Dear Diary

The Terrible Tales of a Tiny Terror vol. 2

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This year, M brought two flowers.

It was, as ever, quiet in the abandoned cemetery in the early hours of the morning when she arrived. Dew clung to the long grass, soaking her legs up to the knee as she followed the mostly overgrown path off the road. It had been many months since she'd last visited it, a longer delay than she'd planned. Argus had kept her from her primary annual visit a month prior, but this date was fitting as well.

In the human graveyard just past Darkshire, two headstones stood out. Both were made of metal, each with different wire letters welded to their arched frames: R and M. A recent storm had stripped much of the overgrown weeds away from both, but M still took time to clear the leaves and grasses from the graves. It was deliberately slow work. Every move she made held a weight of purpose to it, unusual even for her. This was less a chore and more a ritual. Once the graves were clear of overgrowth, a yellow rose was set against each headstone.

"Apologies," she said softly. Her gloved fingertips brushed the small hanging plaque that dangled from the grave of 'R' as she echoed the words there. "I promise."

In that odd position, just barely touching the grave, M lingered for a few moments. With her forefinger, she slowly traced the words on the plaque over and over, four times in total. After the fourth, her hand wavered and she lowered her arm. Her helmet turned slightly towards the other grave. It was her own, and for the first time in three years, it held her corpse. After a moment of silent regard, she rose, stepping back so she was between both graves at their feet. There she stilled in silent vigil, head bowed slightly and hands clasped.

There, as with every year before, she would stand until the next dawn came. 

 
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<There is a brief pause at the start of the recording, accompanied by the sound of rustling fabric.>

November twenty-eighth, nearly midnight. I am in the storage room of the guard bunker. 

It has been some time since I felt it necessary to make a recording. I have been busy gathering materials for the ring's alterations. It will be soon, I think. Fortunately, I have had little need of healing in the past few weeks. 

Presently, though, I am pulling all black tabards out of storage. I was unfortunately not present for it, but we lost a Soldier earlier during the Antorus assault. I am uncertain if Broom is aware yet. I only am due to Jo having led the mission. 

<A pause.>

I was unacquainted with her, so I am personally unaffected. The unit as a whole, though, will be. I am not proficient in handling these things and will likely not attempt to. They can handle their... mm, emotional distresses among themselves. 

Either Jo or Broom will be left to contact her family. I do not envy this situation. However, I would be worse at it and will not offer to assist there. It would be a baseless offer. 

Mm. Still, the mission was successful. There is that, at least.

I must send these tabards to all non-Aerie Peak dwelling Servitors, so for now, that is all.

<A click.>

 

<Silence.>

 
0

"You are ready."

His apprentice met his gaze evenly; he did not even see surprise flicker across her neutral stare. She simply nodded, once, and stepped precisely closer.

"Understood," M intoned. "What is required?"

Olu held out his hand.

-

Darkness. The inky black was all encompassing and quiet, for now. That would change. Olu pressed his palm against nothingness and extended, searching their pocket of void for a presence fitting enough. It did not take long. A voidwraith had drifted close, too close, and he struck. Soundlessly, it was dragged by force until it stood between the krokul and the gnome, floating in the abyss. 

"Strike," Olu commanded. 

M struck in a fury of blades, rending the Void being's barely corporeal form. It would reform, if given time, but Olu did not intend to give it enough. As its outer darkness peeled away, its core - its heart - was exposed. That would be their prize. Her prize.

"Claim it. Force it to bend. You must prove yourself stronger." Olu drifted in the abyss, reaching M's side. "They will whisper. Do not listen."

A thread of shadow, first small but rapidly growing, trailed from the heart of the voidwraith towards her. She staggered, faltered, then threw her arms wide. The stream of darkness slammed straight into her chest.

-

"How do you feel?"

It was safer, Olu had learned, to recover out of the Void. Such a release of power would draw attention, attention that they could not face just yet. Not while the after effects still lingered. Still, he'd seen worse attempts at embodying and harnessing Void. Some had not survived the encounter; others were left without minds. 

"...functional," came M's reply after a pause he guessed was thought. "I feel it. It is familiar but new."

"Yes," he agreed, tucking his tail by his leg as he sat near her. "Is a large change for your body. Less for your mind. You know this magic. It knows you, too. Not your body, so it will have to learn. Your studies will help. It may take less to learn, this time."

M nodded. Olu could see faint wisps of shadow trailing off of her when she moved; the energies were not fully absorbed, not yet, but they would be in time. Sooner rather than later, he thought; the presence of necromancy seemed to welcome Void. 

"You stay here tonight. I must watch you, make sure you recover properly." Olu paused. There was no argument, only another nod. "Good. Come. Have books for you."

They were ancient tomes, some of which he'd written himself; the final building blocks for a steady future. After that, he would be finished. She would be sent home and he could retire again to the quiet of Mac'Aree. The Light's judgment would not find him, the Legion would be scattered, and he would be left alone to his studies for another few millennia. 

