Musings of an Azeroth Mage (Book 1)
- - by Archin
(This entry will begin a group of story flashbacks of Archin's earlier years. I hope it's interesting and not too rambling!)
Ive been taking the time to reflect.
Reflect on my life, who I am, and what kind of a person I should be.
Ahh I remember in my youth how different of a man I was! How very much different than I am today. Was the change for the best? Is the Archin Brey of today superior to who I was in my youth?
But shall I start from the beginning? What started me thinking along these lines? Sure, I am a historian and as such Im used to looking back into the past to learn for the future. But I rarely, if ever, really think hard about who I was after all whatever I am at whatever given time it is certainly the best type of person I can be
Last evening, I decided to head into the Jester and decided to make a concerted effort to be overtly happy. Why not? After all, I am married to the fairest creature in Azeroth, I have a beautiful son, a wonderful profession. I am financially stable, more so than stable! I have friends, an intriguing life, and I believe I am respected by those whose respect is important.
So many people seemed surprised at my positive attitude. I do admit, that sometimes I get mired down in serious matters and because of such a mindset, I think very seriously towards many aspects of life. But I can be fun! I can be joyful!
A few incidents occurred that evening, however, that flung me out of my good mood and right into a very foul one. These incidents, which Id rather speak of in detail later, certainly warranted a serious response from someone as dignified as I!
I admit, rarely do I care about the opinions of others. Particularly the opinions of others about myself! Why should I? So many people are jealous of me! They resent me because Im a straight shooter (to use one of those slang Booty Bay terms) and I tell folks my mind. I cannot help it if Im superior to most people!
Nevertheless, I do care about the opinions of some towards me.
I remember when I was the leader of my Guild. I knew I wasnt going to be the best leader and I relied on my officers to help me for my shortcomings so to speak. I was not as diplomatic as others. I had a shorter temper than most. But my heart, my heart is true and just! It is!
Yet I would agonize, so often, because many members were afraid of me. Or they did not like me because I seemed grouchy all the time. Though I admit, most of the time I was grouchy because I was fending off jackals from courting my ex-wife. Yet I tried so hard to be friendly and gentlemanly to my friends.
Though many opinions meant little to me. Their opinions of me meant very much. I suppose even I need to have friends. Even I need to have those that will respect me, and look on me and smile, not scowl.
I even recall some members of my guild telling me how refreshing it was to see me in a good mood. How entertaining I could be! How much of a gentleman I could be!
So, I sought to be just that man last evening.
By the end of the evening, after tipping the workers of the Jester favorably and generally being a gentleman, I took a walk outside and was assaulted by a gnome. The little gnome leapt at me, telling me to prepare to die, and bounced off my chest like a fool.
I was flung into a rage. Who wouldnt be?!
After throwing the little gnome to the grass, I bore down on her and lady Peejee and Delesta quickly appeared at either side of me. While Peejee went to the gnome and started to talk to her, Delesta began to berate me for being mean to the gnome! Lest she forget, this gnome had threatened my life and tried to kill me!
I berated the gnome over Peejees shoulder, and Delesta grabbed me by my collar and dragged me off to somewhere private. At which time, the Night Elf had the audacity to say I was being a jerk of sorts, and that I should learn to be a bit nicer to people. After she browbeat me about my conduct, I reserved myself to remain quiet and stomped back to Peejee and my assailant.
I had returned just to hear Peejee say that I was an ungrateful, silly man and that I was always grouchy and angry.
I have to admit that hit a chord.
I had shown Peejee and, to an extent, Delesta as a whole absolute courtesy. Why, after sparring with Delesta once and swearing she was a fool, I even pardoned her after hearing she was a friend of Peejee.
Yet, for whatever reason, hearing Peejee say that about me struck me. It stunned me, actually. I suppose I see the likes of Peejee, Delesta, and several others as my newfound friends. But do they have such an opinion of me? Do they simply see me as a grumpy old man?
I thought long and hard at this am I a man different from what I was in my youth? I remember being young, enjoying the warmth of the sun against my face.. having long hair! Long hair!!
