[IC-journal] Being topside

Entry one: Humble beginnings

28 AtDP. Late Winter.
Dear Journal

So here I am, recording my thought’s as best as I can with words.
I suppose the beginning is down in that pit of death I’d like to call home. Yup, that’s right: Gnomeregan. Like most gnomish war veterans (fought in the second war if you must know), I stayed down there throughout the Trogg wars and stayed behind during the crisis to try to help those trapped in there out. Been in most major engagements: Ventilation shaft 82, Maintenance shaft 15B and the fall of the Hangar. Stayed in the clean zone like the rest of us, we occasionally made excursions out to save some poor soul trapped in the place.
Anyways… a few months back I had the misfortune of running into an ambush with my patrol. Bloody troggs came from round the corner, never even heard them. Fought like demons we did, for each one of us to go down at least twenty of the freaks fell before our blades. Ended up before this huge one, biggest one I ever saw. Was a split second too slow, thought I was done for.
Woke up in Anvilmar hospice a week later, seems my patrol drove them off and dragged me all the way back to the clean zone. I was a bit too hurt to treat down there so I was brought out with some refugees the next time supplies came. They sent me here to recover.
The priests had some trouble with me, got a nasty fever and caught gangrene in the foot. Had to take it off. I tinkered together a replacement soon enough. The rest of the time I spent training my swords arm and stamina back into shape. Amazing how quickly the body grows weak when one can’t move.
Most of my little remaining stuff was ruined in the fight, so I’ll have to replace it. I suppose I’ll have to stay topside for a while, doing some “merc-work” when the Tinker’s Court isn’t in need of me to get some money for proper stuff. Never figured I’d be a bloody dog of war.
I managed to scrape together enough money for some knives, a suit of maille and a well balanced fransica. That last one is a light-send I tell you. Got a contract by a dwarf to do some scouting on some local trolls, it was simple enough. I kept to the shadows, trying to avoid them and made some notes about their numbers, weapons, living arrangements and other stuff. Only one of them ever saw me, but I hit square in the face with the fransisca before he got a cry out. Allowed me to get close enough and slit his throat. Tusk-face got what he deserved if you ask me; bastard had a necklace of dwarven teeth.
Got back and handed him my report, the fellow was rather grateful and wondered if I could bring his report to his brother in Kharanos. I was thinking I’d head in that direction anyways so I accepted. Leaving the inn here in Anvilmar at dawn, said good bye and thanks to the priests in the hospice. I don’t expect to come back anytime soon.
Lieutenant Jayanti Flashcharge.
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So I thought I’d start up a small project; while leveling this character and exploring the DB Azeroth (and Outland) I’d keep a journal which I’d post here for everyone’s enjoyment. I thought I’d mention people I meet, areas I visit and in some cases quests I do (no, I’m not going to claim to be the one who kills Van Cleef or Illidan or such. But I might kill some murlocs or such). I’ll try to stay as closely to lore (both server lore and actual lore) as I can, but I will take some artistic freedom where I feel it’s appropriate. I will also opt for a bit grittier a perspective of Azeroth. There will be magic and dragons yes, but fighting is like in real life freakishly dangerous and you better fear death by knife more than death by dragon.

Feel free to comment and give constructive criticism on both my writing and my view on the lore. (I do wonder who can find the wow webcomic reference in the entry above first).

Entry two: Dun Morogh

Dear Journal

I got out of Coldridge valley without too much fuss, spent most of the day walking but got to Kharanos before it got dark. Managed to get myself a room and I didn’t begin to look for Whitebeard’s brother until the next morning.

So I am now in Dun Morogh proper. What can be said about the place? It’s a huge highland plateau in the northern part of the Redridge expanse, the mountain range that covers most of the continent. It is a series of valleys separated by hills or small ridges and ringed in by the huge Khaz Mountains. No matter where you look you’ll always see a skyline of peaks in the distance, unless of course you’re standing at the foot of one of the peaks at which point you’ll see the cliff wall.

Just about half of the plateau is located above the tree line and is covered by snow for the entire year, the lower parts see some brief snow-free weeks in the summer. The valleys supposedly turn into beautiful seas of grass and the ram herders return from the Khaz’Modan lowlands at the time to allow their beasts to feed upon the grass of the mountains.