 
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She couldn't wipe the blood off her hands. Every time she tried, the red smears remained stubbornly in place across her dark gloves. Her blood. Her blood. The woods smelled of damp, rotting leaves and wet grass. Nearby, soft ripples lapped at the small lake's shore, and beyond that, the small waterfall rumbled. It was otherwise quiet. Their fight had been quiet, too, until she'd begged...

...M's back hit a stone wall instead of a tree trunk. The jarring relocation made her mind ache from the strain. There were no woods, no darkened sky, but instead the glaring lights of lamps and her office's stone ceiling. Her hands were dry. She felt the weakness from the battle rush back to her and she sat heavily in her desk chair. To keep her hands from shaking, she passed a vial of red liquid between them, her eyes tracking the steady, methodical movement.

It was a waiting game with time M hated to spare. Little was worse than waiting for the recovery of a person who's wounds were of M's own deliberate choosing. She'd been forced to escalate beyond anything she'd felt comfortable with. When the choice was between her wife and the mission's survival, she now knew which way she would fall. It didn't surprise her; the ability to make cold, hard choices was something she prided herself in having. This time, Jo lived. She would recover from the drugging and the bruises would fade. What troubled M most was what might happen next time. 

Her fingers tightened around the vial. She knew it would haunt her for weeks, until she could manage to force those memories down to remain suppressed with the rest, how it looked to watch Jo turn so quickly. It didn't feel like anything - she felt no remembered fear at those memories - but the images replayed again and again. How it looked to wrap her hands around Jo's throat, how it looked when she collapsed, and how it looked in the aftermath of it all. Some connections were all too easily made.

M wiped her hands, picking at nonexistent specks on her palms. In the lamplight, the dark green leather almost held a red tinge.

 
0

<The sound of rotary blades in the background is constant throughout, sometimes drowned out by rushing wind.>

January eighteenth, just past midnight. I am... damaged. I have yet to see to those damages so I can provide no estimate on their scale. I am currently flying south from the Barrens towards Silithus. 

<A pause.>

I did not anticipate our survival when the sword came down. To be frank, the moment I saw him, I did not. I do not think our survival was intended, either. It may be temporary. That sword was very large but only a very relatively small part of it remains on the surface. Most of it has entered the planet. Having been stabbed with a sword in the past, I am aware of the damage it causes. Will it cause that damage to a Titan? Can they bleed out?

Personally, I do not wish to find these things out via experience, but it appears we may yet.

<A quiet sigh.>

Fort Triumph scouts reported in the emergency meeting there that Horde goblins were being sent south in droves. They were not sharing why. I will find out. Well. Lyyn will find out and I will find out from her, I am sure. 

Command is certain Alliance races will converge on Silithus to offer assistance, so we are being used in a less direct manner. Namely that is for supply and scouting, both of which I find acceptable. We have been fighting a long war. Unfortunately, we have no real chance to have a small break after its end, given the manner in which it happened, but a distance, even small, from the front lines will be beneficial. Especially for those of us who witnessed the end first hand. 

I myself am...adjusted. The others, who have emotional reactions to large events, may not be yet. I believe the term is being 'in shock.' Many of them seemed to be. 

<Another, longer, pause.>

...the end of the world. Mm. 

I wonder what remains of Ahn'Qiraj or the Hammer. 

Mm.

At the earliest convenience, I believe a trip north is in order. It may have provided warnings of the future in hard to parse phrases but at least it gave some warning. I... if it is world's end, I could use these warnings.

But. Ahn'Qiraj will be my primary flyover destination upon reaching Silithus, which is not far. I am passing over Un'Goro at the moment. Despite the cloud cover due to a jungle environment, I can still see the sword. Frankly, I preferred Argus over it and that red star. 

...is that where Sargeras was pulled to? It is too close for comfort if so.

<Quietly whispered:>

A real Titan. In person.

Fascinating.

<A click.>

 

<Silence.>

 
0

<A very long period of open radio silence begins this recording.>

Today has been... trying. 

But, first. It is roughly ten in the evening on the 2nd of February. I am in my office. I am... debatably functional.

Shrub somehow brought a saronite pendant into the blanket fort. It began to spread its influence almost immediately, from what I can tell. We faced a void terror, or a representation of one. She called it... what was it. Immol'thar? The name strikes no bells, but perhaps it is an elven thing. 

What was worse was the whispers. 

I must speak with Teenan, tomorrow if possible, or after the unit meeting at the latest. She went for Seda verbally and I imagine it would have escalated to physical violence towards Seda and myself, potentially, if it had continued. I believe she has an issue with the undead. This must be rectified. 

I imagine none of the others were spared mentally, either. I myself heard...much.

