Letters in a Bound Leather Sleeve (Journal) by Melchisedech

[Keeper Of Lore]

((This is transferred post by post from TNG. I figured I ought to cross-post them here.))

The "journal" is really more a series of loose-leaf sheets of parchment, folded in thirds, some sealed, some not, bound by twine in a sleeve of red leather. The parchment is not dated, but each seems meticulously placed in a certain order.

"This is a waste of my time, but it was a suggestion from A'dal, and so I shall give it an honest attempt. It was suggested that I might find some solace by putting my thoughts down in writing, as if reading them will somehow change the facts of the matters, as if by writing them, I can purge the conflicting emotions within myself.

"I have three duties. Thus far, none have come into conflict, and for that I thank the Light in all its infinite mercy, for were they to come to be at odds, I have no doubt what I would choose and less doubt as to the consequences to myself.

"I serve the Light, as ordained by A'dal himself, the Light's envoy to shattered Draenor. In this, I find relief and contentment, surcease of the moral ambiguity and ethical relativism in which I have been mired most of my life and unlife. As ever, I drown my doubts in fanaticism, hurling myself fully into a path that I have come to believe, leaving no room for second-guessing.

"I serve the Grim, as permitted by Lascivious. She is the Mistress of the Grim, and I am her humble servant. Some might find a conflict in the message of the Grim and the message of the Light, but neither I nor A'dal do so. The Grim has a singular purpose, and that purpose drives me. It is the activity that takes up my time, the reason I exist. While my service to the Light and to A'dal are my moral and ethical compass, the Grim shows me how best to implement the decisions that compass helps me to make.

"Finally, I serve Acherontia. I have no doubt that she knows the depth of my devotion, because I have told her in no uncertain terms. Initially, I believed it would be she who served me, a useful pawn I could control, could manipulate into serving my goals and those of the Dark Lady. The Light is not without a sense of irony, however, and now I find myself more or less in her thrall. The truly cutting irony is that she is in no way unaware of this, and yet she seems utterly apathetic regarding the situation. She values my company, she values my skills as a priest, and yet, beyond that, she seems utterly emotionless. I have no call to suffer the scourge of jealousy, as she shows similar apathy to everyone else.

"A'dal was wrong. Putting these words down has done nothing to improve my mood."

[Keeper Of Lore]

"I have survived my interrogation. Once more, I am a full member of the Grim, no longer a minion, a pawn to be used while those around me watch and wait for me to fail, to falter. It is a relief. I pulled my tabard from the chest in my chambers, felt the fabric in my hands again. It has been too long. Perhaps I was foolish to ever leave, but the Grim is my home, my family, for better or for worse. Whether leaving was a mistake or not, it has been corrected.

"I wonder if Acherontia was somehow lenient. My inquisition was in no way strenuous. She informed me of the Mistress' commandment, that no Grim shall harm another. I informed her that I was aware of the consequences for failure. She asked why I returned to the Grim, apparently laboring under the misapprehension that I was somehow an agent of the naaru, sent to infiltrate the ranks. I disabused her of that notion, informing her that, while I was a servant of the naaru and was returning with their permission and blessing, my purpose for returning was my own.

"We enjoyed a bit of a philosophical debate on the motives of the naaru. Obviously, I am not privvy to the innermost secrets of the Light, but I shared what I could. She seemed naturally hesitant to accept that the naaru approved of the Grim. In truth, I was somewhat surprised, and for the same reasons as she, yet when I asked A'dal for clarification, he gave it gladly.

"The Light seems, at first glance, to favor the Alliance. Humans, dwarves, and draenei all find the ways of the paladin to come more or less naturally, while, for various reasons, none of the Horde seem able to learn that. And yet, A'dal assures me that it has nothing to do with faction. The war on Azeroth is so far beneath the notice of the naaru that occasionally they seem surprised that we cling to it so desperately.

"The Light blesses individuals, individuals who embrace its tenets, who show themselves worthy. What those individuals do with that blessing is left to them, but the Light is wise, and the Light knows how best to accomplish its goals. The Grim stands high in A'dal's esteem for their service to the Sha'tar, the threats they have ended. I serve the Grim and the Light both, and there is no conflict there, for the Grim serve the Light as well, even if they do not mean to or do not realize it. By serving their own goals, the Grim serve the Light.

"I have surprised Acherontia, I think, by choosing the Path of Vengeance. The threats within the Tower and the Temple are strong, but my services there are minimal. No, I feel that I can best serve the Light by serving the Grim, and the best way to serve the Grim is to deal with those threats the leadership is too busy to handle. The Alliance must go. Peace through Annihilation."

[Keeper Of Lore]

"I have failed.

