Rorrek

The Gryphon's Quill

24 posts in this topic

August 15th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Surfal'o ana, dalah'felo.

Write do I now, whilst burn doeth all and yet come hath reinforcement relieving, so to impart my thoughts unto thee ere thy return. Prepare must I for thine awakening and, should befall the worst, might thou perhaps know in writ that my musings were ever with thee until the end. Yearn do I to but remain near and with Vatya, our child... As oft spoken had I ne'er foreseen adoption of innocent as differing as she, and yet now may I believe naught else for become hath she daughter true. Dwell long do I amidst such recollections of the both of thee when had is lull in the siege of our world.

And yet, oft struggle must I to lapse thither in reprieve as sullied is my brow with faces all of those lost. Eyes sightless and voices silenced loom as pall suffocating as of late to which but deepen doeth such with every battle waged. Through trauma recent art summoned forth wounds of old and campaigns past. Naively had once I believed to have endured the worst and now suffer do I for mine ignorance. Girded was I with faith in those as we when tread was harbor sullen ere the Broken Shore, such to temper my fearfulness. Spied had mine eyes thereabouts faces of yore whom all bore countenance the same save perhaps for those as Carven and Blythe. Recall do I once their post as officers of enlistment when built was Valiance Keep long ago... Disgust and anger rises forth now as glimpse did I relief amidst their demeanors. Relieved were they of enlistment and thence given promotion since. No longer need they stare those for whom they condemn unto the front in the eye ere giving order.

The Broken Shore... long shall such name hold both dishonor and infamy. Extent of mine experience against the likes of demons but extended unto shoring brief of Honor Hold beneath guidance of Trollbane once opened again was that damnable portal. Ne'er were such conflicts as this in ferocity or futility. Ground was gained not at all, nor were advances had from the blackened shore until come was the Third Fleet. And yet worsen would the tumult of battle therein until such was din all consuming. And so lost was my King to the ages in sacrifice final unto those sworn to protect his name... and again severed was mine heart as when thou hadst fallen. Separated were defenders as the wheat from chaff and thus wanting and amongst the latter were those as myself found.

And yet now resistance falls to those as I whom hath failed thee. Crippled still is the Alliance and thence clarion is come the call to arms. Summoned forth art any that may answer in defense of kingdom and people, be they remnant of the shore or militia anew. So torn am I from thy bedside constantly before come may auxiliaries to relieve and allow myself hasten unto thee again. Remain do I with Vatya near thee until called is mustering... and most burdened stand my footfalls with the guilt of departure whilst thou languish within condition dire. Forgiveness, Brianna. Such is all I may ever beseech again.

Forgive me."

Edited by Rorrek
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August 17th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Hardly hath breadth of day passed and again is taken quill in hand, that which hath transpired to demand record. Ne'er believed I that ink and parchment would become reprieve after labors long amongst the Keep near end of the Draenor campaign. Ne'er shall be neglected again the sword in favor of pen as then. Offered was I position yet higher when came was return from the Broken Shore. Decline had I such with a fury to surpass any balk of bureaucracy and since departed have I now of office entirely. Nonetheless, write shall I again amid journal for thee... at least here may I envision my words to reach thee in some way.

Besieged is Dalaran. Again is sullied my word before the eyes of Vatya as come is the Legion when offered was haven. While once afar and thus delivered were child and thee thither for keeping safe hath chaos descended throughout streets opulent. Mustered was defense immediate, and come was I at once when heard was word of the arrival of Dalaran so near, but such is not solace at all. Hold shall I not those close amidst fel rains and whilst waged is skirmish upon doorstep. Surely shall emerge Dalaran victor when gathered is strength whole, bolstered anew with arrival eventual of the Alliance... and Horde. Restrain must I my thoughts from reaching thither unto such fair weather faction for now as tumult most dire is at hand and in need of brow sharp. Regardless, such decision lends my person pause and thought as toward whether the Archmage was ever truly amongst the Sons of Lothar.

Whilst thou slumber hadst thy form and child been spirited unto the depths of Ironforge in lieu of Dalaran as before. Ne'er hath force invading breached the halls beneath the mountain en masse, and lend must I faith now that impregnable it shall remain. Especially with encampment Illidari belonging before the gates. Know do I nary elsewhere to turn when naught is truly safe and loom doeth the Legion. And yet fester doeth doubt within mine heart as aided is defense frequent of Dun Morogh before the steepness of the mountain itself. Hold shall I such line... hold must I thereabouts as brought have I reason anew to uphold.

And yet most strange sound now oaths to protect without bulwark brandished as had during campaigns before. Indeed, hold do I shield no longer aloft as was once my want... Seemingly unable am I to do so since the wretched shore when shattered was the last. Hewn of Talador bough, girded amidst truesteel, and thence warded well against magics foul was shield kept. Survive had such armament the Iron tide until wielded was it as limb itself. And yet amongst the bedlam of felled demon and comrade alike had glimpsed I not axe descending from the smoke which billowed. Deft as able was response, but in truth blow glancing, and yet shatter had shield all the same. Were it not for wards engraved would perhaps mine hand have followed suit. Ne'er before had witnessed mine eyes felguard of such girth or bearing. Fallen hadst thou then and amid panic desperate was I whilst caught betwixt the field and foe anew. Pitiful were my struggles as sought had I but to make haste unto thee and thy kin, yet combat would not allow lightly such trespass. 

T'was then, amongst corpse and filth, that scavenged had mine hand sword doubly to wield. And so stand would I again with but swords short in hand as fool heedless. Feel do I still such fire which coursed through my veins as from well long untapped, the strength born of fearing. Fought had I blindly and with rage zealous. Once had I sought such whenever come was the battlefield in frenzy as to court any fate which would befall me. Thou wast the one whom pulled my likes from that wanting of the end and delved have I not amid such desire since. To think that such last gasp would not only act as my salvation upon the shore, but now stand as method preferred... Restless art my gauntlets as of late. I am wroth and  pit myself upon precipice without thee. To host melee amid quarters so close so to hold foe off kilter whilst contended against art demons fierce is madness, truly. But, persist shall I as spoken as unwieldy is shield now as if laden with burden immense. Taken now art axes forged alongside Gussof of Lunarfall to bear. My blood is awoken... may such not alter how thou peerest upon me after thy return.

Strive shall I as my King before me. Ne'er again shall foe be allowed to draw breath foremost when amidst my sight."

 

Edited by Rorrek

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August 19th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Again doeth hills golden ignite to harrow all hope from the destitute unto smoke wafting amidst Westfall. When sated is incursion amid Dun Morogh doth greaves as mine own find themselves amongst fields singed in lieu of snow. So near art invasions hither that ponder do I thine household departed upon the border of the Duskwood. Shored well was estate thereabouts and yet hardly would stand such against onslaught observed. And yet spare may I not thoughts long thither as stand must be had atop Sentinel Hill.

Ne'er thought had mine ears to know again command of Marshal Stoutmantle since ended was the Northrend campaign. Lost was Farshire and thence myself shipped unto reaches far, to fall eventually amongst the Westfall Brigade. So far hath come the People's Militia... and yet appear doth those as they now fallow as the lands they protect. Amid disarray is oft triage to which benefit would all if only thou wast present, dalah'alah. Nonetheless doeth stout they remain, a people most hardy indeed. Reminiscent is such fending against invasions demonic as when met were behemoths hewn of stone and iron throughout the Grizzly Hills. As then art we now but as mortals fleeting which seek to hack upon the ankles of giants. Without doubt art times dire when preferred would be again the routing of Defias vermin instead.

And yet write must I now unto thee word of sorrow further still, my love. For now quill in hand that thou hadst bestowed is all which remains of my gryphon. Lost is companion tireless, if not most stubborn and proud as well. Flown had we amidst riders of Stormwind returning unto the field when beset was formation from above. Hellions winged scattered all when assailed were our troop. Whilst upon maneuvers evasive had sought I to delve low and thus deter demons vile from pursuit... and thence was flight disrupted from below. Erupt had spire Legion erected in fel burst to which caught was gryphon, flames unnatural to devour through plates girding. Awoke had I thereafter atop beast once noble... diminished to remains contorted and scorched upon landing haphazard. Bequeathed was such mount, magnificent and amidst prime, upon the end of operation Shieldwall. Seek shall I to remember them as then as opposed to fate ignoble. Deserving was it of retirement upon aerie on high for service faithful and long, and perhaps would such have been if given were they unto rider greater than I...

Roil doth the skies as sea tumultuous whilst burn doeth the hillocks beneath. As word is penned must brow be steeled against thrum constant of infernals afar. Innumerable and without caution art the demons as dole doeth they destruction in waves unrelenting. And thus is come conclusion which chills all marrow and sinew within me.

Overwhelm could this Legion our defense whenever desired.

Endless art they as felled art the same commanders repeatedly. With ease could flood this army any lone province until drown did all amongst felfire and demon ilk. And yet... refrain do they from such. Allowed art those as we to muster again and prepare for encounters thereafter. Ponder do many aside from myself as to why and so I shall tell thee. Believe doeth the Legion that victory is assured. Desire doth the demons for our numbers to be their greatest upon each battle so to reap the most casualties. Content is the Legion to gradually raise the frequency of their assaults in lieu of smothering us at once. Warred have I long enough to know a siege of attrition when such is glimpsed. They bleed us at their leisure... and such hubris may be our sole hope. 

And yet such hope, as sliver frail, is most difficult to see beneath the umbrage of vessels hideous that loom overhead. Obelisks below and above phase unto existence to pour forth fusillades ceaseless. Pierced art the heavens with beams corrupting to birth portals likewise and thence come doeth the demons again. For each invader slain doth scores more appear to wreak havoc and beleaguer. With each sortie do mine eyes glimpse pitchfork and armaments desperate amongst the defense.

Sally must I again ere come art reinforcement with which to relieve our persons. May I return again hither to write as love do I thee. 

Farewell."

