FUCK.

FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FFFFFFFFFFF—-

*The journal, very often left empty, and when it is used generally has a few scraps of dirty jokes, anecdotes, or a job that went really well or really bad. Anything in Pandaren is written with a suprisingly flawless and delicate hand, artwork as only traditional calligraphy can be, but anything in Common (which is a fair amount of it) is written in the most horrible chicken scratch. Someone is lazy with their writing.

Ok, so, I don’t usually do this sort of thing, all that deep meaningful stuff is Petal’s jam, but FUCK. 

*There’s also a lot of swears. In a variety of languages. Kun’s idea of academic study is to carefully copy down and preserve whatever swears she can find and their translations.*

How the…what the. Yeah. Can you write that down? That works. Whatever. This is MY journal and I’ll write it however the fuck I want. So yeah. Something fucking scary happened. Not like, not like… the time when Big Horns and Jack and Abbet and I did job outside of Ogrimmarand nearly got caught, or even killing demons on Argus. This was like SOUL scary. Like worse, I think, then when Uncle had to have “a talk” with me about stealing from the dragon keeper’s lockbox. She was big and glowy and the weird thing is I think I’ve known her for a while and that’s what’s freaking me out. And pissing me off. Stupid gods, getting into your head, she’s not even pandaren…

But does that matter? I… dammit. All this shit hurts my head and I’m not even DRINKING.

So there was a thing. There’s been a thing for a while, ever since that sneaky Joi character forced me to help her out in Stormheim. I’ve kinda felt it, I guess, but never paid it much mind. Sis knew more about it then I did but got so worried about it… maybe I suppressed it so’s not to deal with Drama. Yuck. 

And then, on Argus…

It was almost kinda…good.

I felt powerful. Strong. Happy. Like whogiveafuckit kinda feeling. This was going to be *it* and for some weird, wonderful reason that was *awesome*. And then I saw *Her* and suddenly…I don’t… you see, this is the problem with words. You can’t DESCRIBE stuff. 

*What follows is a rather scribbled drawing. Not art, by any means, by charcoal dragged with a frustrated paw across the vellum in a somewhat abstract way. The style…isn’t pandaren, but roughly taken from the Vyrkul design, showing a great horned and winged figure surrounded by stylized light, and a small, small character in pandaren at her feet.*

Well whatever. That’ll do. That’s my feelings, right there. I’m scared shitless of Her but it’s kinda still good. The only thing that’s really freaking me out…

PALADIN. REALLY? FUCKING *REALLY*?!

That’s what I am now? A PALADIN. I’m a godsdamned PALADIN and what the hell am I supposed to do about *that*?!

Author Wallaroo
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