[N-RP] The Wayfinders

Travel Book Entry: 9th May

Dear book,

We’ve been in Pandaria for a little bit now. Currently in halfhill, enjoying the surroudings, I’m sure things are bound to pick up in intensity at some point in the future, but right now we’re having a moment of calm. Me and Aurelle have been talking a lot about our future and I’m feeling more hopeful then I have in a while. I’ve been keeping up my training, working mostly on my footwork, trying to keep the edge sharp.

I’ve been reminded about a saying, everything returns to the means. That means when something has been really good, it will eventually fade, and when something has been really bad, it will eventually get better. If things are good right now, then it means darkness is coming. I’m not going to be unprepared. We visited a few daycares and orphanages last week during Children’s week, it feels weird because it feels like you’re window shopping with someones frail life, when you yourself aren’t necessarily in a good position to take on the responsibility of someones life while also continueing your work, I’ve been thinking a lot about whether or not it’s time for me to take a longer departure from our day-to-day activities in order to focus on my life and my marriage.

Wayfinders are doing well I think. We took care of faerie darter babies last week, and people are working together to get around here, we’re even meeting new people and fellow travelers from other parts of the world. I never realized, but I should have guessed that Pandaria is well wandered, with all its unique beauty.

Lastly, something strange happend during the last time rift. It fell towards me, everything became a swirl, and when I opened my eyes, everyone had one or another impression and expression on them. Fira and Eijo had seen myself and Aurelle putting flowers by their tree. They’d seen me as a kid, at my weakest, when sickness ran through my body. And they saw my final hour. I’m sorry that I know now that even if it was for a few moments, Everyone got to look at me as I drew my last breathe. That’s not a image I can shield them from now. I am not sure what I’m supposed to feel about the implications of it, but I’m going to make sure they don’t have to see that again.

I guess that’s everything off my chest Book.

Goodnight. -Cristana Silverthorn.

We’re in Pandaria, Halfhill, enjoying some time before things get gloomier.

Travel Book: May 27th

Hello, book.

It’s me again. Shark.

Today we made the journey up to Kun-lai. We haven’t seen snow yet, but I think it’s something to look forward to as we head further towards the temple.

We spent a few days away from Halfhill and headed into Krasarang, following the aid of a member of the Temple of the Red Crane. Krasarang is beautiful, book. Unlike Nazmir, it seems so much lusher and livelier and there’s not a sense of dread lingering within the thick air.

They tell me both swamps fell to the whims of dark magic once, Nazmir a deep rot and Krasarang a being called the Sha, a force I will never meet, supposedly eradicated before I’d left stasis. It’s strange that both swamps are so similar in their histories but so different in almost every way. I hope I get to see many more of Azeroth’s lands, each more different than the last.

We found a foot print. A huge one in the Wilds. The others think it could be the return of an old enemy, an enemy from before my time with them. I’ve seen the effects of this enemy on others but to see even a single footprint and know the scale of the foe…

I’m not looking forward to meeting this enemy if he’s here in these peaceful lands, but I will always fight beside the Wayfinders.

I should go, book. I ought to check my crab traps and hope we can have a good breakfast after that long climb.

Things are starting to look a little gloomier but nothing could possibly go wrong on the Wayfinders’ vacation. Right?

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Travel Book Entry: 14th June

Hello book,

I’m writing in you this morning after a bad night. We were investigating some missing grummles on the paths of Kun-lai when we came across a scene. There was blood everywhere, a broken wagon, and footsteps away that led to more blood. While we were investigating we felt the approach of shadow. From the wilderness of the south came a horde of rampaging, rabid hozen. They were completely out of their mind, and they had bite marks across their bodies.

We initially tried to take them out without hurting them but they were so aggressive we had to use lethal force. A large majority of them were ensnared, and then put into time stasis which gave us enough time. At the same time, Shark was bitten. Vesper was able to cleanse them, but only after me and Aliothe had kept them in place, their behaviour was turning aggressive, flighty and bitey, snapping their jaws after Vespers feet.

