Acherus

For the most recent outing with the Regent, I attempted something a bit different. Instead of traveling to a scenic outdoors location, we went to Acherus: the Ebon Hold. This is the headquarters of the Ebon Blade, a floating necropolis above the Plaguelands, and visitors are not welcome. Going there was a fleeting fancy in my mind that escaped as words. Yet the Regent was so fascinated and excited at the thought that I resolved to accomplish it.

I obtained a disguise for her and she completed the transformation with her own cosmetic resources. The result was that she appeared as a knight nearly alive, if pale in coloring and quiet in voice. I expected her to control her whimsy with some difficulty, and she did for the most part.

There was the chance that she would be discovered when we were halted by a pair of death knights, who referred to each other as “brother” but one was troll and the other orc. The troll, Arkk’takal, was one of the most exuberant knights I have ever encountered. The orc, Umarg, was more reasonably restrained. The Regent was quite entertained with them until I encouraged us to move on.

Certainly if the Tribe knew that she had traveled there, even in my protective company, there may have been some opposition. I did tell the Regent that if she was she uncovered she would be fed to the ghouls. She confessed some anxiety due to this. But the danger was actually less than I expressed and so afterwards I assured her that I would have intervened to prevent it.

The Flopping Chair

There is a chair in my beloved’s study that is an odd combination of basket, pillows and frame. The frame supports the round, bowl-like basket, and then there are far more pillows that one really needs to be comfortable. But there are enough to make it difficult to climb into. Thus, the proper method of entry is to flop. Lifting up one's arms and then falling back until caught by the cushions.

But if it requires a refined, specific technique to sit, more challenging is it to stand again. Particularly when one (like me) falls asleep in it and is then lacking in coordination when roused. However, it is comfortable. And it compliments a desire to remain nearby without disrupting my darling’s concentration.

This may be the least profound entry on your pages journal, since I wrote of armadillos.

Lightwarden

The Bishop is apparently alive. I stopped by Tyr’s Hand to greet Nemeiah and offer the collected condolences of others. But she was not in the abbey. I searched the grounds and she quite nearly ran down the hill from the cathedral shouting with excitement.

I followed to see what the fuss was. The Bishop stood there on the cathedral steps, as alive as a Forsaken is able to be. Roeth was also there, and endured the Bishop’s emotional greeting with none of his own. At least, no emotion that I could detect. Nem was ignored by both until she suggested to me that we leave them be. After three days dead, I suppose I can forgive the Bishop having bad manners. Roeth, of course, never had good manners to begin with.

Lightwarden claimed that he did not raise himself, but that something else seemed to wish him to continue his work. He joked that given the poor performance of the Crusaders that tried to rescue him, he had a great deal of work yet to do.

This I observed with both relief and apprehension. Immortality always has a price.

Discovery

I located a trove in a submerged ruin in Azshara. Though the first tome retrieved from there was not precisely what is needed, my beloved assured me it was of the proper time period. I must trust in this as none of the text is in any language I can read.  

The majority of the day following I spent transporting the contents of the cache to home. A great number of books had been destroyed by time or disintegrated in my hands, but I am hopeful that there is something that will help us defeat the enemy. After all, when hunting a demon, what better to consult than the writings of Demon Hunters?

As a note, Mirtai has returned to her duties about the house. This is very helpful, as D.A. and I concentrate our energies on our tasks and sometimes forget to take meals and rest, respectively.

Return to Tyr's Hand

Nemeiah reported that Bishop Lightwarden is dead. Though she did not give details and I did not press for them, her grief is apparent. She had told me in the days leading to the attack that she thought of him as a surrogate father. And that he represented everything that she aspired to be as a student of the Light. Now she is in mourning and has made a goal to continue her pursuit of ordination in his honor.

She also has returned to Tyr’s Hand and the abbey. I am satisfied that she is inside the walls there and safe, and is once again caring for Nunuru.

Untitled #2

((The first letter is clean and neatly folded. The second is crumpled and then forced smooth again to fit between the journal pages.))

To the Front

Nemeiah wrote to tell me that she will participate in the next assault on the Necropolis. Though I have long been expecting her to go, I still did not greet the news with enthusiasm. Nor did she seem eager for the prospect of entering the place that so many have left again wounded, but she feels it is her duty.

I have not recorded the specific series of events leading to this point by her request, and only mention it now because of my dislike for the situation. Even Roeth is reported to be disenchanted with the venture. But as always I assured Nem that her safety was the chief concern and that I would be waiting when she returned. She believes that finally, if this last attack is successful she may return to Tyr’s Hand. I will be extremely pleased if that is the result.

This will occur tonight. So there is time for a last visit and chance for encouragement should energy permit.