Ironically, the highlands are very sparsely inhabited. The dwarves, who make up for the majority of the population, aren’t very fond of being alone. Despite their gruff attitude and their unreasonable stubbornness, dwarves are very social creatures. Unlike us gnomes who can simply forget the existence of the outside world when we tinker, the dwarves never seem to be comfortable without a few hundred kinsmen around. This means that all dwarves in the region are gathered in a few settlements, and the rest of the plateau is virtually untouched wilderness.

Kharanos is really a typical, albeit larger, example of dwarven settlements. The town got one of the distillery-inns, a smithy and a large collection of residences, mostly underground. The town has a small levy militia and an even smaller mountaineer garrison, the former is only raised in case of a direct attack and the latter are responsible for the roads: Hunting down bandits, keeping the predators away from it and keeping it free of snow.

Dwarven inns are perhaps worth a mention. They are vastly different from human ones I encountered during the second war (most dwarven inns had at that point been burnt down) in that they are more than just a place that offers lodging and food. They are all operated by major brewing clans and serve as the primary production-site of that clan’s namesake brew. Not only does this provide all of these distilleries with cheap, easily available drink but the distillation processes also help with the heating. Rather interesting really, I think I’ll try to have a look at it later and see if I can figure out how it works. Once I have convinced the Thunderbrews that I’m not interested in their secret recipe…

So anyways… while I was having dinner and a Thunderbrew complimentary on the house, this Whitebeard fellow I delivered the report to found me and asked if I was interested in a contract. Wanted me to do some scouting of frost troll settlements in the western highlands, being a bit short of money I said I’d do it first thing in the morning if he paid well and paid for the supplies and repairs. He agreed without much fuss, even bought me a second pint.

Spent the next day trudging my way through the snow, crossed the Shimmer ridge and entered the western valley just east of Iceflow Lake. I made my way to Brewnall and asked the locals about the trolls. Good thing I did, it helped me get a sense of direction and the location of the various settlements. Spent the next couple of days scouting them out, making sure I got back to the village before dark. I fetched some shimmerweed or some such for a dwarf in Brewnall as well, since I was in the area. I had only a few brief encounters with troll outposts luckily, I tried my hardest to stay out of sight. It got a bit tricky down in some bigger cavern complex but I managed to trick the sentries and get out unhurt.

I got back to Kharanos this afternoon and delivered my report, he paid me rather handsomely for it. First thing I did was to go into the distillery and buy myself a steaming hot bath. I also visited and had my knives sharpened and visited a cordwain about getting myself a thick, warm boot. Something I sorely need, almost froze my remaining toes off when I was out in the snow.

That Whitebeard fellow asked if I was headed for Ironforge next, he said he might have a job for me if I did. We’ll see in the morning if I’ll take him up on his offer.

Lieutenant Jayanti Flashcharge

Entry three: The queen of cities

28 AtDP, Late winter
Dear Journal

When I arrived at the gates a week ago it was still dark out. The policy of the Ironforge guard corps is that the gate isn’t opened until one hour after dawn and it is closed again one hour before sunset, so I had to wait out in the cold with some merchants. We were all warming by a fire, talking about this and that when a patrol of royal mountaineers came up the narrow road leading up to the gates. Their officer shouted in dwarven to a guard standing watch atop a balcony, it sounded all very ceremonial and I’m guessing he was reporting that the lands were safe as far as could be seen.

The next thing that happened was that the guard atop the gate saluted and headed inside. It didn’t take many minutes until we heard the deep rumbling of stone grinding against stone, the officer warned us to hold on tight to our hats and cloaks. Next thing we know is that the huge “gate” (it got more in common with a moveable cliff if you ask me) starts moving upwards, slowly being lifted. As a small gap formed between it and the ground a wave of heat surged out of the mountain, incredibly hot and dry air that made all the snow on the gathering area evaporate. It caught my cloak and almost sent me flying off the cliffside.

As me and the merchants regained our composure, the mountaineers outside greeted another, bigger, patrol headed out and then proceeded in a much more casual manner to proceed inside the city. I brushed some dirt off my clothes and then proceeded into the gatehouse. As if the opening procedure hadn’t been impressive enough (I really got to find out how that gate is lifted sometime) we were greeted by a huge statue of the last High King of the dwarves, Modimus I of Anvilmar. I think what was most impressive was the sheer size of it all. The gatehouse is big enough to fit a giant standing on top of another, the gate is as thick as two rams in front of another and the statue was probably the biggest piece of art I ever seen. The rest of the city isn’t exactly of any smaller scope, but by then I had gotten used to it. Suffice to say, the dwarves build big (the fact that most of it is carved out of the surrounding rock is quite impressive all in itself).

