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[Mar. 11th, 2009|12:38 pm] |
Every time I've sat down to write about what has been occupying my time of late, I find myself instead reading back through older entries until I've spent so much time on that that I need to get back to work. It's been nearly three years since I started my unlife. I feel like it's aged me so much. Not in body, of course, but in spirit. These old entries were the musings of a frivolous child with little more to worry about than her own romantic intrigues. I was just happy to dance in the ashes of old Lordaeron's noble society and pour myself into the study of all the things I was never allowed to study and chase after foolish pauper boys. It was easier then, wasn't it, before I had any serious responsibilities? But I don't think I was as happy. My purpose was not so clear. I wanted to make a name for myself that was not just the Darrow name, but I didn't really know how. Overlord Ghrast gave me a focus when he brought me into Curse, not to mention more respect with the Royal Apothecary Society, but it wasn't until he passed away and passed the Tome to me that I really properly grew up. For once I had serious matters depending on me. Other people were depending on me. And for all the doubts I felt like I was doing the sort of thing I was always meant to do. Plagos, my dear Plagos, freed me from that search for companionship that I couldn't bring myself to leave behind, but without all the girlish weakness. And then I married him, even though I once thought I'd never want to marry. I've grown up so much.
Of all the things I've lost since undeath, all the things mentioned in these old writings that are no longer a part of my life, I miss Orloc the most.
I should probably hone my paranoia and suspect that what I am working on does not want me to reflect too much on it and is guiding me to muse on the past as a distraction. Or is it telling me there is a message there? |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 3rd, 2009|05:00 pm] |
Excerpt from Apothecary Meridith Deathweaver's Laboratory Notes
Advanced Abomination Project Codename: Renfeld is nearing completion. The body of the Deathstalker requisitioned for the project has been reassembled and is now waiting for me to perform the ritual necessary to bind a soul to it. I was able to retrieve most of his original body parts from the Scarlet Onslaught's "New Hearthglen" encampment near Venomspite. Some vital pieces that could not be retrieved or which had been damaged beyond ability to reuse have been replaced by Nerubian tissue I have kept around the lab. The results are decidedly patchwork but functional. I tried to keep mechanicals to a minimum but I did require an associate of mine, one Dariahn Wheeler, to construct a jaw hinge from samples of Saronite he gathered from Northrend. A replacement for another vital piece - the soul - was taken from New Hearthglen as well.
It is in this aspect of the project that I am most deviating from the original Advanced Abomination prototype. The original prototype - referred to from here on as "Orloc" - had several flaws in his design, most notably the soul of a criminal still loyal to the Scourge. He also had commands buried within him to override his own will at Varimathras' command, the discovery of which led to that version ultimately having to be destroyed. By staying personally involved in every aspect of his creation, I will be able to prevent any such problems from marring the new prototype. This will give us a more accurate idea of whether these Advanced Abominations will be viable to produce in larger quantities. It is worth noting that our experience with Orloc has proven that these creations are succeptible to such tampering. I had hoped that encouraging the development of his free will would help, but while it may have helped overcome the matter of his corrupted soul it was of no use against the dreadlord's control. However, of the few notes that were kept from me that I was finally able to acquire after the demon's treachery, I have determined that the buried commands were implanted at the earliest stage of his construction, and therefore my constant involvement should prevent such an unfortunate thing from happening again. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 8th, 2009|04:23 pm] |
I have made arrangements for Miss Melana and myself to travel further into the mountains come morning with some goblins who have a small outpost up here. In the meantime I'm watching my companion - companions, to be fair - become accustomed to the weather. It hadn't occurred to me that, being in residence of a much fresher body than my own, Melana might still be bothered by the cold. It had clearly occurred to her, however, because she has brought all manner of furred armor and fire-making supplies. She's concerned with trying to preserve her body, and she's terribly worried about what damage might be done by allowing it to freeze. As I've only ever dealt with her in civilized lands I never appreciated how much of her ranger survival training she's remembered from her life. For all my maps and tomes and research notes she seems the more prepared. She's even brought meat for her hyena in case the hunting is poor. She said she might see if she can train him to answer to a new name while she's up here. "Blight" has sadly taken on some undesired political implications now.
