Mardus Torwin

Things in the Outlands are still dangerous. The siege at the portal continues, and there are more than demons in this world to contend with. I feel as though I am making a difference, but I suppose it’s foolish to think that one person can change the tide of a war. The line at the siege didn’t fall while I was away, though I’m sure that were it not for myself and all the others who have broken through to combat the more latent dangers of this place that the defenders would be hard pressed to keep the Legion from pushing through the portal.

Light, do I know that, even? The Sons of Lothar have held their position at Honor Hold for some twenty years…why, with reinforcements, couldn’t they hold the still? I suppose it largely depends on the forces the Legion can bring to bear…who knows if this has always been the way of things or if the attacks have grown with the opening of the portal? Or if these are all the forces the Legion wishes to bring on. Wars aren’t often fought by sending the cavalry at the enemy wall…it may be that the waves we see now are merely the forward shock-troops. If that’s the case, then every defender of Azeroth has a grim task ahead of them.


Lately I’ve made a more concerted effort to return home, what with the time Antigone and I spent together in the Vale and celebrating her birthday, it has been difficult to pull myself away from the immeasurable work that seems to need doing in this blasted world.

I have had one bit of luck, though, in that I was approached by a man named Tolen who offered a great service. He claimed to be some sort of researcher, and came to me in Darnassus after observing the group I led with Antigone into the depths of that foul school, Scholomance. Particularly he noted the armor I’d recovered – a fine piece, though morbid in its design. He said he thought he knew where he could find more of it, and would provide it for me if I like, in exchange for information regarding the major Legion forces in the Outlands. Apparently, he himself had snuck into Scholomance and stolen several books, one of which described a powerful ritual he feared the Legion might try to perform. It seems a more than fair exchange, and though I don’t have time to delve through dungeons, I can certainly use the better equipment at a cost of keeping my eye open.

I think I’ll try and get some sleep now. Lately I’ve begun having dreams that are…unpleasant. I’m not sure why they would start again now, but with any luck they’ll clear off soon enough.

I found this journal as I was arranging my things...I haven't written in it for some time and...Light, it seems like so long ago, now. Granted a lot has happened in that time.

The Syndicate or the Wyverns or whatever they're called, now...they've dispersed or are laying low. Except for Froderick...and I don't know where he is now, either. Antigone...well. She's told me she refused the offer he made, and I believe her. *There are a few more words written after this, but they are scratched out to the point of illegibility.*

Darnassus has been in a state of political upheaval since Shirath was given back her memory. Apparently she was once a traditionalist leader in Darnassus who wanted nothing to do with the Alliance and -still- wants nothing to do with the Alliance...she's a damn fool. Even if her claims were true, the Alliance is threatened by both the Horde and the Scourge at once, and now...now the Burning Legion has returned as well.

The Dark Portal which had been inactive for decades has re-opened. The demons attempted to press through the Portal but were held back by the Argent Dawn and the Kirin Tor...as well as members of the Horde. They were able to push the Horde back, but have made little progress into the world they found themselves in...the Outlands. What was once Draenor. This place was supposed to have been utterly destroyed, and from the looks of it those claims were not far off...

Gah, I thought I'd mentioned that already...I've gone through the portal myself. I'm sitting now, as I write, in Honor Hold, the Alliance stronghold in what's called Hellfire Peninsula. The place is...it's legendary. I mean...Danath Trollbane and the Sons of Lothar are here...alive! The heroes who fought through the Dark Portal when the Horde invaded during the Second War...they've survived and have carried on the battle since with no connection to the Alliance...to Azeroth, even. Their strength and endurance is what gives courage to those troops who march through the newly opened Portal, I think...

But this place is blasted...the ground shakes, fire explodes seemingly at random...the sky...it's like nothing I've ever seen - ever dreamed about, even, though it's more like a nightmare than a dream. The creatures that creep this land...orcs that are somehow larger and more savage than those we know on Azeroth, great beasts of all shapes and sizes - most of which are hostile. Light, and of course the Demons...I have never seen the likes of them before. A monstrosity leads siege at the Dark Portal, sending giant infernals and legions of smaller minions against the defenders there. Further back in their lines are six-armed fiends and Fel Guards of monstrous sizes...