Some words about the city I suppose, it is very difficult to breathe in the city. The air is hot and dry and it sucks the moisture out of your mouth when you open it. It is also very sooty and I wouldn’t advise wearing white in that city. The layout is that it consists of eight or so levels. The level I am on is considered to be the fifth one.

Here we have the main bazaar and the auctions (mental note: never raise your hand above your head there, not even to wave to a friend or such, or you might end up being expected to pay for sixty tonnes of boar hides… took a while to get out of that mess), the royal Bank of Ironforge (which, amusingly enough, isn’t owned by the royal family at all but a consortium of vassal clans), the temple of the Holy Light and ancestry, the great library and the Tinker town, the current haven for us gnomes.

The citizens, like most dwarves, are very social. They all take great pride in their work and do so with little, if any complaints. After work it is common that they find their friends and head to the nearest tavern for a drink. The dwarven drinking culture is a very special thing, with many unwritten rules and traditions. Among others, it is considered polite to allow the tavernkeep to choose what you’ll drink, you’ll then honour him by either guessing correctly at which brew it is or if you are unsure: allowing him to tell you about that brand and its history (the history behind a brew is often more important than the taste). Another one is that it is taboo to be drunk or hung over on duty or at work, something deeply shameful apparently.

Most dwarves in Ironforge, has very poor hearing. Because of the constant work and thundering hammer strikes of the great forge, which most dwarves in the city pass several times every day, their hearing grows gradually worse. It is sometimes referred to as the Ironforge condition, but talking about it can greatly upset many dwarves so avoiding the subject is prudent.

The report I was being paid to deliver was supposed to be handed over to a dwarf working in the court, some low ranking member of the immense dwarven bureaucracy. I figured it was simple enough, how difficult could it be to find someone in a court? Of course, I had never been in one before.

So I entered the dwarven court and faced a huge mob, it looked busier than the midst of the bazaar! There must’ve been a hundred there. Scribes writing documents, the royal guard keeping order, bureaucrats running everywhere with their arms full of parchments busy making sure the nation was run properly, servants making sure everyone was attended to and lots of thanes (dwarven nobility… the heads of the clans so to speak), merchants and ambassadors pestering the chamberlains about giving them audiences with the king.

It wasn’t much room and everything was in movement, so by the time I had delivered my report I had apparently bumped into five “this and that”-beards, stepped on the toes of the heirs of seven “fancy adjective followed by the name of a tool”-clan and accidentally insulted the marshal of the “something about mountains”-clan to the point that he demanded a trial by blood for lost honour (not sure how I managed). The latter got calmed down by some Goldigger clan fellow luckily. He later told me that it normally wasn’t that busy. It was just messy due to the king having raised the wartaxes, not the most popular of decisions.

After successfully escaping that mess I found myself in Tinker Town. The place isn’t very big, it’s a couple of residential blocks given to the gnomes, a few workshops, the embassy which now serve as the seat of the Tinker’s court and the tram. It is very crowded and many gnomes share homes, sometimes as many as twenty gnomes in a single house. I haven’t really been here, given that I stayed behind in Gnomeregan. It feels a bit like home and yet not. Despite all the tinkering, the grinding of gears and the gnomes hurrying out of bathtubs shouting” Eureka”, it doesn’t feel quite right. As if the place misses a gyrobolt or an arcano-mundanesupport.

As I was exploring the place and thinking of days long gone I encountered none other than Gearholder Aerovelociticator II and Gearholder Blackcog. Two of the more prominent members of the Tinker’s court, which is like advisors and ministers of the High tinkerer. I introduced myself to them and we talked a bit before they had to deal with some important issues. The former of the two recently sent me a letter, asking me to travel to Loch Modan to assist a small gnomish enclave there and to bring some gnomish equipment for the dwarven garrison at Dun Algaz. It feels good to be back on duty again, even if only for a few brief weeks. The pay is bad, but it feels better than doing mercenary work. At least you know for sure that what you do is for the betterment of your people, rather than selling your skill at killing to the highest bidder.

Lieutenant Jayanti Flashcharge

- - -
The queen of cities is a reference to the moniker of the largest and most advanced city in Europe during the early middle ages. The capitol of the Eastern Roman Empire: Constantinople (also known as Konstantinopolis, Konstantinyye and Istanbul). I thought it fit because the two have a lot in common; Ironforge is without a doubt the richest, most advanced city in Azeroth. Much like the second Rome was in Europe.
The moniker also implies a certain beauty (out of the dwarven perspective anyhow) and sanctity/immortality of the city (Ironforge has never been taken, unlike all other cities).

