Ultadan Stoneguard

Historian of the Explorer's Guild | Philosopher of the Light This is an inspiration blog used for roleplay in World of Warcraft (Wyrmrest Accord-US).

[ultadan]

The doctor has recommended that I begin listing my daily events and tasks in order to continue with the therapy, for he truly believes that he can repair my shattered mind.

I slept. After sleeping, I awoke from my slumber. After waking, I left my study and walked the streets of Ironforge. After walking, I retrieved a letter from the offices. After retrieving, I stood outside the gates of Ironforge to feel the cold wind against my face. After standing, I sat inside the tavern for a drink. After sitting, I returned to my abode.

It is now nighttime. This is not working.

I must confess that this basic form of shorthand is not something that I am used to; it is very trite and boring. If it is supposed to ease my troubled mind, then I do not think it is actually doing its job, doctor. But I did not want to take the pill either.

Forgive me, my medical captor, for I must return to my preferred style of writing. Truth be told: it is impossible for you to ascertain the cause of my illness, and I may have to end our sessions prematurely. My only respite is my journal, for it is the one thing about me that is truly alive.

It is true: I did indeed die in the cold heart of Northrend.

I heard dwarven steel clashing against primitive iron.

"Altruin Cogboggler," I said, awkwardly pressing my face against the dirt prison, "What an odd name. Your voice sounds deeper than a gnome's."

I heard ice shatter under a young soldier's boots.

"It is a long story. A famous scholar such as yourself wouldn't be interested." He explained.

I heard a large beast's death rattle in response to a battlecry.

"You've read my work?" I asked.

I heard a laugh amidst the clamoring of swords.

"I have," he replied. "Impressive, but dated, I suppose."

I heard someone breaking the lock to my pit. As I turned my head to look up, the wooden bars were ripped apart.

"Altruin? What is going on?" I yelled.

A rope was lowered. I hesitantly grabbed onto it and something pulled me up -- It was Meladaris. I could tell that he was exhausted, as if he had spent the night braving the dangers of this frozen graveyard.

I raised my hands and grabbed him by the collar.

"Traitor! You left us to die! Do you wish to taunt me as I draw my final breath?!"

My voice was loud, but Meladaris was the only other being in the cave besides me and Altruin. Did he kill the rest of the snobolds?

"No," he calmly responded, "If there is anyone that I have betrayed, it is not you, blind one."

I let go of him. The sounds of bloodshed were growing louder. He started towards a direction opposite of the fighting -- a way out?

"Wait! Where are you going?! We have to find the others!"

He turned back, unsheathing one of his blades.

"I have done my part in this mission. You have no need of me anymore."

He raised his blade towards me, threateningly. He spoke as I stepped back in fear.

"Speak of this to no one, Stoneguard. You leave me to deal with my demons, and I will leave you to yours. If you follow me, it will be as if you died in the snow."

As he disappeared, I turned around to identify the source of warmongering as it made its way into the prison: Leingod, Gabranth, and Hayden, accompanied by a hunting party of dwarves. I was wrong; they never did forget about me.

"Altruin, don't worry down there! A rescue party is here to save us."

"Ultadan, come here! I need to tell you something."

We trekked through Dragonblight for an hour. By then, Gabranth had already appraised me of the situation. It seems like the boy and the old man had their own battles to fight.

The dwarves, led by Garagrim Hornsmith, stayed in the cave to clear out the remaining snobolds for their contract. Hayden, previously taken captive by the same vermin, had already found her way out earlier and led the party to our prison to rescue us. Altruin, a warlock who makes a living out of putting himself in precarious situations in the name of 'cultural studies', had traveled to Northrend in order to examine the relationship between snobolds and magnataurs.

During the walk, Hayden stayed silent, Gabranth and Leingod conversed about the possibility of acquiring a ship, and Altruin and I debated the differences between tauren and troll society. Each argument always ended with a knowing smile on Altruin's face and an annoyed grimace on mine.

Soon enough, we had found an old road leading to a crossroads for travelers and hunters. At this point, Altruin shook all of our hands and said, "It was a pleasure to travel with you all, friends. Thank you for the timely rescue. And Ultadan," he continued, "Our conversations were enjoyable, even if your points were a bit, ah, well-- I will send you a letter of my findings here in Dragonblight. Perhaps you will include them in your next paper? Of course you will!"

