Ignoring What Happened, Day Three on a Boat

My memory was never great to begin with, add turning into a rampaging monster with no coherent thoughts for a month and you get an ass load of amnesia. Or… Scrambled memories? There was a point to this.

Oh, right. Boat.

I couldn't stand staying below deck even for another minute. Too dark. Too crowded.

I'm not sure how/why/when it happened but whoever created Warcraft got a lot of things right… and a lot of things wrong but that's a whole other can of worms.

Things that are right, though:

Night Elf ships for one thing. Long and low to the water, purple sails the whole she-bang. They are a lot bigger though, like an actual ship and not… You couldn't go below deck in game and there's about a dozen plus crew instead of the five or six NPCs.

Captain, sorry, Admiral Nightwind is an interesting man and is great company. He's also who I'm hanging out with right now, seeing as anywhere else I hunker down to write is met with understandably irate deck-hands telling me to move it.

Anyways, Nightwind. From what I've gathered he's been around for a while. Since the War of the Ancients a while. Yeah. He's seen a lot. Knows a lot too. So I guess he could tell that (the collective) we were still reeling from the Curse and then the Forsaken's attacks.

"War," He said. "Must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.*" A pause. "There is no shame for the grief you feel, Riendeau. Both for the brothers you lost and for the enemies you have slain; because that is what makes you who you are: A fierce soul that would rather use words rather than steel. Use your words, druid, when the next opportunity presents itself."

What do I remember? What do I remember from my life before the Curse, before I came to Azeroth? Blurred faces and disjointed names, sights and sounds I should know that can't name, places where I've spent my whole life but can't recall.

But here I am, creating new memories born of fear and panic and grief, pushing out who I was for what I am becoming. And for what? To adapt? Into what? A stone cold warrior? Incapable of feeling?

I don't… Want that.

We took back the city in the final assault, plowing through Forsaken soldiers and abominations like a hot knife through butter…

A/N: Few things:

1: I know that it peters off at the end, it's supposed to because of the sheer volume of information that would need to be written and, to be honest with you all, I nether have the time nor patients to write it all out. It will, however, be referenced now and again. Seeing as how our heroin was the only one continuously transcribing the events that occurred. So there is that.

2: *- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

3: Guest Jay: I feel you on mixing up stories, I do that constantly. Nothing to worry about m8