I thought it fit very well.

Entry four: In the service of the United Technocratic Republics of Gnomeregan
28 AtDP, still late winter
Dear Journal

In the aftermath of the second war the Grand Alliance established a network of couriers to be carried by griffons. Primarily to establish a swift messaging system between the various nations, so that the world would never have to be caught unawares by the horde (or something similar) in the way it did after the first war.
The system works in the way that every major town, city or trade hub maintains a griffon station. These stations will be run by a griffon master trained in Ironforge who will care for his small stable of griffons. The beasts will have been trained to fly to various predetermined locations, carrying a person and some cargo on its back.

Naturally, not just anyone is allowed to travel by these immensely expensive beasts (takes about ten years to train one of them), they are strictly for the use of high priority messages and individuals. Do you think my assignment to Loch Modan was important enough?

That’s right… it wasn’t.

So I had to rely on the old fashioned way to get there: “The foot sole express”. I signed up as a guard with a small trade caravan carrying charcoal to Thelsamar, mostly because one should never travel anywhere alone. Some people will claim it’s due to not tempting bandits and that is part of it. But mostly it is because if you suffer an accident, like tripping over a rock or so, the chances of getting help in time are very slim.

We spent about a week travelling the highland roads before we reached the southern pass that led down towards the western shores of the great lake. It was a very slow and eventless journey, so I spent most of the time talking to the leader of the caravan, Thoragan Shalebed.

One of the more interesting topics was the dwarven clan system. It’s essentially a feudal system. The dwarves gather themselves into families, not just parents and their children though but cousins, uncles, grandparents, great-grandparents and so on. Some of the more prominent families will then gather other families under their banner, keeping them under their protection and helping them in return for aiding them. This is the basis of the smallest of clans. For the sake of convenience I’ll call them minor clans. The original family, the namesake of the group, will generally be referred to as the heart or blood of the clan.

The minor clans will then, much like the families do, either gather other minor clans under their banner or accept to be in the suzerainty of a more powerful clan. Becoming what I for convenience would refer to as a regular clan, or just clan. All the minor clans that serve a regular clan will then count as being part of that clan, just like the families count as being part of the minor clan. As an example, the Shalebeds are a minor clan that serves as a vassal to the Golddigger clan. Therefore, in addition to being Shalebeds, they are also Golddiggers. Even if they don’t carry that name, they still think of themselves (and are thought of) as part of that clan.

The final step of the ladder is the major clans. Most of us have heard of these, they are the ones so powerful and numerous that they are essentially peoples in their own right. The Bronzebeards, the Wildhammers and the Dark Irons. These three gather all the regular clans between themselves into what is akin to nations. My examples, the Shalebeds, are a minor clan that makes up part of the Golddigger clan and by extent counts as part of the Bronzebeards (since the Golddiggers are vassals of the Bronzebeards).

This is still a simplification of the system, there’s a lot of prestige and power involved and naturally, the distinction I made by dividing them up in the categories of minor, regular and major clans does not exist among the dwarves (making it a bit messy to try to understand). Some clans focus less on blood relations than others, such as the Forlorn Caverns-based Blacksmokes who consists of a collection of a few hundred Dark Iron exiles grouped together. Some are very strict and refuses to accept vassals, making them strictly one family, but still command much respect and a high social ranking due to wealth. Others blur the lines of being a vassal or independent such as the Stormpike clan.

It was all very enlightening to talk about, definitely one of the better ways to spend the time. Provided me with some insight in dwarven society I otherwise would not have acquired anytime soon.

After we left the southern pass behind us we started to make our way down into the snow covered Valley of Kings. Even if the hills of Loch Modan aren’t covered in snow for as long periods as Dun Morogh is, it will still cover the lands in the winter. The lush hills on the western slopes serve for the vast majority of the year as the pastures for the herds of rams that on the summers are brought further up the mountains. It is not uncommon to see dwarven herders ride on their mounts, keeping watch over their animals and singing beautiful and soothing songs.

The most prominent feature of the region is the Loch itself, of course. Originally it was much smaller, but some two hundred years ago the dwarves dammed it up as a project to drain the wetlands (to be able to build roads north and allow more settlements there). Over the years the snow that melts in the summer have accumulated and given the lake its current size.

