Hello again, dear reader,

It has been a while since spoke last, but thankfully, I have few events of note to record and archive as of late.

Of course, as I believe you may have guessed by now, yes, my family and I have returned safely to our home in Ironforge. The time between my last entry and today’s was more or less uneventful, save for one last crossing through the Dark Portal and getting the attention of a rather large mercenary guild after crossing over into Azeroth. That said guild has offered support for my coming lore-gathering expeditions, and I have a feeling that I will need the assistance in the coming days.

Saphrit's training has been going swimmingly and he has progressed by leaps and bounds, surprising his Draenei mentors. Lord A'dal expects young Saphrit to reach his 68th season of experience within the next fortnight if he remains vigilant with his training. As Saphrit's adoptive father, I cannot hide my beaming pride for my beloved son and how he has improved as a paladin in such a short amount of time. Saphrit will resume his training among the paladins of Shattrath once we negotiate terms of portal service from the mages of Ironforge's Mystic Quarter. If all goes well, Saphrit may join me in Northrend. He may benefit from the lessons and lore of what happened in the frozen reaches of that land, and perhaps to better understand the fate of his flight.

… By the moon. Now my mind wanders to circumstances of The Nexus War... One of my colleagues was involved personally in that conflict. I hope he is well, after what has happ --

*there is a blotch of ink here, indicating a pause on the part of the writer*

Saphrit has returned home with a bundle of documents from the Ironforge Postmaster. It seems our good standing with the city had earned us some favors when we’re out of town, and that must include holding onto our backlogged mail. Yes, dear reader, most of what was received happened to be minor tax statements, but those can be taken care of in time. What has gotten my interest are a memory stone from the Crossroads in the Barrens (likely a report from Dano, dear reader), and an unmarked letter that I sense is from southern Silverpine.

I will take pause here for now read and peruse what news these correspondences bring... When I am done, you will be the first I will inform, dear reader.

Until we meet again, Diel'nadres and may the Light guide your path.

-End Log


Addendum: By the shining fang of Goldrinn...

The letter from Silverpine bears news that has left me with mixed feelings about what has since transpired so many months ago. Dear reader, I will need to prepare for one more little business trip before heading to Northrend, and on this trip, I will need to go alone.

Source, guide my thoughts, my actions, and my words...

((You find a book made of wood, sinew, and leather parchment, carefully wrapped in an oilskin with a tattered quill pen and a dry block of berry ink. It appears to be a journal of some sort, a very old one and clearly very fragile in spite of the materials it had been made of. With great care and curiosity, you open the journal and scan the pages until a particular entry catches your eyes.))

--------------

Greetings again, dear reader.

It's late out here in Shattrath, and for some reason, I am unable to sleep.

Perhaps it is because I am done, more or less, with my catalogue of lore here in Outland, and there is a part of me that is not looking forward to returning to Northrend. It may be because of my distaste towards the overwhelming presence of the undead there, or the memories I shared with my previous brothers and sisters in arms. Regardless, my catalog is nearly complete, and Northrend is the last leg of this journey...

The past few days, I had been scurrying about the shattered remains of Outland, snapping up the stories of the heroes that had challenged that broken world's dangers. I brought Terrothanes and a proxy of the Naaru A'dal, a young Naaru named K'sut (encased in a Draenei avatar) with me during my trip to Shadowmoon. While the threat of Illidan Stormrage had been neutralized just two years or so ago, the fel taint of demons was still immensely strong in that place. The last thing my young mage friend needed was to be exposed full force by the toxic presence of demonic energies. We arrived at Wildhammer Stronghold on the backs of two of Terrothanes's Netherwing Drake wardens, Azruaku and Sanguinus, and the five of us were greeted by the stronghold's resident Thane, Kurdran Stormhammer.

The Thane was pleased to have a few more guests to share his table with, as a few Aldor representatives from the Altar of Sha'tar outpost had arrived several hours before and he was interested in some storytelling. Thane Kurdran had gotten wind of my quest to catalog the lore of the world of Azeroth and beyond, and was the first to tell his tale, one that involved his Gryphon Rider division and the corrupted Aspect of Death, Deathwing. At his request, I added his story to my catalog of lore... It was a very interesting tale, and it was an honor to have permission to include it.

