June Tenth

Today… Was interesting.

Massively unpleasant, actually…  That damnedable Rastel followed me as I visited my Succubus, Siri, who I lended to Kelen Seeker at the orders of that cold-hearted bastard Liadrin, whom I also had to visit today.  Naturally, being the ass he is, he completely misunderstood my motivations behind doing what I had to, to help my family…

This is a very serious problem, and to punish myself, I’ve…

Well, I’ve stopped taking my medicines.  I can barely hear myself talk over the crackling of my own lungs, it’s becoming hard to breathe, and I can barely talk anyway.  At any rate, I’ll be off…  I’ll have to somehow get myself out of working for Liadrin.  She’s a real bastard, I fear…  Perhaps if I tell her my medicines stopped working, and she needs to rely on some other member of my family…?

Ah… This is… Going to be a difficult few weeks, I can already tell.  The Earthwalkers are beyond upset, and I’m nearly overcome with personal guilt over what I’ve been doing.  I still hope they’ll allow me to represent them at the Summit…  Though I am greatly grieved by my actions, there are not the statesmen that I am… And I am still loyal, no matter what they’ll think…

I shall write later… For now, I certainly need to lie down…  I can barely breathe.

June Third

I fear it’s been quite a long time since I’ve written in my journal.  I’ve just been so busy!  Political conferences, I’ve been writing a sermon to deliver on June 9th, adventuring… I’ve recently moved off from the Ghostlands, and begun working for the Deathstalkers in the Hillsbrad Foothills; a small town called Tarren Mill, to be exact.  For the most part, they ask I slay Human farmers, soldiers and peasants in the village of Hillsbrad Fields.  It’s an easy task, one a person of my skills is most suited to, though I fear that it’s easy to become overwhelmed by the dozens of laborers capable of doing battle, as well as their soldier support.

Still, I cannot admit that I haven’t been vaguely amused by the Forsaken I’ve spoken with.  For the most part, they’re interesting people; Centus MacManus, First of Equals of Her Most Serene Majesty’s Couriers of Compassion amuses me to no ends, and one Deathstalker in Tarren Mill was so distraught by being unable to join in on the Battle of Hillsbrad that she actually requested I bring her 30 skulls from the Humans of Hillsbrad!  I have to say, that request most surprised me.

Just the other day, I spoke once again on behalf of the Earthwalkers at a discussion of House Silvacce centered on the economy.  I fear my classical training brought me some shame, however; I reverted to my original beliefs prior to my induction into the Earthwalker, bringing shame to myself.

Still, I’m pleased to say that on the next meeting, in just five days, I shall be ready for a new meeting based on what appears to be an upcoming and inevitable war against the Alliance.  I fear this war; the natural world doesn’t need more stress, and there’s no way a war could help it.  The Orcs may respect the elements, but the earth and the forests?  Their own actions in the Warsong Gulch would suggest not.  The Forsaken, of course, would run rampant with their plague, wiping out whole regions with their vile plagues.  My own people I would’ve once trusted to handle the forests, but now?  I’m not so sure.  The Tauren are the only ones we can trust to preserve the natural order, and yet they are only one vote, one vote among many that would seek thenatural world’s destruction if it meant their own gain.

I digress again.  I shall return now to the Hillsbrad Fields from the Tarren Mill inn; I have a great many Peasants to hunt.

–Lord Gefjon Kath’demaros Shadowielder

May Twenty-fifth

Today was a good day!

I, along with the Shaman Salanthe, and later, the Mage Mojack, visited the great Horde Summit, hosted by the proud members of the House Silvacce. A Forsaken known as Arthicus brought to our attention what he called the ‘facts’ of our time; that all of us have suffered greatly, and all of us have suffered at the hands of the Alliance. He intended to bind us into some type of alliance of organizations, with the intention being that we would stand strong together to face against our foes.

