Forgotten Journal of Bronil Nightwind Book1

10/3/05
(( Little bit of an IC glance at Bronil the character, as opposed to Bronil the forum poster. If you don't like it, I still love ya anyway :P ))

Bronil walked along the road from Darnassus to Dolanaar. Beside him, as always, was Kodrak; a loyal bear, and best friend. Kodrak ambled along, pausing at times to sniff the air around him. Bronil had always felt relatively secure in Teldrassil, but with Kodrak at his side, he could walk into the deepest pits of the Nether without the slightest fear. As the two walked through Dolanaar, they eventually came upon a small house; a familiar house. Bronil would have knocked, but the door to the house was wide open, as usual. There were virtually no thieves in Dolanaar, or anywhere in Teldrassil for that matter; even if there were, the house had very little in terms of monetary value. Besides, Celesst enjoyed the climate of Teldrassil, and welcomed it into her home. The house was Bronils home too, in a way, yet he spent very little time here. The time that he did spend, was treasured deeply.

Bronil! Celesst exclaimed from inside the house. Kodrak had entered first, and that was what had announced Bronils arrival. Aside from the fact no thistle bears inhabited Teldrassil, this bear was very well known to Celesst from Bronils previous visits.

It is good to see you, sister. He replied, and smiled warmly. After hugging Kodrak, Celesst hugged her brother tightly. Bronil understood that hug, for his sister missed him dearly during his long trips in Azeroth. In truth, he would love to spend much more time here with his only living family, but he had a call to answer, and a very big promise to keep.

Looks like I have a lot more cooking to do. Tyron announced, though the comment was for Kodrak, who seemed to be incapable of achieving a full stomach. Tyron was Celessts fiancé, or rather, husband as Bronil had learned on his last visit, which was just in time for the wedding. Youve grown since last time; what has Bronil been feeding you I wonder.

Youd be surprised, Bronil said with a grin. The bear was hardly a picky eater, and his appetite had extended to Bronils boot on one occasion.

Will you be staying long, Bronil? Tyron asked. Celesst shot a hopeful look to her brother.

I plan to stay for at least a few days. Then I must leave for Azshara; apparently there is a furbolg that the Elders would have me speak with.

Then Ill be sure to put some food in that belly of yours for the long trip! You know, you really should take more after Kodrak. Its not good to eat as little as you do.

Bronil chuckled softly, Ill be sure to do that, Tyron. Tyron was fast becoming an expert in preparing food, and it was held by more than a few that he would soon prepare the meals for festivals held in Darnassus, perhaps even in the Temple of the Moon. He had even begun teaching Bronil the finer aspects of cooking, though with some difficulty. Bronil was a quick learner at hunting and swordplay, but cooking was different; much different.

And I have something to show you, Bronil. Celesst interjected. Before even telling him what it was, she grabbed her brothers arm and led him off to another room.

Knowing where the food was, Kodrak followed Tyron into the kitchen.

It was good indeed to be home once more.

(( More to come later. Didn't want to make it too long of a read. ))

10/5/05
(( As promised :D ))

Ducking slightly so the hilt of his sword wouldn't catch on the door frame, Bronil followed his sister's lead into the room; it was her bedroom, though some pieces of furniture had been rearranged. Reaching into one of the drawers next to the bed, Celesst pulled out a leatherbound book.

"Do you remember this?" Celesst inquired, giving the book to her brother. Bronil searched his memory, but could find nothing that would name the book. The leather of the book seemed vaguely familiar, but nothing else about the book stood out. Flipping through pages in the middle of the book, blank pages, he shook his head slowly. "Not those pages," his sister chided, "read the first page." Turning to the first page, not a blank page, Bronil recognized the book as the first page was filled with his handwriting.

19 January, 2005

My birthday. Today I am 180 years old. Yet, there is no celebration for me on this day. A short distance north of Dolanaar lies a cave in what has come to be known as Fel Rock. In this cave dwells a demon of significant power, who has amassed a small army of lesser demons. This demon goes by the name of Lord Menelas, and his intentions are beyond a doubt malicious in nature. . . and that is why I have been sent to hunt him by Tallonkai Swiftroot. However, I hunt this demon out of more than obligation to the Elders. I hunt Menelas because I know intuitively it is what must be done for the peace and safety of Teldrassil. More than that, I hunt out of both anger and fear. My anger towards demons will continue to burn for so long as their ilk plagues this world. They have destroyed much of the earth, and all of my family, save one. . . and that one is the cause of my fear. I fear that the destruction Menelas plans to bring will reach Celesst, and many other Kaldorei. By Elune I swear I will never let it come to that. Never. My birthday shall be the last day Menelas draws breath into his wretched body.

