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.