Before I could respond, he bid us good day as he marched off to find his own awkward adventure -- probably from the inside of some cage in Tanaris.

As we neared the tavern, Hayden took the opportunity to ask around for a ship. Once she left, it was not long before the other two started asking me about Meladaris.

"Ultadan," Leingod said, "We have been looking everywhere, and one of the dwarves claimed they saw someone sneaking into the snobold cave as they entered. We cannot leave this continent without him! Leave no one behind."

"He has a duty to the group," Gabranth added, "Were it not for him deserting us, we would not be in such a critical state like this. Did you ever see him?"

As they spoke to me, I began to unintentionally tune them out until they were nothing but echoes. I blurred my vision by staring off into the snow and thought about what the elf had told me. Does he suffer from my condition?

Leingod took a firm hold of my shoulder, thinking that I had been daydreaming. "Ultadan?"

"No, not since the temple. I think he does not want to be found," I replied. "The elf is strong enough to survive living within a dragon's bowels, so I do not believe the ice has killed him yet. This place," I continued, pointing towards the frozen cliffs past the entrance, "This is what he craves. He is within his element here. I do not know what you said to him back at the temple, Gabranth, but he is out there somewhere because of it, I think. Perhaps he is exploring the area, and maybe even himself."

Leingod crossed his arms and sighed, but I could tell that he understood my words; he was also a warrior. Surely he has given into his primal urges at some point in his career. Zackary has shown that he can control himself, I noticed.

Gabranth did not seem impressed, however. Understandable. He had gone through much this entire campaign, and I know nothing about what happened between him and the elf. Time will tell, I suppose.

"Hate to interrupt, but I was able to convince one of the boys in there to give us a ride back to Stormwind. Let's get a move on?" Hayden said, as she exited the tavern. Knowing her, she either persuaded one of the local sailors with her looks. Or worse: her fists.

We had all quieted down, unsure of the current situation. Did we all just agree to leave Meladaris behind? I know Zackary didn't, but I had to reassure him that this was for the best. By now, he probably understood that the elf had something important to do and that he would survive and return to Stormwind. Besides, our work was done: the boy had already found the phylactery with Gabranth's assistance.

When the awkward silence attempted to take hold of our group, Leingod immediately stepped forward and said, "Then we leave. Meladaris' fortitude is great-- maybe even greater than mine. I truly believe that he will survive and complete whatever quest he is on; I understand a warrior's duty, not only to his people, but to himself." He brought a gloved fist to his chest, bowed his head in some sort of soldier's prayer, and nodded.

"Let's go home."

A familiar situation.

Ultadan, come here! I need to tell you something.

I sat in a cabin similar to the one on the Divulge.

Here, hoist me up, friend. I believe you will enjoy this.

The ice on my satchel began to melt as I placed it upon the table.

In ruins that seemed alien to me, I found this hiding in the snow.

I reached into the satchel and pulled out an item wrapped in a red cloth.

Open it once you reach civilization where it's safe. Don't want it to get damaged here.

I slowly unwrapped the object and set the cloth on the table.

I have no use for it. I would rather live in the present than study relics of the past.

A large bronze gear with intricate patterns carved within the metal.

Perhaps this will help you write your paper on, ah, what was it again... Ulduar?

I wrapped the gear with the cloth and hid it within my satchel.

Come now, let's get out of here, friend. I would rather this place not be our grave.

A sailor knocked on my cabin door. I yelled at him to leave. He will not steal my artifact. The artifact that I have been searching for. The reason why I accompanied Leingod to Northrend. The reason why I died.

My hand is cramping. I have written much tonight. I feel much better, doctor. I am telling the truth. Do not come near me.

[zack-leingod-deactivated2020030]

[ultadan]

Zackary sauntered down the streets of cobblestone, venturing home after a long days work at the blacksmith. The sun was setting, and the human stopped to observe its majesty, a half-smile spreading across his lips as he stood and appreciated the beauty that painted the sky, but it was mere...

