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Cail snorted.

The loud noise of his own making awoke him with a jolt. He sat up abruptly and nearly fell out of his chair. Blinking the sleep away he peered around the silent tomb of the Conclave Vaults through blurry eyes. He had been in Northshire for several days conducting research.

Oh yes... research... Cail blinked down at the open book he had been using as a pillow. Glancing left then right, satisfied that he was alone and no one had seen him, Cail tucked a sleeve around his hand and wiped his spittle of the precious record, careful not to smear the ink. He then continued reading.

Respect.
Tenacity.
Power.

Three virtues. Two are shared in name by the Church of the Light and yet they are understood so differently. ...

Cail paused in thought. His head still clearing from his hour or two long power nap, he read the page again pausing at the same spot. Are they though? He shifted that book aside and read the page of another that was open beneath it.

The Three Tenants of the Church of the Light
An Examination of the Three Virtues.

It was a lengthy thesis which the old scholar with the gnome found to be rather redundant, but informative nonetheless. He glanced over the page again, as he had several times the night before just to be certain he hadn't missed something. He stopped and reasoned to himself.

Respect, held and taught by the church as a virtue of the Holy Light, acknowledges the need to be aware of oneself and their connection to the universe, but stresses the awareness of the connection of others to the same universe. By respecting the connection of others, the book calls it happiness, practitioners are serving the greater well-being of the universe as a whole and thereby serving themselves. An oversimplification perhaps but in a nutshell thats it.

Cail shifted over to a smaller, thinner book and read the page. He paused, thinking.

Respect, held and taught by this reviled Cult of Forgotten Shadow, essentially states the same thing, if only through a more self-centered prism. The universe is a manifestation of our collective power. By necessity some are more powerful than others, and disparaging the universe in any form is to disrespect the power of those around them. This is dangerous. Respecting the universe and therefore those around you offers a measure of protection as one goes about gradually increasing their own power. Again, oversimplified, but there it is.

The old gnome slumped back in his hard wooden chair. He noticed from the corner of his eye that morning's light was beginning to illuminate the room.

He lifted a hand to rub his eyes again but paused, staring at the thin layer of shadow that coated his person. The old doctor turned his hand back and forth looking at it with a refreshing wonder, then glance down the front of himself musing at how the shadow permeated everything he wore. At best it muted the colors of his robes and dulled the brilliance of his adornments, few though they may be.

To his flesh it gave a certain muddied brown-black-purple hue depending on the light. Most amusing was the way it colored his gray-white beard and hair, turning it a faint shade of purple most of the time. He had never been fond of the color, but it was growing on him. Cail smirked. In some ways quite literally.

The old gnome relaxed as best he could in his wooden armchair and steepled his fingers in front of his nose. I understand to a degree the trepidation that Genevra feels, though I admit to myself that I have not suffered her same trials. I can not afford to allow her personal bigotry, ... The old doctor paused, twisting the ends of his wild gray mustache.

No. Bigotry is too harsh. ...personal bias, benign or otherwise, ... Cail sighed. It was late, now early, and his mind was beginning to strain from the deprivation of sleep. All night study sessions were easier in his youth.

I can't allow it to taint my own conclusions. I can not fathom the reasons why the shadow, This Shadow, preserved me but it must be for a sound logical reason.

Cail idly turned the pages of the small thin book. The Cult of the Forgotten Shadow. Author unknown, yet so far it is the best source I can find on the matter of shadow. Cail gave a tired sigh. Scripted by a member of the Church of Light no doubt, its texts are far from impartial.

He closed the book and thoughtfully rubbed his sternum. If I am to take from its teachings, then I need to be gradually increasing my own power. Exerting my will within the universe. To do that, Cail pressed himself away from the table. ...I need more data.

Closing each of the books atop the table the old gnome, Doctor Cail Liam Mahlr'D, piled the useful tomes to one side clearing a space. He then returned to the long rows of shelved books within the Vaults of Conclave in search of more data.

The old doctor evaded sleep for two days.

Now it seemed that sleep was avoiding him, but that was just fine for now.

Sleepy eyes laden with dark puffy bags stared into the space between the cracks as he paced the stone floor of the Conclave Vaults.

Two days ago he was making headway on understanding this "Cult of Forgotten Shadow", and in part had even mentally drawn up plans to embark on another crusade into Forsaken Lands in search of "more data". It was a foolhardy notion, given the result of his last expedition, but he was fast reaching the end of his research material.

... or so he had thought.

The vaults were in complete disarray. When Genevra discovered the mess he had made she might well spill his blood on the spot, but that was a concern for another day. In a dark overlooked corner, hidden beneath a stack of nameless uninteresting historical tomes sat a book. The old doctor had made the mistake of thinking it just another dusty record, and so overlooked it. He did so several times.

On a tired hunch he pulled the stack from the bottom shelf and blew the dust away. One by one he carefully thumbed through each volume until he came to the last. It had an old binding. It was a rather thick book. Its cover worn and nameless. The old gnome could tell it had been rebound, and by appearance ages ago. It had no title page, no introduction, just a few strange blank pages. The first page of writing started mid sentence it seemed.

... and within this chronicle of dark secrets the dutiful practitioner of forbidden magics will...

Stop my Cogs... Cail re-read that first line a second and again a third time.

This chronicle of dark secrets... it just can't be. Incredulous of his purely by chance find, Cail heedlessly pushed back the pile of books on the long table at the center of the room, shoving a few off the other end onto the floor, and began his careful digestion of each page.

Now, two sleepless days later, the old doctor's mind was in a completely other realm. It all made sense, well... most of it made sense. It was rather academic. Had he not been so tired Cail would have felt silly and ashamed that he hadn't been able to grasp the concepts of magic before.

Experimentation.

The wonderfully brilliant tinker Sizzle had put that idea in his head earlier in the week. Her exuberant passion for all things robotic never failed to make him smile. Indeed what made the pink haired gnomette so attractive was her uncanny wit, unconventional wisdom, and warm spirit. In every conversation they had ever had Cail had always come away rather enlightened. What's more, she managed to lift him from his dark corners, if only for that day. But I digress...

Experimentation was the order of the day! But how? What? Exhausted as he was how could he conjure anything, let alone the strength to carry him to a pillow of books on a bed of more books. Still, he wouldn't sleep until he had accomplished something.

