Nymare

Conscience Sanguine

285 posts in this topic

<there is a small lock of cerulean hair tied with some sort of crude twine and stuffed into the crease between the pages of this entry and the last>

It would seem Leithlen still draws breath. I have to admire his determination -- Wait. No, no I don't. Although, I am starting to wonder if I would rather he sent me flowers instead of drop out of the sky and wyvern sting me. Stung girls can't say no. Although, the two tauren that I was with, the warlock, and Leoren all said it loudly enough for me. He managed to blow me a kiss before they beat the sense out of him and Leoren took another lock of his hair for me. He had to have known that would not go well at all - like that night in Brackenwall Village. This time, though, he was completely alone. I wonder if it was worth it.

Hmm, yes, I think I prefer our interactions just like this. He has very pretty hair.

Still need to find someone who would know how to make a wound that will not heal. I have all these little locks of hair... I really want to be able to give him something back, something to remember me by. I think I asked Qabian about that scar on his face, I just do not remember what he said in return. I think he said he gave it to himself? I need to remember, the next time I am drinking, not to talk to him until I am completely sober.

Received a letter from Draco today with offers of information if I respond to him. Perhaps with the both of us sober, he will not feel the need to threaten anyone in The Grim and I will not feel the need to shoot him in the face. Can't wait to find out.

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<what looks like a very elaborate jewelry design is sketched out across the page>

pendant0.jpg

Some day.

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I feel like I should be doing something. Something is missing. Something is not enough.

I have spent most of my time recently out in the battle grounds. Alone. Well, surrounded by strangers, but alone. It is no Tarren Mill. It is no Silvermoon. I do what I do, the same as always, but the experience is just not the same. It is fine for practice. I wonder how many people I kill. So many. So many and I cannot recall my first time any more. Who was it? Where was it? Why?

But that is what you are for, right, little book? You hold inside of you all the things I need to get out of myself. You are supposed to help me remember these things. To analyze. To question.

No, you don't. You are a notebook, a surrogate memory. If I do not like what I see, I can close you. Will you ever ask me why I picked up a bow in the first place? Will you ever ask my why I do what I do? You will never try to figure me out or "fix" me. You will never tell me I am wrong. You will never remind me what I am supposed to be. You will never tell me to stop or to keep going.

I have always had a connection to something - something that saw every part of me. Vythica. Aeacus. Now demons. But, she is gone. And the others - well, the others obey.

I want something more. I want someone to kill with.

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Jutte appeared in a flash of holy light and then just stood there, uncomfortably close, breathing on me. Staring and breathing.

What is wrong with the Alliance???

That man disturbs me.

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Skafloc must really be missing out on a peaceful sleep if he thought to come to me for information about Malorii. Although, it would not be the first time anyone assumed that because Malorii and I are both Sin'Dorei, female, and were both apart of the House that we were more involved in certain aspects of each other's lives than was true. Still, he knew she held me responsible for what happened to Broxigan and Sabachthan, and knew what she wanted to do about that. I was right. He did know. Why would he then assume she would bother contacting me?

Nevermind.

I should have learned by now not to think too much about his motives.

In any case - seems Malorii latched onto Sabachthan and bought a one-way ticket into oblivion, or some place just as unreachable by normal means. Skafloc mentioned her appearing in dreams -most notably Evanthe's- sending him messages over his stone, and something about letters covered in black ichor. Something about apples? He wanted to know if I had experienced the same thing.

He should have been asking any of her other <the word 'pets' is scratched through> friends or things she has ever been close to.

I was right about Qabian, so I have referred Skafloc in his direction, though I was very surprised he bothered to tell me what he did - since his talking too much seems to be the whole reason he wants her to stay gone. He has no desire to see her come back, not 'sane' at least. Was she sane to begin with? He mentioned that Evanthe was just supposed to summon Malorii back. If he really does not want her to come back, he could just burn Evanthe to a crisp. Hmm...

Where ever Malorii is, though, she went there following Sabachthan. Even if she is not with him, she is a step closer than the rest of us. There has to be a way to get there, then, and a way out - preferably with more foresight than the last two portals were made and passed through.

Qabian said he could go anywhere we wanted to go. If that is true, now would be a wonderful time to find out. Trouble is finding some way to make him want to go there. He could find Malorii and make sure she does not come back 'sane', or leave her in her little dream penetrating limbo and just find Sabachthan - that is all I really want.