-Bronil Nightwind

". . . . my journal." Bronil said at length, after the nostalgia of the first entry had hit him. Two years before that first entry, Bronil had journeyed to Shadowglen, where he began his training as Hunter. As always, Celesst did not want him to leave, but the call of the Hunt, of the untamed wilds, called strongly to Bronil, and he could not ignore it. The one responsible for his training, Ayanna Everstride, had recommended that he keep a journal, and read over it frequently, to help him better understand both himself, and Hunter's path.

"You left it behind on the day Arch Druid Staghelm sent you to Auberdine, and you never came back for it."

"I had forgotten. . ." The words were true, but Bronil couldn't believe them. The journal was important for many reasons, and for him to have forgotten it all this time. . . was beyond absent-minded.

"Well, now that you remember, I want you take it with you to Azshara and anywhere else you go. With Tyron around, the house doesn't seem so empty anymore, but I still think about you everyday you're gone on your long trips."

"I know, Celesst." He admitted with a sigh. He did not like doing this to his younger sister, but promises were promises, and in truth it would be for the better in the end.

"Write in it for me. Please? I can't be there with you when you go away, but I would like to know what it would be like to be beside you."

"I will. When I return from my next trip, I promise not to leave again until you have read all the entries to your heart's content." and he meant every word.

"Thank you." Celesst replied with a smile

Bronil placed an arm around his sister's shoulders "Let's go see how Tyron's holding out against Kodrak."

(( Again, tried to keep it short. Oh and if anyone knows what system of calendarkeeping Night Elves use, I'd love to know. I couldn't find anything on it, so I had to use the Gregorian system by default. ))

10/11/05
At an abandoned campsite, Bronil sat up against Kodrak, whose slow breathing indicated the bear was sleeping. The night had finally come to Azshara. Aside from the moonlight, only the campfire provided light. Reaching into his traveling pack, Bronil grabbed his journal, ink, and quill. Using his leg as a table, he began to write.

Azshara is a quiet place, dangerously quiet. Naga tracks are everywhere; not surprising when you consider who this land is named after. I would like to think that not all naga are malevolent, but I have seen nothing to support such a notion. After my business with the furbolg Ogtinc is finished, I will investigate the naga presence.

Speaking of which, I find that I do not like Ogtinc. Fortunately, he has escaped the corruption that plagues most of his race. Still, there is something about him I disagree with. He has asked that I hunt a courser and retrieve the horns. This, he claims, will impart strength and confidence in me. I see no strength or confidence in killing a creature just for its horns. A true hunter does not kill for power. He kills only to survive, and kills only just enough to survive. When the kill is made, nothing of the animal goes to waste, and he offers thanks to the spirit of the animal. Anything more is gluttonous. Then again, I am very young, and lack the thousands of years of wisdom possessed by the Elders. The Elders have asked that I speak with Ogtinc and do as he asks. Thus, I will trust in the wisdom of the Elders for they have yet to guide me down a path that was not beneficial in the end.

Sleep well, dear sister.

-Bronil Nightwind

With that, Bronil placed his materials back in his traveling sack, and put out the campfire. Eventually his breathing matched Kodrak's, and he fell into restful sleep.

10/13/05
I was wrong to trust the Elders.

Ogtinc was not content with the courser antlers. He wanted me to hunt wavethrashers on the coast, and so I did, still believing that the wisdom of the Elders saw something in this task that I could not. I do not feel stronger from these deeds. To the contrary, I feel. . . vile. As though I have become something horrible. I can only pray that Elune will forgive me for murdering innocent children of nature.

Now Ogtinc asks a final task of me, to slay a green drake, Morphaz, in the Swamp of Sorrows. The creatures of the green dragonflight are noble, and serve as guardians of nature. At first I vowed not to commit to such a horrible task. Yet, Ogtinc claims Morphaz has made many enemies. Has the green dragonflight become corrupt? I pray that is not so, but something tells me that Morphaz has fallen from his flight.

I see now why I was told to slay coursers and wavethrashers. Ogtinc felt that by hunting these creatures, I would become stronger; and thus more able to confront Morphaz. Ogtinc does not know true strength. It does not come from killing mighty foes. No, true strength lies in following the path that we know in our hearts to be right and just. When the time comes, I will face Morphaz, and draw upon strength from within, the same strength I have always and will always draw upon.