At the same time I was listening to words being spoken between Kyrzen and Kelduril. They’d found a hole on the large hozen, which was infected with the same magical affliction that had caused the rabidness. As shark was cleansed, we tried to cleanse a hozen by light, and then Rua our shaman vulpera tried with more natural magic. But both told me that the creature was not fixable, because it had been mutated, re-developed into another state of aggressiveness. Not only that, but the hozen showed signs of transforming into what I can only assume to be a void spawn.

If Gravehide is behind this, it might be a ploy for him to create a local army or havoc. I will make you pay for every organism you have infected, by every stone I will pull from your body.

That’s enough for now Book.

  • Cristana Silverthorn.

Vacation is over. The cumulative struggle against a foe that has been a thorn in the Wayfinders side is coming to a cataclysmic finalé

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I’d love to get in touch with you guys to talk about potential recruitment, is that best to do in-game? ^^

Absolutely. It helps me a lot if you can send a letter to my characters listed, Crístana as an example. It lets me put your name on my friendlists or it lets you divulge a discord name in a safer comfortable way.

Travel Book Entry: 7th July

Hello, little book. I hope we will be friends.

Something happened yesterday. The others went to chase an ancient dragon who has been pursuing them - pursuing us. Gravehide, they call him, and they speak his name bitterly. They say he is responsible for the shadow-plague we found in Pandaria. I remember the eyes of the infected hozen. I am glad that the source of that curse is gone now.

Everyone is alive, and no one is very badly harmed, but I can tell they are very tired in spirit. It is always so when facing a foe who uses life so carelessly. Those trampled in his path did not need to die.

I stayed behind this time to prepare food and medicine for when they returned from the battle. We have needed every bit of it. I hope things will be calmer now.

They brought a dead dragon with them, also. Not Gravehide - whatever is left of him now rots in Deepholm, as it should - may the Stonemother find use for his corpse. The one they brought back is a red dragon whom they say they’ve met before. A friend, or at least an ally, captured and turned into a weapon.

I think this grieves them most. There have been few people so far that we could not help, in some way, but this shadow-plague is vicious by design. I saw the corpse - there was nothing to be done but to let him go, and hope that death is kinder to him than life has been. He has been returned to his kin. Maybe he will become flowers.

I continue to tend wounds as best I can. I have not yet fully explored what I can do, and I think it may be a while until I fully understand my state as it is. It is enough, anyway. I can help people to not die before they should; with this I am content.

Good night, little book. I will come to speak with you again.

Aliothe

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Travel Book Entry: 22nd July

Hello book,

A dark cloud has rested above my head for more then a year now. That cloud was the antics, planning and plots of Gravehide. The Wayfinders have often found ways to help the ones who have gone off the beaten path, in finding a trail that provides them meaning. We see people from many sorts come in, and become something else with every step.

Gravehide was set in stone from the first day. We didn’t even know that the challenges we were facing had been put in place by him until we were already too deep. As we stood at the top of the snowy peaks on Cranagosa’s home, a voice like a thousand boulders falling down.

I’d have nightmares, dreams where I was settled in a little lodging in Winterspring with my wife and our child, when a draconic shape would block out the sun, our daughter would call out to Daera, but it would not be Daera that came.

When we stood in Deepholm and caught our breathes against the gauntlet of battles in the realm of the earth, I wanted to be happy, but I couldn’t get myself to be it. Something so cruel in this world had caused such fear in me that I simply had to eradicate it, I could not let it live aslong as I lived, and something, someone had to die before either life moved on.

I hope that I never have to find myself in that kind of situation again. I hope fate lets me be me, and not who I have to sometimes be. But that is how the dice rolls.

The world is brighter now, but for how long? I’ll try to dive right in and enjoy it as much as I can. It feels good to sleep in my bed again.

See you later book.

-Cristana Silverthorn.

Wayfinders are going off summer break, having beaten their long time rival and are looking for new adventure.

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Travel Book Entry: 9th August

Hello book,

It’s been a difficult couple of weeks, to be honest. Eijo’s writing for me again - I can’t write in Common, but he can. When leaving Pandaria, a message in the ocean asked for help from nowhere else than Vol’dun. Eijo and I almost went, months ago, when we were in Nazmir, but it just didn’t feel right.