Reaching the end of the far wall he stopped his pacing, turned slowly, and focused upon the tall wooden chair he had been using. He held out both arms and flared his fingers.

Move. He willed.

Shatter. He commanded.

Nothing. ...was happening.

SIMS sat atop the table right at the corners' edge. His small mechanical squirrel head turned slowly in a wide arc like a tiny sentinel.

Large ocular sensors surveyed the room. The superlatively intelligent mechanical squirrel swapped rapidly through various visual sensor modes, some of which allowed him to peer through the thick stone structure of the vaults, into the dirt beyond, and upwards into the Northshire Abbey above for several meters more. No threat or danger was anticipated. It was simply a default operation while the small machine was at idle. Perhaps the product of its subconsciously paranoid programer.

Cail snored easily, asleep on the floor below atop a thin bed of books, a small stack used as a pillow. His dark hat placed lightly over his face to shield him from the light of the fading day. Sleep, it appeared, was finally the victor.

The old gnome snorted himself awake, mumbled, then drifted back into troubled dreams. For years the old gnome had been haunted by phantoms from his past so this was nothing new, but since the addition of the shadow variable his phantoms have gradually shifted. Some nights they were poltergeists.

Without realizing he was doing so, small shadows and apparitions sometimes come to life when he sleeps deeply enough. Nothing malignant. Not yet anyway. They've been noticed, cataloged and tracked by SIMS. His sophisticated neuro-network, powered by an equally sophisticated arcane core, allowed the small sentry process data at nearly a thousand times the rate of his older systems. Meaning he is learning and becoming self-aware enough to make his own decisions. For the moment these shadows were just that. Harmless.

Until they became an issue, SIMS decided that Cail didn't need to know. So he continued to just sit and watch.

... waiting.

Undetected, however, the very shadow shrouding its programer and creator had been constantly at work. A subtle corruption of its Arcane Core by Cail's Shadow was under way.
* * * * * * * * * *
[Edit] ((Tale began here: http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/11307960875))

The large Bristlewhisker Catfish glided gently down the easy flow of the stream, hugging the bottom.

As it passed the large fish passed inches over the top of other bottom feeding invertebrates. Before they could escape it swiftly opened its wide mouth causing an inescapable vacuum sucking the smaller creature inside. Such was the extent of this creature's existence.

With few predators in the higher pools and streams of the mountains above Northshire Valley, it wasn't uncommon to for this breed to grow larger than is typical, and this Catfish was no exception. At just under fourteen inches in length it was tipping the scales. Another season and soon it will start feeding on other smaller fish, such as the more juvenile Brilliant Smallfish and maybe even the smaller Mud Snappers that have the misfortune of venturing too deeply.

These streams and pools would soon be his world. An empire where his only challengers would be other Catfish. In such an environment he would reign supreme.

Gliding along lazily the acute sense of smell of the Bristlewhisker Catfish catches a familiar odor. Food. Easy pickings too. Twisting its long fourteen inch body the wide flat head shift for a better angle. It zeroes in on that location of that smell. An injured or dead fish, likely another Brilliant Smallfish about to become the next meal.

Ten feet off in the distance, just around a rock where the river current gently eddied. There it was. The smelly fish floundering in the swirling currents. Unsuspecting. It was all too perfect. Flexing its long powerful muscles the Catfish accelerated like a torpedo. Reaching its target in a mere instant the wide mouth opens. Great suction pulls the helpless Smallfish into its mouth.

The powerful jaws clamp shut.

All too easy.

Fishing had been scarce since the Blackrock Orc invaded Northshire.

Her streams once so tranquil were, to an angler worth his salt, full of life... or so the stories were told.

Theories abounded to the cause of the desolation of the stream's fish population. Perhaps ash from the charred smoldering vineyards to the east had something to do with it. Perhaps it was the mere presence of the fowl orc that defiled the waters. Perhaps it was both, or neither.

Cail considered himself an Angler and so naturally he had his suspicions. His keen gnomish intellect and diagnostically trained mind, honed from decades of being a talented physician, churned with all manner of possibilities ranging from the natural biological functions and temperament of invertebrates and the sensitivity of their habitats, to the artificial introduction of foreign elements; but when he got right down to it none of this was going to detract from a peaceful day of fishing.

- - - - - - - - - -

The fine adamantine twinned fishing filament line suddenly pulled taught. The force rapidly pulled more an more line into the gentle stream below making the reel whirle a shrill noise. It was the noise that awoke the old gnome from his gentle slumber streamside. It was a noise that never failed to get his blood pumping.

Snatching up his custom modified arcanite pole Cail leaped from his comfortable reclined fishing chair. Grasping it firmly in both hands he jerked sharply just right to set the hook, then pressed a small lever engaging the automatic line retrieval systems. With the gentle grace of a practiced professional the old gnome eased the aquatic creature closer to him. The beast on the other end pulled harder still, bending the pole lower but in the end and angler's patience won out.

Tired, the powerful beast hooked on the other end of the line relaxed. A fatal mistake. Thumbing the retrieval switch again sent the reel into overdrive and coupled with a powerful yank upward the large Bristlewhisker Catfish sailed out of the water.

Again with the grace of a well practiced angler, Cail gently guided the powerful fish onto the grass where he could grab a hold of it. He quickly estimated, hooking a thumb into the jaw and lifting it up.

It has to be fourteen inches, if not a smidge over. At least a pound and a half. Perhaps closer to two pounds. Oh this will make a fine meal indeed.

Excited, the old gnome swiftly dispatched the creature with a thrust of his razor sharp fillet knife, ensuring that it did not suffer much longer. He extracted the hook and placed his catch on a flat stool near the stream, ready to prepare the fish.

Over head a shadow grew.

Its long powerful frame circling tighter and tighter like a predator circling its prey. Brushing the tips of the nearby peaks the shadow turned sharply at an impossible angle and dove into the small grove behind Cail, twigs snapping, branches bending, landing with a heavy thud. Its long snout peered around a tree trunk followed by the almost demonic features of a dragons slender head.

Unlike any dragon native to these lands, its long thin body slinked easily through the air like a powerful serpent. Dark blue scales shimmered like polished armor covering the length of it. Dark golden course fur filled its heavy brow, connecting to a mane lining its jaw which in turn connected to a fuller long beard that flowed from its chin. Two long mustache stalks flowed from beneath each nostril like permanent tendrils of dark golden smoke.

