The Unnamed Elder

In Orgrimmar today I met a very old, very gruff orc. His movements were stiff and his skin was stretched thin over his face and body from what I could see. He did not seem to like me much at first. Then we got to talking. He referenced his scars... especially the one over his eye. He told me it was from when the Scourge invaded Kalimdor briefly. I was not awake for this, so he told me a very grim tale of how he obtained the scar. It still looked infected, so I volunteered to mend it. I knew it wouldn't take the scar away, but I thought maybe it would at the least cleanse the infection.

He refused. I told him that I would call upon the Light to try and heal him, and he said that he didn't know of this "Light spirit" and did not wish to be mended. Said it would be a dishonor to his traditions. All I could do for the remaining minutes I spent in his company was stare at that festering scar, knowing that it came from a servant of a man whom I once called Prince...

One that I would have been proud to call King, before everything happened.

I had to dismiss myself. I wanted to rise up, cast that foulness out of his wound and be done with it. No doubt it would have caused me great pain, not just from calling upon the Light, but from an angry orc that suddenly felt dishonored. I hope time softens his heart to the idea. I mean, I only wanted to try.

Out of Sight...

But never out of mind. Even as the Midsummer festival goes into full swing, I make sure I have time for my morning and evening prayers. They're for my friends, and those who I consider family. Day and night I ask the Light to protect and guide the Bishop and the rest of the Gauntlet who have gone out to stop the demon that had been tormenting us. And every day I pray that Annjia is safe... in whichever dark places her journey must take her.

I've made a few new friends here in Orgrimmar, one in particular who is very nice, but I'm very confused about. Perhaps if I see her again today I'll write more about this.

Midsummers Past

I arrived in Orgrimmar a couple days ago. I didn't realize how long I've spent cooped up in Tyr's Hand until I saw the Midsummer wreaths. I went to sit at the edge of the pond in the Valley of Wisdom and I saw the candles floating on the water...

And in an instant I was brought back to my childhood. Those late summer nights were spent running wild through the streets with my friends throwing those Midsummer petals at each other... getting caught up in the chase with that delirious smell of smoke and flowers. Right when the sun went down, you could go and buy a candle to float on the water. All those little lights in the moat in front of Stratholme were like the stars that would come out minutes later. And then the fireflies would come out and everyone would try to capture a few. Not to mention the bonfire, and all the blossoms hung around the city.

Seems a far cry from what's being done here. A few candles here and there and wreaths. Sure, there's a big bonfire but there isn't that sense of community. Everyone speaks more about going to extinguish the flames the Alliance has built. I don't understand what's so fun about denying people the same kind of enjoyment that I had so long ago.

I look forward to having new memories of this year's Midsummer Festival. Maybe this year will rival the ones of old?

Farewell, Sister.

I cannot convey how concerned I am for her. She's the only family I've got left, even though we aren't really related. She's lost someone dear to her... and I know how that feels. She's leaving to go and find him, wherever he may be. I'm torn about whether I should support her, but I will wait and see what happens.

What with the Bishop's group gone, and now my sister... I'm rapidly losing the people I care about. What a way to start these pages.

Lighten-ing

Today I did what I usually do. I did my chores around the abbey. I even played with my cat for a while until he got exhausted. I figured since the Plaguelands have lightened somewhat I would go outside. This turned out to be a bad idea.

Roeth, a former scourgelord, decided to visit Tyr's Hand. To say that he frightens me is an understatement and we have met before when the Gauntlet had been sent to Northrend, as allies. Sir Drahkain also happened by and a quarrel ensued as Roeth continued to mock the people I cared for, who still happen to be missing. He called them, and myself hypocrites and generally poor company for the Bishop.  I restrained myself from yelling at him... even if I did yell, it probably wouldn't have done anything. Eventually I asked his forgiveness, as he said that he has 'grown tired' of us here.

I retreated back to the abbey and Sir Drahkain soon followed. We talked for a while and he was deeply offended by what had happened. He convinced me not to try and remedy what had been said by both parties. They've a right to their opinions, even if I don't agree with them. Roeth is a good friend to the Bishop and I would hate to have damaged their friendship because of some callous words.

Just as well, the group that left to fight hasn't returned yet. They must have succeeded, but I pray the victory wasn't bought with the blood of my friends.

March Against the Dark

The Bishop, and many members of the Gauntlet have left to face off against whatever it is that's causing the unnatural darkness in the Eastern Plaguelands. They have not returned for a couple of days now and I'm growing worried. Even when they fought in the necropolis they would return so that I and others might heal them.

I've tried to keep myself busy. I must have swept the abbey out four times by now. I even worked my way up to the belfry to take care of the cobwebs. Even with all this work, it seems that I can't escape my worry. It's so quiet here without them, and I fear the worst. So I rooted out an old journal and I've started to write in it. Maybe seeing my worries on paper will help me move past them.

May the Light see them through their trial and safely back home.