Book of Mirrors

Sun
A serpent

Moon
A wreath of laurel

Stars
Obsidian

Void
A candle

First order of business, acquire the proper materials...

½ pk Adder's Tongue
1½ pk Deadnettle
1 pk Deathweed
½ pk Dreaming Glory
1 gal Dust of Decay
2 gal Dust of Deterioration
2 gal Essence of Agony
½ pk Flamecap
1½ pk Maiden's Anguish

If stored well, this stock could last approx. a year, unless we are unexpectedly overrun. The Essence of Agony may go rancid(?)

I must be mindful of the power. For without it, how will I experiment? As I told my business partner, we must learn to stopper the uncontainable.

(( 1 peck = 8 quarts; 4 pecks = 1 bushel; 1 bushel = 8 dry gallons;
4qt = 1 gallon
∴ 32 quarts = 1 bushel; 1 peck = 2 gallons))

Kaldorei influenced handwriting

Sister Doherty,

Have received two unidentified draughts, both are drugs for temporary enhancements for elementalists.

More intruiging was an additional item, a piece of stone. Whose opinion do you trust for such things, especially when there is an abnormal property involved?

Patients continue to complain of ailments of the mind when seeking sleep. Nonconclusive results so far, but frequency may have increased.

Lux salve tu.
Ahriman Hakim
by Illusia Lune

---

A wrinkled letter...
The writing is shaky and spotted with moisture. It must be rather cold and snowy wherever the writer is.

I thought it would go away if I rid myself of the gem and the Gulch. Maybe I was wrong about-- but they don't oppose it. They seem excited. Something is coming, if you'll listen.

It isn't the Lich King.


Lux...est ubi?
(unsigned)

A small piece of parchment and a rough shard of a gem

Mr. Hakim:
I recently ventured into Whisper Gulch and immediately thought of your last message. Please be cautious with the contained item. When I hold it I feel something, itching the back of my head, down my neck. I believe this is something you and I must be vigilant in observing. If you know the feeling from this stone is somehow connected to your patients' behavior, please get back to me by post.

Cave Sargerae
(unsigned)

Dwarvish Print
Sister Doherty,

Hope your time in Northrend has not been great in its tribulations. Am enclosing draughts for dreamless sleep; some patients have reported hearing dark whispers in their sleep and others have seen horrifying visions.

Walk in the Light,

Ahriman Hakim
Penned, Celidh Aletracker, Valiance Keep

---

Mr. Hakim,
I received your note and the generous gift. Due to my special circumstances, I will not be able to imbibe them, but I can pass them, in good will, to my colleague.

I send you two powerful elixirs I have come across that I do not know the use of. Perhaps you will be able to decipher them?

In nomine Sancte Lucis.
(unsigned)

Camwethrin
Gledriran
Indaray Indarae
Kathetia

It is so quiet these weeks. As Kath said, I should count it as a blessing. It has given me much time to do things on my own, even reflect.

When I am ex-communicated and living alone with my Sins, I shall pen The Heretical Writings of Nerit Doherty. Mayhaps it will be published posthumously, found under my collapsed form or hidden under my death-pillow. Then the world can know how the devout can yet not be devout, how the heretics can be also followers. In it, I should admit everything. Unless I have one to carry on Bidelia's teachings...but that is so far off...

I wonder if any could understand how to be raised in twain. To see the merits of both sides, unable to abandon either whilst fighting for the one that is shoved underneath in constant anxiety?
That is what the Inquisitors will not get from my lips. Only the touch of paper by my own quill can hold such information. For how much of my soul has been put to paper? Not this journal, but everyday life and work as a scribe? 

Useless twaddle and musings above, I think. For now I study the more offensive arts, having been turned away from the shadowmancer--who is not a priestess. As I discovered to no little misfortune, certain of Light spells are absolute drivel against certain enemies. Paladins are taught better things, but I haven't the strength to bear swords and hammers. But let no man say how he "smites" an enemy, liar! Say him instead to send on it Holy fire. It works better but leaves very little room for anything else. An explosion of Light-- Holy Nova-- is far less efficient too, and leaves one exhausted. What then is left? Light is not made for pain unless it is against its only TRUE opposite: (un)death. Light is of life and sears only in the most extreme cases. Who has been struck by an enemy and then miraculously healed by the same power? No, this leads me to the conclusion that I must utilize its under-current.
Funny, isn't it, that the more light there is in the world, the stronger there is the shadow? A simple experiment of the physical world will prove it. You can be engulfed in the light, surely, like the hot zenith of the sun, but how concentrated is that shadow under the feet? Perhaps some would argue against this view, and I understand why (for of course shadows are longer at sun's rest, but that is missing the point). All this proves to me is that there is shadow with Light, always. When you put more lights on an object, only different shadows appear...

