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#12723384 Sep 20, 2016 at 12:39 PM · Edited 5 years ago
Officer
79 Posts
Sept. 20, 36 L.C.


Here I am, Journal. I did not forget about you. It feels like an eternity since I put quill to paper within the confines of your leather bindings. So much has gone on since my last entry. The Burning Legion once more invades our world, seeking it's destruction. The incidents in Mirwood and Stone Cairne were just preludes to what was to come. The Dreadlord Maulohr struck twice more in Mirwood, having resolved to punish us for our earlier interference, but eventually was defeated by Regimental forces. Who's to know if we will see him again, a demon's vengence can last generations and their patience is without end.

The Legion power base on our world is a place called the Broken Isles. The center of the world and once the center of Elven civilization as I am told. There was an initial assault on these Isles to push back the demons. King Varian Wrynn led the assault, and their lines were nearly broken, but ultimately the demons rallied and surged forth. Stories tell of the King's heroic sacrifice so that hundreds more could retreat to safety. His son, Prince Anduin, is now King.

I have re-enlisted in the Army. It has been two years since I was afflicted by the Botani Plague and have not had any signs of succumbing to its mutations for over a year. The Lord Marshal gladly welcomed me back to the ranks, though in honesty, it's not like I ever really left. Regardless, he granted me the rank of Private while assuring me that he's confident I would earn a promotion to Corporal in time, given my history. This will be the third time I ascend the ranks from the bottom. Once to Knight-Lt. and the second time to Sergeant before I was infected.

Cait has passed all the Rites and thus earned her place as a Ranger of Mirwood, not only that but she has also been promoted to Corporal and busies herself writing tomes to train future Ranger-Apprentices. My former apprentice now outranks me, the paradox is not lost on either of us.

Due to the invasion and thanks to the same Recruitment Drive in which I re-enlisted, we have a seen an influx of recruits, some of which are ranged; Archers, Scouts, perhaps some aspiring Rangers-to-be. I have no doubt that, as the ranking soldier, Cait will be given the task of training them. I am beginning to feel like the old bull, being slowly put to pasture.

Of the new Recruits, two stand out in my mind. A Roanne Venmenn, our new Quartermaster. A very pleasant woman, down to earth and moderately familiar with the wooded life, hunting, cleaning kills, etc. She grew up in the Black Wald of Gilneas, a place I admit I would like to visit at some point. Though Cait and I jokingly mentioned her possibly being a Ranger, she politely declined. I am of the thought that she would prefer the relatively safer life of staying behind the front lines, doing what she can to make sure we can do our jobs. But, as I've seen first hand, she is quite capable of defending herself if pressed.

The other, a new Scout, Gwen Brooks. An odd one for sure. Very skilled at Archery, she even showed me up during our last battle, to the point of saving my ass when I slipped and nearly tumbled off the top gate into a swarm of abominations below. She has a habit of making theater references when in the field, alluding to some stagename she will not reveal as she's already been told she is not to use the mysterious moniker. I guess they're right, the world is a stage, and we are all merely players on it.

I look forward to seeing our newcomers come to their own.

Meanwhile, we hold here in a place called Stormheim, homeland to the Vrykul it would seem. Hopefully, they are more apt to be on friendly terms compared to their brethren in Northrend. We shall see.

"...My life has been one prolonged hunt."

BTag - Reigns8762#1110
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#12745288 Sep 28, 2016 at 05:14 PM
Officer
79 Posts
Sept. 28, 36 L.C.


Great Odyn's fiery red beard! We held audience with Odyn himself in the Halls of Valor! Our new Vrykul allies, the Valarjar, presented us with the chance to aid them in ridding the Halls of Valor of their brethren who have given themselves over to the taint of Fel and thus been found unworthy of residing within the Halls henceforth.

As a youngster I was awed by Dwarven tales of Titans, Watchers, and the order they sought to bring to this fledgling world. And I was further fascinated many years ago in Northrend when I started to hear about the Vrykul and theories that we humans descended from these beings of Titan origins, but was simutaneously saddened to see their corrupted, fallen state of being in those frozen wasteland.

But to be granted to the chance to prove ourselves by their standards, and succeed, makes me beam with pride. Fighting beside them was a great honor. We were challenged with Trial by Combat by several Champions within the Halls, one of which was a newly "Ascended" Val'kyr. I believe it was Sister Caernough who made comments asking if the Halls were "heaven" and the Val'kyr were "angels". I believe she may be right, the Val'kyr certainly fit the typical description. And if the Halls are heaven, then I found my place within it, The Field of Eternal Hunt.

