#wintergarde keep

[sparkwell]

So these big badger people have been causing some serious problems for the Kalu’ak so we came up here to steal back supplies and to keep an eye on the baby badgers, we didn’t want any of them getting hurt while we tried to take back what we needed. 

After helping out here, we moved on to Wintergarde Keep beneath the shadow of the scourge blight, Naxxramas. While we didn’t stay there very long here, I learned a few things...the Scourge is still very prevalent...I’m guessing the ones that the Lich King isn’t able to get control over and I am not that coordinated trying to fly on a gryphon and save people at the same time. 

Also...if something needs to be blown up, send in a Mechagnome, we can be easily put back together. I bring this up because I got to blow up a mine full of scourged miners. Those poor souls but at least they’re finally at rest now. 

[mosur]

Not A Welcome Home

I received a letter in the mail today. It was from Maewood; presumably sent on Sunday in response to my own letter. It reads clumsily...or I do not understand common phrasing as I thought I did. She said she would not normally keep a Templar from visiting their family but that my circumstance is-was different. So did she mean to keep me from going? Further down it reads to find strength in the presence of my family. I don’t know then if that was permission to go or not. If it was why was Scout sent after me, Sielic - that is the name.

“Where your other set of family awaits.” 

I do not know that I would call Templars a family. Until recently my interactions with Templars in general has been distant. I do my job, that is to care after the injured, and go about my business. While I have been a member for some time I believe this campaign in Dragonblight is the most time I have spent in their presence. Maewood also said she had spoken to Fire Pup, Xodius. He has caused her concern over me with what he had to say. I wonder what he had to say, and how much he really knows. Does he know he was partly the cause of all this research? Doesn’t matter now.

"If you are missing too long Templars will be sent to find you."

I didn’t realize that one day was too long. I caught this at the bottom of Maewood’s letter. I left on Sunday, and Sielic...found me...on Monday. I am not grateful for that. In fact now I question whether it was a good idea to leave a letter or not. Obviously it was not. So I have returned and for lack of a better word I am treated like a fugitive. And with no proof to any wrongdoing. Perhaps it was just last night or maybe I am just being paranoid but I have not been left alone with anyone save myself. There is always at least one other watching if not there. My things, my books, they were picked up, taken, by Sielic when he found me. I do not understand his reasoning for not returning them to me. My prayerbook and my journal. What reason would Sielic have to keep them from me. Maewood has spoken with Xodius so while I do not know about what she would at least have a basis to. Did she tell Sielic? How many people know and what do they know? My prayerbook was returned in the late hours of the night. I am not sure why it was kept from me and I am not sure why they keep my journal. I assumed she would translate it and I stated that, she said that was not her intentions. If not, however, then why keep it from me. I cannot say that I wholly trust Maewood’s words. I am unhappy, bordering on angry about this, but showing such would only cause more concern. Back to working on keeping up appearances for a time. In order to get trust you must give trust; right now I have neither.

[mosur]

It Won't Let Me

I wasted it, the potion. I slept great for one night, I felt so refreshed and I’d found an answer to my problem. Unable to find Mystery I went to the Dalaran alchemist who was able to provide me with the same thing. It was New Year’s night and feeling so good and thrilled that I had found an answer to my problem, I decided to celebrate with a few friends I had made in Dalaran. It was of no consequence, I thought. I partook of the merriment and made up as best I could for my lack of time to pay attention to Winter Veil. I returned to my bed in Dragonblight, took one of the many potions I had purchased and laid down late for a well needed rest. This, however, was not to be. Maybe I slept well for a few hours, which I am thankful for, but I woke again to horrible dreams. Dreams I shouldn’t be having. Is it so in control that it can neutralize the effects of alchemy? After seeing Shrewsbury I am no longer delusional; the reason I cannot just let my Hell Toy go is because it won’t let me. The same as it intends to not let me sleep...again. This dream was different but all the same terrifying, at least to me. It’s rutting out other fears and worries I had once held and making them so they might be real again. It’s funny that even after Nobundo and those brought shamanism to our people the krokul still cause me a great unease. A sort of personal terror. That’s what these night terrors have begun to depict. More things of the past and how they might have been different...how I might have been different. I cannot dwell on that right now. I must think while I am still fairly well rested. Shrewsbury mentioned he had thought that a place of religion might help break the hold on my Hell Toy. Perhaps a venture to Stormwind and the Church of the Holy Light. For now I have an itch to do...something.

[mosur]

Sleep At Last

It worked! Mystery came across me in the keep at Wintergarde. After a casual conversation I asked him if there was maybe something that could be done about getting a decent nights sleep. I thought he’d be able to provide some magical or arcane solution. He didn’t question me on it, which I was thankful for, but gave me a left over potion he had. Potion of Dreamless Sleep. He told me that it should help me sleep through the sounds of the war below. I did, there were no nightmares, and I have woken up refreshed and feeling much better. He offered to give me a portal to Stormwind today so I may get more from a lady in the Recluse. If I come across him today I will gladly take him up on that offer. Feeling better well rested. I am happier than I have been in a long time, and it is just the start of the new year. Now about that box of mine.