After the Thane told his tale, the rest of us went around the table, hearing other tales of the heroes that passed through Wildhammer Stronghold and the Altar of Sha'tar during the height of the Burning Crusade.

One tale told of a naïve young hero that was tasked with ensuring the demise of a Second War-era Shadow Council Death Knight known as Teron Gorefiend, a fiend said to have been the greatest of this first generation of deathknights. The young hero was sent out to seek out the assistsance of the spirit of an ancient orc wandering about the Altar of Shadows near where the land meets the nether. The orc spirit convinced the naïve one to do a few favors for him in order to divine where Gorefiend was hiding. Once the tasks were done, though, the poor sap found himself possessed by the Ancient Orcish Spirit... who turned out to be Teron Gorefiend the whole time. The Altar of Shadows was merely the former Orcish Warlock's prision, and the tasks he had given to the young hero had instead freed Gorefiend from captivity. After being forced by Gorefiend to vanquish his Draenic captors, the Death Knight's spirit let the poor fool go in humiliation. ... It wasn't until later, when a joint raid led by the Scryers and the Aldor, did the young, and now wiser, hero finally redeem himself for his blunder and slayed Gorefiend in his lair below the Black Temple of Karabor.

Another rather epic story revolved around another hero seeking out the guidance in regards to a dangerous spell called the Cipher of Damnation from an old orc who once served as Gul'dan's right hand lieutenant. He instead found an old farmer named Oronok Torn-heart, working the land for difficult to raise tubers in the fel-tainted soil. After managing to gain old Torn-heart's trust, the hero was asked to find and assist Oronok's sons in seeking the fragments of that terrible spell.

The first son, Grim'tor, was well and having quite a time slaughtering the Coilskar Naga wholesale. With his assistance, the hero was able to recover the first of three fragments from the lockboxes the Naga were guarding.

The second son, Borak, was hiding under a bridge just outside of a large encampment of loyal followers of Kael'thas, the Eclipsion. Borak had learned that the Eclipsion's regular Envoy from Illidan had a taste for Bloodthistle weed (something the Sin'dorei at large condsider a taboo pleasure), and in order to get the orders in regards to the fragment of the Cipher Borak was tracking, the spies needed fresh Bloodthistle. The hero was sent to Shattrath with a rotten Arokkoa egg to trade it for a bundle of Bloodthistle from a shady dealer Borak knew. Well, long story short, the shady dealer gladly took the egg... and drank the smelly, rotted contents.

It took a fair bit of time for the guests at the Thane's dinner table to recover from the graphic description of the scene that followed the consumption of the egg as told by the storyteller... To quote; "... It was a complete and total barf-o-rama.". ... Ugh.

The hero returned to Borak a little more green around the gills and a bundle of contraband Bloodthistle heavier. After luring the Illidari envoy away from his bodyguard and killing him, Borak and the hero learned from the missive they recovered from the envoy's mangled body that the fragment of the Cipher was being moved constantly, and that its next resting place was with the Dragonmaw Orcs further east. Unfortunately, because the seal on the missive was broken, there had to be another way to administer the orders without arousing suspicion... And that obviously included a disguise.

After taking on the guise of an envoy himself, the hero went and informed the Eclipsion Highlord of where the Cipher of Damnation's fragment was to be moved next. Afraid to face the wrath of Illidan, the highlord said that he was sending his best courier over to the Dragonmaw fortress with their fragment of the cipher, one called Ruul the Darkener. Long story short, the hero made short work of Ruul just as he was finishing the delivery, and the second fragment of the Cipher of Damnation was recovered.

The final fragment came on the heels of tragedy. Oronok's youngest son, Ar'tor, was slain moments before the hero was able to intervene. Unable to pass on into the next life until his task was complete, the young orc asked the hero's assistance in the retrieval of the Cipher of Damnation's final fragment. After facing down some of Illidan's mightiest demons, the final fragment was recovered, and Ar'tor passed to the other side in peace.

Oronok was indeed grieved at the news that he had lost a son in the recovery of the cursed cipher, but he was comforted to know his son went in peace and that his last wish was to see the effects the Cipher of Damnation reversed. Calling upon the hero's assistance one last time, Oronok led the hero back to the Hand of Gul'dan. There the Cipher was uttered one last time, summoning a massive, demonically tainted fire elemental; and with the aid of Oronok Torn-heart and his surviving sons, the hero vanquished the tainted elemental and calmed the angered elements of Outland.

