The Diver's Log

[Rigley]

Entry 1____________________________

Hi.


I'm Rigley. I just bought a new book. Log, rather. A book would have actual content I guess. This is more like... blank pages. Oh well. I also made sure to purchase a chain to attach to this one, after the last one managed to plummet down to earth mid-flight.

I guess I'll just run through the general things on this first page. Like I said, I'm Rigley. Rigley Darrson. If you're reading this I'd really appreciate it if you stopped at around this page and gave this back to me. There's really no need to look through the rest of this. It'd be a little rude, too. So uh. Yes. Please return to the Ironforge Military Ward. Just ask for the Aquanaut. Or the Aquatic Engineer. Or the diver. I'm sure someone could point you in the right direction.

Again, you really don't need to read more of this if you find it. Really. Please.


Right, less of that. I'm not planning on losing this one anyways. After three (or was it four?) of these logs I think I can manage to learn enough to hang onto one. So yes, I'm a aquatic engineer. Former naval officer (discharged) and part-time cartographer of the Explorer's League. I draw sea charts, which is a pretty narrow field of employment. It usually involves me doing day and night flights over coasts on my gyrocopter, then making camp somewhere to make my notations. It doesn't pay much, but no one else really does it. So I guess I don't have any competition, at least?

It's a bit lonely though.


Um. What else. I really dislike openings like this. It's a bit awkward writing about yourself to yourself. ...That's the whole point of a journal though (I guess), and I've been doing that for the last few years.

Right, the journal.

So I'm writing this as a collection of events and schemata I make while in travel. And because the medical evaluation staff back in the navy said it was a coping mechanism. I don't really write interesting stuff though, and I've never really read back on anything. So I guess it's more cathartic than anything, if that's the right word. Kinda like when someone asks you 'how was your day?', except without the actual meaningful social interaction with anything more than an inanimate object. So really it's more like 'how was your day, self?'. Which is a bit depressing.


...I guess I'll write more later.

[Rigley]

Entry 2____________________________

Hi Journal.


I met some elves yesterday, while I was on my trip to the bay for a phlogiston pick-up.

And a Draenei.

They were nice.


Well, actually they kept wanting to see my helmet. And while I guess I don't mind that much, it was really a bit uncomfortable. Especially with all of the buckles and straps and the smoky air in the tavern...

Well, they were nice though. But the one with the blue eyes was a bit frightening. All in all, better than the old lady who was yelling at me. It was actually nice to have talk to some people for once though, even if I didn't have much to say. I guess it's nice just to talk in general. I wonder if they frequent the bay? It would be nice to have some people to carry a conversation with that doesn't have to do with maps.

Though I probably should actually think of some things to say next time. I think they wanted stories? Maybe I can read some seafarer's tales. Or listen to some of the marines in the bar.

It'd be really neat to make some friends.

Spoiler:

“Hey.”

Rigley furrowed his brow, peering down at the blueprint in front of him as he scratched out another line of the design he was working on.

“Hey.”

He paused, scratching the back of his head as he looked over the scrawling text and unevenly lined blueprint. On the page was a shoddy design for a conceptual gyrocopter. He had spent the last few hours on the thing, and it felt like he still hadn't even struck the halfway point.

“Hey, guy!” chirped the voice beside him again. With a blur he found the paper tugged off of his portion of the table, Rigley scrambling to turn towards the source of the voice. A gnome stood beside him, perched on one of the library chairs as she scribbled away at his print quickly.

“E-erm.”

“Don't worry guy, I'm not messing it up.” she told him in a patronizing tone, slapping the page right back down before him after a brief moment. He peered back down at the edited print, face reddening at the minor (yet correct) changes that dotted the page now.

“Y'know, we don't see guys like you around here a lot. Just come over from Stormwind?”

He frowned, looking up from the blueprint for long enough to reply “Lordaeron,” before he continued writing.

The gnome's cheery demeanor didn't seem to miss a beat, though her expression softened some at this. “I see. You like it here?” she asked, not leaving the topic to dwell long.

“...I guess.” he replied, shrugging some. “...It's different. I've only been here a month or so, really.”

“I bet it'll grow on you.” she replied, taking a seat in the chair she had been standing upon, leaning over rather nonchalantly to peer at his writing as he continued etching out the print. He didn't mind at first, but by this point it felt rather scrutinizing. He honestly felt a bit bothered, having some gnome come up and interject into the middle of his build. It wasn't as if he was experienced or anything at this...

“Oh! Right there, guy.” she chirped, tapping at one of his fresh etchings. “Turn it a bit! It'll be better for keeping shape.”

He sighed, making the edit quickly.


