Log Entry #1; An Introduction To Me
Hello there. If you are reading this, then you are about to peruse the collection of the notes I have compiled while on my mission to the Nightborn seat of power, Suramar City. Since you are about to have such an intimate and personal retelling of my trials, I believe we should begin with an introduction of sorts. My name is Koland Millgrind. I am a magi of the Kirin Tor, primarily studying the effects of arcane addiction. I served typically under the Archmage Territh, though at the Archmage's command, I was sent to sit audience with the Council of Six themselves.
I had been nominated for candidacy to a very special and delicate operation; the one you are currently reading the mission logs for. For weeks the city of Dalaran has been preparing to make the largest mass-scale teleporation ever, to relocate itself over the landmass known as the Broken Isles. In this time, the Council has made their own significant efforts to establish some form of contact with the Nightborn elves who resided within the barrier-city of Suramar, a large elven city located upon the Isles. The barrier, all things seeming, was thousands of years old and almost impenetrable to any physical or arcanic means. No one could figure out a way to subvert the barrier and send message to the denizens inside. The good news is that, suddenly, the barrier came down. The bad news is that this was due to the Legion contacting the Nightborn first.
The forces of Suramar City appeared to have allied themselves to the Legion. Most likely out of a desperate choice for survival, but the possibility of the Legion swaying the elves with promises of power, despite the fact those same elves fought so tenaciously against them ten-thousand years ago, remains unfortunately viable.
But I ramble, forgive me. If you have not already lost patience and passed this introduction, allow me to get more quickly to the point. The Council remained unsure of how to advance after finding out the Legion had already sunk its vile claws into the city. Hope came from an unexpected place, however, when exiled Nightborn, calling themselves "Nightfallen" established communication with scouting magi. At first, the Council merely believed they only had the support of these exiled Nightfallen. But as our new elven friends realized the power of Dalaran and its Kirin Tor, things quickly became more serious. Through the exiles, the Council learned that there was a significant unrest within the city proper. The citizens were uneasy and many had a great mislike for their leaders' decisions to bend to the Legion, even if very few of them dared to speak up about it.
The Council also learned just how infested the city had become with its new demonic "allies". The demons have been harnessing unknown amounts of power from Suramar's Nightwell, a magical fount of indescribable proportions. This has not gone without loathing by many of the city's people. So much so that an active, secret rebellion is beginning to form. This rebellion is in merely its earliest inklings and much yet is unknown. Dalaran has little information on how many Nightborn are part of this stirring rebellion, nor the total population of Nightborn in general. We do not know how many demons are within the city, nor how many of them are of significant power or rank. We do not know what defenses the city holds, nor whose influence they are under. We know precious little. We do not even know if a rebellion exists. This could be a trap.
So this is where I, Magi Koland of Dalaran and the Kirin Tor, come in. Our Suramar contacts have given us a precarious opportunity. A high-ranking family from within the city will take one of our mages inside the cities walls to live with them. Under a magical guise, this mage will appear as one of the Nightborn and experience the city and its people firsthand. They will learn everything they can about the city, its defenses, its layout and its grid of power. This will be strictly a mission of observation, passively gathering and recording data and information that the Kirin Tor may use to get a clearer understanding of just how to deal with the new threat of Suramar City.
I was elected to be considered for candidacy due to my familiarity with elven magic and arcane addiction. If you're inclined to care, I spent years living and studying in the city of Quel'thalas, observing the wonderful and innovative ways the elves there were handling magic. When Quel'thalas was razed by the scourge, I spent even more years studying the effects upon the elves once their source of power had been pulled out from underneath them. I even wrote an entire book on the course of physical and mental deterioration that occurs in the bodies of elves who succumb to their terrible magical addictions. You can purchase a copy at most major literary outlets. A paperback version is currently in print.
But, enough. I have expunged the back story to this mission in greater detail than many would be inclined to read through. I write this first entry from my home in Dalaran, unsure if there will ever be any future entries. Tomorrow I will find out if I am to be summoned back to the Council to be given the choice of accepting or declining the mission. Despite the fact I have some degree of expertise in some of the outlaying factors of this mission and the people of the Suramar City, I confess I am unsure as to why a mage of a lower ranking such as myself is being considered for election. Perhaps they realize my genius and potential; or perhaps they just want someone expendable. Tomorrow will tell. Wish me luck.
Log Entry #2; Traveling To Suramar
I arrived early in the morning to the Council chamber today. I don't care what the others say, there's a certain beauty in the way falling infernals strike the first sun rays of dawn as they fall to the earth. As long as they're not falling on me, at least.
