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| - Dearest Alicia, It is doubtful, even in the fullness of time, that you will ever read the words I put to parchment in these missives. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to chronicle my feelings and experiences for posterity just the same, and it makes queer enough sense that I address these letters to you - or, at the very least, to your memory. Please give my love to the boys. Yours in eternity, H.A. Rote
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| - Dearest Alicia, It is doubtful, even in the fullness of time, that you will ever read the words I put to parchment in these missives. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to chronicle my feelings and experiences for posterity just the same, and it makes queer enough sense that I address these letters to you - or, at the very least, to your memory. I should begin by saying that life in the Undercity could hardly be finer. Well, except for the corrosive green goop in the canals, the constant gloom, and the repugnant stitched-together monstrosities that guard the corridors. A fine life indeed, aside from those meager miscues. Of course, it seems anything but fitting that I criticize, given the state my body is in these days. The good news: I've lost weight! The bad news: I've also lost a great deal of flesh, thus exposing bones that normally would best be left concealed. No, you wouldn't recognize me now. I know this without a doubt thanks to a visit I paid to the house near Stormwind some time ago. Perhaps you recall. It must have been memorable. Rare to see a Forsaken gawking through the dining room window, to be sure. Poor Keenan. I felt so horrible frightening the lad. It only got worse when I heard you and Riff screaming with him. Then the guards came. I saw no reason to belabor my welcome at that point. Please accept my sincerest apologies for the poor manners exemplified by a hasty departure without even the simple courtesy of a farewell and by-your-leave. I still work in accountancy, but it has become more of a hobby. My primary focus is on mastering Fel Magic among the warlocks of the Magic Quarter. So far, it has been quite remarkable. I am capable of immolating creatures while draining them of their souls to create shards that provide the means to generate healthstones. I should really get a bag to hold all the souls I have acquired in recent days. Hmm. It occurs to me that it might be distressing to my wife and children to hear that I am wantonly sapping the souls of hapless creatures throughout the Eastern Kingdoms, like something out of a scary bedtime story. Allow me to assure you: The sapping is anything but wanton. I quite specifically target hostile creatures that try to kill me. I am not stalking innocents in Goldshire. The training remains at its earliest levels. I am a novice at harnessing Fel powers. But I am joined in my travels by a most curmudgeonly imp that identifies itself as Gaknam. The imp and I talk a lot. Well, I talk a lot to the imp, I should say. It has precious little to say to me, except to curse and complain about the suffering it endures as we roam Silverpine Forest. Please give my love to the boys. Yours in eternity, H.A. Rote
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