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August 22nd, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"The weariness consumes as tremble doth blood and bone akin. Indeed, fatigue unending is as foe relentless as the Legion itself for which drudge forth doeth all beneath the clout of exhaustion. Grasp weakly do I upon wakefulness, lest mine eyes open unto world razed should vigil fall. Mayhaps sleep eternal shall claim me as well? Banish must I such thoughts as but poison shall they and hasten the waning of my will.

Sought have I to fulfill allegiances of old when ended art the invasions southward upon the Eastern Kingdoms. Atop saddle unfamiliar of gryphon Wildhammer kept doeth I endure flight of Ironforge unto the far north. A sorrow, as wound blighted and festering, comes forth as glimpse do I the remains of Hillsbrad. Whilst once lush doth such province now resemble corpse and husk. Hardly may discern one the fel from beneath that as the miasma and plague which ruins the land. And yet, here dwell still allies stalwart and in need amid the Stormpikes. 

In truth is mine aid paltry as tarry may I only until seen art clouds foreboding upon the southern horizon. Anxious is mine hand to linger too long from thee and Vatya within the mountain. Soon shall too great the tumult be and thus set my greaves amidst the snows before the gates of Modimus, unable to answer the call of such distant clan again. Yet, for now, doeth raise I mine hand alongside the kin of Vanndar against the Legion which comes. Well is it to know skirmish amid those as Grimhammer and Haggerdin again as within days of yore. Claim do I only part meager as quarrel largely doeth felspawn against the likes of the Horde whom hath claimed Hillsbrad. Combat do I upon the fringes as the Wildhammer of Aerie Peak and the Bloodfang pack to the south, thereafter to gaze down upon Tarren Mill from the fingers of Alterac.

The Horde... even now doth they seek reprisal and dagger against those Alliance whom hath set boldly forth to deny the demons foothold within their borders. And yet, such was always the price for seeking compromise with their kind. The Broken Shore stands as testament which hath echoed throughout history and campaigns past. Again doth rise the fury within me as when felt is mine helplessness toward thee, dalah'surfal. Though striven toward is peace, as is noble and purpose of war, doeth again such churls provoke and thwart needlessly. Girded is mine heart with a hate that, after each trespass, seethes unbearably. However... temper must I this tempest anger unto blade honed. Come is enemy true and to indulge in grudge blackened would be dishonor unto all. Swallow must we our pride and thence bury wounds grieving beneath duty absolute. It shall only be as one that Azeroth may stand before the onslaught of Sargeras.

Pray shall I amidst thy name for fortitude lasting. Know do I not whether possess I the strength to bide. Even before the end doeth smolder mine ire as loth am I to relinquish the enmity within. Especially now as proclaimed is the Banshee Queen to be Warchief, and with her rising the toll of death knells many. Remember do I the betrayal of Angrathar and thence the clamor for war renewed. Remember do I when summoned were patriots all before my King and thus rallied unto Lordaeron for the battle of the Undercity. Seen have I the truth of the Forsaken beneath crypt and canal forlorn. Ne'er forget shall I the bodies mangled and cries silenced of those amongst apothecary cage, tormented and twisted unto abominations foul. The plagues therein wrought... Knighthood thereafter could erase not such sights from mine eyes. It is this which now leads the Horde.

Unify must forces all in defiance of the Legion, and yet wariness should reign surely when met is this Horde again. Though needed art one another would trust be but merely shattered as before. Ally untrustworthy is of lethality greater than the most ruthless of enemy... Whilst soar do I o'er the remnants of Southshore do ponder I the warnings of Lady Proudmoore.

How long shall concord tenuous last until betrayed art those as we again?"
 

Edited by Rorrek

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August 25th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Truly is beholden the Alliance unto the lines of Bronzebeard and Mekkatorque for commission of the Deeprun. Such tram once built amidst aftermath of the Second War to strengthen bond betwixt kingdoms now pulses as lifeline unto both, proving worth and debt immeasurable. Ne'er before have seen I such haste within the tunnels nor foreseen mine own footfalls among them. Glimpse do I faces countless, marred with strain as mine and all for whom art thankful for reprieve granted upon transit. Far preferable is the clamor of rail and track in lieu of volley and throng felborn... and yet as well doeth seep unease as overwrought art all amid such passages. Though respite to the ear is wait perturbing unto brow as silence before storm that awaits with maw agape upon either destination. Such is rotation set upon defenders all, cycled to and fro betwixt Westfall and Dun Morogh so had may be repose brief whilst en route. 

Unceasing is the Legion now, without pause or relent in assault, as knew had I would come to pass. Deemed hath the demons that thinned art we enough to be culled with prevalence greater than before. Lulled was Azeroth to response of pattern harrowing for which dictate had entirely our foe. Now is come the shift of tactic and pace so to see our persons off balance and thus ill prepared in counter distraught. Falter must we not upon this crest hour, lest shame we those lost before us. And lost have those as we gravely whilst only begun is campaign anew... Fear do I, even amidst triumph, of cost to burden when ended is such war. Endure shall I all the same so long as come is thy return, dalah'surfal. 

Weighed were my steps with trepidation when come was I as wretch unbidden unto Lion's Rest. Dared had I not before to walk amongst stones laid in sorrow and grief, and yet found had I myself thereabouts before my knowing. Wearily was made path unto the Dwarven District and so veer had I thither mayhaps at behest of hand unseen. Engrave have I the words therein the monument of our fallen upon these hands and thence writ art such names unto mine heart. Winterborne... shall expand such memorial about thy name as perish doeth others untold? Yet again, as pitted is my past, do I linger whilst claimed art those of merit more deserving in youth. Most cruel is fate to permit mercy unto me in spite of battles sought... and so too doth fate deliver kindness now as without such would I not lay alongside thee, Brianna. So come again is the wickedness of fate whose humor is grievous and without sympathy lasting. Allowed is my return unto thee and yet thou art still with pall sickly and immutable before all pleas.

Restless is slumber with dreams bittersweet of joys held and now torn from my grasp. To awaken is torment as is to close mine eyes to begin with, even as cradled is our daughter amidst embrace sincere. Lay must I trust now unto those whom keep thee to which hope shall I that truths dwell amongst the words of thy kin and Chancellor. May that as my voice and warmth delve into the darkness and light thy path as beacon, dalah'alah. And so beseech must I forgiveness once more, even in writing, as languish may I not amid such thoughts for long. Turn must I from said musings or succumb shall I to despair assuredly. However, this waking world yields naught but the netherspawn to ponder and thus devoured am I regardless of choice.

Silent is the Keep of Stormwind, without word or command of King Anduin... Ashamed am I to know doubt unto the crown. Son of the Lion is he and perhaps, within shadow looming of Kings past, shall mettle his own be shaped unto the sword needed now. At least is had rumor of the Kirin Tor and hope renewed through artifacts unbeknownst for which they now seek. To trust such word of mouth is risk daunting, but where else shall hearts all now gather besides the abyss of misery which awaits in surrender? 

May these... 'pillars' prove true and the tide be turned ere utterly far gone is the hour of salvation."
 

Edited by Rorrek

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August 29th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Returned is hope.

Though bleak remains the warring and without surcease the demons is burden lifted now of my shoulders. Long hath mine heart wavered with beat timorous, and though frail still, doeth such dare now thrum feverishly as if desiring to be torn asunder in jubilation. Yet smolder doth wrath and anger unabated, swathed now amidst shame of fearing previous, but embers therein consume not this rapture felt. Cast down is doubt with relief timely as known is thy return with certainty unwavering, dalah'felo. May such withered resolve as mine own amongst the days of late be forgiven. Bulwark peerless should I have been unto our daughter against distress, and yet falter had I entirely. Rejoice doth she to which nigh pained is the waiting to be until again open doeth thine eyes. 

Felled were my wings and yet gale is come as if aloft doth soar my steps... To reckon that aid upon hour most grim would come of sources unlikely as seen. Nary a thought was given thither as foresee could I not deliverance among such likes, yet shudder do I to ponder now conclusion without. Foremost was guidance of Blacksun whose appraisal gave forth direction anew unto need dire. Thereafter was come the privateer. Balk might I have once before calamity as this if proffered was claim that audacity belonging unto Sergeant Steel would yield such favor and boon. Vow have I to glimpse upon their personage with gaze renewed henceforth. Lend shall I hope that likewise may the kingdom be in mercy for sake their own, lest come art gallows haunting. And thence must ne'er be forgotten that which saw cleansing in earnest the splendor of thy form, dalah'surfal.

Sworn is debt sincere unto Nomu Highmountain. Remain do I amidst awe of this Elder of the Cenarion Circle for seen have I his craft. With vigor shall be returned that rendered should ever call the Horns of the Shu'halo mine hand. Woven were arts druidic upon thee and thus succored were body and soul. Drawn was taint of fel wound and still resound doth mine ears with chanting enigmatic. Recede would veins stygian and corrupt before such healing and thus sapped was curse draining of thee at last. Deserving as well is gratitude unto thy kin for without warding constant of the Chancellor would thou hast been lost ere come was this cure at all. Unbeknownst art means employed at behest of Steel to sway the Elder toward task hither, but eternal is my thanks. Though known is reckoning eventual which shall befall the Horde must retain those as we temperance and wisdom. Guided must fury be so fall doeth retribution upon those deserving in lieu of all. Such Tauren, looming and kind, shall stand as reminder upon my brow when come is wrath again. Tremble had I before sight of thy breath eased and whole, absent of rhythms ungainly. Restored is my breath alongside thee, Brianna. 

With reluctance is departed once more thy bedside. Joined is the fray as summoned before, but fall shall mine axe with thew emboldened. Unrelenting shall be the dirge of rage forged upon fiend until thou art wakeful. Near is come reunion fraught with yearning and naught, be such of the Nether or elsewhere, shall deny me this. Hear shall I thy voice once more and with mirth weep before thee. Held shall be thine hand and known again the bliss for which thou hast bestowed upon me.

Awaken."
 