Truth be told, I stopped him. I wasn’t ready to face that just yet. I was scared. I wish I could say it was different now, but it wasn’t. I was still scared. I still thought Vol’dun was the same desert I grew up in. The same desert I left, all those years ago, ruled by a monster - a slaver. A self-proclaimed Emperor. Emperor of what? A bunch of ruins and sand.

I wasn’t alone, though - and the Wayfinders like to help when we can. We weren’t just going to abandon those in need because I was afraid. We stopped to the west, off the coast, and headed inland. We crossed paths with a fairly judgemental Vulpera with red fur, Tirau, who skirted some of our questions but pointed us in the direction that needed help. A settlement of people in some ruins - even a few humans, among the Sethrak, Trolls, and Vulpera - were cut off by Krolusks that had migrated too far south when they shouldn’t be. These Krolusks ambushed us before we made contact - one got me pretty bad. If not for Daera, it would’ve pulled me under the sands. While the Empire may now be gone, some things in Vol’dun, like the wildlife, never change.

We gave them supplies after clearing the path to them, and a few days later, Tirau found us again. He led us to a small settlement by an oasis, somewhat fortified, and led by a familiar woman. She had fur like mine, though a bit faded, more grey. She’d seen better days, clearly - her right ear was missing a chunk, and her right eye, well, doesn’t have vision. I recognized her straight away, though - Eria. My mother. Still alive, all this time, when I assumed she wasn’t.

We didn’t exactly get any time to talk, though. A tide of Ranishu came from the north, but they fought strangely - trying to go past us, as if they were fleeing something, it turned out. Before we could properly figure that out, a massive sandworm revealed itself. I’ve never seen one that big - and between the size of it, and the potency of the acid it used, it was a difficult fight. Luckily, we kept the settlement safe, in the end, but the signs were troubling.

We helped resupply those at the oasis, and the following week, set out into the desert to find the source of these strange migrations. We found a portal to the void, which we closed - the source, perhaps, of why the Krolusks, and other things, had fled. We also found, beneath an ancient pyramid, some ruins with some kind of old god mold? I’ll admit, it’s beyond me, but the others think it’s safe. I’m not so sure, but I reluctantly trust them.

I was angry at Eria for a lot of things - truth be told, I still am - but I think we’re on good enough terms now. We’re supposed to be leaving tomorrow, but I don’t know if I’m ready yet. Eijo found an old speaker to spirits last night, and managed to speak to his father’s spirit, if only briefly. We had to bargain with a Loa to do so, something that was hardly easy, but I’d like to think we handled ourselves well enough. I made a promise to give some water and medicine - a promise I fulfilled this morning. I think later, I might take some people to visit Dazar’alor’s market, to get a few things for mother and the others that live here - to help them thrive like we never had a chance to, growing up in such a harsh place. The wildlife is the same as it always was, but without the Empire, things are nicer here.

There’s so much more to write about - well, for Eijo to write about for me - but I think I have to stop here. I have to ask mother if we can use the settlement’s wagon again later, and then we’ll need to get ready, and actually go.

Thank you for letting us write in you. I really hope my friends didn’t hate Vol’dun too much.

-Fira

We’re leaving Vol’dun at last tomorrow, hopefully for nicer - perhaps even greener - pastures. It’s probably going to take weeks for everyone to get rid of all the sand…

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Bloodoar’s Escape.

Bloodoar had been enjoying his time actually being around the Wayfinders for a bit, but a notice comes in from the Kirin Tor of the plans to move Dalaran, so he sends notice to whoever is on the ground in Hearthglen, and then teleports to Dalaran. Walking through the streets, Bloodoar finds the Wayfinder offices here, and he begins to prepare the place for moving. Hammering in shelves, putting delicate things in protective bubbles, clearing up the paperwork, sorting out the files, and finding the lock and key for the doors, to lock them in.