The murmurings I've heard from the Tome of the Accursed since first stepping foot in Northrend seem more eager now. They know I'm coming. I still don't understand what they're saying. I don't even know if the power trying to speak to me is Titan itself, or if it just wants to draw me to a place where the Titan communication disk on the Tome will be stronger. I suppose I'll find out soon enough. Melana has been versed on what to do in case I seem to be falling to a stronger hostile force. I can't imagine it would be, though. It's part of the Tome, and the Tome exists to help us. I would never go so far as to say it is unquestionably a force for "good", but it is if nothing else a force for us.
I miss his frown already. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 31st, 2008|09:37 am] |
I suppose I was wrong in thinking my husband no longer cared for me. He just - as always, really - has a peculiar way of showing it. I tried to assure him that by doing it my way, with ample preparation and control, there won't be a repeat of what happened in Tanaris. I conceded to take one other with me as an assistant, to alert him and the others if anything goes wrong in my spellwork. I'd really rather do it myself, I don't want the interruptions of other people, but he agreed to me taking Miss Melana. She's helped me with my work before, and I can trust her not to try to take advantage of the situation. It will leave me with one fewer to watch Plagos himself, but I suspect Miss Audre can scream loud enough if he tries anything to wake me from any trance.
Now it's just a matter of finishing my preparations. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 30th, 2008|12:47 pm] |
I'm making preparations to leave.
It took me some time to realize that the murmurings I was hearing in Northrend were not that dreaded voice at all, but the Tome itself, and it was only when we started exploring the Iron Dwarf settlements in Grizzly Hills that I put two and two together. There is a strong Titan influence in Northrend, and the plate on the Tome is amplifying it. It's trying to draw me to the Storm Peaks, the mountains north of Grizzly Hills and the troll nation of Zul'Drak. Whatever it's trying to show me, I've learned not to fight against it.
And to be honest it's not like I have much else to do at the moment. My lab is mostly put back together, but we lost so many of our supplies and reagents that it'll be some time before the Apothecarium is properly up and running again. I could study magic in Dalaran, but I find them tolerant at best of the Horde. They feign civility, and they did give us a lovely quarter of the city, but the high elves look on us with their disdainful blue eyes, as though somehow the poor Blood Elves are completely to blame for not having the good fortune to be inside their protective bubble at the second-strongest ley focus in the explored world when the Sunwell was destroyed, and we're worse for being their allies. The humans regard the Forsaken little better, as though there aren't some who were once of their ranks among us, as though they didn't immediately forget that they were once a part of Lordaeron's Alliance when it became distasteful to face what had happened to us. I used to dream of Dalaran, but the politics have spoiled it for me. I'll be raiding it for useful books to take with me, but if I tried to stay for too long I would become even more bitter than I already am.
There's also the fact that I expect Malygos Himself to come along and bat the place down into Icecrown with his vast tail at any moment.
And on top of that the fact that Apothecaries are hardly the most welcome among the Horde itself at the moment. Even in the Horde quarter of Dalaran I get the most horrible looks.
I'm leaving Plagos to maintain the guild in my absence. He would prefer to go with me, but I'm sure he's more concerned about the Tome's safety than my own. I'm hesitant to leave him in command when his sanity is so clearly failing, but Munio is far too busy with his work for the Argent Crusade. I have my agents, Miss Audre and Miss Melana and Dariahn can be trusted to contact me if he tries anything unfortunate. I will, after all, still have the Tome, even if other communications may be drowned out by the Titans and my own spellwork. I'll keep at least a little of myself alert for them.
I wish I could feel that he was concerned with my safety. I'm worried that he's losing his feelings for me along with the rest of his mind. Maybe we need to be apart for a bit, to make him miss me.
It's funny how much more I care about how I look now that that goblin combed out the rat's nest that has been my hair. Not that I'll be able to maintain it well when I'm immersed in my spellwork. |
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[Dec. 22nd, 2008|01:19 pm] |
I'm not even sure where I should start. I just know I need a break to sort things out. Things that are not charred and blackened research notes.
There was an insurrection yesterday. While all the Horde forces that could be spared were at Angrathar preparing for an assault against the Lich King, Varimathras gave Grand Apothecary Putress and his assistants a command to use the Blight not only on the Scourge but on the Horde and Alliance soldiers as well.