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August 30th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Exhaustion reigns and yet for once since began was threat demonic is such ache due instead to haste and happenstance promising. Stiffened is my form of wielding long the heft of steel blood drenched. Indeed, most welcome is reprieve tentative even whilst such is born amidst flurry of maneuvering advantage. Quiet may I not this rising within for such permeates all amongst us. Ignited is pyre of renewal and thus pursued doeth those as we resolve returned, hearts roused of stupor despairing.

Halted art the invasions throughout the breadth of Azeroth for now, stymied with an abruptness unforeseen. Vanished hath Dalaran unto the Broken Isles and thence spilled forth had shockwave arcane which seemingly disrupted portals and vessels Legion belonging. Immediate was rejoicing widespread, boisterous and resounding, and yet thereafter abandoned. Remain doth there much to be done. Surely shall assail armies putrid again the world at large when regained art bearings, yet bent now is gaze fel burning toward these isles... Could such 'pillars' hold merit so vast as to enthrall the Legion itself wholly? Belief as this now spurs those as we forth at pace grueling, lest squandered is such breath long denied us. Need would I patience endless to recount unto thee all that which hath transpired amid hours span, dalah'surfal.

Memory of thee and thus sight cherished hath proven, as known, invaluable respite amongst tasks frantic. Need I merely envision thy beauty no longer beset with veil of curse woeful to swell in vitality and purpose. Ne'er more joyous hath I seen Vatya, and with delight doeth she even now see unto the exuberance of thy quarters in anticipation of thine awakening. May neither of thee begrudge my following of the front. Torturous art farewells temporary, but solace is had at least in ease of travel for which Dalaran provides in portals numerous. Upon each instance of return dost thou appear greater in strength. May thine eyes glimpse firstly those as Vatya and I upon thy beddings when able is thy form, such now released of fel fettering.

With regret must I close shut journal as this and return unto labors earnest, dalah'endal. Gathered art droves, stirred of realms near and far, amid the magocracy. Seek do all in ways differing means with which to drive against the Legion and lacking shall I not be found again. To such ends have heard I rumors of summons had at behest of Danath Trollbane unto warriors willing. Uncertain am I whether presence as his should be inspiring or omen ill as ne'er thought had I that lured could be the Commander of Honor Hold. Nonetheless is word rampant of excursion's folly unto the Broken Shore. Therein supposedly met were warband of Vrykul which stood against the demons and thereafter... Val'kyr. Thou hast peered unto my recollection of campaign endured beneath the shadows of Utgarde. Such sighting of their likes is both unexpected and disturbing, yet mayhaps sentence fitting for one as I. 

Sent forth have I word unto our household for retrieval of armaments specific. Forged in mockery of the Ymirjar were such vestments and serve may they now well. Oft would the warriors of Ymiron but need glimpse such armor upon one deemed unworthy to lose themselves utterly in bloodlust. As forced was ire and fury upon me as tide emerged openings for comrades surrounding, and thus hewn were giants heedless whom fell for the taunt I bore. Prepare shall I anger mine own, whetted and honed, for bout assured should prove they hostile. Face shall they man unlike that met amidst the fjords of  Northrend long ago. Suffer have we enough of biding through defenses withering and desperate.

Begun is the counter offensive at last."

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September 1st, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Unnerving art encounters against wraiths winged as the Val'kyr. Herald doth such harbingers cold deathly with presence and voice to disconcert the very soul. Steel had I myself in preparation of confrontation similar unto those endured amongst the frozen wastes. Instead was I met with allies unpredicted. Gather had many ere my coming upon the landing to bear witness toward sight peculiar. Felt was not veil pallid, but instead radiance enveloping beneath wings golden. Guarded was beam lustrous, as gossamer girded amid sunlight, with spear of Val'kyr wondrous in form. Heard had I of their being alongside Vrykul recently met and yet assumed had I likeness as those at command of the Lich King. Usher onward did such flaxen shieldmaidens those whom followed the path of the sword, and thus with caution had I stepped upon shaft glimmering which awaited. Upon end stood nape with rush thereafter for which no bracing could shore whilst ascend had my person unto the clouds above, hands lithe felt beneath mine arms in lifting swift. Vision thereafter caught my breath with a stillness as come was I unto the Halls of Valor. 

Before halls grand am I both humbled and awestruck in measures equal. Now known is name imparted of halls gleaming gold and crimson as the 'Skyhold,' wreathed amidst heavens and cascades bewildering. Bastion otherworldly belongs unto Odyn, watcher Titan crafted, whose brother Tyr is writ ancient in influence upon humanity. Collected hath being colossal champions worthy among the Vrykul for eon. Transformed art aspirants able from flesh to stormforged, known thence only as Valarjar. And yet now is domain described unto thee thriving with sights perhaps ne'er known to such citadel lifted within times immemorial. Folk hardy, of all walks and creed, regardless of faction prior now stride amongst the Valarjar. Ne'er seen before have I such diversity concentrated even throughout the spires of Dalaran. Come have warriors ungrudging of Azeroth unto this hallowed place in pursuit of worthiness and might combined against Legion foe. Alight is the air with the thrum of war. Though wary do I remain toward those Horde sworn would none dare attempt defy peace enforced hereabouts, especially when had may be spar instead. Suffused is all with the songs of weapon and drink rousing that art contested only by hammer falls upon anvil.

Tremble doeth mine hands as smith before forge magnificent and likewise flock others of craft the same. Ceaseless is the honing of metals beneath gaze withering of Helgar, Master Smith unto Odyn and overseer of all forging. Witnessed have I others offering works immaculate unto such Valarjar as to seek approval and fame. All thus far hath known failure shattering. Weapons unworthy art cast unto the maw of the forge as with pride of the smith before them. Still, undaunted do I stand before task as this in allure of the Forge of Odyn. Such construct wields fascination mystifying and primordial. Caught is my gaze oft amidst the flames... and light doeth such desire within to hone craft stoic as ne'er dreamed. Worn hath mine axes against demon rampant and Horde wayward until dulled art edges stout. In time shall mettle and prowess ages wrought be put to test in forging of armaments anew.

Gather have I yet my thought and heart entirely toward such coming together, despite knowing of necessity severe. Diversified and scattered art those as we as ne'er imagined whilst as well unified in obligation. Clash doth vengeance of old and need newfound to which pulled art many hither and yon betwixt such allegiances. As wounded art the Alliance and Horde hath that as our callings brought Azeroth together instead. Stepped have even I from duty of kingdom and in truth art more Knight errant than Captain now... what shall come of this when ended is the war of survival? Ponder shall I such musings when within sight is victory for our world. For now is purpose revealed with clarity. Train shall I amongst the Valarjar of Odyn, technique of blade to be sharpened against warriors of races all... Though mayhaps focus should foremost be had unto departing proper of the Skyhold. Most violent and urgent is fall from the halls and upon knee have I retched, to the amusement of passerby afterward.

Set is expedition soon unto the province of Stormheim in pursuit of relic with which to summon the loyalty of Ulduar and Keepers therein. With hope shall this 'Gjallarhorn' be retrieved with all haste. 

May thy blessing as Val'kyr brilliant and mine own be upon me, dalah'felo."

Edited by Rorrek
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September 4th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"As thunder was our arrival unto Valdisdall. Without subtlety or subterfuge had come announced the warband of warriors assembled at behest of Hymdall, Guardian of the High Gate. As amidst the Skyhold was comprised our party of stalwarts myriad and thus prevail did wariness toward one another. Made were preparations as to seek the Gjallarhorn, task which undoubtedly would require search long, when return had vanguard which sought to bring bearing of the land. Brought had they largely instead accounts divisive that nigh boiled o'er from tension to outrage amongst our number.

Erupt hath conflict staggering betwixt forces Gilnean and Forsaken throughout Stormheim. Fallen is the Skyfire and such loss nigh swept mine hand as well unto the reinforcing of Greywatch in lieu of task initial. How word of such conflict hath not spread as wildfire engulfing bewilders, though perhaps that may be attested unto the will of Greymane... Falter would have our warband gathered before infighting imminent if not for wrath of Riala the Hearthwatcher. Vrykul maiden as she kept the post of Valdisdall in name of the Valarjar and quell did she all embers which threatened to consume our task ere began was search at all. All whom dared oppose her met the ground with due haste and brutality until restored was semblance of order. Nonetheless was that as our band divided betwixt factions thereafter, and desert would many in favor of aiding factions respective. Blame them may I not as deeply could feel I such desire as well. Yet, gird had I myself to endure and fulfill purpose greater at hand.
  
Upon encampment was come elder of repute amongst the local Vrykul. Proclaim himself did he as 'Havi,' and kept were ravens menacing amidst his wake. Peculiar was this seer whose gaze was filled with a knowing most strange. Nonetheless, guidance were lent from such font of wisdom and heed did those as we his word. Disperse had warband unto groups roving and many across the land as to hasten our bequeathed charge. Advise had this seer for group mine own to make way unto the Runewood and thence beseech aid of guardian ancient therein. Boughs beauteously auburn laden evoked fondly memory of thee, dalah'felo. Amidst such forest swathed within autumn hues was met keeper spoken. Vydhar, tree vast and venerable, knew of the horn sought. Offer had tree living and with countenance ritual with which to summon forth spirit of warrior-king bygone whom last held vigil o'er the Gjallarhorn.
 
So depart did sabatons unto the Field of Fallen Kings as to summon forth Svergen Stormcloak and thus call his oath to bear. Humble were graves numerous to which beguile would sight presence of remains kingly at all. Convene would the warband wholly again thither as conclusion similar were had elsewhere as well. However, as warn did Vydhar before, would seek the Bonespeaker clan to defy us staunchly. Wield doeth such clan spellcraft foul and ruthless for which swiftly become was sward battlefield. Yet, deeds befouling of our foe granted favor of the Valkyra upon our warband and driven were their likes from our steel. Upon end of day was awoken spirit required, and yet request were bidden unto us ere disclosed would be location of our aim. Kept from the Halls of Valor was such spirit in death, enslaved beneath curse Bonespeaker cast. Grant would that as he knowing of horn vaunted in exchange for release... and so sought was lifting of curse. Tire do I of the vexations of magics dark. Regardless was bound warband determined unto Haustvald.
 
