[N-RP] Evermore Entries

[Ralrush-steamwheedle-cartel]

This place does things to peoples minds. Not different from wards our witch doctor does back at the village, but this bad magic be everywhere. I been movin from cave to cave with different groups tryin to survive here, coordinate with other groups, but I see people buggin out every so often. Bad mojo here makes people crack.

I like the way the heads of mawsworn key-rings crack, tho. Somebody told me that there be good key-ring people flying around other parts of the Shadowlands, but at this rate, I dunno if I’m ever gonna get outta here. At least I figured a good way to catch the bad key-rings when they dive down near ground level. Squeezin their helmets with the heads inside be kinda soothin in a place like this.

[Mortend-steamwheedle-cartel]

I don’t understand what happened when Dulvarinn performed that ritual on the mountain… I guess a shaman or perhaps a druid might know. I just remember a sensation of great power - and that should have made me realize the ritual might have dire consequences. There is a correlation between the magnitude of power, and the cost of that power.

I will try to stay in touch with The Botany Band, and help them however I can.

Regarding the druid in the Shadowlands, I should ask John to keep an eye out for him, since he is there with the Ebon Blade.

[Uda-moonglade]

Uda sits near the table in her farmhouse in Westfall, writing her misery away.

after quite a few arrangements I managed to secure us a few possible missions, and the best part- they are into the twisting nether. I hope I might encounter my husband’s soul there, but I lose faith every single day that passes.

another note says the following:

I have led the first twisting nether expedition just to find my fellow botanists had broken into the eco-dome. I have quite the work ahead of me, those goblins won’t be easily convinced…

on final note lays upon the old wooden table, the paper’s edges burnt by what seems to be void magic. the writings seem to be in an unknown language and the ink is dripping down on the paper, simply saying:

איפה שלא תהיה, בעלי, אני אמצא אותך

[Mortend-steamwheedle-cartel]

Went to the Twisting Nether with Uda and The Botany Band this evening.

Uda started the evening by telling us demon hunters’ souls go to the Twisting Nether when they die (instead of going to the Shadowlands).

Even though Uda practically told us that two plus two equals four, I didn’ add it up until I was back in the Greenhouse:

Maybe Uda is planning on reuniting with her deceased husband in the Twisting Nether!

She also seemingly made a …shady deal with some shifty goblin…

[Ralrush-steamwheedle-cartel]

I dunno how much longer I can stay here in the Maw. I be gettin too used to it, and that scares me. Fightin the Mawsworn be gettin easier, just like scavenging for scraps of food. I find that I don’t eat or sleep as much here, like the others. They come and go, even a few not from Azeroth. I dunno how this place works.

Some wavy thing, lookin like an ethereal, told me that other mortals found a way to get outta here. I tried scouting to find them, but the two people I was with bugged out and fled. Now I gotta start all over again. And I gotta start before I keep gettin more comfy in this place.

[Mortend-steamwheedle-cartel]

A thought just occurred to me.

On my … adventures … around the - and, at times, in another - world, I have seen ghosts. Spectres. Apparitions, spirits…

Now that we know the Shadowlands is where souls go when someone dies… What are ghosts? Why are ghosts?

Something must anchor them to the realm of the living, but what?

Seems to me, someone clever should look into that…

[Ohru-moonglade]

We have returned, briefly, to Azeroth.
I did not manage to overcome the spectre in the memory mirror in Bastion. In my sleep, I see my father - and Roan. I recall things that I thought forgotten.
I try to hide it. My master once told me dwelling on the past is useless - but she is gone, and I am alone. I meditate on her teachings, and practice the drills she taught me. These help focus me.
But still my sleep is disturbed.
We return to those hallowed lands soon. Ursoc protect us all.

[Uda-moonglade]

Uda sits and thinks, putting her childhood in words, trying to convey the perfect emotions…struck by grief and sadness, she recalls her sadness, and writes the following:

at winter, my mom washed my head and said:“rainwater are good to a young girl’s face.”
at summer, she took the panties I put on a rope to dry in the sun and said
“it’s a shame strangers will see your panties”
(yet there were no strangers, a bunch of cows from here, and a blind sheperd from there)
at spring I would sing out loud,just for her to tell me “stop with this madness”
and I chase madness and Justice, since then, I fell in love with singing.
fall had nothing special for me.
between the seasons she used to say
“if a young girl sprouts wings,they shall be cut!” and “do not shame your sister near her friends”.
Between the seasons,I’ve learn how to fly.

[Ohru-moonglade]

Ardenweald.
We arrived here yesterday. It is the first time I have slept well and deeply since we arrived in the Shadowlands, and since I was confronted by my father’s spectre in the Bastion mirror.
I was given the honour of carrying a very small, damaged, wildseed - the denizens here explained that the wildseeds contain the souls of Wild Gods.
My grandfather taught me to take Ursoc’s strength to heart. His father before him was faithful, too. An’she and Mu’sha always felt less to me than Ursoc, Ursol, Ohn’ahra… it is the Wild Gods I owe my prayers to.
I only hope to find Ursoc. He has vanished from the Emerald Dream, despite my endless searching. Perhaps, he is resting here.
For now, I bide my time.