After having sorted out a few rowdy Vrykul in the Hall of Glory, a large Mead Hall, we passed through some portal we came upon a wooded area brimming with wildlife. Deer, bear, wolf, you name it. We joined some of the Vrykul Trackers on the hunt for a Great Wolf named Fenryr and an Ettin who was poaching. But the landscape was gorgeous. A ever-present bright sunny day with clear blue skies, but a crisp autumn air to keep the heat at bay, intermitent glades through out the wooded area to allow for multiple hunting techniques. I would love to return someday.

In the end, we bested all of their Champions and ousted the Fel-tainted, so-called "God-King" Skovald, earning us Odyn's favor, but more than that he challenged us to a friendly spar for fun, which we barely won. Though I'm certain he was pulling punches and called it early before he even broke a sweat... Can they sweat? Either way, he congratulated us on a good fight and gifted us with some items from his armory. We returned to Greywatch as honored champions and were dismissed for the night.

"...My life has been one prolonged hunt."

BTag - Reigns8762#1110
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#12948582 Dec 28, 2016 at 02:50 AM
Officer
79 Posts
28 Dec. 36 L.C.


It has been several months since we campaigned on the Broken Isles. Our primary objective was hindered by the Dominion of the Sun. Their leader harbors an unquenchable hatred for the Regiment and the Lord Marshal. They seized upon an opportunity to foil our plans and were successful. The remainder of our time on the Isles was relegated to battling for territory.

Since our return, I've been in a bit of a malaise. Winter is upon us and the world tucks itself snugly under a blanket of snow to sleep. The beasts of the Wilds settle in for hibernation. And I too feel the call. Yet another lingering side effect I suppose. Often I have wandered off into the woods to seek respite, to meditate on the world around me and on at least a couple occasions, a fellow Ranger has checked to make sure I had not died. One such occasion, the Ranger said I was motionless for a full day, predator and prey walking past me as if I weren't even there.

Cait hosted a Winterveil Party today with a Secret Greatfather element to it. It was good getting to socialize with my comrades, my friends, again. The receiver of my gift seemed to greatly enjoy what I had gifted them. And although I did not receive my gift, I felt the joy of watching others unwrap theirs. But, there was also a Gift Lotto in which our names were drawn from a hat and the winners got to choose a gift from a selection. My name was drawn first and the box I chose had an exquisite looking glass vial, almost vase like, of the purest white sand I've ever seen. So much so that it puts off a faint glow, even in the dimmest of lights.

Mother Muriah was next and she received an enchanted ink quill, one that will write what she dictates to it. Always mirthful, she named it Pal. Capt. Laldere was the third and final name drawn. He received some sort of jewelcrafting game which he seemed to enjoy.

Afterward there was some hot cocoa to be had and a few of the others took to sledding. But the night drew late and everyone left, one by one. It was a fun night.

"...My life has been one prolonged hunt."

BTag - Reigns8762#1110
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#13065865 Feb 15, 2017 at 12:38 AM
Officer
79 Posts
14 Feb. 37 L.C.


Recently, I remembered some words spoken by a bard some years back. They strike a unnerving chord in light of recent events and today's holiday.

The power of Love is a curious thing. Make a one man weep, make another man sing. Change a hawk to a little white dove. More than a feeling, that's the power of Love.

Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream, stronger and harder than a bad girls' dream. Make a bad one good, make a wrong one right. Power of Love that keeps you home at night.

You don't need money, don't take fame, don't need no credit chit to ride this tram. It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes. But it just might save your life. That's the power of Love.


Since Shana's death five years ago, every day is painful with regular reminders of her and then of her absence. Today is doubly so due to the holiday. But no more than two days ago, our love likely saved not only my life but perhaps those of my fellow soldiers.

Following up on a prior murloc incident, Corporal Sebale led a patrol into Southern Elwynn where we chanced upon a farmstead overrun by murlocs. The farmhands were present but most had multiple arrows sticking out of them and seemed to be enchanted. They were mindlessly tending to two lounging females. The murlocs were unhindered in their devouring livestock and at least one of the farmhands was unfortunate enough to eaten as well.