I heard that killing Jo is an eventuality, not a what if. That she will someday fall to the fel's corruption and I will be forced to end her to protect the children. A mercy killing. A dagger to the chest. I heard that this was still the Tower. That I had never left. I heard that I would turn to the Void and kill them, all of them. That they would betray me because of my past and I would be left alone. That my actions are already influenced and I am unaware of it. That, again, I will not know until it is far too late to salvage what is left. 

...some of these are likely true. Some are not. I am still processing.

Frankly, I would be unsurprised if I would be required to kill her, in the end. It would not be the first time. I do not wish to face this future, and I would hope she has better control of it than that, but it could happen. That is an event that is factually, logically possible. Fel is corrupting. I am aware of this. I have seen warlocks lost to its power before. And if I had to, I would do it. I would want it to be me and no one else. 

It is a burden I already have borne once. I could do it again. She could kill me first, but I would try.

<A quiet sigh.>

Seda did not appear...right, afterwards. I wonder what she heard. I wished to locate her after Shrub departed but I could not. Perhaps she has left the keep entirely. Perhaps due to Teenan. She should not have to. She is not a threat or a concern. Well, no. I am concerned for her, but not for negative reasons. I trust her entirely. She would not harm anyone in the unit. At least not while...mm. In her right mind. 

...we did fight, that once, but. It was under...extreme circumstances and was understandable. I do not expect any repeats. I would be quite concerned if there was one.

<A pause. The sound of a drawer opening.>

I kept the pendant. I should destroy...

I should...

<Another pause.>

What if this is the sign I was looking for? I wished to hear Their words on the uncertainty of the times. They provided wisdom in the past, although then I did not listen. They foretold much of what happened in those days. Perhaps now that I am more open minded, I could hear that wisdom again. Perhaps I could reconnect... 

No, there is no one left from those days. I would have nothing to return to. 

Mm.

...I will keep it, for now. If it becomes troublesome, I will hide it further away. I do not wish for this to fall into the hands of the less prepared. Keeping it in my possession, even if it is locked in a vault, would be best. I can bear its influence more than most, given my past, and I am aware of what to watch for. It will be fine. I will just keep it here.

No one needs to know of this. No one will. It will be my secret alone. It is best this way.

<A click.>

 

<Silence.>

 
0

<M sounds even dryer than usual, somehow.>

It is Saturday, February 10th. I am in my office for the moment, although I will be departing for home shortly. I am...theoretically functional. 

The mission last night went poorly. It was decent until the fel mech dropped on us from the ceiling and then it went downhill at a steady pace. My legs have been damaged, likely beyond permanent repair. This is unfortunate. I presently have wood splints on both. The left is not as badly damaged, but I believe it is also broken. The right is without a doubt. I can see the bone jutted up against my flesh, although it has not broken through yet. Relatedly, I believe I will be seeking out Tally. She has leg issues. Perhaps she could offer some assistance in stability and movement, temporary or otherwise. To be frank, I have been considering simply drilling a bolt through but that may be...overly rash.

But, to continue on the mission, after we dispatched the eredar piloting the machine, we realized it was not Z's father. It was, in fact, a woman. Jo recovered a tome that will need translation but, regardless, the conclusion was strongly that he was not present. The room was empty. I saw no one. So, we departed. It appears as though something or someone, likely someone, destroyed our portal the moment all of us had entered it. I recall feeling pulled and then I was in front of the Black Temple in the worse Shadowmoon Valley. Others arrived in the Kingdoms and Kalimdor. There appears to be no pattern to our arrival destinations. Fortunately, nearly everyone checked in over the COMMs almost immediately.

...unfortunately, Lammy did not and has not since. Her COMM is untraceable. Jo is attempting to obtain a signal in the nether, but if that fails... I am uncertain what my options are. We may have to attempt to scry for her, but that is not Zuriah's area of expertise and I doubt it is Knutcrank's either. We did obtain a new Pandaren mage. Perhaps she is capable. If not, our options are more limited. I do not wish to wait for her arrival, if she returns, but if we have no other choice... 

Mm. It is a negative situation, all in all.

<A brief pause.>

There has been another situation, although I am uncertain if it is negative or not. I am still undecided. Another ren'dorei arrived shortly after our two latest hires did. Ashriel. It took a moment to recognize her. It has been some time, nearly six years. Her voice, though, is the same. Fortunately, I met her while masked and hooded, so if there was any facial reaction, she was unaware of it. Vocally, of course, I give away nothing. It is convenient. 

...it was pleasant, to be frank. I had assumed her deceased, as I do with most of my...mm. Former associates. We have spoken twice, now, and at length on varied topics. None of course that tie back to our old...line of work, but that is to be expected. That is not a conversational topic to be brought up lightly and between casual acquaintances. I am uncertain if I should bring it up at all. On one hand, it would open me up to blackmail should she desire it. On the other, she never struck me as the type predisposed to doing so. I would, in her shoes, but I am uncertain if she would.

