Letters in a Bound Leather Sleeve (Journal) by Melchisedech

[Keeper Of Lore]

My first attempt to incarcerate a gnome has gone... poorly.

Initially, I prepared to utilize one of my other creations, a gnomish net projectile weapon. It seemed simplest, and where complexity can lead to unforseen consequences, simplicity (I thought) would work best. Unfortunately, even the least involved plans can go terribly awry.

It was in Nagrand where I found my target. My initial test was not on my ultimate goal, obviously. There are procedures that must be followed, and there is something to be said for caution as well. Should my target be alerted to my presence, surely it would make her capture exceedingly difficult, if not outright impossible. Fortunately, Draenor provides me with a plethora of gnomes.

My error came, foolishly enough, when Target A-1.2 noticed me before I intended. I had presumed him to be occupied with slaughtering clefthooves, but his keen senses detected my admittedly less-than-subtle approach. I dismounted from Specter just as A-1.2 whistled to his griffon. Fearing my prey would manage withdrawal, I let fly with my gnomish net projector.

I suspect it was the fall from his rapidly ascending mount rather than poor aim on my part which contributed to A-1.2's shattered leg. Honestly, however, the fact that at least two of the net-supprt pegs punctured the target, which could not have improved the situation. He was not dead when I arrived at the point of impact, but he was not in healthy condition, either.

Target A-1.2 was mostly helpless. I was consumed by a profound fascination with the target, and I am certain that my crouching, leering presence offered him no consolation in what he must have known to be his final moments. The noises he made! I can only presume that initially he attempted to communicate in some way, either to beg for mercy or to expound on some valorous defiance. As I worked, however, the noises became less and less like coherent vocalizations and more like bestial exclamations. By the time the sounds stopped, I am certain that Target A-1.2 was utterly feral, completely unaware of his surroundings save for the focus of physical sensation. Intriguing.

Perhaps when I have finished learning all I can from Target Prime, she, too, will serve to fascinate me.

[Keeper Of Lore]

I met a sin'dorei priestess in Silvermoon last eve, while the Grim were out slaying Magtheridon. Her name was Lelea Sunfury, and she gave some surprising and painful insights into the impression the Grim is making on the Horde.

We have a problem with our image, no doubt. She was at least as aware of our blood elf depravity as she was our reputation as slayers of the Alliance. In fact, she suggested we look to our own eyes first. I countered with the rationale that the Alliance will not give us the chance to sort out our skeletons before they slaughter us, but I agree with her position. We have fallen drastically.

It is my hope that Malebrignon will repair the damage caused, not BY Lascivious but during her reign. It will take a great deal of time and digging, and I suspect the upheaval will not be pleasant. There have already been repercussions for some.

I look forward to a time when I can look at my tabard and feel only my pride, without the lingering taint of embarrassment.

Research on capturing Target Prime continue. Responses regarding my family reunion are slim, possibly insufficient. I worry that, this evening, two or three Grim will be all that appear, the others distracted from the Mandate by their own desires within the Tower or elsewhere. Time will tell.

[Keeper Of Lore]

I should not have worried. The Grim came through, as usual.

On Friday, we assaulted Stormwind. It was a brief strike, surgical, if you will. There were but three fists. The Inquisitor, damn her soul, and two of our rogues summoned us into the canals, from whence we ventured forth. A few unfortunate Alliance were silenced before we reached our target, but in the end, we struck into the bank.

My father was there, and I saw him fall, though I do not know who struck the blow. Regardless, I have acquired my funds, and I saw more than one Grim helping him- or herself to pocketfuls of gold from the bank. All their croupiers were slain, one by my own hand. Mostly, however, we caused havoc and chaos.

It was exceptional.

I had some small hope that Target Prime might be in attendance, but I did not see her. No matter. My mother yet remains at large, though I am considering utilizing unique sources to locate her. Perhaps I owe Aest an apology? A horrifying thought.

Construction will resume apace. It was a good day.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Construction resumed today. A master artisan is coming from Silvermoon to inlay silver runes of exacting quality into the floor, and two shu'halo will make the trek from Thunder Bluff to replace and decorate the wood paneling on the walls. "Tree singing" I think they called it. It should prove interesting, and for what I am paying, it should be luxurious as well. Furniture should arrive by the end of the week, and I have commissioned a special catafalque from Undercity. It should provide exquisite repose.

Once I attain furnishings, I shall import my library, meager as it is. Then the preparation of the altar can be performed. I may even section off a corner of the chamber for more private functions. Spiritual purification, and the like. The beams above are sturdy enough, thank the Light, and Tarren Mill possesses both forge and anvil. I can craft the bolts, screws, and chains I will need in the future.

I have progressed in my methods of capture. I have, to date, managed to secure three additional gnomish subjects, and I believe that the time is ripe to proceed. Target Prime has exposed herself repeatedly in Netherstorm. Tonight, I plan to make an initial foray and hopefully return with a captive. The holding cell is nearly complete, and I shall finish it by midday.

I have begun on a schematic for a device that could conceivably replace a living heart. Obviously, testing will be problematic, but that should be much more feasible once I have access to Target Prime. I have noticed repeatedly how inefficient the human body truly is. Undeath has certainly enhanced its economy, but still, I feel that improvements can be made. I look at the arcanite dragonling I have crafted, and I wonder if yet greater life could be achieved.

[Keeper Of Lore]

by Greebo

(( Greebo would like to remind Mel of their conversations as we merrily traipsed and slaughtered our way through Old Hillsbrad (smiting just a wee bit harder due to our disgust at the illusions we wore). The human form *is* inefficient at many tasks compared to, say, insects or fish. But it is the mass production that allows it continue with such inefficiencies. The economics of your automaton doom it to a bespoke and luxury status. ))