Uncertain Path

With Mirtai recovering, I queried her for information on the enemy. It was as gentle a questioning as I could manage; Urukha has suggested that I try to be less intimidating to her. Mirtai’s unnatural origins may not have shielded her from the demon’s torment, but she is still the one with the most direct knowledge on the subject. Not simply for her time within the nightmares, but for what she is. Or was. A demoness herself.

She offered helpful insight into the enemy’s likely whereabouts, and the abilities that we have not seen fully displayed. She also spoke more of how Viere was destroyed. This topic was uncomfortable for both of us. I have mentioned before how Viere was unliving, and sought to restore as many senses and pleasurable vestments of his stolen mortality as he could. This desire, Mirtai said, he received fully. And then he was killed.

I am still concerned that there are more machinations in place than can be seen, but the enemy is not invulnerable. The task now is to plan the assault with as much possibility of succeeding as can be calculated.

To do this, I may need to seek assistance from the sort of person that I habitually and rightfully distrust. A warlock. 

Collective Inaction

I mentioned that I was puzzled by the reaction of the Tribe when Kruega returned to them safely after his unexpected venture into Elwynn Forest.

Though Kruega stood there with little more than his underthings, and mentioned he had not the money to pay for a flight home, none of the Tribe offered to take him on their own transport. Thus, I did. This I had thought, after determining that he was not damaged, would be the next clear goal in restoring him. To ensure that he was taken back to guarded lands, and reunited him with his possessions and funds.

But it seems that this goal, as with many other proprieties and good manners, I am more concerned with details than most.

For a time I have considered this, and believe that it may be due to there being so many members of the Tribe. They form a collective of individuals that pool and share responsibility. The more that share, the less is required of each individually. This expands to the extent that some may decide not to contribute at all, because they assume that another will fulfill the task. Thus, someone like Kruega, who is well liked, may have his needs forgotten.

It is similar to when a man does not offer his cloak to a lady that is shivering with cold. It may seem to be a small matter, but is involved in a greater tapestry. I may notice these smaller weaves because Viere’s neglect trained me to pay mind to basic logistics and priorities, and to abandon stratospheric goals for the sake of survival. To not rely on any other to provide what I lacked.

The Tribe faces a great challenge now, and cannot ignore details by depending on the collective. Each must show strength. And consider those aside from themselves.

Kruega Riverwatcher

He is a Tauren bull, with cream colored fur. Currently he is an initiate of the Tribe, as Lord Sunderflame is, and Pip is his mentor. We first met at a Tribal dinner and game party of sorts. He is sensitive to Sin’dorei and others that carry fel energies on them, in that he wrinkles his nose and sneezes.

Kruega is a Sunwalker. A Tauren that has learned to utilize the Light as a paladin or priest does. He trained in Northrend recently, and expressed his astonishment when meeting the Taunka, the native tribe there. In personality, he demonstrates himself as a kind, if naïve sort. I have the impression that he will make a fine protector for someone when he chooses to.

He had disappeared after attending a Tribe event that was full of alcohol and distraction, and woke in Elwynn Forest. Had I known of this, I would have spent more time there searching for him specifically. But he managed his way back to Orgrimmar over several days. When he did, I was present with Urukha. I was puzzled by her reaction and others of the Tribe when they learned that he had returned and gathered about to speak to him. But I may write more on that later.

Regardless, I transported him to Piki’alo so that he could retrieve his belongings and rest in a safe location should he wish. Mayhem, my drake, did not appreciate the extra weight. But at the least Kruega had been secured. He conveyed his gratitude multiple times on the journey there and apologized for Mayhem’s discomfort.

Feralas

Good morning, journal.

After the Regent and I were attacked by two Night Elf scouts in the Stonetalon Mountains some weeks ago, I ventured to Feathermoon Stronghold in Feralas see if I could discover anything to explain the ambush. Pip had said that she would lead a group there, but I did not hear of any raid, and did not participate if there was. Mostly, I wished to confirm the Regent’s assumption that there was not a greater scenario.

I slipped into their tree there, where records were kept. Unfortunately, everything was in Darnassian. So finding something of use was the first challenge, and translating it was the second. Some time was required. But I was satisfied with the result. 

The parchment indicated that the ruins we encountered were to be excavated by Feathermoon, and the scouts were posted to ensure the Horde did not damage the site. We simply walked into it and were treated appropriately.