I should pause here to admit, as I would only dare in my own locked journal, that for all I was shocked that he would do such a thing to our own allies, I was impressed with the results. I would swear I saw the Lich King himself limping off through the green fog, no doubt feeling it burn as it crept insidiously through the gaps in his armor. It is with deep regret that I acknowledge that this weapon will likely be destroyed as a show of contrition for our Horde allies. It may help rebuild what little trust they ever had in us, but the Blight would be the our best chance of doing any serious damage to the Scourge. Diplomacy may require compromise, but this is throwing the baby out with the bathwater.
But that shall be left for those in a more diplomatic mindset than myself. It was only through the influence of calmer minds than the usual Horde rabble that any of us made it back here to save our own city. The Dark Lady had the wisdom to ask Thrall for aid, and the Warchief had the wisdom to give it, and I can't say a word about the wisdom of anyone under his command but that we heard little but threats, veiled and not so veiled, as we waited for everyone to be rallied to retake our city. So I shall focus on my own little reconstruction and let those like Munio deal with rebuilding our alliances.
My lab space in the Apothecarium has been destroyed, and most of my notes and samples have been torched. A number of loyal Apothecaries were killed by the traitors, and an ever greater number of traitorous ones were killed by the forces retaking the city. We've lost a number of abominations, but Faranell already has the remaining ones propping bookshelves back into place and such. On the subject of which, Orloc was destroyed. He hadn't been right since the Scourge invaded just before we moved into Northrend, and I had no luck contacting his creator to help me sort out exactly what was wrong with him. I went to check on him, and Miss Meganna found us shortly after along with some acquaintance of hers from the Argent Dawn. Varimathras seems to have triggered some latent control spell in Orloc's mind to turn him against me, and there was a terrible fight between them all with the sword and now my poor Orloc is destroyed and Oran is loose. I secured what was left of him in what was left of my lab this morning, but with the phylactery broken it would require someone with more than my insignificant dabblings in necromancy to bring him back, if he even can be brought back without Oran's own essence. I'm considering speaking to one of our Death Knights about it, but I don't think he would be the same with some random human's soul. And if the point is to have an abomination that is not my Orloc, I'd rather build another myself.
It should go without saying that Grand Apothecary Putress was slain for his part in all this, as was Varimathras. It was deeply regrettable that we should lose our most brilliant Apothecary, but such a betrayal cannot be tolerated. I understand why the Dreadlord would do such a thing, but all I can think is that Putress was somehow beholden to him, either for his position or some other fool thing. Why do great minds ever make foolish alliances to perpetrate crimes that they will surely be killed for? I just know that his loss will be a terrible setback for the Royal Apothecary Society. What's left of us.
And I should stop dwelling on all this, at least for the moment. There is far too much work to be done now. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 5th, 2008|11:40 am] |
I am apparently going to have to keep myself to the safety of Venomspite and Dalaran for the time being.
I was sent to Warsong Hold yesterday to gather some more samples from the Nerubians there. I suppose this is as good as place as any to mention that they are laying eggs. When I first heard of it I was convinced that these must be some of the still-living Nerubians, because undead are not capable of reproduction by any means other than turning more of the living into the undead. And I will concede that this may still be the case. I have yet to see any evidence of a gravid undead Nerubian, which leads me to suspect that they may have enslaved some of their few of their race who are still living and forced them to lay eggs, which they then infected.*
And so, as I was saying, I was in Warsong Hold with Plagos gathering samples to study this when I met a sin'dorei mage who said she had been captured by something north of the hold and freed by a group in an encampment there. As a fellow mage this piqued my interest, so Plagos agreed to join me in investigating while arrangements were being made to transport my samples via zeppelin. (I should not be terribly surprised that the goblins would be wary of taking live, so to speak, Nerubian eggs onboard their zeppelin. I should be even less surprised that their wariness was soothed by the application of a sizable amount of gold.) We arrived at the camp to find a contingent of the Kirin Tor fighting against a group of Blue Dragonkin who were kidnapping mages! I had seen the work the Blue Dragonflight had done tearing up the ley lines in the Dragonblight, but I had not realized that they were actually kidnapping my colleagues! Plagos and I offered our assistance, which paid off for him in that he got to torture one of the humans aiding the dragonkin. We had to return to Warsong Hold not too long after to accompany my samples, but once I return to Northrend I will have to be especially careful.