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Deals... deals deals deals... he made a deal, so he will contribute to a certain extent. Only in as far as it helps him. Got that. I would like to ensure further cooperation, but I still do not know how and was not about to open myself up to any sort of bargaining.

I obviously picked the wrong path of extracurricular study - then I would not feel like he is needed. I could ask other mages, see how many would make the same claims. If I could find him, Radurach. Xenaken... he, at least, had some idea of how Sabachthan made the portal to begin with.

Hmm.

I came so close to telling Skafloc how I can help, what I have been learning to do these past few weeks. But I am learning it to control it, not to use it or become dependent on it, and if it will save me the reputation of "whorelock", I think I will keep it to myself for now - if I can continue to get away with it. I ran into Bahlmoral in Undercity. If he noticed the demon before I had a chance to dismiss it, well... it would seem we both know something now about the other that neither of us would like to be common knowledge. He did not make mention of anything other than my hair and attire, though.

I am sure Evanthe can handle what it is she needs to do.

I have no place in any of this other than pushing people to do something, and even that is probably too much. I just want Sabachthan back and safe.

Fire

fi errrrr

FY RRRRRR

screw that.

Wa-tching you set things a-blaze ? 7.

better.

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I should not have left.

But I did not know what to do. I tried just being there, and he looked right through me. I had never seen him like that. I never thought I would hear words like those come out of his mouth. All those trainees - yes, they deserved death, but did they deserve worse? When he was finished with it, I burned the Armory as he asked. A simple spell, but it spans over an area. It was not long before Herod's trophy pit was completely in flames and any other spot I set my sight on as we left the growing inferno behind us.

Once we reached the Cathedral, his mood only darkened further. What he did to Mograine... I suggested he take Mograine's Might to remind him that it was over, but instead he beat the corpse with it until it was little better than a pool of pulp on the floor - and it still was not enough. I barely managed to get him to finally stop, or maybe I had nothing more to do with it than the fatigue that comes with beating the ground repeatedly with a mace.

He said I could never understand what all was taken from him.

But what about all he has now?

If revenge is not enough to replace her, if crushing a corpse to a bloody smear is not enough to bring him some small amount of peace, then I never will be... not when it matters.

It hurt so badly. I could not stay because it hurt to linger like some ghost who did not belong in the world he was living in right then. I was helpless to pull him out of it.

Useless.

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I can breathe again. We are safe in our room, and he is asleep in our bed. I am afraid of what I would become without him. I do not even want to imagine what that life would be like. He gives me enough freedom to follow my beliefs. I only pray that never comes back to haunt him. I never want to do to him what she did. I do not think I could live with myself if I did.

<A crumpled page of notes is attached to the back of this entry>

Summoning

Shards

Nether

Ley Lines

Summoning - ritual

reagent - 1 soul shard / 2 assistants

  • cannot be performed in Netherstorm due to chaotic nature of energies there.
  • can something without a soul be summoned? Not necessarily inanimate like a biscuit. (test this)
  • nature of power is through shard reinforcing the will of Warlock and summoners, not stone itself? or is a soul exchanged for a soul?

Soul Shards

  • Souls can be nether created nor destroyed. They can be:
    • transformed, separated, shattered, bound, tainted, etc. etc. turned into reagents.

Nether, Twisting

  • connector of worlds of MORTAL PLANE
  • home of demons, madness, chaos
  • most translocation spells (shaman, mage, warlock) are believed to send the user through the twisting nether to his/her destination.
    • wonder how many would accept portals and summons knowing this?
    • can a summoning spell be performed in such an environment if Netherstorm is even a small example of what lies beyond?

Ley Lines

  • magical cords/veins of the world
  • ley walkers seek out the smaller parts (webbing?) to use the power they carry.
  • the places where they meet

<the rest of the notes are cut off>

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"Oh... just a tip. You sound old..."

Oh please! She deserved what I had to say in return. I could sound my age just like her, and get my ears cut off just like her; but I do actually have goals and mouthing off like a complete idiot will not help me achieve them. I did not mean to insult her, really, but it did come out that way, didn't it?

Ah well. I am what I need to be, even if sometimes, just sometimes, I wish it did not have to be that way.

