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.