Light, and the giant Fel Machines that stomp around this place...as though some Gnome went completely mad. I have never seen anything so large...maybe some of the more ancient dragons, but...the ground quakes when they move, and they announce their presence with...I'm not sure if it's truly a roar or not, but it is deafening all the same.

This is a broken world...all that stands between the horrors here and Azeroth is the Alliance and...and the Horde which we have been thrown into another precarious partnership with. I'm no politician and have no purpose in Darnassus as such...they can quibble all they like, but I'm needed here. Yet...

Light, I find more and more my thoughts turn to Antigone here. I wonder if she's safe? After what happened in the Gorge...I worry that if she comes here...*At this point there are four different beginnings of words that have been scratched out.* I want her to be successful, but...I don't see how she could hope to control what was happening in the Gorge at all. If I had not been there, who knows what might have happened. And now, this place...it's rife with demons and Light knows what else...if I'm not there for her and she tries to control this situation as well...

Bah. I've written to long. I may try to write again later if all goes well. If not, then let this serve as a last entry if it's ever found. I love Antigone. I served the Alliance. I served Darnassus, my home.

Mardus Torwin
Field Aegis
Retribution of Arathor

(( This is in response to Antigone's "Summonings" post, and is written with some help from Antigone herself, because yar. I'm not Antigone. It's not completed yet, but if I didn't post what I have done I would be flayed, salted, drawn and quartered by the end of the day. ))

Mardus awoke before opening his eye, exploring the morning with his other senses first. The warm, soft Darnassian bed, the sound of a light rain washing over the city outside, the smell -- he knew that smell. Familiar and comforting, it was sulfur and fire masking pride and a tenderness Mardus was pleased to know was reserved largely for him alone. He blinked a few times, the purple light filtering in from the open wall, playing across the features of the small room.

He smiled, lookver over Antigone's profile. Lately she'd spent more and more of her nights at study in the warlock laboratories in Stormwind or Ironforge. He leaned in closer, the smile fading as he noticed ash and scorches on her face. What...? Slowly he pulled away, taking care not to disturb her beyond moving the light sheet that covered her.

"Light..." he whispered, his eye widening. She had been hurt, he saw - burned by Fel magic, he recognized that as well. Light, is she... No, she was still breathing; small shallow breaths, nearly hisses marked the life in her that Mardus feared for. He let out a small sigh of relief, though his mind raged. Why didn't she contact me? Will she be alright? Light, the priestesses...damn, they will ask, and she... An idea struck him.

He quietly slid out of bed, moving across the room as carefully as he could. He pulled on his boots and a shirt, stepping out of the room into the drizzle. As he reached the ground level he broke into a run, not stopping until he found himself in front of the Temple of the Moon. He composed himself for a few moments before entering the beautiful domed structure. Immediately the calming present of Elune washed over him, though the urgency of his entrance did not go unnoticed by the priestesses attending the gardens surrounding the central fountain, a massive stone sculpture of Elune herself.

The priestesses approached him. "Elune-adore, Mardus Torwin." The musical Kaldorei language flowed from the senior priestess. She raised a slender hand in greeting and Mardus returned with a quick, if not slightly discourteous bow. "Are you well?"

Mardus nodded, checking his pace. "Ay-yes, priestess...thank you. But I am in need." The priestes bowed her head, smiling warmly. "What service can Elune provide you?" Mardus was caught by a passing confusion. So many Night Elves seemed to know his name. He'd been in Darnssus, serving the city and the Sentinels for nearly a month, but word of his accomplishments seemed to have spread. If it can serve me now, so much the better.

"Priestess, I have need for anything which might help with burns from Fel magics..." He mentioned the specific nature of the burns with some hesitation, quickly adding. "Some of my fellows in the Retribution of Arathor have been wounded in Felwood and seek aid there."