I will admit here that the prospect of all this, of being hunted by dragons of all things, is worrying me. I know that if I disappeared I would be missed, and that Curse would not rest until I was found and freed. Eridra - one of Plagos' Death Knights - reminded me as much when I was fretting out loud over the whole thing last night. There is also the fact that they are capturing them rather than killing them, and Plagos suggested that the kidnapped mages are likely being forced to help with the aforementioned destruction of Northrend's ley lines. It is still daunting to say the least. Dragons! And I am also concerned that Plagos will be a target as well. It may be worth having someone less magically-inclined accompany us when we need to travel. Perhaps Dayvid or Miss Myralle. Or Nether help us Vaien, as he is working for the RAS now. That would still likely go just as poorly as if I asked Miss Meganna.
Perhaps it is due to all the unearthed ley magic there, or perhaps it's something else entirely, but it seems so much quieter in Tirisfal now. Like there's ambient noise when I'm in Northrend that doesn't even register until I return home and it's gone.
*((I am so, so tempted to declare this my own personal canon. It makes like a million times more sense than undead creatures laying fertile eggs.)) |
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[Nov. 25th, 2008|01:56 pm] |
I don't know if I'll ever be able to properly express all the absolutely breathtaking scenes I've found myself part of since first arriving in Northrend just over a week ago. I've paused every so often to try to write down my thoughts and found myself without words. When I first arrived in Vengeance Landing I was awestruck by the massive cliffs along the ocean at the bottom of which our outpost had been built. And what an outpost! Cauldrons of experimental concoctions bubbling beneath metal pillars sparking with energy, magnificent ships with massive skulls on their prows proclaiming them to be unquestionably part of the Dark Lady's own navy, Apothecaries working day and night to perfect our plague to fight whatever might oppose us... It made me wonder if those followers of the Light were right about what comes after, because I would have sworn I had died and found myself there. As Plagos and I moved further inland we found sights no less incredible. The fjord itself, New Agamand, and then most incredibly the city of Dalaran! I've dreamed of seeing Dalaran since learning my first spells! And it was every bit as beautiful as I imagined.
Just as we were starting to push in earnest into Northrend, there were dramatic events playing out among the Scourge forces in the Plaguelands. Unfortunately the only subject I've had a chance to question about it at length has a somewhat confused memory of what actually occurred, so I may have to interview others. What I was able to learn from the younger of the Wheeler siblings was that a necropolis with a large force of Death Knights was moved to attack the Scarlet Crusade settlement behind Tyr's Hand. Our forces in Venomspite have since learned that they may have been putting pressure on the Scarlet forces to move north. But whatever their strategic purpose, they succeeded in their mission and proceeded to Light's Hope. I will need to find better account of what happened at this point, but apparently some form of intervention broke them from the Lich King's control and he abandoned them. Tirion Fordring himself sent them back to their respective leaders with orders to rejoin the fight against the former master. Having known the cold grasp of His control, many of them regardless of what they were in life have begun to pledge themselves to the Dark Lady and identify themselves as Forsaken. Curse has found its forces bolstered by these Knights of the Ebon Blade, and I've delegated their direct oversight to Plagos, in hopes that it will be power enough to sate him for a while. The Lich King's loss is, as always, our gain.
Of course, we will clearly need to keep a close eye on them, if waht Miss Caeryn reported about Miss Solheim is going to be a trend. I really don't think Dariahn has the sense to do much more than follow Plagos' orders, likewise that other troll, and Gahiji - Zul'Tale now - has never been anything but loyal to us. The others will have to be watched, Rivelli most of all. I'll let the Executioner bear the responsibility for him this time. Most of them may well prove themselves to be reliable allies, but I'm wary of taking chances with everything drawing my attention away now.
