I keep abandoning this thing.

Sankareth approached me and asked me about - well, to say he worries too much is an understatement. He worries that his elven girlfriend may find an elf that she likes and leave him and has all these concerns about what she may think of what others may think. I pulled her aside to talk to her about it and she had the same "What do I care?" attitude about it, though I at least was able to inform her that he isn't trying to get out of the relationship, he's just worried.

Basically, a waste of both our time.

And since when did I become somebody that people went to for relationship advice? I don't get it. Yes, some are aware that I do have someone and that he is at war, but nobody has ever seen me with him. Just saying, "Yes, my boyfriend is a Troll" does not mean I'm a good person to talk to about inter-racial relations.

Talahra continues to drive me batty with her "well if it's not a problem for me it can't POSSIBLY be a problem for ANYONE ELSE" attitude. Oh, look at you, thinking you're so bloody perfect - like the Nether you are. At least she hasn't offered to help me again. I would not let that woman or her husband lay a single flash of their bloody Light on me if my life depended on it. The last time a human tried to touch me I set him on FIRE.

The Felguard is working out fairly well. I am better able to control it and myself, it gains its energy from the pain of my victims, etc., etc.

I am not looking forward to the day I see Talahra with her baby, espousing the virtues of parenthood and questioning why various others aren't making such a divine sacrifice or some other nonsense. She makes me physically ill.

Perhaps I will wear this dress I received on Friday. I also was sent an order for a suit from some Ebon Blade contingent or another.

Arushi
Rodrich
Kavita
Adelrich
Tuhina
My wife
Cornelius
Krensythe

I do not remember having blonde hair. Fixed the issue in the Undercity.

Do not remember these scars. Apothecaries must have stitched my face back together when my body was recovered.

Records indicate that Adelrich lives within City limits. Wife still in Shattrath. Tuhina, unsure, Northrend - has not lived in Silvermoon for a long time.

My name is Adelphius Dawngarde Blightblade.

For the past two or three weeks I have been receiving gifts. They have all been quietly delivered to my new apartment in Dalaran, always wrapped in red paper, my name written in formal script on the tag - my full name, which nobody refers to - and always left in front of the door. The gifts range from jewelry to perfume to tasteful dresses - all of Sin'dorei make.

If they were from Grub I can imagine they wouldn't be Sin'dorei as I'm fairly certain I've made clear my lack of attachment to my own people.

I keep adding the gifts to the chest that I procured from mother before I moved in which used to contain some of father's formal wear but it has all inexplicably disappeared.

She probably sold it for booze money.

I obtained a beautiful sword from the depths of Utgarde Keep. The Weaponsmith in Dalaran tells me it is a dagger, but it seems rather large to be considered such.

I have been delving into the study of Demonology now that I seem to have developed some level of control and, strangely enough, it's relatively satisfying having a large axe-wielding creature keeping my foes at bay as I quietly set everything on fire, though I'd rather have a more active traveling companion - one that speaks beyond threats and that I don't have to discipline with a well-placed curse.

Every so often I look out my window to Icecrown and I think, "I'm not ready," but I know that the sooner I get out there...



I'm working in Dragonblight. It's not particularly pleasant, but it's not Warsong Hold, either.

I need to make some cloth and extra bags for when I head back out. Also, extra bags to fulfill my end of the contract so I have enough money to look after myself for when I come back.

And fish. Lots of fish.

At the gathering on Friday evening I found a duo that absolutely annoyed the piss out of me.

Normally, husbands and wives do not bother me in the least - they act as properly as they can in public, those of elven persuasion, and keep matters of the house out of the picture. They do not dote upon each other, make arrangements between one another in regard to laundry or shopping, and are able to make conversation without constant referral to their status as husband and wife. They are polite and keep their noses out of the business of others unless it is requested.

Not so with miss Talahra and her husband.
( Rant rant rant. )

(( The majority of her journal has been taken over by sketches and diagrams - Northrend wildlife with smatterings of certain Trolls and featureless elves as clothing models - with simple notes like, "Purchase more eternium thread!" and "keep eternal fire separate from netherweave cloth stores" strewn throughout. Actual content begins nearly a month ago, with brief mention of a "Refuge", a "half-way house for those of us that live someplace between 'adventurer' and 'hermit'", and repeated notations about how "the Forsaken are terrible employers so stop trying to get work from them."