Research the area of Mannoroc Coven!!! There are a series of broken portals there, some still in use. This could be helpful.

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On our way through Loch Modan, just outside of Thelsamar, we found the perfect Winter's Veil tree. I managed to get a ram to drag the thing back to Silvermoon for us so my beloved Knight would not have to. That area would be beautiful, really, if it were not so full of dwarves. All the pine scent in Azeroth cannot make up for the stench of beer, sausage, soot, and sweat -no, not sweat. Body odor- that permeates the forest around the Loch. They should all be underground, where they belong -- six feet under, at least, and full of arrows. Unfortunately, this was not something I was dressed for at the time. I hate how naked I feel in a robe, how fragile...

...how obviously fel.

Twice - TWICE - it was brought up the night before. How that Fey girl even had the slightest idea, I will never know, and for Xenaken to just announce it as if it were written on my forehead -- I was mortified. That may very well be the last time I let my hair down and wear a robe of any sort in Silvermoon again. Leoren raised a valid point, though, something I should consider - as long as the end is worth the means, more or less, and whatever judgements may come with it, then keep with it. If not, let it go.

I do not want to be seen as a "whorelock" but I know that my reasons will never be so apparent as the destruction I can cause. I must accept that, because giving up this control is not an option at the moment, and if it can bring me even one small step closer to finding Sabachthan, then it will be worth it.

I have not heard anything about him or even Malorii in so long, though, that I am starting to lose hope. I have been meaning to present to Qabian the questions that I have, but time has not been on my side lately. After what happened last night, and spending the day mostly in a self-imposed solitude over it, it felt good to simply tear through Southshore and Darkshire without having to think about anything else. Maybe I should have said something to him, but he seemed almost as distant as I felt. Something about talking to Blood Knights? Whatever had been bothering me the night before, though, managed to melt away like the faces of so many humans.

I feel a little better now.

I know I scared Leoren. He is so patient with me, so careful, so concerned... I wish I had had an answer for him, a direction to point him in so he could fix whatever was broken or destroy whatever was hurting me, but there was nothing. It was just this feeling, this overwhelming feeling of dread. Something was wrong... or something will be wrong. It made me sick. I still feel it there like this faint echo in my soul.

I feel like I am losing --

No, I will not even write that down.

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I remembered while I was in the Marsh - a frog. I must have been about twelve. It was summer. It was always summer when we went to the cabin, but this was the last time we would ever be allowed out after dark... the last summer before the Scourge came. Vythica and I were near the shore while the rest were further away hunting fireflies. We were hunting frogs. Somewhere, she had found a light wooden crate and for every frog we put in it, another would jump out again -- so, it was not the best crate, but we were determined. There was one frog in particular who would not submit to capture, though. It jumped out the most. Finally, with the aid of its frog peers, it was tried and sentenced for its disobedience.

Death.

We both had sticks for swords, but I was to be the executioner. I remember how large it seemed in my hand as I held it up before the full moon. All four legs were working back and forth, as if it were unaware that it were even being held and not swimming through a freshwater shallow. I would not say it was struggling, not even when I menacingly pressed the end of my stick against the smooth skin of its exposed belly. I increased the pressure. The skin tore more easily than I expected, and when it did, something came over me. I did not stop. I kept pushing my stick further into its innards and then up. I do not know what I was expecting. It did not struggle any more or less as it was impaled, its legs still working back and forth as if it were not being mortally wounded - not even when the stick pushed out through its mouth. I do not remember when it died. I do not remember what I did with the body. I just remember knowing that I could have stopped, and I did not. I murdered it.

And that reminded me of the night elf in the pass between Stonetalon and the Barrens. I had run across night elves before, the kaldorei who have infiltrated the Ghostlands and Eversong woods. They were agents and I was the ender of lives, but she was different. I knew the others were the enemy, that they were actively engaging in crimes on land that was not their own, but not her, not out here. I hesitated when I saw her. I think I saw her first. She was much faster, far more quick to attack. The way she moved was like some sort of elaborate dance, and it was all I could do to dodge the arrows being fired at me. What little training I had had seemed to fail me in that moment. As a last resort, I fell to the ground.

