The (Un)living are Here!

[Holyssa]

*cleans the dirt off this section with a fossil-dusting brush*

((I'm in a writing mood, so in light of the recent zombie madness, I figure I'd write a mini-journal describing Holy's thoughts & experiences during the recent craziness. Enjoy!))

Thursday, 23rd of October

Last night I had finished a rather lengthy journey into the jungles of Stranglethorn, and we stopped at Booty Bay, one of Cresalia's favorite spots. The little one insisted we bring home some of that Pupellyverbos Port that the bartender had a "limited stockpile" of. When will she ever learn that no matter where the drinks come from, it'll just make her stupider with every sip?

I got the two of us a small room just above the bar...rather unusual to have so many vacancies, considering how many people get stabbed or shot just to get a room with a view around here. The goblins outside have been making a rather nasty racket over a new shipment of crates that came in by sea not long ago. One approached me while I was fishing on the pier this afternoon and begged that I cleanse this "itch" that had been bothering him since unloading the cargo. They really do need to be more careful around that stuff.

With Cresalia (happily) reeking of alcohol and my satchel filled to the brim with pearls from this morning's clam catch, we decided to set on home just before sundown. The Bay can be rowdy at night, and I did not want to risk Cressy making new friends with pirates and cut-throats. On my way past the Bay's entryway tunnel, a Night Elf woman suddenly dashed up to my ram, and threw herself to her knees, begging and pleading in her native Kaldorei tongue. Her skin was covered in small welts of green, her clothing was scratched and torn in various places, and her eyes looked as though she had not slept in days. Cressy was quick to place her hand on her blade even during her drunken stupor, but rather than make a fuss in front of the guards, we increased our pace and made a dash towards the zepplin.

Seriously, if the damned hussy elf did not get so cuddly with the native trolls in these woods, she wouldn't be such a diseased wreck. Then again, Kaldorei never were very bright when it came to meddling with nature.

We approached Grom'gol, and had secured a spot below deck on the zepplin returning to the Undercity. We looked over the edge of the ship and noticed a horrifying sight: the Kaldorei woman we spotted earlier had made a desperate charge at an orcish guard, leaping onto the guard and clawing at his face like an animal! Very unusual behavior even for her people. It took the aid of five grunts to pry the crazed woman off, and the last thing we heard as the camp faded into the distance was the death-cry of the odd woman...

Friday, 24th of October

Cressy knocked on my bedroom door this morning in a fit of absolute terror. Apparently a group of some four people had chased after her into the front gates of Silvermoon City this morning, but were quickly cut down by the local guards. She described them as having the same animalistic qualities as the sick Kaldorei lady, but far worse - patches of skin were missing from their bodies, and they were vomiting uncontrollably as they desperately dashed after my dear friend.

Perhaps the Wretched had escaped from Quel'danas? No...cleanup was going smoothly over there last I heard now that the Sunwell is somewhat stable. And this was far from ordinary Wretched behavior. If these were Scourge attackers, someone has a lot of explaining to do. And where the blazes are all these bugs in the Bazaar coming from??

Saturday, 25th of October

This morning looked as if a war broke out! Refugees from all the various capitols began swarming into any city they could, and Silvermoon was now a mini-hospital of sorts: men, women, and children alike were stretched out under small doctors' tents spread throughout the Walk of Elders, each bearing the mark of the Argent Dawn. I offered my services to the Dawn in order to help ease some of the chaos, but even my restorative powers could only handle so much. Many were grateful for my aid, but for each I seemed to cure, more would quickly fill their sickbeds. A recently married couple were among the most recently infected, but the two had died just within an hour or so of contracting the disease, even after taking restorative droughts from the doctors.

To make matters worse, the gates were under constant attack by decaying and sickened people. I don't know how long the guards plan to hold them off, but my beloved city just was not safe anymore. Just what kind of plague are we dealing with?

Sunday, 26th of October

The road to Shattrath was like a bad dream come true. This morning, Stonard was literally a ghost town, and the road leading to the Dark Portal was littered with raving, mutilated carriers of this new plague..some feasted on the hyenas desperately trying to fight back with tooth and claw, others fed upon each other. All I could do was look forward while we rode towards the foreboding glow of the gate to Outland, for if my ram slowed down for even a moment, I fear what would become of us, what would become of my dear blood-sister Cresalia.

Cresalia and I spent the night in my flat atop the Aldor Rise. It's not very big, but it has enough resources to keep us in good shape for the next few months... She's not very fond of the squid-faced folk, but their knowledge and acceptance atop this windy spire is far better than the spreading horrors beyond A'dal's reach.

I woke up not long ago from a rather short nap, only to discover a small camp set up by a group of Forsaken, one calling himself Putress. He gives off a very sickening vibe every time I pass by him, and he has been handing out delivery package orders to able-bodied folks all day.

Monday, 27th of October

Cresalia was bitten this morning while she went hunting for food outside the city walls, despite my warnings to stay in and wait for today's food reserves to come in. It took all my strength to not only crush the ghoulish fiend that had chased her beyond the already heavily-occupied guards, but I nearly passed out trying to clean the vile disease from her body. I can only hope that my magic can keep her in this world for just a bit longer, but if this keeps up, there won't be enough of us left to last the coming winter.

A flyer was placed on the wall of the Aldor bank not long ago, a call to arms soon being sent out to any who could hold a steady sword, gun, or staff. I took a good long look at the flyer, which portrayed a drawing of the Roof of the World, Northrend. The construction of the new zepplin towers couldn't come at a better ti-

[The journal entry is cut off short, the last word hastily scribbled as if the writer were caught by surprise.]

EDIT: Fixed some boo-boos. Thats what I get for typing in mid-lunch.

Edited October 27, 2008 by Holyssa