Feeling raw and exposed

As you can clearly see from my blog and my Twitter posts, I'm a regular drinker. Usually I drink socially, in celebration of an event, or for other upbeat, positive reasons. When I get inebriated, I'm usually a happy, flirtatious, outgoing person.

Last night, I was drinking for the wrong reason, and I feel I owe an apology and an explanation. I was drinking because I was in a bad mood, and while I had no intention to become completely sloshed, it happened anyway. That's usually not a good combination.

Yesterday was rough. There are rumors going around of what is going to happen in the upcoming months. Some things are obvious: we're preparing to strike at the Lich King in Icecrown. Being Harvest Festival when we are honoring our fallen heroes, it's impossible to face the fact that we're going to war and many people will not be returning home.

But there are also rumors--prophecies of what will happen at Icecrown and beyond. Some of the oracles who have had these visions are more trustworthy than others, but what they report is disturbing beyond words.

Thrall will take his leave as leader of the Horde. Some say he will have a Wrynn-like experience where he is kidnapped and found suffering amnesia. But even after his identity is revealed, he won't be coming back as leader of the Horde.

Garrosh will be taking his place, and one of his moves will be against Cairne Bloodhoof...possibly even leading to Cairne's assassination.

The Trolls, Forsaken, and my own people will be removed from the center of Orgrimmar. While I know we can handle ourselves on the other continent in the Eastern Kingdoms, what does this mean of Vol'jin? Will he and his people get their lands back? Will they go willingly? Or, after having been Thrall's right-hand-man for so long, will VJ be exiled away? How will he take it?

And Sylvanas.... Fighting in Icecrown will happen. I know her. I know she'll want to be there. If she cannot make the killing blow herself, she will want to be present when the Lich King falls. This makes me worry, as she has an attitude of "He will die. And if I die, I will take him with me." She is that determined. Some prophets are predicting she won't return.

I know...so much of this is rumor, supposition, and possibly simply the hallucinations of madmen. There have been no predictions as to what will happen to me, but at this point I don't care. When people predict all your friends will be dead or missing, the world suddenly feels very scary and very very lonely.

If I wasn't feeling bitter enough, I accidentally said some things to the Boss Lady and triggered her own melancholy. She disappeared for the most part of the day, allegedly lamenting her death and the fall of Quel'Thalas. I know she takes it as a "failure" and that eats at her every day. But if I hadn't...no, Dar'Khan would have conned someone else, but even still...

Sylvie, I'm sorry. It shouldn't have happened in the first place. I'm so sorry.

So I did what any man could do with his bitterness and guilt and anger and despair: I bottled it up, went to Winterspring with Lady Dawnrise and her friend, and took out my frustrations in a killing spree of hostile beings. If I couldn't protect my home or people, and can't protect my friends in the future, at least for now, I could protect a few who are so dear to me.

The excursion helped. The emotional aspect of those memories were vented in physical activity. The memories pushed back down and re-bottled as I reveled in the here-and-now. But it was a fragile suppression, as I returned home to many frantic notes and messengers about the Dark Lady missing without a trace. She returned about the same time I did, and we reassured everyone she could take care of herself. She and I spoke a little. And she said to me, "I think all this talk of the future has had a sobering effect on all of us, even someone as cranky as @blightcaller."

Sobering effect. At that point, that was the last thing I wanted. So I sent a message to Thrall I would be in Orgrimmar soon. Brewfest was still going on, and I needed a drink or ten.

Mind you, I had no intention of getting as smashed as I did, but as soon as I arrived a large platoon of Dark Iron Dwarves showed up too. Instinct struck as I saw them kicking festival goers out of the way, and I had to protect them. But my weapons did little good against them. It hurt to watch this invasion and feel so helpless...again.

Then an orc at Drohn's Distillery, pushed a stein in my hand and said, "Liquid courage." I watched as he chugged his drink and threw the mug at an approaching dwarf, striking the dwarf squarely on the head and knocking it out. I followed suit, rapidly chugging and flinging as mugs of various brews were continuously put into my hands.

It was over in minutes, but it felt like hours. And by the time I reconnected with my friends, I was sloshed. At least I had a victory I could claim, but...no one else had been there. No one else could celebrate with me. No one else would, as they all had their reasons to remain sober for the night. I don't even know if Thrall showed up. He probably got side-tracked by another emergency.