Vaien wants to aid the Royal Apothecary Society. Of all the things I imagined him wanting my aid in when he contacted me - revealing himself to some surprise to actually be less dead than previously suspected - that seemed the furthest from possibility. He fell back to them, he was released with the rest of these Ebon Blade Death Knights, and it shouldn't bother me so much to think that he really did fall back to them but it does. I have no reason to believe he's not earnest about wanting to actually help us, though. I can tell he is. And perhaps as a colleague I can keep an eye on him this time. Just because he was a fool and broke my heart once doesn't mean I want to see him come to any further harm. Generally. Except perhaps when he's being exceptionally infuriating.
There are interesting times ahead of us indeed. |
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[Nov. 11th, 2008|12:27 pm] |
I have the answers I need. I have a vial of the poison that nearly destroyed Plagos, that would have destroyed him if not for the magic tying his soul to me. I will soon have a concoction to purge it from his body. I also have knowledge of what exactly happened that night.
We are a conflicted people. We are torn between what is left of our humanity and the greater thing we have become. So I was not so shocked as I might be to learn that he was poisoned to thwart an attempt to poison me and usurp my command of Curse. One of our Deathstalkers, Pestilesa, came to me last night to inform me that she had been approached to provide the poison in question, and when she learned of what he intended she turned it on him. She assumed that I would wish to use the rest to completely destroy him.
I am disappointed in him, but not surprised. I wouldn't have married him if I didn't understand him so well. Everything about our relationship is a power struggle, each of us trying to assert ourselves despite our love for each other. I've given up little bits here and there to assuage him, because I know he needs it. It is not easy for him to love someone who stands in his way. And I know it would have been punishment enough to have to spend his eternity without me, even with the power he wanted.
As soon as I have brewed an antidote I will give it to him and Nether willing he will wake. I will tell him that I know what he was intending so he does not think me fool enough to let him try it again. And then I will gladly let him ravish me before we prepare to take the first flight of the new zeppelin to Northrend. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 31st, 2008|12:22 pm] |
It is our anniversary, and my dear, beloved Plagos, dark poison of my heart, is too ill to observe it.
It began last night with a shout heard through the Tome, and he called out for me before falling silent. Hellgaze found him first, lying near death on the floor of the Rogues' Quarter. His aura was impossibly weak, as if he were just barely clinging to this existance. He wasn't wounded, though his robe was torn over my soul-crystal. I knelt over him there, believing that at any moment he would overcome whatever had harmed him and wake up, until the others convinced me to move him somewhere more secure. We took him to my lab in the Apothecarium so I could take a few samples before enlisting some Deathguards to escort us home to Brill. I've put up even more wards here just in case. I worry that the tear in his robe might indicate that we are both in danger.
I had to remain strong for them, but now that I'm alone I can acknowledge how terrified I am. From the moment I saw him limp on the stone floor my heart begged him to wake up. I won't leave his side. I must know the moment he wakes up so I can be free of this torment. But I know he may not wake on his own. I've asked to have some of my laboratory supplies delivered here to our home so I can continue to work on this without going back to the Undercity. It was clear enough from the start that it was either poison or magic, and the lack of residual energy from any sort of magical attack pointed toward the former. My tests have proceeded under that hypothesis.
But precious little I've actually accomplished finding myself having every so often to simply sit down at his bedside and sob. What would he think if he woke to see me like this? Would he be touched by my love or dismayed by my weakness? Likely both. We are such conflicted people. I know I should be working, not just on this but on so very many things, but I can't stand to leave him. He seems so frail without the will to bind the Shadow to him. I can't bear it. |
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[Oct. 28th, 2008|08:52 pm] |
The past several weeks have seen me utterly focused on my work, and I've hardly had an interest in writing anything after spending all day taking research notes in the Apothecarium. But I feel it's worth making a personal entry to mention the sudden political upheavals that have sent the Royal Apothecary Society into an uncharacteristic tizzy.
Last week there was a delivery of plagued grain just like the shipments from Andorhal that sparked the primary outbreak of the Plague at the beginning of the Third War. It began in Booty Bay, though with all the portals and such available to the average adventurer nowadays it immediately spread to the rest of civilization. This sent the RAS into a more characteristic sort of tizzy as we all scrambled to study and, some dared to hope, stop it. The most unsettling part was that the Plague was affecting Forsaken as well as the living, and none of us wanted to hear that voice again. The Plague became stronger over the course of only a few days, and as reports of horrors from Orgrimmar and Thunder Bluff came in we found ourselves increasingly thankful to have city guards who were immune. And then, as we all worked night and day for a breakthrough, inundated with a steady stream of all-too-fresh samples, we were suddenly appointed a new head of the RAS! All the Apothecaries, even the Master Apothecaries, are now to work under this Grand Master Apothecary Putress!