Haunting and beset with rains dauntless were crypts disturbed. A wrongness pervaded the very stone where walk again doeth the dead. Hewn again was clan vile thereabouts of Vrykul dishonorable until cast were belongings of Stormcloak unto fires unnatural. Released was he of bonds unseen. Released were those of as we not of our task, to be met with word grim instead. Lost was the Gjallarhorn unto the maw of 'Jorhuttam,' worm immense which brought low this king and army his own in life. But return could band disheartened unto the Skyhold after venture wearying as to prepare again toward tracking of the beast.

Dwelt have I there since. Those as I seek not only honing of the Valarjar and to train amongst warriors likewise. Enveloped art the Halls of Valor amid curse of Helya which forbids the armies of Odyn from striding forth and smiting foes demonic. Though broken was thy curse doth such wickedness persist elsewhere, dalah'surfal. To release the Valarjar is purpose utmost and aspiration lofty of all whom reside here now. Defied must the Legion be with powers beyond our own before lost is all. And yet many fold art our enemies besides the demons which defile Azeroth. Foremost now doth stand the Helarjar of Helheim against mine order, warriors unworthy wreathed in brine and mists brackish. The Kvaldir... at last may be avenged the massacres of Tualiq and Kaskala. Only after the demise of such nemesis may be unleashed wrath unbridled of the Skyhold. And yet, whilst waged is war, doeth prepare the Legion their pawns. Arisen is tyrant within Stormheim whom kneels before masters felborn. Known is he as Skovald and in arrogance is self-proclaimed the 'God-King.' Muster doth his clan of Felskorn and seek doth they mastery of the pillars as well. 

Despite all advances doth such campaign feel but merely begun at every turn."

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September 7th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"I am whole.

Though returned was hope as thy strength was restored could such not compare to this fulfillment of prayer and desire. Thou hast awoken at last and may those as we ne'er be parted again. Surfal'o ana, my precious Brianna. 

Immediate was departure unto thee when given was summons private, thine awakening long awaited. Ne'er faster have I carried myself nor was descent mine own, be it fall resounding or upon wing of Val'kyr, ever with haste so urgent. So enraptured was I that hardly felt was landing from the heights of Skyhold at all. Bound had mine heart with such fervor as though yearning to arrive thither unto thee before me. Forgiveness for composure cast aside upon the sight of thee wakeful, yet contain could I not that as my joy. Wept had I alongside Vatya with relief profound as ended was this vigil of uncertainty despite all solace and aid bestowed. Fragment dear once cloven of my soul, stolen amidst jaws demonic, is reclaimed in thee as is the family we together have built. Nigh exhaust had I such resurgence of rapture formerly ignited within, though burn brightly did cinders still, as thrust was I unto campaign grueling again. Need I not concern myself with such as now flushed is my being with warmth reinvigorating. Ana ama'o, dalah'surfal. 

And yet now rein must I excitement unconstrained as seen were thine eyes distraught amidst return disorienting. Thy questions pleading and laden with confusion were answered as able, yet fleeting is memory when only just roused of ailment lengthy. Regardless do I beseech thee to fret not, dalah'felo. Writ shall be all amidst journal here along pages since scribed that thou needest know. Record do I such thoughts now whilst watching o'er thy tranquil slumber to which comfort immense is sight of thee and Vatya amid peace. Lay shall I tome meager upon thy nightstand ere my departure and when come art thou unto page as this shalt thou knowest all. Please, hold at bay thy rampant musings until ended art my words herein...

When fled was the Broken Shore wast thou brought unto Dalaran, city-state magus controlled returned unto the Eastern Kingdoms in defense of all. Yet, soon besieged was this as yet culminated was the strength of the Kirin Tor. Thence wast thou brought unto the mountain of Ironforge for keeping guarded. It is now but mere day before that thou wast brought again unto the Magocracy. Most wise was decision to transport thee when considered is the attack upon the Exodar recently known. Gladdened art I that held had we Vatya from returning unto the tutelage of her people there when began were the burning invasions. Fortified is Dalaran as heart of Azeroth's defiance and housed within art our means with which to banish the Legion of our world. Rest safely doeth the Pillars of Creation amidst the city but jaunt short of thy quarters, relics ancient and fathomless in potential. Surely thy kin shall speak unto thee further of that my writings have missed. 

And so lastly shall impart I this unto thee.

Blame not thyself. Know do I thine heart as thou knowest mine, dalah'alah. With thy waking shall come burden immense upon thy shoulders without fail. Alike art those as we in this, our hands restless and hearts ever within turmoil of that undone. Keen is thy gaze and yet sharper thine hindsight. Returned art thou and lose shall I not thee unto guilt unending. Of compassion is thy willfulness and mourn shalt thou those for whom under thee may hath known salvation. Those souls denied thine healing upon the darkest of hours as kept wast thou infirm and cursed. Know do I such remorse, though mayhaps not wholly the same... Know do I the depths it may seek to draw thee. Nonetheless, but implore may I for thee to holdfast unto mine hand now. Focus upon thy recovery and wellness so that thy light may be joined unto the fray once more, my beloved. I am in need of thy strength and thus cannot prevail without thee.

Thou hadst once pulled my form of grief and anguish embittered o'er decades loathing fraught. Trust in me and I shall return such favor now whilst thou seekest refuge amidst mine heart. Thou art not alone. May my words shine forth as beacon akin unto the phial that thou clutchest for which poured had I all resolve and adoration within before. 

Surfal'o ana."
 

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September 8th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Such a peculiar gift is this quill with which I now write. Elegant and pressed until silken as oft groomed was the plumage of the beast from which it came. Without end comes forth ink with nary dab unto inkwell when met is parchment, enchanted in manner astoundingly subtle. Upon feather is carried now memory saddening since loss of my gryphon alongside recollections warm.

Began was this journal for thee, so that the world returned unto would perhaps not overwhelm as readily. Thou hast, with hunger insatiable, seen pages all within already. Glimpse had I both delight and grief amidst thine eyes thereafter. Once thou hadst awoken had I believed that my writings would end... and yet hither doth return my thoughts again.

As if habit had mine hand sought such tome upon my departure this morn. Though wearied still could plainly be seen the luster of approval amid thy gaze. A silent blessing should endeavor I to write further and on. Ne'er before have kept I record as this, nor believed had I that desire would arise to continue thusly. There is merit in keeping account of one's musings, if only to reflect upon morrows after... Decided am I to write onward, yet now for sake mine own instead. May that written prove revealing and of use.

That aside, time is had yet before the eve to fulfill promise unto Vatya. Desire doeth she and I visit toward the florist so to decorate thy lodgings freshly. Miss doth she, and perhaps thou as well, the garden of thine household in all its splendor. Quite taken is our daughter with aethril and foxflower, though want is shared betwixt us for the elusive starlight rose. Such a delicate flower that defies all hands save for the most skillful. Surely shalt thou seekest such thyself when able, dalah'felo."
 

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September 10th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Hours countless have I spent now within the Arena of Glory amidst the Skyhold. Lost is not the irony of such moniker upon one as myself whom hath ne'er sought renown. All throughout doth gazes looming of Vrykul lend forth glances curious toward mine armaments. Though absent art the Ymirjar upon the Broken Isles may surely designs wrought be recognized still. Those among their kin that stare further hold oft disdain in both sneer and glower, such to be expected as regard doeth they mankind as but aberration feeble. Regardless, I am undeterred and thus whet mine experience unto mastery against all challengers. Such arrogance shall be weapon potent within my gauntlet as but fool underestimates their foe before having fought.

However, truly toilsome hath my training been as seized of late am I with desire of the forge even amidst sparring intensive. Care must I to deny sight wandering toward end opposite of the halls as thence caught would it be upon the place of my craft... Mine hand trembles even now to envision such works yet endeavored. Resolve must I to press such urge and allure aside, lest dull doeth edge once keen during bout. Most oft is come challenge from warriors of the Vrykul persuasion, mine armor borne suspected to indeed provoke such as in times of yore. Foremost in difficulty when called am I to task is Bjornsdottir, champion and shieldmaiden whom frequents the ring. Though known well art means of war belonging unto their likes hath she laid low my form mercilessly in duels successive. Arise have I thereafter upon each defeat and seen is respect of the tenacity for which hath been brought. Then come is my charge again and become is circle as battlefield tempering ere exhaustion tolls.

Marvel do I at how vastly my withstanding against these giants differs now as opposed to when first come was I unto the Howling Fjords. I have changed. No longer is had formations stout and enveloping as to hew adversary singular with blades many. Now come am I unto battle with footfalls aggressive and hounding, steel to clash in dirges furious as to lend no pause unto mine enemies. Astonish do I mine opponents amidst the Valarjar as in contrast to means favored is mine height which pales surely in comparison. Surprise do I even myself... Compared oft have I been hereabouts to boar cornered as depicted in visage of my pauldrons. Verily, fight do I now more akin unto Ignaeus than Lordain or Lothar as once conditioned amidst the house of Halbren. Though liberating in some sense doeth now stand defiantly that as mine anger and bloodlust when come is the fray again. Ne'er before hath such traits felt so arduous to restrain, to have begun thereafter and since the Broken Shore.

Anxiously I ponder... nay, worry must I not as knave uncertain. Striven have I thus far since felt was shift drastic in heart and hand toward honing of this rage. Of course must balance be kept, yet benefit greatly may I of methods bolder. Falter had I with prudence held aloft before and nigh lost was that most dear. 

Ne'er shall I sup from the bulwark of passivity again."
 