Thelsamar is a small dwarven settlement on the western shore of the lake, it’s a small town of miners, stoneworkers, herders and fishermen and serves first and foremost as a stop for caravans going north. Like Kharanos it was completely destroyed during the second war and was later rebuilt by the locals.

When we reached it I said good bye to Shalebed as his caravan stopped by the distillery-inn and made my way towards the outskirts of the town. Towards a small group of buildings standing apart from the rest, the biggest of them marked with a text written in gnomish:
“The Technocratic Republic of Thelsamar”.

Where humans consider their nations based on land and the dwarves on clans, we make no such distinction. The United Technocratic Republics of Gnomeregan consist of a multitude of largely autonomous republics spread out all over the world (or worlds, to be precise. All two of them). Where there’s a permanent gnomish enclave there’s a republic. Gnomeregan, Ironforge, Stormwind, Dalaran… even one in Undermine (a very small one though). Keeping it all together is the High Tinkerer and the tinker’s court which maintains the absolute basics of what is needed to protect gnomekind and our rights.

Mind, most of these republics aren’t very big. Between twenty and fifty gnomes is the average size, with a few being much bigger. The one in Thelsamar belongs to the former size.

Inside was a bit of a mess, tools and materials were lying all over the floor and a pair of gnomes where rushing about trying to extinguish some scattered fires. Most likely an experiment gone awry. I decided to help them put the flames out and then asked them where to find the local administrator. Following their directions I met with him on the lower floor, I introduced myself and handed him the letter from Gearholder Aerovelociticator II. The issue I was sent to deal with was that the local dwarven garrison had spotted some troggs migrating north from the badlands and had requested gnomish aid in the reconnaissance of said group’s movements.

While the gnomes in Thelsamar had the equipment and training for such a task, they didn’t have anyone with experience to lead the scout team. I, on the other hand, did. Can’t say I’m too keen on meeting any troggs, but it is an important mission.

Spent the last few days training the scouts and planning with the dwarves, making sure all of us are ready. We’ll set out tomorrow into the southern cliffs to have a look at the beasts. Even if we’re to keep our distance, the lot of us knows what to do and the dwarves are prepared to move in if needed… one never knows what will happen.

I hope I’ll be around to write the result.

Lieutenant Jayanti Flashcharge

The description of the clan system and the gnomish republics is how I imagine both functions (but a bit simplified). I’m rather fond of the views, but there’s not really any basis for it in established lore (I don’t think it contradicts anything though).

Entry five: The eternal companion
28 AtDP, two days after the last entry

Dear Journal

I couldn’t sleep that night, I had that tingly jittery feeling I always have before a battle or engagement. After tossing in my bed for what felt like forever, I went out in the night and tried to calm the nerves with a smoke… or a few… I didn’t keep count. Tried to keep myself from trembling despite that it wasn’t very cold. A few of the older dwarves in the garrison joined me after a while. Same reason

We talked for a while, it wasn’t really about anything important. Just tried to pass the time that remained until sunrise. About an hour or so from sunrise their officer showed up as well. We talked a bit away from the others about the upcoming day, went over the plan and made sure we were certain about everything.

After that most of the others started arriving and the soothing silence of the early morn turned into the nervous preparation for the coming day. The plan was that we’d only engage the troggs if we were spotted or if we suspected that they were only a day or so away from attacking a settlement. But if there’s anything one should always do in the military it is hope for the best but prepare for the worst.

We spent the entire morning marching off towards the hills, stopping only for some food once we got to them. After that we split up, the dwarves would climb on top of a hill and wait while we gnomes would sneak off ahead.

We split off into two teams and followed a path each up into the rocky terrain. It took us high among the hills; at its highest point the view was magnificent. One could see the high peaks of the mountains in the distance and the Stonewrought dam by the horizon and even the uppermost part of the huge statue of Khadros Wildhammer between the crags in the southwest.

Ms. Springcog II, a young gnome that haven’t even earned her own name yet was the first that got on top of the hill and stood in awe, silently watching the view for a long time before the rest of us reached her. But still she kept her head on top and had even spotted the first signs of the troggs.

We silently made our way closer to them, splitting off into even smaller teams carefully moving between the bushes and rocks. Using our limited height to our advantage as we kept ourselves hidden from the beasts.

There were far more of them than we had anticipated, I counted at least thirty small camps of rough shelters and fires in the valley where they all were. Each and every camp having at least a dozen troggs. They didn’t see us thankfully. We started more precise counts, marked their camps on our maps and Bluespark managed to establish contact with the other team by reflecting sunlight with a mirror.