I can only assume our new Grand Master has been working on some special, secret project of Varimathras' all this time, as very few had heard of him and there were rumors that the dreadlord had some hand in his appointment to the position. But if that is indeed the case it almost seems unfair that he has been keeping him all to himself, because he immediately showed himself to be absolutely, breathtakingly brilliant. As Shattrath, having become a hub of sorts for travelers, seemed to have been the most affected, he promptly ordered some of our best, newest equipment shipped through the portals there so he could set up a research camp. Meat wagons full of the remains of the infected were shipped to him there, and within a day he had concocted a cure! The Scourge are still attacking, but the grain has been neutralized and there are no new cases!
There are of course unhappy mutterings that Faranell has been usurped, but I think our Master Apothecary is pleased to be able to do more research and less management. I don't know that I care for the way he seems to treat Faranell as yet another forgettable assistant, but I cannot argue that he deserves such respect. His intelligence astonishes me, and I am reassured to see that he seems to place results above all else. This is not a child pulling the wings off of flies, this is a man determined to do the best for our people, no matter the cost. |
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[Oct. 23rd, 2008|04:07 pm] |
Apothecary Meridith Deathweaver's Laboratory Notes, Page 787
As has certainly by now been documented in the official Deathguard records, yesterday afternoon a shipment of grain of uncertain origin arrived in the goblin port city of Booty Bay in the southern Eastern Kingdoms. The crates had the construction and simple markings common to pre-war Lordaeron, though it is likely these crates and markings are still used in present-day Stormwind, so few theories on their source can be made from that alone. Reports arrived shortly after of living beings who had been exposed to this grain turning into Scourge-like undead creatures, able to spread their condition further with their attacks. At this report I personally travelled there to investigate and brought back samples of the grain to study.
The fact that the contaminant was still potent after what was likely a few hours in the less than hospitable climate of Booty Bay did not lull me into delaying my testing. As soon as I returned to the Apothecarium I was able to procure an appropriate subject to begin. The subject used for this experiment was a human male of approximately 30 years of age, in good physical condition as soldiers of the Scarlet Crusade tend to be. As he had only been in the hands of the Deathguard for a few days he was still in good health. He did not show any immediate symptoms after exposure to the sample, but approximately 10 minutes later he fell to the floor and began writhing, and within moments was showing evidence of undeath. He was unable to escape from his cage despite his strengthened state, so I observed him carefully for some time as he expressed an overwhelming, base drive to maul me. The undead creature seemed to show even less intelligence than your average Scarlet Crusade soldier, showing no interest in trying to find a way out of the cage other than brute force. After observing him for approximately half an hour I found a rat scuttling about and tossed it to my subject, at which point he proceeded to eat the vermin nearly too fast to see. After observing him for one hour, seeing no appreciable change in behavior, I destroyed him in the fashion I have found best for dangerous subjects and swept the ashes into the sewer.
My tests so far have shown that the contaminant is almost certainly the Plague. Apart from the freshness of the grain it is almost identical to samples taken from the silos of Andorhal. The method of transmission being almost identical to that used in Lordaeron would suggest a copycat rather than the Lich King himself, but it is believed none but his own agents have ever been able to reproduce the Plague itself. Even the attempts of the Royal Apothecary Society have been imperfect. It can be inferred that the Lich King, rather than try to surprise us, has fallen back on what has worked before. |
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[Sep. 13th, 2008|01:07 pm] |
It's been quite some time since I've had to worry over some friend caught up in forces beyond their control and in need of a good saving. I'd almost forgotten how...well, distracting, I suppose, it could be. Of course, before I didn't have the responsibility that I do now, nor the work, and I could spare the time and energy. This is presumably why Plagos tells me - has always told me, come to think of it - that a good Forsaken does not need friends. They distract one from one's greater work.
