Yearly Reflections

In the spirit of the year’s end, I pause to record the perceived changes and developments that occurred over the last months. You have witnessed enough of my habits by now, journal, to not be surprised when I state that I view introspection as a waste of energy, as it is most likely inaccurate and unproductive. However, I do believe that there is merit in observing the development of others.

My D.A., of course, transformed from a hunted, bereft individual, far too dignified for their artificially low position, into a tower of power and sensuality. And while not lacking in confidence before, they now face the world with a poise gained by wisdom, and compassion, and I am utterly taken.

Viere lost me, and his depraved machinations led to his destruction. His killer remains un-apprehended and I have no intent to pursue it, though I remain cautious and watchful. His property became mine, by more than one definition.

Mirtai has, perhaps, had the worst of it this year. She began it as the favored mistress, but my departure and Viere’s subsequent downfall cast her into the ungentle hands of the worst of mortals. Without her powers she foolishly - or courageously - sought me and my protection. I nearly killed her for the attempt. In recent months she is listless, but improved in her skills and extremely complying.

Then there is the Tribe. Individually, there are those that have changed a great deal in the short time I have been familiar with them. Westel, for example, claims that he is no longer the hedonistic pig that I encountered months ago. We had an interesting discussion on that subject, as he did not recall the impression that he gave, and I am conscious of his recent behaviors. Coilla was forcibly made aware of the risk to herself by keeping an enemy, and not preparing herself for his inevitable challenge. She then increased her training and is able to defend herself properly.

Vivvienne was courted by and married Talil, only to divest herself of him due to his inexcusable negligence. She gave birth to their son. Anannia also conceived and delivered her Sandstorm. And Urukha, though only recently, begins to show signs of an internal power she avoided for some time. Whiteclaw would likely state that he is still the same, but that he has taken a formidable lover in recent months and moved his family into the Tribal lands indicates a new direction. Pip learned to read a few letters. Vindy promoted Branam from guardian to husband, and carries his child. There are others still who are waiting for their great changes, if they choose to pursue them.

Nemeiah is still a timid and shy creature when strangers are about, but after her betrothed abandoned her, she braved the ever-burning fires of Stratholme and, against my judgment, dedicates herself to Tyr’s Hand and the Light. She recently stated that she will seek seminaries and become properly ordained.

The Regent, though, remains a bit distant and mysterious. Her responsibilities and values are quite obvious, but how that regard and prowess was obtained I have not yet discovered. I believe there is a vulnerability that she hides. But she is too skilled to allow others to see it easily.

Perhaps I changed as well. I told you that I would not reflect thus, and so will not commit in ink any confession in that regard. But I will name a few accomplishments for which I am proud. Empowering myself. Gaining the trust of the Tribe. Vanquishing Shadowstep. Winning the affection of my beloved. This next year I know that the challenges and difficulty will not wait for the fireworks to settle upon the earth before rising up. But for the first time, I rather look forward to it.

Storytime: Bloodrose (100th post special)

((Hey all! This is a special entry to mark the 100^th post on Annjia’s Journal. I’ll take a break from the blog for the next couple of days, but it’ll return by the New Year! I hope you guys enjoy it, it’s been a blast. Oh, and feel free to leave comments, Annjia won't bite. Thank you for reading!))

There was once an Elven woman, with light hair, who lived in Silvermoon City. Her name was Bloodrose, and she was either the daughter or wife of a baker, I do not recall precisely. When the man-child, Arthas, destroyed Quel’thalas, she was killed and raised as a death knight.

While serving the Lich King she took a lover from among the other knights. He was a strong, powerful and handsome Elf, who would later become known as the Darkrider. When Arthas was defeated at the Battle for Light’s Hope, the two separated for a time.

Then, she saw him again in Zul’Drak, while working for the Ebon Blade campaign. He was accompanied by a female Elven paladin. Bloodrose and this paladin did not suffer each other very well, as the death knight learned that this woman was paired romantically with the Darkrider before their time at Acherus. She had seemingly reclaimed him now that his will was freed.

Bloodrose grew enraged, and resentful. Even more so when she discovered that the Darkrider and this Holy One did not share a bed. They were comrades-in-arms only, despite their former relationship. But he did not even look at Bloodrose anymore.