[Sharon-the-shatar]

The most profound proof of Sharon’s emotional turmoil is the fact that she’s left an entire page empty spare for a single note, which stands in direct opposition to her usual habit of overfilling every single sheet of her journal. The quill’s been used forcibly enough to tear through the paper here and there.

That’s it! I’m done! Sharon Wells is officially done with everyone’s [angry blotch of ink]

I’m SO sick and tired of secrets, veiled statements and cryptic nonsense. The next mysterious letter anyone hands me is going straight to the compost pile. Never again am I going in blind, not even for Dulvarinn. There’s a reason why I joined the BAND and not the HAND and it’s because I refuse to happily march right into the beast’s jaw. I’m a botanist! Not a diplomat, not a spy and sure as hell not a warrior!

The stinky Horde can solve its own stinky problems. If they have enough people to start a war then they have enough people to pluck a few flowers from their dumb cave.

A few pages later, a note in a slightly less aggressive handwriting says:

Should we advertise our group more to the Horde? The lectures are open to whoever wishes to join them, but spare for some frequent visitors and that one weird demon hunter who pops in and out of the Greenhouse when nobody is around I don’t think we have many Horde people who have our tabards. The Band is quite openly neutral, but I don’t think our numbers reflect that properly.

If we had more Horde members then maybe we would have an easier time operating in territory where the Alliance is not welcome?

[Morfinn-moonglade]

Damn it. You had one job. ‘Keep the attendants safe. Be a bodyguard. Guard their bodies so that no harm comes to them.’

Next thing I know, the relatively friendly dwarf has been ambushed by Scourge. I WAS LITERALLY CREATED to control undead!

Well, at least I was a little useful carrying the samples.

Now back to bodyguarding someone else.

[Sharon-the-shatar]

Long after the journey to the Plaguelands is concluded, a wrinkly and slightly waterlogged envelope is found on the ground in the corner of the Greenhouse. Judging from the marks, it spent some time crushed under something heavy—like, say, a potted plant. According to the stamps it had first arrived in the Greenhouse a week ago and apparently spent all that time blissfully forgotten…

Dear Botanists,

I am writing this note in advance, because I know our new lecturer might come as a bit of a shock and I don’t want you people freaking out when you see her in the Greenhouse. Or, well, when you see her in general. I will come to the Greenhouse to properly introduce her to you, but I wanted to send this letter first just so you know what to expect.

So, she is a walking corpse. Yep, you read that right. A very stinky walking corpse. I know. Look, I really, really know. Nobody likes the walking dead. Especially not after the mess they made of a good chunk of Azeroth.

I suspect you might already be reeling and wondering whether or not I’ve chugged down our entire stock of dreamshroom extract, but hear me out. The way things are now, our options might be quite limited when it comes to navigating this fragile post-war reality. To have a resident lecturer from a traditionally Horde race would make it easier for us to deal with faction-related problems we might run into—like that crazy Orgrimmar thing Dulvarinn wanted us to do. She comes with excellent credentials, has strong connections to both the Conclave and the Argent Crusade, and seems to be very dedicated to rebuilding the burnt bridges now that this Zombie Queen is gone. I want to give her a chance, and I would like the rest of you to do the same.

Oh, and since she’s dead it means she can safely handle the toxic plants because it’s not like she can get any deader, right? Okay, fine, maybe she can, but you know what I mean. That means we finally have someone to re-pot that terrifying Tanarian Tearleaf, and why do we even have such a deadly plant? At this point I’m starting to think that the local mages leave abandoned plants on our doorstep and Kuhuine brings them in when nobody’s looking.

S. Wells

The author of the letter definitely did not arrive at the Greenhouse. So… Where is she?

[Chunknorriz-moonglade]

Note to self: Don’t ask an orc for advice when she says she has plans. Apparently her honor obligated her to stay and help me, even though she very much wanted to be somewhere else. Her internal conflict was kind of both a blessing and a curse. Blessing, because it made her a little less focused in our sparring session, and curse, for much the same reason… Where she would normally just spar with me to gauge my skills, this evening she really didn’t hold back. After she beat me, healed me, and gave me some actual advice - she walked off in a bad mood.

[Ohru-moonglade]

Much has changed in the time since I last set quill to paper. Ursoc is gone. But in the hallowed forests of Ardenweald, I found my grandfather Braego, and my brother, Roan. So much time was lost between us, so much I had lost. I did not believe it possible, but I am learning what love is.
I will fight for my family. It feels so strange to but those words into my mind. I have never had family before.
But I truly mean it.

[Pawlina-moonglade]

I met a sorceress in Pandaria.

It seems she knows the wicked witch - well, knows of her, anyway.