A set of four horns, the two longest and thickest atop the other pair, jutted backwards from the ridge of its head like a wicked crown. Beneath the horns and thick furry brow two fierce eyes of a conditioned killer fixed on the small gnome that bent over the large fish.

The large serpents' wicked claws hovered just off the ground. With a few coiled thrusts the dragon slithered through the air, making not a sound. It circled its body around arching behind the old gnome and like a deadly massive cobra snake from the deserts of Uldum the Azure Dragon Serpent poised to strike!

- - - - - - - - - -

Cail turned sharply, facing the ominous beast. He held up a scale covered hand and scowled.

"No. You're not going to get this one." He said in a reprimanding tone.

The fearsome beast melted into a coil and cooed softly at the little gnome. Aside from his natural fearsome visage, the large dragon appeared as docile as a child just out looking for a little fun.

"I gave you my last two catfish today, one of which was the largest I'd caught yet. Not to mention the other assorted Smallfish and frogs. I think its about time I had a taste. Don't you?"

He leaned forward, raising a challenging eyebrow. The gesture not lost on the large dragon serpent. It tilted its long thin head to one side like a wounded child averting his gaze.

"Mmh. Yes." Cail responded. "Just as I thought."

Cail turned back at the catfish, partially gutted and ready to be filleted. He let out a long sigh, imagining all he had planned to do with it. The seasoning. The dishes. The drying and salting to preserve the left overs for another day's snack.

"Oh well," He sighed. "I suppose I can always catch another one."

The old gnome snatched up the fish by the tail and flung it up into the air. With a youthful exuberance the dragon serpent sprang from its coil and snatched the fish from the air. It sailed down the stream, turned on a pin and flowed back to the gnome looking like a long streamer in the wind. It cooed and rolled a sound of joy and gratitude.

Cail laughed aloud as it circled him, nuzzling the little old gnome. It dipped its long narrow snout and Cail wrapped his arms over and around its head as far as he could reach. He lovingly stroked and patted the beast.

Turning to gather his things and snuff the fire, Cail called out when he was finished. "Alright Zhenqui. Yip! Yip!"

At that the long Azure Cloud Serpent slithered into the air, drifting into an intricate knot, and shot down along side the old gnome. Cail grasped hold of the cloud serpents thick mane and used the momentum to leap astride the beasts' powerful shoulders. He wiggled until he found his seating, the serpent gently gliding in a circle until he was situated.

"Back to the Abbey, Zhen. If you please."

Answering the polite request of a dear friend, the azure cloud serpent flew high and fast, curling into a tight ball and shooting high into the sky over Northshire Valley. The joyful cries of an old gnome fading into the distance.

The mechanical squirrel perched atop the back of a heavy wooden chair. Upright on its hind legs, the quirky machine kept a silent vigil over the quiet room.

Across the long table sat the old gnome, weary from his seemingly endless research. His efforts to find understanding of the light and shadow magics, and thus gain that first grip he so desperately needed to launch him out of the theoretical and into the practical applications phase... some called it practice or 'training'... had all but failed him.

Starting deep within Conclave Vaults seemed like such a good idea at the time, and for the most part it had been. On occasion he would step out into the abbey's libraries proper to compare works, only to be inundated with all manner or religious texts. The few, more scientific, volumes among them did little to inspire.

Over the weeks he plowed through book after book, creating stacks on the table which soon migrated to the floor. They spawned more stacks which soon became piles. The Conclave Acolytes that normally tended to the care and neatness of the vaults began to complain and avoid their normal duties. The mess this single harmless appearing old gnome generated was spinning out of control.

In a tired fit Cail tilted his wooden chair backward so that it rested atop a few stacks of books against the wall behind him. He slipped his feet out of his boots and kicked them up onto the table, wiggling his toes. Hat tipped far forward, the old gnome began to snooze.

!BWOOOP!
!BWOOOP!
!BWOOOP!

The blaring noise of Sims' alarm startled Cail right out of his seat. The old gnome cried out clutching his chest as he tumbled head over heals to the floor. Books piles precariously at the tables edge crashed down over him.

!BWOOOP!
!BWOOOP!
!BWOOOP!

Cail laid on the cold stone floor for a moment, clutching his chest. His heart was racing. A sharp pain reminded him first of his delicate condition, and then of the shadow that had claimed his body as host. A rather symbiotic relationship for the moment, Cail had surmised. It was the only thing keeping his heart from failing at the moment. What possible benefit this shadow could be gaining from him, the old gnome could only wonder.

!BWOOOP!
!BWOOOP!
!BWOOOP!

Taking a deep breath, seeking his calm, he called out to Sims. "Enough Sims!" The alarm ceased. Cail's hearing was impaired slightly. He flexed his jaw a little to try and make his ears pop, but the hollow sound persisted. It was like hearing distant sounds down a long tube.

The old gnome pulled the books off of him and cleared a space for him to stand. As his eyes cleared the edge of the table a familiar figure stood on the other side. Genevra Stoneheardt, Matron of Conclave, had entered the vaults with a few acolytes in tow, which was the cause for Sims' alarm.

Cail smiled and was about to extend and his customary friendly welcome, but he could see something was off. He nonetheless smiled brightly at his long-time friend. She immediately opened into a tirade, scolding the old gnome for the mess he had been making. Cail had always found Genevra's tirades mild at best in comparison, but she was nevertheless agitated. The old gnome could see however that he wasn't the cause. Something else was eating at her. What, exactly, he couldn't tell.

The old gnome remained silent, nodding his head and agreeing with her. He spoke sincerely. "I fully understand, Genevra. I will dedicate my time, however long it takes, to put back into order that which I have disturbed. It is the least I can do, after all." His thick gray mustache curled with his wide squinty grin.

Genevra nodded, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Thank you Cail. I will leave these two..."

"No no..." Cail protested. "I made this mess and I will clean it up. If I absolutely need a hand then I can always grab somebody. Besides, I'm sure you can use their help elsewhere. Certainly not cleaning up after me." The Matron of Conclave nodded, giving a slight smile, then departed.

Cail exhaled, picking up his hat.

Sims slowly rotated his head around and the two gazed at each other, as if asking the same question. Cail shrugged. "I have no idea what's been going on. I've been buried myself in these vaults for far too long, and have missed several of her sermons."