There, he sat down in his chair. This had been done before, he’d been there for many of the trips across the globe. His least favorite one was when Dalaran was above Orgrimmar for a time. He wondered where they were going next, his allegiances with the Wayfinders while pleasant and substantial work, had left him less time to gossip it up with the others. Bloodoar eventually found the coffee machine, and started to grind some fresh beans. When the beans were grinded, he put them up in the machine, and started the process of running water through, down into his favorite cup for some nice coffee.

He felt the arcane surge for a moment, and knew it was about to happen. A capital city, his capital city, wandering across the world in an instant. He closed his eyes, felt the electricity and then, sound clattered across the room as the city settled in its new location. The coffee was done now, so he took his cup, added a bit of milk to it, and started to stir.

As he sat down, starting to gently sip, he heard something from outside. A scream. That was odd. Opening up the curtains to let the light in, Bloodoar looked across the fountain bazaar, admittedly from a distance as the Wayfinders hadn’t been able to find peak localization, this was close enough to the center of the city.

Bloodoar’s eyes were transfixed though. He was seeing a horde of nerubian’s begin to settle, right there on the street, and begin to attack guards, trap civilians and begin to haul them back towards a rift. A crypt lord emerged, and began to give orders, as the nerubian spread out across Dalaran, Bloodoar rushed for the door, grabbing his staff.

He’d exit into the street, and it wasn’t long before a flying mite would come towards him. He splashed it with his still very warm coffee, before letting an arcane missile fly. He gets down the staircase to be met by a guard:”You have to move to Krasus Landing for evacuation!” He screamed, readying his sword for an encroaching nerubian. “I can help, what do you need?” Bloodoar replied, before arcane rose around the young mage, and pushed towards the oncoming enemy, as its body was crushed by an arcane surge.

“The bakers, they can’t get out but I have to keep this road clear!” said the guard, looking relieved he didn’t have to tangle up with their clawed adversary, but that was all the invitation that Bloodoar needed. He knew the place, he loved to get his bagels from there. He turned around on a pivot, running through the cobblestone road, until he saw what looked like a cobwebbed door.

They had sealed their way of escape, and he could see a large hole in the top of the glass paneled windows on the second story in which the nerubian had wished to come and collect them. Bloodoar was up there in a flash, as arcane teleported him to the rim of the window, he was able to push his body through the broken glass, entering what looks like the baker’s living space.

Navigating through the house was easy, because he could hear the screams of the bakers as they were getting trapped beneath. Stumbling down the staircase, he landed himself in the middle of their shop, where a large nerubian was webbing up two half elven civilians. “Help us!” They called out to him, which made the nerubian look his way. There was not much room here for a fight, so Bloodoar had to think quickly. Grabbing his coffee mug, the object in which he has slowly and meticulously changed into an arcane focus for himself, was also reinforced by metal studs.

Drawing upon it in a moment of desperation, arcane imbues into the coffee mug and he’s able to crack it across the nerubian’s face as he pivots and runs along the side of the room. This allows him enough time to cast a clearcasted arcane missile, which barrels into the body of the spiderfolk. But it turns its head, and a ball of web escapes, flying directly to Bloodoars leg, pinning him against a wooden beam.

Panic. The nerubian closes in the space faster he could have anticipated, and two pairs of lacerating claws run over his body. He’d come straight from Hearthglen, and so was still plated up on some points of his body, but the cloth parts of the armor didn’t hold up long. He centered the electric charge of the arcane into his midst, before expelling it as an arcane explosion, rocking the house, releasing his leg, and pushing the nerubian back.

He had more room here to work with then when he was standing in the stairwell. He reached for his staff, runes and arcane lettering began to swash through the room, becoming its sole source of light, the spells flew out of his hand in rapid succession as he let arcane blasts crash against the nerubian’s carapace. One, two, three. Looking weaker after the third one, each growing in strength, Bloodoar pointed the end of his staff directly for the nerubian’s midst, and a barreling projectile pushed out and flew through the room spiraling around itself in two central orbs, its impact sent the spiderfolk into the opposite wall, blood splatters and gore.

“You did it”. Said one of the bakers with a softly haunted expression, as Bloodoar was soon by the side, cutting through the web. “The entire city is under attack, you need to evacuate now while you’ve got the time. Make your way to Krasus landing”. Bloodoar was able to finally free them, and blew a hole in one of the streetview windows, dragging them out into the street.