The priestess raised a long eyebrow at the mention of Fel, but nodded firmly. She turned, speaking to the other priestesses in the melodious Darnassian tongue. The two moved away as their senior turned back to MArdus, again speaking in Alliance Common. "A supply of Blessed water from and runecloth - you can prepare bandages?" Mardus nodded, and after a few moments the two younger elves returned, one carrying a large crystal flask filled with clear, almost azure water, the other bearing a bundle of dimly shimmering cloth. "The druids at the Cenarior Enclave might be able to provide you with more."

Mardus bowed deeply to the priestesses, accepting the items. He was genuinely grateful for the items, but was more relieved that they had not pressed him with questions. "My thanks, Daughters of Elune. Elune-adore." The words seemed somehow more harsh from his mouth, but the priestesses all bowed in response. "Elune-adore, Mardus Torwin."

He quickly left the temple, emerging into the now heavy rainfall and taking a longer tour around the city to get back to the room and Antigone. Light, lying to the Temple? But there was nothing else for it...Antigone wouldn't have seen them and they...Light, no telling what they would have done...

The Kaldorei's ancient feud with the Burning Legion and the Fel magic they wielded - the same Fel magic researched and manipulated by warlocks - made the Night Elves' relationship with warlocks tenuous at best. Mardus knew well enough that Darnassus had given himself, but especially Antigone asylum on behalf of the Alliance - their decision to remain and live in the Night Elf capitol had onkly been allowed by Mardus's reputation with the Sentinels and the fact that no trouble had come to the city because of them. With the Separationists putting pressure on the Darnassian government, though, any popular "purges" wouldn't take more than a moment's consideration. The thoughts rattled through Mardus's mind as he jogged up the ramps which led him back to the loft room.

Mardus stripped his soaked shirt off, tossed it to the side of his small dresser and removed a dry one from the drawers. Instead of putting it on, though, he carried it and the other items from the temple over to the bed where Antigone still lay curled on her side, asleep. Gently, he sat down and began to reach for her shoulder. He stopped short when he saw her mouth moving. After leaning in closer he could make out some of the faint muttered whispers - Eredun, the language of demons. Light...it's a good thing she only whispers in her sleep...

He reached over, touching her shoulder and carefully pushing her a little bit. Antigone's whisperes ceased suddenly and her eyes snapped open. For a moment her eyes appeared jet black, but on realizing that it was Mardus waking her she allowed herself to relax, blinking a few times. "Hey..." she said softly, giving him a weak smile.

Mardus couldn't help but return the smile and the simple, yet personal greeting. "Hey." His concerned frown quickly returned, though. "Are you alright?" His voice suggested that he knew the obvious, yet he felt compelled to ask all the same. Antigone's smile twisted into a grimace and then a wince as she shifted slightly. "I've been better," she smirked. Mardus's expression persisted. "What happened?"

Antigone's dark eyes seemed to sparkle, then, as her voice gained some strength. "I completed the ritual. To summon an Infernal." Mardus caught the obvious pride in her voice and found himself feeling proud as well = he knew the time and effort she'd spent researching and preparing for the irtual by the many nights he'd spent alone in Darnassus and the days he'd had little chance to speak with Antigone. Still, it frusrated him that she had not asked for his help. He would much rather it be him that needed the services of the Temple than her.

"Well done," he allowed a small, encouraging smile before lapsing back into concern. "But why didn't you let me know firrst? I could've helped..." he nodded down at her to indicate her injuries. She shrugged very slightly. "I know. It was something I wanted to do on my own." Mardus's frown returned in full. "Doing it on your own doesn't mean you have to get hurt." He held out a hand for her to take. "Sit up."

She clasped his wrist, and instead of grasping hers, Mardus slowly pulled back until she was sitting upright. "It's not that bad..." Mardus snorted, shaking his head. "Like Hell, it's not." The irony of the remark was lost as Mardus pulled the cloth and water from the Temple forward on the bed.

Antigone eyed the water. "...What's that?" Mardus uncorked the bottle, nodding toward the open wall. "Water from the Temple of the Moon. They said it would help most with Fel-caused injury." Mardus balled his fresh shirt up, pouring some of the sparkling water into it. As he did so, Antigone seemed to lean away. "It's really not that bad, Mardus." He shook his head. Now that she was sitting, it was clear that the burns had reached her face, her arms, and especially her hands. "I knew you wouldn't want to see the priests, but at least let me do this much for you." Antigone seemed about to protest further, but relented, nodding reluctantly.