I was trying to protect them...

So much for suppressing those feelings through some social interaction and drinking just enough to relax. Instead, all those emotions from before were magnified.

Even worse, the Prophet Velen showed up and saw me in this state. Great. Admittedly, in my inebriated state, I mistook some of his comments for veiled insults and lashed out in kind. I felt isolated at that point, and hyper-sensitive to disapproval of my behavior in public. It was not my best moment.

Luisette, may the Well bless her, escorted me home and took care of me in ways she has become very skilled. She complained this morning of lower back pain, and Sylvanas suggested it might have occurred to something she did to me overnight. Perhaps. Or perhaps it was from when I woke up in the middle of the night, practically crushing her against me, my tears slipping into her hair. I had been dreaming of losing my friends, and could not bear losing another. Not her.

Perhaps I should be relieved that she was still there in the morning. Perhaps I should be relieved my friends and fellow leaders were still around too. Hangover aside, I still feel bitter. Bitter and angry and apprehensive. I am worried for my friends, and worried what it could all mean for my people. I know that I have been ranked as #6 on the "Better Warchief than Garrosh Hellscream" list, with Hogger edging me down from the other present-day leaders (and Saurfang). I don't care. I wouldn't want the job.

Under normal circumstances, elves live long lives. I just want to know that I have many more years left where I will be able to drink and laugh and enjoy the company of my friends.

At this moment I'm grasping desperately for any reason to relax and laugh at all.

Winter Veil Wish List - Part 2

The other day I posted my wish list. Since then, it turns out that one of my wishes has already been granted. It wasn't Christie Golden, but another talented scribe who submitted some information about me to our grand overlords at Blizzard. Said scribe embellished a little (as scribes are wont to do), but otherwise managed to document that time period between the recapture of the Isle of Quel'Danas and the expedition to Northrend perfectly. Amongst other things, they grasped my unwillingness to be called "king" despite the deserved promotion beyond "regent," the reasons I show some animosity toward Rommath (and yes, I do pity him at the same time), my desire for peace with the Quel'dorei, and the dawning realization that I must tread carefully to not follow Kael'thas's path of leadership.

And the scribe won a contest on my behalf.

Well, I'm glad more is now known about me. However, those particular days expose many raw emotions. I've read it over and over again, feeling old wounds reopen. It is the mark of a good scribe to be able to extract the same feelings no matter how many times we've read his/her work. The reason I try to keep this journal rather light-hearted and cover other subjects is because I don't wish to burden others with those problems they do not need to see. But once in a while, it is good that the audience understands what their leaders go through.

For that reason, I highly recommend giving it a read. Remember, while it is based on my own experiences, it was another scribe who completed the work and submitted it.

I need to find him and give him a promotion.

As to the subject of this post, since one of my wishes has now come true (although I was hoping for more of a biography so people would STOP claiming a relation to me that simply does NOT exist), I must now come up with a replacement.

I now ask Greatfather Winter a request on behalf of my people:

In neutral cities such and Dalaran and Shattrath, I would like the merchants, bankers, and other townspeople to also observe neutrality, lest my people begin to pull their support and protection. I've had numerous complaints that upon concluding business with Horde races, the townspeople often make the parting comment "For the Alliance!"

No. Just no.

I know the townsfolk have their loyalties too, but they are alienating those who would otherwise gladly help them. So in the spirit of diplomacy, I ask Greatfather Winter to make them see the folly of bias in neutral territory. My people go to Dalaran because they must. It's bad enough that they willingly go in and defend the Violet Hold knowing that is where their Prince, friends, and family members were driven to join the naga and Illidan in order to survive. But then to be told "for the Alliance!" when all they want to do is a simple banking transaction? After all they've been through such treatment is a slap in the face.

I'm not even asking for members of the Horde to find employment in the main part of Dalaran, forcing out those who already have an established livelihood there. Just requesting some conscious effort on the part of the townsfolk to remember that half the people supporting their economy and protection are not "for" the Alliance at all.

Confessions: Of Love, Desire, and Duty.

I lay awake in bed all night, a lovely lady cradled in my arms where I kept her safe and warm, and I wondered, "What the hell am I doing?" Attraction? Desire? Love? These are not foreign concepts, but in some sense they are forbidden to be chased and, by the Well, attained on my own.