Another more minor tale involved another hero investigating the remains of an Arokkoa village that was razed in the wake Illidan's reign. The Arokkoa spirits there, twisted by the vile fel taint that permeated the bulk of Shadowmoon, were compelled to summon what seemed to be an Old God not unlike the Old God of Ahn'Qiraj, C'thun, onto the surface of their shattered world. Under the guidance of Shadowmoon's last living Arokkoa, this hero gathered a selection of items of power and bound them into a powerful staff. Unleashing the inherent powers of the staff at the point of the Old God's summoning, the ritual was ultimately aborted and undone.

In return for the generous exchange of tales, I indulged my hosts with an amusing anecdotal snippet of my adventure in the cursed land of Azshara, specifically my discovery of the crystalized remains of several mages near the stone giants that roamed the southern ridges. I got a few chuckles and several surprised and dumbfounded expressions out of –that- one!

After the meal, the Aldor escorted Terrothanes, his wardens, K'sut, and myself on a short tour of Shadowmoon and the progress being made to the restoration of the Temple of Karabor. During the tour, we heard the tales of heroes aiding in the redemption of the Krokul sage, Akama, of the Fall of Illidan, and of the hungering retribution and realization of lost purpose in the story of the Warden Maiev Shadowsong. We watched the creation of infernals being created from fel-tainted and tormented fire elementals being encased in bodies of stone as demonstrated by a few former Scryer warlocks working to deconstruct the Deathforge near the Hand of Gul'dan. Then we saw the razed Arokkoa villages in the stories told us earlier were being rebuilt and repopulated by Light-fearing Arokka from Shattrath.

All-in-all, the trip was worthwhile for all of us, Terrothanes most especially, as he learned much more about who he was meant to be in the stories told around Thane Wildhammer's dinner table tonight, especially from the Thane’s personal story. After saying our thanks and adieus, we returned to whence we came: Shattrath.

On other news, during our stay here, young Saphrit joined me halfway through my lore-gathering expedition, and immediately became enamored with the presence of the Naaru and the power and poise of the city's resident paladins. Though Saphrit was of draconic descent and his flight was more inclined to use Arcane over Divine magic, A'dal sensed my adopted son had the potential to have an affininty for the Light, and perhaps it was because of the little whelp's proximity to me and others who were sensitive to the Light's warmth and call. This affinity was further exposed when A'dal taught Saphrit Divine Storm and how quickly my little one picked up mastery of such a powerful Divine spell; in all my years, to see a young whelp stand with confidence as he commanded a holy storm that raged around him was as awe-inspiring as the Naaru themselves. This experience has convinced me to allow Saphrit to visit Shattrath on a regular monthly basis for Paladin training. Under the tutelage of A'dal and several of the local Exarchs, and with my old friend Kbel as a mentor, Saphrit has chosen to take up the paths of the Hammer and the Shield. I expect my son will do well with his training, as he has already made me proud in our time traveling together.

I think that will be all for the night. For Terrothanes's and Saphrit's sake, I have decided to stay in Shattrath for a little while longer to watch and help them train in their respective vocations. The morrow will be an important day for both, and I intend to be there for them.

Until we meet again, dear reader, may your troubles be diminished and may the Light guide your path.

-End Log

((You find a book made of wood, sinew, and leather parchment, carefully wrapped in an oilskin with a tattered quill pen and a dry block of berry ink. It appears to be a journal of some sort, a very old one and clearly very fragile in spite of the materials it had been made of. With great care and curiosity, you open the journal and scan the pages until a particular entry catches your eyes.))

--------------

I think I owe you an apology, dear reader. It has been a few days since I last wrote upon these pages, and I know I had intended to tell you what Terrothanes was so eager to tell me. Up front, though, my dear reader, the news he had given me was very unsettling, though, I could tell he was more shaken by this news than myself.

Terrothanes recounted a day he was escorted for a little daytrip back on Azeroth, as he was feeling a mite homesick after spending several weeks in Shattrath. Most of it was back in the vicinity of Dalaran, where Terrothanes was reunited with several friends he had grown up with, some of them young dragons. Before he returned to Shattrath via a Dalaran portal, however, a few of his young dragon friends and one of his Netherwing wardens vanished. He spent the remainder of his visit helping as part of the search party for his friends, sensing that they could be in grave danger. I am sad to report that none of the missing dragons were to be found before Terrothanes returned to Shattrath, and there was still no word of them to this day.