Eyes staring straight ahead, I did not blink. I did not breathe. She approached cautiously and finally knelt by my side, her scent filling my senses. She smelled like green water to me and a pungent spice... like fear. Shaky hands inspected what I was wearing. Trembling fingers ran through my hair with a strange curiosity. It was when her fingertips brushed over the bare skin of my belly and I felt a wave of bumps rise over my skin that I had to move again.

She made the smallest noise of surprise when her own dagger plunged into her stomach. It might have been louder if not for the arrow I had stabbed into her throat. The skin tore more easily than I had expected... the cartilage of her trachea putting up the most resistance, but still giving way with a smooth pop. She lay back against the dirt, her large, gangly hands clinging weakly to my wrist as her own blood pushed up past the blade in my grip and began to coat my fingertips. She was terrified, but either the dagger or arrow had hit something important and she could barely move. In her wide eyes, I could see my reflection, the shimmering golden angel of her death. I whispered soft words to her in Thalassian and smoothed back her violet hair with bloody hands. I remember tracing the winged tattoo over her eyes and offering a palmful of her own blood to her lips.

"It will never bring you life again," I remember explaining. The tears that formed in her eyes soon after seemed to imply that she understood this as well. When she started to dull, I pressed my fist harder into the wound of her belly, and that vaguely stirred some life in her, some reaction. Something tore. Something was punctured. There was a faint gasp, a release of breath, and then nothing.

I had Icarus burn the body, the scent of water and fear being cleansed away into nothing under the harsh afternoon sun.

I could have left her there. I could have ended it quickly. I could have stopped, but I did not.

I ran across an orc in the Undercity last night. Head to toe, I was wrapped in chain and leather, my hair pulled back, crossbow at my hip. He looked like a hunter from his own race as well, but when he sniffed me, I snapped at him for being rude. In a good enough humor, he told me to calm down, that something about me just smelled familiar to him.

He said I smelled like a witch.

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Disappointment.

I want to believe so much that it really is for self preservation alone that Qabian has done his tests and opted out of the insanity that will be getting Malorii and Sabachthan back. I have seen him in the battlefield. Who ever has time there to make too many calculations and test possibility before you find yourself face to face with your death? You are out there and you simply do what you must. I am not sure I have ever really seen him hesitate. Infact, I am certain I have seen him rush into a fight almost thoughtlessly. I see this, because it is while I am still riding to catch up and wondering what the fel is going on in that head of his.

I suppose Azeroth provides a certain luxury that the Nether does not. If you die here, you at least know it was for the right cause, for the Mandate, or for furthering yourself. Sun forbid you end up as Malorii or Sabachthan, watching life go on without you, unable to do anything too constructive. Falling through mirrors, sending letters in strange languages, invading dreams.

Although, that really could be exploited if one could just figure it out.

Qabian says the arcane has no place there, but if I understood Xenaken correctly, it was a combination of the arcane and shadow that opened the portal to begin with, and what are the ley lines Malorii exploited other than veins of pure magic? Perhaps it has no place there, but it certainly helps in -getting- there. He would not have to risk going, but keep the portal open. And then he still lives up to his end of whatever deal he made with Malorii.

If there were some way to anchor Evanthe or I just on the other side of the portal while others found Malorii or Sabachthan, they could be summoned to the exit point and then escape back into our current time and space. But can a portal be created that actually goes both ways? There must be a way - it is how Sabachthan was taken to begin with.

Malorii was able to come through a mirror and was taken back through. How and where is Sabachthan coming through? And why does he disappear again? Malorii, Skafloc said, was pulled back through - Evanthe almost being taken with her.

And, of course, no telling what would try to come through the portal that was being held open - but a capable warlock on either side of the portal should be able to banish most demons who attempted it - or even mask the portal altogether.

I was so close to telling Skafloc again yesterday. It would seem the time for hesitation is coming to an end. The longer I hold back, the longer I feel this 'little rescue mission' will be put off, and I fear Sabachthan has run out of time... no one seems to have heard from him in so long. Too long. The last person I want to trust with my little secret is Skafloc, but someone will start to make connections sooner or later.

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It was through Skafloc that I learned that Sabachthan had been seen again, this time in Orgrimmar. I imagine this is the information the Bandit has to sell me.

Skafloc's insistence that it is Sabachthan in form only is more than a little alarming. He wants to set up a meeting of everyone involved... how that will be pulled off in a timely fashion is anyone's guess. Some of the pieces of the puzzle will have to remain missing. We are out of time.