Naturally, I opposed; the natural world would take quite a bit of damage if all-out war were to break out, and House Silvacce seemed to fail to notice that we were doing atrocious acts against the Alliance too! Just look at Warsong Gulch; how can our people excuse that, when we are so clearly violating a holy grounds of the Kal’dorei?

Still, I digress. The night went on for at least four hours, as the argument went back and forth between Silvacce, the Earthwalkers, the Couriers of Compassion (led by their most charismatic delegate Centimanus), the Alahni Militia, House Vermillion, and Tuar Annwn (whose so-called Prince Sheigh attended half-way through to make an impassioned speech on behalf of his house).

I personally called back on my political training from so long ago. Once, I was a representative of House Shadowielder, as my father led the House; as such, I was the one who most frequently attended meetings such as this, so myFather needn’t be bothered. I was trained for a very long time in politics and public speaking, for this reason.

And now I had a chance to use it again, as well as my personal knowledge of history; some found my knowledge interesting (Night Elves keep fairly good records, even from the time of the Maelstrom…), while others found it annoying (Arthicus in particular was upset when I pointed out that it was ignorance and maddening grief that drove the late Grand Admiral Daelin Proudmoore to lay siege to Durotar).

The Earthwalkers, in the end, gained much face with the more prominent members of the Horde. I, for one, had some part in that; few people had the courtesy to call Arthicus ‘Master Speaker’ before I alerted them to the fact by my example, and throughout the meeting I represented the Earthwalkers with what I hope was dignity, and honor.

I shall write more another time. In the meantime, I sleep; the night went on long. Another conference, set to the topic of economics, has been scheduled for another time, and I hope to attend.

-Lord Gefjon Kath’demaros Shadowielder

The Nature of Death

I’ve been thinking now for quite some time, trying to discover the true meaning and purpose behind death. It brings pain to families, pain to the dying, tears homes apart, ruins lines, make wars worth fighting, facilitates crime… What is the purpose of death? Many have asked themselves this, and almost all agree that the result is that at death, people can be judged by Elune, by the Light, by Cenarius, by Ursoc, by whatever God they believe in. I don’t believe this; Gods do not need someone to be rotting in the earth for them to judge; they’re all powerful!

No, I believe that death was meant as the great humbler. Old, poor, young, rich; all can die, and all can be dying. Nothing makes a man realize the state of his own condition more than death. Even the most haughty aristocrat, who has spent his entire life exploiting the poor and damning the less fortunate than he, realizes he is no better than the next man when he realizes he’s dying. This is the purpose of Death, in my mind.

–Lord Gefjon Kath’demaros Shadowielder

((OOC)) Journal!

Yes, this is the journal of Lord Gefjon Kath’demaros Shadowielder.  It’s been something I’ve been thinking about for awhile, and now I have one.  Yes.  Yes, I have one.  Wee.

Okay, that was pointless, but still.  Please read the journal.  It’s amazing.

At least, I like to think so.

May Fourteenth

Today was a simple day.  I received more certificates from the ‘masters’ of Warlockry, letting me use such spells as the Ritual of Summoning, one of the most useful spells there is.  Afterwards, I traveled to Undercity at the direction of one of my masters.  He wanted me to find the Forsaken Summoner known as Carendin; Carendin was a powerful Warlock, and according to him, he could help me master the clean spell for summoning a Succubus, though do to the less forceful summoning style of Clean Warlockry, it would require a reagent to bind the original one to me;  specifically, according to Carendin, I would require the hearts of two pure-hearted men, two pure-hearted lovers; it would be painful to slay such good people, but I knew that if I didn’t do it, some other Warlock hopeful would, and they likely wouldn’t make it quick.

The first was a man named Dalin Forgewright.  He’d dedicated his life to helping the refugees at the Greymane Wall; I would’ve gladly helped the refugees to, but unfortunately, the sight of an Elf rather angered the refugees.  I ended up having to slay many of them as they attacked me viciously; my conscious was slightly soothed when Dalin led an attack himself upon me.  He died the offender, I, the mere defender.  I cut out his heart, and began the second part of my trek.