Yesterday, heady with victory over Prince Malchezzar in the Tower, I allowed greed to rule me rather than reason. Not only did I deny a fellow Grim, a comrade in arms, their proper due, I weakened the Grim as a whole. I have faltered in my path.

I must and will atone. Weakness such as that cannot be tolerated, not when it comes at the expense of my allies and my surrogate family. I acted like a child, and now it is time to grow up.

There is a price to be paid for such betrayal, and that price must be paid in blood. I must find someone to exact the price publicly, for privacy is a luxury and a privilege I am no longer afforded. Brill, I think... the common square.

Mortification of the flesh can and will bring purification of the spirit. By my action was a trust rent, and by my action will it be mended. Only through suffering can my conscience be cleansed. I repent, and now I must serve penance."

[Keeper Of Lore]

There were none who wished to see my blood stain the snow in Brill. Understandable, I suppose. I do not think them weak for their absence... quite the contrary. They had more important things to do than observe my penance. I am not the focus of their lives, just as they are not the focus of mine. I did, however, follow through with the penance in private. Their absence cannot be allowed to become my weakness.

Acherontia is distant, moreso than she has been of late. Not that I have been accessible. There is nothing there, not anymore. As I look at the situation, I do not mourn her loss. I mourn what could have been, what might have been. In the end, it is for the best. That attraction, that sort of emotional dependency makes one weak.

Acherontia was a distraction, one I am thankfully rid of. Service to the Light is now my drive, service to the Grim my personal mandate. There is no place for hesitation.

My dreams of late have been enlightening. In them, over and over, I face my fears, I relive my actions. I watch, and I learn, and I try, over and over, endlessly repetitive. Monotonous, almost. I forge myself in the fires of my past, cleansing self-doubt. Every time I sleep, I do battle with myself, and every time I wake, I rise purer, cleaner, stronger, with yet another weakness slain.

Emotion and dependency are for the weak. I have been an emotional cripple since my resurrection... no. Since well before. My human life adored the crowds because he was dependent upon their acceptance, their love, however fleeting. I am Forsaken, now, and that name is not taken idly. We are Forsaken not merely because others have forsaken us, but because we have forsaken that which made us other, which made us anything else.

I sleep, now, and in my dreams I shall battle my weaker self. In slaying him, I will rise stronger and harder. I will purge a weakness from myself, taking one step closer to becoming the best I can be.

Farewell, Acherontia. Farewell, Melchisedech.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Bah. I reread my old entries... they are the self-pitying whine of a blood elf. An adolescent blood elf. I bawl like an infant.

Business. I grow more and more concerned over the Grim. Abric leads nearly nightly incursions into the Tower, but an evil yet lurks within. Magtheridon remains imprisoned in the Outland. Threats such as Doomwalker and Lord Kazzak yet rule. And worst of all, Kael'thas, Vashj, and Illidan reign supreme.

And yet, the worst threat, I fear, is within the Grim. Every time I listen to my hearthstone, I hear the same adolescent whinging that claimed me. I hear bickering in petty squabbles, juvenile lust triangles, and general irresponsibility. And when those who are NOT consumed by such irreverence seek assistance, the others seem too busy with their own infantile amusements.

I pray to the Light that I have been able to rise above my own madness, that I can now resume my duties as a Harbinger of the Grim.

[Keeper Of Lore]

"She is important to the Light. Go to her."

These were A'dal's words of command to me, regarding the Blood Moon priestess. He neglected, of course, to tell me WHY I am to spend time and effort on this newest youngling. He usually does. I wonder if the Light feels I do not need to know, or merely if A'dal cannot be troubled to give me the information.

Regardless, this priestess seems no greater or lesser than any other. She has many questions and a willingness to learn which speaks well of her mind. She does not annoy me, as so many of the sin'dorei do, as so many of the shu'halo do, but perhaps I simply do not know her well enough yet.

She DID ask some questions that come too close to Acherontia. I do not know how I feel about that subject, and so I avoided those questions as best I could.

She seems to look up to me. What does she want from me? I am no teacher. She thanked me for my wisdom. I nearly laughed. What wisdom do I have? I serve another, do his bidding. The shackles do not chafe, but they do not make me sage.

And how is she important? Is she to become a great servant of the Light? Am I to mold her, shape her into a protege? I do not have the desire to take an apprentice. Indeed, quite the contrary. I am too conflicted in my own affairs to tend to another's.

Is she to become an enemy? A force for or against? What is my role, A'dal? What do you want from me?

Bah.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Where do I go from here?

I have believed many things in my life, all with the full conviction of my being. How many of them will turn out to be wrong? Is my lesson to be never to believe anything? Lesson implies that there is a driving force molding my life... if I am forced to look at my life and take responsibility for all my actions, where will I stand? If there is no divine force guiding my choices, then my choices are all my own, made out of ignorance and false belief.