On the previous page, "Legerdemain far too civilized for my tastes anymore, but the Animal is too loud and a strange old man keeps trying to rifle through my things back at the Refuge," is scrawled at the top of the page. A sketch of Akombe with a pair of underwear on his head ("CLEAN!!!" with an arrow pointing to them) takes up the rest of it. In thick, large letters, "Have since put locks on drawers" is written below. ))

I keep venturing back to the Fjord in the hopes of extending my stay there, only to skip back to the Tundra after becoming horrendously pissed at the Forsaken, then to scurry back to Moa'ki or Dalaran after being reduced to a fuming "red-skin" by Orcish asshattery. I am putting off the trip into Icecrown as best I can, despite repeatedly telling myself - and others - that I am working so hard to be able to help Grub out up there.

I would be lying if I said I was not scared shitless at the prospect.

So again I have retreated to Dalaran to sew, and sew, and sew, and have built up an impressive collection of Frostweave knickers and socks. There is a rather stylish hat that I wish to make for myself, but I fear it would wind up as an oversized pair of panties considering how I'm so used to sewing those.

I would take up another hobby if I wasn't afraid of the outcome. I mean, I could cook, but looking at miss Fandaleen I really don't think --

Oh that's terrible and you know it.

(( The writing meanders a bit, becoming slightly loopy as if she wasn't entirely paying attention to the quality of her penmanship. ))

I cannot quite place what this object is that I have sewn, I would venture to call it a "cozy" of some sort but I am not -- oh right. I don't know of anyone that will be needing to keep that warm out here. I don't think. I am certainly not asking around --

(( Again the writing returns to its usual quality. ))

I've been asked, repeatedly, to help out in Dragonblight. I've been warming up with my spells and occasionally attempting to get back into the habit, but it's... I don't want to go out there. But I'm needed there, so I will go, and it will stop me from making more socks, or underwear, or worrying.

I'm not worried. I'm not! We're all adults and can look after ourselves.

Possibly.

I need a good, stiff drink.

... I think I'm getting fat.

(( As with Adelrich's recording, this one is also mostly clear. There's a quiet murmur of a crowd in the background. ))

"Since I told Adel the reason I made these recording devices to begin with he's been all doom and gloom and 'I told you that you should have stopped with that Fel business ages ago', which I knew but it's the only thing that's worked for me. He continues to hint that I should drop everything and continue the family while I can but I told him that I can't anyway because I can't have children and he seems to forget that I'm not very good with them. I'm not doing that to Grub.

"I've been taking a break from fighting to try out the fishing in Northrend and to work on becoming a better cook. So far it's working out pretty great, though I'm thinking of moving back to Silvermoon on a part-time basis. Maybe I can fish for a living and sell my wares in the city or open a café? Then again, with all the crazy-types in the city anymore I'm not sure I could do that. I've also taken up sewing again and I'm doing a bit better at it now than before.

"I'm going to miss tinkering, but um. I'm tired of risking life and limb every time I test a project."

*Pause. Tap tap.*

"I'm probably doing just that right now!"

(( The sound quality is surprisingly good for a device of Sin'dorei make: the crackling is slight, the background noise is low - perhaps the result of being in a quiet recording location - and there's no distortion. ))

"Tuhina Dawngarde's last act as an engineer has been to devise a pair of these odd boxes for recording our voices in a manner that I will not even pretend to understand; suffice it to say that I am a bit wary that at least one will explode and I am not prepared to pick shrapnel from my face at this point in my life.

*A pause as Adel clears his throat.*

"She has decided that she will not be an engineer for much longer due to her failing eyesight. At best guess, Tuhina will manage to retain some semblance of sight for the next year or two, after which point she will lose it entirely..."

*He trails off and there's another pause, this one longer than the last.*

"... I think I am done with this for the time being."

Spent some time with Grub in all senses of the word. At one point he started muttering something about - I'm not entirely sure. It's fine, though, he even said so.

I think I sounded like a complete idiot the entire time that we sat together, talking, and at one point he was tickling me - I need a new set of armour. It shows a little too much skin.

I'm happy he's safe, very relieved, and it was nice to have something warm to curl up with out here. I'm not sure what else to say. There are some times that I really notice the size difference, though~

I need to see what it will take to make myself a flying machine - you know, while I'm still capable of that.

(( A scrap of paper tucked into his Little Waterstained Slightly-Burned Off-Black-So-Kinda Gray book: ))

Job done. Pay = what. Re-hired to City. Abrupt end of job = ???

No longer have to prance about in ratty robe: bonus.

Would return T.'s books, but she is storing all of hers in apt. Must invest in outside storage.

Armour = itchy. Good weight. Missed it?

Being assigned to E.S.'s prev. post

(( Added later, at an odd angle. ))

Post = cow.

W.T.H.

Name: I.S.
Status: Cow-bear-chicken.

A.F.O., gone to fling self off balcony.

(( Glossary:

A.F.O. = Away from Office.
W.T.H. = What the Hell, duh.
E.S. = Erbrynn Sunsteel.
I.S. = Ipolani Smokehoof. ))

Sometimes I wish I could heal wounds.

