every household will be able to simply walk out into their backyard, or possibly some sort of glass house designed to maintain a particular climate for their herbs, and pluck their own fresh blind weed; instead of having to purchase the preserved crap we have to make due with so often now.

I sent a letter to a nice young blacksmith a few weeks ago, tauren named Mundle. I got a letter back from him today, he was very polite. I've always liked that about them. For all their peculiar beliefs, the Tauren are generally a very kind and cultured people.

Day Three, Northrend Assignment

I finally got the enchantment on this old thing working! One of the nice apprentices in New Agamand was able to fix it up after the whole, well...dying.

Apparently soulbinding doesn't work well with dying. Retrospectively, it makes a lot of sense. I really wish I'd thought of that myself. Enchanting never did quite fit in my mind, to much feeling out the properties. I'll stick to my formulas and transmutation patterns than you very much.



Ah yes, what did I do today. Helped Hacksaw handle some abomination constructions, poor lass may be a great hand with her tools but she can't tell a spleen from a sphincter. Its no wonder all her abominations explode. With any luck she'll remember some of the stuff I showed her and next time a war breaks out we won't waste so much valuable tissue on suicide attacks.
Time to turn in. The Os..goods I think it is.. the sisters who run the inn here, are still happy enough to hand out free room and board for Apothecaries. Thank goodness for that, I've heard the Moorehead's shop was reopened recently and was hoping to stop by when I get further inland. At their prices I'll need every copper I've got.
G'night journal, it's good to have you back, swiftthistle stains and all.