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How?

How is it that, between the two of us, I can endure an evening of scrutiny, but he cannot overlook one little word? How is it that I, who am afraid of making things real, has enough confidence in us to not be shaken? How does he not hear me when I reassure him? Why must I continue to reassure him? What has happened? Is it Qabian?

Qabian...

I sacrificed one of your pages, little book, because of him. Did it hurt when I tore it out? No matter, he managed to bring up half of the things I originally wrote all on his own, which was more than a little unsettling. Perhaps he goes through my trash and was able to read it? And why not? Got to learn how to understand that link so he can win his game, right? Oh, if he knew that he actually stood a chance of winning if he were working on the other half of the link, I wonder if he would. He will get nowhere with me, but his determination leads to interesting conversation and usually something getting burned.

However, tonight was... for lack of a better word... odd.

He expresses some things rather backwards. I am not sure he even realizes it. How we relate to each other is also more than a little backwards. In the end, he began to let things slip. He was tired and it was revealed that this could be taken advantage of. He informed me of the price I would pay if I pursued my line of questioning, but he did not leave. He did not go silent. He did not withdraw at all, really. I was left wondering, for a moment, if being taken advantage of is exactly what he wanted.

I also find it funny how he insists he can and will find some way to make me want to kill him, yet his sense of self-preservation is so strong that he refuses to have anything to do with getting Malorii and Sabachthan back. I suppose he prefers death by arrows over death by angry tentacle demons.

Which reminds me...

Skafloc mentioned that Malorii had contacted Evanthe and instructed her to set up two obsidian mirrors in Silithus.

I was surprised that this did not immediately alarm either of them, considering they would be setting up what are essentially portals over a desert where C'Thun himself is rumored to have fallen and his Qiraji live, all because Malorii suggested it... if it were even Malorii at all and not some demon using her body as Sabachthan's has been used to find those ignorant or blind enough to open a portal for it. The same Malorii who only managed to babble at Qabian. I do not want to even begin to think about what could find those portals and decide to come out.

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Suspicions, concerns, thoughts about how hot or cold a hand or mouth or blood might be, madness. I feel as if I have spent the past two days in the mouth of madness, and while I watched everything - <the rest of the line is scratched through> - No, nothing truly fell apart, unraveled, or even unfolded - some things were even saved - but somehow everything has managed to exist in these past two days in a chaotic swirl of confusion and I stood in the middle, watching the world spin out of control around me. One by one, things descended from this abysmal churn to find peace with me, if only for a moment, just to be swept back into the vortex.

They came, each in turn, and while I could no more grasp the insanity they came from than anyone else, I still took a small piece from each and let them go on their way.

There really is far too much to write down, but you are not meant as a simple catalogue of events, are you little book?

It is a new day, and there is a new game. I am left wondering what I should do about him. I imagine there are any number of creative ways to push his lines without breaking the reassurances I made him -- not that un-spoken promises should mean much right now or ever, since I have been sentenced for merely knowing where his lines are and not what waits on the other side -- but simply surviving, keeping my word, and seeing him fail as prizes for winning this game are not nearly enough. I have no desire to see someone like Qabian fail. The thought is strangely disheartening.

The bottom line, though, is that I should not participate. If I do not participate, I will not end up wanting to kill him. I will not break my word. I will not be broken. I may never know the answers, but I will win. If I ignore him, his lines remain safe, he can learn nothing about me, either, and I am sure his paranoia will eventually fade away. He will not truly lose, because he will not have to try, and I can go on respecting him.

Or, perhaps he would persist for much the same reason I could not bring myself to tell Leoren about this little piece of the truth - that Qabian does want to break me, but not for Malorii's wishes... for his own.

Qabian could have stopped himself <"FROM TALKING TOO MUCH" is inserted above the line here> the other night, but he did not. We make our own home be our gallows, don't we?

Skafloc was searching for me. I can only assume Malorii visited them again, too. I wonder if she relayed her new wishes to them... them and who knows how many others. Xenaken has said that it is possible to create the portal I desire, but at a cost. There will need to be more involved, as well, to pull this off. This bothers me.