They seemed to have reached the same conclusion as us and after about two hours we began to make our way back. We had to take another route due to the one we arrived from would prove to slow to climb up, increasing the risk of being detected. But it proved no real difficulty and soon enough we were well out of sight of the troggs.

Naturally… it was then we saw the emergency flare soar towards the sky to the east. I sent Bluespark and Springcap to the dwarves to guide them as swiftly as they could through the hills as well as to make sure the maps and counts reached them and then took the rest of the team to get the others out of trouble.

We found them rather soon, chased by some troggs in a ravine… but more of the monsters were coming out of every crag. It was just two of them, who had been cut off from the rest who soon joined up with us. We soon found a way down and rushed to get to our friends.

As we found them, they had been caught in a dead end and fought like cornered foxes. We cut our way to them but found that the troggs cut off our escape, I sent a second flare into the sky to signal our position and then we entered the fray.

I sent my fransisca flying rather early, don’t know if it brought one down or not because soon I had this huge beast over me. It threw itself over me, trapping me with its weight and tried to smash me with a rock the size of my head. I found a way around its defenses and started stabbing and stabbing. Again and again. Over and over. Not until my arms and shoulders felt like they were about to fall off did I start to feel how the beast’s strength vanished as it bled out.

As I exhaled I could feel how my entire body felt like tendered meat and I took a deep breath and tried to lift the dead thing off me. I felt how someone grabbed my collar and pulled me out from underneath it. Springcog II again, she flashed a brief but weary smile as she saw I was okay… all things considered. She had this bleeding gash across her forehead but we had no real time to share stories. In a blink of an eye we were thrown into the thick of it again.

I am not really sure what transpired, I was too busy stabbing every unprotected gut and back I could find as the troggs overran our position. It was all a muddy, bloody and loud chaos. My left knife’s edge turned dull after some time, probably due to cutting through bone. I didn’t have much room for finesse.

All of a sudden I had a dwarf beside me, don’t know how he got there but rustbucket was I glad to see him. He killed a trogg with his axe and then turned to say something to me; I think he tried to tell me that the troggs were in trouble or something similar but a trogg wrought him aside and brought its club down on his head. I planted my good knife’s blade in its throat as vengeance and as it went down the blade snapped and I was left with nothing but a dull blade and my fist.

But it seemed the troggs broke and started running, some of the dwarves giving chase or picking them off with their guns. Most of the monsters did not make it, and despite that the plan had been to do nothing more than scout we ended upon scattering the troggs. Sending the few survivors fleeing back to the badlands.

I managed to find my fransisca in the aftermath, it hadn’t brought anyone down but it did catch one in the shoulder. All things considered I was quite lucky, nothing worse than bruises, exhaustion and two ruined knives (will have to get new ones).

Out of the ten gnomes under my command, three of them truly excelled. They did everything absolutely right and they were without question some of the best gnomes I ever met.

Bello Blastwhistle
Cerran Hammerspanner
Lytia Springcog II

I wish the three of you nothing but that you rest in peace...

I am so very sorry...

Lieutenant Jayanti Flashcharge

- - -

One thing I’ve always imagined about warcraft gnomes is that they earn their name, rather than take the name of their parents. Once they invent something (not necessarily an item) they use that as the namesake for their surname. Sort of like a way to show the world: “This is what I made. This is who I am”. Until they have earned their name, they keep the name of one of their parents with a numeral behind it. Jayanti, for instance, was Gyrofunnel II (Gyrofunnel the second) before she invented the Flashcharge. Once she did invent it she earned her name and assumed it in some ceremony. It just feels so gnomish to care about deeds more than ancestry (not that others doesn’t care about deeds mind).

As for the entry itself, the eternal companion is one of the many metaphors for death. One primarily associated with soldiers because out of everyone and everything you meet and use, death is the only one you can be sure will stay forever. This is not the death that kills your enemy but your friends and comrades in arms. The one that truly is what makes war hell.

It is not something trivial really... everytime one enters a fight one should be aware that death could claim one or a friend.

I remember reading this on the realm forum a month or so ago! Do you still plan to write more entries, because I'm really enjoying them immensely!

Glad to hear you enjoy them, and yes. I do plan to write more... eventually. I have some that I know roughly what to write about and some I have to think through some more. What I lack the most is time... but that should solve itself soon