She remains a healer. She assisted with the bite on my shoulder from the pillow fort, although she could not with my legs. She did assist with a splint. Little has changed, at least in personality, on her end. I am...another story. That, I believe, is my strongest reason to not inform her of a former name. I am not who I was then. Not at present. If I thawed, I would return in a few weeks' time, somewhat. But then, I was... how to phrase. I had not undergone some of the worst and harshest of my experiences. The Gorge and Shadowforge, yes. The Tower, the box, and the gnome, no. 

...I was also a priest. It was many lifetimes ago, now. 

It was pleasant to hear her music, regardless of all the attached concerns to her presence. She completed that composition, it seems. I recall that hearing it the first time brought comfort.

<A faint sigh.>

She has submitted an application. I will rig the question. If she is here for a second, third, or fourth chance, it does not matter. Between us, I am the greater threat. And, besides, she would likely lie anyway.

It is decided. Perhaps on the tour, I may stop in my office for a...reunion. If she attempts the blackmail route, I could threaten it in return. A faction exile's word against a unit commander's. I have the position of power here.

For now, though, that is all.

<A click.>

 

<Silence.>

 
0

<A long silence.>

Today is February 28th in the early morning. I am in my office. I am...repairing damages. 

I anticipate the mission tonight will go poorly. The abilities of qiraji prophets were legendary in Silithus. Although, I am not negatively anticipating witnessing their power, to be frank. It was an opportunity I missed by several years last time. I never anticipated having this chance. It is...not unpleasant, despite what I am sure will be negative consequences once the fight begins. This unit is not adept at resisting mind breakers. I have already accepted the fact that I will be used, should it try me. I am...interested in what may occur. It is also not unpleasant to be returning to Ahn'Qiraj. In some sense, it could be considered a pilgrimage. 

<A pause.>

This week since its beginning has been...difficult, though. Sunday was largely unpleasant. I was aware of what the act might...mm, reawaken, but had hoped to potentially avoid it. I was unable to. It was overly similar and I was incapable of pulling my thoughts away from the comparisons. When the infernal awakened, I was resigned to accepting damages and they occurred worse than anticipated. It is difficult, fighting large flaming rocks. My weaponry is designed to be most efficient against flesh. Stone is different. 

There was something odd, though. I used the dagger's shadows and they reacted differently than what I am accustomed to. There was a gap between the infernal's fist and myself, which likely saved my ribs from further damages. The rocket blast in Ahn'Qiraj did enough as it is. But I am...confused. No, that is incorrect. It was unreality. I have never witnessed such an event before and I have no explanations. It has not happened again. Although, to note, I have not gone seeking an engagement with another infernal since, so I have not necessarily tested this thoroughly. Still, I do not understand. What happened was...unreal. I burned holes in the rocks with my blades, but they were my normal daggers and have hit infernals before. It has never occurred like this before. Therefore it cannot be real. What I saw cannot be what happened. 

I will not trouble Jo with this, she is already undergoing enough. I did not hold back with that dagger, which...to be frank, is what has caused some of my own...issues at this time. On the other hand, I did not wish to create an issue with the process. If it worked, it will be worth it. We will see in time. I am hopeful it has. This will allay some concerns. Although the void is equally if not more corrupting in the end, so perhaps not. This will have to be considered further. 

It was fortunate that Ash was available afterward, although our...method of communication may have been noticed. Although Jo was also in a fair amount of pain and potentially other distractions as well. If it is brought up, I will steer the conversation elsewhere. Or perhaps her frown was due to my implicit trust in Ash. That would be a far more difficult question to answer, although I do have several excuses. Namely my favorable interest in the void and my past as a shadow priest. It could be argued that I may have, as the phrase is, "weak spot" for shadow users and especially priests. My trust in a void elf would not be necessarily out of character. 

I promised, regardless. I keep my promises at any cost.

<Another pause. The sound of clinking glass.>

I believe I will return to drinking more blood, for the time being. The mission is this evening and I am likely not wholly recovered from both Ahn'Qiraj and the ritual. I would prefer not to lapse into unconsciousness tonight due to bodily trauma. 

I have a suspicion that someone will, myself or no.

<A click.>

 

<Silence.>

 
0

<M sounds a bit strained through her monotone and is speaking slower than usual.>

Today was... as negative as anticipated. I am still processing. I... 

<A nearly thirty second pause.>

Seda is someone who I trust as much as I am capable. I respect her and admire her capabilities and intelligence. She is who I... 

<A pause.>

I saw Four when I saw her. I saw the sentry at her side, I saw the frost around her, I saw the rust on her armor. It would have been rusted. Time there... 

It was one of the least positive sights I have seen in some time. It confirmed too much and I.. I should have questioned it but it fit too well. That was the purpose of it, I imagine. It was a perfect trap for me. I walked into it without even being aware of its existence, as the best traps go. 

They listened to my orders. They will question me in the future. I will not answer. That is an experience I will not speak of. Perhaps it is best if I...remove myself from socialization for some time, until the questions are forgotten. I will not find avoiding socialization negative. 