The smell of blood was abundant. There were casualties on both sides, and one half of the city had now been completely blocked by the invading enemies. Bloodoar had to drag the bakers through the left side pathway around the fountain plaza, up the street towards the landing.

Something heavy crashed against the wall next to them, and rubble fell down around them. A few cinder blocks bounced off his body, hitting like hammers, fatiguing his resources, he was finally able to get the bakers to the mass teleportation circle, hopefully to be safe.

“They’re pulling everyone out, Alleria’s staying behind to find Khadgar, you’re ordered to get out of here”. One of the guards gave instructions to the mages or guards that were regrouping on the landing. Well, that counted him too then. The lacerated Bloodoar moved into the circle, and a moment later, found himself standing on a foreign beach, looking up at dalaran. For a moment, one could consider it normal, except for the host of terrible flying creatures that flew above it.

That soon didn’t matter much however, as a moment later, from the citadel itself, a great purple bubble began to consume the entire place, his home. When it reached its apex, it withdrew into a singular point, pulling the rest of the city with it in the motion, and then it blew, pushing everything, everyone and all out, scattering the home of the mages into gravel for a coarse road. In his agonizing emotional state, Bloodoar was able to form one last spell, as it began to wisp around him, as he teleported himself across the world to the one place he could think of. Back to the Wayfinders, they had to know.

Bloodoar barely crawled himself out of the portal he’d made unto the soft grasses of heathglen center. He was quickly found by Shark, Ithigos and Jenna, and eventually taken into the keep for proper treatment.

The Wayfinders are moving into the War Within with a good number of running storylines and good company. We’re currently on break to let people enjoy the expansion, but will be fresh out after the 8th. We’re nearing capacity for members, and an announcement about recruitment options may follow.

We’re officially picking up events again this week after the launch break!

Travel Book Entry: 9th September.

Hello book,

What does it mean to overcome adversity? What parts of the world are designed to be against us? Is it our physical enemies, trying to take our land, our lives or the things we care about? Is it the intense emotions of love and loss that can cripple us when the greatest foes couldn’t? What darkness clings to us that seems specifically tailored for us to overcome?

I feel a light and a darkness coursing through our world. A grand play is being spun, and we’re individual participants, we all have our role. I’m the leader, I’m supposed to have everything under control, and yet so many times, things crumble beneath my feet, and it is hard to pull myself back up, because I have to pull others back up. I think the danger is, that others expect me to need the same, but I don’t let myself have it. I fall into a hole, and I have to crawl myself out of it, because if I don’t, I am not worthy of the things that I own. If I’m not strong, I cannot be loved. If I’m weak, others will see the weak and lose faith in me.

Trust is a powerful thing, and I’ve lost trust multiple times, multiple people. They’ve acted in a way that I had not expected, I thought they were something else, and yet in these moments, their inability is not something I contribute to them, it is something I contribute to myself. It is my failure that they wronged my trust, and not the other way around.

Now, I have two people in the midst of my heart suffering a threat to their existance, my heart is stilled and I’ve got people missing, travelers caught in a great catastrophe, is it all my fault this has happend to them? Did I not talk them into the right path, did I forget to warn them of danger?

My conclusion is no. It’s not my fault someone acts against my trust. It’s not my fault, that fates unprecedented land on my friends, it is not my fault I didn’t predict tragedy, it is not my fault that I can be weak. What does it mean overcome adversity? It means that sometimes you have to defeat a foe, keep your emotions in check, see the light in the darkness, and sometimes it’s to let someone else see, that you can be weak too.

The world is facing a great darkness, but like night gives way to the day, I will carry the torches with my Wayfinders into the dawn. We will carry the torches.

Cristana Silverthorn.

We’re in Hearthglen, uncovering a shadow that has crept itself within our midst. As it stance on recruitment, if everyone currently queued to enter do, then we will be closed for the time being in order to serve appropiate attention to each and every member we can.

We started in the beginning of Dragonflight, and we’ve developed and grown so much since that time. It feels like a new season, and I think it will be just as good.