I didn’t trust her, of course, even though she claims to know my brother. She said she wants to free a friend of hers, the latest victim of the witch’s nasty mind control magic.

We followed some clues indicating dark magic in Pandaria, but eventually the signs pointed us elsewhere, and we journeyed to Kul Tiras to investigate more recent events.

[Mortend-steamwheedle-cartel]

Well, that was unexpected…
Just as I expected.

It was not unexpected that the Botanists would be … skeptical … of my idea.

After all, when I reluctantly admitted to being affiliated with the Black Harvest, they knew I was not inexperienced with fel, and the Botany Band has had some …bad… experiences with fel.

I was glad of their company, among other things because of their extensive knowledge of botany and some other very useful skills.

We lost a Pandaren and a Forsaken for a while, on our way to Deadwind Pass, but it turned out that they were safe and sound waiting where we agreed, while the rest of us were worriedly looking for them. After all, Duskwood is not a nice place to get lost - and I’m not sure the people of Darkshire would be very tolerant of a Forsaken, even though she did have a shockingly Light demeanor…

My fellow Expeditionists helped keep our group safe from big, hostile spiders, and… Oh, damn it, I forgot the healthstones! Well, we didn’t need them…

When we arrived at the tree where the decomposing, mutilated corpses were hanging from nooses, there was a bit of chaos since no one - myself included - had a clear idea of why we were there.

A clever dwarf surmised, to the extent a plant feels anything, it might dislike being used as a tool for murder.

From there, another smart person (I don’t remember who) conjectured that a restless spirit from the hangings could possibly inhabit the tree.

Our on-site priest (whose appearance was, mildly put, deceiving!) … uh, “scanned” the tree, and found that it did in fact contain a spirit!

Then, before any of us could say “spirit”, the shaman of our group had somehow whisked the spirit out of the dead tree, and into a… stone of some kind. Not exactly a soulstone… Not the kind I am used to, at least.

The shaman and the priest debated what to do with the spirit, but in the end, the priest took it with her - in the shaman’s stone, wrapped in … bear hairs and some linen… to keep it safe and comfortable in a place where the Light shines brightly.

Definitely not what I expected when I walked into the Greenhouse yesterday, but it did feel like some good came out of our endeavors.

[Merlothien-the-shatar]

Light damn it, I hate this feeling!

Not the dull ache in my entire body, and the utter exhaustion, that I feel after being pounded to pulp, and healed, repeatedly…

Well, to be honest, that too.

But the worst part is the dreadful feeling that I let myself be tricked into doing something that, in hindsight, I really shouldn’t have done.

I hate being used as someone’s stupid, gullible pawn.

I suspect this will turn out to be an even worse idea than that flaming stupid blood pact I did a while back… And Mel will greatly enjoy rubbing it in my face.

[Mardyn-the-shatar]

Well, I think that was the scariest Evening at the Forge I have ever attended.

We were just chatting, about magical beards, elemental magic making statues and sculptures come to life, the Shadowlands, and transferring souls…

Then suddenly, the worgen says he likes to eat paladins!

There were several minutes where I feared for my life, and I was very glad I was wearing my armor - just by chance, since I went straight from a patrol to the gathering - but finally, the worgen explained that, apparently, ‘paladins’ can be some sort of bread meal…

When the evening waned, I bade them all a polite farewell - even the worgen, and i went and had three beers for supper, to calm my nerves.

Sure enough, I woke up drenched in sweat, from a dream of the worgen covering me in butter and jam, and starting to eat me…

[Merlothien-the-shatar]

Well, fel and hell, and baby souls to sell…

That went from bloody awful, to somehow a whole lot worse.

So, our contact used some sort of Maw-looking Death magic. That was a bad sign. But I try to keep an open mind. Death knights use death magic too, and warlocks and demon hunters use fel magic (hell, I did it myself once upon a time), and they are our allies. Powerful and useful allies.

Then, after we put our flaming lives on the line for this guy to get his hands on some ‘powerful artifact’, he shows his true colors. And they’re bloody ugly. I mean Old God, slimy tentacle-face ugly.

I finally change my mind about our “friend”, and decide I want to ram my big, blazing sword up his…

But of course, now that we got him the stupid artifact, he is empowered to the point that anything we try on him will be like throwing pebbles at a kodo… If we’re lucky, he ignores us, and if not… he will crush us.

If we survive this, I might actually let Mel tattoo me…

[Lìllían-steamwheedle-cartel]

I finally met the Botany Band.
They seem nice.
Said they ‘could use’ a druid like me, which surprised me, as I expected most of them to be druids, with the ‘nature and preservation’ impression I got from reading about them and their projects.

Their green clothing looked very nice, I’ll try to get more green things myself.

And keep working on my botanical skills, I guess…

I look forward to exploring the world beyond Kul Tiras.
I have read and heard about so many incredible and exciting places, and my homeland just doesn’t feel as much like ‘home’ anymore, now that my parents are gone…