Edited by Rorrek
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September 13th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Curse do I the name Jorhuttam and with gladness proclaim at last the great worm slain. Tracked was lair of such beast unto the summit of Highmountain and thereafter rallied warband once more. Though without dissension betwixt our ranks as before was there still much to immediately endure. Callous was the mountain toward our ascent and forced were several of our number to return, lest they succumb to the elements. Before long was warband halted entirely with column beneath shields upraised as to thwart the castings of stone hefted by the savage Drogbar. Measured was advance of the whole whilst forward had those as I endeavored in vanguard to rout such harrowing upon us. Defend had the heathens their peaks with zealous fury as worship did they the beast we sought. Our tumult and conflict cascaded down the mountainside until made were their likes to retreat. Remained was need still to press further unto the pristine crest, a feat most regrettable.
 
Astounding was chill felt yet beneath leathers and furs kept amidst mine armor upon the windswept channel, that worn to have warded once the colds of Northrend. And thus come again were the craven Drogbar of their hovels, seeking to flank and disperse our incursion. Though of thew and forms stone melded were their ilk nonetheless cut down before us, and thence drudged drum with which to summon our quarry. Howl had the summit winds in protest as if to dissuade our cause, but sounded was hide taut and thus called Jorhuttam amongst our own. Breath of the worm was as avalanche blinding. The foul burrower amidst confusion rendered devoured many warriors without preference, and lost would have been yet more to its thrashing o'er the cliffs if not for the graces of the Val'kyr. Even sundered were mine axes against the hide of the abominable thing... and yet triumph was had in the end. Drawn was the Gjallarhorn of its gaping mandibles.

Return should I have then unto the Skyhold, yet restlessness forbade such reprieve as brooded upon still was the battle weathered. My decision instead came to venture unto the region below and survey its faring, sentiment shared evidently more so with those belonging unto the Horde amidst our warband. Our cause extends beyond the reaches of Stormheim, after all. So caught was I without delay amid skirmishes rampant across borders winding against the wayward Tideskorn, they foremost at mercy of my vent. And, thereafter, the throng of battle followed suit throughout the interior. Appear doeth these Drogbar with frequency unsettling, to come forth unbidden in wake of war worms. Cunning is their geomancy in spite of their barbarism. The chieftain Dargrul hath named himself 'Underking,' and claim doth this tyrant the mountain by might of the Hammer of Khaz'goroth. Yet another king self-proclaimed whose realm must be usurped. My weariness must contend with disgust for these despots which but hinder our efforts against the Legion.

Yet, it is not this warring that captures my quill whilst I write now. That which hath ensorcelled my brow art the Tauren of Thunder Totem. Lingered have I amongst them as welcomed heartily was mine aid.  A most serene locale, if not for the constant clatter of bolas and harpy shriek. T'would appear that clans many hold allegiance unto the Highmountain tribe specifically... ponder do I relation unto Elder Nomu. Admittedly do I house unease toward the loyalties of Highmountain once ended is the Legion threat. However, yet noted have I overtures of the Horde as had been with the Taunka long ago. Reliant art the tribes upon one another in balance harmonious. Surely would that as they deny any singular offer of faction afar as to preserve this. There is much to be learned amongst the humble likes of the Highmountain peoples. Parallel may be witnessed betwixt the inhabitants hereabouts and the factions of our world beyond. Need doeth the Tauren these Drogbar much as the Alliance must rely upon the Horde now. Without the other within such grim days shall both surely perish. May the lessons of this mountain keep well throughout this campaign for the benefit of all. 

That is enough for now, lest my thoughts spill unending. I am wearied deeply and desire naught else save for our chambers. Mayhaps bring shall I incense as offered here in bounty ere departing unto Dalaran as to ease my slumber? Would only that I could recall such dreams which elude these tiresome nights as of late..."
 

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September 16th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Late is the hour and yet lifted is this haze which hath beset my brow... at least returned is a semblance of my sense. In truth do I remain amidst bewilderment and laden with inquiries boundless, all without answer.

The last I recall...

Sounded was the Gjallarhorn. Sought had the Skyhold to call forth the Keepers of Ulduar unto their ancient charge, but come instead was news dire. Besieged was the citadel of Titan antiquity before onslaught endless of the Legion. Yet, exhausted was I still after efforts spent upon the slopes of Highmountain. Assembled were warbands of warriors and Valarjar alike to see such assault broken. To accompany those for whom amid battle would thence rely upon my fortitude when depleted was I long since would be folly, to my chagrin. And so... remain did I amongst the Halls of Valor. Thereafter sought had I the forge since denied was battle. Yes, the Forge of Odyn... Again is come this fog which eclipses my memory. However, possess do I strands of recollection and thus shall they be woven together.

I must remember.

Commit had I unto honing the art and depth of my runeforging. Steeped art the Vrykul amidst such craft as to surpass even the most worthy of Dwarven smiths. Long have I labored amongst others of similar prowess beneath the scrutiny of the Valarjar. Deny may I not the allure of the anvil within those hallowed halls. Yearn even now doeth mine heart still to uncover the secrets of that heavenly hearth. Awoken have I for days many within sweat cold with naught but embers fleeting at dreams' end. Always did tremble mine hands with desire of hammer and tongs, as if called unto furnace otherworldly... Thought had I that such was surely mere affinity or perhaps obsession for one as myself.

Then was come nothingness. 

Remember do I setting unto the forge and gazing deeply of the flames therein. Inhale had I of the fumes which were billowed of the smelting... There ends the memories for which I may trust. I am told that such transpired days ago... Lost have I days without knowing? Believe this would I not if such was not come from the mouth of my beloved herself. My body aches with a weariness as if held have I vigil unceasing for a fortnight. Truly were those of mortal bearing ne'er meant to wander such vaunted halls.

Wreathed art the flashes of vision thereafter with brume most thick. Vaguely may I recall the speaking of throats many fold, amidst tongue I know not, rising forth in song unbeknownst. When close doth mine eyes in thought to discern truth doeth flit sights of mine hands toiling before me. And yet... such were as if I was but spectator within myself and another worked through my form. As if possessed did my grasps fold and shape without will mine own. Such thought alone is perturbing, let alone the sight. Supposedly were my labors beheld from afar by watch of Councilor Catori. Lend must I my thanks, but as well inquiry unto that witnessed. Despite my lapse in knowing do I stand now myself again. Soon shall be had opportunity in meet of the Empire so that others may see my wellness restored. As well... that I have as consequence wrought.

Brought was I unto exhaustion whilst amidst such trance, to hold fruition unbidden in hand when ended was task. Lifted was I toward the great mead hall and fell had I upon feast thereabouts with hunger ravenous. Upon instinct did I consume and drink once finally awoken of my stupor. It is then that my memory resumes. In tow were carried the result of such enchantment which dwell now within the corner of my gaze. Ne'er before have I forged such weaponry as this. These... cleaving blades.

Marvelous art such armaments and surpass doeth they all weapons thus made at my behest. Swathed art the brands in runes unfamiliar beneath weaving patterns of masterful design. Hold do either but single edge bearing serrations wide, but naught else astounds as their girth and length. One would foremost perceive such colossal swords as unwieldy, save for the most gargantuan of wielder. And yet... such is deception grand. Learned have I of Elven craft unto blades of old which rendered that held nigh weightless, but ne'er could I replicate such myself. So art these cleavers in heft. Unnaturally light, impossibly so, as if but weapons a third of their breadth. Bristle do I before the advantage such may bolster unto battle upon foe unsuspecting. But marvel further may I at the mastery of techniques ancient and unknown, however; as well must I lament the loss of such knowledge which hath seeped betwixt my fingers and mind long ere wakefulness was regained. To think but began had I study unto Leysmithing and Demonsteel...

Each attempt of offering before the Forge of Odyn were shattered at the hands of the Master Smith. Even after sought was wisdom of the Ironhorn Enclave and firmament stone would Helgar but glance unto my works with disregard. What knowing doeth such Valarjar withhold in this? Said had aspirant that held aloft were such blades and proclaim did Helgar their craft to be 'adequate.' Yearn do I to lend them names, but such would be shame upon mine honor as smith. Though used were mine hands may art as this hardly be attested to the likes of mine expertise.

I know so little... 

Alas, to dwell further this night shall be to no avail. I am fatigued and must yet rest, lest I incur injury whilst lame. Surveyed have I the contours of these blades enough. As well, curves more desirous await me beneath sheets satin. Dalah'surfal... worried hath she gravely during absence long. Offer must I gratitude ceaseless for the tending she hath granted upon me since my return."
 

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September 27th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"To hold again the quill is sensation seemingly unfamiliar since last I had written. 

Mine hands have known little else as of late save for hilt and handle belonging unto the blade. Await do all for turning point further upon such campaign as waded unto is drudgery endless, as if held is breath collective betwixt us. Should all that contemporary halt and warring widespread amble without fulcrum anew shall foreboding diminish that as our momentum. Amidst such conflict is time perhaps the greatest of our foes before the Legion. Such trepidation must be held at bay and suppressed whilst onward those as we endeavor. Speak may I hardly for the efforts beyond my sight, but honed at least am I upon that before me. The stalemate of the Titan-Forged must be ended.

Prepare doeth the Skyhold for tumult final against the ilk of Helya. Persist doth the drowned witch in defying the Valarjar aid unto Azeroth. Fall doeth the combating of the Helarjar unto those of us amongst warbands mortal, lest ne'er ended is the mist wreathed yoke of Helheim. So spent art my days, vanquishing foes unto the brine from whence they were dredged. Preferred art the folly of the Felskorn for at least doeth their likes remain fallen when struck down. Meld doeth the hours and battles unto one another until distinguished may they not be at all. It is such lengthy taxing of my spirit which hath birthed a slothfulness when departing Brianna's bed each morn. Truly, I am loth to leave her warmth and caress as such is balm unto body and soul. Yet, tend hath she not my wounds and weariness so that I might lay idle. Alike stand our hearts in such regard.