The poor lad was going through enough before this, dear reader. Not knowing where his teacher is, being cooped up in places where he didn't want to be, being hunted by black dragons... I'm surprised that in his growing grief, he hasn't lost his mind utterly, yet. Oh, Source, I pray he stays sane. I have witnessed what would happen when one with his potential power loses his mind, and that one time lent a hand to a catastrophe.

I had decided to make my Outland base Shattrath for Terrothanes's sake. I make sure to return every sunset to check on Terrothanes's progress and provide him desperately needed moral support. This support usually comes in the form of one on one time, where we share snippets of our day, and I have to admit, from our interactions thus far he did dearly miss the company of his closest Azerothian friends.

My young friend has taken a keen interest in my quest to cover the lore of Azeroth and beyond, and we spend the nights before bedtime here talking about the various quests and encounters that have become an integral part of my catalog. He is looking forward to returning to Azeroth one day, and he hopes he would be able to stay. I can sense, however, that he knows it will be a very long time before he does... And just as well. Things are growing so dark in our world, and his mind is still not prepared to handle just how gravely affected Azeroth is and how adversely it would affect him in turn.

As for today, my journeys had taken me and my companions, the brothers Lightbroken (Kbel and Moutekea) into darkest Nagrand and to Telaar, their home. As per our agreement, the bodyguard services the twin Draenei provided up to this point were dissolved, but they vowed to keep in contact with me and with young Terrothanes when I return to Azeroth for the next leg in my journey.

Before I left Nagrand, however, the local Kurenai urged me to visit the Ring of Blood to watch a few gladiatorial matches. Now, as a practicing druid, it's pretty obvious that one would have an adverse dislike for bloodsports like gladiatorial arena, but I did wish to be polite to my hosts and obliged them. When we arrived at the arena, it turned out to be open ring night, and any and all challengers were welcome to face the 5 toughest champions of the house in a one-on-one battle gauntlet. I didn't think it was a good idea for any one spectator to try, and I wisely decided to stay in my seat... Unfortunately, my children were insisting that I go in and fight, and when I noticed that my constant acquaintance, Miss Tuan, was also in the crowd signing me up for the next line up... Well, I guess I really didn't have a say in the whole ordeal, now did I?

Seeing as I'm still able to hold a pen and recount my tale, one can easily guess the outcome of my semi-unwilling run through the gauntlet against Nagrand's finest gladiators. Yes, Miss Tuan came away from her little stunt with enough coin to last her a good long while, and my children thoroughly enjoyed watching their father battling in the ring. The smiles on Rii-nee's and Saphrit's faces were more than enough reward for suffering the slight indignity of being forced into the ring and the sore muscles and bones (and scars...) that came with combat. I was asked to join the circuit after completing the matches, but personally, I'll leave combat for the battlefield, thank you very much.

That aside, I have a few more places to visit during my stay here in Outland, then I will be making my way home to Azeroth, and one more fray into the cold, snowy reaches that serves now as a prison for a threat that once almost succeeded in destroying our world.

In the meantime, though, I await word from my Tauren thero'shan, Dano Mesachaser. In his last correspondence with me, he displayed interest in the teachings and philosophy behind the druidic sect I once represented. My response was a little hefty... and I did leave some details out for the sake of brevity, but if dear old Dano is as interested as he says, I'm sure he will ask for more and for specifics.

The hour is late now, dear reader, and I must rest for the day ahead of me.

Until we meet again, may your troubles be diminished and may the Light guide your path.

-End Log

((Out of Character Warning! -- As of this postdate, the following entry contains some minor spoilers in regards to the lore of Cataclysm. Read at your own risk!))

((You come across what looks to be some sort of hearthstone, but the stone's markings are different from most other hearthstones you've seen. Upon touching the stone, it begins to glow, and your mind pictures a blind Tauren and an ancient Night Elf conversing with each other.))

((The old Tauren speaks first.))

Shan'do Pterneldan,

It has been long since I last sent word to you about my progress. First, I must apologize for the speed of my personal training. As of this correspondence, I have only gained one more season's worth of skill. One the other hand, I have found myself more in a position to teach others what I have learned from you, but unfortunately, I have very little knowledge of your particular style of druidism. All I know for certain is the basic knowledge that Elder Brother Runetotem has given to all of the Tauren druidic neophytes.