[mosur]

Terror in Old Kingdom

Circumstances have changed. There is far more to this trinket than I could have ever imagined. The trip to the desolate forgotten old kingdom of the Nerubians proved successful, I dare say. I entered through a large crack in the ice leading to a larger tunnel, it was only one of many small openings into the ice packed earth of western Dragonblight where their kingdom once stood before it was crippled by the Lich King and his Scourge. It was enough to make one’s skin crawl, even if the ancient city was dead. It had been cleared out many times over by adventurers and still living Nerubians until the fall of the Lich King left at least this city of the spider folks devoid of life. I didn't even come across skittering insects or small spiders that once normally inhabited these crawling metropolises. The atmosphere was overwhelming with its emptiness, even the whispers were silent here. The air was heavy, warm, and almost so humid that breathing was difficult. The long empty halls were dimly lit by some unseen luminescence, a plant or some leftover technology maybe. The shadows kept moving it seemed, but it must have been the lighting, for when I stood still and looked or watched...nothing, just the shifting light around semi-familiar, crumbling architecture. The city seemed like nothing but halls and rooms, I can only imagine their original purpose. Temples, domiciles, studies...It gave me an eerie chill, even in the warm underground air, that I could not shake. I don't know what drove me on aside from macabre curiosity and a tugging notion in my mind that I was going the right way and would find whatever it was I was seeking. I turned the corner and saw the back of some faceless monstrosity, creatures no longer uncommon to most eyes that had seen war since the cataclysm began. Terrified, suddenly I made my escape running, tripping, and crawling. Finally, dirty and covered in cobwebs, I found the hole I had entered through and squeezed my way out. This is all terrible -- bigger than I had imagined.

The last paragraph of the journal was written strangely inkblots gathered at the end of some words and sentences where he’d stopped to think on what to write next. It ended abruptly and without much explanation of what had actually happened.

As Mosur turned what he felt was the final corner in his journey, he stopped dead. Before him was a large faceless one there in the back recesses of the city; it seemed preoccupied with whatever twisted worship or strange ritual it was preforming. Seeing this Mosur made a quick and silent move to leave, he himself not an apt fighter or prepared for something like this alone. *You don’t have to run, Mosur* A hiss-like set of whispers came to mind all speaking the same words; he froze his eyes widening as he looked for the source. *Yes it was I* The whispers came again though from no where, he heard them but not with his ears. The faceless one turned to face him lowering its twisting limb, he stepped towards the shaman as the draenei made a matching step backwards. Laughter filled his head, *You need not worry shaman. You will come to no harm* Mosur took another step back, his brow furrowed at the creatures comment, a sickly fear in his stomach told him that this was all a lie. Another bout of laughter rang out in his head followed by more whispers *If we wanted you dead shaman you already would be. Besides we will have work for you.* At that comment Mosur twisted his head and narrowed his eyes speaking aloud. “I do not do work for monsters, or Old Gods.” *But you already do* The voice hissed quickly in return barely allowing him to finish his sentence. After that a flood of whispers came to his mind seemingly all at once.  *In the land of Ny'alotha there is only sleep. In the sleeping city of Ny'alotha walk only mad things. Ny'alotha is a city of old, terrible, unnumbered crimes. There is a little lamb lost in dark woods. There is no sharp distinction between the real and the unreal. All places, all things have souls. All souls can be devoured.* Then last the loudest of all *Open me! Open me! Open me! Then only will you know peace.* The puzzle box seemed a sudden oppressive weight in his pocket. He retrieved it, looking at it in his hand frightfully then looked back to the faceless one again which bellowed another laugh, this time visibly so. The primordial creature made no further attempts to communicate with him even as he turned stumbling over his own hooves to get away. The draenei nearly tripped down the crumbling stairs that had led him to this back area where the faceless had been. Turning, he looked behind him expecting to see the faceless chasing after him and he fled recklessly, but there was nothing, nothing but half understood whispers all speaking at once. He looked again at the puzzle box still held in his hand and tossed it aside as he ran. Almost immediately he stopped still, pausing as a million thoughts ran through his head. He’d thrown the box but the whispers persisted and a cold unsettling feeling crept over him. He couldn’t bear to leave the puzzle box, he still wanted it. His breathing was fast, sped up as he’d argued back and forth with himself about the box till he turned around despite the overwhelming want to flee and searched for the box. He got down on his hands and knees to find it, searching fruitlessly till finally finding it by some crumbling ruins where it had rolled. Quickly he pressed it back into his pocket and started his frantic escape anew, his blood still pumping with adrenaline. He ran from nothing, every time he looked there was nothing after him, but a terror still gripped him, he must get away. His hurry made for an awkward escape, scaring himself with shadows and losing his way in the maze of city ruins. Finally he squeezed out the opening through which he’d entered and clambered to the snow covered landscape. There he collapsed in the snow till his body cooled from the his fevered escape and his breathing returned to normal. He was now cold and wet from the snow, still dirty, his body weary and with no way to process all that had just happened. Slowly he made his way back to Wintergarde Keep and cleaned himself up.