He set his hat on the chair and bent picking up a few books to stack on the table. "For as much as she earnestly tries to help other she sure has a knack for attracting opposition." The mechanical squirrel replied and series of beeps and mixed tones. Cail shook his head.

"I don't understand it much either, Sims. I guess that is just the way it is when people go out of their way to help others." He shoved a small stack of books onto the table and bend for more.

"I was rather fortunate. As a Field Medic and Surgeon people came to me only when they needed help, and as a Doctor with a General Practice I usually only offered when I could see help was needed." He pushed another small stack of books onto the table.

"I never really acquired contrarians and enemies the way she does." He bend to pick up a few more books. Sims replied with several alternating tones.

"Another reason for me to steer clear of all this religious mumbo-jumbo." He tossed a book atop a small pile. "I have accomplished as much if not more good than most with my own two hands and wit without claiming any sort of ethereal inspiration or gifts." Sims intonated a reply.

"Oh, I'm not saying one doesn't exist... " The old gnome paused. His face scrunched with irritation. "Oh, don't bait me into another theological dispute with you." Sim's beeped. "...or philosophical! I have enough on my plate as it is without wasting time with..."

Cail held a book in hand, gesturing wildly with it. The innards of the book slipped, interrupting his thought. The binding loosened and the covers separated. He juggled a moment to catch the book before it completely fell apart.

Safely in hand he examined it carefully.

"Absent Truth", Cail read its title page.

"Author unknown."

This particular book had passed his hands several times already, each time reading or skimming through it cover to cover. It was one of the few oddly heretical texts that was kept on a distant corner shelf. There was nothing remarkable about its contents, at least nothing pertaining to his current field of research, so each time the old gnome cast it to the side.

Now however something was different.

Hidden within the binding of the covers were a few thin pages. Strange, Cail thought. Why on earth would someone hide something in ...

He carefully separated the binding more and pulled the pages free. He read:

My esteemed colleagues. These past few years I have spent studying the Light and its mechanisms within the world around us. I am aware my letters may be construed as heresy by some, but I ask simply that each read my work with an open mind.

What is the Light?

Cail's heart stopped... figuratively speaking. He read the opening lines again. This can not be. He thought.

Astounded, mouth agape, he continued to read. At the end of the page he flipped it over and kept reading on the second. Again he flipped to the third and final page. When the old gnome had finished he took his seat.

He immediately vaulted to his feet, cursing in gnomish, as he had just sat on his own hat. He pulled it up and smoothed out the dents and creases, but his mind immediately drifted elsewhere.

This is exactly what I have been... It makes so much sense. Could it be so simple? Photons. Neutrons. Electrons. Gigatrons. Radiant particle waves of energy.

His mind raced with wondrous complexity of it all. This unnamed bishop dared to compare and define Light Magic in terms of theoretical physics!

Gazing at the papers laying now atop the table, he wondered if Genevra knew of them. He wondered if he should even mention them to her, but then dispelled the silly notion. "All knowledge is sacred, after all."

No reason to be selfish with it. Besides...

Looking over the three pages once more it became clear that their knowledge was incomplete. The way the third page ended it seemed that the author might carry on. Cail wondered if he had attempted to define other sources of magic in the same manner. Perhaps even shadow magic. He drew in a deep calming breath.

"I can only hope, but best not to get ones hopes up." Sims beeped a query. Cail glanced up. "Oh! Something you may find interesting." He slid the pages over to his mechanical companion. "Scan these to memory. I may need to recall them at some point."

The dim blue eyes of the mechanical squirrel illuminated bright blue. Two beams of light focused into a thin line which quickly scanned over each page. Cail carefully replaced the pages into the binding of the book, then placed it deliberately within a small stack. Carrying that stack to the proper shelf he shoved the books home, then made a mental note of where it lay. "Genevra may find this interesting."

And so the old gnome continued in the same manner, collecting and organizing small stacks of books, then placing them in groups upon the selves in turn. All the while his mind lost on the contents of those three pages.

Cail was familiar with the terms and broad concepts used in the comparison, yet he was no physicist. He would need to find another gnome to help him delve deeper. Preferably a well studied physicist.

A tiny apparatus within the small oculus surrounded each eye. Expanding and contracting, each apparatus maneuvered a mechanical eye, the pair focusing on the subject standing before them. Within each eye a tiny complex system of lenses zoomed in and out, bringing the subject further into clear focus.

S.I.M.S. sat up on his hind legs near the middle of the table facing Cail, bringing him into focus. The old gnome glared at the small machine incredulously.

"Are you certain this will work? You can really record my image and voice, and then play it back again at another time?" S.I.M.S. beeped a confirmation. Cail stood back and smiled. "Brilliant. Truly a wonder. I had no idea the one that rebuilt you was so talented."

S.I.M.S. beeped and chirped. "Oh? You're recording now? Oh my..." Cail licked the palm of each hand and smoothed down his wild head of gray hair. He repeated the process with his beard. "How do I look?"

In truth his efforts were less than effective as it seemed his wild mop and frizzy beard had a mind of their own. S.I.M.S. chirped something positive that made Cail grin.

The old gnome cleared his throat. "Very well."

"Doctor Cail Liam Mahlr'D." The old gnome introduced himself as a professor addressing his students, mumbling as he shifted papers on the table before him. "This the twenty-seventh day of the fifth month... ah, here it is." Cail awkwardly held up a book.

"Can you get this here Sims? The cover here." S.I.M.S. chirped in the background. "Ah good. Good. Ah, well for the past month or so I, uh, I have sequestered myself deep within these vaults of Conclave. I have searched through nearly every book on the shelf, " Cail grinned at the remembering.

"And I even made quite a mess of the place. Books stacked everywhere. It was quite the sight." He smoothed down his beard and became serious.

"In my research I have discovered several references on Shadow Magic, but nothing quite as..." His hands worked in the air, trying to find the work. "... as encompassing as I would like. This subsequent lack of data has driven me back to an option... which, um, I find less than desirable."

"You see, several months back... oh, I suppose it must be nearly a year now, I embarked on a personal quest." Cail rubbed his forehead with one hand. "That is to say, I felt that to better understand this Holy Light, Magic, mumbo-jumbo, I needed to get a hold of older texts. Something that hadn't been recopied or abridged. All too often I have found that to be the case... " Cail paused in thought.

After a moment he glanced into the recording and waved a dismissive hand.