Is it an act of Balance? Oh, leave it be, leave it be.

[ Several pages of various paper types glued into the book. ]

Dear Ms. Darkmoon and Mr. Koth,

I am afraid I do not bring cheerful news. In fact, I am hesitant to write this at all due to what we discussed previously; I do not wish to directly interfere in a troll's business any longer, but when he addresses me so truly as friend it is hard not to respond. Apparently Kath too was unfaithful to their commitment, and he plans to kill Elithrar in revenge. Do what you will with those words.

Secondly, I thank you again for your generosity in the matter of my Inquisition. Yet I implore you for the direction my belongings went.

Sincerely,
Nerit

*~*~*~*

September 27, 619

To Lady Justice Chiori:

Your inquiry has been made. The Lord Inquisitor appears to be having a personal crisis in faith~ not in the Light, but in the people of Stormwind. He is ill at ease by the rampant selfishness and indifference which he perceives to run the city. I do not know if this began before or after his death by Frostmourne (he showed me the mark upon his breastplate). If I may say, Lady Justice, his disheartening doubts are curious for one who is in the position to inspect the city's institutions-- would it not be his motivation in the first place? To better the Kingdom?

I pray this is what you desired of me and that this letter finds you well.

Per Lumen Vitae,

Sister Nerit

*~*~*~*

September 28, 619

Thank you kindly for your news. Lord Ewane is obviously concern of mine as he holds great power and persuasion with the Order.

Foremostly, the safety and over-all health of the people are my affair. Situations can become complex when senior ranking officials find themselves under constant pressure and, sometimes, duress.

Please know that I am not accusing Lord Ewane of these burdens, but, rather, gaining a sense of what is current with him.

I am greatly disheartened by his grievances on the matter of our City's prevailing state.

Many good persons work hard to cull the over-spill of criminal activity into the streets of Stormwind. Many of them are largely underpaid and overworked. And many times their performance is stalled by private citizens who believe they are above the law.

It is up to those whom have donned the mantle of civil service to find new and innovative ways to bring justice and peace to the good people of our fair region.

I perceive Lord Ewane to be a just and merciful man. I only wish the institution by which I am employed allowed me to be as clement as he.

Lux Lucis Rector Vos,
Chiori

Justice of the Peace, Stormwind
Administration Department

*~*~*~*

Nerit-

As far as I've gathered, she's skipped town. Fleeing like a rat seems to be in her blood as much as it was with her late husband. I'll have more information when I get a chance to gather it.

Sincerely,
Padishar

 

*~*~*~*

Howdy, Nerit

Been a while... and our last meetin' wasn't exactly on the best of notes. Perhaps you'd like to take a visit down to Booty Bay, share a pint or three? Think we both could use it.

-Huk

*~*~*~*

I heard what happened in Ashenvale, if I can do anything to help you, let me know, I'll do what I can...I know how it feels to see someone you care for taken away like that....

 

Sincerely,
Gledriran Sentris

*~*~*~*

[ Flattened to reveal a red wax seal printed with a stylized "A" ]

Nerit,

Come back to me.

-A

*~*~*~*

[lacking much of the original, which before being incinerated had flowing scrawl in another language, enchanted to shift as the correct reader's eyes would move over it]

Nerit -

Whatever you require shall be done.  Destroy this message.  If anyone questions me as to aiding you, I will not risk my position or my freedom to aid you further.  Do not put me in the position of having to give you up.  Use caution.  Find me this evening.  I will be near.
- A

 

I have snuck to Ironforge tonight, after witnessing the strange remains of a broken man in the Cathedral. (Who is Isabel?) And I haven't had the opportunity to pick this up since before my Inquisition.

On said Inquisition: I laughed even while I shook when I came upon all the implications of the outcome. Of all things, Ewane! Drinking? Assault? My conduct, Lord Inquisitor, you will never know if you did not care to dig at all. And now, even more have I violated the ideals of monasticism.

It almost feels liberating to say.

Pray, what else am I not supposed to do now? How far will I go before they know?
Poverty, Chastity, Obedience. Chastity no longer requires Temperance. Not wholly. But the others? Well...I do not take coin lightly.

I remember my novitiate as the scared little girl I was. The Little Thing cursed Veracht would call me. I took those oaths after a year of menial labor, and how was I to know the direction of things? I knew even then, it was the only protection I would ever have. Don't ruin it now, Nerit.


