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This journal entry is written shortly after the fast-paced events of Tanaan Jungle. This Tuesday, the Vanguard will regroup after the events of Tanaan. This journal is her writing her thoughts during a moment of respite aboard the ships that carry troops from the insanity of Tanaan to safetyI would have posted this on Tuesday just before the event, but posting it a bit early because I won't likely have the time! ))


I contemplate destroying these words the moment I finish writing them. We came to this Draenor assuming an army awaited us and those assumptions proved doubly true. Any paper on my person would no doubt be used against our efforts to stem the Iron Tide. My only solace is that for this moment, we have left the Iron Horde behind and except perhaps Garrosh Hellscream himself, no iron orc of this world reads Common.


Still, a tortured prisoner could still read these words. So I write in an old Argent Dawn code and this small sheaf of paper may find itself still be tossed into a campfire before the end of the night. I write purely out of habit, to sort the clash within my own head and record the clash we just survived.


We now watch the night close in. An unfamiliar moon rises over the distant jungle. Tanaan, they call it, disappears into the distance. The lands we knew on Draenor's end of the Dark Portal were as red and twisted as the corrupted lands that surrounded ours; and yet this land is alien and new. If not for the enemies that pressed in around us, I would have been in awe at how utterly different the landscape was. This is a Draenor of the past, with its lands and people intact — save, of course, what changes Garrosh Hellscream made when he bore and latched onto this world.


Garrosh. It was perhaps wishful yet dark thinking to hope he would be on the other end of the Portal. His involvement cannot be denied and yet he has yet to make an appearance. Chieftains of a history decades passed chased us instead, pursuing us till the edges of Tanaan. That land is lost to the Iron Horde; remains its iron-clad nest. Our test now is how long until we can crack this stronghold and bring the iron curtain of this world down.


I take in the blessings of the battle thus far. The Vanguard rests for the moment and regroups in a few hour's time. Triumph must know that we were successful in the first phase of our mission. The Dark Portal is disrupted, the stone of its brutish framework destroyed. These orcs cannot come to our Azeroth and replay a terrible history.


And yet, as I see this alien world pass by in the night, I had forgotten another history. Even in the dark, I am struck by this world's beauty. This is a Draenor we Azerothians never knew. As Tanaan grows smaller in the distance, new sights, sounds, and smells come to us. All are unfamiliar, yes — but there is comfort. It is peaceful, even beautiful. In all our preparations for this place, I never assumed our first night would greet us with sights and smells such as this.


This world, too, was ultimately destroyed by an orcish horde. With the Iron Horde so deeply embedded in Tanaan and its numbers beyond count, history could again repeat itself. It is a wonder they have not taken this world for their own already. It is also a wonder that we, those who know this world's fate in our time, have arrived to see it poised for destruction again.


I find myself standing on two words: the home world recently left and this new world that I so desperately planned to leave as soon as I arrived. Now I see a hasty departure as remarkably cold. History will repeat itself here, though the chess pieces are now arranged in a new pattern. But the board is still the same number of squares and each piece's movement is still assigned by undisputed rules. The Queen commands all, the Bishop advises, and the Knight leaps end-to-end of battle them all.


Though re-arranged, we are still enemies. We continue to seek the end of one another. The arrangement is different, but the end goal is the same: whittle down the defenses, seize the head, defeat the enemy, save the world. It is only difference is a different world that needs saving.


I have reached the end of this page and must cut the remainder of my thoughts short. I will contemplate now whether to toss this into the fire or tuck it away in quiet hope that the pieces of this story will survive for it to be told.



Author Ari
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