Mardus took the wetted shirt and carefully ran it over Antigone's hands and arms. As he did so she winced fiercely, her breath hissing. Mardus frowned, but continued, if not even more gently. "Sorry..." Antigone shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly and bringing her features under control with some effort. "It's...alright." Mardus nodded slowly, wetting the shirt again and drawing it over Antigone's upper arms and slowly her face.

"Let me know next time." Antigone opened one eye, her gaze locking on Mardus's own. "Let you know what?" Mardus tried to focus on Antigone's face rather than her eye. "When you need help." he responded quietly. He knew she wouldn't appreciate the repeated offer, but things like this...

"I didn't need help. I wanted to do it myself." Her tone was flat, both eyes open now and looking at Mardus. He nodded after a moment. "Aye...and you did do it yourself." For several long moments they sat silently as Mardus carefully tended to the burns. Even as they finished and Mardus wrapped the most serious of the burns on Antigone's arms and hands in the blessed runecloth they said nothing. I don't know... Antigone's voice broke Mardus's scattered thoughts. "I needed to do it on my own." Her tone had changed, at least to Mardus it had. His fond smile returned and he nodded slowly, his mind clearing. "You did."

Their conversation shifted. Antigone explained some of the details of her ritual which Mardus listened to faithfully, if not helplessly lost in the finer points. The thought still rested in the back of Mardus's mind that he should have been there to help her, but she seemed somewhat revived and still excited about her accomplishment. As long as she's okay. Just...aye. As long as she's okay.

I ran into that bastard Froderick in Stormwind after helping Frore with some trouble in the Stockades yesterday. He should pray that I never find him outside the city. The only thing keeping him safe from me are the eyes of the Guard. If I got the chance I would crush him - I'll make sure he gets what he deserves and isn't able to do any more harm.

The room in Ironforge isn't so bad with good company. The place is still cluttered, the bed is still damned hard and the forge is still loud, but Antigone and Fzuuphom waiting there was very nice. Ha ha...Fzuuphom is so very much like a puppy. He looks as though he'd be more suited fighting in a put somewhere, but so far as I can tell he's quite content to be scratched and played with...though I'm still not quite sure on how to play with him in a safe way. I wonder if he plays fetch?

Antigone says she's been having bad headaches. I suspect they're involved in whatever rituals she's been doing lately...I don't think she ever recovered from tying to resummon her voidwalker Graz'nuz, and then she went and exhausted herself helping Ravine. I'm sure she must have done other rituals since then as well...but nothing she's told me about. I wish she'd see a priest, but I won't push the matter...she's fixed against it, and talking about it only irritates her. I wish I knew more about what it is she's doing, too...if I knew more maybe I could help.

I mean to look for a way to make some tea, though. I may return to Darnassus for a while to look for something good - I'm sure the night elves must have all sorts of herbal teas that could help for all sorts of things, and I'm kicking myself for not looking for them while we were in the city. It will be nice to drink it again as well. Since we've been largely staying away from the Crimson, I haven't really had much of a chance to. I may also look into some cooking lessons...a good home-cooked meal would probably do us both some good, I think.

I should stop writing and get going, though. There's plenty to do today. Gah...I hate it when Quent is right. I'm sure wherever he is right now, as soon as I close this book he's going to be wearing his damned self-satisfied grin.

DAMN! How the hell did they find us? Some 'truce' this is if they're still harassing us...a wedding. As though I would care. "We were friends once." Right. "Once." Before you bedded a Necromancer and stood by as he tortured the people who were "once" your friends. Sorry, Ash - best of luck with your Necromancer and whatever hellspawn you two produce. He wants his damn things back, invites me to a wedding, and pushes us out of our...our home. We can't stay in Darnassus anymore...not when they know where we are and can walk right in whenever they like. The sentinels keep filth like them out of the street, but they don't patrol the homes.