“I'm Aerie, by the way. What's your name? Or should I just keep calling you guy?”

“...Rigley.” he said, peering back down to the gnome, brow furrowed slightly from the crumbling concentration.

“You're looking kinda stressed. Want to run by a bar, or get something to eat? You gotta pace yourself, after all.” she told him, rocking back and forth in her seat as she peered up to the larger figure before her.

“I don't think...”

“'Sides, you seem like a nice guy. I actually haven't been outta Gnomeregan myself until lately. It'd be cool to look around the place with someone else.”

Rigley rubbed the back of his head, shoulders sagging ever slightly. He shrugged after a moment. “Sure, why not.”

"Great! It's easier to get used to a place like this with a friend."

"...Yeah."

[Rigley]

"Hey, gimme."

Rigley furrowed his brow, reaching about as he tried to clasp his hands around the box held about by his gnomish companion.

"Last one!" she chimed brightly, holding the wrapped present out to the human that towered over her. "Though I think you've already got all the good stuff out."

Rigley took the small box, looking it over and rattling it gently. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not that hard to please." he said, tugging at the bow to unfasten the ribbon about the small chest. It fell open, the man's expression a bit dulled as he fished out a razor.

"...It's not that bad, is it?" he asked, rubbing under his chin, then back along his long hair.

"Not now, but if you keep it up you're going to start looking like some of our professors." she replied with a wry grin. "It's just a joke, Riggles."

He continued to feel over his beard a moment, setting aside the box and razor and tugging the small woman into his lap. She squirmed about a bit, adjusting herself some as she eyed the spectacled man, She settled back once his arms came about to embrace her, closing her eyes slowly as she let out a drawn-out sigh.

"...It's not the same. But thanks."

He nodded, looking about the small dwarven home. Normally it was all rather bare of decor, just cluttered with their assorted engineering materials and blueprints. Today it was fully set with the Winter's Vale spirit, clad in greens and reds all over, a large tree rising up beside them in the center of the room.

For Rigley his home hadn't looked this way since he was a child in Darrowshire. But that was long lost to the Scourge, as were many of his family. This year the same had happened to Aeria. It wasn't anything like Gnomeregan, to be sure-- in truth he wasn't even sure how festive things became around there. He was only about for study, before the fall. But it seemed a pleasant sentiment, nonetheless.

"It isn't. I'm sorry." he told her, leaning her against him for a brief moment. "...At least we have each other, huh?"

"...Yeah."


The pair watched the hearth for some time, idly chatting. Eventually talk of the present became talk of the past, though it was all in good spirits. It wasn't until the bells rang in the night that one of them stirred from their festive den.

"I suppose I should get to bed. Got a long day tomorrow, Rig." Aeria said, vaulting out from the man's lap, making her way to the stairs.

"A-ah... Wait." he said, quickly rousing himself from his languid demanor as he pulled his body upright. "I forgot-- there was another present, actually." he stammered out, following behind her quickly. She raised a brow, looking about the home.

"...I don't see anything." she said, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I'm serious, Rigley. I gotta get to bed."

He pointed silently to one of the branches of the tree, hidden by its place against the wall. Up within it was a tiny box.

"...That's not cool." she said with a huff, walking over and raising an arm-- she didn't even come near the height of the tree, hopping slightly to try and come in range of the chest. In the end she just set a flat stare on the human, motioning for him to hand it over. He chuckled slightly in response, fetching the box out from the tree, kneeling down to present it on level.




Rigley sat on the floor, staring at the old worn box. The festive paper was crinkled and wearing down from years of handling. The hinge on the lid was rusted, and by now it took a bit of force to open. What lay inside however was still as pristine as the day it had been given; polished gold, and a well cut gemstone.

It was a ring.

He slowly pried the ring from its box, turning it about in his hands. An engraving of a cog ran along each side of the gem's inset. Lordaeron blessings were inscribed along the side of the ring itself. It had cost him a great deal, back when he originally had it made. A fair sum of coin, as well as what he could gain from the sale of his original masterwork-- a flying machine. It was worth every copper piece for the expression on her face that day.

Carefully, as if handling some fragile jewel, he set it back within its case and closed the lid. These days he didn't decorate in the same way as before. Only a tree, really. It wasn't as if anyone else would know or notice. It was just a tree with that box in the top.

He stood up, tying the bow along the box and making his way back upstairs to set it back in his safe. He was always very particular about where it went-- in the back right corner, set underneath the blueprint for his suit. As he replaced the box inside the vault, her words ran through his head once more.

'I'll just set it in here 'till we're back. It'd be a shame to lose it on the trip.'