So she plotted her retribution, seeking a foul alliance with the San’layn, the darkfallen servants of the Lich King. In exchange for their powers, she would kill the Highlord Mograine, disrupting all of the Ebon Blade’s efforts and plunging her former lover into despair and defeat. Her reward for doing this would be to live on as an immortal, a cherished concubine to the dark Princes.

But her plan failed. The poison intended for the Highlord was intercepted by one of his officers, and Bloodrose fled from the Ebon Vault. The Darkrider pursued her, intent on retrieving her. But justice, in the form of an Ebon Blade assassin, found her first.

The assassin tortured and mortally wounded the traitor, discovering all of these secrets before leaving her to bleed into the snow. When the Darkrider approached, Bloodrose told him that she had confessed all of this to the lackey, and that it was his fault. All that he had to do, she said, was tell her that he loved the paladin. It was obvious that the Holy One loved him still. He only had to tell her this, and she would have withdrawn.

But he was silent.

She succumbed and died as a traitor there on Icecrown glacier. In the year following, the Darkrider and the Holy One resumed their ties, and continue today as a formidable pair in the fight for Azeroth.

I relate her story here, as she confessed it to me on the glacier. That day, I was justice. And I am not silent.

Be Careful

This I am told every day. When I depart in the morning, and often when I am simply moving about the property. When the tree fell and shattered the windows on one side of the house, D.A. may have said it three or four times as I cleared the fiendish foliage. There was broken glass present and the storm raged still, so it may have been a valid warning. It is said countless other times when I leave to hunt or conduct business.

It was even said by Urukha in farewell when I left Orgrimmar to return home last night. Nemeiah said it when I was climbing up on the bookshelves in the abbey to retrieve books for her. One knows more of the fights I face, and the other is too caring to ignore the possibility of danger.

But I am not disposed to be reckless, much of the time at least. There is too much to lose by unnecessarily exposing oneself to risk. In the past, I was much more prone to endanger myself deliberately, but there was less to lose then.

I am not certain why it is said so often now. Or perhaps I am not yet accustomed to the idea that there are individuals that may notice whether or not I am damaged.

Gifts

I received several gifts this Winter’s Veil from my acquaintance, some of which are easier to appreciate than others. The cake constructed by Father Sunspeaker I devoured within a day. From Vivvienne, I received a bright floating lantern that follows me about as I wish. This has been quite useful for moving around the property in the dark, particularly in the early morning. The horses also favor it I believe, for they do not like it when something approaches unseen.

Nemeiah gave an extremely delicate glass-enclosed lotus flower. Without her prior warnings of its fragility, this likely would have been damaged by inadvertent activity. It occupies a place on my desk next to the ‘gift’ from Great-father Winter, as well as the one from Anannia.

Ana’s gift is more difficult to appreciate. She gave to me a raptor egg. I thought it rather strange at first, comparable to her other eccentric behaviors. But she also said a few things as she bestowed it, that I did not quite understand the meaning of until later. She said that she knew I feared that my ‘bad aura’ would harm tiny ones – as I had told her before. And that she believed that this was incorrect.

I have not yet decided what to do with this egg. For now it sits with a blanket about it. I thought of placing it near the fireplace, but it may be too warm there. I may offer it to one of Whiteclaw’s sons, the one that keeps raptors, as he has far more experience and chance of hatching it successfully. But there may be more to this that Ana is trying to teach me.

It is one task to keep little trees alive, and another for an unborn animal. Let alone a person. Do’xian warned me that others would try to ‘cure’ me of my ‘fear’ for little ones once it was known that I do not want to touch them. That may be what Anannia is attempting to do. However, this is not an issue of the mind or perception.

The trollish Witch Doctor Kazak’guul expressed it thus: “Yet… ah know who ju be. Darkness say de Spirits, wicked Axes…  Annjia ju be.”

But according to Great-father Winter, that may not be true, either.

The Black Sleigh (Christmas Story)

Two orcish guards at Grom'gol looked up when they spotted something large moving down the path toward them. Into the camp rolled an enormous sable carriage, with a white-haired elf driving a team of black horses.


"What's that?" one of them smacked the other.


"Dunno. It ain't got cannons or nothing."


Annjia hopped down from the driver's seat and spoke a quiet word in a guttural tongue. She opened the door to the carriage and withdrew several wrapped boxes. The wrapping was so meticulous, it may have been measured.