"But I digress. I wanted to travel back ho.. uhm, back to my... that is, back to Lordaeron. There within that heart of darkness is the old Monastery situated within the hills. I understand much has taken place there, what I am uncertain, but I was confident that somewhere within their vast old libraries they would hold the key I needed."

Cail sat back heavily on the seat behind him. S.I.M.S. adjusted his view to keep him in frame. The old gnome sighed heavily. "Alas. It wasn't to be."

He gazed off into the void, as it were, as he spoke. "In route I was intercepted. What followed was... is... difficult to recount. But never mind that." He grinned. "My situation has changed and I have discovered new evidence that I believe will help me finally understand."

Cail sifted through some papers on the table. “My first order of business is to establish contact with the one who rebuilt Sims. A one...” He pulled out a monocle and read. “N.H. Dibik Darkwrench. A fellow gnome and engineer. With luck he can help me better decipher these mysterious pages I recently found.”

Cail tucked his monocle away, trading it for his favorite pipe in hand. “I suppose that is all for now.” S.I.M.S. Chirped in the background. “Ah yes! Thank you Sims.” Cail looked seriously into the recording.

“This is the first entry of what I intend to be my personal journal, of sorts. A way for me to document my discoveries as they happen, and to leave a more comprehensive living record of myself.”

The old gnome nodded to the recording. “Thank you Sims. That will do for now.”

With his first recording ended, Cail sat back in his seat. Smoothing his beard down he thought about what he had left unsaid; that if anything should happen to him in his journey this time S.I.M.S. was directed to return to Conclave immediately and report. That is, of course, if the little machine survives whatever encounter may come.

His mind turned to the mechanic, N.H. Dibik Darkwrench. He made a mental note to discuss with him all of the intricate upgrades he had made to S.I.M.S. Visual recordings wasn't anything new, but that he was able to fit it into such a small device as S.I.M.S. made Cail wonder what other capabilities the little mechanical squirrel possessed.

It never ceased to amaze him.

Two cities and kingdoms could be separated by so many miles of high mountains and treacherous sprawling lands and yet be so closely connected by a wonderously simple underground Tram. A dangerous trek the might as well have taken him days was cut to a mere fraction of the time.

Stepping onto the Tram platform of Ironforge Cail marveled at how he still felt as if he had only just left Stormwind behind. Following the flow of foot traffic the old gnome couldn't help but pause a moment as he stepped out of the twisting tube. He drew in a deep breath and gazed around Tinker Town.

The explosive smell of sulfur lingered in the background, faintly mixed with the odor of gear grease, motor oils, and engine fuels. To Cail the place had always smelt of a factory than an actual proper "town", but then again to most gnomes that was a proper town.

The noise of spinning turbines, clanking cogs, belted pulleys and grinding gears all muddled into a faint drone of background noise. The old gnome drew in another deep breath and smiled to himself. He was home again.

In the distance a loud squeal grabbed his attention. The flow of pedestrians thinned and soon the old gnome found himself being assaulted by a very young bright eyed gnome in a pointy hat.

She bounced a moment biting the knuckles of her clenched fists. Then she snatched up Cail's hand and shook it aggressively. "Doctor Mahlr'D!" Was the only intelligible sentence she uttered. What followed came so fast that it all ran together. The old gnome could only make out a few cluster of words here and there.

"I'msoexcitedtofinallymeetyou! Yourworkonthefunctionalcomparisonof humangnomedwarf biologicalsystems was inspiring! HadInotalreadydedicatedmyselftothestudy andadvancementoftheArcaneArtsIwouldhavegladlyentered the medical field andstudiedmicrobiologicalsystems!"

Cail blinked at her. He politely pulled his hand from her grip and massaged his shoulder. "Oh... uh, its good to meet a young... and... and exuberant mind. Such as yourself." Cail awkwardly grinned. "Have we met before?"

"No." The young gnome smile twinkled. Cail shifted awkwardly.

"Oh, well.. your energy seems very familiar." The young gnome looked as if she were to begin another incomprehensible tirade and so Cail quickly changed the subject, cutting her off. "I am suppose to meet someone by the name of Dibik Darkwrench..."

The young gnome gasped suddenly, cutting Cail short. She tightly grasped his arm, interlocking it with her own. "I'msosorry,IwassoexcitedtofinallymeetyouthatIcompletelyforgot!"

"Let me take you to him." She smiled over at Cail, and he nodded.

"Everyone calls me Tink, by the way."

//expedite.B2C.infrastructures 4r84 ...
::matrix 2.4/365- web ready; [11010100.243-e] ...
//engage_interactive_networks ...
......
start.record: 2_6.6.11:45

Cail stood to one side of the street, his wide brimmed hat tipped backward slightly. "Like this? Can you see my face better with the hat like this?"

S.I.M.S. mechanically chirped a confirmation in the background.

"Ah. Good-good." He took a deep breath, ready to begin but suddenly paused. "Is this... are you.. you are recording correct?" S.I.M.S. beeped an annoyed tone. Cail replied in kind, his face scrunching into a temporary scowl. "Well its hard to tell sometimes. I need a little red light or something to tell me when you're recording."

A sudden flash of pale blue light almost completely washed the old gnomes' image. Cail glared at the mechanical squirrel behind the picture as the bright light flashed three more times, clearly unimpressed. "Very funny."

He cleared his throat before beginning a new. "Doctor Cail Liam Mahlr'D on this the sixth day of the sixth month. Summer is underway here in Thelsamar. As you can see the sun is high and hot yet I still find it very agreeable."

He gestured to his left. "I am standing out in front of The Gnomerian. A repair workshop recently established here in Thelsamar. Sims has attached proper coordinates to this record but for visual purposes I'll have him pan a little up and down the street."

Cail stood quietly in frame for a moment. S.I.M.S. intonated a question in the background. Annoyed, Cail gestured with his hands. "Yes, yes. Right now."

The image tilted and panned to the left revealing a wide dirt and cobblestone road. Large green hills rolled on the other side of the street, shaded mostly by large thick trees. As the other end of the street came into picture a line of simple stone buildings blurred into focus. The building faces were of the typical dwarven style each appearing to disappear into the hill side. The street bent sharply to the right and disappeared around the corner. The picture stayed for a moment. Cail cleared his throat in the background and the picture blurred at the camera turned back to him.

"Very good Sims. Thank you." The old gnome took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow before continuing.