She is restless. Tedious is the mustering of her strength again and thus hath she sought reprieve amidst labor. Seek doth she oft study of the city of Suramar which dwells below the loftiness of Dalaran. Even drawn hath she our daughter Vatya amidst such ventures... Know do I too well the gnawing pains of waiting and furthermore of ignorance all consuming. May she derive solace of such effort and fruition where in likewise mystery I have faltered. The answers sought within the pages last recorded elude me. Helgar will speak not of that inquired and lends but a smugness in knowing unshared. Perhaps disclose shall he that desired unto my brow in time? Doubtful, but hope may I otherwise nonetheless.

That aside... the cleavers forged wield with a magnificence befitting their sight, however; as well with a peril most perplexing. Ere the first battle with they in hand had I worried of their lack of heft. Surprise was met when come was the fray. Sink did the blades, as if thirsting, unto flesh and bone with weight considerable. Unexpected was this and nigh thrown awry was my stance and bearing when shift had their burden in such manner. Envision could I thereafter the sneer of Helgar toward my confusion. Though marvelous shall such weaponry require much time to master. Still, gratitude do I lend unto such gifts imparted through mine hands as spectacle art they to behold. With such curious armaments may I contend with those of stature far greater than I with methods entirely unknown before.

My sight is now come unto village upon the farthest reaches of the Suramar province. This 'Jandvik' is supposedly home unto Vrykul honorable and thus perhaps allies eventual. Mayhaps seek shall I information as well to aid Brianna amid her pursuits of the Nightborne whilst nearby..."

Edited by Rorrek

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October 5th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Even now doeth mine hands tremble with rage. Sought have I to temper and dilute such amongst the clamor of battle o'er these last days. It is to no avail, and but perhaps time shall lessen this seething revulsion. 

Velmon.

Truly ill begotten is the humor of fate to offer both blessing and curse as encounter betwixt us. Long now have I toiled ere the walls of Jandvik in defiance of the Sashj'tar that seek to ensnare the settlement amidst their vile coils. Such skirmishing as of late hath imbued my personage with gratitude for avoidance fortunate of Vashj'ir during campaign bygone. Each clash upon these shores is to court grave drowned beneath trident and net weighted, those unwary dragged unto the deep. Describe may I not my contempt to have been met with sight of such a detestable wight upon return from battle against the Naga incursion.

Simply loitering amid the centre of the village beside associate looming and of the same bearing... Of course, recede hath she unto the sanctuary of the Ebon Blade once more. Lividly do I remember the heft of my footfalls whilst I was covered amidst blood and brine in approach. But offer did the craven words paltry and hollow. Even dared had they to attempt speak of justice... as if bear did they knowing of such at all. Glimpse had I neither remorse nor guilt within the pall of their gaze as defend had they their ruinous deeds. As if their massacre of innocents amid Mulgore were justified. The disgust and outrage rises within me again as then before the mere thought.

Attack had I then with intent to see their ilk put down once and for all, lest those with hands unsullied suffer at her behest again.

Time was there not long ago when perhaps heeded would mine hand their plea, hilt thereafter stayed so to listen. Such time hath long since passed. Eluded hath she once before execution lawful and emptied am I of pity for their plight. Though enemy true is the Legion would 'aid' of one as she but ensure loss. My regret lay only in failing upon such task when come was opportunity unbidden. Perhaps succeed would I have if not for interruption of runecaller for whom held ear of the Jarl... but, it is not feat small to fell a death knight either. At least effective were the dormant runes engraved upon mine armaments which dispersed moderately their frost magics. Arrive had I upon behalf of the revered Valarjar and disrupt could I not the peace of Jandvik further without tarnishing the hospitality offered in kind since. Yet, spoke had I truth in that ended was such conflict not. 

Come shall retribution.

In this there is a deepening grief which wells from mine heart. Once had mine hands honed further their sword and thus began was bond. To know that technique their own would be turned upon those without means to protect themselves truly at all... and furthermore that reason offered was to be so foolishly shallow. As if such sins could benefit any amidst tumult grimly tenuous as then, their actions to but have aided those wicked. Befouled have they much whilst seeking to cower behind those claimed to be their excuse. Cross shall our paths again without doubt, and prepared shall I be...

I am wearied. 

My body doth ache and consider must I still the proposal of my beloved... The worry of her doings gnaws upon me. Trusted is that as her strength and resilience, but increasingly perilous doeth her workings among the Nightfallen become. Aid immense might she impart with finesse and upbringing noble for which she doth possess. Yet... the courts of Suramar art far cry from those of Stormwind."
 

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October 15th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"O'er the brim of page now scribed upon may glimpse mine eyes the glamour of Suramar. How resent do I now such city, regardless of splendor otherworldly. Still I am blindsided, as if flanked unwittingly by this unexpected calling from portent nearest mine heart...

Knew had I of Brianna's work, yet hardly could have been foreseen the swiftness with which she would pursue these ventures. Seek doeth she penance unnecessary for absence her own ere began was the war in earnest, a sentiment one as I may understand unnervingly well. Desperate art the Nightfallen and accept shall they all gold, magics, and guile for which she may offer. She hath thusly bestowed each in abundance.

 Worry do I for that as her haste.

The scrolls brought unto our chambers with task bidden unto her harrow my brow incessantly, the words therein to churn my stomach into tempest weak. Socialite and gentle as my beloved would of course excel at tasks of subtlety. Accomplish hath she much already upon behalf of this uprising. Nonetheless, it is one matter to dwell under guise enchanted in silence as messenger or intelligencer and another to infiltrate courts and galas decadent openly. Hewn down amongst the loyalist faction was family minor and quickly upcoming in notoriety. Taken were their visages for which one shall be bestowed upon her in role anew. Yet, incomplete is this mask which she shall masquerade beneath.

'Barandor.' 

That is the name I am to adopt upon these sorties of leisurely peril. In need is she of husband figure with which to solidify this act. Curious would be disappearance of the head of such household thereafter replacement, after all. Slated was another amongst the Nightfallen for this, but argue had Brianna that bond sincere would convince more so instead of attempt with agent unknown. And so I am to be garnish to her deception whilst trepidation flows rampant throughout my veins. 

I am not a courtier of the clandestine, though circles knightly hath before intermingled thereabouts. I am warrior and know foremost doeth my soles the fields of war in lieu of floors marbled. Battlefields in of themselves art such gatherings of wealth and luxury with dangers lurking to rival the intimacy of combat. Prefer do I war in all senses as at least therein may one know thy foe as opposed to waltzing betwixt their dagger laden maws. Again recalled art the lessons most harsh amidst House Halbren in times of yore. Tremble do I for the tutelage instilled of manners courtly hardly comes to par with her grooming within House Mackinzie.

I digress. It is fated to be as naught shall halt my love in the endeavor she desires. Immerse herself doth she o'er both culture and nuances all in preparation. Grateful am I at least for part amid such stage as to lend mine aid, as feeble as it may be. Answer shall I summons betwixt my duties among the Valarjar when needed is this 'Barandor' upon her arm. Most tenacious art these Nightfallen and even devised hath they means to circumvent the... peculiar conditioning of my tongue. The illusion given unto me shall bear injury grievous upon the throat as to dissuade speech. Such scarring is to be told as suffered at the hands of the rebellion and thus shall garner sympathy further. Thorough... Regardless, ne'er shall I know ease without mine armaments. Perhaps allowed shall be my scramseax beneath vestments meager? 

May these excursions be brief. 

Rather would I see siege befall this city and this ruse be undone."
 

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November 2nd, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"The eyes of all turn unto the centre of the Broken Isles whilst a madness unlike that within Val'sharah emerges. The opulent corruption hath begun to devour the city, nobility fearful sacrificing now the multitudes of those suffering unto their demonic masters. Felfire spreads and threatens to engulf the Nightborne. The scent of singed flesh taints the streets after the desolation of the Waning Crescent. 

Suramar burns.

Yet, despite tragedies untold, doth mine heart but tremble for one thereabouts whilst she masquerades still amongst the Midnight Court. Withstand doeth she the banter and cowardice of this aristocracy flawlessly. Such is a testament unto her dedication and patience most enduring for which when present would mine own surely falter alone. Even merely as accessory occasional unto her mask doth waver my nerves beneath such enchantments. These dire tidings at least shall soon herald the end of all impersonating amid the peerage therein. Yet, rejoice may I not. It is upon this late hour before all comes to light that such espionage is crucial unto the Nightfallen cause. Thicken doth my blood with dread at the thought of Brianna being revealed before the Duskwatch... As well, as if such worry was not enough alone doth dwell the peril of Velmon whom lurks to my knowledge beneath the caverns of Shal'Aran.
 
My brow swelters and swims beneath musings harrowing as these whilst hardly may I contemplate them at all. Immersed forcefully am I within conflict entirely different myself. Pulled have I from the shores of Jandvik to stand alongside the mortal warbands of the Valarjar in defense of the Gates of Valor. There is met once more the Felskorn of Skovald that seek brazenly the Halls of Valor. Remarkable is it that yet dulled hath these cleavers bestowed unto me as bathed hath they deeply now in blood fel-tainted. But distraction momentary art they ere the true conflict to come. There is a mustering yet realized by most as prepare doth the Skyhold to end the tyranny of Helya once and for all. No longer shall the Vrykul fear setting alight their dead at sea, lest they return as Kvaldir drowned afterward. However, to accomplish such task must scoured be Helheim and struck down the Helarjar... To delve unto such watery realm perturbs my spirit and unfastens my courage. 

The tailwind gained which turned the tables of our campaign in favor of Azeroth begins to peter at last. The morrows to come shall prove whether had shall be wind anew so that staved may be oblivion for another day."
 

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November 9th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"The sorceress hath shown her hand, renewing her foul campaign upon the Broken Isles whilst corrupting the souls of many Stormforged in the wake of her mists. Much hope is laid upon the vision of the Valarjar released for which disturbing is it to know that reversed may be the blessings of Odyn. That which once gleamed golden to become brackish and maddened, depriving Azeroth of hearts valiant with which to defeat our true enemy amid the Legion. Now doth ring the clarion call throughout the isles. Long hath prepared the Skyhold for such tumult and honed art our blades now brought to bear. Witness shall those amongst our foes their folly and seen shall be the end of the Helarjar. 