"Ooh, presents."


"Not for us, idiot."


The death knight moved toward the mailbox and the sparse postal office there. "Good morning," she greeted the wiry troll on duty, as she placed a few of the boxes down. Then, she went and retrieved more. The wiry troll stood and peered at the boxes. He reached for one of them and shook it.


"Do not touch that."


The troll's hand snapped back.


Annjia sorted through the packages and notes before she mailed them. She sent out several, each with a personalized greeting, to the individuals she hadn't been able to present the gift to in person. For one of them, the box was so large and heavy that it was better this way. Her drake certainly appreciated not lugging it around. And the postage was the same regardless of weight.


She checked over everything, and then looked up toward the carriage. Yellow eyes from the luggage rack followed her. "It is finished," she reported. "Shall we return?" The death knight climbed back up into the driver's seat and guided the black vehicle about. "Are you still hungry, Maag? Or perhaps not, after you consumed that small deer upon the roof."


A pathetic whine issued from the demonic, and slightly nauseous passenger.


"Yes, I should have suspected that it was ill from the red nose."

Good

Nemeiah seems to believe that there is a greater good to the effort at Tyr’s Hand that overpowers any consideration for her safety. As an example, she prepares now to assist the Bishop Lightwarden in the exorcism of several areas there. When I asked why she did this, she replied that those souls deserved to rest.

I am consistently baffled by this selfless behavior. I do understand applying yourself for a person that you love, or in order to balance justice and strength in the world. But why do these things for the Light? For Right? Do these things solely for the betterment of souls condemned to the same purgatory of undeath, just because they ‘deserve’ rest? This does not calculate. If these Forsaken holy people exert the power of the Light, it injures them. They contend with beings not dissimilar to themselves.  Nor dissimilar to me.

I do wonder if Father Sunspeaker is of similar disposition. He appears to understand the merit of Shadow, whereas Nemeiah will hardly acknowledge the darker side of power. Except to show distaste for it.

But enough of this philosophy. Tomorrow is Winter's Veil, and today I distribute presents.

Winter's Veil Party

Good morning, journal.

My apologies once again for the lateness of this entry. Once again I stayed awake last night, and much of the reason for this was the Tribe’s Winter’s Veil party in Dragonblight. Unfortunately, several of the ladies, including Anannia and Vivvienne, attended dressed in the slightest of holiday outfits and were rather miserable with the cold.

I offered Anannia my cloak (as Scynthe appeared to be taking care of Vivvienne), and she later changed into something more appropriate. I then borrowed the inappropriate. It was glorious. Anannia was blamed for my odd behavior and several, including the Regent, asked if I was feeling well.

The Little Wolf was there also, and though we did not have the opportunity to speak at length, she seemed quite content with her mate Urafang in tow. I was also able to introduce myself to Anais, Westel’s young daughter. She enjoyed herself immensely with the presence of “Great Father Winter” – really one of the Tribesman dressed up – and gifts. He gave to me a present of tall black boots. I immediately donned those, for they looked rather fine with the rest of the lack of clothing.

The night ended with a fight of snowy projectiles. Fortunately, my training with D.A. allowed me to compete adequately. Birodil, with his accommodating nature, was the target of my impish tactics after the main battle ended. Snow does not hurt when it is politely shoved down the back of one’s shirt.

Oh, the Regent also carried some small, strange device with her that produced great white flashes of light. She assured me that it was not a weapon, although she aimed it at me and several others throughout the night. I should ask about this later. I did return Anannia’s clothes to her, also, though I am tempted to procure a set of my own.

Normalcy

This morning D.A. and I will take the carriage out into the forest and test it. I confess that I am quite eager to go and demonstrate the craftsmanship of it, as well as the freedom allowed. That is something that my beloved desires mightily at present. Urukha explained the idea to me several days ago, though I was resistant.


We will consume the rest of the cake that Mirtai baked as well. It was rather fine. I also destroyed the small toy horse by tossing it into the fireplace, as it served its purpose and neither of us wished to keep it.

I should return to the city and learn the status of the others. Nemeiah returned to Tyr's Hand despite my warnings and the acknowledged dangers there. She also sent to me a wrapped gift, that she said was extremely delicate and not to be opened for several more days. I put it out of reach of the kitten.