[altruin-blog]

"Ultadan Stoneguard?" I replied as the dull yet powerful ache of my skull delayed my comprehension of the words as they were spoken to me. The name was not unfamiliar: Ultadan Stoneguard - Historian of the Explorer’s Guild. I had read some of his writings prior, but for what reason he would be...

[fel-imp]

"Yes, I promise. We’ll reconvene at another time, preferably later on in the week. I’ll contact the others, yes. Good evening, Zackary."

Zackary’s departure from Gabranth’s study was signified through the creaking of floorboards and the clicking of latches. Not long after his footsteps faded, Gabranth extinguished a few candles and settled in at his desk and opened an old journal:

The otherworldly intruder marched down from the promenade and closer to Zackary, eyeing his shift in stances. The dark one motioned for Zackary to stay his hand and relinquish his hold upon his weapon and quite possibly meaning his life. I… dwelled in my state of cowardice for what seemed an eternity and all the while this wretch took fascination in Zackary’s poise… The boy was frozen, as was I, but with concentrated willpower he was able to retain his stoic composure.

Out of nowhere the beast began siphoning essence out of Zackary, his cries were smothered in an instant. I vaguely recall details of the transgression for it ended so abruptly. One moment, aloft in the air he hung weightless… and the next, a startling crash revealed his dilemma. I know not of what he had done to Zackary, and truth be told I am not sure he remembers the incident himself. I thought of all the things he had been put through, in the face of his gods would he tell the truth?

My eyes went blind in a manner that I cannot explain, I knew the Light worked in mysterious ways but I thought not that I would ever see it manifest. Warmth. I truly basked in its warmth at that moment, whether delirious or not I remember Hector’s figure appearing within the godrays that blessed us, blinded by the man that the boy could become.

I stood to face the oppressor, his resolve unrelenting, as if the aforementioned miracle did not phase — or did he not see it? No matter. His form quiet, I chose not to question him as Zackary did but instead offered an ultimatum, “You’ll listen to reason when cast face down, fiend! You will stomach your sins as if found wanting — Back to the hells where you’ve come from!”

I choked upon those words, the behemoth’s mighty swing broke me… The Light’s inspiration nothing more than false courage.

Behind me, however, the boy stirred. Perhaps the Light made not an attempt for me, but for him. The warmth of its radiance nothing but secondhand smoke to my core as it empowered the boy, for in that moment I saw in him not Zackary Leingod, but Hector Thatcher.

[zack-leingod-deactivated2020030]

Leingod awoke that morning rejuvenated, basking in solace, for the first time in months he had been bestowed a peaceful nights rest. He took a confident stride outside the door of his small home, enjoying the simple life Stormwind offered its citizenship.

He spent that day...

[ultadan]

"Greetings," it replied.

Incredible. There lived in this cave another prisoner besides me. I wanted to thank Khaz'goroth for giving me someone to converse with; it is possible that this man had seen the snobolds drag me into this blighted place earlier--hm, or maybe not. Perhaps he remained unconscious as well.

"I... I am Ultadan Stoneguard," I whispered, "Who are you? How long have you been captured?"

As I awaited the man's response, I took the time to read to myself the previous journal entry about my comrades--about how they abandoned me. Throughout this entire journey, I had never actually taken the time to look over any of my writings. Embarrassing, really, especially for a historian. Perhaps a cursory glance of the recent page will offer some insight into my warped perspective of this entire adventure.

You are not wrong.

What...? I wrote this? No, it can't be. What is this about Leingod working as an agent for the Scarlets? Even for me, this was a foolish conspiracy theory--did I really write this? "Should anyone find this journal, please bring it to the King of Stormwind," I muttered aloud the crazed thesis statement from the previous entry. I do not believe this is my writing; I believe captivity is driving me truly insane--I wrote that I had been here for weeks, but that is illogical! Surely I would have died of thirst by then.

I lowered my voice to a growl, "Whoever you are, how long have I been here? Has it been weeks?"

The snobolds have been cultivating that damned bloodspore plant in this dark cave for so long that it has made it difficult for me to breathe. Wait-- Perhaps that is what clouds my thinking? Perhaps that is why my handwriting had been reduced to mad scribbling. This theory must be verified.