These thoughts began after a lively discussion on Twitter about Prince Kael'thas and his poor courtship of Lady Jaina Proudmoore. First, I must say that before he mingled with the wrong crowd and became power hungry (and subservient to a poor choice in Master), I did respect the man. If the Prince had anything going for him, it was that his heart was always in the right place. He was just a complete dumbass when it came to expressing it. Oh, he was eloquent and well-trained in diplomacy. His social graces were impeccable, and he was an intelligent man. But all of that training was for the benefit of the state. Dealing with other governments is easy compared to one-on-one, person-to-person contact. Worse, when it's regarding affairs of the heart.

It's not that the Prince was forbidden to love, but that in the end he'd be forced to court whomever his father or the Convocation of Silvermoon decided was the "right" girl. And even if he was not interested in girls (I know what you all are thinking right now, but it's a moot point!) he had no choice in the matter. His lot in life was to marry for the good of our people and produce an heir.

Well, we all know THAT didn't happen.

In the meantime, I was more or less married to my job. I worked for Lady Sylvanas. My duties kept me constantly on the move. I always thought there would be time to find the right person and settle down "later."

I never imagined that in this sense, I'd end up like the Prince.

I can't begin to explain how deep is my loathing for discussing this subject with others. After Children's Week, I made an off-hand comment about the kids being cute, and maybe when things in Northrend settle down I could explore those paternal feelings that suddenly surfaced. The next thing I knew, I had letters from several nobles describing in exacting detail the fine qualities of their most eligible daughters. When I politely turned them away, I knew rumors would spread, and suddenly I had young courtiers looking to "gain favor," if you know what I mean (and I think you do).

And THEN there are the political issues. Halduron frets about it with me on occasion. Pick a Farstrider, and people will make accusations of favoritism. Pick a Blood Knight, and risk losing the support of the Rangers with whom I've worked all these years. (Despite my best efforts, the Blood Knight-Farstrider feud still runs deep.) Rommath would like to throw one of his apprentice mages at me, possibly to tip the balance of power in his direction. Warlocks and Rogues, while valuable assets to the government at large, would cause tension that would affect our connection to the other Horde races. By process of elimination, a member of the Priest class seems like the ideal potential mate, but even their sway between Shadow and Light is prime for a political snafu.

And what about those who have not taken up arms to join the defenders of our city? There are all types of people out there in the world--even those not of the Sin'dorei race. However, THAT would cause even more problems. We all know that Vereesa Windrunner was one of us. We give her what respect we can as a former Ranger and Lady Sylvanas's sister. I have an inkling of what type of woman she is. But after marrying a human and then attempting to block our membership to Dalaran and the Kirin Tor, I know how a lot of our people consider her a traitor and blame it on the influence of her human husband, Rhonin. I cannot go down that path right now, even for true love.

All of this said, I am still a man who craves companionship and love as any other. Idle flirtation is fun, but perhaps it is the gravity of the pressure from the government itself requiring that I make the "right" choice that is the reason I can make no choice at all. I know what I like, and I know what I seek, but love and country contracts do not always mix.

I know what you're thinking here, too: What's my type, and frankly, which way do I swing. (I get enough gay jokes that I might as well address the topic, even if only to skim the surface.)

I will say this much: I am comfortable enough with myself that I can say I've met as many unattractive women as I have attractive men. To put it in terms other than sexuality, I might state a preference for people with light-colored hair, but I may see many whom I just don't find attractive. I may also see many with dark hair that I find very attractive. My preference still exists, but doesn't preclude attraction. So yes, I can say the same about the genders. I'm just not saying which of the two I prefer.

The foolish thing about the debate over my sexuality is that the main thing that interests me is a compatible personality. I am attracted to a person of wit and intelligence. One who can hold a conversation long into the morning hours. One who can be playful and serious, and know when is the appropriate time for each. I like a person to be charming and graceful. A potential partner must be strong of character, will, and determination. That person must be able to laugh, but also not afraid to cry. I can't stand a damsel in distress, but need to be allowed a "hero" moment every so often. I want a partner with whom I can stand back-to-back, knowing they will protect me as I protect them. That person should have a sense of curiosity and adventure, but tempered with wisdom and common sense.

These traits are the most important things to me before I can consider looks or even gender.

Might I be describing someone I already know? Again, I won't tell...!

Anyway...for now it seems I will indulge in a playboy lifestyle since settling down is not in my near future.

But a man can dream.