Musings of a Mage is a compilation of Aenor Dawnblade's personal diary entries, usually dealing of events he participated in or other special happenings in his life. The diary is updated as new events happen (and the player finds enough time, motivation and inspiration to do so).
Of Faith and ArcaneEdit
I still remember how my father once described the meaning of our family name when I was but a child. "Dawnblade; a brilliantly shimmering sword brought forth to pierce the darkness of this world. Light is our guidance, and faith is our shield." Father did have a slightly poetic way of speaking at times, and I guess mother certainly did not dislike it.
Dawnblades have a long lineage of devoted Priests and valiant Paladins – men and women who have put their trust in greater good and universal benignity of things, that is. The principles of Holy Light have been well known in our family for centuries, and amongst almost every rising generation have been stars who have shone almost literally as an example for others: such as my brother, who made it as far as to become part of the Knights of the Silver Hand. Even though he eventually became what he is now.
There are times when I wonder how I did ever manage to be part of such a family as an Arcanist.
That isn’t to say that my feet would have been easily stepped on the path I came to walk. My father was reluctant of the idea, and my mother was not far from afraid. What would happen if I took up the same art that once drove us apart from the Kaldorei? How could my body sustain the strain of continuous study and spell-casting when it had never been too strong to begin with? I had been born with bad luck, it seemed: I was frailer than my brother or my father – too frail to wield a sword and a shield and to become a Paladin. Therefore, both my parents tried their best to persuade me into following my mother’s lead and pursuing the path of Priesthood, but somehow, I never gave in. It’s actually quite odd, considering that being strong of head or in fact being strong of anything hasn’t ever been a way to describe me.
Yes... that includes being strong of heart. As deeply as the philosophy of Light did run in our family, it never found its way into my deepest depths. I do know the principles, yes, but to know something and to believe in it is altogether different. I... somehow can’t just understand how one person could be able to change the universe. Why did I have to go through all the sickness and suffering when I only wanted to do my best and act as my parents would have wanted? How could I ever cause a change in something so vast and all-powerful when I am only an imperfect soul?
My past might explain some of the difficulties – I spent a notable part of my life ill, and it was ironic fortune that I got better only to survive the impact of the Sunwell’s corruption – but I can even myself agree that it does not suffice for everything. I have seen people who have gone though almost similar experiences, yet they have been able to embrace the Light; I have heard of people who received the call of the Light when they were in face of difficulties. Why didn’t I ever hear or feel its call... even though I was practically raised to become either a Paladin or a Priest?
Everything might have been easier if I had been just able to cast off everything I had ever heard of Light and follow most of my kin in their example of becoming scientifically-minded researchers or sometimes even cynical conjurers. Mages are not supposed to trust in the Light; they are supposed to draw power from the very same source priests and paladins seek to worship and demons seek to destroy. They bend universe to their will, not the other way around... or maybe they merely don’t care. They may know the words, but they don’t read out the phrases, I might say.
I, however, am different. For years, I thought I could escape the overwhelming brilliance of the Holy Light; perhaps that’s why I locked myself up in dim-lit rooms with dusty tomes. Nonetheless, it never left me, even if it never did truly enter my soul, either. After the fall of Quel’thalas as it once was and my enlistment into the ranks of the Horde, I have found myself contemplating it every once and then – even more, as of late. I wished that the flame of battle could be extinguished from the world and that Alliance and Horde could live in peace, but my wish seemed weak in the turmoil of the both Azeroth and lands beyond it, together with the fact that my body would not stop reminding me of my own limits and feebleness. Now, I have met those who strive for a similar goal and who have not given up despite the seeming impossibility of their task – the Argent Dawn. Those, who unite under the same flag, no matter whether Horde or Alliance... and who follow principles very similar – if not completely similar – to the church of Holy Light.