Luckily enough, the dumb creatures had left my backpack in the pit with me, so I wasted no time in searching for my environmental notebook amongst the awkward clutter of crushed paper and scattered tools. After navigating through the different chapters, I found myself in the section marked "Flora." Once I thumbed through the pages, I located the plant's description and read it quietly:

"The Bloodspore plant: A red flower that originated in the Borean Tundra due to extreme pollination by the aptly-named Bloodspore moths; the spores themselves give off an acrid smell to most humanoids, but the local snobolds and magnataurs seem to find it pleasant. Studies suggest that the magnataurs force the snobolds to protect these moths thereby encouraging bloodspore growth, giving the Plains its reddish look. Snobolds carry crushed pieces of this plant within the receptacles on their heads, not unlike their kobold cousins who mirror this practice with candles.

ADDENDUM 1: The dominant allele (notated R) seems to cause the red phenotype in the plants. Pollination in Borean plants suggests true-breeding of homozygous dominant (RR) flora; as of yet, there are no recorded instances of the recessive (r) allele displaying itself in the plant, thereby implying that there are no heterozygous (Rr) or homozygous recessive (rr) plants in the Tundra.

ADDENDUM 2: The smell is known to cause hallucinations in humans based on reports from explorers in the Borean area. It is unknown if anything -- a cure or a poison -- can be manufactured from the plant.

ADDENDUM 3: Snobold migration patterns have brought the plant to both Dragonblight and the Storm Peaks. Hybridization of this plant in new areas may create new organisms, but this has not been examined yet."

Of course that's the reason.

The plants... they must have been causing me to hallucinate. My thoughts are blurred, my reasoning is poisoned. My accursed theories about my friends.... I only have enough room on this page to fit in a closing statement. I shall make it count.

Friends, forgive me. I am unstable. I have reached my limit in this unforgiving pit... this prison. Something here is causing me to lose faith in all of you, and I am truly sorry. Should I die, bury me with my work. No one should carry my burden, for it was too dangerous for any mortal to handle.

Interestingly enough, I paused and thought of the boy: Zackary Leingod. When we conversed in the temple, he stared at the winged beings on the wall. Why? His interpretation of the art had somehow inspired me; it was like watching someone discover a clue to a long forgotten mystery -- a feeling that I knew all too well. I must admit, Zackary, there is much to be learned from you. I am sorry for ever doubting you.

As I finished writing, I glanced across the area of the pit to where the human corpse had been laying. My eyes widened. It... disappeared? Had it turned undead and found its way out? No, illogical, I would have noticed, and it surely would have killed me. It- It was not real then? Was that why I became so used to the smell of undeath--a smell that I conveniently cannot describe? A hallucination so palpable that it took me by the neck and forced me to slander my companions! This had to have been the work of the bloodspores; I'm sure of it. And yet... I wasn't.

Off to kill someone else, demon?

[meladarisblueoak]

The commotion at the temple rumbled in my ears as I struggled forth through the onslaught of ice and snow. The sounds of clashing steel and rippling arcane echoed in the distance behind me, as I refused to falter in my pace. The frozen air cut at my face, creating a subtle but sharp pain as the saline passed over.

Although Gabranth was at least a century younger than myself, the insight and wisdom that he had accumulated from his decades of study had ranked him as one of the few I could claim as equal. Nothing more, my pride spoke out.

I came cross a small dip in a mountain, which allowed for some shelter and rest from the wind and walk, at least for a short while. I leaned against the freezing rock as I adjusted my cloak around my neck. I curled up into a ball, clasping to the little body heat I had left. As I began to lose feeling in my legs, my thoughts had began to drift elsewhere.

—

Do not mourn for me, An’da, for the demons that haunt you are only the ones that you have chosen not to let go. I miss the warmth that you once had, and the smile that I cannot picture you without. You were so full of joy, and it worries me to see it gone from you. I have made Elune herself promise to watch over you and those you protect now. I will see you again, one day, but you still have much work to do for so many people. But please, do hurry home. Mother has been waiting for you.

[fel-imp]

I remember snobolds overwhelming Hayden and I, losing our fight.

I remember my fading consciousness, thoughts of death and the end.

I remember the last moment of our struggle and Zack’s triumphant victory, laced with defeat.

I remember watching as Zackary grew into a man as...