I want to contact Sabachthan myself, now. I need answers. There are none on this side, and waiting for Skafloc's little puzzle pieces meeting to come to pass will only push things further back. Looks like I should tell my miserable little Elerwyn to pack her bags, she is going home for a visit. I may even give her her other wing back if she finds anything useful.

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Oh.

My.

Head.

"I'm not a big drinker." I can't believe I said that and then got smashed.

Malorii did not visit Evanthe and Skafloc, as I had suspected. Infact, Skafloc did not have much to tell me that I did not already know about what went on in Orgrimmar. Except that there is more to Sabachthan's issues than just demons. There are spirits and something else.

That 'something else' is all the more reason to NOT set two fucking gateways, portals, mirrors, WHATEVERS, in C'Thun's insect-infested graveyard. Why Silithus? Why obsidian mirrors?

I presented my alternative plan to Leoren. As with anything that might end in my destruction, he was apprehensive. But, really, they would have no idea what those gateways are even for - would they? Apparently, Evanthe denied knowing about them at all to Qabian. If he has insisted so irritably on several occasions that he wants nothing to do with this, why did he bother asking Evanthe about those mirrors? Did I ask him to do that? I honestly cannot remember right now.

UGH.

Where was I going with that?

OH YES. My idea is better... maybe not best... but better. As far as I know, the only idea we have about the mirrors is that they are supposed to get Sabachthan and Malorii back - this coming from a Malorii that is either not Malorii, or a Malorii that has spent too much time in her new playground and has taken to manipulating those desperate to save her into unleashing onto Azeroth who-knows-what.

So, the time has come. I am going to speak with Evanthe. There is no hiding any more.

I knew Skafloc was still marked. I just had no idea her magic was involved in it. And with how purportedly quick she resorted to placing a rune on Sabachthan's hand, I am apprehensive at best about her a good number of reasons.

This could be bad. Very bad. But, I do not have much choice.

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It took me long enough, but I finally found her. Pretty hair. I have seen her enough times, and never would I have expected her transgressions. But, what is that observation coming from me anyway? I have perhaps a year to look back on and say "I know this, because". A year away from my family. A year away from him. A year away from my books.

Some days, I miss my books. I could learn from them without them lying to me, trying to kill me, or forcing me to kill them. Vythica and books kept me sane. Now, there is only Leoren to shield me from the things in this world which could not care less about my inexperience in it. Even now, even after everything, I still wonder if I should never have left home. Father was right. I was not ready. But, it is too late now.

They blame me for Vythica in much the same way I suspect Broxigan and Malorii blame Leoren and I for Broxigan's eyes.

I suppose when you have no eyes, the truth is even harder to see. I will endure being his crutch for only so long, though. Things need to be set right or destroyed entirely. I refuse to take responsibility for Broxigan's decision to participate - I assume he knew he was at risk as much as I had been warned I was at risk. The longer this goes on, though, the worse it will get. I, at least, understand anger that well. I am sick of being the at the whim of lunatics.

And Father? It is because of him that I do what I do. I do what he should be doing. I do what he should have done. And every time Leoren tells me to run, I hate myself for listening. I have never told him about my family. Would he understand if I did? Would he stop telling me to run?

But, do I blame Father for what I have become? Will I seek revenge on him? No. These are my choices, they are my responsibility. As much as I hate what he has done, I could never push my flaws on him like that. That woman in the auction house, however, is getting exactly what she deserves for birthing a kal'dorei bastard. Mother and son. I am sure theirs will be a warm reunion - or however warm the blood of a traitor might be.

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I have been an enormous bitch. Really, it is getting harder to restrain myself when all I want to do is fling half of Azeroth into the void just so I can have a little peace. It does not help that nearly every person I speak to is certifiable.

For a few very long minutes tonight, I thought it was all over. I honestly thought I was going to be standing over Lascivious' body, waiting for the rest of The Grim to kill those responsible for it. Both Zelaine and Leoren were ready to rush off into the night and provoke who knows what. I hesitated. That is not how I work. I at least wanted to know why Lascivious had ordered Emmons to kill Zelaine before we risked everyone and everything while Kiaran and Malethia were begging everyone to restrain themselves and trying so hard to warn us of things that could not just be shouted in anger at the gates of Silvermoon for any passer-by to hear.

Leoren was surprised at me.