<Another pause.>

...I have apologized repeatedly to Seda. She understands, of course. I had no doubt she would but I still am experiencing remorse. No, incorrect. Guilt. I am experiencing guilt. Heavy guilt. I do not wish to harm her under any circumstances. Herself and Jo are who I would dislike the most to face in hostility. They are the Servitors I care for. And now...

Mm.

<Nearly two minutes of silence, broken at times by the sound of shifting leathers.>

I have sustained nearly critical damage. What Ash repaired, the prophet has undone. I am uncertain where bruising ends and internal bleeding begins, and the cracked ribs from Ahn'Qiraj the first time are broken now. One of my hips moves incorrectly and causes what I judge to be bone grinding sensations as I walk. I am...not well. I am not well.

I have consumed some blood but it will not be enough. That can assist with repairing cuts, lacerations, and the like, not broken bones and internal organ trauma. Ash will be needed, at the least. I am attempting to avoid requiring Munaik's assistance. His aid usually requires ventures into hazardous locations and I do not believe myself physically capable of doing so at this time.

<A quiet sigh that turns into a wet cough.>

Ah. I still have water in my lungs. I will have to drain myself later.

...I am attempting to move my thoughts away from Seda and the past, but I...

<A pause.>

They are coming. Tonight proved it without a doubt, although I have known for years. I saw it in the sky and I heard it in its voice. They are awakening. Ulduar was the first but it will not be the last. And worse will come, too, from the void. The cult knows. 

...the cult knows.

I wonder...

<Another pause.>

No. I could not write to her. It has been too many years and I died. I am not who I was. She would not know me, if she even lives. It would be too dangerous, regardless. 

...still, though, the thought is... 

No. She is likely deceased and my present... and my...current self would likely be overly changed from who she knew. I would not wish to h-... to, mm, cause unpleasant emotions with the revelation. That avenue of information will remain closed. 

<A heavy sigh, breaking into another cough.>

I must drain myself. This is becoming inconvenient. Then I must assist Seda with her repairs. It is the least I can offer and will serve as further apologies. 

<A click.>

 

<Silence.>

 
0

<A copy of a letter is tucked into her old journal.>

Lasarra,

Greetings.

This letter is somewhat difficult to write. I will attempt to explain.

You believe I am deceased and this is correct. I died. My name then was Mottie Gearlock. I do not use this name now. I have largely dropped associations with that former life as I did not wish to hurt those who mourned my death by reopening the wound. I am undead. I have somewhat changed from the gnome you knew. Physically, of course, I am unrecognizable. 

Primarily, I am writing due to our shared, possibly former interest. I am unaware, of course, of where your interests now lie and a letter is an unsafe place to discuss it. I am one of three Commanders of the Servitors of Lothar and my unit had a negative interaction with a risen qiraji prophet in Ahn'Qiraj. We saw much in an unreal space and I am still parsing through what the implications are. Since the incident with the sword, Silithus has seen a surge in activity and I have heard interesting rumors. I was wondering if you have heard similar. Of course, if you have drifted away, that is understandable.

Secondly, I am writing out of interest. I have been out of contact for some time. I apologize for this and for not informing you of my raising roughly three years ago. Although tensions appear to be growing between the Horde and Alliance, I of course hold myself little to them. Perhaps we could meet, if this is not an unpleasant letter for you? My unit is based in Aerie Peak in the Hinterlands but I am capable of travel to other locations if needed.

If you do wish for contact, I would request that you do not use my former name. In Aerie Peak, at the least, it would cause questions for both of us and ones I imagine neither would like to answer directly. Instead, I am called M. Mindspanner.

Apologies if this letter's contents cause any distress. I imagine learning of a deceased friend's raising may be somewhat emotional.

 

-M

 
0

<The strain from the prior recording has vanished in her tone.>

I sent the letter. I had not anticipated her arrival so soon and to be frank I was unprepared to see her again. I imagine the feeling was mutual. She looks...well. 

I am getting ahead of myself. It is the fifth of March. I am outside of my house. I am...mobile. Many of my injuries remain untouched. I should at some point see to obtaining a healer. 

Back to the subject at hand. Lasarra looks well, far better than when I saw her last. She is a ren'dorei now, which was not wholly surprising. It appears to have given her renewed strength. Her illness, she says, has been slowed. I find this very positive. She deserves more time and I do not wish to watch her die. 

<A pause.>

She handled our reunion admirably and with only slight outward troubles. At first she did not believe it was me, which is understandable. I look, sound, and behave largely different due to the inhibitor and a new corpse. She handled the undeath part quite well, better than some of my prior reunions with... other elves. 