Urukha and Pip were supposedly moving back into the Tribal lands, and I am curious if this happened. I am also wondering what will occur when Pip discovers the raptors that Whiteclaw's son keeps.

Today

It is D.A.’s birthday. I am occupied. Later I shall record more if I have any energy remaining.


My apologies for the lateness of this entry. Today’s proceedings went very well. We did not ride about, but D.A. appreciated the gift immensely. My small distraction, a hand-carved horse (utilized as a decoy), seemed to enhance the reaction to the carriage once it was revealed as being the ‘real’ present.  As expected, though, I do not have the energy to compose more at this moment. I did not sleep much last night.

Delivery

Last night I moved the carriage. It was a rather arduous feat, given the distance required. I was concerned about the path through the Alliance lands, and so calculated a different route.

The carriage has no distinctive markers that signify the owner as being Horde or Alliance. The frame itself is Gilnean, recolored, of course. I ventured through Hillsbrad and then into the Wetlands, intent on reaching the black mountain before dawn. When I did, it was nearly so. The sun rose quickly as I took the pass through the Redridge cliffs. I was glad for the light, as the sheer drop offs would have been rather unpleasant to encounter in the dark.

From there the journey was simple. I am hopeful that the horses will not be noisy today and cause raised eyebrows.

I also delivered to Nemeiah my views on her situation at Tyr’s Hand. The exchange grew heated, though to a very mild degree, but the necessary opinions were given. And to Urukha I gave a Winter's Veil gift. I did not realize she was so fond of pirates.

Honorary

Good morning, journal.

Apparently, I have been declared an honorary member of the Burning Tusk Tribe. The reason this was not so obvious to me at first is because of the blasted subtle way that the Regent did it. I wrote and asked for her counsel on the situation at Tyr’s Hand, and she invited me to attend the Tribal meeting. I accepted, informing her that I would solely observe, as it was a Tribe function.

Thinking that this was no different from any other event, I followed the lead of the others there. Then at the beginning, the Regent and others insisted that I step into the center and introduce myself. I thought this rather silly, when all but one of the Tribespeople there already knew me. Then, after the meeting, when Do’xian escorted me to the Regent’s study for our private meeting, he congratulated me on becoming “Honorary.”

I did not understand. I have not undertaken the trials. I have not followed the steps that the others did. Yet repeatedly, the Regent, Urukha and even Vivvienne insist on calling me family. Though Urukha at the least acknowledges that there is a distinction. It is very strange, and I confess that I am uncertain what the proper behavior is now. I do not know the expectations, the obligations, or duties. Who commands me?

It is very confusing.

Risk

D.A. and I joined in a difficult conversation. I knew that there was something amiss from that they were not upstairs studying, but by the fireplace and waiting for my return.

I have done all that is in my power to keep us safe. I have provided everything that I can without compromising this. But after visiting the Darkmoon Faire together, my beloved wants more. I am calculating the risk.

Diplomacy

Nemeiah and I spoke in Orgrimmar for a brief time, though we were continually interrupted by others. We eventually departed the tavern when gunshots began. Her leader, Bishop Lightwarden is planning to purge a desecrated chapel there in the shadow of Acherus Hold. At first, I wondered if this would excite the interest of the Ebon Blade, but my opinion is that there will be no response other than stiff silence.

There is also word of growing opposition to his neutral band restoring Tyr's Hand. The supposed instigators of this movement are based in Lordaeron and Silvermoon, rather than Acherus. While I do not claim any loyalty to any side, I am concerned for Nem’s safety should the vulnerable location come under attack.

After the Tribal meeting I spoke with the Regent regarding this, and asked for her counsel. In the midst of the conversation, Anannia burst into the study and declared that she would help protect Nem. I reacted negatively, partially from already being agitated and from that Ana was offering this while her newborn daughter dangled from a harness object in front of her body. It was highly improper.

In the end, with the Regent’s mediation, Ana agreed to not assist and I agreed to not interfere, and the Regent ordered that I keep her updated on the situation. And I was correct in my calculation that Ana would not remember the substance of our last letter exchange.

Update #3

Two nights ago I attended the naming ceremony of Vivvienne’s new little one. A few of the Tribe were in attendance, but not they were not at their full strength of numbers. She named the child Trysten Camden Burningtusk, and the others pledged to protect him. I did not know that this was part of the ceremony, and so I did not join in that promise until I took a few moments to think on it.