Comar Villard is a man in the Wetlands, wandering the area seeking out his lost love, an admirable goal.   I began walking through Hillsbrad and the Arathi Highlands, though I was ambushed by humans in the Arathi Highlands.  I was found by a kind priest, however, who nursed me back to health, before directing me along the way to Hammerfall.  He was most kind, and so, I began a new trek to Hammerfall; it grows late.  I suppose tomorrow I shall begin my trek once more, walking to the Wetlands to find Comar.

–Lord Gefjon Kath’demaros Shadowielder

May Thirteenth

Today, I again spent my day in the Ghostlands.  Today’s events were generally spent in Zeb’Tela and Zeb’Nowa; some Ranger at the Farstrider Enclave was trying to free up Rangers for an attack on Deatholme, and so paid me a healthy commission to kill Trolls, and take loads of their weapons.  I killed a good deal of them; they were powerful, but the training I received yesterday at the Warlock’s Academy in Silvermoon aided me.  My illness prevents me from using Traditional Warlockry anymore, so I’ve had to re-learn Warlockry the clean way, which requires less magical exertion.  It’s a long process; it essentially demands I relearn every spell that is with new verbal components, new somatic components… It’s infuriating!

Hopefully, the rest of my training will go quickly.  The study takes hours in front of that tome in the Warlock Academy, mastering spells, before speaking with the trainer to get my certification.  Whoever developed beauracracy deserves to be dragged into the streets of Murder Row and put before a firing squad.  I’ve been a Warlock longer than some of these idiots at the Academy have been alive, and I still need to get certified to use a spell.  I throw the certificates away immediately after getting them; they know this.  They watch me do it, Hell, one of them even helped me do it, and yet they keep insisting I get the certificates.  By the Gods…

After I hunted the simple Troll soldiers, I grouped with a Hunter named Arnbyk and a Rogue named Harlohck.  They, along with me, had been commissioned by the Rangers t0 kill the leader of the Trolls in Ghostwood, Kel’gash the Wicked.  Kel’gash lived in a small, isolated hut a hundred and twenty yards away from Zeb’Nowa, helped by only a few guards.  Arnbyk and Harlohck were not as experienced adventurers as I, so I lead the charge, Zangzazt flying ahead and plunging his shadowy arm through the first Troll’s chest; due to the gaseous nature of his body, it didn’t do the damage it would’ve had one of us done it, but it did plenty of damage.  Arnbyk put three arrows in the same Troll, as Harlohck knifed him in the back.  That Troll collapsed as Zangzazt blasted the second of the four Trolls with a gaseous spell; there was no damage, but it angered the Troll greatly.  He turned his attentions to Zangzazt, as Arnbyk and Harlohck began slicing away.

I was not idle during this time.  Rather, I had been busy psychically corrupting the minds of the third Troll with a spell known as Fear. It’s a spell not generally accepted by outsiders to the Warlock’s Circle, because it involves twisting a being’s mind into believing things that aren’t true; making them see spiders when they’re arachnophobic, making them see their family members dead all around them… Ethically, it’s a horrible spell, but against Trolls who are no better than vermin or demons, I have no qualms.

Once the third Troll was incapacitated, I turned my attentions to the fourth.  He was a  spellcaster; I could sense from the way he shied away from the battle, and also from the lack of a cat at his side, as with the other three Trolls.  He began casting a spell, but I wasn’t interested in letting him.

I raised my hand, and cast a swift spell, driving a bolt of pure shadow into the Hexxer’s side.  He stumbled back, and charged at me.  I rose my hand, and cast a pair of spells; a Curse of Agony, and a Corruption.  He slowed, only for a moment as the pain began to enter his mind, but he came back after a moment, swinging his staff at my side.  I let go of my cane; my leg crumpled beneath me, I gasped in pain, but I avoided taking any damage.

By this time, Zangzazt had been freed from his previous engagement and he came to my aid as Arbnyk and Harlohck moved to slay the Troll I had cast my Fear upon.  Zangzazt gained the attentions of the Hexxer as I drew my dagger.