LIGHT! HOW DID THEY FIND US?! *There are several marks on the page and through to the next half a dozen pages where the inkpen has been slammed down.*


We're in Ironforge now. It's not Darnassus. All the peace and quiet...now it's the noise of the forge, shouting...

We found a two-room place to live...it had been a home at one point, but was converted into a supply closet. With the troops mobilized to the Wastelands on Kalimdor, most of the storage had been moed out. The dwarves asked for coin, but were willing to move what was left over out of the way.

It's not a bad place, but...we both miss Darnassus. The waterfalls, the quiet, the trees...Light, why did they search us out? To invite us to a damn wedding? Do they think we're stupid?

Damn it...it's like being stuck underground. I can't sleep. That damn noise...


The moon, that heavenly mistress,
Who Mother called a finding pearl -
That is cast into the sky each night;
Lobbed gently into a dark ocean
That welcomes the pale maiden -
Where she dances and sinks
To join her sisters in the deep


I wish the author had given their name. I'd look for more of their poems. Maybe we're in the deep, now. Not in the ocean, but...


We are driven into the ground
To the dark and fire
I miss the forests,
The waterfalls, the quiet peace
I want to breathe again
To sleep under the moon and stars
In the rain, in the trees


I'm not a poet. I'm tired. If I can't sleep, I may as well lie down for a while.

Well, I have plenty of time to write now. Have to wait until this damned giant bat goes away. My hearthstone, guildstone and most of my other things are outside - Moonstep rode away with my packs when the thing came up on us.

Light. Riding to the chapel, and then some ungodly screech from behind. The thing is at least twice the size of any of the other "little" ones flying around this light-forsaken place. I can still hear it flapping around out there.


Hostilities with the syndicate have ended. Open hostilities, anyway. I suppose I haven't written about who they are yet. Torturers and necromancers - that's about all that needs to be said about them. That bastard, Van. His stupid lackies: the Count Froderick, his pet torturer, the bastard who took my eye, that other torturer of theirs who was on the ship and Emlee. Ash, of course. It still makes me sick thinking about that. Whatever it was that made her love him? And it is love. "Moonkiss" isn't something you say to a friend. I wonder if it's some spell or other? It'd certainly make more sense than anything else.


I miss Kitra and Marris. Thinking about Ash makes me think about them. I get the feeling that if they were still here that it wouldn't be a problem. The business with the Syndicate, I mean. Marris would have done something - known about it long before we ever did and stopped him somehow.


Damn. Still out there. I meant to stop writing, but there's nothing else to do. This isn't helping anything either. Just making me think about things I'd rather not think about. Thanks, Quent.

Things with Antigone are going well. I'm still not sure how it happened. When was it that I realized I had feelings for her? Sometime in the Vale, I guess. Or sometime before that? It must have been in the Vale. I do remember when we first met. Well, at least when we met in the Crimson. I thought it was an inn at first and went upstairs looking for a room. She was sitting up there by herself. When I asked, she looked at me like I was a walking lump of rock. Ha ha ha...I kind of felt that way. She kept talking to me though, even though I probably seemed...ah, well.


I like writing about her. The damn bat is still out there. Anyway. In the Vale. Negotiating, we called it. I mean, I'm good at what I do - I've never had trouble handling myself in a fight and the Guard always point me in the right direction for work. I have a reason to do it when she's around, though, other than just being told to do it. I guess it's sort of a way of proving myself...I push myself when I'm around her. And...well, I like protecting her. I mean, I know she doesn't need protection, because she's strong in her own right, but...

She's very nice, even though she doesn't always show it to others. Now that we're closer, I can see that. We both like poetry, which I'm glad about. And the moon. Watching the moon rise in the Vale with her...I like writing about things like that.

Gah! Damn bat tried to get into the cave. Had to move further back and now it's getting dark. I may try to sleep some. Maybe it'll be gone when I wake up.

Ahh...Quentin wanted me to write in this journal. I'm...not sure what to write, really. It's very cold in Winterspring. Oh, also, Gnomish poetry is terrible.

I -hate- dinosaurs...

I suppose I'll write more later.

MT