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And the End of The story...

OOC: This is the official "journal is no longer being actively maintained by it's owner, outside of security whoopsies and horsekeeping". Go pester

tiger, I hear he's a larger barrel of laughs.

[translated from taurahe]

I have found redemption, dear diary. In fighting alongside the druids of the Cenarion Circle, I did my part in saving Azeroth, and saving my Warchief from a fate worse then anything I could dream of. Afterwards, I returned to Orgimmar, to check in with the warchief of the Horde, Garrosh Hellscream clan of orcs.

I had met this Garrosh Hellscream in Warsong hold; while I did not personally like him, I followed his orders as was expected of me. I arrived in Orgrimmar, and was ordered to report to a new airship that was on it's way to a new continent that had once been shrouded in mists and legands.

I had some time beforehand, so I flew to my old home of Thunder bluff to check in with the chieftain, Cairne. I at least owed him a visit, as he had welcomed me home with open arms as a lost son returned.

I arrived to find Thunder Bluff dressed in the final stages of mourning. Cairne was dead.
------

I was kneeling in front of the totem that had been erected to honor the fallen chieftain. It was covered by many notes of sympathy and sorrow written in every language that existed, primarily taurahe, but there was at least two or three from even the languages of the Alliance, and even one from the current Khan of the Krenka tribe of centaurs, who had been feuding with the tauren since before the founding of the the Horde.

I had just added to the totem a note that I had spent the past hours composing when I heard a familiar voice behind me. It was Baine, Cairn's son and the current chieftain. He spoke in our language. "I had been informed by several of the bluff watchers loyal to me who saw you arrive that you were paying tribute to my father. Know that you are still welcome here- I will honor my father's words in that regards. Whatever feelings you have regarding our current warchief, bury them deep within yourself, as I have done."

He looked around furtively, then brought his voice low as he leaned in to me. "Follow his instructions regardless of how you feel about him, young one." He straightened out. "I understand that you are going to explore a new land. Bring the tauren honor, hero." He slightly nodded to the side where two Kor'Kron stood waiting. Switching back to Orcish, he stated, "Thank you for honoring my father. You are needed elsewhere, have a safe trip."

I turned to face the two warriors, who informed me that I was late. I apologized, and it was not to long after that I was on my way to see a new land.

A return.

[translated from taurahe]

The Lich King, Arthas, is dead.

Not at my hands, dear diary, but at someone else's. As much as this disappoints me, I realize now in hind sight that it was never meant to be. I may be called a hero, but I rather do things in the back ground that further my cause, and bring me closer to my redemption.

I was performing my daily penance against the vrykul around the Shadow Vault when it happened. I felt it- it was as if heavy chain had been lifted from me, even more so from when we were first freed. The vrykul I was fighting felt it and stopped mid-swing, a look of confusion appearing on his face as the realization hit him. The look turned to shock and surprise a moment later as I impaled him first with my runeblade, then with the standard holding the banner of the Ebon Blade. This was the last one, so I returned back to the Shadow Vault, landing just in time before Baron Silver entered a death gate back to the Ebon Hold. He ordered me to stay and assist with holding back any scourge until he returned.

The assault on the vault by the scourge had let up briefly, but resumed shortly after he had left. I joined the front line and spent some time driving back the abominations and other assorted undead that had been directed at us. I did notice that the first few waves when the attacks resumed were quite disorganized, as if the mind directing the assault was confused or mis-directed. In due time, the Baron returned, and ordered me to return to the hold- I was being given new orders.

As I blinked into existence within the Hold, I noticed the place was somewhat less busy than usual- the normal air of grim determination held a whiff of what one could only describe as relief, mixed with uncertainty. I presented myself to Highlord Mograine.

"Ah, yes. you seem to want to stay away from that which you once were, to bury old regrets and memories. You have become very good at destroying the undead in Northrend, which is why I am assigning you to assist the horde with the culling of the remaining scourge. I won't hide from my fellow knights what Tirion revealed to me- the scourge army must have a master, lest they go out of control. Another took up the crown of the lich king, sacrificing himself to contain them. You may have felt something when Arthas was killed?"