-Bronil Nightwind

10/19/05
Morphaz is dead. The battle was long, and bloody. Of the five of us that ventured into the Sunken Temple, Morphaz disposed of two. The druid and the fighter next to him fought bravely to the end. Their loss was felt deeply by the three of us who remained behind. Another fighter, Kodrak, and my arrows were all that stood between Morphaz and the priest. Striking from the shadows, the fighter moved incredibly fast, and with the grace I have seen only from the finest swordsmen. She worked in conjunction with Kodrak perfectly. When she could not handle Morphaz's onslaught, Kodrak reminded the fallen dragon of his presence, giving the fighter time to recover her wounds with help from the priest, who was beginning to tire from the near constant healing.

In the end, Morphaz fell, and the priest returned the spirits of our fallen back to their bodies. Only by working as one were we able to live to tell our tales. I have slain many formiddable creatures. My aim and swordsmanship are almost completely mastered. Yet I am but a tiny light among a sea of lights. No one person is strong enough to conquer everything by themselves. The battle with Morphaz has reiterated the lesson Jocaste taught me so long ago. And yet, I feel this is only the beginning. Morphaz fell from his noble flight, and he was not the only green dragon found in that temple.

How many more have fallen?

-Bronil Nightwind

(( Edit: I doubt those from the group I was with this past weekend read these forums, much less this thread, but just the same, I want to give a shout-out to them. Great group guys! ))

10/22/05
It is time for me to return to the Un'Goro Crater. Arch Druid Staghelm, and the rest of the Cenarion Circle it seems, is very interested in collecting a plant known as 'Morrowgrain' which apparently only grows with the help of Un'Goro soil. After he gave me the task, he said, "Do not think this task of gathering to be beneath you. Though it may seem small, you are aiding the Cenarion Circle, and I hope you are at least wise enough to see the value in that." Beneath me? How could any Kaldorei view this task as beneath them? Though I must admit, I am surprised that there is no one in the Cenarion Circle already working on this task. Now that I am here in Un'Goro, I understand fully why I was sent.

Un'Goro is a beautiful place, Celesst, filled with things I have never before seen anywhere else. I would like for you to see it sometime. . . provided you were escorted by a squad of highly trained Sentinnels. Many refer to Un'Goro's beauty as a "savage beauty". Though this place is indeed wonderous, it also very dangerous. Many of the creatures here are the fiercest I have ever encountered, and it has taken all of my training as a Hunter to be able to survive in this land. Gathering Morrowgrain is no menial task, not here where one walks amongst so many predators.

The Arch Druid was wise to send me, and not just anyone who passed by him. Rest assured I will collect the Morrowgrain, and return to Darnassus in one piece. Arch Druid Staghelm would not have sent me unless he felt certain I would return with the Morrowgrain.

-Bronil Nightwind

10/24/05
"The Cenarion Circle thanks you, Bronil. Should you find yourself in Un'Goro again, be sure to cultivate some more samples, as the Circle could always use more Morrowgrain."

"I will." Bronil bowed respectfully, and began making his way out of the Cenarion Enclave.

As he left the the tree that Staghelm resided in, a voice called out from high up, and to the left, "Nightwind!"

Immediately Bronil knew who the voice belonged to. His teacher, Jocaste, was the only one who addressed him by his family name; she claimed that she liked it better than 'Bronil'. Though a strict teacher by any means, Bronil admired and respected her. Turning in her direction, Bronil started the walk up to the one who had taught him nearly everything he knew about the Hunter's Path.

"Yes, Jocaste?" Bronil replied when he reached the level of the tree that she taught in.

"I have something for you. Wait here while I retrieve it."

As Jocaste walked off, Bronil looked to the east, towards Dolanaar. He visited Darnassus more than he did his own sister. Always he struggled with the desire to go to her; and as always, he forced the thought out of his head, and reminded himself of all the things still left undone.

Jocaste returned with something long and triangular, wrapped in cloth. Unwrapping the cloth, she revealed a large sword in its scabbard. The hilt was a dark blue with a bright gem on the end. The guard was in a 'W' shape, and bore a skull. Regardless of how well crafted the blade may be, Bronil did not trust the sword.

Sensing her pupil's caution, Jocaste explained "It only looks evil. Ironically, the blade is designed to destroy demons. The one who forged it apparently thought it fitting to give it a fearsome look."

Bronil's opinion of the sword changed slightly at the mention of demons. He hunted demons relentlessly, and such a sword would come in handy. However, the design of the guard told him there was something else about the sword. Again, Jocaste seemingly sensed his thoughts.

"Though adept at slaying demons, this blade must be wielded with great care. It is not like any other sword. It has a hunger for demons. Many that have sought to use it in the past became consumed by the sword's hunger. In slaying demons, they had become demons themselves, continuously hunting down demons as if hunting for food. The blade has since been entrusted to me for safekeeping, to see to it that no one else becomes infected by it."