[zack-leingod-deactivated2020030]

The tranquility of Stormwinds untroubled and amicable atmosphere brought a jubilant smile to Zack’s lips, observing from afar as the children played quietly with one another at the orphanage within the heart of the Cathedral District. It was Children’s Week, a long-established tradition where...

[altruin-blog]

The first thing I noticed as I regained consciousness was that my head was throbbing with a headache the likes of which I had never felt. Shortly after, once I was able to persuade my eyes to flutter open, I noticed how peculiar it was to find myself stored away in such a frigid location and not...

[fel-imp]

Thunderous vibrations shook the temple walls, bestial chattering of ill-intent; I remember that evening well, the night Ultadan and Meladaris vanished.

I remember watching as Zack was struck by the magnataur’s war club, the crunch of his figure eroding the pillars of the sanctum.

I remember Meladaris’ silhouette dashing from the archways of the holy ground, doubting his cowardice, unable to catch his intentions.

I remember the snobolds, their insatiable lust for material possession, the magnataur’s assault on the temple a ruse to breach the sanctum’s walls, to pillage and raid.

I didn’t remember Ultadan at all that night. I wish I did, but I don’t. I care to not tread into thoughts of in what decrepit hole he sank into, my heart could not bear it.

[ultadan]

I am wrong. Always have been, always will be. My journal entries serve as proof of this declaration. For now, I will continue to count the droplets of water produced by the looming ice stalactite--soon it will break apart and impale me.

Did you hear that? The blizzard stopped!

The flow of the entries has been interrupted because of the events that transpired after our lodging at Wyrmrest Temple. I have not had a chance to write in my field journal ever since I was captured by the snobolds. Yes, I believe it has been weeks since the horrid creatures threw me into this unholy pit; the decaying stench of the human next to me serves as my only remaining link to the outside world while the choking mist of the snobolds' bloodspore flowers slowly clouds my senses. This is punishment for all of my sins.

There are too many of them!

I remember talking to the boy; he was enamored by winged beings on the temple wall. I remember the elf and Gabranth; I heard shouting and then the fire went out--our only light source. We congregated around the smoking heap, clearly aware of the awkward tension between Meladaris and the older human. Before one of us could speak, we heard the sound of thunder: metal striking the stone walls of our cold refuge.

A magnataur had entered our sanctuary. I turned my head and the elf was gone. Gabranth's hand had already caught fire in anger while the boy unceremoniously charged the beast, almost immediately being swatted away by his large cudgel. I blinked and the snobold followers began to beat me with their weapons. The battle was quick, and I could no longer see where my friends were because of the blood in my eyes.

Where is everyone?!

They dragged me through the snow, yet they apparently did not care for the decrepit old man throwing fire at them or the useless trollop refusing to leave the side of the armored sociopath who believes his woman will forgive him for his twisted sense of morality. And in the midst of this one-sided fight, the elf Meladaris had vanished--why now of all times? Instead, they took me. While it was not obvious to Leingod, our group was -clearly- not united. We were a crude representation of the Horde, a caricature of the savages who survive only by deception and war. And yet, I could make a similar case for the Alliance, our beloved Alliance.

Even with this accursed spectre inside of my head, I have never compromised. Tempt me as you wish, ghost, for I will continue to persevere throughout this campaign. I stopped both you and Sesoth from killing Gabranth, and you could not prevent me from exacting justice upon that goblin murderer. But-- But you must keep me company. Please. I am truly alone here, for there is no one out there who will remember me.

There is no one here.

It has been made apparent that I have been abandoned. Surely they would have found this dreadful place already, but weeks have already gone by with no rescue party in sight. No, I believe Meladaris escaped the area because he knew how incredibly foolish this quest was; I do not blame him. We never respected each other, anyway. And Gabranth? I cannot blame you, for I brought you here. Yes, this is my punishment! It is only fair that you live and I die in your place. But the others... the brute Leingod probably never even noticed that -two- of his men are missing, not with that Hayden constantly distracting him.

There is only one explanation: Leingod must have made the executive decision to leave Northrend without me and the elf.

