Many events have transpired since the day I last recorded my journeys. After I watched Tirion ride into the distance with his dead son draped across his horse, I sat upon my perch on the hill and wondered where I would go next. It had been a trying and emotional time with Tirion and now I was left with a deafening silence that haunted my soul. I headed back to the Under City to collect myself but decided that quiet solace would be better, so I headed to the outlying town of Brill.

I spent some time at the Inn and after a few nights of quiet observation, I became intrigued with the folk of the land and decided to stay a bit longer to learn more about the story of the Forsaken. They really were a nice bunch, you know, for the most part. There were the few exceptions who would just as soon devour your living flesh rather than wait for you to die, but I digress. I followed the folks from Brill to the Sepulcher and as far out as Tauren Mill. I listened to their tales as I assisted in the resistance against the Scarlet Crusade and performed other services as needed.

I found this excerpt on a crumpled skin at the bottom of my travel bag and thought it relevant to include in my memoirs. It was something I scratched out while in Sepulcher where it was the Worgen, not the Scarlet Crusade, who were the overpowering foe:

The hour grows late as the shadows of tomb stones stretch longer and closer together. Did you know that Sepulcher means burial place? I have to admit, sitting among graves leaves me ill at ease. The folk of Sepulcher have been nice enough, but still, I am most certainly looking forward to my journey to Tauren Mill tomorrow.

I’ve seen much these past few days, including the famed halls of the great Shadowfang Keep. The stories surrounding this mysterious place and the creatures that dwell there have blown me away. I have a feeling from within the depths of me that we (the world) will soon hear more of the worgen.

I made my way down the length of the Eastern Kingdoms as far as the Dark Portal trading my services for pieces of lore. When I reached Booty Bay in Stranglethorn Vale I was tired, both mentally and physically, and needed a break. After a few days rest taking in the sounds of the sea and breathing in the salty air, I decided to seek out my mentor before continuing on my journey. In the fog of the early morning, I boarded a boat to Ratchet where I picked up a flight to Thunder Bluff.

After spending some time in meditation, I visited with Kym Wildmane. She wanted to hear everything – all that I had seen and all that I had done. It was at that moment that I wished I had taken the time to record everything, but alas. I went through the stories and recounted them beginning to end for her. The story of Tirion Fordring and the battle with the worgens at the Sepulcher were most intriguing to her. I finished the story with the brief respite I took in Strangethorn prior to my trip back to Thunderbluff. The day was growing long as the shadows creeped across the dirt and Kym brought our visit to a close. She asked that I stay in Thunder Bluff for a while as she consulted with the elders and the spirits, a request that I was grateful for.