"These past few days I have been conversing with The Gnomerian's owner and proprietor N. H. Dibik Darkwrench. Nixim, as he prefers to be called, has analyzed the contents of those three pages I had mentioned. Along with his young beautiful an exceedingly enthusiastic assistant they call Tink, we have applied their understanding to my research. Some very exciting and interesting results have come of it all."

The old gnome held his arms out to his sides. "Sims, could you get a full body shot please? .... you have been? Oh, very good. Well as you can see, I no longer appear to be cloaked in thick shadow, nor am I apparently muted by its thin layer!" Cail chuckled to himself. "A very desirable result, I must say. I am delighted."

He cleared his throat again, drawing serious. "However, this is only a half measure. On a much closer inspection the aura is still present and can be seen as I pass in and out of shadowy areas. It appears that this cloak of shadow has merely shifted its resonant frequency outside of our visual range. It required a great deal of concentration during the application phase of our work these past few days, once understanding of theoretical methodology had been established."

Cail placed his hands on his hips with a tired sigh. "I would certainly call this a success given that it had been derived in part from this person's discourse on Light Magic. If only we had his work on Shadow Magics... more could have been done." His bearded face drew together in careful thought. The old gnome idly tugged on his chin hairs.

"The which brings me back to my original desire. A most certainly dangerous trip into Lordaeron." His eyebrow lifted as he gazed at some point off camera. "My aim has shifted to some degree. Because of this I have replotted my course of travel and with the aid of my new found friends here in Thelsamar, I have obtained a much safer and dare I say more sophisticated method of travel."

Cail motioned at S.I.M.S. "Come come. Over here so you can get a better view."

The image rocked and blurred as the mechanical squirrel leaped down from his perch and scurried up into the hands of the old gnome, who lifted his little friend to his shoulder. The image blurred and rocked with movement. "There. Can you get it all in picture from my shoulder?"

Coming into focus is the image of a large and rather typical looking gnomish gyrocopter. It sat next to the building yet still occupied about half of the street. "Isn't she pretty?" The old gnome sounded rather proud in the background.

A middle aged balding gnome with a brown hair ringing his head stepped out of the main door to his workshop, near the tail end of the gyrocopter. "Dr. Mahlr'D!" He called out, his back to the camera while he pulled the door shut and worked the locking mechanism.

"Yes Master Dibik! What can I do for you?"

The brown haired gnome turned. The thick mustache below his nose framed each side of his mouth as it fell at a sharp angle to his jaw line. The thick line of hair continued along his jaw and climbed up each side of his face connecting with thick bushy sideburns. The framed mustache accentuated most of his facial expressions. Upon seeing Cail his grin grew wide.

"What is this? Admiring my handy work?"

The image bobbed slightly. "Yes! Fine work it is too! I was just recording an entry before heading out."

"Ah yes. Very good." Nixim stepped around to the front of the gyrocopter. "Is he recording now?" The image bobbed as S.I.M.S. nodded his head.

"Indeed. Would you care to elaborate on your creation behind you?"

Nixim turned placing a gentle hand on the gyrocopter. "This old thing?" He grinned. "You should still recognize it my good doctor. It is after all your gyrocopter." He patted the nose.

"Yes yes, but for the record tell us what was wrong and what you've done with it."

Nixim scratched his jaw. "Well, when the AAMS delivered it some months ago I was surprised. I typically don't find such an old model as this in as good a condition. It still had most of its original factory parts. You certainly are a capable mechanic Doc to have kept it up and running cleanly for so long."

"Yes, thank you! It is practically an heirloom." The two gnomes chuckled before Nixim continued.

"I spent some time with its careful disassembly and found a number of things wrong. Bushings had been shot. Seals were dry and cracked. The timing was off. Lines, belts, hoses all needed to be replaced and the hydraulics reworked. Once I got the engine put back into operating standard I started thinking. Then I started tinkering. Long story short I completely rebuild your engine from the ground up, so to speak. I reworked the ignition systems. Replaced the power plant and drive assembly with a more modern system, and then of course modified it with some custom ideas of my own."

He moved into the street beside one of the large engines. "These twin turbine engines still had some power left, but I thought since I was in the groove I might as well tinker with these. With some custom fittings they now triple to output while minimizing intake with will allow you to hover in tight places without fear of a stall. It also increases the overall thrust allowing you to both lift heavier items and attain slightly faster airspeeds while flight is engaged. I also improved your rotar system. As it is it should cut more air providing more lift, and blah blah blah..." Nixim motioned with his hands.

"The point being this little baby will lift more, loiter longer, stall less, and go much farther and faster between refuels." He stepped back and looked at the machine with admiration. "Yes indeed she is pretty Doc. Let me know if you should ever need any combat fittings. I have a few exciting ideas for armaments. "
Cail chuckled in the background. "Yes, well thank you Nixim but I don't think I'll have a need for those just yet."

Nixim peered over his shoulder at Cail behind the camera. "Where you're planning on going? I wouldn't think twice about it. That's a crazy thing Doc, wanting to go back there and poke around."

"Oh I'm well aware of it. I'm counting on your improvements to help me avoid conflicts as much as possible. Not create them."

Nixim shrugged. "Well, sometimes you can't help it. Trouble just has a way of finding you, if it wants too." He turned fully and approached Cail, getting closer to the camera. "At any rate, I need to be going. I have errands to run." Behind the scenes he shook Cail's hand and slapped him on the shoulder. The image rocked with this motion. "Travel well Doc and stay in touch. I also replaced your communications array with a state of the art system complete with satellite interface, so don't be shy about bouncing a few message our way now and then."

The image panned and followed Nixim around the corner of the building. "I won't forget. Satellite uplink?"

"Yep! Its all in that manual I left in your glove box." Nixim spoke over his shoulder as he approached his X-53 rocket. "Take your time combing through it and beep me on the comm if you have a question. Also, read the section on Distress Alerts. Its a simple function to engage, just in case something should happen to you or the machine."

"Perish the thought."

Nixim climbed onto the rocket, which appeared to be undergoing some customizations of its own as a few of its panels had been removed. "I also took the liberty of linking Sims into the same network. Its still rather small so where you're going access will likely be limited if not completely unavailable, but he also has satellite uplink capabilities in case of an emergency."

"Very good. I don't quite follow you on this satellite business, but I'll comb through your manual."

