November 13th

The invasion of Northrend has begun and my journey to the roof of the world and my trip to the Violet City is underway. I had decided to make my journey via the Borean Tundra of Western Northrend so watched as the warm and clear skies of Durotar slowly faded, the sun disappearing below the horizon and behind chilled clouds as the air began to cool and an atmosphere of tension fell upon the zeppelin and the passengers I shared it with.

The sun was rising beyond the distant plateaus of Thunder Bluff as Tihocan Skyshatter paced boldly across the soft grasses of the Mulgore plains. It had been too long since his fur had felt the warmth of the sun here rather than in the cold mountain air of Hjal where he had spent the last few weeks meditating beneath the darkened boughs of the Moonglade.

*written in a neat, cursive hand in fluent common*

Dalar Dawnweaver,

The archeologists worked hard under the blistering durotar sun.

Durotar, that was the ancient name for this place.

Sweat beads ran and dropped marking the earth, leaving tracks where someone had passed, the sand always kept track.

The past, present, future the sand was a constant guardian.

This new excavation proved to reveal much on the elusive species, the Troll.