Hence why I have sent this memory stone to you. I have long ago sensed that you wish to revive your lost sect and its teachings. Shan'do, I ask that you teach me what you can so that I may spread your teachings to the ones who would receive it here where I am. Hard times are coming, as we both know, and perhaps your path would be key in keeping the hope for peace and balance in the days ahead. And if your premonitions hold true, even a single thread of hope may be all that is needed to repair peace.

I await to hear your answer, Shan'do. May the Earthmother smile upon you, and may her winds be ever at your back.

-Dano Mesachaser

---------------------------------------------------------

((The Night Elf speaks.))

Dano, Thero'shan and friend,

Need I say again that you need not be so formal around me, brother? I do not mind us going by a first name basis, as you and I are both venerated amongst our peoples. Yes, it is true that I am several thousand years older than you, bat as far as I see it, you are a peer and an equal.

And you also do not need to worry about your pace, Dano, my friend. I am happy enough to know that you are making progress of any sort. You need to take your training easy as you are moving from one vocation to another. The last thing we need is you to shoot lightning when you should be calling down nature's fury.

*the image of the night elf chuckles lightly, then continues*

Kidding aside, your offer to teach the path of the Druids of the Pack to the people of the Horde has certainly gotten my attention. I would be honored to teach you as much as I can when I can, as our rough little memory stones can only hold so much. The most I can leave you with now are a little history, some proverbs, and little snippets of our sect's teachings and philosophy. Do keep in mind, that this path had made us somewhat unpopular with the rest of Druidism at large, and for good reason, I suppose...

*the night elf pauses for a moment, likely to compose his thoughts*

I think I should start us off with a little history, then.

As you already know, after the War of the Ancients, many Kaldorei men heeded the call of Cenarius, and trained to become druids through the proxy of Shan'do Malfurion Stormrage. From the path of Cenarius, the ideologies Druidism diversified into the many sects we know today. Each sect was represented by one of the Ancients, the animal demi-gods that served as part of the Kaldorei pantheon before and after the Sundering.

For example: those who took up the path of the bear brothers, Ursoc and Ursol, became the Druids of the Claw; while the druids who took up the path of the bird goddes, Aviana, became the Druids of the Talon. The Druids of the Whisker are represented by the Great Panther Spirit, the Druids of the Fang chose the Great Serpent, the Druids of the Antler took up the path of Malorne, the Great White Stag, the Druids of the Branch walk the path of the Ancient Protectors, the great tree spirits that wander Kaldorei lands, and so on... Of course, the majority of the newer druids that have joined the ranks of Druidism in recent years have not yet taken up a specific path -- these druids follow the basic teachings of Cenarius, and are thus called Druids of the Wild, as you currently are. Because of the diversity of the druidic sects, an archdruid was chosen from each sect to represent their ideologies in the council of the Cenarion Circle.

In these formative years of the druidic orders, there were some druids who had taken up the path of the wolf, choosing the Great White Wolf, Goldrinn, as their patron Ancient and totem. These druids became known as the Druids of the Scythe. Shan'do Stormrage, out of concern, warned these druids that their chosen totem was too dangerous to be reliable -- the ferocity and tenacity that was innately in the wolf would make the forms they would inherit from Goldrinn's presence difficult to control.

Long story short, these druids spurned the Cenarion Circle and the support they would have provided (had the council considered to also disregarded the Shan'do's warning about Goldrinn) and fled deep into the forests of what would soon become Lordaeron to practice their ill-begotten ways. It wasn't long before their bodies and minds were consumed by Goldrinn's will, just as Shan'do Malfurion had warned. I was among those sent by the Cenarion Circle to seal away the savagekin that were once the Druids of the Scythe beneath the barrow roots of Tal'doren, and I will admit that I did not come away from that experience without impact to my being.

I sensed that there would be others who would wish to shrug off the lesson the fate of the Druids of the Scythe would have taught wiser druids, and continue pursuing Goldrinn as their totem. I will also admit that I had begun to hear Goldrinn's call by the time our expedition across the Great Sea had returned to Auberdine Port. After seeing what had become of the Druids of the Scythe... *shakes head* I was no hurry to find myself sealed away as they were.