[mosur]

Sinking Deeper

The cycle continues, war and rest, war and rest. We gathered momentarily in the inn after returning from the front lines. Marksman, Little Miss, the Fire Pup and his Little Pup. Brother Jamus was there, Dictator, Maewood. I spoke with Jamus for a while, tried to comfort him, everyone wonders at some point or eventually; “What is the fighting for? Is it worth it?” He has seen many battles, maybe more than I; I do not know what he did in his time before he took up the call of the elements. Maybe he was a great warrior. Regardless, he is restless and with his tiny charges lost he aims to wander when he is no longer needed.

I try to be wise and say the right things, try to say what people need to hear. I even know that it will not help them the moment I say it, but I only hope they will remember it on down the line and the things I have said will be something to hold on to or help them make the right choice.

I did not know what to tell Brother Jamus, oddly the more time I spend up north the less sure I have become of my abilities, and the more scattered my thoughts and what I would think of as generally confident words.

It is very easy to give advice, but hard enough to take it. What would I say to myself? Slow down, relax, and breathe. Try not to worry; worrying will only make things worse, cause poor decisions. That is good advice.. only I think I am following it. Past...recent failures or just uncertainties weighing the mind...they are harder to let go than just simply saying it.

I was struck again with the sheer uncertainty in what to do this past night. I was on the back porch of the inn lost in thought on these same things when the Fire Pup joined me. We spoke a moment; he inquired what was on my mind. We did not speak for long before he was alerted to something, we hastened to where his nose lead us only to find a familiar man. Already I had been reporting on the guild stone and it did not take much to get Maewood out there as it was close to the keep.

The man was a mage I recognized from a long time ago, Mystery was his name I think. There was a hole through his hand and chest. I should have jumped to action, but again I found myself stumbling around in uncertainty and self-doubt that paralyzed my actions. At the first sign of release, an instruction to flag down the approaching help I left moving to the edge of the mountain towards the keep and waving down Maewood as she approached.

She and the Fire Pup, who seems himself to be an excellent healer, mended him well enough to move him on the back of her hippogryph. The pup transported me back and we met the Marksman at the keep with another red haired male. I looked on as they healed him, mending flesh. Looking at his hand further, I noticed only the flesh had been devoured and the bones undamaged. It was some kind of magic; the mage later said it was shadow magic.

I offered to stay with him the night through and fetched soup and water. He would need it to regain his strength. They spoke back and forth about who the assailant might have been. The mage roused enough to talk and against our wishes of him exerting himself, spoke of who it may have been. They called him many different names X something; I remember one of the names, Rex.

They described him as a cultist a man with a mask whose face no one had seen. They hypothesized on why he was here. Everyone seemed to know who they were speaking of but no one could tell me about him. The red haired man, a Scout, was going to be sent to find the assailant until they realized who it was. He said it would be like walking into a trap. They left for the inn, I stayed and chatted with Mystery until he fell asleep.

It has been a long quiet night and I have done little but work on the puzzle box and now record this for my memory. I feel an urgency to solve this puzzle and see what is inside the lock box. I have learned that this is not the only one, and it would be silly to think that a toy like this would not be mass produced, well to an extent. The Blacksmith’s friend holds one, as does another I met on the grounds of the keep.

The puzzle box has become a point of conversation and I have found the people around me asking about it more and more. I think it is best I do not talk about it or bring it out around others. The Little Miss tried to help me with a few pieces but I still have not gotten very far in it. I would rather I finish it then someone take it and do it themselves. It is just a silly toy, but it is my toy to play with.

I have witnessed one of these puzzles one twist from completion and while it was a great temptation I agreed that completing the one I had myself would be far more satisfying to see what end trinket the toy offers. I was told it contains a path to higher understanding and could open one’s mind to things you might know but never understand. That is well and good and all but I am more worried with an unbeatable puzzle than some enlightening knowledge.

The harder I think on it the more absurd the puzzle looks. Perhaps I have moved a piece in error and should slide twist and move pieces randomly and begin anew. The cold wind whispers and howls though the roof of the keep. After the mage wakes, sleep will be welcomed as the wind is starting to sound like voices, a crazy thought but the mind does strange things.