Still, Miss Meganna's friends proved to be a strength, because they wrested the cursed sword from her and brought it back to me. I regret that this whole affair was not nipped in the bud sooner. I regret that it had to reach a point where the young woman felt separated from her own people, thanks in no small part to my own husband. I would argue to him that her belief that she was using the Scourge-cursed sword for the ultimate good is no different from his use of demons and demonic magics, but he is absurdly stubborn. I will simply have to remind him that she is a full and lawful citizen of the Undercity and, if it comes to it, under my protection.
At least I can rest assured that she has found good friends. I know Bloodaxe will watch out for her, and this Blood Knight she has befriended seems to properly care for her. I can feel Oran's anger at being thwarted in whatever scheme he had planned for poor Meganna emanating from the sword, but the magical wards I placed on it will keep him from contacting her. And once again I can focus on my work. |
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| ((I am stealing Tchann's meme!)) |
[Sep. 2nd, 2008|11:31 am] |
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((Pick a character of mine, then go here to generate 5 random numbers between 1 & 100. Comment with the character name and the five numbers, and I'll answer the five corresponding questions from this list.)) |
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| ((Introducing...!)) |
[Aug. 8th, 2008|06:52 pm] |
Overseer,
I wanted to inform you that Father Darkheart and I have arrived at Ghost Walker Post in Desolace without incident. I found Maurin Bonesplitter right away, working in one of the tents that comprise the Post, but he doesn't seem to have ever gotten the message regarding your request for samples, so it will be at least a few days until I can return with those. The delay is no inconvenience to us, though, as this place has proven as beneficial to my training as he promised. Much of the region is simply barren desert, but there are areas here where the Shadow seems almost tangible. These places tend to be overrun by demons, but that just gives me something on which to practice my marksmanship. I'm still not as good as I used to be, but I am steadily relearning. It'll be some time before I'm able to join my Dark Ranger sisters in Northrend, but I am focused on being ready to go there with our main forces. While Putrias and I wait we have offered our services to the Horde forces here, who as I'm sure you're aware are dealing with hostile centaur clans. Their concerns seem inane in the face of the Scourge threat, but it's not a bad place to cut my teeth, so to speak.
Alison's advice on maintaining this body has been sound so far, and as I write this I am sunning myself outside the Post. Hopefully the Tauren and Orcs and whatnot here aren't too scandalized by the display of pale dead skin. The beach in the nearby Troll village seems more appropriate, but I worry about the ocean air. Perhaps I'll write to her about it. It's starting to show some slight decomposition, but I'm hoping that developing my connection to the Shadow slows it to the rate of what any other Forsaken would experience. We have proven that it is, after all, simply mind and magic over matter. I have decided to have my face patched up when I return, could you tend to it if you have a spare moment? It doesn't have to match, I'm just concerned about rotting around the edges, and sometimes the loose bits fall into my vision when I'm trying to aim my bow.
The warlock Rivelli continued to be elusive up until my departure, and I apologize that I was not better able to track him. If he truly is a Scourge agent and not just a madman it's possible he has been away reporting to his masters. I will keep up as best I can from here. A man's greatest weakness, even a dead man, is often a woman's kindness, so a letter to him may be in order as well. I will keep you posted.
-Melana Stormlight
P.S - Remind me when I return to tell you about the companion I've found here. I know you're interested in magical creatures, but it would require a letter all its own. |
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[Aug. 6th, 2008|04:08 pm] |
The Tome has
Miss Alison has
I shouldn't feel put out that one of the forces entwined with the Tome of the Accursed has chosen to communicate with someone other than me. I've had enough trouble with the thing using me as a pawn to get where it wants to be. I'm sure it had some entirely valid reason to choose Miss Alison. Her link to the Shadow is strong, and she seems kind enough if it's simply a lonely spirit. I am of course concerned that it seems a bit pushy. I hope it wasn't a mistake to advise her to listen to it, if cautiously.
I would like to think if it was Overlord Ghrast he would speak to me first, or Plagos. All my attempts to communicate with it through the Master have been met with silence.
It had better not be C |
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[Jul. 7th, 2008|04:07 pm] |
Busy busy busy...