A man was at the Kodo last night, wounded in battle I suppose, but there were no medics in sight and there was nothing I could do, and it bothers me. He couldn't have been too horribly off as he caught the attention of the odd Tauren woman and that was that. I was quick to return to work.

I chatted with Sara for a short while and then with Grub, and that black-furred Tauren woman approached and asked about the other Tauren woman that he previously dated - Ephe - and otherwise didn't acknowledge my presence (thankfully). I don't particularly like her, not because of her previous relationship to Grub but because she just doesn't seem likeable. Influenced by what he's said about the whole thing, I guess.

He had to leave for unit business - he really didn't want to - and he said that he'd take me somewhere ~ tonight. He doesn't know where, mind, but that's fine. I asked him about that Drakkari stronghold as well, but he's never been.

"I pay well". Where do I come up with these things.

All is otherwise quiet on the home and unit fronts.

I keep watching for him while I'm here. I keep expecting my father to crawl out of the woodwork - the thought of running into him in his condition makes my skin crawl - and I wonder what I would do in such a case. I am not the woman that he expected me to be. I am not the woman that, in his mind, I was supposed to become. For one, I am not married. Two, I have no children. Three, my significant other is a Troll. Four, I'm not an arcanist, I'm a felmage or whatever the nether we're supposed to be called. A warlock. I summon demons and set people on fire.

Although I'm well aware that, when I did see him, it could very well have been a dream, I'm convinced that it's true. I'm convinced that he rose with the rest of these damned men and women, though as what I don't know. Even though he said, in no uncertain terms, that he was not unhappy with me, I can't help but wonder how much truth was inherent in that

I'm waxing philosophical on something that could very well have been a bloody case of me losing my marbles.

I have been browsing the books here, learning a little more on the Shadow and understanding it as Masamba does, or did, or what-have-you and trying to understand the draw. Perhaps it will help me understand Juni's attraction to him as well, though I must admit I haven't seen either in some time. I hope they're both alright.

It's sort of the whole problem with being a soldier: you hardly see your loved ones, and by the time you do so much has happened that you feel so out of touch and never know quite how to react.

( Tuie goes ooon. )

(( No, half the time I really DON'T know what she's going on about. Mental diawhatsis. ))

Vengeance Landing is, well, typical of Forsaken. It's creepy and there are tons - I mean tons - of strange, bubbling cauldrons and containers. This is where I've been assigned, though, so I have to go along with it.

Grub said that they're dealing with the things that were used at the Wrath Gate here. That's a bit worrysome. I don't take off my gloves, I handle everything carefully, and when in doubt, set things on fire. That's been working well so far!

I was going to work on some theories in regard to migration here but I'm not sure what I should be studying, and the other thing I was going to study is really absurd so I won't. Grub was really frustrated with this Kishi girl. I'm sure he means well, but some kids seem to like going against what an adult says because it gets them the attention that they want or feel like they need.

I need to write more! Aaand I'd better get back to work.

I met with Mr. Tunatha last night, took my oath and I'm now a member of the Wolves. I haven't let go of the crystal since it was given to me. This is the real test and I swear I'll be a good soldier!

I got my outfit, now I need to figure out what to make for Grub to eat, like I promised. Better late than never, right?

I have so much work to do.

(( "And my player's a twit. :D" ))

Dear Journal: Grub can be absolutely terrifying when he's angry, though I'm pretty well aware that I have yet to actually see him blow. I'm thankful for that. I think I'm lucky.

Men are infinitely more terrifying than women ever can be when they're angry; I was lucky in that I came from a family of patient, patient men who never once showed signs of temper, but I have seen a Troll's anger before and it is not pretty. I at least know that Grub won't turn it against me, but it's sobering to think that if he ever did --

Adel once remarked that the man could probably crush my skull in his hand.

Grub has had a difficult few days. He's very irritable, very tired, and was very lacking in clothing when I saw him today. I desperately wanted to drag him off and fuss over him but then I'd be turning into one of those girls that's really bloody irritating. Maybe he'd appreciate it, though, being fussed over? I don't know. I should try it and see.

I helped an older man, a Priest of the shadow, who had somehow ended up in Shattrath. He was looking to find some rather rare components for tailoring and I wound up taking him on a tour through Terokkar and into Shadowmoon Valley, where I convinced one of the local tailors to allow the purchase of one of his specialized recipes for our trouble. The priest, Holoki Akaula, was so impressed with my conduct that he made me an outfit. I don't think the man quite realized how scandalous it is.

There really isn't much to it. It's like the green one I have, but it's red, and I think Grub will appreciate it.

I wish I could find a hat to go with it, though.

I need to figure out what to cook for him. If I see him tomorrow, I may treat him sooner rather than later.