Travel Book Entry: 8th October.
Hello Book.

I haven’t written in you for a long time, but a lot has happened. I think someone once said it was a good idea to write your thoughts on parchment.

Everything feels different now. Kyrzen and I are unwell, not with a fever or an upset stomach, but with some rancid that crawls under the skin. Something that whispers. It was nice at first. It understood my frustrations, how I felt like nobody cared, they were too busy with their own feelings to talk to me. It felt like it understood me when no one else did. I felt seen.

Now, I wish I hadn’t been seen. It makes me scared of a child. A child, who is sweet and bright. How do you tell a child that you keep seeing them as a monster? You simply cannot. I hope she knows I care for her still, I hope they both know. I hope their father recovers well too, to be infected with something so foul and still keep a brave face for your daughter. I can’t imagine the toll, but he wears a brave face well.

I envy how well he wears a brave face.

Being back by the sea has helped. I missed the sea. Fishing keeps the hand busy just enough to keep overwhelming thought away. Though, time marches on regardless of how much or how little I think on it. One more season and it will have been a whole year since I started learning to be a person. I still haven’t figured it out.

You’ll be the first to know when I do, book. I’ll write pages and pages in you, about what it means to be a person.

I don’t know what else I should write, only dour thoughts remain, those thoughts on sickness. So, we will say goodbye.

Thank you, book. For listening.

Shark.

A lot of feelings but Tanaris waits for no one!

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Travel Book Entry: 30th October

Hi book,

Wow, it’s my first time writing in you. I’ve seen some of the others write in here before-- didn’t expect my turn to come so soon. Many of the Wayfinders have such lovely handwriting.

We’ve been in Tanaris and Feralas for a while now. We came because of the compass-- it led us to a few memories of our friends. It was a unique experience, to be quite frank. To be honest, when I signed up for the Wayfinders, I did not expect to see so much. I haven’t done this much traveling and sightseeing in years. Not that I’m complaining-- it’s been great.

We came across a few Arathi in Tanaris and helped them along the way. They say their home is underground and lit by a “star”, called Beledar. I’d like to see this Beledar, and it sounds like I may soon-- Cristana said we’re headed straight to Khaz Algar. Isn’t that exciting? I’ve only heard tales of the ongoing efforts there. I’d like to meet more Earthen and Arathi.

Then we went to the steampools in Feralas and carved pumpkins to decorate our Hallow’s End party happening tomorrow. Now THAT I’m looking forward to. I haven’t been to a Hallow’s End party in years. I hope it’ll compare to the parties I’ve been to in Brill, haha. I’ll end it here, because I don’t want to write too much. I have to get ready for training soon as the sun is about to come up. Don’t tell Vesper but today I’ve prepared spicy shrimp. Heh.

See you book!
Howell Rotcask

Tomorrow is our Hallow’s End party! Soon the Wayfinders will find themselves in Khaz Algar, very very exciting.

2 Likes

Dear book

I think I’ve lost my direction again, I feel like I’m just meadering once more. I was close to feeling a sense of finality but now the doors have opened once more. I don’t know how I’m supposed to spend my hours. I can only do what feels right to the people around me, but I don’t have a lot to give.

I’m empty.

When I spoke to the deathspeaker in Ashenvale, I mentioned that I had a warden teacher, and they winced. Their loved one that they had sang about just earlier that day, had been one. They talked about how, everything that path requires, drains the life out of you. Is that really the case? Is it impossible to overcome this adversity, become the darkness without it devouring you?

I’m surrounded by shadows, and they’re beginning to call me names. Little sweet nothings, lingering on the wind. But I know I’m not afflicted, only by a cough and a slight dizziness, I was once so certain I had to change in order to be able to defend my loved ones and now I don’t know who to love. How can you sit in a room of people and feel alone?

We’ve arrived in Dornogal, and the place is beautiful. The earthen home is not just rock, granite and concrete, it’s overflowing with life, flowers, bushes and trees. We’ve set up office, and so far they’ve helped a grave caretaker, and a group of kobolds who needed to find their friend.

