Beyarma's Journal, vol.III

March the Eighteenth, year xx

Crops have started to die. There's no evidence that they're infested, or even touched with remnants of plague, the latter of which wouldn't surprise me anymore. The pumpkins and squash are just--dead, when they were perfectly healthy and growing not two days before, and I've been finding patches of wilted and dried grass all along the southwestern border of the property.

I honestly hope the spirit hasn't suddenly decided to change her approach, but it would explain why she's stopped trying to destroy the inside of the house. Just in case, I'll be taking Williams' suggestion and trying Mageroyal wards around the borders of the house and around the coop and hives. Ruarnn and Haloa have also agreed to stay a while and take care of things in my stead while I stay with Rhodge in Stormwind, so we can see if the spirit is after me specifically or if she's just territorial. 

Worst case scenario, they did suggest asking Advisor Shadowpaw for assistance with an exorcism if all else fails. There's still that spirit medium in Stormwind that the Commander mentioned, too.

Speaking of Kankor Williams, it's been a few months now since we met, and I can say I'm not inclined yet to run the other direction. Compared to the people I've usually encountered in Stormwind, I'm going to take that as a hopeful sign that we can stay friends a while longer. I think I might actually enjoy his help with cleaning up the farm if--when--the spirit moves on and stops making a mess. Walthorne, on the other hand--I think I can learn to enjoy his acquaintance, especially if it's another exercise in cheek, but it's a good thing I have two years' experience of mingling with the Swordbrethren or else I'd be properly horrified by his actions and the things that came out of his mouth tonight. At the very least, after watching him with another woman I know to mind my rear around him, and I'll be able to react accordingly if he tries.

It's been over two weeks and I still haven't written to tell Da I'm back with the Servitors again. Not that I'd expect any sort of acknowledgement, but I suppose I'm still a bit frightened of what he'd think about my returning to combat, after two years of emphasis on all the mediation and recovery work I've been doing.

Then again, I can't help wondering why on earth I'm still frightened. The Cursed are intimidating enough without his temper, but compared to surviving a worgen attack, the Forsaken invasion, Sha, evisceration, demons, and a dreadlord, I've objectively survived far worse things than a proud and bitter man. 

March the Twentieth, year xx

Things are not well at all. I haven't been away from the farm for two days, and already I've got word from Ruarnn that they've found three hens and some of the bees dead--sudden heart failure for the birds, as far as they can tell. What's more, they're still finding failed vegetables, the screaming's back and happening in the day now, and there was a frightening episode where Nikota was locked into the herb stores, seemingly without anyone actually touching the lock, and the wolfsbane knocked over nearby.

He's made clear his understanding that he's not to handle any of the herbs without spoken permission, so it's all the more unsettling that he'd be in there unsupervised. And the wolfsbane is kept under lock and key on the top shelf, far too high for him to reach or even knock over just by thumping around the place. Only a small amount came into contact with his wrist, thank Cenarius, and they were able to cleanse any topical poisoning before it could do much worse than cause a rash, but the way it all happened is just...

Targeted or not, Ruarnn will be taking Nikota back to the Barrens to protect him from any further incidents. Haloa is staying behind another night at least to observe and try a few tricks of her own to keep the spirit in check, but I'm obviously going to have to get someone up here soon if she doesn't have any luck. 

I'll see who I can get after tonight's mission.

We've got an incredibly dangerous relic of unclear function in our possession, Howick Walthorne has hit a woman for seemingly no reason and I am now worried if I am also at risk around him, Rhodge came home feverish and on the brink of passing out, and only now when I've settled in to sleep do I realized I still haven't remembered to talk to the Advisor.

I just...I'll get to it later. Right now I'm just tired. More than I ought to be in the span of just a few hours.

April the 1st, year xx

There were two spirits, not one.

I was wrong that there wasn't a personal connection. How am I supposed to recognize someone if she died before I was alive long enough to open my eyes?

My dead mother came back from the grave because of Da quitting on me and Rhodge, and she could have moved on months ago if she hadn't stayed to try and keep the other one from hurting people.

I don't know if I'm more surprised that she came back at all, that she spoke about Da the way she did, or that she's been showing up in my mirrors and peripheral vision for two years without going mad. I just know I'm all a mess of emotions from only getting to talk to her for a few moments before she passed on again.

((Ink dots the page in several places after the last paragraph, as if the writer tried and failed repeatedly to get further words onto the page.))