I believe they have already killed the warlock and saved Laeima Whiteblade in my absence. It has been far too long for them not to. Therefore, I predict the following scenarios to take place at the time of this writing: Gabranth lays in his deathbed in his hovel as he regrets ever listening to me; Meladaris returns to Teldrassil, refusing to return to Stormwind after what had happened; Hayden deliberately falls on a sword, realizing that she cannot spend her life with the boy; Leingod brings his woman to the Cathedral, blinded by his own ludicrous dreams of becoming a fabled hero; Whiteblade continues to poison the church with her lies. Yes, I know of her work. I studied in that damned building for years before she was even born. An inquisitor? What? Why is there an inquisitor working within Cathedral? Is she a Scarlet in disguise?

It cannot be.

Should anyone find this journal, please bring it to the King of Stormwind--the priests cannot be trusted. The truth is in here! Leingod had us save Whiteblade because she is a high-ranking Scarlet inquisitor, and that they both must sow seeds of corruption within the church. No wonder the boy's personality was so unrealistic. It all makes sense now. They are all the same, just like Hewitt; they never left the Dauntless Hand. But... what of Sesoth?

A roar was heard in the distance. The snobolds cheered for their primal god. I have no idea why they kept me alive for so long. Perhaps they had forgotten about me because I have been so quiet. As I thought about the logic behind their infernal chanting, I heard someone else whisper. Remembering that there were multiple pits in this cave, I put my ear to the dirt wall of my prison and listened carefully.

"Hello?"

[zack-leingod-deactivated2020030]

"A great leaders courage to fulfill his vision comes from passion, not position, let your actions inspire those to dream more, learn more, and do more, for alone each brave warrior is formidable, but united we shall stand invincible." — Zackary Leingod

The rage of the wintry blizzard bellowed...

[meladarisblueoak]

I awoke with a gasp for air as my chest began to concave violently, creating a sharp yelp of pain that only remained within my throat. I felt the cold chill of blunt steel rain against my chest, forcing my body to mold inward. I tried to raise myself, but my arms were leaden and I could not move them. The pain began to swell, coursing through my entire body as I fought with every fiber to remain conscious.  I continued to bear the onslaught of blows, as my body became battered. I heard the shattering of bone as I lost control of my torso and I felt the wind fade from my lungs. In the moments before I faded once more, I cursed myself for letting my guard down

—-

The second time I awoke began much slower. My eyelids drifted open, letting in the low-light from the temple at twilight. I retched forward, and coughed up a thick, murky liquid into my palm. I gazed at it momentarily, gazing into the small window the abyss had created. It’s just blood, I said to myself, hoping the lesser of two evils would calm my already aching soul. I took in my surroundings, and noticed the missing boy and dwarf. Both shared in their fits of insomnia, but I doubted it was ever for the same reason.

Whatever sickness that damned city of Stormwind threw upon me begins to wear out its welcome, I thought as I threw off the meager linen I had used to covered myself. I took tally of the party currently remaining. Hayden appeared restless in her sleep. Something had been eating at her since our time in Quel’thalas, but I had no idea on what to place the blame on. Most likely that damned Sin’dorei. If  we weren’t knocking on Silvermoon’s front door, I would’ve had him strewn limb from limb, and tearing that worn-out smirk in two. I turned further and was only slightly surprised to see the mage still awake, tending to his flames. Gabranth’s face remained shadowed, even remaining so close to the fire. His frail frame barely held together as he struggled to keep warm within the desolate halls. Gabranth turned his attention from his flame to address the night elf.

"You’re the only one who has so much trouble catching rest." The mage wore a half-smile, clearly exhausted himself.

"Then why are you still awake? Where are Ultadan and the boy, if not in their beds?", I responded curtly, not having the patience to take any form of accusation.

Gabranth let out a small chuckle, then returned to prodding the fire. “Never worry the matters of a dwarf, especially the one with which we keep company. And the boy…” The mage sighed heavily. “When has a child ever stayed tucked away at bedtime? Though I suppose, there is little trouble he can find himself inside these walls. I may very well eat those words.”

I found a pause between the mage’s rambling and spoke up. “I am fine, Gabranth. I haven’t found myself in such cold in a while. It takes a while to get used to.”

"Make your excuses, night elf. I’ve heard quite the few from you."

I sat back, eying down the old wizard. He continue to poke at the fire, but kept his gaze focused. He continued,

"You said you were ready for this, Meladaris. All I see is a shell, without spirit."

