Leper Hunter: War Journal

[Jonoth]

She awakens in a dark room, shackled to the table, the sound of hammering echoing through the walls. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was in Ironforge, though her being a Gnome definitely pointed in that direction. She struggled against her chain bindings, but Dwarven steel would prove difficult to break through unarmed. Her greenish skin bruised under the strain, and after a while, she stopped fighting it. If they wanted her dead, they would have killed her already. Instead, her visitors dropped a leather-bound book on her chest, glaring with accusing eyes. Finally, one speaks up.

"Ye fought tough, an' from what me read, ye been knee deep in it fer a while. But lass, yer time be just about up. How long do ye think yer gonna go on like this, before th'crazy completely takes over?"

She says nothing, her face colder than the metal binding her. Her fractured mind wanders, recalling the details of the book on her chest. Her war journal. The only way people would come to learn. To understand that to her, she was already dead.

Entry 1 - One week after the fall of Gnomeregan

Salutations. I am writing this as a warning to anyone who finds it. To anyone who survived this apocolypse. My name is Tinkathy Rustwrench. This was once my home, Gnomeregan. It thrived in calculated glory through the ingenious population of proud inventors. We were the engineers of the Alliance. We could create algorithms to resolve any discrepancy. We were infallible.

I am confined to a small ventilation shaft. The screams have lessened since the first few days, but not sufficiently. Sleep is difficult to obtain. It has been two days since the cough started. Feverish. These goggles have helped correct sudden onset blurriness, as well as calmed the headaches. The nausea is persistent, however. Chances of survival estimated at 17 percent. Will have to seek proper nutrition. Unsure if proper nutrition exists. Will have to comply with what can be scavenged. Sleep is difficult to obtain. The screams...the screams.

Peered through ventilation. Saw fellow Gnome and wished to communicate. Gnome was an ochre color. Sanity was questionable. Began masticating own hand. Loss of sanity verified. Will I join him? Need to measure radiation levels. Why did this happen? What happened to our great city? Will help come? Must find sustenance. Must obtain sleep. Will report more as data is gathered.

[Jonoth]

Entry 2 - One month after the fall of Gnomeregan

Self-examination results: non-optimistic. Skin pigmentation change up to 96.4 percent. Last unblemished patch holding out, as I continue to hold out. No communications outside, Troggs have eaten many wires. Attempts to patch into mainframe unsuccessful. Apparent that interface has been purposely tampered with.

Hallucinations continue to set in. Visually confirmed uninfected survivor. Ran to greet. Attempted to hug. Hallucination subsided and allowed me to confirm that the lifeform I showed affection to was a Trogg. Attempt was made on my life. Terminated with handsaw. Brought remains back to hideout for study/nutrition. One month ago, I would be horrified to consider eating Trogg meat. Now a matter of survival.

Occasionally identify moving vehicles parsing tunnels. Unable to confirm operators. Suspicion of other surviving Gnomes in corrupted state. Suspicion that situation created in Gnomeregan is intentional. Must seek further data. Perhaps Mekkatorque has betrayed us. Perhaps someone else. Hope for self-preservation minimal. Must retain hope that others escaped. Must find the source of contamination, or terminate while trying.