[Storytime/Journal] Delplas Rockhide: On Names

Our names have meaning. What they mean to us is what matters – whether or not they have meaning to those who speak to us means nothing.

Delplas Rockhide sat upon a hill that overlooked the ocean that bordered Ratchet. She only had a passing familiarity with the customs and beliefs of her Horde allies, but she had learned several things in her few run-ins with the other races. One, that the pink elves – Blood Elves – seemed to enjoy appropriating the cultural practices of others and two, that some Orcs seemed to believe that the vows they had made meant they could re-name others as they saw fit.

For Delplas, the refusal to use the name someone had been given was disrespectful.

Our ancestors received their names for the things they did and we carry those names with honour and pride because they make up who we are. They are not a lie. We make certain the meanings of those names are remembered in story and song, we pass on those tales so that others may be reminded. When we earn new names, those names have meaning, too. Some meaning is impossible to translate to Orcish – the Orcs’ tongue is too harsh, too unfamiliar, too primitive to truly understand.

The druid adjusted the tiny pair of goblin spectacles that were propped on the end of her snout and that she squinted through in order to write in the small leather-bound book that she held in one large hand. Everything was too small for Delplas, from the armour she wore to the charcoal she was writing with. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she added,

The Orc Gorteta is, I would wager, a child and lacks the understanding of an adult: the name one has been given or has given to himself is the name that must be used when communicating with him. To do otherwise is showing a lack of respect toward that person and to his ancestors, who have blessed the name. It does not matter what that name means to the speaker – but it is vitally important to the Named.

My name is not Druid, it is Delplas Rockhide. My first name was bestowed upon me by my mother at birth, Earthmother bless her, and my second name given by my Ragetotem elders when I sought to break from tradition. I am “Bear-Sister of the Impenetrable Hide”. My name means everything to me.

Delplas snorted as she pushed her little spectacles up onto her snout again and squinted at the words she had written. Her scrawling continued soon after, interrupted by occasional pause as she glanced skyward to track the sun’s progress on its trek across the sky.

It is extremely disrespectful to refuse to use the name that I, or anyone else, was given. It offends me that my name is going to be treated as meaningless by this woman because she does not understand it and because she disagrees with it.

The woman tapped her charcoal against the page. Since setting hoof among civilization she had found some very odd, but interesting, situations – and this one she was having trouble writing about. Delplas carefully closed her book and tucked it under her arm as she pulled herself to her hooves and made her way for the inn. Perhaps some sleep would give her some mental clarity and she could better form her thoughts later on.

[Journal][Tuhina] Changing Tides

[ Most of Tuhina's journal is located here. Tuhina is - or was - a Warlock on Thorium Brotherhood. This is to explain why she's going to disappear off the server 'til Cataclysm. ]

As I use – and perhaps abuse – Fel Magic more and more, I find that it becomes harder to see. The physicians in Silvermoon tell me that channeling Demonic energies much longer will rob me of my sight and my health. If Grub is still alive out there, somewhere, and I keep this up, I will probably die long before he returns home.

Perhaps that is what gave me pause, that understanding, as I sat and thought about it upon returning to the flat that I recently re-rented. I moved back to Silvermoon, sans much of the belongings I had accumulated over the past two years, at the end of January. Its familiarity and garishness is comforting, in a way, despite the lack of friendly Trolls. With everyone in Northrend it has grown quiet.

That… is fine by me.

[ The entry continues in slightly darker ink. ]

I have asked my previous trainers for a favour – I want nothing more to do with the Demonic, nor with Fel. The process of eliminating the results of my training from my body will take a long time, and I will never fully recover from it all.

I will also require the aid of a shaman or druid to cleanse my body. I refuse to have a Light-stooshing wielding zealot such as that half-elven mongrel woman lay a hand on me.

The months have seen me grow weak of body but stronger of will. Once all that binds me to the Demons at my command is eliminated, I will be returning to the Colonel to see about physical training and, perhaps, discuss with the magisters the possibility of returning to my original vocation.

Rest, and more tea.

With the Lich King now dead, all I can do is wait. If he ever comes back, I’ll still be waiting. If he doesn’t

[ The entry tr

[Journal][Taashti] Travelogue of a Techno-Shaman

[ Taashti's writing is a terrible mess. The occasional rude doodle graces the pages - Commanders, general folks from inns, auctioneers - complete with nasty commentary that's at least on-par with rebellious teenager talk. Pages containing engineering schematics are the complete opposite of everything else in the book: neat, tidy and detailed. After at least fifteen pages bitching about Hellfire Peninsula, idiot Death Knights, the smell of burning Tauren, the smell of wet gnomes, the general appearance of gnomes, the sensation of Fel Orc under one's hooves and all sorts of other nonsense, we get to the following: ]

NORTHREND

Northrend is where all current Alliance forces reside. It’s where everybody is and I’m not. It’s where all the good, meaningful, interesting work is and it’s not hot and maybe the spirits don’t scream there. That’s where I want to be.

I’m so, so, so, so, so, so, so sick of Hellfire and Outland and I ran away from here and it’s hopeless and trying to take it back is fucking idiotic.

My trainers said something about how if I want to progress I have to ~*let go of my paaast*~ and be more for ~*helping others*~ and ~*stop smoking*~ … and drinking… and swearing. Fuck that. And none of them believe that what I’m doing is right either, like technology is something we have to avoid at all costs or just I don’t know, it is evil and ew horrible don’t touch. It’s like … they have something amazing but they want to exclude all other amazing things, I don’t get it? And if I let go of my past I forget who I am and if I do that I forget mom and I forget Kishanti. I can’t forget Kishanti.

I can’t get her face out of my head either and it’s not like it’s her smile or anything it’s that last

[ A mass of scribbling graces the page immediately below the sentence, taking up approximately one paragraph worth of space. Frustrated scribbles. ]
And I don’t have a dad to forget.

I wonder if he’s in Northrend though, if maybe he lived through everything. If he’s not a big bad hunter like I failed at being maybe he’s a paladin or a kick-ass warrior or a shaman like me. Imagine that though, if he was like… if he electrocuted Scourge for a living, or if he commanded a legion of ghostly wolves and cool shit like that.

Maybe I’ll sneak on a boat and try to see it all for myself.

Aw man. Grandpa is totally gonna kill me.

I bet that’s where he is, too, chilling with the Kirin Tor and being old and trying to hook me up with dudes fifteen times my age or something.