Anannia delivered her child, and promptly named the girl Sandstorm Victoria Dawnheart. She treated the event with far less ceremony and gravity. Last night she introduced the new arrival at the Tribe’s weekly meeting. Vindy, who was serving drinks at the tavern afterwards as well as socializing, unfortunately handed Sandstorm to me while she performed her job. It was very distressing. I gave her back as quickly as possible.

I finish applying the security to the carriage in the next day or so. It has been challenging to modify my wards to a vehicle with moving and changeable parts, and my concentration has been disrupted several times by dizzy spells. I am hopeful that these will fade once the carriage is removed from that place.

Finally, I am a bit concerned for Mirtai. While she has not complained of her treatment and she is well protected, she is still withdrawn and quiet. Her bed is empty, and that is not something she is accustomed to. My calculation is that she is lonely, after losing Viere. I am attempting to determine a suitable Winter’s Veil gift for her. It is unfortunately difficult to find, package and deliver a respectful man to her, or this is what I might have done. But I do not think that is possible.

Another note: Five days remain.

Chance and Fate

A few days ago I acquired the team of horses that will draw the carriage. They had names, but I decided to rename them for their new purpose. However, I struggled to think of something appropriate. To compare, my drake is named Mayhem, and my dread charger is Chaos. They were named when I was far more interested in such things.

This is different. The names should reflect the unique symbolism of this vehicle, demonstrating the distance traveled between what was, and what is. And the unlikely path that it took in between. When Urukha visited the barn in Tirisfal to see the completed product, I told her that one of the names I considered is Chance.

Urukha suggested the name Fate for the other. She believes in this concept firmly, while I do not. As we discussed it, we agreed that both may have influence. Had Fate been followed strictly, based on circumstances, she would be much different.

But with Chance, and the opportunity to embrace different possibilities, we suddenly have choice. That is something precious and not afforded to all, nor easy to recognize when it arises.

So, let us be drawn by Chance and Fate. And see where we go.

Allegiance

When I last visited Nemeiah at the abbey in Tyr’s Hand, she was conversing with a human man. A few days before, when I went to borrow a book for the carriage project, Bishop Lightwarden, Nem’s superior, was sitting and chatting with a dwarf. From the dwarf’s robes, I recognized him as a frequent opponent in Tol Barad.

I am a servant of the Horde and am compensated each day for my efforts in the field. When I hunt, I target prey in Alliance-held territory. That the abbey is treated as neutral ground, and that those I consider good acquaintances are freely fraternizing makes me uncomfortable. My calculation is that all of these Light-flingers may be seeking each other’s company after the betrayal of the leader of the church of Stormwind.

Particularly perilous is this situation when I may face those same visitors in battle.They fight for the Alliance, so they are not neutral. The Horde is my aegis; I am tolerated and permitted to move about the cities without objection. My abilities are recognized and rewarded, and for this reason I am loyal. This allegiance mirrors on a smaller scale with the Tribe, and the Regent specifically. I do not wish to be seen as tolerant of the enemy.

Perhaps I should no longer venture to Tyr’s Hand, unless to utilize the library. It would be impolite to destroy the other guests.

Warriors of Life

Urukha remarked, after we departed the gnoll tunnels, that it was a hard to admit when you need someone. My reply was that we are warriors of life, and that we are designed to endure the trials that it brings.

Some warriors fight their enemies in the open, with blades drawn and armor bloodied. Some fight their battles with pen and paper, poring through tomes in order to connect obscure facts, and produce new knowledge. And still others examine the intricate bonds between people. To preserve or sever those connections through counsel, command or subterfuge.

Then there are those whose greatest challenge is existence. For them nothing is given, and everything taken. For them, death is both victory and defeat. Salvation only comes from the acceptance of others, even if it is just one.

Just one.

Seeking

I am a seeker. I enjoy spending my energy going to various places, distant, complex, or dangerous, in order to acquire items of interest.  It was what I often did for Viere, and I find it fulfilling. What I seek may be books, trinkets, relics, or more recently, food.

For the last few months I searched for rare edibles and sent some of them to Vivvienne, in addition to bringing them home with me. Since her husband abandoned all responsibility for her, I felt compelled to provide some small measure of support. Periodically I sent Vivvienne these exotic foods along with a brief note. On occasion, she wrote back, and she said that she appreciated the gestures.