Argent Dawn attracts me. I can’t help admiring their bravery, and I’d want to help in fighting the one enemy we have if I only am able to. In the same time, I feel conflicted by the remnants of faith that keep on haunting me: at times, I would want to believe in it, but I am not sure whether I can. I am still such a small and powerless part in the great construction of universe, after all... To make things even more complicated, words have begun to slip from my tongue as of recent. I hear myself blessing people in the name of Light. I keep on thinking whether faith would solve the arcane addiction that is still the problem of many of the Sin’Dorei, and I accidentally think those things aloud. It is almost like the Light would want me to believe in it, which I cannot help pondering without confusion and anxiety.
Arcane and faith have never seemed like a combination which would be reasonable or functional, and I can recall my brother quoting a book written by a Paladin of the Silver Hand after he got accepted in the organisation:
"After death, a mage’s soul will be condemned to the same pit of darkness shared by the mythical demons of old... no matter how pure their soul might have been otherwise."
What should I do? How could I even know what to do? Can I embrace something I have previously only half-heartedly agreed to exist?
Should I, even...?
Sometime during the night
I arrived here at the Warsong Hold yesterday evening. The welcome ceremony for the newly arrived troops was cut quite short when the Scourge attacked during the Defensive commander’s speech, and everyone rushed out to repel the aerial assault. We managed to push them away, but the Scourge is strong, and I, too, have already managed to hear the bellowing of the wingless Dreadlord Paggorn. It sends chills down my spine, but I try to stay strong and concentrate on the thought that my skills are required somewhere in order to fight the undead threat.
My first day at the Warsong Defensive went somewhat in confusion and chaos. I wasn’t sure what I supposed to do or where I could be most useful, so I ended up running back and forth inside the Hold and almost getting lost. They did create a unit for spellcasters and appointed a seemingly able Blood Elven magister as its commander, but not many mages or other casters turned up for the initial meeting. The basic rules we were told to follow made me also feel slightly… uncomfortable. “Do not show hesitation. If someone is charging towards you and another person jumps between the two of you, force your spells through him”, the commander spoke. “The end justifies the means.”
Does that mean that we are supposed to kill our own comrades if that is required for defeating the Scourge? Is it really necessary to sacrifice someone for the sake of others' wellbeing? I... I know that things don’t always turn out well and that everything doesn’t always work the easiest way, but… I can’t help shuddering.
In any case, I didn’t have to march to the battlefield at least yet – which I am partly glad of – and thus, I ended up offering my aid at the infirmary. In fact, I didn’t participate in the battles at all today but rather decided to stay and take care of the injured instead. My healing skills are no match for priests or trained nurses, and once again I had to face the limits of my magic today, but at least my Divine Arcanism allows me to help at least a bit more than I would have as a normal mage. There seldom seems to be enough healers around, so I have been trying to help with the best I can. The infirmary was surprisingly quiet when I left, but it probably only a matter of time when the next attack will begin. I pray to the Light that we won’t have many casualties anymore and that the Hold will stay safe.
...My eyes are barely staying open anymore. I wasn’t able to sleep very well last night, so I feel quite tired now. I should have probably expected this since I had nothing but cold, wooden floor as my bed… but I shouldn’t complain. I don’t want to give the impression of being weak or burden anyone. I think I will end this entry here and meditate a while before getting some rest. I might be needed again tomorrow.
A quiet moment in the infirmary. People come and go; I wouldn’t dare to say whether the majority of them are injured or not, but I definitely hope it is the latter. I have seen many Blood Knights in the infirmary – unfortunately, also as patients – as well as people whom I personally know, such as miss Edanna. Tonight, we even lost an experienced warlock who was actually the same person who removed the last bits of our protective ward when it had been corrupted by demons and the Scourge. Several people seemed quite shocked, and I felt slightly sad, too: casualties are never a good or a happy thing. I pray that he will find peace in his rest.
I don’t know what to say about my own participation. On one hand, part of me feels happy and even slightly proud for being able to help people, for being able to ease their pain ¬– and yes, also for being thanked. It felt a little flattering when people remembered me and my actions from the previous days, and their words encourage me and lift my spirit. On the other hand, there were moments today when I simply seemed to be running around, not doing much else than worrying. I stood there when the healers operated some patients but didn’t wish to disturb them, and the limits of my skills remain. I wish I had more courage to step forward and offer myself to others’ aid instead of pondering and hesitating. Once or twice I have wondered whether I should just go and join the offensive troops, but I’m not sure how great a difference I would make there, either, and… there is no escaping the fact that I don’t like fighting. I am no true battle mage and certainly not a warrior.