Summoned hath the Titan Keeper all, regardless should they reside not among the mortal warbands of the Valarjar, unto the Halls of Valor. Therein is held one final trial of valor to deem whether those which come art worthy to stride forth unto the depths of Helheim. Restless art the throngs amidst the Skyhold to partake of such rite and frenzied art most to prepare for bout against the likes of Eyir's chosen and the guardian Hymdall. Glimpsed have I not such zeal since opened were the hold unto those as we, the arena now laden with warriors myriad again. Seen may be styles of combat without peer intermingling as whetstones unto one another. Such is akin unto cast amongst the forge with all such fervor poured within mold to be shaped.

Felt strongly is unity through outrage among the warbands for the deeds of the sea-witch. Though hideous is warring may such oft not be avoided. Honor resides in defending that held dear, the preservation of home and family. Naught is shameful to perish in pursuit of this ideal. Those which remain art charged with that struggle, lest the fallen be vanquished in vain... It is the vileness of Helya which perverts such aspirations. To slay with treachery and thereafter raise those stalwart unto torment and slavery unending? To deny those proud the reprieve of death when protected is that precious? Truly is this unforgivable and affront to all warriors whom hath claimed battle. 

Halted must Helya be and without delay before mired is Azeroth within the cruelty of her conflict, thus impeding the traction kept upon the foremost campaign. Should fail this trial might our world be immersed within fog unending in lieu of being scorched through felfire..."
 

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November 15th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Have at thee," spoke Odyn and still doth mine ears ring. 

Ne'er before have I heard any voice as thunder resound, yet as well be laden with tone mirthful. Swear do I to have felt laughter bellow throughout such chamber whilst smote upon us was storm and fire unending. As merely breeze persistent were those as we among the footfalls of the All-Father despite all spellcraft and formations stout; however, met was the expectation laid before us at least. Mighty indeed is the witchcraft of Helya to imprison such a being.

As but one amongst many was our warband, group comprised of individuals countless that had sought the blessings of Valor. Sentinels Stormforged held at bay the masses which awaited trial their own as pass did our number unto the Ephemeral Way. To be thrust forward atop bridge rune conjured whilst having become as light incarnate, ferried with all haste to rival any trepidation felt. It is a sensation for which I have grown accustom, fortunately. Need wait had we warriors of the Skyhold for many an outsider present to regain their composure before come unto was the Hall of Glory. Thereafter was weathered the trial and thus amused the Prime Designate, blessing granted to sally forth within the lair of our foe.

Infused still with vigor brimming was stormed the tombs of Haustvald and sundered the Kvaldir which awaited. Though rise did they once cloven would halted our charge not be whilst yet felt was the sun upon our backs. Weightless were the cleavers amid my gauntlets which sliced through bonds foul and champions false alike, runes alight as hearth coals. And yet... dim had our fury once pass did we unto the threshold of Helheim. A deathly pall overwhelms and stifles all therein beneath airs stale. To pursue battle thither is not unlike the frozen north and only recovered hath my sinews by grace of my beloved's healing hands. Tread had sabatons once righteous with caution atop plank and bone in anticipation of opposition. So met were the Helarjar upon the Eternal Battlefield, wreathed in rage and shame. As silhouettes vague did they emerge from fog all surrounding before harrowing decisively so to halt our advance. Arise of the very grounds did remains unliving and lumber did shapes which loomed ungainly upon the bleak horizon. Funneled was a portion of our band away, severed and pressed before yet another horrid doom. From afar did I glimpse the gluttonous beast Guarm devour scores once brave before sounded was the horn of retreat...

Such was but my first foray unto that depraved realm.

Taken have I since to slumberbloom again so to soothe my dreams, and yet oft regardless do I awaken from visions of battle mist choked against terrors unseen. In waves doth our efforts clash against the stones of Helheim in siege relentless. Thusly have I delved unto such hellscape upon several endeavors, and yet ne'er ease doth the chilling of my blood. Began had such tribulations to meld into memory indistinguishable until the latest venture.

Winterborne. Yes, the very same once pronounced deceased and fallen upon the Broken Shore. Return had they unto us some time ago after being evidently sequestered amid the Halls of Valor. Encounter had I their person within that plane of misery to much intrigue. Stumble had I upon combat betwixt her and a spectre of sorts. Ragged was her opponent and tattered was the tabard upon him, the golden anchor a sight most unexpected. Speak did he with venom and ire whilst striking wildly as if vengeance possessed. Interfere did I not, though arduous was it to stay mine hand. Discern could I rivalry personal amid the atmosphere as though fate deemed their battle to be. Recall do I accusations peculiar, of death ignoble and perpetrated through others at her behest... Consider should I hardly the ramblings of the damned.

Hewn was head of the wight from its shoulders, Winterborne to stand victorious and relieved. Know do I well the grief of spirits belonging unto the past. Most rare is opportunity with which to vanquish such phantoms with thine own hand. Yet, naught remains idle amid Helya's realm for long. Inquire shall I o'er mead for tale prolonged, and perhaps as well toward the armaments wielded. It is no meager feat to master the shaping and bearing of Demonsteel, after all. As well, the shield upon her arm strikes my senses as peculiarity akin unto the cleavers within my possession. Yes, prefer would I greatly the conversing of arms in lieu of further battle unyielding.

May Helya be soon struck down and my fortitude endure until then." 
 

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November 18th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Long since sacked was the meager village of Vrekt upon the southern reaches of Stormheim, and yet there sighted were sails rotted of the Kvaldir amid mists roiling o'er the waves. Desire doth Helya souls anew to replenish the forces of Helheim whilst they art besieged. As though with trawl doth the Helarjar lurk upon the shores so to seize the unwary for such purpose. Seek doth our warbands to intercept these spiriting ships, lest the conflict of the Valarjar draw further on. Dissipate had the fog ere our arrival and discover did we hardly that expected...

Strewn about the village ruins were remains belonging unto a platoon of the Gilneas Brigade. Perhaps their troop had sought to reinforce the warden tower o'erlooking Hafr Fjall, thus severing Dreadwake's Landing from the Great Sea? Nevertheless, naught remained of their number and such was slaughter total. Only I remained whilst the others of our warrior band departed to return unto the fray. 

Worgen to the last and flitted with Forsaken bolts throughout. Plague canisters littered the upper dwellings, to which venture thither did I not. Clearly was the position of the undead upon the high cliffs o'er the village in ambush should attempt the Gilneans such maneuver upon their flank. Amongst the corpses did most appear congregated about the lower cliffs which divided the village, seeking obviously reprieve from the fusillade above. And yet... retreat did they not unto the shore and beyond the range of the Queensguard. Thither could they have fallen back so to return from whence they had come, and yet the bodies appeared resolute to approach not the waters. Mystified was I for only moments until noticed were the faded imprints upon the sands of feet and chains. Clumps of seaweed and debris choked the harbor. Markings upon the beach as though dragged were bodies to the sea... The Kvaldir. Caught were these soldiers betwixt pincer of the Helarjar and Queensguard, the former most likely having sailed unto the situation with relish for the opportunity.

Stare did these people unto their final stand, assuredly to their horror. I am gripped with empathy and pity as glimpsed have I from hopelessness before as well. Always hath fate spared me from such ends. Such mercy did not befall their defense, and now ended is their legacy far from home.

One seemingly survived longer than his compatriots. Drag marks from the middling of the village unto the eastern cottages led onward my intrigue. Therein was found a lone footman, cursed as his brethren. Lean did his body upon the farthest wall whilst slumped and laden with arrows upon him. Slung against the crook of his shoulder was a tattered banner. Surely the standard of his platoon. The lion insignia was faint and aged, the pole attached riddled with tally marks and etchings of the like. Recognize could I many initials of battlefields for which I have known. I ponder now the number of conflicts such banner hath born witness to, the myriad of hands which carried such aloft into war.

In truth do I hold little love for Gilneas. Yet, blame them can I not for their ire against the Forsaken. Agree do I that come shall time for the Banshee to meet justice for those as her crimes. Now is not that time and their current struggle but weakens our world, misguided and foolish. Still... they were Alliance. Linger could I not much longer and so lay did I their bodies to the torch. Taken were the tags which remained and given were these to the commander at Greywatch. Relinquish have I not the banner. Distanced have I myself from the crown and kingdom since our loss upon the Broken Shore. Regardless of thy current pursuit must we remember that from which we come. Bring shall I this banner unto battle in honor of the fallen and to bolster the morale of those in likewise straits. Mayhaps such sight shall guide those led astray in conflicts petty toward where the true battle lies.

Of course, to wield such standard in hand would be cumbersome. Stricken am I with thought and imagery resembling form of the Blademasters belonging unto the Burning Blade. Carry would such warriors the banner of their clan atop their backs. To mirror such would have once repulsed me, but long since have I begun to coat my cleavers with blazegrease already. Most effective is such abrupt eruption of flame upon steel to stagger thine opponent. Reside doeth there no shame in appropriating the techniques learned of thy foes. 

See shall I to fittings upon my back plate at once."

Edited by Rorrek
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December 8th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar

"Balance precariously doeth the world upon the brink of annihilation, and yet still amidst these darkest hours doth crawl carrion opportunists and cowards within the shadows. Those craven Horde which wallow beneath the piteous dogma of 'the mandate' hath sought to impale dagger unto the Alliance whilst vulnerable. Such is not wholly unexpected as well known is the ignorance and depravity of the Grim. And yet, to hear word of so many others that would willingly attempt to sabotage the waning strength of Azeroth alongside them... Such news is both dire and troubling. The creed of vermin is as always to wound the innocent and proclaim victory. To assail hearth and family when cast art the eyes of the world toward an uncertain future. Only then may they posture and feign strength. Again incompetent hath proven the Horde whether such be the inability to hold their lines or to keep their lowest rabble in check.
 