I am not like him, though, and that is not how I resolve things. I do not want to say she is questionable, but the safest thing to me, in that moment, was that she was there with us. We could protect her. We had time to think, to figure things out. But then, they are very much brother and sister. If she wanted vengeance, it was hers to be had and with Leoren at her side.

But me? What do I do when she calls for him to go with her?

Rushing out into the forest without question, without consideration. Would he think I loved him any less for trying to preserve our lives if I could -- before throwing them at fate without question? Surely, every time I speak of the portals to him and he questions me, he should understand the feeling.

I do not expect him to abandon her, but I do not expect him to abandon me, either. What do I do when she calls for him like that?

I never want to be in that situation again.

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In all of life, there are leaders and there are followers. The Grim is no different. Our members are a mix of skill and experience, and a rank structure is in place to show this. From the beginning of a member’s purpose to the pinnacle of being at the Mistress’ side, the Grim view their structure not as a ladder of military discipline and authority, but personal initiative and the thought that while it is the individual who has the mind; it is the group that holds the power.

The path to the Mistress' side seems to end with a rotating door. How many times will Cessily be thrown from it and ushered back? Or the other girls? Why is it even there? If what Cessily would have me believe is true, Lascivious is more than just our Mistress. She is a woman beneath it all, she is fallible, and she has snapped. Lascivious? Really?

Snapped, and when snapped, she is more open to... influence.

What the hell do I do? If our hierarchy is not dependent upon authority but personal initiative, what does The Grim do when the personal initiative of its Mistress has become dependent upon the whim of Sin'Dorei girls? Should she be removed? The group holds the power. It should be up to the group, then?

For all the chaos I have witnessed since joining, it has been Lascivious' lead which has convinced me The Grim could do what I expect it to. It was reassuring to know that we could not and would not turn on each other, not without swift punishment. But, this new, snapped Lascivious would have the Mandate re-written and tell Emmons to kill Zelaine?

Be it the Lich King or some silly girl, this influence on The Grim should not exist. In the hours that passed the other night while we were running around the woods searching for Lascivious, the Undercity was being assaulted. What was it she said the other afternoon before everything went straight to hell?

"If you are not slaughtering Alliance, you are useless to me."

Indeed.

I should know better than to think I could sit anywhere in Shattrath and not be surrounded by people. I used to be able to, though. I could watch the naaru quietly. I could listen to it. I could watch The Grim from across the terrace if I looked away from it. But then Qabian would find me. And then others would find Qabian. It became apparent to me last night that I lost my damned spot. I had only been there for a few moments before someone joined me. And then another. So, I moved.

I was found again. At first, it was only Malethia, and she is quiet enough. Unfortunately, the only news she had to share was that things with Lascivious had not changed. Kiara asked for time... how much do we have? I decided to take advantage of the silence and ask Malethia about the naaru. I told her what it sounded like to me, and how it is only getting worse. She seemed a little alarmed. Apparently, as she put it, if a mother's love for her daughter could be transferred into a song, that is how they are supposed to sound... at least, to Malethia.

All I hear is shattering and screaming ... like countless glass hearts breaking, mixed with the shrieks of slaughtered horses. It is maddening. I keep expecting clarity, an answer, a challenge. All I get is hate. She suggested it was my mood, how I felt. I felt nothing.

So, it was Malethia. Then Anaie and Emmons. Others. And then Qabian. They were all lined up and sitting against the wall like me, but not him. He was there, a part of the crowd, but as far on the edge as he could get without falling. Infront of me, his back to me, almost as if in invitation. I found it all beautifully symbolic.

This did not change, however, that I had lost my damned spot. AGAIN.

Ah well. If I had been allowed to listen to the naaru any longer uninterrupted, I would have left the terrace as mad as the rest of them.

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I can think of far worse ways to represent The Grim than drinking in Silvermoon with a bunch of girls. They all have their habits, their misrepresentations, their failures. Oh however will I make up for this?

Let's see...

I could threaten to kill any or all of them.

I could kill cats, too.

Then, I could fuck them all.

Plot against them.

Because that seems to be mentality of far too many of them, which I happily avoid. Does this make me less Grim?

But the worst -

I could spare alliance because they are "pactkeepers", use them as shields, run my mouth off until someone else in the Horde wants me dead, and then fall miserably to them while the group you are hunting attackers with are suddenly down a man and suffering for it - GOOD JOB, AEST!