I nodded as he continued. "Good. You are truly free, then. Let go of who you once were and become who and what you are- an instrument of punishment for those that would-"

His voice cut out as we all felt the world shudder. After regaining his voice, he began again. "New orders. Report to Orgrimmar; offer what assistance you can to aid the horde. Pass these same orders to other horde aligned death knights. And HURRY- I fear something terrible has happened, and the fate of the world may hang by our deeds and acts. GO!"

It was a short time later that I found myself boarding a ship with Thrall, the Warchief of the Horde, on our way to the Maelstrom. Through a series of events, I found myself trapped aboard a sunken ship far underwater. I managed to escape, and eventually found myself doing something I had deemed unthinkable since becoming this monster- I was working on the behalf of the Cenarion Circle to defend the World Tree. I find it ironic that this once druid turned killing machine is helping druids once again.

Unfortunately, that is all the time I have to write- Battle calls.

[OOC note: after a long hiatus and swearing never to play World of Warcraft, I finally allowed myself to be talked into turning my account back on, if only to see if anything has changed.]

Current Mood: accomplished

Memories.

I can't escape them. What I was, what I've become. I was a hero, once. The citizens of the Horde looked up to me. That was all taken away when I was killed and resurrected as what I am now. And while I cannot escape this torment, living with the knowledge of what I've become, I have been able to use it against the Lich King and his minions. I've helped reclaim the Shadow Vault, destroy the Fleshwerks, and stir up discontent among the vykrul varguls and the other undead that they are forced to work around. While others may still regard me as a monster, some do regard me as a hero. Myself? I regard myself as still seeking redemption, which I may find one day.

But at long last, I am ready to start looking now.

[OOC: He hit 80 this morning.]

What is this I have gained?

It has been an unusual time since my last entry, Diary. While it was difficult to infiltrate Voltaras, the tasks I performed for the Ebon blade proved most useful in stopping Drakuru from inflicting a new plauge upon the remaining trolls in Zul'Drak. I also performed a number of tasks for the very gods that the trolls worship; at least the ones they had not killed yet out of desperation to gain the power to try and stop Arthas, that is. There is one thing that I have not done, however; One of the many tasks that I have done for various people was to restore contact with the famed hunter Hemet Nestingwary's expedition into Sholozar Basin. When I caught up with his party, I was invited to participate in one of his many hunts, which I politely declined. While I may be the embodiment of death and suffering, I find no pleasure in killing merely for the sake in killing any longer. While this does not stop me from killing the undead and willing minons of Arthas or his servants, I feel that I cannot act against creatures and beasts, no matter how innocent. Must be the druid still in me.

Innocent or no, I was also called up by the horde to act for the Darkspear trolls- Vol'jin requested the Horde's aid in finally clearing out Zanzalane from the Echo Isles once and for all, which I did gladly. That troll thought he knew about death and suffering- we taught him otherwise, with the assistance of some unlikely allies- the great spirit Bwonsamdi, an ancient loa of the darkspear that watches over the dead, and something that made me intensely curious- a troll druid who brought the animals of the isles to fight with us.

I would investigate the troll druid further, but I was recalled back to northrend to aid the dragons in their internal struggle against the blue dragonflight, which has gone mad and has gone to war against the participants of the wyrmrest accord.

Alas, diary, I must take leave now- There is still much to do, and little time remaining to do it.

Current Mood: accomplished

Even death incarnate needs help sometimes...

I was aware of the necropolis Naxxanar floating above Borean Tundra for some time while I was questing for the local tribe of Taunka; it was finally time to do something about it. The chieftain suggested that by removing the overlord, they would be able to evacuate to Icemist, their capital. The information I was able to get for him also re-awakened an old hatred, one that had driven me mad for a time. The scourge running Naxxanar were San'Layn, Blood elves who were killed by Arthas and raised into undeath to act as his agents. And when I found out who was running Naxxanar... I gladly took the task to kill Valanar. I knew, however, that I would need help. This help came in the form of one of my fellow death knights. While he was not as powerful as I am, with his help I gladly killed the one who urged us onward back at Death's Breach when we were still slaves to Arthas. Letting my hate and rage fuel the battle, we removed him from the land of the living with little trouble. I suspect that Nycodaemus, my helper, also had a personal reason as well- He is a blood elf that was also among the many of us whom fell during the second scourge invasion.