When we were spotted, a battle commenced with the murlocs swarming us but they were dispatched relatively easily. The two women set upon us then, one firing a barrage of enchanted arrows at us. Most of the patrol, myself included, were hit by the arrows. A love spell put those of us hit into a daze. It was a dream-like state where I knew nothing but joy. My wants and needs were sated before I even knew what they were, a throng of handmaidens lavished their affections on me.

But my hearstrings made a discordant sound when plucked. The deepest recesses of my mind reeled from the perfection. The love I have for my wife made cracks in the illusion, eventually breaking my free from the stupor. The joy I felt faded with the dream, harshly replaced with the loss of my spouse. Pure rage shot to the surface like a geyser. My burning hatred fixated on the woman wielding the bow. Six arrows I shot into her chest, along with a few arrows from Ranger Rolfe. It was then that the women's true identities were revealed: Succubi, likely staying low since the invasions ended. The holiday is what likely drew them out, too much for them to resist the temptation.

Upon slaying both succubi, the enchanted farmhands collapsed in death, either from the arrows themselves or perhaps having wasted away due to starvation/dehydration. We'll never know for their corrupted bodies, and those of the succubi, burst into fel-flames leaving only ashen remains. Love truly is a curious thing.

We deploy tomorrow for the Broken Isles again. I still have much to prepare and pack.




"...My life has been one prolonged hunt."

BTag - Reigns8762#1110
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#13103966 Mar 03, 2017 at 12:07 PM
Officer
79 Posts
03 March, 32 L.C.


Noble. To some, this word describes a characteristic, a defining trait. For others, this word means a station in life, to be raised up above the common man often by nothing more than to whom you were born, but at times it is through merit of one's own actions. As of two weeks ago, I find myself with both.

Duke Montclair honored me by bestowing the title of Baron upon me. I have been tasked with revitalizing a area of land long abandoned some fifty years, ever since the Sarceline Incident. The area is called Heartsgrove, and I'm fairly familiar with it as Rangers make regular patrol of that area. It is an unhealthy land, the ground is hard void of all but the most rugged of plant life. The whole of the barony is a dense forest, however, the trees seem frozen in an eternal state of winter hibernation. Leafless, to the last, their limbs and bark is thick and gnarled, the only thing growing on them being patches of thorns, some thick and long enough to cause serious harm if impaled upon them. The wind howls incessantly through the forests, a mournful cry imitating the forest's current state. And though the sun may shine, no warmth is felt by it's embrace. A dreadful, foreboding feeling permeates everything here.

What wildlife roams these woods is twisted to reflect it's environment. Even the most typically docile of creatures have aggressive mannerisms. Packs of wolves and sleuths of bears roam about, their Alphas seemingly larger than normal. Their hides are thick and unkempt. The Rangers frequently cull the numbers to keep population sizes in check. One might wonder why not just wipe them all out, but even in this maligned land there is a delicate balance that we must maintain.

There are two former towns along the border that have fallen into decay with lack of maintenance and care. Piscator's Rest was once a fishing village and frequented ferry port on Mirror Lake. Its location was convenient to those traveling between Elwynn Forest and Oakenvale or Rivenland. The other town, Caistor had a thriving goldsmithing industry as well as a monastic Scriptorium that provided Illumination services for the church. Caistor is along the northern border before entering Elwynn.

One spark of life in the desolation exists, that's the tree known as the Heart of the Grove, the namesake of my barony. A single tree, mysteriously untouched by whatever ails these forests. Though its bark is gnarled and thick like the rest, it produces leaves. Odd however is that this is year round. An oaken evergreen of sorts. More curious is that no animals flock to this tree like an oasis in the desert, in fact all manners of creatures shy away from this tree and its general vacinity.

While some might see my appointment to this "broken" land as a dishonor, I see the opposite. His Grace sees a troubled land, a challenge unmet for some five decades, and he has faith that I can succeed where others have not. I will not fail him or this land.

Upon our return from Suramar in the Broken Isles, I must busy myself with introductions to the Mirwood noble court, a letter of introduction directly to Baroness Lyon of Sarcelfen, personally patrol Heartsgrove, and arrange preparations to begin settling and studying the land. I feel Piscator's Rest will make a fine starting point, readily available food source, ferry port for supplies, etc.

Nature be my guide and grant me wisdom and patience in this monumental task.

"...My life has been one prolonged hunt."

BTag - Reigns8762#1110
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