She gave birth the evening before yesterday. Fortunately, I was far from the event. From what I understand everything progressed smoothly. Now, while I am relieved that the child has come, the mother will no longer require my gifts. This disheartened me.

I wanted to continue this activity. When I spoke with Vindy and Branam in Orgrimmar yesterday, I asked if I could do the same for her. Both of them agreed. She is hardly a month into her pregnancy, but no one knows how long that it will require. I am pleased to continue this practice. 

Touch

As I become closer to various members of the Tribe, it seems that routine physical contact is expected. Urukha in particular has started to assert various gestures: a pat on the arm, a clap on the pauldron. Or, in rare cases, a hug.

I have taken to expressing my affection for Whiteclaw by manipulating parts of his armor. Usually nudging the staff on his back or batting at the decorative dangles on his shoulders. Given that he sometimes greets with a lick to the face, this seems an appropriately oblique behavior. Yesterday when he confessed that he was in pain, I massaged his shoulder briefly for him - when he was in his feline form, of course.

However, with others there is a bit of complexity. When Whiteclaw changed into his moonkin form the other day, Vindy fled in fright. So I offered my hand and assurances in order to still her distress. She took it and did not release me for several minutes. When she did, she was no longer afraid, but she was puzzled.

She asked the question, rather bluntly. Why was it warm? I replied that it was not so, and that my glove had absorbed the heat from her own hand. I offered proof by giving her my hand again, and drew Frost into myself. This satisfied her expectations, I believe. “For Science,” she said.

I try to avoid direct contact like this as much as possible. It is not usually difficult, as most possess a natural disinclination toward the undead. And, of course, that I am most often utterly covered in heavy metal plates.

Work Completed

The repair to the carriage is complete. The colors are applied, and the modifications made to the undercarriage so that it may travel on snow. I am extremely pleased with the result. Miss Hackwrench explained that there was some mishap with the painting of it, but she did not go into great detail. Truthfully I was also more concerned with inspecting the vehicle than acquiring the full story.

There seems to be no detail that was missed, and so I offered a rather generous payment to her. I go to procure horses soon, and to see whether Urukha has finished the harness. After this, I will spend my energy enacting the security on it. This will be a very expensive gift.

On an unrelated topic, after visiting the Tribe tavern a few nights ago, I gave to Westel some of the gem-like berries from Netherstorm, as a gift to his little one. The man still seems content to ignore me on most occasions. I am not certain if this is from personal dislike or unfamiliarity.

First Date

Last night D.A. and I went on a date. A date, as I understand it, is a social activity wherein two individuals with romantic or friendly ties go to an external location and participate in an event, or share a meal. This could rightly be called our first, or at least the first outing that was recognized and acknowledged as such.

We went to the Darkmoon Faire, enjoying the eerie beauty of the island and the offerings of the carnival. I enjoyed the hammer game immensely. And D.A. was unexpectedly talented in the shooting gallery. I am not certain where this skill was acquired, as I have never seen them wield a weapon greater than a staff or pen before. Unfortunately, D.A. forbade me from trying the game of being shot from a cannon.

The food there we indulged in, and we saw the animals. Although I wanted to ride one of the ponies, the music show was beginning, and we hurried to attend. We danced together. It has been so very long since I danced. I did not want to, but it was surprisingly pleasant. We then departed the Faire with a flower from the souvenir shop. I am content.

Humor

I do not understand it sometimes. While I strive to be eloquent and cogent in all interactions, it seems that I still do not always recognize when someone is not perfectly serious in their statements. The two that are most difficult to apprehend are the Regent, and my D.A.

The former chided me for being a poor sentinel when she suddenly appeared behind the tree in Orgrimmar. I had not been alert, and the criticism was valid. However, Urukha later assured me that she was teasing. But the Regent did it again yesterday when we chatted. She said that the extremes of weather: hot and cold, affect her personality, and out of concern for moderation (it is bloody hot in Orgrimmar, after all) I offered one of my icy talents. She represented this as an offer for affectionate contact. I was instantly appalled. She, however, was amused. Then I discerned that it was a misunderstanding. It was only a joke, and I felt ashamed for not knowing it.