No, fuck you, Aest. And your "pactkeepers". And your weak mind. I have no idea what Qabian said to you yesterday, but your vain attempt at trying to emulate him failed miserably. At least he has the wit to keep up with me. You just sit there and complain - and WATCH. I hope they turn on you and eat your heart.

Aest. Emmons. Qabian. I wear less than a full suit of armor for one night, and you would think that the Legion has come and Azeroth has ended for good. In all fairness, Aest never told me to get dressed. I assume that is why he bothered to stay near us girls. It may have embarrassed him, but it must have been a nice show. Emmons is dead, so I can see where he might have a greater perspective on trivialities of skin, but what was Qabian's excuse?

I must have disappointed him. But that would imply he cared to begin with. I am not sure if trying to bribe me to Southshore was his way of saying "I hope you die" or if he was trying to save me from having a good time that did not, for once, involve spilling someone else's blood. He even threatened me with Muatah.

He is probably gay.

Actually, he tries to destroy things that hit too close to home. Perhaps he liked the clown whore look so much, the only way he could save himself from being delightfully conquered by miles of tanned thighs was to toss out threats and run away. He did say he found his voice a comfort.

And I still got my cider.

All in all, I say this means I won.

Zelaine kept patting my ass, though. If she were a guy, I don't think Leoren would have appreciated that. Eh, she was drunk. Very drunk. And it is a mighty fine ass.

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I was so close to losing him. So painfully close. I thought, for one moment, he was telling me to walk away and telling me why I should, where I stood, and so I started to leave... if only to make it easier for him. He asked me what I would do, if I were in his place. Me? I have always chosen him, but our situations are different. If I were him, I would not have chosen me. He has had his doubts about me, his fears. She is his flesh and blood, all that remains of his family. I would have understood if he chose her. I told him as much.

I am not sure how it came to that, though. I did not ask him to choose. I was trying to save him from having to make a choice. Zelaine disturbed him that much, though. He was afraid he endangered me. He has. I should not know these things I now know. I should not be expected to take a side. She will expect me to back her up... I will not do so blindly. I also wonder, as soon as she thinks I am causing a problem between her and her brother, what she will do to fix that.

Cracked eggs. Right, Zel?

So now, I am sitting here with a warp burger infront of me and a warm mug of cider. I doubt Qabian truly intends to get me fat and drunk to test the strength of Leoren's love for me as he claims to be trying to do. And while he does make some tasty burgers, I suddenly have no appetite.

I wonder what they call a warp burger with cheese in Stormwind.

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Of course my goal is nowhere near as simple as Silence, but that is what I crave. It is more than just a lack of sound, but instead where everything stops for just one second. It is that feeling I get when the battle is over and there is nothing left. It is the cooling of sweat after sex, the blackness after being knocked down, the ability to hear a heartbeat, feel a breath, before everything begins again. It is what follows the last note in a song.

Silence, as I know it, is almost purely dependent on Dissonance, my Peace dependent on Annihilation.

And then there is Leoren. Qabian asked me if Leoren brings me Silence. The truth is that they both give me Silence in their own ways, except that Leoren does not have to destroy anything to do so.

Something felt off about tonight. I cannot quite put my finger on it.

We destroyed Theramore, and then saved its ashes from a sea monster. That was not our intent, but they set off fireworks anyway. How forgiving of them.

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I asked anyway. I said that it had been brought up at some point, which re-ignited my curiosity - which is not a lie. Unfortunately, I did not understand half of what Xenaken had to say, but I am fairly certain that the questions I had went largely unanswered. I will have to try again.

Nether energy? Is that possible for a mage to harness or was this Sabachthan's contribution to the portal?

I never did bother to follow up with Qabian on learning about magic, mostly for the sake of keeping my own from him, and so, instead, I end up suffering in ignorance when Xenaken tries explaining things to me. Xenaken could teach me, if only he were as accessible.

In any case, he is certain he can recreate the portal without a monster being able to come through the other side. But, if everything I understood was correct, something should not have been able to come through the other side to begin with, so that is not terribly helpful.

Qabian's interest in it bothered me. His sudden interest in my family bothered me as well. Tonight, he simply bothered me. Things just do not feel right. I do not like feeling uncomfortable, and I had not until tonight. It was not the questions, though. It was him.

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About us

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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