"That’s because you tire, shan’do. Come, and have your moment of rest. Maybe you can find the spirit, then.” I spoke my words with heavy bitterness, as I felt my fist slightly tremble.

I watched as the small smile Gabranth wore vacate as he turned himself about to face me. His face was skeletal but his eyes remained piercing, tearing through me with his stone gaze. I could feel the immense power that the mage carried as it soared around the room like the Aspects that once convened in this place.

     “There is no rest for me. You -all- have left me with no other choice. Especially you. Zackary’s quest is already foolish enough, but you!” The mage’s eyes widened, as the room began to dim. Gabranth raised his voice. “What demons have you managed to bring along this time? Will they be satisfied with you, or will they demand more? What else are you going to sacrifice this time? You have no family left, and you will not take what is left of mine.”

With his final words, the fire faded, and I was left in bleak.

[ultadan]

“Incredible! Come here, Meladaris! It’s one of your kin!”

I found myself standing on the edge of the ship, staring out eagerly into the sea as a naga rode a large wave towards us. Her trident had an otherworldly design; her voice... soothing, deceptive. Perhaps I was cognizant of only the former, for I had already reached out a hand towards the creature, enamored by her haunting death chant. No, the melody was unimportant, this thing was a herald, I am sure of it! What are you trying to tell me, messenger? Is there something down there that I must find?

Her reply came in the form of burning to death as Gabranth forcefully pulled me away from my watery grave and finished the monster off with a conjured fireball. He turned around to give me a scrutinizing look that I had seen multiple times before-- Ultadan, what were you thinking? Ultadan, why do you keep putting yourself in danger? If I didn't know any better, I would say that he might have read my notes, he didn't seem angry with me, though. That implies he didn't see them, but I still have to be careful. No one must see them, not even Meladaris.

Get off the ship.

The rest of the trip involved mindless trudging through blood-caked snow, presumably made by the roaming magnataurs in their violent search for food. It was very cold, and I felt vulnerable. I suggested that we lodge at Wyrmrest Temple, abandoned by the Dragon Aspects after the loss of their deluded Earth-Warder. A god, a ruler. The boy did not like my idea at first, but I effectively persuaded him otherwise. Truthfully, I cared not for shelter; instead, my studies pointed to a certain artifact in Northrend that I wanted to find. Perhaps I would find it in the temple.

Go inside.

As I lay on the hard floor of the sanctuary, I heard Zackary walking up the stairs, likely unable to sleep. I don't blame him. This place is too intriguing for one to stay still-- it must be explored. Quietly, I stepped over the slumbering elf and slowly made my way up the steps to find the captain staring at a depiction of what seemed to be winged beings circling an orb of light. "Fascinating, yes?" I said to him, "This entire structure was created by the titans, so the art may be the dragons' representation of them. Or perhaps these women were their creations, helpers of some sort." I noticed that he was completely entranced with the artwork, but he also seemed distant. "Ah, I see," I stated, "Needed something to take your mind off of Quel'Thalas? I'm not angry with you, I've no reason to be, but I believe you should make peace with Gabranth-- walk the path of redemption, I say. It's the only logical choice."

As I waited for him to answer, I heard the blizzard outside grow increasingly louder, deliberately trapping us within the titanic monument.

[zack-leingod-deactivated2020030]

[ultadan]

"As the archangels took up swords of light to defend the heavens, so must the holy mortals of earth be prepared to combat the dark tide that were quickly approaching from the south." — The First War

Howling winds rained down against our sanctuary in a raging blizzard of ice and snow. We were safe within the confinements of the temple, but how long would the storm last? I could not sleep .. I was too eager, anxious. I felt my hands begin to shake as I stood from my cot, yet it was not the cold that caused me to tremble.

I continued to explore the temple while my comrades slept. I did my best not to wake them as I maneuvered around their still forms. 

My hands grew calm as I stared up at the veiled ceiling of beautiful winged creatures that looked otherworldly in nature. I was never a religious man. I was never fond of the idea of having my destiny governed by fate. My light came from another source entirely. If I believed in myself, that is all that would matter. I aspired to be a good person for the sake of being good, not because a benevolent force told me to do so.