Thinking on this I cannot help but think back to those times. Those carefree times when I was just a lad in a world full of opportunities
This entire work is a telling of the life of Archin Brey, by Archin Brey. The opinions of the character do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the handler, be they philosophical, ideological, or personal.
Furthermore, as you'll see the perception of life around Archin Brey is skewed almost always into the favor of Archin, and as such his retelling or opinions of situations may not be truly how they occurred.
This is strictly and in-character account of his life, and has no bearing on any out of character factors. To draw such conclusions is to make an error.
For forty-one years I have stood as a staunch defender of the Alliance. I have been unwavering unquestioning and unappreciated.
Never before have I had these feelings, but the recent events in my long life have shown me the light, or the darkness, of my previous course.
As I look back on my life, I think of the times in which I knew peace. I remember as a young teenager, being able to travel through Westfall without the fear of thugs or the ravages of the Horde. I remember studying on a hill which once held a proud, tall tree. That tree has been replaced with a tower. That hill has been given a name: Sentinel Hill. The hill no longer stands as a bastion of academic achievement or personal relaxation. Instead, it serves as an outpost a guard tower.
What an interesting allegory which perhaps could be related to all that has happened in the Alliance.
My family was destroyed at an early age destroyed by the ravaging Horde that swept through Stormwind like a plague all those years ago and took my mother and father from me. Had it not been for the fact that I was studying with some of the budding Conjurors at the time, I would have shared the same fate. Thankfully, or perhaps alas, I was spared.
And from that time I have seen kingdoms rise and fall. Kingdoms the likes of Stromgarde and Lordaeron, now lying in ashes and ruin, along with all the good and just people that stood to defend it. Yet Stormwind and Ironforge now rise again to protect those in need, to defend those in trouble.
My magocratic brethren, spell-shocked by the destruction of the Violet Citadel of Dalaran, hide behind a dome of incredible power, twiddling their thumbs and planning contingencies but they do not DO anything. I find myself, behind that dome as well, scratching my head and taking their orders like a lapdog without a mind.
Without a mind!
A contradiction in terms for a mage to not have a mind!
My years in the navy, under the tutelage of Admiral Daelin Proudmoore, still resonates in my mind. Ahh when I was but thirty years of age and on the sea with my mentor, how carefree the world appeared! Those were times, away from land, in which I could rest and be unbothered by the pettiness of politics, the venom of manipulation, and the callowness of individuals.
A staunch defender of the Alliance aye that is what Archin Brey has been. An Alliance who embraces a woman who killed her father. An Alliance whose population is slowly being overrun with Night Elves who loathe their own brothers and hate those that use magic. An Alliance rife with political infighting, as my own studies have shown, seems to be more under the control of the Dragonflight than by any Human!
My travels to Silithus have proven to me the futility of this battle. Hoards of insects, poised to engulf all of Kalimdor and then, all of Azeroth, are growing in droves and mustering their numbers. In the wake of such an onslaught, the Orcish Hordes appear to be nothing more than a small Defias gathering!
And I, a capable and admirable mage with hope in his heart and conviction in his soul, must slave away behind that stupid dome of Dalaran and take orders from Mages who would rather wait it out as opposed to do something. What a waste
What a waste!
I grow tired of being wasted. I grow tired of being used. I grow tired of working under the banner of an Alliance who cannot defend the Mages. I grow tired of learning under a banner of a Magocracy that will not act. I grow tired, weary, and angry at the thought that all this Alliance has done is destroy those I love, waste those who have power, and squelch those who have thought.
And yet after recent events when virtually all of those who were once by my side have abandoned me. When all those who I cared for have forgotten me and when all those who gave a damn about me have disappeared I find a friend in the most unlikely of forms:
A practitioner of an art in which I have disdained and hated all my life.
And yet now I am somehow drawn to it I am somehow intrigued by it. I find myself, be it of my own volition or not, turning my face away from the glaring, burning Light and find safety and warmth in the Shadow.
It excites me and frightens me all the same.
I am not one to act quickly or rashly I should consider this a bit more before I come to a decision Ill write more when it comes to me.