Faith, it seems, is something I lack. In the end, am I any more than a child, wandering the world hoping for an adult to give me direction? I am sinking in a quagmire of ethical relativism, hoping for an absolutist answer. I want a god to step forward and tell me, "Melchisedech, THIS is the right path, and here is an itemized list of all moral goods." I want this so much that, apparently, I am willing to follow ANYONE or ANYTHING that offers a guiding light.

I doubted my life, I doubted Sylvanus, I doubted my sanity, and now I doubt the Light. Is doubt all there is for me? Is that, then, to be the purpose of my life? Does my life even HAVE a purpose, or am I merely a speck of life on an uncaring world, dancing to whims and whimsy, justly ignored by all other beings save for whatever small impact I may make on their lives?

Does life have a purpose?

I am so desperate for someone to hold my hand that I will ask these questions of blank parchment, of the very air around me, in hopes that some supernatural force will materialize and give me all the answers. I am an idiot.

[Keeper Of Lore]

I had an interesting chat with Malethia, today. She is, perhaps, not as consumed by the hedonism of most sin'dorei. I find it oddly appropriate that a race so nearly on the edge of extinction is so thoroughly consumed by procreation. Disgraceful, but appropriate.

Regardless, she advocated an alternative view: that it is not the faith but the faithful that matters, not the strength of the worship but the strength of the worshipper. She suggested that all religions are equally valid, from the Holy Light to the blood sacrifices of the Gurubashi and Atal'ai, and only the ability of the religious masses to influence the world around them, to spread their views, is what is important, what makes one better than another.

It is a curious position, one I am certainly willing to explore further. I will watch her, observe her actions and their results. If she seems successful, and she continues to adhere to the tenets she seems to espouse, then perhaps I have found the sign I so desperately seek.

[Keeper Of Lore]

I received, by goblin mail, a letter today, from none other than Maledictus himself. For one who never met me, never even knew my name in life, he speaks eloquently of my situation, and gives sage advice. While I expected some manner of divine message, the mundane means of communication in no way lessens the impact of the advice.

We all serve. How true this is. None of us are free, and we never shall be, never CAN be. If we are not enslaved or indentured to some exterior force, political, spiritual, or mercenary, then we are slaves to our own passions. I feel it is nobler, by far, to choose a life of servitude to an individual, cause, or moral code than it is to be shackled by one's own base desires.

Once, I sought legends of the Pandaren, and found only children's tales. Yet, within those tales, I found a noble culture, dedicated and passionate, profound and moving. The Pandaren are said to be a provincial people, reserved in appearance and demeanor, yet restraining deep eddies of powerful emotion. They are proud, devoted, and above all, honorable.

Whether the Pandaren truly exist or not is, in point of fact, irrelevant. That their tales come to us, that someone, somewhere felt these traits worth mention, worth immortalization, speaks volumes. It is in their discipline, their pursuit of perfection, that I find, that we find the true lessons of the Pandaren.

To serve. What do I serve? I serve the Mandate. I have since I first heard Father Maledictus speak, though I did not know it at the time. I have claimed to serve many things, many beings and philosophies since that time, but I serve the Mandate. I do not serve the Dark Lady, save as the Mandate serves her. I do not serve the Light, save as the Mandate serves the Light. I do not even serve the Grim, save as the Mandate serves them. The Mandate was not created for the Grim, the Grim was created for the Mandate. The Mandate is before any one Grim, even before the organization as a whole.

A great schism is imminent within the Grim. Malethia may recognize this. I do not feel her loyalties lie with one individual. The Mistress has been acting peculiar lately... her loyalties are in question. Acherontia has never served the Mandate, not wholly.

Who can I trust?

[Keeper Of Lore]

I have spoken with Magister Qabian. He seems devoted to the Grim more as an ideal than as an organization. He suggests that there may be a middle ground between the Mistress and the Mandate, though that seems like adolescent folly. Perhaps I am creating a false dilemma, but I do not believe so. If the Mistress does not serve the Mandate, then there is a schism, and the choice must be made.

Qabian also seems to believe I am seeking to create this schism. Nothing could be further from the truth. If such a divide occurs, I will weep for the loss. It will weaken the Grim in a way and in a time when the Grim cannot afford to be weakened. Such an egregious occurrence would surely spell the end of all I have sought. No, Magister, I merely prepare. If there IS division, then the core of the Grim must be preserved, no matter the cost. It means more than any one person. It IS an ideal, one which must be saved. You claim that you support "neither" the Mandate nor the Mistress, but such a narrow view serves not the Mandate, and if you do not serve one, then you serve the other, in effect if not in intent.