"I am not sure --" Bronil began voicing his doubts, but Jocaste resumed speaking again.

"I know, Nightwind. You too share a hunger for demons. It is good that you consider not touching the sword, fearing that it will only increase a hunger you already possess. . . . and that is why I trust this blade to you, Bronil Nightwind. This is the next step in your training. To master the Demonslayer, you must master yourself. However, by no means do I intend to force this upon you. The decision to wield the blade or not, is entirely yours."

After a long pause, Bronil looked his teacher directly in the eyes.

"I accept."

10/27/05
(( Much <3 to Stamp and his hoof :) ))

To fight a demon, and not become one. Am I capable of such? I would like to think that I would never succumb to being no different than the demons I hunt; that I am. . . immune to that transformation.

I am not.

There was a time, when I would walk the streets of Stormwind, and see demons walking the streets as though they were citizens, following their warlock masters. I was overcome with the desire to kill; to kill not only the demons, but their masters as well. How could any rational person wish to consort with such vile creatures?! Yet I held my blades in their sheathes, and kept my arrows in my quiver. Kodrak sensed my restraint, and followed my lead.

Would it have been better if I had not restrained myself? Would the world have become a slightly better place to live in if I had spilled human blood in the middle of Stormwind that day? For the longest time, I had no answer to these questions. What I do know is that everyone walks their own path in life. There are no maps, so we do not know where our paths will take us in the end, only where they lead. For us to arrive at some universal truth, each of us must walk our paths of our own free will. A path is a series of choices. To force choices upon someone is to deprive them of much. Had I slain a warlock in Stormwind that day, I would have ended their path. They could no longer choose whether to continue their dark path, or to abandon it. I would have chosen for them.

However, I have not always restrained myself. In Feralas I saw ogres defiling the forest with fel magic, and without a care of the destruction they would bring. Restraint never even entered my mind. On that day, I did spill blood. By nightfall, not one ogre was left standing. They praised my exploits when I returned to Feathermoon Stronghold.

They were not there.

Action needed to be taken against the ogres; that much is certain. They were clearly threatening the land around them, and would continue to do so unless they were stopped. When I conferonted the ogres, I did not kill out of a duty, or a higher sense of purpose. I killed because I enjoyed it. With each kill I felt driven to kill more; I could not kill enough.

To fight demons, and not become one. . . . it is a difficult thing. I can only pray that Elune will help light my path.

-Bronil Nightwind

11/5/05
I have not been able to write for sometime. As I travel the lands of Azeroth, I see the corruption of the Burning Legion everywhere. Places once full of life are now merely hollow shells, a cruel joke in mockery of past times. By working with the Emerald Circle, I have been able to deal a significant blow to the workings of the Shadow Council in Felwood. I would like to stay and continue my efforts, but I must be off to the Eastern Kingdoms. The sword that Jocaste gave me glows fiercely in Felwood. Every waking moment I feel its hunger, it's. . . hatred. If I do not distance myself from Felwood, I fear the sword's hunger may take me.

So, I journey now to the Eastern Kingdoms. Word sends that the Alliance is in dire need of assisstance in a place called the Western Plaguelands. Though I do not consider myself a full member of the Alliance, I cannot in good conscience ignore a call for help. With luck, I will arrive in a day or two.

I know, Celesst. You want me to turn around back to Dolanaar. As you read these passages, I'm sure you are filled with worry. Worry not, sister. I would not write these passages if I thought I would not be alive to give them to you the next time I come back home. Take care, Celesst. Try not to glare at me too hard after you read this.

Your brother with love, -Bronil Nightwind

11/19/05
What we kaldorei have in Felwood is much like what the humans have in the Western Plaguelands. This land reaks of the stench of death and decay. The very air I breathe seems to want to take my soul. Shadow seems to sense it as well.

Oh yes, I have not told you about Shadow, have I? Shadow is a panther I encountered on a hunting trip to the Swamp of Sorrows. Something had injured his foreleg, and I did what I could to help. After that, the panther just started following me. I named him Shadow because that is what he reminds me of. As I travel the lands, he suddenly shows up from time to time to travel with me, and then just as suddenly vanishes. Kodrak seems to trust him, and I have never known Kodrak's instincts to be wrong.

So together, Shadow and I have been doing what we can to aid the Argent Dawn in their battle against the Scourge. It pains me to strike down these undead monsters, knowing that they are innocent, and did not chose their fates; who would? Yet, until a cure can be found for the plague, death will be the only release I can give them. A pity. I would like to know what the Western Plaguelands were called before the Scourge came.

-Bronil Nightwind