*pauses again and grimaces a little* I'm taking far too long now, am I old friend? *chuckles*

To make a long story even shorter, after some council with Shan'do Malfurion, and some careful observations in regards to Goldrinn's power and his effect on his followers, a few colleagues and I had come to some conclusions that we felt would hopefully curb the uncontrollable feral tendencies of the path of the wolf. The hitch was that we needed to see if they worked, and as expected, the bulk of the Cenarion Council was not keen on seeing another disaster like the Druids of the Scythe. In the long lives of the Kaldorei, the memory of the savage worgen were still fresh in our minds. If not for the intervention of the more balance oriented archdruids and some timely interest from Shan'do Malfurion and Cenarius, our grand experiement would have never taken off.

And thus the Druids of the Pack were formed.

Now, even though we did have some support from the Cenarion Council, Druidism as a whole did not recognize the Pack as a canon sect, and just as well, considering our success was hinging on building off the failure of the Scythe. In their eyes, because our totem was Goldrinn, as it was with the Druids of the Scythe, we were no better than our predecessors. In a way, they were right... but we did have one key difference that distinguished the Pack from the Scythe.

We did not withdraw from our people as the Scythe had.

In our studies of the nature of the wolf, we found that it is as much a loyal creature as it is ferocious. Alone, a wolf is a dangerous and desperate creature, cruel, cunning, and opportunistic... and it has to be if it wishes to survive. However, when joined with its pack and its family, a whole new side of the wolf emerges -- one that is tender and kind, and one that fiercely loyal to its pack. We, the Druids of the Pack, realized that in the context of community, the ferocity of the wolf had direction and purpose, and in turn balanced the wolf's overwhelming power in favor of peace and harmony. In contrast, the Druids of the Scythe, choosing to spurn their community and their people in their hubris after receiving reprimand from Shan'do Stormrage, became lone wolves in their quest to command Goldrinn's power... only to find themselves easy prey for their totem's tenacious and chaotic ferocity.

Still, even though we had proof to validate our claims, the majority rule of the Circle insisted that we, the Pack, seclude ourselves, but remain close enough for them to observe us as we practiced our version of the Scythe's path. We agreed to the quarantine, but only if we were not totally cut off from Kaldorei society at large, as community was crucial if those who walked our path were to keep their minds.

*a cold chuckle* I sometimes wonder if those stuffy fools were trying to sabotage us...

Thankfully, if they were, those efforts to sabotage us failed. A few hundred years in semi-solitude and careful observation later, we concluded that balancing ferocity with community succeeded in making Goldrinn's power viable... but it was a very fine line to walk. And in those formative centuries, I regret to say that I had a few thero'shans that had succumbed to Goldrinn's savagery and they were subsequently interned in a deep eternal sleep for their sakes. Regardless, our quarantine was lifted and, even though we were not considered a canon sect, an Archdruid of the Pack was chosen to represent our ideals in the Circle; as for by that time, the Pack had grown enough to be noticeable, and the public at large would not be so privvy as to what sect was canon or not.

*a pause*

So you see, Dano, dear friend... not that I wish to dissuade you, but as I have said before, the path of the Pack is unpopular for a reason. It is up to you if you wish to continue seeking the path of the wolf.

If you are still willing to walk with the wolf, I will leave you with a few proverbs to meditate upon as your travel and train.

May your troubles be diminished, Dano, my friend, and may the Light guide your path.

Pterneldan Crosdeep

------

((A series of proverbs echo through your mind, and part of you is compelled to listen. Whether or not you do is your decision alone.))

"The wolf knows his place within his pack, and will do his duty to the best of his ability."

"The wolf must never hold a grudge, but the wolf must never forget."

"Passion without knowledge is foolish. Knowledge without wisdom is dangerous. Wisdom without passion is useless. One must have all three, or one will have nothing at all."

"The wolf without a pack is a wolf without a purpose. When the wolf is without a purpose, he will make one."

"No one pack member is greater than another, for even weakest wolves can outshine their leaders."

"The only thing more dangerous than a lone wolf is a pack full of lone wolves."

"The wolf is loyal to his pack. His knows his place. He knows his purpose."

"Loneliness consumes the wolf faster than any rage."

...

"The wolf must never be left alone."