Perhaps before sleep though I can learn more of Mystery’s attacker, and the similarities between him and the Dark One I met in the camp with the completed puzzle box. I have little doubt they are one in the same. I will keep this to myself for now.

[mosur]

Self-Reflection, Self-Control

I have found myself sitting off alone pondering over what has been happening a lot lately. Things come to mind...thoughts, some from I do not know where, some from past and recent memories. Ny'alotha, I have been told is some kind of Nightmare, related to druids. The Emerald Dream? I don't know anything about that why has it come to mind. I was told it has something to do with the Old Gods maybe a N'Zoth. Something to do with the current assault on Wyrmrest possibly.

The worgen from the other day was well enough to see me. I traveled back from Dalaran and met him in the inn. Zatul and the Book elf were there as well. I did not recognize him in his human form and he didn't speak but write. I assumed he was still tired and recuperating from the previous days grievous injuries. We traveled to one of the watch towers so I could ask my questions. I was not even comfortable asking, let alone around others.

He informed me that he required more care that his lack of speaking was due to an injury. The lack of knowing what to do returned but I tried anyway. The being within him helped, assisted, directed me and after an unwelcomed interruption of some priest from Northshire we finished and he was again able to speak.

I did not want to ask, something about it felt dangerous, but I wanted to know. What was that place, that name? He told me the things that I know now, about the druids, and mentioned the name N'Zoth. I am unfamiliar with that, it does not seem as important as I thought it might be now.

I spoke not too long ago to the Little Miss. They had ventured to the End Times and found or witnessed events that could be things that would come of themselves. She was shook up at best. I had a conversation with her to help calm her.

Fear.

Fear was meant to keep you safe from danger. Fear has also recently been used as a weapon. It can keep you safe or it can cause you to make bad decisions. Which kind of fear was it? Fear opens doors, fear closes doors.

'You will be alone in the end.' Where does a thought like that come from. It may be true but why think it? Is that my fear? Am I holding myself back, do I want to know what I would find in the End Times? Do I need to know? Is not knowing cowardice? Is this a memory from the refugee's camp I stayed at for a while? An old undead in priest’s robes approached me and spoke on many things. One thing he said, ‘Everything dies, everyone here will die.’ This is true, it is not something that can be argued; is that where that thought came from?

I feel off from normal...strange thoughts. I even almost became angry with Book elf. Self-doubt, fear maybe, knowing what is wrong is how to fix it. Control and meditation. Relax and focus on my work the care of those fighting. There are still some things I wonder, some things I do not know. But that is not important at the moment. I will do my job, write my personal records, and keep my hands and mind busy with that difficult puzzle box.

[mosur]

Fire and Confusion

Are there any Templars in Dragonblight? One of the Captains crew- friends is lost

There is a lamb lost in dark woods.

Pain. He was in the inn in Winterguard. Little Miss and another Templar were there. The air was warm, first glance showed many wounds, some were deep, there was lots of blood. They were already beginning to bandage him. There was something there, there was something missing. It was bound there, like the Dictator's. It was different though they were aware of one another, they were- it was protective of him. His spirit, his soul, half of it was gone, and I did not know what to do. You think you've seen everything, you think you can fix anything. How old am I, how long did I study, how many have I looked after? Didn't know what to do.

...lamb lost in the woods.

I fumbled around off kilter, some word that had come to mind earlier from where I do not know. Ny'alotha. I was told , it was mentioned. It is something important, relevant. No, no maybe not. The other force that was there, was a type of elemental, a fire elemental, like I said same as the Dictator. The soul was ripped in half. The elemental knew what it needed, what he needed. I had ignored almost everything else that was going on around me. Book elf had joined us. I scooped up the cold body and asked the Little Miss to take me to the forge. I threw the body into the furnace, into the fire, and had Nyres shut the door. They didn't try to stop me. I would have tried to stop me. No explanation, just tossed unceremoniously the body of a more than half dead man into a furnace and closed it up.

In the sleeping city of Ny'alotha walk only mad things.

He was engulfed, the fire raged and consumed the body, no, coated the body; healed the body. It was over after a torrent of fire raged inside the…container. We took him back to the inn and laid him out. He was warm to the touch, his spirit was no longer tattered, it was filled, or blanketed with fire. No one else could see. They set to applying salve to his nearly healed wounds and reapplying the bandages. There was no sign that the fire had touched him, his bandages or his clothes, only some of his more grievous wounds, and his spirit his soul. I left after that. I wasn't needed anymore. I had been on my way to Dalaran before hand and so left promptly taking a griffon there. When I got there what I had been going for seemed less important that a good long sit in in the Lounge with a strong glass. Time to think. Did I do the right thing, why did I do that? Why didn't anyone try to stop me? It worked why does it matter...but what happened to his spirit?

All places, all things have souls. All souls can be devoured.