I focused for a moment, and pointed my dagger at the Hexxer; with a final word, he burst into flame, and I began ruthlessly attacking him with my dagger.  The battle only lasted a few more moments.

We continued through the hut, an easy affair, before we finally came to Kel’gash the Wicked.  He was a vast Troll, clearly with a powerful control over the elements and over his body.  Zangzazt and Arbnyk’s pet raptor Abbadon attacked Kel’gash, and he cast a Lightning spell at Zangzazt.  Meanwhile, I cast an Immolation, a Corruption, and a Curse of Agony, as Arbnyk began putting arrows into every exposed bit of flesh she could find.  Harlohck did his Rogue thing at the same time, driving daggers through, under, over, and in between the cracks of the Troll’s armor.

It was difficult and messy; Abbadon fell in the process.  We had a short funeral, and then Zangzazt tore the head of the Troll clean off, and tied it to Harlohck’s back.  Harlohck was most upset, but an intimidating stare from the Voidwalker silenced his complaints.  The four of us made our way north from there, traveling through Zeb’Nowa, slaying whatever Trolls dared to take us on.  We traveled from there to Farstrider Enclave, and Harlohck was relieved of his grisly charge.  The Rangers gave Arbnyk a longbow, Harlohck a sword, and I got a nice staff out of the deal.  Unfortunately, due to my cane, I can’t really use staves, and so I pawned it for a pretty penny.

I made my way back to Tranquillien afterwards, and bought a bed at the inn.  It had been a long day.

And then I started writing.  And now I’m writing about writing.

Dear, I am getting old!

Anyway, I suppose I should go to sleep soon.  Hopefully I won’t die tomorrow.

–Lord Gefjon Kath’demaros Shadowielder

The Theory of Warlockry

I’ve decided to write a bit on the nature of Warlockry, including the incantations and motions required for a number of spells. Someday I’d be interested in writing a full textbook for people to use on the subject when learning my ancient art. After centuries of difficulty finding new recruits, finding new spells, even being accepted by society, it’s good to see a time when dozens of elves are coming like sheep to the shepherd to my art to sate their addiction, though it does pain me more than a bit to see my people in pain, especially the ones who refuse to turn to arts that could help them so much.

Modern Warlockry has two variations. I personally act in Clean Warlockry; despite it’s name, it’s as powerful as the other types, it simply involves less of what some of my brothers would call ‘damnation.’

Traditional Warlockry - Traditional Warlockry is Warlockry as it was originally developed. Most evil Warlocks have decided to use this; not all of them, but it involves much binding of demons into one’s own body for your spells, and the summoning. Fire spells involve summoning Demon fire from the Twisting Nether and using that. The art is the oldest type, but many people feel simply ‘wrong’ from that much contact with existence’s most horrifying beings. I learned this style in the beginning, but it simply made me feel horrible. Most people unfortunately have to learn this style to understand the other styles.

Clean Warlockry - Mild Warlockry is similar to shamanism. It involves less actual dealing with demons, and because of that, you have more choice of familiar; you can pick any demon you want, finding one that doesn’t make you feel filthy. Abatuk and Zangzazt, for example, my two preferred familiars, were picked after seven years of studying for one I liked; up until that point I used generic familiars when I summoned. It involves domination over shadows, which aren’t elements, to make your shadow bolts and your curses; I do it frequently. For the diseases that are often used by my kind, we speak with the small microorganisms in our foe, determine their particular biological weaknesses, and twist them into horrifying illnesses; flesheating viruses, lung petrifying bacteria… A good Warlock can even force an enemy’s heart to simply stop.

Fire spells is where members of my school truly feel like Shamans. We take the fire from the spirits, and twist it with their direction, and turn it into what we wish; we then use it to scorch our foes as we need.

The following is a list of spells, with incantations for both traditional Warlockry and clean Warlockry. Somatic components are generally the same for both tradtional and clean Warlockry.