"Its all in there Doc. Its all still rather finge technology, so it doesn't always function as intended. Just be patient with it." Nixim's engines roared to life. He placed on a pair of gloves, goggles, and a helmet. He gave a wave to Cail and with a cry from the rocket engines thrusted up into the air and disappeared behind the trees. The noise of his engines faded into the distance.

The image rocked and blurred. S.I.M.S. shifted from Cail's shoulder into the palm of his hand. The old gnome held the mechanical squirrel out at arms length and pointed the camera back at himself. The image shifted until finally he came into focus.

"Final note. I have also attached a basic flight plan to this recording. Should anything happen to me Sims will relay all of this information to appropriate outlets, hopefully facilitating in my rescue. But lets hope it doesn't ever come to that."

The image blurred as Cail lowered his arm. He spoke in the background. "Go ahead and end the reco..."

[enable] com.pell_e-servers:launch:info.me.diaries;
[disable.visualize] mmpkd5jo.dot-com;
::redefine end-to-end matix:vortals:go[,w-5M{cre~HKYrF2}]
...
start.record: 3_6.8.13:55 [audio only]

In the background the droning noise of powerful engines mixed with rushing wind threatening to drown out the old gnomes' voice. Cail shouted.

This new gyrocopter is a wonder! Remind me to properly thank Tinker Dibik for his work.
At this altitude I have activated an auto-pilot. Just to be safe I have Sims monitoring our heading.
For I think the first time in my life I can now truly appreciate the beauty of the world beneath.

Truly astounding how far technology has advanced in my time.

This autopilot has also afforded time to let the mind wander. Old habits are hard to break it seems, as I've begun to ruminate upon the physiological effects of this Shadow Magic, or rather Shadow Energy, that currently resides within me.

In my studies several books have offered the observation that this shadow... energy...
I much prefer to avoid the use of the term 'magic' as much as possible. I feel it lends an unrealistic quality to what I am experiencing.
So this energy seems to promote darker, more negative emotions.

Prior to the incident surrounding my near fatal coronary event, I indeed felt the presence of a darkness. At the time I attributed this sensation to a bout of depression, as had become rather common for me in these latter years. Decades really... but after my incident, and the research it spurred me into, in retrospect I now think it is possible that this shadow energy had been permeating my being for some time.

- a long pause -

Strangely I sometimes feel... or rather... wonder if this energy isn't sentient. It feels, in part, as if it is acting upon its own volition. I can't begin to guess it's purpose, but it makes me wonder. It is also possible that it is merely an unintelligent force that is reacting to a yet unknown set of circumstances which I have been and am currently perpetuating. Only time, and more data, will tell... I suppose.

Still. Since my incident I have noted a propensity to shadowy and dark places. The sun pains my eyes at times, but that could easily be due to my sequestering indoors of late. Nothing more.

I feel... moody, I suppose. Withdrawn. Unsociable. Well, more so than usual I think. I haven't felt any affect toward the more violent emotions such as anger or frustration, only morose and apathy. Clinically speaking suicidal thoughts and feelings are to be expected, but I have not felt a notable increase towards that inclination. Not of late, at least.

It seems diminishing the shroud's visibility around me has done little to improve my overall mental and emotional state. I will remain ever mindful of these effects, and will continue to catalogue my observations as inspiration dictates.

After several hours of flight the old gnome reached Refuge Pointe.

Finding a spot to land safely Cail guided his flying machine into the outpost and maneuvered it into a comfortable nook behind the smithy. He disembarked and stretched, admiring what little had changed since last he'd passed through these hinterlands. He removed his bedding and canvas coverings for his machine, which he would place once the engines had cooled, and made preparations for a small-personal campsite.

With daylight to spare the old gnome casually meandered about the outpost, striking up idle conversation here and there, and even eavesdropping on the guards idle chatter. Just long enough to get an idea of current concerns. Most were busy about their business, but a few paused long enough for him to inquire about the region.

Making his rounds once, picking up supplies from Vikki's General Goods and effecting a few simple trades with Hammon for a new fillet knife for fishing, Cail settled down near the forges of Jannos Ironwill. He struck up a conversation with the dwarf as he took a break from his labors.

Cail inquired of the dwarven fort, Dun Garok. He recalled to Jannos about receiving letters from a few close friends who had been stationed there, until one day the letters stopped. All he could discover through hearsay was that the fort had fallen. Jannos bitterly recalled his own account of those days.

The dwarf never clearly stated if he had or hadn't been involved in the fighting, but he spoke passionately about what had happened nonetheless. Cail couldn't find a reason not to believe him. The dwarves of Dun Garok fought heroically along side the denizens of Hillsbrad, helping them protect their lands against the undead scourge. Against those calling themselves Forsaken.

Jannos spat. "Forsaken indeed."

Cail offered the dwarf another simple pulled pork sammich. The last of his reserves. Jannos gratefully accepted and took a giant bite. Cail frowned at remembering. "I was in Ironforge at the time. Communication could be so slow sometimes that we'd receive letters long after they were written. Long after we were suppose to receive them. It makes more sense now as to why."

"Aye," Jannos spoke between chews. "Ich... cahn be... diffugh-cult... [swallow]... to send word while fight'n for yer life against the foul creatures." Cail nodded. "I can imagine." Jannos corrected him in stern dwarf fashion. "No lad. Yeh can't."

The old gnome didn't disagree.

The two passed a moment of silence, respectfully remembering those who had been lost. Cail finally broke the silence. "How far have the Forsaken gained ground then?"

"All the way to the wall." Jannos spat. "Filthy things. Ol' Drovnar thinks it won't be long before that green pristine forest will be rotting with decay. An' I don't doubt him."

Cail looked down at the small mug of brew in his hand, swirling its contents. He muttered. "Everything they touch tends to die. Or worse..." The old gnome tossed back the rest of his brew and made for his flying machine. Jannos asked, catching him as he left, "Plan on traveling further north?"

Cail turned and nodded. Jannos Ironwill offered a last bit of advice. "By road or by air, do yerself a favor an' avoid Hillsbrad. Give tha'damned wall a wide birth. Take the road into the Hinterlands and seek out Aerie Peak." Cail gave one final nod and retreated to his small campsite beside his gyrocopter.

In the failing light of dusk the old gnome poured over his maps, plotting a new course over the mountains to Aerie Peak. He stared for a long moment at the location of Dun Garok on his map. The lost fort. Curiosity tempted him to pay a quick visit. If only to pay a bit of respect to my fallen friends, he thought.

