Dear Diary

Tales From Under the Rubble- Rubblerat's Journal and Stories

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5-31

It's been a hot minute since I bothered to keep a journal. Not that I ever used one in a “traditional” sense. In The City, I drew maps, marked potential salvage, and reminded myself of dangerous areas. I don't recall ever putting my thoughts or feelings to paper. I didn't need to, it was unnecessary. In The City, I lived like a machine; Purge, Survive, Rinse, Repeat.

I obviously don't live in The City any longer. It was killing me faster than any Trogg could ever dream to, as loathe as I am to admit that. Still, can't deny it any longer. Can't deny it anymore, either. Can't claim they were wrong to take me from my home. My “medical leave” proved that much. Damn it, the replacement still itches.

I've found work on the surface. Started about half a year ago, or so. It's a small military unit, the Servitors of Lothar, commissioned by Alliance High Command. Whatever the frick-frack that is. I'm gonna admit, I haven't done a whole lot to learn about the wide-spread social constructs of the surface. I also haven't gotten to know many of the Servitors, really. I honestly just thought this would be something to do, a distraction until I could sneak my way back home. I have run into a number of setbacks.

I knew about the Legion before I left The City. The subject came up a few times when there were still schools. A fitting name for an uncountable amount of effectively immortal monsters. I just never imagined they'd invade again again as soon as I joined with the Servitors. On the Surface as it is in The City. Grandfather always said, “The Road of Life is covered in potholes full of shit.”

I am currently camped out in a place called Highmountain, a region of a place called the Lost Isles. Moose People live here. They seem okay, overly large, but okay. Well, except for the “Feltotem.” That's why I'm out of here. I lead a team, still unsure why I volunteered, to to clean up some Feltotem holdouts and stop some demonic ritual of theirs. Which I think we did. Buried it under a cave-in, at the very least. Still, I'm keeping an eye on it. I can steal hear it howl--

Something's happening.



Last edited by Shivs Ankleshank on Jun. 2nd, 2017 3:41 am; edited 1 time in total
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LOG #2765

 

-A tape rewinds before resuming play. -

A male, Gnomish voice speaks. It is cold, flat, and maybe a little bored.

“Please state your name for the recording.”

In reply, a woman speaks, Gnomish as well, and nervous.

“Uh... I-I'm Quincy Copperstamp.” She pauses. “Am I in trouble?” To that, the male speaker replies with an exasperated sighm as if he'd heard that same question a hundred times today.”

“Of course not. I just need you to answer a few questions. Questions about The City.” The unnamed man explains as patiently as he can, which is to say, not very at all. “Now. The Citizen's Registry says you lived in Sub-Block C-72, is this correct?”

“Y-yeah, by the Coppermill. Uh, hence the name.”

“Very fitting.” He replies dryly. “During The Fall, you claimed you were escorted to the upper levels. Safe-zone B-1. Is this also correct?”

“Y-yes,” There is a pain and turmoil in Quincy's voice as she answers. For a moment after, the only sounds from the recording is a rhythmic tapping and shuffling of papers.

“Did you ever return to the Sub-Levels?” The man asks.

“Of course not!That would have been suicide for anyone!” Quincy pauses again, taking a shuddering breath. “Anyone, but...”

“'But'?”

“Anyone but my guide. She was the only one to go to the slums and return.”

“Who was this 'She' you refer to?” The man asks quickly, an intrigued haste replacing the dry boredom in his tone. The tapping takes on an agitated pace.

“Ca... Cascade... Rubblerat. Cascade Rubblerat, she called herself. She brought a lot of survivors up from that hellish pla-” The man quickly cuts Quincy off, impatient now.

“Is she alive now?”

“I-I don't know! She stopped coming by a month or so after The Fall... We assumed there was no one else to find or she, y-y'know...” Quincy swallows nervously. “Died.” Something slams shut, a book or binder, making Quincy squak in agitation.

“Thank you, Mrs. Copperstamp. That will be all. Please wait outside and my associate will take you back to New Tinkertown.” A chair scrapes sharply against concrete, followed by hurried footsteps and a heavy door closing forcefully. After a moment of rhythmic tapping, the man speaks one last time. “Mr. Jay. Wipe Mrs. Copperstamp's recollection of this conversation before taking her back. Thank you.”

-Here, the recording ends.-

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LOG #2773

-A tape rewinds before resuming play.-

A male, Gnomish voice speaks. His tone is cold with an edge of excitement.

“Finally, the first phase is complete. Took about a month of chasing paper trails to track our subject down, some nitwit called Pecilpusher let such a valuable asset out into the world in the name of “Rehabilitation”. No matter. She was found and brought in. Her new unit were none the wiser to her sudden absence.” The man scoffs and sighs. “She is a firecracker, to be sure. Killed two of my operatives before she was sedated. Not that she will remember any of that. It was fortunate, for the sake of the fabricated tale of an emergency medical procedure we implemented in her memories, that she actually needed some extensive surgery. Really, it's incredible that she is even alive after staying within The City for so long.” Another sigh, followed by a gentle slurping and the sound of ceramic being gently placed on a metal surface. “Regardless, the tumors were easily removed and the Augmentation was successfully installed. Her test run was...” The man pauses and the silence is filled with a steady drumming upon the metal surface. “Absolutely incredible. I'm confident we will be able to push onto the second phase in another month, once we finish mapping the Sub-Sectors and prepare the second Augmentation. We'll... We'll have it soon, I know it.”

 

-Here, the recording ends.-

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-The handwriting of this entry is a bit sloppy.-

6-31

Reaching the end of the second week of furlough and, subsequently, the end of furlough itself. I've spent most of it bar-hopping around Stormwind and Ironforge. Just came from Ironforge and, before that, Wildhammer Keep.

I handed in a request for promotion to Commander Mindspanner. Well, slipped it under her office door, as she's off enjoying(?) furlough as well. I'm not a hundred percent sure why I'm getting further involved with this unit. I figured I'd have sneaked off and back to The City by now, but, I guess I'm becoming attached in some capacity. Probably also has some connection to why I impulsively volunteered to lead the team in Highmountain. It went well, monstrous, rock-climbing hell-beast considered.

I don't think I'll be shooting for sergeant, but I would like to stand with the rest of the Servitors as a Sentinel. I guess Pencilpusher and the shrinks were right, I'm starting to like the surface.

 

Just a bit, though.

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