D.A. excels at speaking with great sarcasm and sincerity at once. In my eagerness to please, I often believe the words to be true. Fortunately, my lack of comprehension does not lead to discouragement. They are extremely accommodating and patient.

By contrast, I told a priest last night that death knights do not possess a sense of humor, and he replied that I do a poor job of not having it. Perhaps he said this because I threatened to throw books at his head. That was not entirely a joke.

Being Invisible

While my social activities of the last months have increased my influence within Orgrimmar, there are still some individuals who do not seem to see me at all. There is no quarrel I have with this, as I often prefer to not be at the center of attention.

I have given thought to why some are invisible, and others obvious. The most conspicuous occupy some sort of extreme. They are the most outrageous flirts, or draw their weapon at the smallest provocation. They confess their troubles to all, whether or not all wish to hear. They are the most grotesque, or the most beautiful. Or they think they are.

I am a private individual. My appearance is fair, but concealed. I occupy that middle ground in the minds of others, between stranger and friend, masculine and feminine, soldier and civilian. Turn one’s perspective but a little and I vanish from view. Turn it again, and you only see one side.

This also happens when conversing with those of my acquaintance, and a few friends. When something that inspires their interest happens along, their attention diverts. That does not mean that they are shallow (although that is sometimes the case), but that there are other things more important to them at that moment. 


And, noting the date for myself: Only two weeks left now.

Dizzy

Something odd has been happening. I dismissed it for some time as being nothing more than a symptom of exhaustion, but since the broken carriage came to Tirisfal, these dizzy spells have increased.

It is not the same as being struck in the head, nor do I think that the recent altercation with the gnolls caused it. But for a few seconds, my vision blurs and I see some image other than the one before me. The first time I remember this occurring was in Gilneas, after leaving the cathedral. Now, it seems to happen when I go to monitor the carriage's progress. I must seem terribly rude for asking others to repeat themselves when I do not hear them.

I usually see rain, or some object in the rain, such as a gutter or rose. Other times it is exceptionally bright and golden, and the faintest outline of a face peers at me. I cannot identify any of these things from my own experience.

If this continues I may need to seek a healer, though I hesitate to. I have not yet told D.A.

Keeping Secrets

This is something I am usually proficient in. For three years there are things that I hear or know that are not meant for public consumption. The information is not world-breaking, but it is often heavy.

There is one of my friends who demonstrates peculiar respect for secrets.There are many things that she knows that she holds close. I am appreciative of this, as it is not common, and I do the same for her. On this subject, Pip asked about our adventures and I told her that we hunted worgen.

I also chatted yesterday with Do'xian about avoiding the curiosity of others. He seems a troll that keeps much from the world, for his own reasons. He stated that even the most inquisitive member of the Tribe, the Regent, would be respectful if asked to pause.

For others, I have observed a peculiar paradox. It is often safer to reveal more compromising information to those you are less acquainted with, because they do not understand the value of the information. Yuliia, for example, the Regent's younger sister, knows something of me that I have only admitted to D.A. otherwise.

Gnoll Business

I wrote to Urukha and requested her help with the gnoll infestation in Tirisfal. She agreed readily, to my surprise, and we ventured to the windmills.

We entered the caves through Mirtai's window at the lowest level of the catacombs, where I had not set foot in nearly a year. Urukha discovered one of the protective rune traps still active there. She was not heavily injured, fortunately, and I was able to disarm another. I apologized, and she said that it was not my fault. But she did not know that it was I that placed them so long ago.

We continued into the caves, and the gnolls were unusually robust. My blows were not properly aimed, perhaps because of my uneasiness. Urukha killed one of them, and the other fled. We followed into the chieftain’s chamber. He was a very large, armored gnoll, and unnaturally powerful. While our initial strikes were true, we were quickly disabled and immobilized. I by the chieftain’s grip, and Urukha by being knocked down and held. We resisted, but both of us received damage.

When my ribs cracked beneath the chieftain's grasp, Urukha broke free. She leapt up and smashed into the chieftain’s body. Her fists ended his life. I have not seen her so furious, and potent. The other gnolls fled when their leader died.

I did not find any of the lost lanterns or other baubles from the carriage there, but I did find many of Viere’s potions. The gnolls had stolen them and used them to augment their strength and size. I destroyed all that was there.

More I will write later. For now, I rest.