I love that man and I'm quite confident that things, for once, are going the right way.



"When are you two getting married?"!? I don't think -- (( Ink splatter ahoy! ))




I'll get into THAT later.

(( From last night! ))

He's going to war.

I was sitting by the pond outside Shattrath, taking a break from my work, when something swooped across the water in front of me. It was Grub on a Skyguard Nether Ray, I think it was. It was good to see him, and

He needed to get the creature from its place of storage in order to use it this evening as part of an attack on the walls of Icecrown. Reading some of these books in the Scryer library has revealed that it is something to do with the Lich King.

(( There's a big black blob here, so whatever was originally written was blotted out. ))

He will come back. He has to, he said he would, I promised him a meal and some rather special treatment for Winter's Veil. He can't die. He can't leave me. And he won't come back as some undead monstrosity he'll be fine.

It's funny, really, when I think about it. I'm about to delve into the same line of work, as a soldier of the Horde, and here I am fretting over Grub like a civilian. I think I know how my mother felt now, and understand, whenever father went to war. But I swear if I turn into her I'm going to

I pray to whatever Gods will listen that my Grub comes back to me, safe and sound.

And now I'm going to go back to working around Nagrand. He's right when he says that, for now, the people here need help, too.

I'm finally finished with Zangarmarsh and am working in Nagrand. My goggles pick up all these little clouds and, when I'm not tossing curses at wildlife and ogres, I'm chasing these clouds about to suck the air out of them with this device I made. Really, I love tinkering. I've been spending far too much time sitting up at night, reading over schematics and trying out new things. I wish I could bring myself to try out a gun - I guess I'll have to settle for making them for Uncle Matojo and, eventually, Grub. Maybe. I don't know if they're his thing, though.

I've been reading more into the shadow.

There are things that you miss when you're concentrating on one thing over another, or when you're studying something that you have to and are, as a result, not paying a nether of a lot of attention. Somethings that I missed when trying to figure out Masamba and his problem. Magic is, inherently, an addictive substance, much like those dusts my people tend toward snorting or alcohol or cigarettes. It does things to people if they aren't paying attention or if they're not bright enough to catch it right away - kind of like him, really.

I can see why Shadow was so attractive to him, though. It's formidable. I deal with it a fair bit on my own, but what he was doing was far more concentrated - no Fel. No demons. Just pure Shadow energy.

It's worth studying, it really is.

I'm curious about what the Blue Dragonflight business is that Grub was talking about, though. I wonder if our scholars have anything on it? The Scryers probably don't bother looking beyond their own Tier - but Silvermoon, maybe there's someone about that's studying this already.

I don't want to leave Nagrand, though. Perhaps I'll have to write some letters later.

... Once I'm done fishing.

Grub was able to get a little bit of time off and met with me in Garadar. It's nice seeing him. He put his hair back into a single braid, and my Gods, he has new armour - he looks great. Formidable. I'm lucky.

I don't know what it is about me and long hair - I like it. I like it a lot and I honestly didn't like when his hair was short.

Falling asleep on him was nice.

Grub gave me a rather odd warning - stay away from the Blue Dragons. They're up to something - stealing mages away? - so ... I'm glad he warned me. I mean, I'm not a mage anymore, but we all draw upon the Arcane in some way or another, so it still counts. I assured him I would stay away. Besides, what Blue Dragon would go all the way into Outland after an elf? That's silly. I'll be fine.

He couldn't look at me 'til I told him to when he was mentioning that, though. Is there more to it?

I have such, such work to be doing in Zangarmarsh still. I can't wait 'til I can get out of there and work somewhere else.

I'm studying curses again because I'm finding them more effective - frighteningly so - and continue to be amazed by how quickly things fall when I apply them just so. I like them a lot. I wouldn't want to be whatever they're cast upon, though, as that would be rather, erm, painful.

Phuu the Felhound has been working quite nicely, he obeys without question.

I'm still tapping out of habit, and I imagine next time Grub and I are together he'll get the full force of that (not that he's ever complained). The need isn't there anymore, but I can't help but do it anyway - it's satisfying. It still feels good.

I've been working tirelessly all bloody week and have managed to craft myself a wonderful pair of goggles. Mack Diver taught me the schematic and seemed quite impressed when I approached him while wearing them - he's my trainer, an odd Troll that can make all sorts of things that even I never would have thought of.

I haven't heard anything from anyone, really, but most that I know are off in Northrend. Grub did write, it seems that he's doing well and I'm very, very relieved that he hasn't been eaten by Scourge.



I can't wait to feel his arms around me again~



Looking back at that it seems rather silly!

More damned Scourge! This time it's bloody dragons and abominations and and

I'm going to set them all on fire.