<The inflection she gives to 'other elves' implies that it's meant as an insult.>

To be frank, I missed her. We had been close, in the Highlands and Stormwind, and through a period of my former life that was full of upheaval. As with Ash, I do not anticipate her revealing our shared history. It would be negative for us all and I trust her discretion. Still, now I require lies to cover why I have two former sin'dorei...close acquaintances and one friend. None in the unit currently know Bittersteel's history, perhaps that could be an excuse. Ah, I have it. The Horde civil war was a time of interfaction cooperation. That will do. I clearly display an interest in void so the fact that they are both shadow users will not be overly questionable. Convenient.

It will be morally questionable to keep the truth of things from Jo, given that I have invited Lasarra to stay in our guest room, but I have done worse. I imagine she likely would not wish to know the truth as it is. Some histories are better left untouched and mine most of all. The children will likely only be excited for a visitor. The cats will miss having a room to themselves. It will work out acceptably. I do hope she does not mind having cat hair on her dark clothing. That is an issue to be faced. 

Moving on, though. The ritual with Jo was successful and therefore was worth all it brought. No one has questioned anything yet. Given that it is us involved, I doubt anyone will. The only person who would likely have the courage to question me would be Roiya. We will see. I am quite pleased, though. I imagine it must be freeing to be without fel influence. The void is a dangerous magic, of course, but it corrupts in quieter ways than fel. It appears more manageable, all told. I look forward to seeing what she can do with it. I suppose technically she is more of a void mage now. Frankly, I find that positive. I have always had a negative history with warlocks.

<A single, monotone 'heh.'>

Moving on.

Lasarra and I spoke of the other content of my letter, namely of Their return. She has heard rumors, too, and similar to what I have. That confirms it in my mind. Something is coming, perhaps akin to the void descending on Mac'Aree. Perhaps not. Time will tell. Neither of us are sure what we will do when it comes. For me, it depends on what I can excuse to the unit. I do not necessarily wish for direct service, not again, but the glimpses of the truth that I obtained from it last time were... beneficial and world view changing. It may be worth the risk. It may not. The exact circumstances will tell which it is. They are returning, though. I have heard rumors of saronite vapors in Ulduar and that an old relic speaks of N'Zoth's coming freedom. A storm is coming. I wish to be on the winning side of it.

This also implies, though, that she has not left our old associations behind wholly either. That is positive. If the day comes, I will not be entirely alone. I would spare some from what may come, the family and Seda, but my emotional attachments do not extend much further. I would not directly sell the unit out, of course. 

But.

<A long pause.>

Tally has procured a list of necessary supplies for a teleporter by which we can attempt to access Lammy. The Tower was a potential location for supplies but I have changed that before anyone would have ideas. We will have an officer meeting to discuss potential ways forward soon. Likely the quicker the better. I am uncertain where she specifically is but it cannot be entirely pleasant, trapped somewhere without contact with us. 

For now, though, I am going to gather many blankets and deposit them in Lasarra's room. For old time's sake.

<A click.>

 

<Silence.>

 
0

<The sound of occasional drilling is audible in the background. Sometimes it's followed by a thunk of armor hitting stone.>

Today is April 9th. I am in the workshop. I am...functional. 

Lasarra had to readjust my ribs again. It is becoming an inconvenience, even with the compression. Being forcibly slammed against a tree pushed several of the broken ones out of place, which was unsurprising but, again, inconvenient. Fortunately, my current project will reduce the amount of internal damage sustained in battle.

It was her idea, actually. I had no intention of returning to Gnomeregan. I do not find revisiting pleasant. Still, this was quite beneficial. After executing the leper inside, the only main hassle was relocating the Peacekeeper suit to the surface. Apparently its brief visit to the ren'dorei rift caused a smell but there was no other difficulty there. All that remains now is to remove the questionable modifications the leper made to it, continue to remove the blood stains from his demise, and to adjust the armor to my requirements. Then, I will require a better power source and also the cooling improvement Seda mentioned. 

...it will take some time to complete. I have other duties to attend to, so this will be a project in my spare time only.

<A pause.>

I missed her. Lasarra that is. I have mentioned this previously. We share a past that few others have been witness to. Out of everyone I knew then, I am in contact with only her. Elu is gone. Cere is-...

<A disapproving grunt.>

She is all that is left of that life. Departing in secret to do dangerous things we likely should not be brings back many memories. And having her in the house is...pleasant. It...mm. How to phrase. 

It...feels right. Yes. It feels right.

For now, though, I imagine that once I have removed this extremely poor rocket attachment, I should make a social appearance in the infirmary. Zibby -was- injured. I believe a card is the correct comfort method. They have been positively accepted in the past. 

...I thought that his injuries would cause a greater sense of concern, but. Perhaps that is for the best. He will be fine, we have healers.

<Her shrug is audible in the shifting of leathers.>

 

<Silence.>

 

 

 
0

M. Mindspanner was a bad person. She knew that, she'd been aware of it for many years, and she accepted it. In public life, of course, she had to present a more acceptable face; a leader of a unit had to, to a certain extent at least, be respectable. The moments where she could let that face drop were few and far between, and she grasped onto them as soon as she saw them coming.