Etched to memory art the banners and names so brazenly laid about our homes of this 'Dread Horde Coalition,' and none shall be shown mercy. Animals rabid which one may turn not their back unto, even whilst stared down is foe innumerable amidst the Legion, lest one suffer injury treacherous. The putrid hemorrhage of the Grim and their ilk must be cauterized ere bled out is our will with which to stave the demons. And yet, divert may I not overly from the course which is presently true. Rage still doth the battle beneath Haustvald with nary a reprieve upon the gloom ridden horizon. 

Begin falter hath mine endurance with each venture unto the sickening depths of Helheim. Merely glancing upward unto the ceiling of waves from the fathoms below stared is enough to make turbulent my nerves. Envision do I upon such submerged canvas to glimpse the downward faces of drowned men. At least onward hath pressed the campaign unto Suramar... or so those as we had hoped. Unforeseen was such disaster laid upon the elven vanguard whilst so near was the Nighthold. Gladdened am I that caught not was Brianna amid the foul chronomancy which hath halted the combined armies altogether. Mine heart nigh ceased beating when unable was I to seek contact immediate with her after the incident, she kept busied with the mending of wounded amid Shal'Aran. Naught could stifle my lamentation nor fury were fate ill to befall her. She and Vatya remain my sole sanctuary betwixt these intervals of anger and weariness. This tiredness pervades unto my very soul, let alone the sinews and bones which gird it. However, I suppose none shall be the wiser whilst clad is my form now within armaments radiant and anew.

Indeed, ne'er thought that I would be adorned with such lengths of filigree and artistry. Ponder do I whether it shall be the blood of the Helarjar or the Horde to first stain this armor. I cannot claim either path foremost with certainty. Rigid hath grown the joints of the Ymirjar vestments I once bore against the onslaught of icy tides, runes throughout dulled as if long eroded. The wards dispersing magics hath faded. Well had such plate withstood the realm of Helya, but perhaps known were the Dragonflayer engravings therein as once serve did the folly King Ymiron to summon the Naglfar. Inquired had I unto Requisitioner Ulfsson as toward that the armory of the Skyhold could spare in lieu of retreating from the struggle for stay lengthy upon the forge in pursuit of restoring my weathered armor. Astonished was I to learn of armaments prepared beforehand by the Master Smith for which I was thence directed unto. 

It would seem Helgar had anticipated such outcome as this. Once more I am shown forging beyond my ken as such craftsmanship now worn stands without equal. Layered beneath the wondrous plates of gold and bronze art sheets of mail resembling dragonscale. Runes unfamiliar and stones of power art laid amongst the remaining breadth, wings ornamental jutting from gauntlet to pauldron. Defy shall this armor demonsteel, engravings and gems to ward magics exceeding the runesmithing for which I am capable assuredly. Lend must I offering soon unto Helgar for such armor befitting the Valarjar themselves. 

Writing of the Master Smith recalls to my brow the quiet glances of his toward the cleavers I wield, as if gaze did he with interest renewed. Fiercely hath smote the runes and handles of both as of late when come is battle. Mayhaps he shall finally speak and reveal that he knows of these weapons that the forge saw fit to bestow unto me?

There is much yet to muse upon. Temper shall I my wrath unto edge honed and naught shall impede mine hand, be they Kvaldir or Coalition."
 

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January 27th, Year 625 of the King's Calendar

"Laid have I the tattered banner retrieved of Vrekt atop the sullied sands of Helheim ere taking leave final of that horrid underworld. May such honor and appease those souls dragged toward their doom beneath the waves. Helya is slain and defeated before the hosts of Odyn, the Valarjar unfettered to roam and wreak havoc upon the Legion as long desired. Though remain doth the Kvaldir might perhaps their taint be culled entirely upon distant morrows without the hand of their cruel mistress at play. May ne'er I need venture unto such a tenebrous realm again... Of course, such is but a fool's hope. Ne'er ending is the battlefield and always shall it be. Mayhaps shift shall the shape and reason, but ne'er may its hunger be abated.
 
Begun hath the siege of Suramar. Loth am I to endeavor amid yet another grand conflict, but comfort may I hold with Brianna at my side. Vital was she unto the shoring of mine endurance throughout the dwindling skirmishes of the desperate Helarjar. Yet, therein was mine hand authority and guide against the drowned droves as opposed to the ignorance I shall afford among the Nightborne throng. Lend must I confidence and faith unto the experience of my beloved for whom hath toiled as the dusk lily embodied amidst such city in cause for the Nightfallen. Such battlefield newfound shall require much forethought and a reconstitution of my preparedness.

I am but a man of steel and rune for which turn must I unto mine armaments in this hour of composing. Mine armor, wrought of the Valarjar and bestowed upon me, boasts magnificence otherworldly in make. Yet, tolerate may I not such reliance of generosity forever. Begun have I as of late the drafting of plans anew to be forged. Pondered is how one as I may ever redouble my prowess as to match the hammer of Helgar himself... Perhaps incorporate shall I method to gain favor with the vaunted Thorignir? Broken hath the Drekirjar their ancient pact, but the blessings of the stormflight remain for those proven willing. Armor imbued with such may very well exceed mine expectations. My thoughts return toward the brood of Nithogg and their foulness which taints the storm. See shall I to the rallying of a band of mortal Valarjar as myself as to poach stormscale and bone from their like. Need shall I to procure lodestone sufficient as to fend their lightning from us.
 
Such musings remain distant and write must I now upon that which currently prevails. The Empire... Ne'er before I have been compelled to writ of mine order before this day. My disillusionment toward the Empire hath grown tremendously since Brianna departed its ranks, and blame her may I not. Happiness renewed dwells within her sway and voice since then. At least for that am I gladdened. Reside doeth noble hearts of deeds great within the Empire, but refute may I not that my gaze of the vision hath changed. Waver hath my conviction gradually since the Empire nigh erupted unto civil war years before, and thereafter hath disheartening occurrences but mounted. The events regarding the Grim but exacerbated such doubts immensely. Afflicted is the Empire with an idleness which borders upon stagnation.

For all my years amidst the Empire may I speak not of the purpose of the 'Councilors' which hath presided o'er all since antiquity. Abdicate had the Empress that as her position long ago and yet naught hath changed since. Always hath the path leaders interacted with and governed most the peoples of the Empire. Still, embers alone art not enough when the pyre hath begun to dim. The individuals of the Empire accomplish much in their scattered endeavors, but the order certainly is without guidance singular and efforts concentrated. Is it enough to merely proclaim one's self toward the notion of peace? Long hath overtures and mobilization ordered been absent of the Empire and such sloth but affords malefactors their due. Condoned now openly is the hunting of the Grim and yet it would seem to mine eyes that betwixt Brianna and I hath the most Dread Horde blood been spilt. Grow do I ever more restless with the passing of each day. My love hath always been as a soothing balm to my worries and wounds. Yet, realize had I not how merely her presence alongside me had dulled these grievances with the Empire's state as well.

How long shall I last without her?"

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February 16th, Year 625 of the King's Calendar

"Passed hath many days since my departure of the Twilight Empire, and the blood upon my swords hath since grown several fold. Difficult was it to step from years long beneath service of their vision, but resolute am I amid this new path. Turned have I steel against aggressors all, those among the Grim and Dread Horde but at the forefront of countless others. Taught must the Horde be that battle against the demons is preferable than to attempt assail our flanks. To dare strike upon the Alliance whilst come is the end times shall carry consequence without equal or quarter. May the Empire rise from their stupor amidst mine absence, lest they succumb to the withering of passivity... That would be as the 'straw death' as spoken of in horror amongst the Vrykul.

This war with the Legion shall not end in silence. Even now my weathered gaze glimpses the rising flames of the warring yet to come betwixt the Alliance and Horde thereafter. Foolish as not even the morrow is certain whilst the demonic armies lay siege to Azeroth. Nonetheless, the Banshee Queen will not sit idle once the Legion hath been vanquished. Seek shall she to solidify her reign through military strength as to deny the Horde its reason once return doeth they from the brink of desperation. As Hellscream before her, Sylvanas will seize advantage of this calamity's wake to lay the table anew amid her favor against us.

Lose may I myself too easily within the forecasts of wars unbeknownst. Even as the warring before me hath yet to subside. The siege of the Nighthold progresses steadily. Gul'dan, the final remnant of the Draenor campaign, shall be cast down along with the tyrant Elisande. Though, most resilient hath the Spellblades of the Duskwatch proven themselves in defense tenacious of their ancient courts. The dance of their steel is reminiscent of the Spellbreakers of Quel'Thalas. Yet, their isolation hath become their undoing as opposed to the aforementioned. In spite of being experienced and trained throughout the ages doeth the combined forces of Azeroth present such an innumerable number of techniques ne'er before encountered. The longevity of the Nightborne alone shall not afford them haste enough to adapt and prevail.

As of late mine own hand hath grown slow as well to adjust and wield that for which I have brought forth unwittingly. Lay had I mine offerings and armaments before the Thorignir once ended was our hunt, and granted was their favor upon me. The armor I bore seemed to at once become enlivened again, the scale and bone of Nithogg's brood inlaid throughout bristling with power. Know did I not how such blessing would manifest, but that discovered demanded awe as the cleavers I hold aloft. Upon one such encounter amid the Royal Athenaeum had my pauldrons discharged fiercely a surge of lightning as though breathed from the drakes of which they were hewn. To be wreathed in storm and hold fire amid my gauntlets... The expedition I had mounted unto Stormheim hath proven well worth the losses of our venture.

Soon the Nightwell shall be wrested of the Legion's grasp and thence may we cross the channel again. There those as we may return unto the place of our failure. Retaken may be our pride and avenged the fallen of the Broken Shore ere stormed is the Tomb of Sargeras."

 

Edited by Rorrek
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The Twisting Nether Gazette is a role play forum for characters on the RP-PVP servers Twisting Nether and Ravenholdt.  We have been active since November of 2005, a few months after the Twisting Nether server originally went live.  Our purpose is to provide a safe and inclusive environment where role players can meet and interact with each other, and, of course, post their amazing role play stories, art, bios, and journals.

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