I sent the map as well as the translation to the Regent.

Visit to the Vanguard

I traveled to the Argent Vanguard in Northren to visit Nemeiah. She had stated that it would not offend anyone if I did, and during our exchange of letters it was plain that we each had things we wished to report to the other. There has been some difficulty there during the Bishop’s crusade. But thus far, Nem has not been called to the Necropolis to battle.

To be truthful, I was very glad to sit with her and chat. As when Tyr’s Hand was under quarantine, I disliked being restrained from seeing her whenever I wish.  It is a bit selfish, perhaps, but her company is unique and calming.

We were interrupted once by one of the Bishop’s men, Archer. He seems to delight in abrasiveness for the sake of irritating his company. But I was a guest, and Nemeiah was too polite to shoo him off. He and another asked if I would join the venture into the Necropolis later in the evening, and I declined. Nem was the sole reason I returned to Northrend. He eventually decided to leave of his own accord; I believe because we were not entertaining enough in our silence.

When we were left alone, I told her of one of the more recent dizzy spells, or “visions” as she calls them. It was one of the fire ones, where I was trapped within a burning building, and experiencing all of the unpleasantness associated with that. But, she observed that I carry no legacy of burns, so this could not have been a “death memory.” I agreed, because I remember the sort of wounds that were present when I was raised.

She also thanked me again for providing Nunuru with care and company during her absence. I may write more of him at another time. And while not everything there is comfortable and clear, she seems to be safe and there are some things there at the Vanguard she enjoys. She does not seem to regret the mission despite the challenge and cold.

Untitled #1

"Do not doubt yourself, or agonize over mercies which you offered in past.  You are my champion, dear one, and I would have no other."

True Self

I have heard several individuals, particularly Westel, answer “Because with them I can be my true self,” when asked how they knew that they were in love with someone. I find this statement puzzling. Are we not ourselves not matter who we are with? Westel could not transform into Kruega, or Whiteclaw, for example. But it is the “True” part that I wish to examine here.

Perhaps, I thought, the better word would be “Unguarded.” Being intimately comfortable with someone, one might allow behaviors considered more light-hearted, and vulnerable. But there is an issue with this as well. Even under these conditions, one would not wish to offend their beloved with childish or wild, barbaric manners. A filter on one’s behavior yet exists.

So, what about “Selective.” The way one acts around one’s beloved is exclusive to them, and is not seen around one’s other acquaintances. For example, affection is applied to one’s lover when it would not be with say, one’s commander. At this, we have journeyed far from “True.” Because this implies that one is not genuine with either the beloved, or the rest of the world. But is that so? Could both behaviors be genuine?

I believe so. “True self,” is far too problematic and romantic. The traits one exhibits to a stranger, an acquaintance, a friend, and a lover are different. Some may be tailored and manipulated for the situation, or as social circumstances dictate. The emotions behind these interactions can be sincere. Or they can be the opposite out of necessity to survive.

Because of this, I argue that there is no “True Self,” only the self of the moment. Bound by duty, love, and society, and so on.

Val'tirus Sunderflame

He is an Elven man with long, dark red hair, and is one of the current initiates of the Tribe. By his lengthy, thoughtful pauses in conversation as well as being one of the few to demonstrate politeness (however awkwardly applied at times), I surmise that he is a scholar of some noble descent.

The curious thing regarding Lord Sunderflame is his fascination with death knights. Initially, this interest was interpreted by some, including myself, to be of amorous origins. Aevelina even approached me on one occasion to state that Val’tirus would likely speak to me regarding relations. When he did not, I initiated the conversation and he claimed that his interest was intellectual and platonic.

Both Urukha and the Regent do not believe that assertion.

Last night I agreed to sit and answer his questions regarding my kind. Though I declined to have any senses physically tested, such as sight, smell and hearing. He respected this. His inquiries pertained to my viewpoints, health, and abilities as a death knight. I found the questions oddly vague, as though part of the test was how I would interpret each. He asked me to not share his analysis, and frankly I could not because he did not say much regarding it at all. Aside from death knights being “misunderstood.” I found this view ironic because Sunderflame is a warlock.

Thinking on the conversation and his remarks, I begin to grow wary that his fascination is more than simple research. I calculate that my part in this is minor, though, and that the real focus is on something from his past.