From tactical, and truthfully from most other, perspectives, the mission into the Goldsprings mine was an absolute failure. Little of worth to most had been accomplished, injuries had been sustained, and the targets were now extremely aware of the investigation on them. There would be no reentry for some time. There would be consequences to two blatant attacks. A failure, though, was not what M saw it as. Despite the lack of any hard results, she felt the distant, faint smugness of satisfaction. She'd done well, beyond her wildest hopes. She had much yet to do. 

M sat back in her office chair, sorting through all the sedatives and knives she'd taken. Three bottles of chloroform were carefully placed into her locked supply cabinet, swapped for a rack of empty vials. As she began transferring the clear liquid into the vials, filling them quickly to the brim before corking each, she detached her mind from the repetitive motions to start parsing through the evening prior. 

Jo may have questions, that was her primary concern, and questions she did not wish to answer. Lying to her wife was not something she enjoyed but on this occasion, perhaps, would be necessary. The call she had made, and the specifics of what she'd said in that black speech, were not facts she wanted to give voice to. M would pay the price quietly and alone if she could. It had been worth the cost to save both of their lives. That, though, was only the tip of the iceberg. Harder to justify was the creature. 

M slid three vials of chloroform into her pocket, frowning slightly as her hands fumbled. She could feel the exhaustion from the last few days. Although none of it she regretted, she was very aware that she had overextended to a considerable degree. The Mind Spanner was always taxing, even more now in a body untrained in mental manipulation, and her feats of the mission barely forty-eight hours later had been worse. Not in years had she pushed herself so far, so repeatedly, and certainly never in undeath. What consequences would come of it she did not know, which concerned her. Without the ability to sleep, or rest to any real degree, she was unsure how long a full recovery would take. If it would take at all. 

There was one dawning regret M had from the night's mission, and only one: not asking the creature what it was, or what at least it called itself. She had a theory of course - kraken often served the same masters she did - but M always preferred hard facts to even educated guesswork. Whatever it was, it was still a child of its kind; a small, by comparison, thing but with power far beyond its scale. It had shown her much, some of which she had long wished to see. Another glimpse of Ny'alotha, sleeping beneath the waves that she had heard whispers of all those years ago. The absolute confirmation that They slept fitfully and were stirring again. And she'd learned a new thing, too -- that her suspicions of the ship had been correct. The creature had been brought to the surface by a seafaring cult, acting in service to their dark masters. Not that M had shared that information yet. 

She ferried the remaining chloroform vials to her locked cabinet, mulling over her options. Duty compelled her to inform her sergeant about that particular connection but, as always with those kinds of ties, a part of her remained reluctant. They were, to an extent, on the same side after all, as a small voice in her mind liked to remind her. Still, though, her gut told her that this information, at least, should be shared. The rest of the evening's events, and the specifics of how they played out, would remain between her and Jo. 

Lasarra

M frowned slightly in consideration, taking her time as she uncorked a few vials of a deep, red liquid. She couldn't taste the blood, of course, as she swallowed it but the rush was always the same. It was one of her few pleasures; the distant sensation of life and power that washed over her every time she used that particular method of healing. The rat in the mine had been particularly enjoyable. M suspected the hunt that came before the kill to be the cause of it but she filed that away for another day's unpacking and turned back to considering her elf. 

There was no denying that she'd be very interested in what M had done and learned, and M very much wished to share. No one else on the planet she trusted with that information, not the complete and honest truth of it all. Not the real reasons. What Jo may or may not suspect was its own problem, but M could not, would not, tell her everything. Lasarra, though. Lasarra knew it all already; she'd lived it. The only concern M had there was that she could overstrain herself and M would never forgive herself if she was responsible for Lasarra's health turning poor again. 

She frowned deeper. It would be something to consider strongly. Given that they lived in the same house, is would be hard to hide that something, even without details, happened, and something major. Jo would have to deal with their choices at some point and would likely do so at home. Questions would, eventually, come of it. M settled on a compromise; she would base the level of detail on her friend's health. It would do. 

Trying not to strain her plugged bullet holes, M hefted her case of blood vials back into their trunk, locking it after. She would have to get them seen to soon, yet another thing to find Lasarra for. After giving her office another cursory glance, and leaving her looted knife collection arrayed on her desk, she quietly padded out. 

 

It would be a quiet night of contemplation, although one free of morality debates. She'd willingly followed the road she'd chosen this far; she wasn't going to question it now. 

 
0

<The occasional sound of scraping metal in the background. M is speaking in guttural, odd language; Gutterspeak.>

Today is May 8th. I am in the workshop, alone at the moment. I am...recovering. Functional, though.