April 11, year xx

I have found that I am no longer smarting over seeing Batchelder's face again.

Alright, I really am, and I'm a horrid liar. At this point I don't think it's possible for me to stop missing him or feeling regret over how it ended. But years have made it easier to carry that sadness without feeling too obliged to wallowing in tears and wishful thinking for days. I've had time to accept that he's gone and won't be coming back--that even if he did, I likely would not be so lucky as I was with his second life.

I have found that I am no longer feeling twisted up to be near crying. 

I'm mostly indignant. Angry, actually.

Angry at myself, maybe, for having so many years to move on and still not being entirely over someone who's dead and gone. Or maybe I'm angry at that cursed place for having the gall to try and hit me in such an old wound. Was that supposed to shake me so soundly as to send me falling apart into a blubbering, useless mess? If so, then it's about two years too late for that.

I am ready to return. I have endured far worse things, and far too many of them, to be taken down so easily. Just let Karazhan try to underestimate my resolve a second time.

March 18, year xx

Rhodge has been telling me for months to bring a horse onto the farm, if only to pull a plow or wagon. I don't know if it's my fear of ending up like Batchelder that's kept me from it, but either way I still haven't gotten the barn rebuilt and usable, either for a plowhorse or those goats I've been thinking of getting.

Yet somehow I've ended up with a lamb sleeping in my bedroom and following me about the property. Excellent way to remind me of my procrastination.

Truth be told, I have no idea why he was out there alone, or how long he must have survived being out in Westfall on his own. All I can gather is that he must have been lost for a couple of days at least from how hungry he was--he could have ended up in a much worse state than Gaius found him in. I suppose I'll know soon enough if it turns out someone has lost any sheep recently, and then Edmund the Second can return home. In the meantime, I've found that having him sleep nearby has provided some comfort against the nightmares.

...And then Gaius invited me to have dinner on Friday. That's something.

First off, I'm still having a bit of trouble wrapping my head around the concept that out of plenty of women more clever, more talented, more engaging and witty and delightful, the man can take a look at someone like me and think, "Goodness, I'm not going to try and squeeze that bottom, but by the Light, that cabbage patch witch is the girl I've taken a fancy to!". Second, I cannot believe there's no strings attached to how polite and pleasant he's appeared so far. For goodness' sake, I thought Howick and Taldrel were a delight when I first met them, then one turned out to be a chronic drunk and skirt chaser and the other ended up a kilt dropper. I've come to accept that there is no such thing as an enjoyable man who has no great, problematic flaw to overshadow all his positive traits--the other shoe has to drop at some point, if not when he comes to talk business with the Swordbrethren, then later. Besides, he's just not Batch.

I'll grant Gaius is quite easy on the eyes, and much nicer company than Howick, but still; we have only met a few times now. My heart has no right yet to go all aflutter like some silly schoolgirl's. 

Stop that, Woodrey.

I still need to talk with the others, arrange a day for him to come visit the Keep and start making connections and agreements for his project. There's a fair number here more intuitive and smarter with other people than I--perhaps M or somebody will be able to sniff out his Secret Problem.

And I'd better let them know, too,  to start searching if I go missing after that dinner.

((The letters are crooked and don't quite follow along a straight line.))

July 6 year xx

I can s ee letters again! Sort of. 

It onl y took a bloody month but I can -technically- see well enough to write again! 

Light, I can't wait to get out of this Keep and work properly again.

Dad

Barrick

Dear Dad 

I don't know what else I can say anymore. I write from afar to give you distance, and don't get a word back. I try to come to you and you lock the door and pretend I'm not there. What exactly do you want from me

I've tried my best. I don't know how else I can apologize to y  

Dad,

I'm going to keep this short.

I'm still alive, and I'm still a Servitor. I've survived many ordeals and grown wiser and stronger for it. Now people in good authority are saying there could be another Burning Legion invasion on the way, and if that is the case then of course we will have to go and fight.

I want you to be safe. I want my family to be able to carry on with their lives protected from war and destruction. This is why when if the Legion arrives, I'm going to be right there at the front. I am sorry if this frightens or upsets you further, but I cannot sit idly by when I've the strength and capability to do something about it and help those fighting with me to survive a little while longer. You know what the Legion has done in the past, and the sacrifices people had to make to repel them every time--I have to do my part as well.