I would write more, but my fellow Ebon knights require me to infiltrate another necropolis- Voltaras, under the command of a rather unsavory troll. Wish me luck, I'll need it.

Current Mood: weary

My dearest diary...

( [OOC]Cut for Wrath-gate Spoilers )

Current Mood: content

(no subject)

[Editor's note: translated from taurahe, but the writing is as if someone else wrote the entry.]

I... I do not know what came over me. The last coherent thing I remember was wanting to erase the person I was from my mind. For a terrible, brief moment, I once again heard a voice other then my own inside my mind. Not Arthas, but another scourge... And then I remembered. One of the Darkfallen, or San'Layn as they are also known. One that killed me, then raised me into this tormented semblance of living. I vaguely remember fetching my armor and weaponry from the innkeeper in Thunderlord Stronghold, casting the deathgate spell to return to the Ebon hold, and marching directly to Darion Mograine himself. He looked at me with a steeled gaze. "What is it?" Barely containing my building rage, "Tenris Mirkblood. Where is he?" Mograine's response was swift, brutal, and painful. "He's dead, at someone else's hands. I want you to think about my next words, and ask for me when you understand them. We are here for one purpose, and one purpose alone: retribution. Not against his lieutenants, but against him directly. You need to harness this hate and use it for something other then petty revenge, and it is to that purpose that I now do the following." The blow came unexpectedly, and nearly sent me tumbling out of the former necropolis into the world far below. Several hands took a firm hold of me and dragged me away to a cell that still contained some rotting remnants of their residents when the hold was under scourge control. I sat, nearly mindless with rage and anger, for some time, until it was finally spent.

When I came to, Diary, I saw the pages I wrote, and bled on, and I now realize the simple truth: I am who I was, and am now. I came to realize what I had done and what I must do. A few taps on the door brought one of the guards, who grunted and walked away. Mograine presently arrived, and let me out of the cell, but not before drawing his sword. "Are you in a better mood to think now?" I nodded meekly. Before I could say anything, he held up his free hand. "I can see the madness has left you, and left you whole, or at least more complete then you may realize. The guard here will return your armor and weapon; and you'll be released to finish your outstanding tasks in Outland. But as soon as you are able, You must travel to Northrend and assist the Horde efforts there in the way only a death knight can. Good luck." I bowed to him, and followed the guard to collect the remainder of my effects.

[OOC note: largely non-canon, at least in regards to the conversation with Mograine.]

Current Mood: infuriated

(no subject)

[Editor's note: The 5 pages of the journal presented for transcription after the last legible entry are spotted with blood in some parts, stained completely deep red in others, but all contain the same phrases scrawled all over in random order, crossing over each other and generally in a disorganized manner.]

I HATE WHO I WAS WHO I AM HATE THE ONE THAT DID THIS HATE THE DEAD HATE THE LIVING HATE MYSELF HATE EVERYONE MUST KILL THE LIVING THE DEAD EVERYONE MYSELF KILL HATE DEATH DEATH

[The last page is soaked completely in blood]

ARTHAS MUST PAY
ALL MUST DIE
ALL MUST PAY
NO HOPE NO REST
NO PEACE

Current Mood: distressed

I am not sure this is called 'still alive'...

[translated from taurahe]

I did not intend for such long periods between updates, diary. But as it has been said: 'life happens', if this existence I suffer in could be called a life. There is another saying: 'when life hands you lemons, make lemonade.' This is what I have been doing; using the power I have to destroy life and create chaos and putting it to the betterment of the Horde. In Outland, I was directed to meet with the main group of the Mag'har, or brown orcs as they are known; I have spent the last few months assisting them with the matter of the ogre invasion they are dealing with, and meeting new and stranger forms of life then myself.