The depictions upon the upper surface of Wyrmrest Temple intrigue me to a point I cannot explain. What are those winged beings, who are they? Is it possible that the portrayals of illustrations serve as a representation, hoping we may comprehend what they are, or what they mean? It’s almost an eerie feeling. These depictions have been seen before, alluding us in silence through history. Some call them angels, some call them spirit healers or guardians from heaven. A’dal spoke of such a place before, but does it truly exist? I took the time to examine myself momentarily, running a gloved digit against one of the winged spaulders of my armor.   

                                 ”These wings ..”

I doubt these illustrations are what many of the past have claimed them to be, but perhaps they are an otherworldly race created by the titans, serving a purpose. I am impotent in my efforts to relieve my gaze from the beholding sights depicted above, something drawing me in that I can’t explain. It has been hours and my gaze has not lifted from the enthralling portrayals overhead, and yet I still don’t understand what these images mean.

Perhaps I am foolish, but I will regard these paintings as a glimpse into the past, a story not yet told to that of mortal ears, so.. come out, friends.. show us the intensity of your brilliance, share with us your wisdom, share with us your wings.

[zack-leingod-deactivated2020030]

Welcome to Northrend…

Northrends wintry coast applauded our arrival with a frigid zephyr of breath — gentle, yet raw-biting to my flesh, the taste of mockery upon the gelid winds of the north. The travesty of it was disturbing, as if the haunting lands themselves sought to test our resolve, confounded with our triumph against the trials of the sea.

Divulge could venture no further, the large floating masses of ice detached from the glaciers hindering our ships path. I told Captain Robb to sail home with his loyal crew, that the dangers of our venture would not follow their briny return to Stormwind. Robb is a good man and I don’t know what I would do if he and his crew died here in this frozen wasteland.

We left Robb and his men with most of our supplies, and though I fear for our own survival, it felt like the right thing to do. I would gladly go without for the sake of our allies if it meant their safe return home, they had done so much for us. We all climbed down a rope onto a small mass of frozen land from the vessel, observing as Gabranth began to fabricate a bridge of rime ice as we carefully sauntered across it until finally reaching the shoreline of Dragonblight. I looked over my shoulder, watching as the ship disappeared. They will be safe I thought, danger will not follow them. The last time I was here I was very young, yet the coldness of this frozen hell still bites to the bone, but heroes do not yield to their trepidations — I will not let these lands conquer me or my loyal comrades.

This all began with my own selfish pursuit to save my love, Laeima, but it must end with Sesoth’s demise. An evil like that should never exist in this world, not ever again. We pressed onward through the impediment of snow, indefatigable — but if we did not find shelter quickly, we would freeze to death. Ultadan persuaded the group to seek out Wyrmrest Temple, and though I did not agree with this notion, the rest of us were convinced it was the best course of action. The temple would give us time to recuperate from our long travels at sea, and most importantly keep us warm. I have come to know Ultadan very well, the dwarf was a historian of the Explorer’s Guild, obsessed with knowledge and study, and these were his motives for seeking out the temple as shelter, surely. I wrapped my cloak around Hayden as she shook from the inhospitable cold, offering her a faint smile, though she did not smile in return. Meladaris seemed unfazed by the harsh land, trudging through the snow ahead of the group in a confident stride.

                             Hours later…

We reached the temple unscathed — its magnificence abandoned by the once immortal dragon aspects. The temple was completely empty and quiet as we let ourselves in, vigilant of possible danger, we prepared ourselves for battle. I unsheathed my Zweihander to find nothing lurking within the darkness of the temple, all was safe, free of risk. It was evident Gabranth was still vexed with me, as well as Ultadan, but it was not spoken aloud since we’d left Stormwind. The mage produced a magical burning flame in the middle of the temple, offering us warmth from the cold. The rest of us settled in around the fire, but I found myself distanced from the group. I wandered off, roaming up the stairs to explore the temple myself. I beheld depictions of winged figures painted along the ceilings of the temple, intrigued. Just what were these winged creatures? I reached a balcony, looking on past the blanched wasteland of Northrend. Was I the man Hector intended for me to be? Was I right to lead this band of brave heroes?

I looked on past the terrace, flakes of snow descending from the sky — consoling myself in silence.