I'd be lying if I said I'm not afraid to die in battle--I'd be foolish not to be afraid, and even more so when so much is on the line. But that's true for every soldier or guard who faces danger so that those less capable won't have to, isn't it? What I'm most afraid of is dying without having ever made peace with the man who gave so much of himself to raise me and my brother, without an answer on whether you really do hate me so much now that you don't care if I do come back in a casket

I'm so scared of what's going to happen, Dad. I just want to be able to come home and really -talk- and feel welcome and like part of a family again before it's too late. I miss the loving, gentle Da I remember from my childhood. And I know that Gaius--the man I've thrice written you about--wants to meet you, too. 

We can't change the past, but I would like to begin again. Please give me your answer

--Beyarma

July the fourteenth fifteenth, year xx

I can't stop yawning or closing my eyes and I've already walked into my kitchen table once today, but it was worth it to get to see those two again. It feels like an age since I saw Kankor or Howick last, and I don't know if it's just from running into them again by chance, but I can say with absolute certainty that last night was the happiest and most carefree I've felt for longer than I can remember. Somehow I didn't feel like I had to be careful with my words--it was just a bold, easy stream of snark and ridiculousness and back and forth banter accompanied with catching up and finger duels and friendly knocks and gathering Rose and some other Gilneans together for a time, and I felt like I completely belonged there with these people and I absolutely loved it. I wasn't even as horrified by some of the stories as I might have been a year or two ago!

Howick's shoulder does worry me, but there is only so much I can non-forcibly do when he continues to insist he's fine with it locking up so frequently. Is there really much I can do for an old wound, besides?

For all of Kankor's exhausting bursts of enthusiasm or however much I grumble about Howick's more unfortunate habits, I really have become fond of these two hooligans somehow. So now, of course, I'm even more frightened by the possibility of losing them if when all those signs prove true and the Legion does arrive. I love them, but I fear for how well they can protect themselves against things even half as bad as  some of the rubbish I've survived on a monthly basis

Don't go being such a proud bint, Bey. 

On a relevant note, I'm beginning to wonder in hindsight if I'm only setting myself up for another heartbreak by getting as far in with Gaius as I have. For years I swore I'd never let myself experience another loss like Batchelder, and after seeing so many guildmates and friends in the Circle die I swore I'd keep my heart to myself so I wouldn't have to go through all that grief again, and all of a sudden here I am now, unable to get this new man out of my thoughts and besotted as a schoolgirl when I see him. I do love him, and I do think I'd like spending what could be left of my life with him, but Light, what was I thinking? Did Mum, Batch, Ser, and Meri all somehow fail to drive it into my thick stupid skull that people we love can die far too easily? How can I survive having my heart torn to shreds again if I get that news?

I can't I don't want 

Light, my stomach hurts now. I think I'd better have some tea and a liedown before this gets worse. So much for feeling happy and at ease.

And why does that knotted cloth he left with the boquet make me so bloody nervous?

July 26

Hemlock. Too slow. What am I going to do, sit the Legion down and treat them to a hemlock salad or a quail fed on hemlock seeds? 

Oleandrin. Gastrointestinal upset, primarily cardiac damage. Refined, can be used as a paralytic or to attack the nervous system--expect drowsiness, tremors, seizures.

What about turning the Plague back against the Legion? Maybe with experimentation with the mushrooms in the Plaguelands, and collaboration with some of the Argent apothecaries to see what could be refined No. Maybe? NO. We are not going to do another Wrathgate. The idea of modifying and turning one of the Legion's most devastating creations against it for war sounds like ironic justice, but there's no guarantee that anything involving components of the Plague wouldn't contaminate allies or the surrounding earth in the meantime. 

...Fel if I'm suddenly not eager at the idea of taking the stuff apart to see what makes it work and if we use any parts of it to just hurt the demons, though. I can already think of one particular Plaguewood fungus that would grow rather explosively out of some Legion lungs if the spores were inhaled. 

Perhaps I should not spend as much time around plague and undeath and playing with poisons as I have been these days; even if the Curse makes me immune to being raised, I'm sure this is going to start looking like a sick obsession soon. What else can I do, though? My offensive non-flora spellwork has gone to shite, and I'm fairly certain that charging at a demon as a bear will just likely get me burned again--I don't think I'll be so lucky as to survive another grave encounter with felfire--so aside from healing, it feels like all I've really got to help people in battle anymore is stuff I can daub onto my knife or toss at a target's eyes or airways to make the better fighters' jobs easier. Why not look where I can to make that stuff as effective as possible?

