So I was cleaning up the bank again the other day (no, this is not a disorder, what is wrong with wanting to have things in alphabetical order and clean of dust I ask you?). Anyway, I was cleaning up my bank again the other day when I realised one of the bags I had been using actually had a tear in it. I took it out and patched it up, but before I put it back I realised something had fallen out of it, something I had long forgotten I had: my old journal.
I have to admit, flipping through the pages brought back old and fold memories of times when we used to think things were simple, that the Blackrock Mountains contained some of the biggest threats and the greatest secrets of magic and power. Boy, were we ever wrong!
Still, it was nice looking back at all the things me and my Puppet Masters have accomplished. And since you are all very special friends, I will let you have a little peak yourselves. If you enjoy it, I might let you see more of them.
Just be warned: He who laughs at us will burn for eternity! Laughing alongside us is allowed.
Are you ready?
Brace yourselves.
Here is what I wrote down after having ventured into the fallen Gnome City of Gnomeregan:
There’s No Place Like Gnome
Let’s face it. There’s no creature so vile, so wicked as the Gnome. Small, puny creatures with over-sized heads and ears, it is disgusting to just think of them. Alas, we would not have touched them even with tweezers, were it not for the fact that Nogg, a friend of ours who resides in Orgrimmar, needed our help. These wicked gnomes had stolen one of his magic trinkets, a ring to be more precise. Of course the Masters of the Voodoo are not heartless and are known to leap to help out, whenever a friend is in need. So it came that we ventured into the labyrinths of the long lost gnome city of Gnomeregan to retrieve Nogg’s ring and search for other bounty these wicked creatures had stolen for themselves. Needless to say, the gnomes and their engineered trinkets posed no threat to us, we gathered up the little creatures and executed them swiftly. Hopefully Nogg can now rest assured at night, that no filthy gnomes lure in the darkness, lusting for his shineys.
Aendi caught in a compromising position: retching at the sight of an ugly gnome.
Hm, that sure was a long time ago… I had forgotten how much I detested gnomes back then, I guess seeing them in Shattrath all day has dulled my dislike.
This next one is from when we had accomplished a mission for the Horde down in Uldaman. I managed to snap a picture just as Masque placed the staff used as a key to imprison Ironia.
Corrupted Creations
We have now ventured into the depths of the ruins of a lost civilisation, into the depths of Uldaman. Remnants of old dwarf magic linger still, proof of their evil twisted minds. We did our best to cleanse the place of evil and to recover the Platina Discs the dwarfs stole from the champions of the Horde centuries ago. Mission accomplished.
My, that place had a serious problem with Trogg-infestation! Still, we did manage to reveal a few secrets that improved our knowledge about how magic works.
I’ll share one last memory with you for now: This is from back when we first managed to scramble up the money to invest in mounts:
Wealth Comes to Those Worthy
We have had quite a few adventures by now, having fought the corrupted humans of the Scarlet Order, the vile pigmen creatures of Razorfen, the Nagas i the depths of Blackfathom and countless other wielders of wicked magic. Of course this being no small feat the word has spread and our ability to deliver swift judgement to those in the wrong has become widely renown. This has lead to us being showered with gifts, in the hope to win our allegiance and keep our wrath of vindication far from the givers doorstep.
With the money resulting from all this, we have now purchased mounts, so we may deliver our justice even swifter then until now.
Idara, the Puppet Mistress of Vindication, has after making a considerable donation to the Masters of the Paladin Order, been taught the ritual of summoning an astral warhorse. This is no mere horse of this world, but a creature from a more noble plane, with nerves of steel and as brave as the Paladin who commands it.
Anaesthesia, the Puppet Master of favorable Afflictions, visited the high warlock priests and learned the ritual of binding a daemon soul to this plane as a means of transportation. A steed of nightmare, with burning breath and hooves of flame, horrible and powerful, is the daemon enslaved by this Puppet Master, again proving the greatness of his power.
Masque, the Puppet Master of the Afterlife, has performed a magnificent Voodoo Ritual, to reanimate the skeletal corpse of a horse and uses it as his mount. The stench of the patches of rotting flesh is enough to let all enemies know that Masque is not one to be taken lightly.
As for me, Aendi, the Voodoo Queen herself, I have chosen to purchase a Hawkstrider, the most prized and exclusive mounts trained by the Bloodelves themselves. Who knows what horrid Bloodmagic this creature was forced to endure during its training… the mere thought of it is enough to send trembles of excitement down my spine. This is indeed a mount fit for a Queen.
Again, that really was a long time ago! We were so young and so inexperienced, still you can tell we had great ambitions back then already, can you not?
Voodoo Ventures 