The Apothecarium has quieted down somewhat as we wait for more samples and initial test results from our scouts in Northrend, so I've been pouring myself instead into the tomes my husband has picked out as appropriate for someone at my level of study. Most of his tomes focus on demonology, which surprises me not at all. I suppose it is especially important to have a detailed knowledge of something you intend to enslave and command when it is something intelligent, though I would question whether that applies to the imp. Or the voidwalker. Perhaps the felhound will be smarter. I find myself not terribly interested in them myself. I'm more interested in the bits addressing more powerful fire magic than mages prefer to meddle with. It's enough that I have Curse under my command, I don't need a bunch of unruly demons as well. Not that it stopped Overlord Ghrast, or Plagos himself. Much of warlock magic seems to focus on control, and I feel like I'm in control of quite enough already.
I need to stop analyzing everything as a possible sign that I'm not meant for this kind of leadership. I'm doing fine.
We've been growing slowly but steadily, taking on a few others since Miss Alison. One is yet another elf, a banshee this time, though she's recently claimed a body and started training as a dark ranger. So another Special Case. There are rather few dark rangers left these days, so I'm not sure exactly who she's training under. The Dark Lady and Nathanos Blightcaller hardly have the time to take on students. I believe, however, that arrangements were made for her to train to some extent with the Farstriders in Silvermoon. I need to speak with Father Darkheart about the more Forsaken aspects of her training. It is my impression that dark rangers traditionally replace their lost link with nature with Shadow magic, and, despite all the warlocks in our ranks, I think he would be the best among us to teach her that. I'm sure she's familiar enough with the Shadow, she's not some fresh-risen thing, but having spoken to her I think she's hardly been out of the Undercity since the war, much less fought anything. Though Plagos says he's hardly been out of the Undercity as well. Perhaps we'll boot them both out of their complacence. We'll need all we can get when we start sending people north. I should also speak with Filippos regarding her unusual training, having been quel'dorei himself. Hopefully he'll be around for the meeting.
I have also been considering using her to check up on Miss Meganna, who I found out from the Deathguards has returned to serving in Silvermoon City. Nothing about Orloc has led me to suspect anything is wrong, but I'd like to keep track of her nonetheless. If the banshee is already traveling to Silvermoon for training it will arouse no suspicion.
Poor woman, she's only just joined and I'm using her as a workhorse. But I am more inclined to trust one of Sylvanas' own banshees than most of the Forsaken in our ranks. Not that I particularly distrust any of them, especially now that Orloc's creator has disappeared, but...I suppose what I'm really hoping for is someone who is loyal to me specifically, who will not try to undermine me or my authority. One who meets all those criteria and does not drip on themselves constantly and can understand commands more complicated than "Kill that man." Not to say that Orloc does not have his uses, but I have high hopes. She was sent to us with instructions to obey, after all. Though it would be nice if the powers that be would simply speak to us first instead of just sending their special projects to Brill for an interview. Or...whatever Varimathras expected when he sent his abomination to find us. |
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[Jun. 11th, 2008|02:48 pm] |
I have told the Executioner far too many times that he needs to learn to be civil to those under our command. I know I haven't a chance of convincing him that tact is something worth putting effort into, but I knew there would come a point where his simple, offhand cruelty would drive otherwise loyal Forsaken from our folds. Not to mention that Miss Audre seemed more often than not to be the only one who understood that the point hosting the Gallows was diplomacy and not using our allies as test subjects for our new poisons. If things carry on as they have, if I have to spend every evening there holding the rest of Curse back from gnawing on Tauren like starving, slavering curs without even one voice in my favor, I may have to simply give up on the idea of us comporting ourselves like civilized beings. I appreciate fresh meat as much as any of them, but I have the restraint to know who is an ally and who is an enemy. Do they really think we can stand against the Scourge alone, even with our plague? At least the Dark Lady knows the value of our alliances. Perhaps sharing that alone makes me the best choice to lead Curse after all.
At least Orloc tries.
Not that I don't feel special to be the only one in all of existence that can inspire kindness in my husband's cold, shriveled heart, but it would make my job so much easier if he could at least keep his cruelty towards everything else to himself.
I can only hope Miss Alison is half as good as Miss Audre was. |
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