[the lettering near the end of this section became increasingly difficult to translate from the jagged writing; as if the author started shaking visibly trying to write.]

In regards to my last entry; I do not think I will return to Thunderbluff for a long, long time, unless there is a dire need. I have too many memories of who I once was; It is an unpleasant sensation having these memories inside my head. I carry around remnants of a person who is dead and was replaced by the monster that is myself. I cannot go back, for fear of unearthing even more shards of who I once was; revered and loved by others of my kind, it has all turned to darkness, ashes, blood, and hatred. These memories burn like a white-hot needle in my mind; I wish I could tear them out, throw them away, and be the person I am now, and not the druid I once was...

[remainder of original entry rendered illegible by the poor writing quality; and later dark bloodstains covering the lower half of the page.]

A bit of a break and turning point...

[translated from taurahe]

My dearest journal, I realize that it has been some time since I've written anything. I have spent this time dealing with the pain and sorrow that came from that one single letter has given me. The trolls of Zangermarsh, the druids of the Cenarion Expedition, and the orcs have had tasks for me to do as well, which has occupied my time. I also try and return to the only place I think I can truly call 'home' anymore- The ziggurat called The Ebon Hold, or Acherus as it was once known as before we took it over. I find some peace not only there among my peers, but also practicing the art of herbalism and inscription.

While I realize that I am still welcome at Thunder Bluff, courtesy of a note sent by Arch Druid Hamuul Runetotem himself, I find myself not wanting to return; Too many old and painful memories exist there. What would happen if I run into others from my partly-remembered past, which would only bring more pain, more suffering, more misery into their life, and the semblance of life that is my existence? So I stay away. I think it better. While I respect the traditions of the taurens, I feel I must start new; 'wipe the slate clean', so to speak. The druid I was; died trying to defeat Arthas. Let his name be remembered only as a dead hero. Grieve for him as I have grieved for those I killed as a minion of the Lich King. Grieve for the peaceful creature I once was, and can no longer be.

I am out of time to write more, journal. I have work that needs attending to serve the wishes of the Horde, and to gain strength and power to destroy the one who damned me to this never-ending nightmare of misery.

Current Mood: crushed

Epilog: Return to Thunderbluff

[translated from taurahe]

The was not much more to say or do after the bluffwatchers brought me out of my reverie. I composed a short, brief note of thanks to Sh'ras which consisted of two short sentences: "Thank you again for the return of my memories. I will return in about a month, if you wish to talk further."

Invoking my hearthstone, I returned to Zangermarsh. The innkeeper spotted me immediately. "My assistant told me about the reason for your abrupt vacation. But I see you have returned, to continue your work, perhaps?"

Nodding to her, I said "I had a few issues that, um, haunted me. But I've gotten better." I turned and went back to work.

two weeks later

I returned from the field after a brief trip back to Hellfire Penninsula to kill a demon with some fellow guild members. There was a letter waiting for me. It was not signed, but I recognized her flowing, elegant script from one one of my regained memories. The letter read as such:

"My dear friend,

One of the bluffwatchers told me of what happened after I returned to my duties. While it pleases me that you have regained your memories, it pains me to tell you that I can no longer see you other anymore, even as friends. While your memories speak only of the romance we once shared, my memories of what we once were have turned to ashes, and leave a bitter taste. I am truly sorry that this letter causes you pain."

I gently folded the letter back into the envelope that it came in, and tucked into one of the spare pockets on my pack, even as the tears started to form. I left Zangermarsh before anyone could question me and resumed the task I was there for- sowing death and misery upon those whom deserved it more then I did.

Current Mood: enthralled

A return to Thunderbluff...

[translated from taurahe; also note, this is a follow up of sorts to "A Death Knight cannot Cry."]

