Here is a brief journal entry for her from days past. Yes, she goes by Melanie Massey; the name hasn't converted yet.
I’ve always been on my own. There hasn’t been much conflict in me about that. Since the change, and even slightly before then, I’ve found comfort in knowing that I don’t really need to be around people to find happiness. I’m no social butterfly and I certainly can’t work well when my colleagues are too busy trying to be the hero. I left the First because I’m not afraid to take a stand. I knew things were going to go down a long, dark road and although I’ve weathered much worse, I came to the realization that I can’t keep living a lie. The lie wasn’t that I’m a soldier — I will always be a warrior and I will always hold my ground and one of the toughest women I know. The lie was that I could stand around and do nothing all day. As much as I want to protect people, I know that its everyone’s responsibility to care for everyone. There are other ways I can protect the city and people. There are other ways I can make my family proud of me.
After Pop’s death, I took a good look at myself in the mirror and realized that I was letting my head get spun around and forcing myself to make other people happy without really thinking about my own happiness. I want to be what I set out to be. I’m good at what I do; one of the last women out there who will tackle things that are traditionally considered “man’s work,” not because I want to be like a man but because I believe that regardless of what gender I am — I am capable and it is my responsibility to do it. With talents comes a great responsibility to use them for the benefit of everyone, not just one or two people. I kissed Mama after the funeral and told her I needed to fly. I may have broken wings, but I can’t mend them if I stay stationary and keep doing the same things I have been doing since day one.
I left Redridge with what little I saved up. I went to Duskwood. I suppose part of me was still clinging to Berian. Not to mention the housing there is much cheaper than it is in the crowded city. I bought a little house up in the mountains. I hear the howl of wolves and I’m surrounded by darkness, but I won’t let it get to me — physically or spiritually. I bought the house with every cent I had. I slept on dirty floors for a long while and bathed in the creek on the side of the house. It doesn’t make me stronger, but it certainly opened my eyes to how having very little and relying on just yourself can be hard. I knew if I kept this up, I’d eventually starve myself to death in that little cold shack. I took up some odd jobs around the different areas and managed to buy myself some wood and some food. I built myself a small training station on the side of the house and between jobs or before bed, I would train myself until my knuckles bled. I wasn’t sure if it was out of self-depreciation or a desire to prove to myself that I was beyond whatever maelstrom was churning in my own soul.
While I was in Elwynn picking up some supplies, I ran into Dreydan Ruin. I remember being infatuated with him, but looking at him, I know that it wasn’t right for either one of us. Letting him go was the best thing that I could have done for either one of us. He came to me as a friend and asked for my help. His new love, Tesah, had been held at knife-point and forced into servitude for some group called the H.O.C. I remarked on the stupidity of it all. How does one get kidnapped in broad daylight? I suppose my rant would be better clarified if it was “knowledge” that Tesah is a “masterful tactician.” I laughed at Dreydan. Once again, he is young and naive. He’s thinking romantically and not logically.
I had to help him because he is a friend and it is the right thing to do.
I told him to take himself and Tesah and hide in my house in Darkshire. Its temporary but, it’s all I could think of. I’m not tactician, I just know what I know and I know how to take care of the problem. Dreydan wanted Tesah to stay with the H.O.C and find out information. If I know people like I know them, Tesah will end up dead because she was stupid enough not to fight back when they took her. I would rather be dead than be a slave to some faceless cult. Why don’t women people fight back anymore? What is the desire about being a damsel in distress?