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Originally written November 29, 2011.

I write in the hours before dawn. The ground tremors continue, and remind me of the tremors that shook Azeroth before the Hammer unleashed elements on the capital cities. It is no surprise then to know that the Hammer is again responsible for deep movements within the earth.

 

Our position is defensible, but also a trap. Wintergarde is manned, but not the fortress it once was. War has not come to Northrend in over a year, the focus of its men has been chasing Scourge remnants, obtaining food, patching roofs, sweeping away dust. It is fitting that the end of Azeroth is again decided in Northrend, but it comes to a force that has not seen an enemy of this magnitude since Naxxramas. That is two years between now and an old memory of impending death.

 

We are shielded by the mountains north and south of us. The overrun town below gives the impression that Wintergarde is half-abandoned – truly, it still is. The Scourge are aimless but not numberless, they are plentiful, and still gnaw at the decayed town in the hills below. The necropolis husk that hovers above lends an even better cover. Wintergarde can perhaps go unnoticed in the beginning, until the forces within make themselves known. That will be our advantage.

 

The Templars wait for provisions. We came to Northrend following reports of cultist movement, but our time here has unveiled that it is more than a simple aggressive band, taking advantage of skeleton Alliance and Horde crews. That is what we first assumed. The tremors beneath the ice tell different, and for each cultist found and dealt with, we find two more. We assumed that we too would sweep away dust and watch the snow fall, but it seems we have stumbled across a war. I await the arrival of supplies from Theramore more suited to what awaits, I no longer send out local hunting parties and rely on scarce leftovers from a war longsince won.

 

The Marksman sent word of tremors near the temple of the dragons. He claimed that these tremors were beyond what is felt at Wintergarde, the tremors here are shivers in comparison. Jamus, who I have come to rely upon as our most veteran shaman, confirms the Marksman's report, but he cannot discern the reason for such movement. These confirmations make the Hammer's target more clear.

 

A war is coming to the dragons. I question whether I have led the Templars into an impossible trap, with Wintergarde pinned against the mountains and Wrymrest standing so near. It is a trap set for immortals, and it is difficult for a mortal to find purchase in such a war. The veterans among us know Northrend and know it well, but we came here one year ago to fight a traitor prince, not a civil war between dragons that now decides the fate of Azeroth.

 

We have been at the mercy of dragons for too long, this past year.

 

We will not be pawns, we will not be fodder. We will not be tossed between dragons and picked apart. The Templars have seen the Twilight Citadel, and delved into Blackrock Mountain. We are no strangers to what the Twilight's Hammer and Black Dragonblight bring to battle. We are displaced in this immortal's war, but it is still our war to fight. We will make it our own.

 

I will set aside this journal for some time, until battles are won and the Templars earn rest. When I write again, may it be when the end of all things is not so near.

 

For Azeroth.

Author Ari
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