Masked

Mirtai took some time to rest before relating the suffering experienced during her lengthy slumber. She and Mira were trapped together by the enemy in darkness, and tormented for what seemed to them, months. Ultimately, Mira was not strong enough to endure. But she passed some part of herself to Mirtai. A precise description of the torture involved I do not wish to record.

Mirtai’s account reminded me of the one detail regarding the enemy I had tried to ignore. Part of Viere’s final act, I suppose. The form that the enemy has chosen.

His grief, Nathan has kept masked. There was no doubt of his affection for Mira, and of hers in return. He will not speak of his emotions and I have not pressed him. My own would likely surface, but I do not wish for him, or Mirtai, to see this. It is also why I do not seek counsel from any outside of this house for now. I am supposed to be the strong one. The soldier. Their protector. 

Discretion

Sometimes we are not stronger because of bravery, or victory, or threat of injury. We are stronger because there is someone to protect. We are selfish creatures that avoid unnecessary pain, but will cast ourselves into flames if it would save a loved one.

A man alone can lift a pebble. But if his mate is in danger, he will lift a mountain. A soldier can raise her shield to hide from a rain of arrows, but will hold it above her comrade’s wounded head first. Someone utterly terrified of death will take a lover’s place to satisfy Hell’s call.

But one must not invite Hell to make that dreaded call. Or choose to set the house ablaze and endanger one’s family. Discretion is also protection, selecting battles that are necessary and not frivolous. Or foolish. Otherwise you only bring about destruction that could have been avoided.

The Lord of this manor made a terrible bargain and his family paid the price. I watch the Tribe and wonder if they do the same. I must also judge my own actions and plans.

Timeline

Journal, this is a rough account of the events leading to this point, according to my understanding. I record it here to settle my thoughts and focus on the trial ahead.

Some decades ago, the Lady of this manor was ill. Her husband, the Lord, consulted with the enemy in order to cure her. She was saved, but when the Lord could not make payment, the enemy killed everyone on the manor, and trapped three souls here. The Lady, the daughter, Mira, and the Goodman Nathan. I suspect that Nathan's haunting was not deliberately forced, but the result of trauma.

Over a year ago, I left Viere. He sought new and more dangerous summoning methods.

D.A. and I left Felwood and moved to the remnants of the manor. We may have been drawn here.

Viere grew desperate and summoned a powerful demon, the same one the Lord bargained with. It killed him. It stripped Mirtai of her form and abilities and placed her within the body of the daughter, Mira.

Mirtai sought me out. I agreed to protect her and eventually brought her into this house. It is likely she was also drawn unknowingly to this place, because Mira’s soul was here and the body sought reunification.

Odd happenings began in the barn, and then recently, the ghost of Goodman Nathan appeared. He was hostile at first, not realizing that he and the rest that resided here had died. He mistook Mirtai for Mira. The Lady, now a twisted shadow-spectre, appeared and threatened us all. She was trapped and believed she could only be freed by killing Mirtai or stealing Mira’s spirit.

We uncovered Mira’s soul held within the black phial. Mirtai opened it and Mira was restored to her body. The shadow-spectre attacked and was trapped within the phial. Mira and Nathan agreed that they do not belong in this time or realm, and wish to pass over together.

D.A. began the spell to let them cross, and the enemy interrupted. It struck down D.A., and Mirtai/Mira fell into an unnatural sleep. Nathan was restored to a mortal frame, and is no longer a ghost.

The three of us, D.A., Nathan and I convened and resolved to defend ourselves, and destroy the enemy. Then, Mirtai woke. She seemed to be the one in control of the body, with no direct sign of Mira. Nathan, distraught, fled for a time but returned. He is determined, as I am now, to punish the enemy.

The planning continues. Scanning over these events, it does seem as though chess pieces were being moved without my notice. I worry that I am still blind to more.

Expressive

Nemeiah has honored my request to send letters during her duty in Northrend. I was quite glad to receive them, and have been diligent in giving reply. Curiously, she seems as content or more to express both positive and negative sentiments through written communication.

It reminds me of something that D.A. mentioned when we celebrated our anniversary. This was in response to my poor performance in articulating my appreciation, and resorting to simple phrases. D.A. told me that it was sometimes easier to be eloquent when writing, rather than speaking, when it comes to important things. The spoken word did not always do justice to the feelings or desire.