Shadow Bolt

Traditional - Kallema

Clean - Priori incantatum nocturnus projectus

Somatic Component - Outstretch your hand.

Immolate

Traditional - Illortikaras

Clean - Priori incantatum pyrus immolatus

Somatic component - Point.

Corruption

Traditional - µafasu!

Clean - Priori incantatum virulus afflicium

Somatic component - Outstretched hand, palm toward target

Curse of Agony

Tradtional - Haµd

Clean - Priori incantatum poenis afflicium

Somatic component - Slashing motion from the left of one’s head to the right of one’s waist.

That’s all I shall write for now. I suppose I’ll add more as time goes on.

–Lord Gefjon Kath’demaros Shadowielder

May Twelfth

Today I spent quite a bit of time in the Ghostlands. It appeared I was never actually released from the Quel’thalas military, meaning that I was drafted by the various people requiring aid into all sorts of jobs. Clearing out filthy Troll Catacombs, helping defend Tranquillien against the Undead, clearing out old Elven towns…

Everything takes so long, it’s infuriating! And yet, I enjoy helping my people, in a way. I admit, I don’t have the crazed altruism of some of the Human or Draenei paladins, and if I could, I’d much prefer I have no chance of dying from being unseamed from nave to jaw, and I’d frankly hate it if I contract a second case of Ghoul Rot, but I suppose since I’m already in the Silvermoon Guard, I may as well fight, right?

I’ll have to mix up some potions now that I’ve written this. Nothing truly amazing happened today.

Oh, dear! I nearly forgot! Something did happen today!

I was assigned to the Amani Catacombs, as I pointed out earlier. I marched in; it appeared that the Amani trollish priests had begun raising the dead trolls, so it became my job to light the corpses that hadn’t already been raised aflame so that there would be no more corpses to raise. It was dirty work, made even more difficult by the dozens of Amani priests and mummified trolls wandering the area. Zangzazt, my Voidwalker, compared the underground caverns to the hive of a bee, and it was quite apt; the area had a vast number of criss-crossing passageways, was filled with trolls doing Light knows what, and it definitely couldn’t be understood by any other than its inhabitants. What kind of culture would do to its dead what the Trolls do? They wrap them in cloth, and bury them under the earth… So uncivilized!

Still, my time on this world has taught me that each culture will do what they will. Still, it does bother me what they do… Of course, Amani in general bother me. I fought them for well over a hundred years in the army… I guess I’m a tad biased!

I shall take off now to mix up my potions. It may take awhile… I waited far to long to make the batch.

–Lord Gefjon Kath’demaros Shadowielder

May Eleventh

It’s been an interesting day thus far, though it’s far from over. I had to give an impromptu lecture on the basic theorem of Warlockry, after one of the main teachers at the small school in Silvermoon found himself in a bit of a tussle with an overly eager Infernal. It was fairly amusing to watch, though I think the smoldering patch atop his head now will be embarrasing., to be quite honest.

The basic theorem is fairly interesting. Contrary to popular belief, modern Warlockry, outside of summoning, requires very little actual dealing with demons. When we summon demons, we use a pentacle and other items to bind the demon to our world, and keep it under our control for as long as we can; in the case of some demons, this may only be a few minutes, but for other ones, it could be years.

When casting normal spells, though, it’s more like modern Shamanism, except it’s fairly dominating rather than dealing. We take the shadows from around us to cast our more shadowy spells, and speak to them, twisting them into what we require; bolts of energy, curses, and other spells. For our diseases and the like, we make deals with the voracious organisms that are found everywhere in both Azeroth and Outland, giving them strength in return for their services. And for our fiery spells, we speak with the fire in the world, and twist into burning, engulfing flames that take the enemy of the Warlock and transform it into a pile of pure ash.

This is all I shall speak of for now. I suppose I should write a book about Warlockry… I certainly think of it enough.

–Lord Gefjon Kath’demaros Shadowielder