I had another dream, or so I thought.
( cut for length )

Current Mood: melancholy

(no subject)

[translated from taurahe]

I have found peace in the act of picking flowers. How strange is that, that for a creature that is the embodiment of death and misery, to find peace by picking flowers?

Old habits do die hard, even for a death knight- I have been working for the druids of the Cenarian Circle in Zangermarsh performing a small number of tasks. That is, when I am not picking flowers.

While I am not happy with what I have become, I have accepted it. I suppose that may be called progress.

Current Mood: accomplished

Wintervale

[translated from taurahe]

I had been busy traveling between Thrallmar and Orgrimmar on, of all things, a diplomatic mission for the Mag'har. I scarcely believe it myself. By the time I returned to Thrallmar, I noticed green and red decorations had been strung up, and small decorated trees had been placed all around. One of the guards came up to me and said with a smile on his orcish face, "Greetings traveler, and happy wintersvale to you!". The smile lessened somewhat as she noted my confused look. "Oh right, no memory. My apologies. I do not have time to describe why we do this, but someone in your home might." I bowed and thanked her, and went to the wind master. Asking for a wyvrn to Shattrath, he gave me a similar greeting, and then said "I hope you find a pleasant memory of these times, friend." When I landed, I noted that Shattrath was decorated in a similar fashion. I located the portal to Thunder bluff, and stepped through to... a party? I ended up being directed to Orgrimmar to speak with Grand-father Winter himself, which I dutifully did, although... well, it was a sham. The orc playing the part looked heavily overworked and very tired. I tried to apologize for bothering him, but he shook it off. "While I could probably guess what you would like, little... boy, I think you may find it within yourself. Good luck to you!" There was another tauren who was staring at me intently as I finished with the orc, and I went to him. "Bah! All this merriment. That is not Great Father winter over there in the red coat." I tried to tell him that I agreed, but the tauren keep right on talking. "Talk to Sagorne Crestrider- He's a shaman trainers near Thrall's chamber. He can tell you the real reason for the celebrating." I nodded in gratitude, and made my way over. The shaman was very polite and cordial, and he gave me a small book that he had printed. "Read it, and then take it to Cairn- He will be proud to know that people are interested in the ways and teachings of the Earth Mother.

I read through the book while riding the wyvrn back to Thunder Bluff, and was enlightened. After handing the book to Cairn himself and him thanking me for wishing to re-learn history, I had one more thing I needed to do. "Sir, Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I would like to apologize, however, for what I am about to do."

before he could react, I expertly tossed a snowball and hit him square in the middle of the chestplate he wore. His laughter rang throughout the city as he and his guards pelted me likewise.

Current Mood: restless
Current Location: Thrallmar
Current Music: Assault on New Avalon - WoTLK soundtrack

A nightmare?

[translated from taurahe]

I was just now jolted out of a sound sleep in Thrallmar by a nightmare- Or was it a remembered memory? It's vivid enough that I 'm able to re-tell it:

I'm assaulting New Avalon, and bombing the ballistas and defenders when all of a sudden, I'm blasted off my mount by a ballista bolt to the chest that impales me completely. Even though I hit the ground hard, I manage to pick myself up, and continue fighting until the ground troops manage to completely dismember me. Unable to die and in incredible pain, The whisper in my head that had been with me always suddenly said "You have failed me.. I shall leave you there to know my anger until I am ready to properly deal with you."

At this point I bolted awake with a scream, sword in hand, much to the surprise of the innkeeper, and just about every guard within earshot, who came running. I apologised quickly enough, but it still left me wondering-

During my forced and involuntary service to Arthas, I 'died' and was ressurrected a number of times. Did what I dreamed really happen? My body cannot tell- it has so many scars that even a scar from a ballista bolt would not be obvious. and my memories of even my time under the lich king is fragmented and disjointed.

Current Mood: annoyed
Current Location: Thrallmar

(no subject)

[translated from taurahe]

Before I went 'back to work' in the Outlands, I spent a fair amount of time in Nightmare Vale, doing a number of seemingly simple tasks for the Forsaken. Of all the other Horde allies, I feel that they alone understand my... situation, even though they only barely tolerated me at first. I can understand the reason why I and others of my kind are treated like that- It is the same reason why they understand the Death knight's situation. We were both tools of the Kich King, and then broke free of his will. Can we really be trusted?