I kid. Forgive me, but I am still reeling from the excitement. As you have already surmised, I was chosen for the mission, thanks in part to the fact that I ended up being the only candidate. This log needs be treated more seriously from here on, as it is no longer a personal journal, only meant to contain a single entry, but a detailing on my experience to and within the City. The Council is quite eager to deploy the mission immediately, with Khadgar himself convincing the others that it should begin today. Sadly, however, despite the Kirin Tor having everything on our end in order to ship me out, it will still be another day or longer before our Nightfallen contacts reach out to us in order to take me on the path that will lead to Suramar City.
They might not even reach out to us at all. It may already be that their dissent was sniffed out by the Legion and all that remains of their fledgling rebellion is ash and corpses. Of course, it could be that I go into a trap. Time and fortune will tell all answers, an old mentor of mine was once oft to quip. I am excited, afraid and deeply curious all at once. I will find it hard to rest as I prepare to wait for any news tomorrow may bring.-
It has been four days. The first two passed agonizingly slow, the third somewhat quicker and by the morning of the forth I had begun to accept that we would never be hearing back from our hopeful new friends. But come the noon, I was summoned once again to the Council. Our contacts were ready, and I was to depart immediately. Depart I did, with a small detachment of battle-mages at my back. Khadgar himself sent us down to the surface, and he was only slightly off on his coordinates. After traveling by foot for an hour through the thick woods of Suramar, our party fell upon the group I had been sent down here to meet.
Naturally we proceeded with caution, to begin with. We were expecting to meet four individuals, and four is exactly what we found. There was to be a single cart. They had merely a single cart. Two of them would be fitted with armor and weaponry- you can perhaps, at this point, guess at the number of them were fitted with said armor and weaponry. Nothing seemed to be amiss, though a peculiar and interesting thing happened next.
Despite only seeing the four elves and their cart we were sent to meet, the battle-mages did a quick perimeter scan to assess the surrounding few hundred yards, just as they had done when we initially landed. The first scan had been completed with routine and simple efficiency. The second scan, however, did not go so routinely. As they prepared to cast their invocation, I saw small, weak pops of smoking power fizzle between the hands of each mage as they attempted to press their palms together to complete the spell's nexus. Though these pops were small in degree, the feedback felt by the mages must have been a bit more severe, as they each rolled back in obvious shock. At first I feared this was the trap, that we had been lured into some sort of anti-magic suppression area and were about to meet whatever end the Legion planned in store for us. Thankfully, of course, this was not the case. The battle-mages all recovered quickly and seemed unharmed, if not joyful, at what they had just experienced. Before I even noted it, one of the four elves by the cart had suddenly vanished.
And before I had hardly noted that, he was upon us. It was one of the elves in armor, with weaponry. A second time I feared the trap had been sprung, but he quickly stated that he meant us no harm. The battle-magi were less than apt to trust him at the word. His physical speed and prowess were quite incredible, it seemed these Nightborn had lost little if any of their kin races' dexterity and ability. He introduced himself as Silgryn, a Spell-Fencer of Suramar, and our connection into the City. The suppression field was of his design, as almost any and all magical activity within the region of Suramar is detected, recorded and disclosed to the ruling parties of the City and its various fingers of influence. A fireball would be enough to deliver an armed detachment of Spell-Fencers, and our delicate cover would surely be blown.
The battle-mages were unwilling to find any comfort at this Silgryn's explanation, but I have decided to go into this with a more open and trusting mind. I am to ultimately pass through the gates of the city itself, if I am going into a trap then it is already likely far too late to save myself. I may as well die a trusting man rather than a suspicious one. At any rate and any fate, Silgryn will be a member of my escort. He and his companion, a fellow Spell-Fencer named Faros, are fringe patrolmen whose duty it is to scout the City's furthest outter perimeters. It is a duty that the city has not required in thousands of years, but it gives the elves ample opportunity to operate outside the burning eyes of their superiors and the demons that oversee them.
Silgryn and Faros were both tall and walked with strength. Though they were also notably somewhat thinner than their Night Elven cousins, they are less broad in chest and shoulder, and their faces seem to hang longer and look more tired. But it is their eyes and their steps that convey the raw and ancient powers they possess, refined by unimaginable years of self-imposed isolation. Even if I am going only into a trap, I am incredibly eager to see what so many lifetimes locked within their city has done to their power and their methods of wielding it.