Mage of Dalaran
Three quarters of the time that I spend any long period with her, I want to wrap my fingers around her slender neck and choke the life out of her. Aye clearly there are intense differences between the genius of the Dalaran Mage and the practices of a Warlock.
I should rephrase that. I find myself, more and more, not wanting to be referred to as a Dalaran Mage but rather, as simply a Mage. Being associated with Dalaran may have granted me the ability to learn faster and have access to more information, but now, I do not require them.
Aye, thinking on how the Mages make me slave away behind the dome and reflecting on how many menial and fruitless tasks I waste my time on, clearly they are getting more out of me, then I am out of them.
My biggest criticism of Warlocks (save for the fact that they are granted power by the Legion, of course) is that they utilize their minions as tools. That voidwalker of hers he follows her unquestioningly and mindlessly, it appears. I have seen Warlocks revel in the petty fact that they have something in which they can order around at any time. To send something to its death mindlessly, that is not power, that is a waste.
Yet this Warlock, she treats the voidwalker differently. She speaks with it she relates with it and she seems to want to protect it. Though I clearly see tendencies where she wishes to garner as much power as she possibly can, I do not see her reveling in controlling the minion. She respects it. She cares for it.
Like a vicious mirror reflecting the image back to me, I see myself as the tool and Dalaran as the puppeteer. I see myself; mindlessly and thanklessly working for those blasted Mages, who could give a damn about my own needs and me.
I see this example repeating itself over and over in my life. Was I a tool during the Second War? Was I a tool on the high seas, fighting alongside Admiral Proudmoore? Are we all just tools used by a thankless Alliance? Now that Proudmoore, Terenas, and the Lightbringer are gone, is there anything worth defending in the Alliance anymore?
I have watched Yumeko grow from a young, blinking Warlock of very negligent power to a truly capable caster and through that time I have seen a stark change in her demeanor. No longer a quiet, mild mannered Warlock that I knew in my Guild, she is now a strong willed Warlock with a clear goal and conviction. It irks me how sure of herself she is perhaps because I am not sure of myself?
I try so hard to appear self assured and confident but my confidence and my faith has been shaken. Indeed, its been shaken terribly. All of which I believed was safe, I see now as treacherous. To think that a Warlock serves as my only traveling companion to think that a Warlock serves as the closest thing I have anymore to a
well a friend.
I respect her hunger for power. I will say it. I respect it and I find myself hungering for the same thing. Dalaran acts as two violet shackles, holding me back from my ultimate goal. The Alliance, it bars me from being truly independent and getting what I want. Warlocks, they do not have these problems they do not have these petty, stupid fetters.
Yumeko told me I sound more like a Warlock than a Light-following Mage. I do not know if that was a barb or the truth. I am not a Warlock nay, nor will I ever be. But if I am not a Dalaran Mage, am I just a regular Mage? Am I something more?
I cannot ignore that she has been there for me, even if to taunt me when I would rather not be bothered. I find myself attracted to her to her beauty, her youth, her hunger a hunger of some sort that Im not familiar with.
Day by day, I come closer to walking into the Citadel and telling them to go to the Nether. To tell the Mages that I am done with them! To tell them that no more will Archin Brey be wasted! No more will he be scoffed at!
Like a moth to a flame, I am drawn to this woman
if I get burned, so be it. Ive been burned far worse in these past few months.
Mage of Dalaran
Today I very well almost told the Mages of Dalaran to pound parchment!
I am a careful and calculating man. Though I can be angered very quickly, I very rarely act rashly or without forethought. But today, being told that I was required to translate various tomes from High Elven to Common very nearly drove me to chuck the book at their gray haired skulls and leave that bloody dome.
Do these idiots realize that outside of the Violet Citadel there is a war being fought? That there are people dying and lives being destroyed? As if I, a Mage of great rank and knowledge, should be wasted inside of that damnable ruin while I could better be served on the battlefield!
