Side Project

The Regent tasked me with a small matter. She wished initiate an exchange of literature with the library at Tyr’s Hand, where Nemeiah is the curator.

I calculate that one of the motivations behind the Regent’s request was to distract and keep me from fretting overmuch regarding her personal affairs. Truthfully, I do not mind if that is so. Sometimes it is best to keep a soldier busy, or else they begin looking for less constructive ways to express themselves. D.A. employs this tactic with me often when I am restless, in such a way that I do not realize it has been initiated until well into the task. Though I confess I do not mind that, either.

Nemeiah agreed to the literature exchange, and I learned that the Regent reads and speaks Common. I do not, of course. Nemeiah was gathering up appropriate texts, and the Regent has said that she will retrieve Shu’halo stories, translated into Orcish, in return. Nemeiah is quite excited to see them.

Or she was. I visited Tyr’s Hand yesterday and it was closed off, quarantined. The Bishop assured me that Nemeiah was undamaged, but declared that no one could enter or leave. This is a complication.

Fronts

This is the place where one faces an opponent. And, the appearance given to others in order to not provoke ill feelings. Both are applicable at this moment.

I search for information on the enemy. The one that has caused all of this destruction, more than I was aware of. And, I try to continue public activities as possible (though the last few days this has been strained), to show that nothing has altered. This is not just to prevent interference, but also to protect those that do not know the danger.

Because thus far, I cannot calculate the commonalities between incidents. Aside from Mirtai, and myself. And Mirtai has not yet awoken from her slumber.

The Game

There is an intricate tapestry that everyone weaves about them. It is not visible, but is made up of threads of emotional investments, friendships, lies, deceptions, and goals. Recognizing individual threads and manipulating them, both on oneself and on others, is "the game."

The purpose of the game is simple: survival. Beyond this, it can be used to create strong bonds within a group or society, or to damage and destroy the bonds of others. If performed poorly, it can ostracize and endanger. It is not always malicious, in fact before recent events I would have claimed that it is normally amiable, and bound by rules of socialization. But it is possible to reveal and tug at those threads to accomplish one’s ends, or to annihilate others. There are three sorts of participants. Victims, grudging competitors, and able players.

Those that are not aware of the game or refuse to play become victims to it. As an example, I spoke with Nemeiah at Tyr’s Hand some weeks ago, and she was upset by the scene created by Knight’s rudeness toward her in Orgrimmar. She declared that she would avoid the city for a time after, in order to prevent further disruption. Thus she gave victory to those that did not accept her, and would drive her away. Too gentle to manipulate the threads, her own are left for others to grasp. As a note, she has since returned to the city.

The Bishop, by contrast, is aware of the game and plays it with competence. But he regrets the necessity of it. With him I chatted about the same incident and we traded information. He recognizes that I am the sort that requires fair exchange for offered services, and he told me what I wished to know, for details regarding Knight’s activities in Orgrimmar.

Then, there are those like the Regent who not only know the game exists, but embrace it and play with skill. And, not only mortals are involved at the highest levels. Unholy and unseen sorts manipulate and confine, judge and guide. There is nothing quite as perturbing as learning that while you were moving your pieces on the chess board, someone else, someone you were utterly unaware of, was moving theirs too.

Alone

Not all answers have come, but I pause to record what has occurred. Mira, the Lord’s daughter, spoke and indicated that she could commune with Mirtai yet within her body, and acknowledged that she did not belong among the living. Goodman Nathan, feeling strong attachment for her, protested, but she hushed him. D.A. offered a spell to let them cross over together. They embraced, and the incantation began.

For only a moment did this tender scene last. A dark voice descended on the house, and D.A. clung to my hand. It was not the shadow-spectre, which has been contained. It was something far more powerful and malicious. It disrupted the spell and struck D.A. senseless, right in my arms. Then it left. Mirtai, or Mira, whoever she was then, also fell. Nathan and I tried to rouse them but failed. 

Those hours that I sat with my stricken beloved, alone, unable to speak, unable to shield or comfort, were terrible. I feared that I would never again see those supernal blue eyes, and that unnatural sleep would endure forever. Darkness filled my mind.

But late in the night, my darling awoke. And I was not alone anymore.

I Am Here For You

I am not designed to give comfort. That sort of emotional warmth conveyed through the proper words at a precise moment, or by touch. With those that I consider friends, I am attempting to learn the behaviors that they require. With D.A., I would hope that I already know them. But still I make errors.

There are those around me that at times need comfort, though they do not openly request it. Nemeiah is frightened after another incident at Tyr’s Hand. She did not forbid my presence there as before, but declared that it seemed everyone she cared for has fallen to misfortune. I entreated with logic. Saying that misfortune does not solely target those with whom she had an attachment, but this did not seem to cheer her.

When I faltered, she said that it was good enough that I was simply there.

Later, Urukha expressed to Pip that she had a difficult day. Fighting in the shattered lands of Draenor had made her uneasy, and she had visited the graves of her family. I asked how she found things there. But Pip, with a mouth full of peanut butter, simply stated “I am here for you.” That is translated through the full mouth, of course. Those words immediately soothed Urukha. I was surprised.

But when I sat with the Regent for our renewed outing, intending to use my presence and what I had learned to ease (what I thought was) her distress, it did not work. The words would not form on my lips, and we spoke of other things rather than what was drifting about in my mind. Had my concern been false, I think it would have been easier to speak clearly, and lie. But because it is genuine, it is infinitely more difficult to express. I do not understand it.

Shadow-Spectre

The enemy appeared yesterday. The plan was to utilize Mirtai to seek out something that we needed in order to defeat the shadow-spectre: the binding that keeps the additional spirit trapped. That spirit is the daughter of the dead Lord. I may go into detail regarding why only Mirtai could do this at another time. D.A. gave her a draught that pulled her into a state of sleep, subduing the mind but letting the body move.

Goodman Nathan eagerly joined us when we searched, and Mirtai walked directly to where the binding was hidden. It was a black phial very similar to those I had seen Viere use. Before I could take it, Mirtai lunged in and opened it. That purple mist she breathed in, I recognized.

She then came awake, but was not Mirtai. She was the lord’s daughter, Mira, and she was quite terrified of me. Nathan exclaimed her name, and this brought the shadow-spectre down upon us. It attacked him first, and I descended on it to restrain it. I commanded him to take the girl to the house, where my ward, the one powered by the many candles, would protect them.

I held to the spectre, and D.A. struck it with dark magic. Nathan and the girl reached the house, and then the spectre turned to overwhelm me. It choked me and ravaged my throat with its claws, and I struggled. I had the phial still, the one that had contained the daughter’s soul, and heard D.A. call to me to open it. When I did, D.A. spoke the words that sealed the spectre inside. The mother took her daughter's place.

It seems now that the immediate threat has passed, but many questions persist. The greatest in my mind is: With the girl, Mira, restored, where is Mirtai?

Drained

My darling has not yet recovered fully from the confrontation with the shadow-spectre.  Though no rigorous physical exertion was demanded, the contest of wills had great impact. I am doing all that I can to support, in addition to my normal duties.

Yet, despite the exhaustion, there has been progress on the issue with our cadaverous intruder. Persevering through weariness, D.A. deciphered the scroll from Scholomance and concluded that there is another spirit trapped here. In addition to Goodman Nathan, and the enemy. Her name we do not speak in order to not rouse the shadow-spectre. Now, I at least have something of a direction that can be utilized to craft strategy.

As I write this, though, the blankets are pulled up and my beloved rests. I prepare to appear in the world and perform as others require me in order to not raise concern or curiosity. I hope that my own energy is sufficient.