While I would still prefer to visit Nem, I intend to remain away, in accordance with her wishes. In the meantime, her rotund pet feline certainly is proving to be an interesting charge. Though it is better behaved than the shadow-kitten in this house.

Disobedient

After Nem went to prepare for the journey to the Vanguard, I spoke to the Bishop about my disobedience. That is, when he commanded Roeth and me to remain at Tyr’s Hand during the quarantine and I flew away before being captured.

Roeth obeyed the decree. The Bishop expressed his fury at me and threatened that if I “pull something like that again,” I would be banished from Tyr’s Hand. Like the boorish Knight and his schizophrenic dragon-woman. As though I was no better than them.

It was difficult to restrain my own anger with him, and not just for this criticism. I had escaped the quarantine so that I could provide protection to my household. But more important than our disagreement on my behavior is our agreement on Nem. I will simply hope that he does not again do something that brings her harm and distress. And that he keeps his word that he would not bring her to the Scourge Necropolis.

Update #6

I delivered the book, “The Last True King of Lordaeron,” to the Regent. She was, as expected, in a great hurry to attend to her brood, as she sometimes calls the Tribe, but I was pleased that she paused a few minutes to meet and receive it. My hope is that it will provide a pleasant diversion. It seems that it may be some time before we are able to enjoy another outing.

The reason for this being that the trouble surrounding the Tribe and this “darkness” has accelerated. Westel told me that the Regent met with the devious Spider spirit, and I do not understand why she did. But I am only a simple soldier and have little knowledge of the supernatural, bargains, or strategy.

Nemeiah left Tyr's Hand to join the Bishop at the Argent Vanguard in Northrend. Her purpose will be to assist the wounded, and, as I was later informed, prepare for the return of the ones who will go to topple a Scourge Necropolis. She seemed worried about Icecrown, and the ravages of war still visible there. I tried to reassure her. I believe that it is good for her to challenge herself and her abilities, rather than seclude herself in the abbey. As long as she returns safely, of course.

I asked if I would be permitted to visit, and she determined that it would best if I did not. I urged her to write me so that I would not worry. That amused her. In return, she asked if I would maintain and care for her obese feline companion, Nunuru, while she was away. I agreed with reluctance. 

Awake

Mirtai finally woke from her unnatural slumber. She returned to consciousness in violent fashion, and Nathan and I restrained her limbs while D.A. utilized magic to fully rouse her. Upon waking, Mirtai instantly became distressed and wept, pleading for Nathan to forgive her, because she “tried to save her.”

Of course, she meant Mira. Mirtai is in full command of the body, and Mira’s fate is not known. It is not likely that her spirit was permitted to pass in peace. Nathan, understandably upset, stormed from the room and I later could not find him within the borders of the property. But at the least, he did not take his firearms with him in that state.

D.A. encouraged Mirtai to sleep again, this time in normal, restful manner. We determined that at the same time my beloved had resisted the enemy in the darkness of mind, he was also tormenting Mirtai (and possibly Mira). Hence, his divided attention. When D.A. woke, all of that malice focused on Mirtai for a prolonged period of time. We do not yet know how much this has affected her. It will be a struggle, again, to recover.

Storytime: Apples

Last night was Pip's festival of apples. But before it could begin, the Tribe meeting lasted far too long, and I came upon the time to return home before I was able to participate and give the story I had prepared. So, journal, I record it for you here, because it will not be heard now.

-------

Once, there was a lovely garden of apple trees, and they had just begun to bear fruit. One fruit, a magnificent red apple, shone with color brighter than all the rest.

“I will be the greatest apple in this orchard,” it thought to itself. “For there is none more beautiful than I.” And it was true. No other apple was quite as fine as this one, and all of the other apples loved it.

But that night, a great storm fell upon the orchard, and many leaves and branches were lost to the wind. The beautiful apple was knocked from its tree and fell onto the ground. When the sun rose, the apple grieved only briefly, for it still shone a brighter, more luscious red than any other. 

“I am on the ground now,” it thought. “But I am still the most beautiful apple in this orchard.”

As the run rose higher and the ground dried from the storm, worms crept out and began to eat the fallen apple. Helpless, it was holed through and hollowed to the core. But the apple did not despair. “I may no longer be the most beautiful,” it thought, “but here, in this orchard, I am yet among my kind and am loved.”