... fallen family.

Thinking better to leave it till the morning, he packed his maps away and turned in for the night.

Morning came quickly it seemed as Cail rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He set about lethargically gathering his items to his aircraft and breaking camp. Around him Refuge Pointe was just beginning to stir.

His task complete, the old gnome hoisted himself up into the pilot's seat. S.I.M.S. scurried up in his lap and watched the gnome prepare the craft for flight. The small machine beeped a question at the gnome. "Yes yes, Sims. I'm qwhiiighd..." Cail fought to stifle a hard yawn. She exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I'm quite fine to fly old friend."

[Fly check success]

The twin turbines spun to life. Cail rotated them, checking his controls. Satisfied he increased the throttle. As the craft inched away from the earth an electrical sequence automatically popped up the arm and extended the tri-blade rotor above them. The main engine roared, spinning the rotor into a hard rhythmic flutter. Each blade chopped through the air supplying the craft its main lift. In moments the craft had reached an appropriate altitude. Cail pulled on a leather cap and goggles, then leaned the flight stick forward. The twin turbine engines rotated forward and the craft was off.

Far in the distance Cail could see the mound that marked Dun Garok's location. He eased the nose of the craft in its direction. He checked his compass. Almost directly west of his location. He would make it there in short order.

As he passed over the highlands he peered down at them. He passed over the ogre mound, Bouldergor, and was thankful to be flying as several of the ogre below halted to gaze up at the craft passing over head. Cail breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was far to high for them to do anything. All they could do was watch him pass.

Soon the craft neared Thoradin's Wall. Cail spotted the dark patch near the wall's main gate. A forsaken outpost. That's new. He marveled. Jannos the smithy had told him about it, but seeing the place in person gave him a totally new perspective, and appreciation. Again, he silently thanked his gnome friend Nixim for the craft.

[Travel check success]

Cail eased back on the stick as the craft passed over the small mountain. Rounding the other side of the mountain, and Thoradin's Wall, the face of the old dwarven fort came into view. It was a sight he hadn't seen in quite some time and it brought a bitter sweet grin. The engines sputtered as he eased the craft into a high altitude hover to spot an appropriate landing area. Some place not to close, wary of the rumors spread about it being haunted. Cail grasped the stick with both hands, fighting to keep it steady.

"Easy now. Easy does it. Don't you quit on me now."

The sputter passed the craft leveled off. It descended with incredible ease and the old gnome gently touched the earth once more. As the engine wound down to an appropriate idle, the rotor over head disengaged from the main engine, slowing its rotation. It soon folded itself up and retracted.

"Sims, do us a favor and lock these controls. I'm going to leave it idle. I don't plan on staying long."

The little mechanical squirrel beeped and turned off the control panel, its lights and screen displays dimming. The pair made their way within a respectful distance of the fort on foot and stopped. Cail stood a moment and admired the view. He took his leather flight cap and goggles off, holding them to his chest, and bowed his head of unruly gray hair.

After a long moment of reverent reflection, the old gnome pulled the leather flight cap and goggles back on. "Lets go Sims."

[Incident check failure]
[Fly check success]

Back aboard the craft, S.I.M.S. engaged the control panel. The turbines roared, the rotor engaged, and the crafted left the earth climbing to an appropriate altitude. Hovering he checked his instrument panel. "Sims, can you bring up the inflight mapping?"

A small holographic three dimensional image of the surrounding terrain appeared within the peripheral view of his goggle lense. Cail smiled, inwardly marveling at the ingenious creativity of his friend, Nixim. The leather cap and goggles were a complete communications system complete with a small sensitive microphone and outer ear speaker. It connected seamlessly, as far as he could tell, with S.I.M.S.'s rather unique arcane powered neural network.

The which was the extent of his personal knowledge. The technology itself seeming rather experimental and advanced. Cail chuckled to himself. Surprisingly enough, I have yet to run into a hiccup! The old gnome cycled through map images until he came upon the latest version of Hillsbrad. "Alrighty. Sims, lets test out this autopiloting system, shall we?" S.I.M.S. beeped a reply.

"Set a course to Aerie Peak in the Hinterlands." S.I.M.S beeped.

"Yes yes! I know this is the map for Hillsbrad!" Cail grumbled. "Find the map for Hinterlands and plot the path accordingly! Do I have to do the thinking for you?" S.I.M.S. groaned a few low insulting tones.

In moments the maps were displayed on the control panel screens, overlayed, and a course mapped. Cail nodded sharply. "Good. That's good. Now, maintain this comparable altitude, but feel free to skim around the mountain peaks" S.I.M.S beeped.

"What's that suppose to mean?! Why... I... " Cail huffed. "Just keep us about this high above the ground, alright? I don't want to be hitting any tree tops, and I certainly don't want to draw any undo attention from whatever may be below us. Understand?" S.I.M.S. beeped with a little nod.

"Good. Now, I'm releasing the stick. You have the controls." Cail took a deep breath, and released the flight stick.

[Autopilot check success]

The craft dipped right then left, but quickly leveled off. For the moment Cail's heart raced, sending a shooting pain that reminded him of his delicate condition due to the heart attack he'd suffered. By and large the mysterious shadow energies protected his heart, keeping him running at almost full capacity... but deep inside he knew it was only a partial preventative measure, and not a permanent solution.

The pain also reminded him of the main goal of this journey north. Unwrap this mystery and understand it. Cail rubbed his chest and shoulder thoughtfully as the craft leaned forward into flight. If by chance he should discover how to control this 'shadow', all the better for him.

* * * * * * * * * *
A Note:
(( I felt like I hit a wall, and so inspired by my experience with D&D and in an attempt to make the next bit of story more interesting I've implemented Dice Rolls! Some are random checks to see if he encounters any danger or trouble along the way. Other checks are mandatory based on what he may be doing at the time.

In this case, there is one mandatory check that happens every time he takes off or lands.
... one every time he flies from point a to point b to point c (depending on direction and length of travel).
... and now one every time he initiates autopilot.

I'm ironing out appropriate buffs and debuffs to accompany the varying sets of die rolls, attempting to best represent various conditions throughout the tale thus far. Due to my affinity for complex D&D rolls, I'll leave out the boring number play and simply display if it passed or failed then write accordingly, factoring also how badly he failed or how well he succeeded by the number spread.))