My mind wanders to other groups, other individuals, and other goals. Part of me doesnt even care about those farmers that get cut down and the land that is razed. Why should I spend all my waking hours trying to protect those weaker than me? Did I not live a life without a family and have my home destroyed three times? Did I not have to deal with my own personal demons and tribulations?
If these idiotic people cannot defend themselves, why should I take up the banner? Besides, the bunch of inbred hooligans that make up the bulk of these people would be cautious and terrified of me anyway. Theyd probably chase me off their land after the bodies of the Orcs had cooled, and claim they didnt want nor need my help!
Ungrateful commoners ungrateful indeed!
Theyre no better than the high and mighty Mages that I have to stoop so low in order to appease. Why, I am sure if I had the opportunity I could blast each of them straight to the Nether and they wouldnt have a thing to say about it!
The other evening, myself, Yumeko, and two Night Elves went into Tirisfal and attacked the Undercity. I am not one to go into a suicide mission the Shadow excuse me Light knows Im far too intelligent to go into such an engagement without some sort of a plan. However, knowing that Yumeko was going in there, and knowing that we would probably be battered quite badly, I decided to go anyway.
Naturally, the Undercity did not fall. Archin Brey did not stand on the shattered remains of the Forsaken, but we brought a good number of them down. A Warlock, Mage, Warrior, and Priest waded into that cesspool and sent a good number of those cretins to their doom what an enjoyable endeavor it was!
Our battle led us to the outskirts of Brill, where we fought for a good while against various members of the Horde. I was appalled by the conduct of some of those brutes, attacking us at our weakest and overwhelming us. A true cowards tactic, fighting us like that on their own home soil. We even tried to be peaceable with them, yet the filth continued to harass us.
I did notice, however, a few members there that were honorable an Undead Priest and a Troll, as well as a few others who carried the banner of a similar group. My research has shown that this group was known as The Calling.
This brings a staggering realization to my mind.
Members of the Horde can be honorable! To show honor is to show some level of intelligence to show intelligence means one is not an animal.
This of course throws into disarray all of which I have thought of in terms of the Horde. Why those members of the Horde, they were more honorable than most men I see in the Alliance!
With these facts in my mind, I am relegated now more than ever to say To Hell to the Alliance and go about my own course. I know of other groups, particularly those that were once close to Dalaran, that have chosen a path far different from the controlling minds of the Kirin Tor and their brethren
Our travels ultimately led us to Orgrimmar, the Horde capital. While the Night Elf and Yumeko continued to berate me, we snuck into the city and hid ourselves on the roof of one of their buildings.
The second realization that I had, something I did not expect, was the intense rage that filled me when I ever saw Yumeko fall. How dare anyone lay a hand on that fair girl and threaten her with harm. Even if she prods at me and claims that Im a misguided Mage, what does she know? Shes young, and with youth comes stupidity, thats simple enough and I can dismiss that.
But now as my feelings for this girl change from one of opposition to one of collaboration, am I just making excuses to justify and allow myself to get closer to her? Am I somehow tricking myself into giving up a piece of my own ironclad will so that I can rationalize accepting her? Am I in control of this at all?
What the Devil is happening to me?
Our adventure ended in Darnassus, of all bloody places, with just Yumeko and myself at the moonwell of Elune. I gaze up at that statue, with that pure, cool water cascading from her cup, and I see nothing. Where at once I thought I saw the manifestation of a God, instead I see an inert piece of stone whose will blinds the eyes and corrupts the minds of her judgmental Night Elf quarry.
Yumeko and I, we talked briefly as she washed the grime and dirt off of her fair skin I wanted so much to remain there with her, drawn to her as I find myself invariably being pulled. But I was upset, the night had been eventful, but the wounds had been deep physically and even though I enjoyed her company, she had uttered some things that evening that had wounded my pride as well.
Despite my hunger my urge to stay with her, I turned on my heels and left that bloody tree. The image of her glistening skin in the moonwell still resonates in my mind.
No matter how hard I try, I cant shake it.
My word a lot has happened.
Looking around at my current state of affairs, I would hardly have expected such a situation to arise.
