Mosur
Mosur sat in a small eating establishment in the Cathedral district. It was a relatively quiet establishment; it didn't have the same crowds as the Blue Recluse or the Pig and Whistle might but that‘s what made it special and why it was quiet. They didn't have a large selection of food; their breakfast menu had maybe five things on it, but the taste and quality made up for all that.
He flipped open his journal. The first page had been torn out but beyond that there was nothing written. A small note was folded in half and stuck out the top of the book. He smirked a little, glancing at the top of the note. He readjusted his grip on his pen and began to write in Draenei.
It's been a while since I've written anything worth keeping. I've been busy and too much has happened to record it all. After all of this I am tired. I have learned disturbing things and I have considered disturbing actions, but in the end none of it even seemed necessary. I must attribute a lot of my decision making, or lack there of, to a particularly friendly Imp.
She seems to have her own troubles and issues but to be of generally good heart. Who am I to judge the actions of people anymore. Especially actions of the past. She has a guard, and by the sounds of him someone not right with the law, but good enough with his intentions.
I seem to have taken to calling myself 'this old goat' to a few folks I would consider good friends. That said I have to stop and think, how old am I really? Decades- Centuries older than those whose company I have been enjoying. For my race, I am not so old. I am healthy with few ailments. I have at least a few I know who care about my well being- moreso than some should. I also have a job, a commitment to the Templars, all good people even if some of them are a bit infuriating.
About the Templars. I had thought about trying to settle down in Wintergarde the place had gotten kind of comfortable. After being back from the North, however, I think I'm better off staying away from the frozen wastes- it is too cold. I had then considered settling down in Theramore, or at least thereabouts. It's not too big a town, not too far removed from everything, but far enough. The more I think on it the less I want to pursue it. It was a good thought but it doesn't seem like a good fit.
I have traded in being a guard for being a wanderer again. This is for obvious reasons, but still it is odd now without a constant companion. I know that there is nothing I could have done that would have made the outcome any better. Well there are things, but how much different would the outcome be if I had sold myself as well?
I shouldn’t worry over things like this too much. These things have already happened and there is nothing that can change them. I have repaid my debts and let loose my ties. I’ll just have to see what comes next for me.
He leaned back in his chair and glanced around the empty eatery. His food had gone cold and he frowned a bit at the plate, sighing. His hand closed over the journal, shutting the cover. The tips of his fingers brushed the edge of the note trapped between the pages back and forth. He would not be seeing Merry anymore and Xodius was soon getting married. Maewood had left abruptly on some kind of journey and the rest of the Templars were scattered about doing their own things. Occasionally there was talk over the guild stone he recalled, but none of it was ever anything that concerned him.
Two left. He thought. The Devil and the Imp. His finger tips brushed the edge of the note again while he thought.
