Anselm Meyer: Journal Entries 1 and 2

[Rudi2]

Journal Entry 1:
It is June 2nd, Year 615 in the King's Calendar.
My name is Anselm Ernest Meyer the Second. I hail from the old Kingdom of Stromgarde which has fallen prey to the Syndicate and the ogres which are native to the Highlands. This is my first ever journal which I have had the honor in writing in. Such a skill, writing is. I have not picked up a pen in over thirty years! I've had the opportunity to purchase up this blank tome from a greenskin child which traveled with the Darkmoon Faire. He had tried his damndest to peddle this leather-bound book to me in the Lion's Pride while I was enjoying a tall lager after running a few errands from Westfall. I may not be partial to the greenskins, but they sure are stubborn. I paid the boy a silver and picked up a pen from one of the patrons upstairs to borrow for the night as I retire to my room. They'll be back for the pen in the morning.
Scribbling on this parchment gives me fond memories as a quartermaster serving under the Silver Hand. That is, until I was selected for the front line duty. To be fairly honest, I was too damn old for the job, jabbing shambling zombies and rotten ghouls with a long pointy spear. I certainly have came a long way from grace to get where I am now, drinking my earnings and all. I do not know why I am admitting all of this to a book. Strange.
In any case. Here's to a peaceful night; drunked up enough to experience some ol' fever-esque dreams.

Journal Entry 2:
It is now morning, June 3rd. I have, surprisingly, woken up early despite my state of being last night. It may've been early and I just did not realise. I went downstairs to ask the assistant what time it was when I decided to slumber. Apparently it was nine P.M. How odd. Here it is six. I guess the ripe age of fifty-seven affects the human body, and spirit, in strange ways. One of those ways being a terrible sleeping schedule.
Anyways: I remember my dreams fondly, despite being black-out drunk. It appears I've been having the same nightmare that I am usually blessed with when it comes to drinking.
It starts out originally enough, in my old retinue in the Blasted Lands. Just hours before the Kirin Tor had closed the portal for good. I was filled with rage back then. I wanted revenge on the blasted greenskins for what they had done to our brothers in Stormwind, where I coincidentally reside in. We were under strict orders to capture any orcs which fled from the portal. I disobeyed said order and put them to the sword. My blade was coated in the dark black blood which those beasts shed. Next thing I know, in the dream, a big flash of arcane light blinds me the moment I corner an orcish family in a small trench. The patriarch of the family put me to the ground, and ran off. I was found in the trench with a busted nose and bloodshot eye by my unit. I woke up after. I understand that what I did was wrong. The Light can not forgive me for such a sin of this magnitude, but my guilt is my penance to bear for the rest of my life. I have been on this planet for over fifty years and have seen three grand wars, and many other little conflicts which scatter the globe. Such a guilt-trip will not be the death of me as I have put that past behind me. All I can do now is lead my life for the better.

[Sinrek]

Where're the other entries?!? I gotta know what was next!!