((You find a book made of wood, sinew, and leather parchment, carefully wrapped in an oilskin with a tattered quill pen and a dry block of berry ink. It appears to be a journal of some sort, a very old one and clearly very fragile in spite of the materials it had been made of. With great care and curiosity, you open the journal and scan the pages until a particular entry catches your eyes.))

--------------

It has been a few days since I recieved word from young Terrothanes. Truth be told, dear reader, I find myself both comforted and uneasy at the news his letter delivered.

On the one hand, I am pleased to learn that Terrothanes has adjusted well to the sanctuary the Naaru of Shattrath provided for him. His prescribed training with the Netherwing flight is progressing along at a steady clip, and he has made some friends during his stay. Now, for some reason, Terrothanes's compatibility with the Netherwind doesn't surprise me... Of course, that little tangent is best left to be explained in another entry.

However, though I am greatly relieved in regards to Terrothanes's well-being, what is leaving me unsettled is the lack of information and contact my young friend had in regards to his mentor and foster father, Gilthoniel Freezeflame. All that Terrothanes knows for certain is that his master was sent on yet another mission by the Kirin Tor.. and the poor lad has no idea what that mission was or how long it would be.

As for myself, I will be arriving in Shattrath soon. The necessary preparations were made, and those preparations did include a little trip back to Westfall. I was going to visit Grimbooze Thunderbrew up in the Daggerhills to capitalize on a little favor he owed me after sending me and my family all across Azeroth to brew up a few pints of the rare "Sweet Amber". When I arrived at Sentinel Hill, though, a familiar face greeted me at the Gryphonmaster's station.

Yes, dear reader, Lady Tuan and I crossed paths, yet again. This time, the young human had caught wind of a traitor to the local thieves' guild known as the Defias, and he was bartering knowledge of his former employers' hideout in exchange for his life. Thankfully, Gryan Stoutmantle was a close friend of my missing mage colleague, Gilthoniel, so while I asked if the grizzled paladin if he had heard anything from our mutual friend, I also offered to lend a hand in watching the former Defias member as he revealed the location of the Defias's base of operations.

Long story short, the traitor led us to a fairly innocuous abandoned barn far in the back of the ghost town of Moonbrook, then fled shortly after. Inside the barn, Miss Tuan and I found a deep and expansive set of tunnels and shafts... in short, a full blown mining operation. Now, my young human companion didn't hesitate to take advantage of this, but we both sensed there was something very amiss in regards to these mining tunnels. Miss Tuan then recalled that she had another favor to do for a dwarven miner who had lost his brother in a mining accident; I correctly assumed that the said favor was to find this miner's brother and confirm if he was alive. The good news was, he was alive. The bad news was, he was undead. Some fiend deep in these mines had used necromancy on the platoon of dead dwarven miners and raised them as disfigured ghouls and skeletal horrors, forced to dig out the mines forever. The very least we could do was free the creatures from their unnatural torment.

While fighting the undead miners, Miss Tuan somehow got cursed with magic that was eating away at her health. Thankfully, my time in Northrend had taught me a few tricks in regards to fighting these curses, and after a few tense moments and a liberal application of cleansing nature magic, Miss Tuan was back on her feet and fighting again.

Before we parted ways (Miss Tuan did leave rather abruptly, and she did seem to be a little unsettled about our discovery beneath that Moonbrook barn), I introduced Miss Tuan to Saphrit, my adopted son, in a rather roundabout way. As I was sending him back to Ironforge with a package for my friend, Rustygiir, he shifted into his dragonwhelp form to better help facilitate his escape from the underground mines. Miss Tuan was a little surprised by this, but she did assure me that Safrit's secret was safe.

After that little adventure, I finally visited that crazy singing dwarf that lived in the hills, and retrieved the item I had left with him: a phial of sacred water from a spring in Stranglethorn vale. Along with the trinket I retrieved in Redridge, I now had two of the items I had stowed away for safekeeping for a particular purpose... a purpose I am now starting to recall a bit more clearly now.

*a blot of ink is on this part of the page, indicating a moment of thought*

Dear reader, I am now beginning to wonder what it was that Terrothanes wanted to speak to me about. I had been thinking so much about my lost friend, I must have glossed over the information my younger friend wanted to tell me. When I learn more, I will tell you in another entry, dear reader.

So until we meet again, may your troubles be diminished and may the Light guide your path.

-End Log