Dear Diary

Silverwright's Ledger

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[This spiral-bound paper ledger is thick with paper of heavy card stock that is printed with a grid pattern. The cover is smudged with stray marks from grease pencils and ink pens.]

12 January

  • Delvar Ironfist is a wild thing. He reminds me of the Thane's brother. I'm glad we're on the same side.
  • There were skeletons walking on an island in south Shadowmoon. I hope to get the Servitors to investigate.
  • I have my suspicions that Sam's blood was taken for a specific reason. The Dayberie farmers may know something.
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13 January

  • Didn't know Mora worked at Wildhammer Keep. Didn't think to ask where Nora was, but I assume she's still at the cathedral.
  • Capture and "interrogation" of Forsaken general in Nagrand was nearly a disaster. Perhaps actually is. Lucky I didn't act too rashly.
  • Too much reminiscing before bed. Took a shot (two shots) of gin to help me fall asleep.

1/2 gallon dandelion blossoms
juice & peels of 2 oranges
juice & peel of 1/2 lemon
1 inch piece ginger root
1-1/2 pound raw sugar
1/2 ounce yeast

Pour 1/2 gallon boiling water over dandelion petals in crock
Steep for 3 days
Strain & squeeze liquid into pot
Add orange, lemon, ginger, sugar
Slow boil 20 minutes
Cool, add yeast, move to fermenting crock
Ferment 3(?) weeks
move to bottles for at least 3 months

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16 January

  • Operation in Nagrand was postponed. Instead, drinks (and pie!) were had. Bromm and a new dwarvish lightbringer to our unit, Shrel, made appearances. Kind of hate that I'm more comfortable with dwarfs than other humans.
  • Must remind myself to be more patient with Gilneans in general. It must be a cultural thing, and being so isolated. Hardly a one is down-to-earth in any sense, and the curse is no help.
  • My training with sword and other blade techniques is going painfully slowly. I just don't have enough time -- my work in the field largely requires my staff, and I'm not proficient enough otherwise to go on patrol with daggers.

 1-1/2 cups corn meal
1 cup Arathi sourdough starter
1 egg
1 cup Barak Tor'ol buttermilk
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp ground pepper
1 tsp clover honey
2 tbsp cup bacon grease
Lard

Mix cornmeal and sourdough and let stand a half day
Beat egg and mix into remaining ingredients
Add egg mixture to dough
Melt 3 inches of lard in heavy pan
Drop dough by spoonful into fat, cook for about 3 minutes

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  • Rats.
  • Rats.
  • Rats.
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24 January

  • I don't know who the Iron Knuckles are, but they know us. We have a few injuries from our meeting, myself included. At least I'm left-handed.
  • I have to stop holding back. I could have been a bigger help if I'd just accept that I'm a fel spellcaster.
  • Must take some time to let my shoulder heal.
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22 February

 

  • Apparently, these black needles are not new, but they are bad news. I've seen worse, but not by much.
  • There's a woman in our unit that I could swear, could put money on, is a lightbringer, but she denies it.
  • I sat with Mena, now Lady Marshal Asteris, at dinner last night. It was_ as if I was just gone for a weekend and she had never left either.

 

Huh.

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[This page's script is uneven and smudged in several places, as if written during an earthquake or while riding a mount in less than ideal conditions.]

11 April

  • Weather station has been running for few weeks now. Pleased with the results so far -- turned out to be quite accurate.
  • Major concerns re: COMM interference, esp. after action in Redridge. Cdr -- outwardly, at least -- seems set in belief that it's a malfunction. I feel certain that this is intentional; also certain that Cdr suspects this privately.
  • Sandy's finds in Shadowmoon finally bear fruit. Mean to show her soon.
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19 April

  • Too stubborn for my own good. Arrived in the Outlands in plenty of time to make the rendezvous point but my new project -- this staff -- reacted badly to the Outlands environment. It wasn't detrimental and I should have left it and went on, but I couldn't leave well enough alone. Reprimanded. Just finished my first shift with the bakers for morning mess.
  • He was right: they are more hardassed than he is. These bakers run like a machine. On the upside, I may just learn something here.
  • Uther's kittens are in a tank. Once their eyes are open, I might try to move the litter somewhere more convenient.
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12 May

I think my ability to trust someone is inversely proportional to how trustworthy they seem. M is essentially a masked enigma and (literally) frighteningly intelligent, and yet I've dropped my guard immediately. I still can't say the same for Sandy or Roiya or even Etharion.