For that matter, can I trust myself anymore? I fear that my former self would find it horrifying to hear how much of a primal rush I get when I fall into killing. It's almost like the orc's bloodrage, or a druid in bear or cat form berserking, only I don't want it to end...

Bah- I'm getting worked up just writing about it. I need to go and abuse the idiot minon of a ghoul that I have. Gah, it's picking at the remains of the flesh on a leg and trying to eat itself.

Current Mood: sad
Current Location: Thrallmar Inn

A Death Knight Cannot Cry.

[translated from taurahe]

While it is an interesting time killing crazed demonic orcs out in Hellfire Peninsula, I made my way back home for a bit, if nothing else to try and recover my memories of who and what I once was. I wandered for a while in Mulgore, my native lands. While I spent much of my childhood here, little remained familiar to me. While the other tauren were friendly to me, I sensed... an uneasiness in them with my presence, as if I was going to turn on them any moment. I do not blame them. I remembered nothing but my former name, and it made me sad. I returned to Thunder Bluff and went to the Hall of Elders- the history of the tauren were kept there, and I might find something to assist me is regaining my former memories. As I made my way into great tent, I was immediately hailed by another one of the druid trainers. "Another Death Knight looking to rediscover himself?" It was one of the other druids, a female tauren. The moment I looked at her... some of my memories returned, not all of them pleasant, or wanted. I started to say something, but she beat me to it.

"A brother druid has returned to us! We took you for worse then dead, but when the news spread that you were one of the death knights that broke free-" she abruptly, and looked me over again much more seriously. "You... don't remember anything, do you. The Lich King erased your memory, like the other death knights." I nodded my head. "I remember little else but my old name, and that I once was a druid like you. My old name... is without meaning now, just as I am no longer a druid, Miss. I used to be able to sow life and healing into the world. Now, I can sow only death, and misery. I made a mistake coming here. I was hoping that by regaining my memories of who I once was, that I might be able to discover a way of reversing what has become of me. Unfortunately, I am mistaken- What memories have returned have made that abundantly clear to me, and It would seem that I must make my own way in this world. I must leave now, before I remember anything else of what, or who, I once was. I am sorry."

With that, I turned around and left the building, not wanting to hurt her more then I had already hurt myself. I could feel the tears running down her face, and wishing that the Lich King hadn't taken that ability from me as well. Before she could catch up to me, I cast the hearthstone spell to return me to Thrallmar. If I could sow only death and misery, I might as well do so to those that deserve it.

Current Mood: calm

Greetings from Thrallmar!

[translated from tauhe]

After speaking with Cairn, he suggested that I help the Horde out by travelling to the Dark Portal, and assisting with the war efforts against the Burning Leigon. This seemed like a good use for my... talents, so I carefully made my way there. While it does not exactly please me that I turned into an instrument of destruction and death from what I was, It helps me to know that I can do something positive and useful.

And besides, those bloodchewers are not exactly nice people either. Even the other orcs do not like them.

Now if I can just get my pet ghouls to behave- batcatcher is being *such* a naughty creature. I may have to kill him again to teach it some manners...

Current Mood: content

Home?

[translated from tauhe]

After leaving Thrall's chamber, I made my way over to the flight master, and got a ride to Thunder Bluff. After landing, I made my way over to to Chieftain's tent. Although the guards and population in general paid no attention to me (I saw others dressed in more severe armor then mine!) I was nervous. Would my own people take me back?

My aprehension was in vain- Upon presenting myself, Cairn looked me over.
"One of our lost sons has returned to us against all hope. I will not ask you to recount the horrors you have seen or done- It is enough for me and the elders to know that you have broken free from your former master's will, no easy task. Leave the burden of what you have done behind you- It is a new day, and you must make your way forward from here. Welcome home."