15th Day, 7th Month, Year 33 since the Dark Portal’s Opening
[New journal – previous tome filled after so many centuries. Time to track the days more carefully now that I am truly living in the world again rather than merely watching it pass.]
So here I am. Back in the world after millennia of watching from the margins. The question now becomes: who shall I be?
I have spent so long as an observer that the prospect of participation feels… strange. Invigorating, but strange. The people around me move with such urgency, such immediacy of purpose. Everything must be decided now, acted upon now, resolved now. I find their energy infectious, though I must be careful not to let it override the patience that has served me so well.
The Horde offers the most promising avenue. They are practical, results-oriented, and less concerned with pedigree than capability. Perfect for one who needs his history to remain unexamined. I can present myself as a learned exile, perhaps one who studied the old ways in distant lands during the long years of isolation. Close enough to truth to be comfortable.
But what role to take? I find myself drawn to positions of influence – old habits, perhaps. Yet wisdom counsels caution. Better to start small, prove my worth, let others recognize my capabilities naturally. Let them come to me with greater responsibilities rather than seeking them out directly.
The war provides excellent cover for such an approach. Competent shamans are always needed, and competence has a way of opening doors that birth and politics sometimes keep closed.
First step: establish myself as useful. Everything else can follow in due time.
21st Day, 7th Month, Year 33 since the Dark Portal’s Opening
The trial is set. Three days of questioning, demonstrations of loyalty, and finally – if I survive the process – a review before the Horde generals.
As I understand it, this is not the normal process for new recruits… But they are right to be suspicious. A Zandalari shaman appearing from nowhere, claiming exile and offering service just as war intensifies? Even I would question such timing. The Kor’kron interrogator, a scarred orc named Malthar, pressed hard about my years in “distant lands.” I kept my answers vague but consistent – studied shamanic practices in isolation, watched world events from afar, finally moved to act when the stakes became too high to ignore. Close enough to truth to ring authentic. Far enough from it to keep dangerous questions unasked.
The questioning was thorough, but I suspect King Rastakhan and Princess Talanji may have already shared their own observations with Horde leadership. Both had stared at me with unusual intensity since my arrival in Dazar’alor – not suspicion exactly, but the kind of focused attention one gives to something that seems familiar yet somehow… wrong. Who knows what they may have told their allies about the strange exile who claimed Zandalari heritage yet felt different in ways they couldn’t quite articulate.
The shamanic demonstration went better. They wanted to see my elemental control, test my knowledge of the old ways. I gave them competence without spectacle – impressive skill, but nothing that would suggest capabilities beyond what dedication and good teaching might provide. The watching shamans nodded approvingly. One even muttered something about “finally, someone who understands the traditional forms.”
The final review proved most… interesting. Four generals debated my case in a war room thick with tactical maps and supply reports. For nearly an hour, they argued my merits and dangers. A goblin advisor kept insisting my story was “too convenient,” while others questioned why I hadn’t appeared during the Legion war when help was desperately needed.
Then Warchief Windrunner entered.
She said nothing to me directly, but her presence changed the entire dynamic of the room. The debate continued, but now with an edge of finality to it. She asked pointed questions of the generals – what did their intelligence reports suggest? How desperate was the need for experienced shamans? What safeguards existed for managing questionable recruits?
Finally, General Nazgrim spoke up: “The risk is manageable, Warchief. We assign him to Ironwave – they can handle a problem shaman if he proves treacherous, and utilize his skills if he proves genuine.”
She considered this for a long moment, those calculating eyes studying the tactical situation rather than me. “Very Well”
Direct. Pragmatic. No grand speeches about loyalty or duty, just cold assessment of military necessity. I found myself respecting the approach.
Later, in the privacy of my quarters, I had an unexpected… visitor. One I had not heard from in many centuries, at least.
“One among them carries shadow within shadow. Beware the loyal servant who serves another master.”
The words faded before I could ask for clarification, leaving only the lingering chill of Kith’arar’s attention. Whatever he sensed, he expected me to uncover it myself. The warning was given – now it falls to me to understand its meaning.
Something is wrong within the Horde leadership, but the nature of that corruption remains hidden. I have spent too long watching from the outside, deep in isolation, to easily discern the internal dynamics at play.
Still, the immediate goal is achieved. I have a place within the Horde structure, a chance to establish myself and learn the true shape of current events. Whatever shadow lurks among the leadership, time and careful observation will reveal it.
For now, I must focus on proving my worth to those who accepted me. Trust, once earned, opens many doors.
3rd Day, 8th Month, Year 33 since the Dark Portal’s Opening
Assignment came through today. As promised, my squad designation is Ironwave – two orcs, a tauren, and a goblin shaman. Not coincidentally, a unit perfectly equipped to handle a rogue elemental shaman, should I prove… problematic. Gorthak and Vera handle the front lines, while Stormhoof brings considerable shamanic experience of his own. Then there’s Krixxa Raincaller, a restoration specialist who makes no secret of her preference for tending crops over tending wounds in a war zone.
Clever positioning by the command structure. They cannot simply ignore a volunteer of my apparent capabilities, but neither can they blindly trust someone who appeared from nowhere with convenient timing. The solution: place me where my skills can be observed and my loyalty tested, while ensuring any betrayal would be swiftly contained.
I respect the calculation. I would do the same in their position.
For now, I follow orders, offer suggestions when appropriate, and prove my worth through competence rather than words. The warrior Gorthak leads well enough, though his tactical thinking tends toward the direct approach. Vera, a Rogue, complements him nicely – quicker to adapt when circumstances shift. Stormhoof watches me with the wariness of one shaman evaluating another, which is entirely reasonable.
It’s Krixxa who interests me most. Her heart clearly lies elsewhere – with growing things, with life rather than the taking of it. Yet when pressed into service, she performs admirably. There’s something to be said for those who find duty even when it conflicts with desire. Such people often prove more reliable than those who seek glory.
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