When night fell again, the crows picked over the ravaged orchard, and one of them plucked up the fallen apple, now but a core, and carried it away. For miles it flew, far beyond the boundaries of its home.

Then, the crow dropped the apple on a distant hill, alone.

The apple wept, for now it had lost its beauty, its home, and those that loved it. It was no longer bright and red. It was no longer among its kind. It sat there through the night, crying to the moon in anguish.

The moon, hearing the cries, turned and looked down upon the apple. “Why do you weep?” she asked.

“Oh moon,” the apple replied. “I have lost my beautiful red color, my family, and now I am all alone. There is nothing left but to weep.”

“You have one thing yet to give,” the moon smiled. “Be at peace, little apple. For where you lay is good soil, and you will see the greatness within.”

The apple halted its tears, and waited. And when the sun rose in the morning, its seeds fell onto the earth. From those seeds, a mighty apple tree sprouted. It was the finest, largest apple tree that has ever grown. And bore the brightest, reddest fruit of any in the world.

So, while we may not know what design is made for us, we should not despair when hardships rise. They are but markers, pauses on the journey to what you will become. For no matter our appearance, it is in all of us that greatness resides.

Literature Exchange

I delivered to Nemeiah the scroll of Shu’halo mythology, according to the Regent’s wishes. It is called “Mists of Dawn,” and describes in vague, metaphorical manner the origination of the Tauren.  The Earthmother that looked down upon the world with one eye open at a time, either the sun or the moon, and the shadow of her hand that gave rise to the first tribes.

This I understand as fiction and not history. Though the two often overlap. As they do also, I assume, in the book that Nemeiah gave me to deliver to the Regent. It is written in Common, so I cannot read it, but she said the title was “The Last True King of Lordaeron.” The cover is inlaid with gold and the edges of the pages as well. This ornateness may signify the respect that the Scarlets (the former residents of Tyr’s Hand) possessed for the king of topic, Terenas Menethil.

What remains now is to deliver this book to the Regent. Whenever we are not both occupied.

Prescribed Happiness

The purpose of the enemy’s attack on my beloved seems to have been to neutralize the passing-over spell for Mira and Nathan, and to inflict torment. Fighting against his power in nightmare and the difficulty after qualify as suffering. That time I sat alone and waited for my darling to wake also qualified.

Wards, incantations, occult techniques, and physical guard protect this house. But in the defense of minds, emotions are weapons. The enemy desires pain. We desire contentment. I draw on my beloved’s suggestion, when I asked how to take revenge on a dead man. The one who had caused me so much pain. The blade of choice: happiness, to spite the anger, the fear and the hurt.

So I make every effort to that end. Do the small and great things that raise spirits, all in order to defy a demon.

I wonder what Viere would have said to that.

Surrounded

D.A. has experienced frequent headaches and pains since the enemy’s assault, and only recently described what had happened during those dark hours of unconsciousness. Nightmares. A blackness that surrounded and threatened, and required constant effort to fight against. My beloved sensed that the demon was distracted on multiple fronts however, and had it not been, it may have been impossible to resist. I regret that I could not intercept it.

And now, Nemeiah has been attacked by the same thing accosting the Bishop. She isolated herself in her room at the abbey for days while the Bishop supposedly scampered about to find a solution. I am quite displeased with him for failing to protect her. Though it may have been as it was with my beloved, and not possible to prevent. I worry about its effects on Nem and the palpable lack of support. She has not mentioned any other that offers care or comfort.

If this was not enough, the Tribe is contending with an unknown entity, which they call “darkness.” Apparently, it has caused many members to fall ill, caused disruption (and oddly, sent letters). This may explain strange occurrences with Westel, Pip and Urukha, but my space grows too short to write of those at this moment. The Tribe entertained the idea of bargaining with a Spider spirit in order to find more information on this entity, and who of their number had been “infected.”

So many dark developments touching those around me. I do not think all of these evils are related, however. But that is not encouraging.

What Am I to You

The Regent and I had the chance to resume our interrupted conversation at Piki’Alo, the Tribe homeland. She seemed to prefer an active recovery for the arrow wound and had been flying about on her wyvern.  We walked on the protected paths to chat. But the discussion became uncomfortable when the topic of privacy and personal disclosure rose, and our mutually reinforced ambiguity deepened the confusion. And incited our tempers.