Who shall I speak with next? Duranor? Sammuel? No, that would be foolhardy. Not Acherontia. Hmm.

[Keeper Of Lore]

She stepped down.

I am stunned, but hardly displeased. It certainly voids any concern I may have had over a conflict. I would rather have been concerned for nothing than have been oblivious or apathetic in the face of a true crisis. It seems my inquisitions have been for nothing.

My teacher is now the leader, and I feel Maledictus would approve. They were allies, in the Grim's infancy. It seems as though a circle has now closed. When Decimate collapsed, the Grim absorbed many of their members, and now their leader leads us. There was some concern that the Grim would simply become Decimate Mark II, but Malebrignon reassured us that such would not be the case. I do not know why anyone worried, Abric would never allow it.

And so we enter a new era. I look forward to the violence and fear Malebrignon will spread. It will be good to have a prophet in the seat of leadership.

The Mistress is gone. Long reign the Artificer.

[Keeper Of Lore]

With my personal inquisitions irrelevant and obsolete, I have turned my attention to other matters, namely the renovation of my cthonian lair beneath Tarren Mill. In time, it will serve as personal altar, workshop, meditation chamber, and boudouir all. For now, it merely functions to keep the rain off my notes. Mostly.

However, I have noticed a disturbing trend: these renovations drain my pockets. Funding was never an issue for me in life, but in death, ironically, my expenses have increased. I no longer enjoy the renown I once held, and so my wants and needs are not met by throngs of adulant sycophants. While this is, intellectually and spiritually, for the best, practically, there seem to be disadvantages to being mundane.

However, I have devised a solution. My human alter ego surely yet possesses great funds available in Stormwind, where my parents, so far as I am aware, still reside. I have engaged in subterfuge to encourage them to access those accounts, after which I shall incite the Grim to aid me in ransacking Stormwind, butchering my dynasty, and liberating my aforementioned funds from the clutches of the Alliance croupiers.

No, I am no mastermind, nor do I have the inclination to perform a heist. Syreena will probably disapprove of the clumsiness of my theft, but the bloodshed should atone for that, hmm?

[Keeper Of Lore]

Response to my "family reunion" has been limited. I fear I may have to devise an alternative method of retrieving my funds. I have not given up on this venture yet, but none from the Grim have replied in the affirmative. I am, I admit, disappointed in their lack of enthusiasm, but when the day rolls around, I may find myself surprised by impromptu attendance.

As for the refurnishing, it goes well. The floors are now proper stone, and I have plans to inlay them with argent, creating not merely a pleasant decoration, but also providing the necessary setting for summonings, bindings, and supplications. With limited space, I am forced to merge function and form, maximizing utility. I do not object to this.

My continuing exploration of the arts of the gnomes has led to some surprising revelations. For example, I have recently constructed a monocular goggle which not only amplifies my conduit with the Light but also allows a myriad of practical uses as well. I had never imagined that my idle dabbling would yield such results. I began this path with the intent of tinkering here and there, amusing myself and doing something productive with my hands. In the end, apparently, I have managed to create something of some use.

I plan to continue my experiments with these devices, but it appears that I can no longer garner new information from my current library of schemata. I have explored them as much as logic permits and, barring trial and error experimentation, a costly endeavor, I need new sources of education. Where better to go than the gnomes themselves...

[Keeper Of Lore]

Goblin post is a fantastic service. Whatever else I may feel regarding the Steamwheedle Cartel, their ability to translate and deliver post is nothing short of miraculous. I received a reply from my paterfamilias today. I have enclosed the correspondence for posterity.

My only concern involves the near complete lack of response from my brethren in the Grim. Enthusiasm for a bloody attack on Stormwind seems strangely absent. I certainly hope it is merely distraction preventing a reply, rather than distraction preventing the action itself. I would be most distressed.

Construction has ground to a halt. I need those funds!

In better news, however, I have managed to target a potential captive to instruct me in the esoteric Science! of the gnomes. I have drawn up convoluted plans to arrange for acquisition rather than assassination, though the embarrassment stings somewhat. Imagine, NOT killing a gnome! Ah, well.

Plans continue apace. We shall see what fruits they bear.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Originally Posted by Richard Cotter

Son,

Your mother and I are overjoyed to hear you are alive! We imagined you had died in the attack on Lordaeron. Your mother never gave up hope, though. We miss you terribly. The news that you will be coming home soon is the best we have received in years.

We made contact with your bankers, and we have your funds in our possession. You have no idea how much they will help us all, how much we look forward to rebuilding our lives with you.

We eagerly await your return. If there is anything else we can do to make your return easier, let us know. We will be looking for you. Your mother sends all her love.

-Richard Cotter