That's the easy explanation, anyways. I'm more ashamed to actually admit to anybody that ever since going blind, I've been frightened to go back on the field where there's fel involved. I hated being so helpless and useless for so long, and I can't shake Gaius' question of what'll happen if the same thing happens and I lose my sight again, or something else? But, you know, I might have even gotten over that with time enough if he hadn't proposed. Now whenever I think about going out on a mission, I also have to feel guilty and nervous at the thought of him receiving news that his dear fiance's been incapacitated again, or worse, killed. 

Or it could happen to him.

Batchelder was a citizen minding his own business, and bad luck and a horse still got him killed. Gaius makes a living of putting himself in far more dangerous situations than Batchelder ever would have had the business to seek out--I can't stop thinking about how easily he could become another Meri. 

Is it selfish of me, then, to fret mostly about how I'll survive having my heart shattered a second time after letting it get so much more attached than the last? Gods, what was I thinking when I said yes? I probably could have saved myself a world of devastation and pain by staying mindful of the likely outcome and sparing myself the trouble--or better yet, if I had headed all this off at the start

No. No that is horrible. No. That's a horrible way to think about someone who loves you. What am I going to do, go to the man who looks at me like I'm more important than the sun and moon and say, "On second thought, no thank you, I'd rather be alone and heartsick forever than lose my will to live again in the all-too-likely event you die doing your job. Also, thanks for the sparkly jewels and the sheep"? No. If even Eth can be brave enough to love again after what happened with Meri, then I have no excuse good enough to excuse me from doing the s

Nausea. Just spent a good ten minutes trying to be done vomiting. Left with sluggish feeling and a burning deep in the back of my throat.

...How long has it been since

no

ohgodsnopleasej ust be too much plague

Thank the gods, Cadme says it's just too much plague and not eating or resting enough.

On the other hand, what does it say about me that I'd much rather really be sick than find out I'm with child?

I know I can survive overexposure to plague, that's what

August 4

By the Light and Cenarius and every other power I know, I have never feared for an applicant so powerfully, let alone within their first hour after being hired.

I am shaken but relieved that the matter did not escalate as far as it might have. Mortified, too. I am still trying to absorb the knowledge that someone I consider a friend and referred over here for work acted with such contempt and disrespect to one of my commanding officers. I think I'd assumed that Howick would know to set aside his typical crass callousness when dealing with a new employer, at least enough to not call her a blimey nutter to her face and dismiss her statement of proven experiences and evidence as some manner of hallucinogenic ravings. 

Advisor Mindspanner is right, though. I do want to see him and Kankor find success here, it would be lovely if life matched up to my perfect world where I could do excellent work right next to my friends, but we are not his old band or crew or rebellion--we have a stricter code of conduct than I am beginning to suspect he is accustomed to, and this kind of behavior simply cannot continue if he is to make it past his thirty days. I'll have to have words with him as soon as can be managed, and make it clear the sort of standards and potential consequences he is dealing with. If I need to, I'll even go so far as to point out that this sort of rubbish makes me look bad for referring him here in the first place. 

Somehow I'm starting to question whether that'll be enough. Light help me, I have a deep fear now that he'll get the Advisor coming down on his head before this is all resolved, if not just let go.

This is just like Dad nearly getting himself clapped in irons all over again. In a way, I feel just as responsible for this as I did for that. I'm just praying that my judgement of Kankor is still correct and that he won't bring such trouble when he does get called in for his letter.

I'm also suddenly glad to not be a Scout. I don't want to consider having a division leader that frightening.

Rhodge is dead.

Sky and Masana are dead, Gaius is gone and I don't know if he's alive and Rhodge is dead and Dad's going to find out Rhodge is dead.

i'm done.

It's been a week now.

I thought it'd hurt worse by now. Instead I just feel nothing.

I'm starting to prefer nothing to the alternative. At least staying a worgen is helpful for that much--it hasn't let me fall into a weeping mess just yet.

I've made enough potions, antidotes, medicines and bandages that if I keep going, I'll have to store them in the mess hall pantry. 

I need to find something else to do. Keep my hands busy, keep from sitting around grieving Rhodge and worrying for Gaius and Kankor.

The poisons I have now won't be much use. I doubt even the Dreadshade can be fully effective against a creature of the fel.

I need to find something new.