Warreth: November 12th: Whispers
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A Forsaken priest is a curious beast,
his path an unusual course.
His shadowy rites cannot come from the Light,
so he seeks a more sinister source.
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This little tome I found is coming in useful, as I thought it might. The name I penned in amused me. DarkEvangelism. Perhaps a bit too dark for a priest of the Argent Crusade, but I think I'm allowed my little jokes. The Crusaders I work with might not find it funny, but I get the feeling Nikkitah Blightheart might.
We had a chat today, in the Scarlet Enclave. I know the significance of where I asked to meet him, of course. I find myself amazed that the Scourge didn't leave behind more signs of their presence in that crypt. I'm sure a death knight of Acherus could tell me exactly what it looked like during the assault, but I think I prefer to imagine. If there's one thing I do enjoy about working so closely with an organization such as the Brotherhood of the Light, it's that they are systematically destroying the last vestiges of the Scarlet Crusade from Lordaeron. There is no place for such radical behavior. Too bad it looks like they'll have to destroy themselves when they're done with Stratholme. I'm sure the Scarlet Crusade looked as heroic and ruthless as the Brotherhood does. At first.
Where was I? Ah, my talk with Nikkitah Blightheart. He collected my gift for him. Three ghouls and supplies, just as I'd promised before Bloodrend lost his head. Either I severely misjudged him or I startled him, because he opened up our talk, accusing me of murdering Argent Crusaders. I did, but that's another story. I could have done many things. I had a much more convincing lie for the commander at the Plaguewood Tower earlier, when I dropped off the Crusaders' clothes and possessions. The only things worth salvaging, you know. But I didn't give him the story that I'd given the commander, of cultists setting a ghoul pack on the patrol. I was practically transparent and I think he realized it. He's rather quick on the uptake, actually, when he's not angry.
Our banter back and forth was productive. I think he realizes my position now, that I am no friend of the Crusade. He knows I know about him, too, and I've been covering for him. Maybe next time we can skip straight to plain talk, instead of veiled hints and threats.
Maybe.
For now, though, I have to put this journal aside. Bloodrend requires mending again, and his hourly dose of dreamless sleep potion, lest he start babbling in his fever and say things I'd rather he not. Aenleros, too, requires my attention. Light burns. I'm not sure how a paladin burns himself with his own Light, but there you go.
For now, good night.
A Forsaken priest is a curious beast,
his path an unusual course.
His shadowy rites cannot come from the Light,
so he seeks a more sinister source.
*********************
This little tome I found is coming in useful, as I thought it might. The name I penned in amused me. DarkEvangelism. Perhaps a bit too dark for a priest of the Argent Crusade, but I think I'm allowed my little jokes. The Crusaders I work with might not find it funny, but I get the feeling Nikkitah Blightheart might.
We had a chat today, in the Scarlet Enclave. I know the significance of where I asked to meet him, of course. I find myself amazed that the Scourge didn't leave behind more signs of their presence in that crypt. I'm sure a death knight of Acherus could tell me exactly what it looked like during the assault, but I think I prefer to imagine. If there's one thing I do enjoy about working so closely with an organization such as the Brotherhood of the Light, it's that they are systematically destroying the last vestiges of the Scarlet Crusade from Lordaeron. There is no place for such radical behavior. Too bad it looks like they'll have to destroy themselves when they're done with Stratholme. I'm sure the Scarlet Crusade looked as heroic and ruthless as the Brotherhood does. At first.
Where was I? Ah, my talk with Nikkitah Blightheart. He collected my gift for him. Three ghouls and supplies, just as I'd promised before Bloodrend lost his head. Either I severely misjudged him or I startled him, because he opened up our talk, accusing me of murdering Argent Crusaders. I did, but that's another story. I could have done many things. I had a much more convincing lie for the commander at the Plaguewood Tower earlier, when I dropped off the Crusaders' clothes and possessions. The only things worth salvaging, you know. But I didn't give him the story that I'd given the commander, of cultists setting a ghoul pack on the patrol. I was practically transparent and I think he realized it. He's rather quick on the uptake, actually, when he's not angry.
Our banter back and forth was productive. I think he realizes my position now, that I am no friend of the Crusade. He knows I know about him, too, and I've been covering for him. Maybe next time we can skip straight to plain talk, instead of veiled hints and threats.
Maybe.
For now, though, I have to put this journal aside. Bloodrend requires mending again, and his hourly dose of dreamless sleep potion, lest he start babbling in his fever and say things I'd rather he not. Aenleros, too, requires my attention. Light burns. I'm not sure how a paladin burns himself with his own Light, but there you go.
For now, good night.