We’ve also been updated on the conditions of Kyrzen and Shark, and the Multitudes. The staff fragment that appeared at Cera’s death, is a piece of a larger artifact that can save them, by purging the Multitudes out of them so you can kill it. Now, I find myself reading newspapers from around the world, just to find a glimmer of something that looks strange, a part of the Multitudes activity.

That’s it for now book, see you soon.

-Cristana Silverthorn.

We’re in Dornogal, seeing the new world and finding new paths. Recruitment is back open again, so contact me if you wish to come along.

We remain in Dornogal for the moment, exploring the isle with a brief detour to the Ringing Deeps.

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“Where do I start? I think it’s easier if I just take it a moment at a time. The world is a revolving door, reports come in about things hither and thither. I sort out one problem and another springs on my desk like a daring jungle cat. I can’t even sort out my own thoughts, much less the expected unpredictable nature of my life. What I know is that life will come at you fast and you simply have to manage it to your best ability.

We’re making preparations now to dive deep within the crust to a land known as Hallowfall. It’s a place of marvel, I’ve been told, with a great crystal shining in the top of the world there, pretending to be the sun. If a population could live beneath the ground like that, fending off what is to them an endless empire of terrible Nerubians that seem determined to crash upon their walls, I think the fervour they exercise is what has kept them in it. It may prove a bit much when they’re met with the lesser extremes of existence.

Wayfinder life continues on as it always has. We have gained new faces that walk with us, and some we were familiar with have gone away, to find their own place in the horizon. I will continue to rally together the ones that hold to my belief. My enduring spirit has been tested but not broken. I’ll keep walking til my lungs give out on me.”

-Cristana Silverthorn.

Leather boots walk across hard ground as a small shape makes its way through a goblin home. Though the goblins aren’t of high stature, the doorframes and the hallways have been made inexplicably large. The reason for that is soon revealed as instead of bruisers standing guard at the doors, a set of machines - mechanical constructs custom built to the preferences of this establishment - give this particular home an intimidating chrome finish.

“Beringston, officer of the South Sector Unit Five. Here to report on the Ambassador.”

The leather boots stop in front of a large mechanical body that stands by an ornate gate. A bright purple glow slowly moves through the golem’s body until it reaches the two visors. A flat horizontal laser scanner then sweeps over Beringston for a few anticipatory moments before a hum ruminates through the golem’s machinery and it replies:

”Identified. Cause for entry, pending.”

The golem stands up straight. Arcane lightning can be seen flashing in its interior compartment before its front instrument board glows green.

“Accepted. Entry into crown chamber permitted.”

It then shifts to the side and places a massive mechanical hand on a circular disk on the gate, which lights green, and the gate opens by itself.

Beringston doesn’t look up as he wanders into the crown chamber, intimidated by the idea of large mechanical henchmen. He slips on in to look up at the central desk where a goblin - if you could call him that, with mechanical ears, legs and one arm, and part of his face augmented - is tinkering with a large arm that is laying across the desk. Two extra mechanical arms emerging from his back hold it still, their clampers able to make it almost all the way around the object. This individual first looks up from his tinkering when Beringston finally clears his throat.

“Sir, we have received all of the shipments from that arcane city crash site, the one designated Dalaran. There was a delay in one of them. A courier team got crushed by rampant skardyn, a populace of shadow-corrupted earthen within the Ringing Deeps. We were informed by this from a foreman on site, trade company. He’d been told by a group of wanderers.”

“You’re yet to talk about the reason you’re here. I know about the shipments. I’m currently using those materials,” the tinker says with a soft, droll tone before placing an arcane crystal into the arm, his tinker arms grabbing two large switches on either side of the module and twisting. The central viewable compartment begins to spin faster and faster until the arcane crystal goes in flux and runs a power stream through the object.

“The ambassador, sir - he tested your arcane adapter on one of the older models and it worked, but shortly after he sent that report, his signature went missing. Intelligence says he’s been spotted being taken by the ‘Kirin Tor’.

“And how did they get their hands on him?” the tinker says, looking slowly up to Beringston.