I sit here, on the shore of Dustwallow Marsh, just on the outskirts of that bloody fortress known as Theramore Isle.
I loathe Theramore and that treacherous Lady Jaina Proudmoore that sits in her tower. I question her motives, as I always have, considering she brutally aided in the death of her father, my mentor, Admiral Daelin Proudmoore. That Night Elf, Pained, that hangs around her only increases my suspicions. Why would a Night Elf, a member of a race so adamant against users of magic, be carousing with Jaina Proudmoore?
The questions are many, the answers are few. The bane of a Mage is to have a question that has no answer or to have a question in which an answer cannot be found.
Regardless, this is not the sole reason why I am intrigued and shaken by my current state of affairs. Gazing to my side sleeps none other than Yumeko, curled up in a small ball and wrapped in a runecloth blanket that I myself sewed for her earlier this evening.
Thinking back on the events of the evening, I can hardly trace how we got from point A to point B. Yumeko had wished to visit an island, Alcaz Island, which was guarded by some very powerful Naga and Hydrae. Swimming to the island itself, we studied the surrounded area. I particularly grew interested after spying the top of an Alliance tower on the island, and a flag which I believe bore the symbol of Theramore, though I could be wrong.
The swim was hard, particularly after the previous night in which we had battled the Horde in Orgrimmar, I had sported a rather smarting gash in my left leg and needed a rest. Sitting on the shore of Dustwallow and gazing out into the endless sea with Yumeko and warming ourselves by the fire, it was a relaxing and wholesome situation.
I think back on my life and all the troubles that I have had. I think of the love that I had lost, the people who were taken from me, the trials that I have endured, and the destruction that has been wrought throughout my entire life and yet gazing out at the crystal blue water and seeing the sun dip down beneath the hills behind us, all of these problems seemed to melt away.
It was just myself and Yumeko
and an annoying turtle that would NOT leave us be. Stupid creature continued to skulk around the sand all blasted night why hes STILL skulking around!
Doubts have arisen to just how truly different Yumeko and I are. We Mages, we struggle with the pull of the Nether, which is a corrupting force. It corrupted the Highborne ages ago yet we humans are blessed with a short lifespan and therefore cannot truly be corrupted at least so many say. Men like Medivh, however, blow that theory to pieces after seeing what Hell hes put us through.
Nevertheless, the question rises in my mind as I find myself inextricably bound to a course that forsakes my past and embraces a future far different from one that I had expected. Would I be going along a course similar to Medivh? Is it selfish, foolish, and evil to want power? At forty-one years of age, I have many years left to live, but am I stagnating? Have I leveled off in my studies and now find myself hungering for more? Is it that simple? Or is it something else? Is the Nether pulling me towards a want for power?
Has Yumeko acted as a catalyst for these thoughts?
I really shouldnt think of things like this. The idea of a Mage being unable to control himself is preposterous! Archin Brey is a man of iron will and solid resolve. Anything I do will be of my own free will!
Needless to say talking with Yumeko led us to a warm embrace. She is a self assured and strong woman, but I see emptiness and loneliness in her eyes that I want to fill. I see in her the young, naïve Warlock that she was when I first met her one that required help from those that would give it one that bristled under the judgmental eyes of those that did not understand her.
Men like I who did not understand her.
I felt twenty years younger in her embrace and my heart swelled with pride as I held her. When it appeared that I was truly alone and relegated to a fate devoid of hope, this beautiful Warlock snatched me from the fire and protected me. I am inclined to do the same for her, with whatever nightmares haunt her.
And if that means leaving Dalaran so be it.
If that means forsaking the Light and saying to Hell with the Alliance so be it.
No man will ever say Archin Brey wasnt stubborn.
But no man will ever say that Archin Brey wasnt true to a cause he believed just.
And this moment in time... and for the future I certainly hope, my cause is to be with this Warlock. To protect her, to educate her, and to learn from her in such a way as to blast away my old idiosyncrasies and make me a better man. Not just for myself but for her as well.
I cannot sleep with someone that I do not love.
End of Musings of an Azeroth Mage Book 1
[Book 2 --->]