Veracht. If the Light is truly benevolent, Veracht, you will stay dead. Please, because...I loved you. Darkness stay down, darkness stay hidden, hunger away from me. From the fool.

The fool that made a deal with the dark to save her own life, the fool that ran with a murderer and a demon, the fool that can no longer harbor in Redridge, the fool...

I thought the Inquisition was my time, the time when all things would catch up to me. The Second Inquisition, I shall call it, was far worse. All my mistakes, all my shortcomings were laid bare before the Soothsayer. By the ghost of cursed Veracht! And Rhiow, your visage that pains. Leave me behind, I am promised. Leave me behind.

Sometimes I long to dream forever. Sometimes I wish only for them, to take me by the arms as we run across the misty glade. But then I remember what I was shown, and all that could have been. And I long.
Am I the last? The lost?

((HERE IS A COPY OF THE LEDGER IN GUTTERSPEAK OF NERIT'S FORMER FAMILY PARISH.
Fate of parish added later in Gutterspeak. Raycroft mentioned several times. [Some accident or invasion]
Brother - unknown (joined silver hand)))


From the Census of the Taxable Population of Hillsbrad Foothills, Outlying Western District, 616
...
Avenbury Parish
Population: 80 Location: 13 miles due West of Southshore
...

Head of Household	Sex	Birth	Fratres	Filii	Filiae	Occupation	Profession	(Gutterspeak Addendum: Risen)
....
Raycroft, Father Elior	M	564	0	1	1	Parish Priest	Priest of the Holy Light	N
Raycroft, Aislin	F	571	1	1	1	Wife	/	?

...

(Gutterspeak) Addendum, 618: Avenbury found to be abandoned and razed, likely caused by arsen; no evidence of Scourge and/or foreign invaders.

Took the tram to Ironforge, then a gryphon flight to Southshore. Taking my food at the inn here before I will have to traverse Scourge territory to the haunted elven forests. I can't help but think the troll is leading me into a trap. I'm so naive...why do I fall to his kindness?

Probably because I am so desperate for answers. It is the last time I ask for information from Stormwind citizens. Syrinne, Ahriman; no one knows anything! I bemoan my pitious state of constant searching, hah! Wasted time in Shattrath, in Stormwind.

Ah, but to be here in Southshore. I try to ignore what I feel when I am here. So close to home. Where has it gone?


Nevermind. Must remember to tell Veras that Ananaias is in "Winterspring" if he asks after him. I very much doubt he is telling the truth...

Royal Overseer Bauhaus - Undercity Census

I am much too fond of the elf and her man. And her garden! What a magnificent sight! Plants even I had never seen before.

Though I think she is too keen on dragging me into her own practices. It was enticing to see the mind like a dream. To spy someone else's sanctuary... but I am content where I am. In a way.

So I provoked him. Only slightly. Light blessed me with some intelligence, it seems, because I was standing far enough away that he could not stab me with that knife. A knife that They do not like.

An interesting way to gain allies, I must say. Is he my ally...? No, no I'd think not. But he feels close to home in a twisted way. What would Auntie say? She knew people from the hills, people I was never allowed to meet. She knew of their ways.

And I know his.

September the 7 of 618

Journeying took the entire night, and I regret having the ale Rossalyn offered me in our last tavern-loitering. Watching the landscape blur below made my already unsettled stomach churn faster. The gryphon's flight was not all necessarily unpleasant, though I am quite sure the feathery creature and I were a hair's breadth away from being struck by a bolt of lightning. I haven't studied the exact composition of these pulses, but past the dryness there is an immense charge in the air of the Blasted lands. That makes me sound like much too much of a mage's enthusiast, so I'll leave it there. 

My poor mare, the one I bought from the stable in Nethergarde, was rather frightened the whole way across the desolate and broody place. One would think being born and raised there the animal would have been accustomed to it. She was absolutely stubborn about entering the portal as well, but I get ahead of myself. I had to drag her through like an ass by the reins, for there was no chance I was letting her get away with my belongings.

Of course, I was not prepared. The way through was instantaneous, but I mused then that it could have been much longer, traveling past ribbons of the Nether, and floating through endless stretches of twinkling stars in the vastness of the Great Dark Beyond. To correct myself, it must be either-or. Again something I haven't studied. On that silver thread of thought, it was extraordinary seeing straight into the dark places, with little (or less? for I breathed quite normally and we have inhabited the place for nigh on twenty-five years) air to protect the rock. The Nether and the Great Dark Beyond mustn't be the same thing, I think. One surrounds the other, I'm not sure which, and is a gateway or ways across the other, if that makes any sense. I suspect like many that the Nether is a plane of infinites, like the Great Dark Beyond, but it is the Nether whose magics allow interstellar travel...and I am getting far off track.