I told Lasarra everything. Her reaction was roughly what I anticipated, which was...how to phrase. Comfortable. Pleasant. I am always pleased at our shared interest and that it runs deeper than just a surface level. She offered to smooth over the mine incident as well, should Jo ask too many questions. Although I do not anticipate that happening, it is positive to have Lasarra in the know and able to be interference. Jo has not brought up any of what she saw, though. My current operating assumption is that she plans to ignore it. I have no troubles with that.

As I said to Lasarra, I opened a door. I am uncertain what will come of it. Calling on such a pact will come with a price, of course, but little has happened yet. It may not for some time. These are powers that operate on their own time and for reasons beyond me. What happens will happen. I will face it as I always have and do what is required in return. It is only when I resisted that the real troubles happened.

<A pause. More metal scraping. The sound of bolts being drilled into place.>

We have returned Lammy to the keep. She is unwell, of course. Legion captivity is not pleasant. The cage she was kept in held some kind of energy or life drain, I felt it while I was inside. It pulled on me, too, but I was able to resist. She has sustained a large amount of fel burns, some of which were on fire when we arrived. They have been put out but I imagine there will be long term consequences from that and the starvation. It is difficult to recover from that.

I have moved the wheelchair into the infirmary again from storage, so when she is strong enough, she can be mobile. I also widened the seat slightly, as Pandaren are large. 

<Another pause. Loud hammering for a few seconds.>

The suit nears completion. I must locate Seda and speak with her about power. Soon if possible. I am...unwell, physically. I have pushed my abilities past safe levels and repeated injuries are beginning to take a toll. I cannot always rely on Lasarra to relocate blood back into the organs it should be in and continually put my ribs in place. As with the last one, I have removed the heaviest armor on the suit but I have kept more around the torso than previously. The original armor and padding was fairly irradiated, unfortunately, so these are non-original parts. Still, it will provide more reinforcement and padding, so blows will be more absorbed by it instead of my internal organs and rib cage.

Noise will again become a concern, of course. I no longer have access to Sparkles for the silence enchantment. I do plan on rubberizing the bottom of the feet segment, which will greatly help reduce walking noise, but otherwise...mm. I will have to consider options. Knutcrank may be a potential source of ideas, if not actual solutions.

In the meantime, once it is fully powered, I will simply have to be careful.

That is all.

<A click.>

 

<Silence.>

 
0

M sat. Night had long since fallen over the rolling hills of Westfall that overlooked the up-and-coming, rotten at the core town of Goldsprings. Stargazing could've been an excellent pastime in these dark hills had she not had a very singular focus. In the dark, the town seemed little more than a innocent, rustic village like many others that dotted the fields, but her stern gaze on the mine entrance didn't falter in its cold, remote anger. There was not much innocent about it, save for perhaps a few residents. Residents that M would sacrifice in a heartbeat in exchange for her sergeant. 

Her sergeant. 

She shifted in place, the barest shifting of grass against her invisible presence the only outward sign, before stilling again. M didn't like caring about people. Twenty years of experiences had drilled in that caring meant pain, whether that pain would come soon or later was the only uncertainty. She'd allowed herself Seda for a number of excuses - shared undeath, her Peacekeeper past, their experiences in Karazhan - and she barely counted Lasarra due to their friendship in life carried over to undeath, but Tally was different. As her choice of Advisor, M felt that she should have a professional, courteous but distant, relationship. It was for the best; she often did a number of shady, suspicious, and sometimes outright damnably illegal things and it was best to keep at arm's length from anyone with any authority in the unit. She couldn't quite deny, though, the faintest glints of anger, of a desire for vengeance, at the thought of Tally chained in a mine, kidnapped and held by the cult. She would not let that stand. She could not.

The singular guard made his rounds again, holding an eerily glowing lantern who's light cast sharply angled shadows as he passed houses and walls. Something had changed in the town, that much M had noticed immediately. A tension was brewing between the civilians and militia, aimed at times directly at the guard. The curfew had been unexpected. Briefly, M thought of the innkeeper who had seemed a genuine, open woman; if - when - the sins of the council were revealed, would she turn on them? Would the rest?

It would be a risk, all of it. A plan was forming in her mind as she sat, ignoring the small part of her that worried, if distantly, about Tally. The hand Zuriah had seen her chained to was a Defias human. Their location, as best as the draenei had scryed, was a newly dug mine shaft. And if the little monster in the mine had grown and required a larger body of water than its former puddle... 

M frowned. The Deadmines had a lake large enough for a ship of some size, she'd seen that in person. Although she wasn't sure about the mine's layout, it could have brushed near enough to the old Defias lair to connect; they'd dug new tunnels already, she wouldn't put it past them to do it again. A strike on the back entrance would be unexpected and she doubted they'd be ready. Aside from responding to the emergency beacon, little of importance had been said over the COMMs. The bug installed in Tally's COMM after her kidnapping had been caught early, so they would have no real warning. 

Invisible in the darkness above the sleeping village, M nodded to herself. It was as solid a plan as she would be able to muster on short notice. Now all she could do was wait.

 
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