Ultimately, I sought from her the assertion that I was not solely utilized as a source of entertainment. As I was used with Decie and Leahndri; they were only interested in gathering social information. And while it is not entirely sensible to compare the Regent to a pair of gossips, they were not the only ones I was thinking of. Viere was authority. So is the Regent. I worried that the self-gratification of one I had replaced with the other.

Compounding this issue is that when two souls that know the game require a sincere admission of motivation, it is more challenging to extract it. It did take a few rounds of verbal fencing for something substantial to emerge.

But I was satisfied. In return for the reassurance of respect, I confessed why I defer to her. Then, the banter resumed as though nothing had happened. She also gave me the first of the Shu’halo story scrolls, which I now read at her behest. 

Shared

Sometimes, we do what we must for those we love. The weight they carry, we lift. If we cannot lift it alone, we share.  This is what D.A. diligently (if sometimes bluntly) tells me to do with my own troubles.

More was destroyed by the Lich King than cities and lives. My beloved tried to restore what was lost, but the attack, now over a year ago, interrupted the recovery. I cannot mend it all. But I will bend my body until it breaks, if it would help.

Rapid Descent

Yesterday the Regent and I went for another outing to a place of my choosing; this time, the northwestern reaches of the Stonetalon Mountains. I intended to use a steeply descending path there as means to employ her energy, and to raise a point. That some things are better not rushed, or else they shatter from the fall. My intent was to gently critique the manner in which she pressed me for personal information. But this message was lost to what happened next.

A pair of Night elf rangers ambushed us as we stood by a cliff. The Regent received an arrow to the shoulder, and when I moved to block the rest, I was struck in the chest. The rangers had the advantage of cover and altitude, and our options were few. At her urging, we grabbed hold of each other and jumped from the cliff.

The fall did not break us, but it also did not slow our attackers. I entreated her to remain hidden at the base while I attracted fire, drawing the pair of rangers down into my range. One of them I tangled with violently, the other the Regent distracted and disarmed, then beat with her own bow.

She summoned the Tribe. Vivvienne and star-dancer Adurak arrived first, changing the advantage and killing the one I grappled. Pip followed soon after and between their magic and blows, dispatched the second. A pair of healers came next, the gypsy-Forsaken Blanche and Quanah the druid, summoned by the Regent’s voice to treat us.

The rangers carried a symbol of Feathermoon, and so Pip plans to scout and possibly exact revenge there. I intend to assist as able.

Quarantine

The quarantine has been lifted from Tyr’s Hand, and I was able to chat with Nemeiah. When I was last there, though, I was forced to depart in a rush.

The Bishop ordered that I would not be permitted in to visit Nem, and when I asked if there was anything I could assist with, he requested that I fly up above the courtyard and speak to Roeth, who was loitering there. I did so, and explained to him the quarantine, the risk, and that the Bishop did not want us to enter.

Roeth immediately concluded that Cultists were behind the trouble, and demanded that I bring him to the Bishop. I did so, and the Bishop greeted our arrival with many words not befitting a holy man. When he announced that neither Roeth nor I could leave, I flew off.

I visited Nem once during her isolation, simply to offer greetings and well-wishes. I was glad to see her and I believe she felt the same, but she shooed me away to avoid aggravating the others. Yesterday, the restrictions were removed and she came to Orgrimmar. Having more time to speak, I told her that I had disobeyed the Bishop. She understood, ascertaining that I did so out of concern for my beloved.

She also told me what she knew of the trouble that prompted the quarantine and asked that I not spread that information. I agreed to the request.

Nathan

Goodman Nathan and I had a bit of a chat this morning. It occurred to me that we did not introduce ourselves under pleasant conditions (he was aiming a gun at me), and if we are to work together to fight this demon, we should know a little more of each other. Though he knows my name, for the time being, he defers to me as "Captain."

First, we agreed that were no lingering grievances between us. Despite the initial hostility. Neither of us understood what had occurred and were defending ourselves.

Then, we made our acquaintance. He did not know what a death knight was. Granted, he died during a time when they did not exist; though precisely how long ago that was I am not certain. D.A. has the exact date, I am sure. He was born on this property and worked here, inheriting his father’s positions as Hunt-Master and Stablemaster for his Lord. He had a sister, who was killed with the rest of those destroyed by the bad bargain.

