Anselm Meyer: Journal Entry 3 and 4

[Rudi2]

Journal Entry 3:
It is now June 5th. My travels have taken me from the Lion's Pride in Stormwind to the Pig and Whistle Tavern. Here I enjoy a tall, bitter, but watered down, beer. The whole building smells of... crab? Or is it fish? Turtle?
While it is brightly lit, the whole bar reeks of smoke and torchlight. Hell, I even saw a rat scurry across the counter not long ago before the barmaid's cat snatched it. I can hear chatter and clamour from a group of people who hail from the mercenary company known as "Greysteel". While a nice, quiet, polite bunch they certainly are too much for this echoey, large building.
I have been tasked with traveling from Westfall, during my errands there, to travel to Redridge to speak with the mayor to investigate the increasing population of bandits and highwaymen on the roads. But upon leaving the bar for the night, some odd thought popped up in my mind..
"Go to church."
It seems as though my instincts have kicked in and, well, here Iam writing while on my way to the Cathedarl Distriht to attend a sermon and confess my wrongdoings for the day. That's easy. Drank and slept. Hell, to be fair I don't recall showering. Even while writing during the sermon I'm getting weird looks from the women and their daughters. Ironically, the Archbishop was speaking about the term "live and let be" which simply means "live by your own belief in other people, and leave others be. Like me.
Oddly enough, the men and sons did not seem to mind my raggedy clothing and stench. Reminder: wash up before hopping on the tram.
Upon leaving after the sermon, I took a bit of a walk around the district. Nice and quiet, it is. I heard some ruckus going on just to the left of the fountain. It appears to be an orphanage. The nanny responsible for the children barged outside with two little cherubs, one boy and a girl. I can't recall what she said specifically, but it appears that the boy snatched some paint from the trade district and dumped it all over the girl's bed.
I went to investigate, as any old cripple does, still donned in my chainmail and bronze armour. The nanny looked up at me and inquired if I just so happened to be an adventurer or not. To which I agreed I was, and she sent the children inside.
"Well. I am." I said.
"Oh, thank the Light!" She exclaimed, promptly reaching out to me for a hug. But after catching wind of my stench, she promptly retracted. I assured her that I was just about to wash up, after that little awkward spell.
"Randis here has been a little troublemaker at the orphanage for a good year now, and there is no sign of change in the boy. I was wondering if you could take little Randis off of our hands for a while and show him what there is to" She said, hushing to a whisper which I mimicked.
"Why is he here in the first place?"
"He lost his parents to the Scourge some time back in Lordaeron. They were adventurers, just like you. He's only eight."
I went quiet after that. It appears as though the undead have taken away the boy's innocence, home, and family. To some extent, I can relate. I, too, was adopted - four years after losing my beloved mother to highwaymen on our way home from Dalaran for some reagents. She was an apothecary. I was around thirteen or fourteen, I believe. I saw it with my own eyes, how they robbed us of every piece of copper we had. They had no interest in the herbs and vials which my mother required to stock the store. They destroyed everything in the horse-drawn cart we so proudly flashed around to our relatives who were farmers just outside of the city, and burnt everything inside. Then, well. I believe I'm done writing about this subject. All-in-all, I accepted to take the boy for a few days, as promised.
I might have met his parents some time in the past during the war. I just wish I could've done something for the boy's parents during that time. Like if I knew then that they would perish.

The lower-half of the page appears to be smeared with ink to some degree, and the parchment feels thick to the touch as if it were exposed to water then left to dry.

Journal Entry 4:
I'm now on the tram with Randis, here.. After visiting the washhouse for the poor in the Cathedral, then after getting directions from an impolite, even smellier dwarf in the Dwarven District. Who actually seemed to be more nicer to the boy than to me, his elder. This is actually my first time on such a device. It appears to run on gears and momentum. During my tenure in the war, all dwarves had was gunpowder and big, big firearms. The tanks used appeared to be a mix of gnomish and dwarven engineering. I may be wrong, but oh well.

I have now landed in Ironforge. Again, my first time in such a large city.
"You know. This isn't my first time in Ironforge. It smells pretty bad, doesn't it?" Randis said.
I got a pretty good chuckle out of that and nodded. "Yeah, it's something special."
"Wait. Why are we in Ironforge anyways? Didn't you say you had business in Redridge?"
"That I do, boy. But Miss Nightingale was looking through your things, helping you pick up and all." I said. We had been walking a good distance to the nearest general store for some warm clothes and provisions to help us get through Dun Morogh. "We're going to Loch Modan to see the dam, like you've wanted. She told me after getting the idea from your little journal."
"Wait. We are?"
"A-yup. I might be able to score a few jobs there, as well. So it's a win-win."
That little boy screeched my ear off with excitement. Talking about all the things he's going to buy to throw off the dam. He seemed more excited to visit the dam than he did with a woman he's known all his life read his private diary.
That boy has his priorities all messed up.
So here we are, in the tavern at Thelsamar after showing Little Randis the Stonewrought Dam. He is asleep in the lower levels of the building while I'm enjoying my beer. In comparison to the lager at the Pig and Whistle and Lion's Pride. Those shorties have the bee's knees going on with lager. I will write again soon.

It's 4 A.M. now, Randis is still out for the count. I'll wake him up at around six or six-thirty.

I had another dream.

This time it was in Lordaeron during my tenure in the Scarlet Crusade, which I had the honour of serving under the Ashbringer's son, Renault in the Monastery. I had the privilege of guarding the entrance to the chapel where he and her holiness, Whitemane, had resided. Those two seemed rather close. But something happened that night I was on watch. His brother, Darion had arrived with his father's sword, the Ashbringer itself. Even from there, I had felt the blade give off a sense of oncoming doom, of dread. Just like the last minutes before you pass away. I froze up, staring at Darion and his group of Argents which stared me down like a pariah.
"Send for my brother."
I bolted through the chapel's sacred halls, screaming at the top of my lungs" "COMMANDER? WHERE'S COMMANDER MOGRAINE!?
The moment I caught eye of Commander Renault, three guards drew blades at me and pointed them. After some explaining, they dropped their guard and, well. Renault came out with a group of men, including me. Next thing I see, Renault is shouting at Darion, whaling his fists into his own brother. I can not explain in enough detail what happens next. The spirit of those brother's father manifests outside of the blade, which laid on the floor just feet away from me. I felt a cold breeze on my neck with each second my eyes laid on that damn sword. The Ashbringer himself picks up his own blade, and struck his son with it. My superior laid dead at his feet. Alexandros left as quickly as he appeared. The sword dropped to the floor. The second the tip of the sword hit the stone floor, I shot up from my bed for the night, covered in sweat and mucus on my face. Randis had been watching me all night, saying I was stirring too much for him to fall asleep. He had my weapon in his hand, saying it was "for protection" because he said I looked like I was being possessed. I gave a chuckle, and he let his guard down some. I sent for a waitress and ordered the boy some stew to calm his nerves.

He's awake now. I guess another day of adventurin' awaits.

[Rudi2]

Hello, readers!
Hope you enjoyed these little snippets of my character's career as an adventurer. This is just a little idea I picked up running around with old Anselm. Entries 1 and 2, while out-of-the-blue to post, were very fun to write up.
I understand that some sentences and paragraphs are a little choppy in terms of structure and writing, but that is how I write. Even then, that's how Anselm writes. Afterall, these are his words on paper.