“The foreman said he might have told those wanderers where the ambassador is.” Beringston looked on warily.

“Get that foreman for me, free the ambassador, and get me the names of the interlopers.”

The tinker reached up to grab a pair of goggles and lowered them down over his eyes, his left mechanical one integrated with them automatically. He sneers:

”It costs a lot to deal with Felix Rocketspur.”

“Johan!” called Wifnelgi. “I see shore!” the young woman’s voice called out as the two ships braved across the waves to land upon ground.

The gentle rolling hills would have been a welcoming glow if it wasn’t for the dark of night. It did not take long for the Arathi to find themselves a little quaint town for shelter, warmth, and food. Alas, the same shadow some of them had noticed following them through the waves eventually slowly stalked up the shores behind them as the group crested the hill to get to Fort Daelin.

The shadow stood monolithic on its hind legs. It lowered itself down to balance on all fours. The body was roughly human, but the arms were too long, and spikes like obsidian glass sprang from its joints. Two yellow eyes watched the group disappear into the horizon before its own body began to twist and shudder, becoming smaller, smaller, until it no longer inhabited its own form, and a set of tracks followed into the darkness as a new curse made itself at home upon the soil.

Welcome to 2025 and happy birthday to the Wayfinders, we’re turning three! It’s about this time they start running around the house, being the loudest, playing little people. That seems about right to me, except we’ve done that for as long as I know.

Let’s make it a good time.

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The hollows of Hallowfall are a source of solace in the face of recent actions for Kyrzen. Again and again, he plays back in his head what he did –

A rush of fury–
The sickly-sweet whisper of an entity that insists death is the only repentance for crimes committed–
The guilt of a sin past performed and the unwillingness to simply let others achieve such vices–
A hand clasped about a pale throat and the aching pain of an inconsequential struggle–
An unfaltering rift that refuses to be illuminated by the region’s crystal, bends that light about it into an accursed halo, an angelic missive to the gods for forgiveness of what had to be done, HAD to be done–

He shudders and looks down at his hands, wringing over his wrists. He could feel the void eat away at him under the flesh.

I die in parts, piece by piece. Cell by cell. Why does everything that we live for die, while our pain and our sins get to be immortal?

A hand clenches into a fist, yellow scales growing taut over flesh as he thinks.

Is it justice to look my own sin in the eye and deem it righteous to snip it in the bud?

An exhale leaves the dracthyr’s maw as he stares down at his digits, purple-black wisps of corrupt power emanating off his fingers that float away like miniature clouds.

I don’t know.

They were a corrupt captain, I promise!

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Hey there, are you guys recruiting still?

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Hey, we’re still recruiting! Send myself, Crístana or Daeras a whisper and we can discuss it!

Travel Book Entry: 19th February

Hello book,

My name is Vetress. and I’ve never written in you before. The captain had to run an errand, and I was able to ask them in time before they departed.

They pour their soul into these pages, I can feel the little indents in you, frayed bits or there, but you remain remarkably the same. How do you weather so much turmoil but remain uncompromised, a safe haven for people to put their words into ink.

I woke up a few years ago with no memory of where I came from or where I had gone to. I was welcomed and led in by others who begin to show me their way of living, their opinions and their attitude, but I can hardly say any of it stuck. I read them like books, enjoying the read but not accepting the content of their character to shape my own book. I don’t know why that is, why I keep trying to remain uncompromised, reluctant to fill my pages with my own opinions, molded by the experiences I have like everyone else.

It could be that I am, but I simply have not yet experienced something that complies with me, perhaps I naturally deflect these things because I inherently already disagree. I have my memories back now, we went through a time rift and in it I saw where I came from. I’d like to say it was pleasant, it wasn’t, and it’s made me unsure about what I am supposed to do with myself.

I think I’m going to try and carve my own path now that the road before me is not laid out, not to be lead but to walk aside others. Others would define me by the light but I didn’t choose it, I don’t have to make it my tombstone to carry, I don’t have to acknowledge it at all.

Dinner is being made, I got to go.

Vetress.

The guild is currently in Stormsong, on a shadow investigation into a cult and a shapeshifter that roams the land.