His relationship with Mira I did not press far into, aside from enough to understand that it was significant, but not official. In turn, I informed him of my pairing with D.A. Nathan was--- he had apparently already realized it was not “strictly professional,” between us and admitted that he found the pairing odd. I believe that our difference in rank he may be more sympathetic to, because of his own feelings for Mira.

My impression of him on the whole is that he is an honest, earnest man who has much, or more to grieve in this situation than D.A. or I. He lost all that he knew, including his Lord and family, and the last possible vestige of that remains in her unnatural sleep. I hope that she wakes soon.

Loyalty

Loyalty is faith to a person, a group or an ideal, placing the preservation of another above one’s own temptations and interests. It is a commitment, uttered through oath, or kept silent in the mind. Yet however it is cited in ceremony, loyalty cannot be demonstrated through ritual, or loud proclamation.

Like courage, loyalty is measured solely when challenged. Otherwise, it only a word. 

We all demand it to varying degrees because it is a promise of support and stability within a dangerous, uncertain world. It is not always consciously commanded. Nor is it effortlessly deserved. But if loyalty is given, it must be expected in equal measure.

Goodman Nathan, as an example, was so faithful to his Lord (or to the Lord’s daughter, I would argue) that his presence persisted here beyond death. Even now, torn from the time he knows and with Mira’s fate undetermined, he remains at her bedside and protects this place without complaint. She, in the brief time she appeared, seemed to hold him in the same high regard.

But this balance is difficult to achieve, and many times is not at all. Westel is a recent case. From the information he gave, I calculate that his and his lover’s definitions of fidelity are incompatible. One cannot both have, and refrain. One definition must conquer the other. As a different example, I questioned Urukha's application of loyalty some months ago. I tried to have her consider that balance between what is given, what is taken, and what is still held for those no longer relevant. And she chose to support Pip. 

As for me, to the Tribe and to the Regent I have declared fealty. The Regent has since claimed it in official capacity, and it is one of the few formalities recognized by both of us. Then, there is my darling. I cannot look upon it without partiality; my devotion cannot be sufficiently expressed in ink.

The Enemy

"Do not tamper with my machinations, little ones, lest I visit the despair upon you which you deserve!"

That was the threat given us as D.A.’s incantation over Mira and Nathan was halted violently. The voice did not belong to any mortal. It belonged to a Nath’rezim.

Of demons I have written before, journal, and will not sport with your bookish intelligence regarding them. For my purpose in ink, Nath’rezim, or Dreadlords in Orcish, are a terrible combination of intelligence, power, and malice. All demons seek destruction. Some are cunning enough to craft intricate plans and webs of deception to increase suffering, as Varimathras and Mal’Ganis did.

Why Viere was secure enough to think he could raise this Of course I know why he did. He was a fool. He lost his most effective toy weapon and, according to Mirtai, wished to regain it. This is what killed him. 

Fun

Yesterday the Darkmoon Faire opened its island to visitors again, and Urukha and I traveled there so that I might acquire the edibles available only during this time. She had been to the Faire once before with a large group of Tribe. I have visited with D.A., taking advantage of the open atmosphere.

After securing the baked goods, I confessed to Urukha that I was not permitted to play the cannon game. My beloved forbade it during our date due to the danger. I have raised the topic later in a joking fashion, and am consistently rebuffed in good humor. Urukha, however, after trying the cannon (and withstanding damage by falling short of the target), insisted that I play.

I refused. I told her that I would not, unless she deposited me down into the barrel and fired the device against my will. Urukha took this as an invitation and did precisely that. I landed in the water some hundreds of meters away, and she met me on the docks with an insufferable expression of triumph.

It was fun, I admitted. Though I implored her to not tarnish my reputation with the others, particularly Westel, by reporting that I succumbed to it. Death knights are designed to spread war and suffering, not to enjoy games. But for a few moments, when the ache in my body dulled, and unbidden grin conquered my face, everything seemed lighter.

Oh, and I rode a pony.

Wanted

This is not to be wanted in the carnal sense, but for the general purpose one seeks out another. This can be for conversation, entertainment, revenge, hatred, or companionship, as a few examples. While much of the time the need matches the properties of the target, on occasion it does not.