One of these days it's going to bite me in the ass.

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13 May

I didn't get to the farm until after midnight. Da was still awake, but we didn't talk much_ We never did, truth told. We have an understanding that's been apparent these past three and a half decades. I owe him everything, so I'm not sure where I'd start if I ever opened up. Ma says he's always been quiet anyway. That doesn't stop him from being the kindest man I know.

Nia'ala. Oh, Nia'ala. She never made it into a bed last night. Fell asleep on a pile of blankets with a wool carder still in one hand. At breakfast, Ma said that Nia had wanted to learn how to do everything on the farm, so they started with that, with the season's first shearing. She also said that Nia was a much better behaved little girl than I was at that age, which, I noticed, elicited a flush from my little girl.

My little girl. Yes. M is right. I have to slow down. I have to remember my worth. I have to work harder to tell truth from the pull of the Nether. Light help me, but I'm trying.

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3 June

I feel, in a way, that I've taken this Avoriana girl under my wing. I cannot imagine she feels the same, nor do I think she needs my help. I just feel protective somehow. Maybe it's the Sigarni I see in her. Maybe I simply remember where I was at her age.

Truth to tell, I'm glad to have these kinds of thoughts. I have a wall -- it's very thin and very close to my person, but it's there -- that needs breaking down a bit, especially if I plan to bring Nia'ala up right. She's going to be around a lot longer than I am. In any case, I have to trust. It's difficult, to put it mildly. I can count the ones I trust on one hand, and many of them are not exactly present. Thinking about it, there's only one, perhaps two, active in the Servitors right now.

Of course, my parameters for unwavering trust differ from the norm, I'm sure.

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<A copy of an official document has been inserted between the pages.>

 

 

 

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6 August

One wonders about the company I keep_

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WELL.

<This is underlined several times. The final line drifts off and to the edge of the page.>

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10 March

It's a sobering experience to write out a will. I never had before, despite the extent of what is awkwardly called my estate. Etharion encouraged us to do so, given the warnings of another Legion invasion. A larger one, I expect, and more directed than I saw in my limited time in Tanaan. I thought it would be a simple thing: write out that I wanted my money and holdings taken care of, preferably by Noradrid, and it would all be copacetic. It gave me pause, however. Nia'ala is such a small thing, as I've written before, and my time with her, in the scheme of supposed draenei immortality, is going to be considerably shorter than I expect draenei parents spend rearing their own children. She is a bright girl, though, and wise and independent beyond her few years, thanks to the circumstances in Shattrath.

I'm glad, regardless, that my family is a long-lived one. Falgrin and Harthur are near eighty, and Noradrid and Moradrid are over sixty -- the lot of them are still spring chickens so far as dwarves are concerned. Da is working on two hundred years himself. In that sense I feel reasonably assured my daughter will be looked after. My best bet is another fifty years if I'm lucky. At that point I would be quite the old lady.

Were it not for these obligations, my plans for the coming invasion are not what they would have been a year or two ago. I have the means, and I am certain the ability to create a sizable dent in the Legion. It would mean, however, giving myself completely to the void, completely to the fel, and making a spectacle that I would not walk away from. It would be done and I will have made a difference. I'm sure of that. I don't write that out of pride or hubris: I mean simply that I have spent decades learning to better control these energies than the Legion itself.

As it stands, I'm bringing By Fire and Blood to Azeroth from Draenor. At worst, my letter of marque and reprisal will be valid in local waters as well. At best, she, with the Servitors, will be sailing to meet the Legion's advance.

Temper your excitement, girl. You've come too far to give in to the rush now. 

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