I haven't yet gotten used to the tremblings of the ground beneath me, and I forbid myself to ride to the edge, yet I doubt my horse would allow it anyway. Honor Hold is a-bustle with soldiers and adventurers. I may have to stay here a few days to get accustomed.

I must write a letter to Padishar, but I may wait until I reach the holy city of Shattrath. I do hope he informs me of the warlock's funeral, for I will have to plan my return trip. I am loath to think of the poor girl losing her mother again, but there is a certain satisfaction and finality to having a warlock and former Vile gateway be taken from this world. It is cruel, I admit I am torn on the subject... but now I'm peckish and must eat something, whatever it is they call nourishment here.





 

(Undated, but preceeds August 25 618)

There is always more to a person than first impressions. Of course I know this, but I am entirely susceptible to prejudgments, and it doesn't help when a certain man acts in supreme enmity of his fellow humans. It also doesn't help when he disregards the honor of a lady -- that is sarcasm, really to say: when he's a right pillock to a girl who fancies him! -- and disregards the honor of a man -- or not quite a man; I should say, a jammy plonker who never keeps out of trouble -- to get in a scrap over nothing.

Where was I...right, at any rate, the battlemage does have a bit of thought behind the aged lines and the mean tongue. He's seen far too much death, and caused too much. Mix in some unrequited love and he's quite bitter. He thinks himself a murderer, and said he'd probably kill me if there were cause (of which there is none). I don't take such things heavily, or condemn the people who say it.

There are those I can tolerate and those I despise, despite being a lady of the cloth. I believe the old man was the one who tested me most, harming innocents for the sake of harming them...I breached too much on that night... But the battlemage is not a killer of innocents, he is exactly what his bestowed title describes, an ardent warrior, though I'd much deny the heroics of it.

All of this comes down to the discussion we had when I found him sitting alone in the Square. I was drawn to him, and knowing myself I did not refuse my intuition. There is a pool deep within the man, made of fire. It distracts from his true wisdom as it engulfs him, but also feeds his intelligence in times of calm, like a burning candle. It was calm enough, and so he offered me advice I did not expect or consider previously. My nose is so far into the Cathedral's books I oft forget the things they describe are truly out there. Sometimes I forget myself and become too much of my father's daughter. It's been long since I went to the Forest...

Regardless. It is decided that I must leave the Eastern Kingdoms, in fact all of Azeroth, to better understand what has been passed to me. For the Light, but also for the S▓ allies. Never will the power and the Pact be in historical records, it is sacrosanct, but for myself and heritage, a broader perspective of which my ancestors never experienced must be found.

September the 4 of 616

Upon looking at the sun, I recall:

Here there is an inky sketch of a sigil. The center displays a sun with an upturned equilateral triangle, overlaying two circles, and whose angles intersect the inner circle. These contain old symbols and writing. Another, outermost circle borders the triangle with four equidistant symbols inside.

"Siras, Etar, Besanar"

"O'er the heart the talisman goes, to evoke the ones who answer for its beating desire. Be wary, sayeth Doherty, for even bright Sí pleasure in trickery."

This was one of few in Bidelia's records. She would never use the method for herself, believing such bindings lavish and unnecessary -- and against protocol. Quite so, for one of the many evoked in particular dislikes bondage, and he (so he goes by) displeases in arcanists. I have a mind to think this is one of the later evocations created, because only warlocks would delight in such precautions; perhaps the author was not so honorable in her measures but taught us the old ways regardless.

There are several pages of entries that continue the records of training in Northshire Abbey, along with the qualms and complaints that come along with it.

April the 1 of 612

I am crestfallen. It took me nearly three weeks to figure out why this last treasure was smuggled to me because I have been so preoccupied with the teachings. Now that I have learned why, I wish I hadn't had the epifany epiphany.

Auntie kept her book there, upon the table. She barely needed it because she remembered everything. I was the one who absorbed its pages, turning the brittle paper so delicately. All of it was intricate...beautiful. She said she was the first to write it all down, every single thing.

Hers is gone, and so is she. I am to have my own now. The monks, though, they won't understand. I am afraid to leave it anywhere, and afraid to keep it with me at all times. I shall fit it under the mattress, I think, since we make our own beds.

The handwriting is careful, though not all-together well practiced. 

March the 12 of 612

Mother is so clever. Inside my luggage I found this blank book wrapped inside a pair of undergarments. If Father looked through my belongings, he wouldn't have bothered there. I don't know what she intended this book for, so I write in it now like a journal.

I already miss Auntie.