Wildlife

Maag alerted me to intruders on the property yesterday morning. Their prints were all about the apple sapling, and many of its leaves had been stripped off.  I followed the tracks as best I was able, but the culprits had already disappeared into the forest.

Apparently the humans did not eradicate all of the small deer that inhabit this area. With the weather turning cold and their normal sources of edibles dying from frost, they seem to have discovered the delicate seedlings in my care. Yes, I did procure a second one. But the number will not matter if the deer eat them all.

Then in the evening, Miss Hackwrench met with me in Orgrimmar in the evening to explain why some of the pieces of the carriage had gone missing. She set out the pieces to dry after a fresh coat of paint was applied, and then the gnolls that infest the area stole them.

She endeavored to retrieve the baubles with her color-changing raptor, Prism, and as any good goblin would, with explosives. However, even with fire and claw, only a handful of items were successfully recovered. The rest disappeared within the gnoll ranks. They were likely traded about and brought deeper into the caves that they invaded.

While Miss Hackwrench relayed this news to me, she may have detected how irritated I was. For years this area was controlled by Viere, and his pets kept it safe. The gnolls did not dare encroach. But with the abandonment of his lands, there was nothing to keep them away.

I will see about rectifying this very soon.

Relieved

Urukha and Pip are postponing their lifemating. Uru and I spoke for some time regarding this, and I was able to express my thoughts to her. Some time ago, when I took an opportunity with Vivvienne to discuss her situation, Talil’s neglect was so obvious and complete that there was little doubt what the proper course would be. That is not the case here.

If balance is found, they may still be mates for life. I am glad that we spoke before it occurred, though. And I am no longer pressed to compose a speech within the week.

Pip also asked if I would utilize the carriage in order to live on Tribe lands. I am not certain, but she may have imagined the carriage sitting out in their valley, acting much as one of their huts. Only I would be free to leave at any time I wished, like a nomad. But I apply the same principle to this as to the Regent’s offer. And that is not the purpose of this project.

As a note to myself - I must speak with Miss Hackwrench about why all of the lanterns and other decorative baubles associated with the carriage went missing.

Snow Fight

Good morning, journal.

My apologies for the relative lateness of this entry. D.A. roused me from sleep with a sudden and palpable urgency. I received assurance that all was safe, and was then informed that it had snowed. We were required to go out and play in it.

Imagine, journal, both my confusion and Mirtai’s as we bundled ourselves and strode out of doors. Play is not something that we are familiar with. As I was about to question the activity, a snowy missile struck my face. Immediately, I retaliated, but my skill was poor and I soon had to seek cover from D.A.’s expert onslaught.

While I assembled an arsenal, that tricky magician recruited Mirtai to the cause. Soon the three of us were exchanging fire, two against my one. With cover, I downed D.A. and drove Mirtai back behind a tree. As I sprang forth to the open, a prone D.A. declared surrender. I should have suspected a ruse, but I confess that excitement disabled my better calculations. I moved in to secure my victory. Then, with a final, brilliant blow, D.A. dislodged the entirety of a load of snow from the tree branch above onto me.

I conceded defeat to my superior opponent. Mirtai refused to come out from cover herself until a cease-fire was declared. I do not think she enjoyed it as much as the two of us, but knew not to refuse a command from D.A. Blankets, hot drinks and a comfortable seat by the fireplace concluded the ritual.

It was enjoyable fun.

Vic

Vicajin is a troll, a roguish sort, with whom I have many entertaining chats. The Regent calls him "Boots," which I do not entirely understand, because as a troll, he does not actually wear shoes. He and I do not agree on the philosophy of love, but we do interact well enough.

He is frequently occupied with the task of chasing skirts, in a literal sense. Any attractive female in his vicinity that is dressed in this manner will gain at the least, a whistle, or perhaps a few sly words from his mouth. He claims that these advances are only intended to jest, and that complimenting women brings them happiness.

However, he has no respect nor regard for lasting relationships. In the past, he was mated, and he boasts that he provided her with the means to go on a date with her favorite of the Tauren Chieftains. The band, not the political leaders of the Tauren race, I should specify. He mocks any formal ceremony that binds two individuals together, such as marriage or lifemating. 

Yet, I do find him amusing. We have battled together in the field on scattered occasions, and he is a competent fighter. He bemoans that he has never seen me dressed in anything more feminine than the sable plate. I think it unlikely that he ever will.