People have been arguing here and there. There have been a few people to point that out, and the unrest seems to be growing amongst the troops. I feel uncomfortable. We have a strong enemy against us… we cannot fight each other.
… My head is starting to ache again. Twice tonight I felt a sharp sting in my temples, making me temporarily lose track of all events around me. I hope it isn’t the stress… or actually, on the second thought, I hope it is the stress. Rather stress than the other alternative. Luckily I have kept some dried Sungrass in my bag just in case. My arms are a little sore, too, but that is because of lifting the patients and other things around. I even helped in carrying an Orc. That kind of exercise is probably only good for me, however; some extra strenght wouldn't do bad to my body...
It is still quiet in here… perhaps this night shift will be a peaceful one…
It seems that you should indeed never find yourself thinking how peaceful it is while a war is being waged.
Tonight turned out to be the most pressing night so far. The whole Warsong Hold had to be evacuated when a Scourge agent managed to infiltrate here. The real danger began only after a Blood Knight had beheaded him, causing Blight gas to erupt from his corpse, but retrospectively thinking, it is incredible we actually believed that he was a diplomat. The Scourge is trying to benefit from all of our weaknesses – from all of our humane characteristics…
For the major part, the evacuation went smoothly, and the Hold was successfully purged soon after. Nonetheless, our healers are dead tired and our supplies low, since we only managed to salvage two crates. Overlord Gremkarc promised now supplies as soon as possible, but I can understand he is under extreme pressure as well. We can only to manage and wish what we have will last until the new delivery…
Oh, by the ever-graceful Light, I was scared for Elyra. I thought she had already left the Hold and almost forgotten about her in the continuous commotion when I all of a sudden heard her voice in my Hearthstone. She had been sleeping on the roof all the time, and so we had missed her in the evacuation progress, and now, she was alone in the middle of the Blight-poisoned Hold… I couldn’t stay even distantly calm anymore in that situation. I was so afraid that she had breathed in the deadly gas, that it would be too late, that no one could save her… Oh, how relieved I was to see her on miss Edanna’s drake, slightly weak and shocked by the events but otherwise fine…
I had earlier talked with Elyra’s brother on our Hearthstone channel and promised that I would try to get her roses for the love festival. However, what I didn’t expect was her to give me flowers. A bouquet of white roses… I apologized that I had no flowers to give her back but temporarily tried to make it up by conjuring a ring of roses around her. Elyra seemed enchanted even though they were illusionary and didn’t last too long… even in this froze-bound land, flowers still look pretty in their bloom.
After the Blight gas threat had been cleared, we returned to the infirmary and made sure none of the healers or patients had caught the infection. I changed my headband for a mask to stay safe just in case, too; I don’t think anyone cares at the moment if my hair looks untidy or not. I haven’t had a good chance to wash my face for a while during my stay here, not to mention my hair or doing more throughout cleaning.
The headache is returning in sharp stings, and I have no strength left in my arms from all the carrying. It feels like I had been magically drained of all energy. I’m trying to hide it, however: I need to stay awake. We have no one else to take the night shift and watch over the patients right now. Miss Tuvi and miss Masozi are sleeping; they must have exerted themselves even more than I did. I promised them that I could do it even though my body yearns for sleep and an uncomfortable, cool feeling is sinking inside me like a piece of marble into a lake. If this goes on, I’ll have to contact her once again – my knowledge of Herbalism and cups of Goldthorn tea don’t seem to be enough anymore. For now, I can only pray the Light to keep the fragments of my health stay together at least until this event is over and it’s safe to break down…
Oh, how I wish I could sleep… but I cannot.
((The final entry is missing for the moment.))
((To come... hopefully...)