Urukha once chided me, saying that D.A. wanted a partner, not a protector. This was difficult to understand, as my role began with the latter and changed (rather quickly). And, of course, Urukha was right. D.A. has corrected my tendencies on more than one occasion now, the last being much more abrupt.

Around others there is also disconnect between what they expect and what I am prepared to offer. Some think that an introduction alone is equivalent to friendship, as the girl Kuvasei assumed. I expect that I will have more to write on her later. Val’tirus, one of the Tribe initiates, has an interest in me as an object for research on death knights. And there is a spirit hunt that Pip prepares for. The hunt is intended to encourage Tribal cohesion. I am not of the Tribe, but have been invited, and think that this may be counter to the meaning of it.

With the Regent, though, there is confusion. She refused to apply a role to me, so I am left to flounder about and hope that I behave appropriately. Yet what she seems to require changes. I do not know what she wants of me.

Greetings

It is polite to offer a greeting when approaching another, whether they are friend or stranger. However, I have noticed a distinct lack of this gesture from those that would seem to know better. Particularly, other sociable Elves.

There was a snobbish woman that commended my armaments in Orgrimmar. When I politely complimented her on her robe, she entered into a treatise on how my armor was unsatisfactory in appearance. I entered the role of the knight with sub-standard intelligence and sense of fashion, because that is clearly what she expected.

A few days later, an arrogant paladin strode forward and offered commentary on the place where I sometimes stand and think. Between the tree and boxes, there is a little shaded spot that is cool and pleasant. Apparently, standing there signifies that I am lonely or derelict, and I must therefore be pestered.

Neither of these individuals even offered a "hello" before beginning their sermons. It is disappointing.

Certain Goal

Yesterday, D.A., the Goodman Nathan and I convened to discuss the situation. I suggested the meeting because, though my beloved and I have shared our information, Nathan did not know all of the circumstances and this could have inhibited his willingness to assist.

We told him that his Lord had doomed his household when he entered into the deal with the enemy. Nathan accepted this unhappily, but readily. He did not seem surprised by his Lord's disastrous bargaining. He also did not argue when D.A. explained how Mirtai and Mira share an appearance. The enemy trapped Mira’s soul here in the phial and placed Mirtai within her body when he destroyed Mirtai’s true form. This was why I used Mirtai to seek out the place where Mira’s soul was confined. I calculated that it would wish to become whole and move directly there.

What was the enemy’s purpose in this complex design? I do not know. That is one thing we must discover.

But Mira’s body, in this perpetual sleep, will not live forever. I entreated the others to join in my resolve to destroy the enemy. There was some hesitation, knowing that the path to this goal is unclear. D.A., however, focused me toward protecting this place and all that are within. Which I am usually rather good at. And Nathan seemed eager to help.

Fleeting

As with tribes, guilds, goblin corporations, and the like, friendships too rise and fall. They begin with a meeting, an introduction, and then either conversation or some other activity that forms a connection. From here, the initial decision is made, based on impressions, whether or not to pursue the bond.

That decision is re-made with every subsequent contact. However, it becomes quieter and transforms when the acquaintance becomes a friendship. The question turns to the choice between deepening, or distancing. Should one allow more trust? Does the person seem worthy? Or are their interests unappealing, their demeanor unpleasant? And so on.

Then, there seems to be a critical point when one decides that the relationship should end, or simply drifts away. There are those that I met initially in Orgrimmar that I no longer converse with. Jiik the warlock, and Decie and Leahndri have both found other entertainments, for example. Even the little wolf, Coilla, no longer appears with regularity. Aside from D.A., the one that I have known longest now in a congenial sort of way is the odd goblin, Nicken.

But others have risen. Urukha has demonstrated great discretion and calm. And the Regent, despite an incurable curiosity, is quite fascinating. Pip refuses to allow any hint of hunger to appear without offering foodstuffs, and the Tribe at large is accepting (Westel's teasing notwithstanding). Understanding the patterns, though, and seeing their own members appear and disappear over time, causes me to wonder just how much should be invested in each new individual, with the risk of losing.

I think however, though fleeting, friendship is itself a worthwhile pursuit. Challenging in its discipline and motivating to the core. Viere did not understand this, nor did he allow it. And so I still struggle to understand what others embrace easily.