World of Warcraft®

Alone.

It was a feeling very familiar to the young man as he walked the street of Theramore, carefully using back alleys and shortcuts to avoid the crowds. Loneliness was a price he had accepted when he joined SI:7. Arlston plodded along the muddy streets due to the recent rain, head up, eyes cold and wary above the mask he always wore, but his mind was slowed with nostalgia.

Pillar of Honor. That was a name to be proud of. Pillar of Honor, a group of justice seeking individuals who upheld the Honor of the Alliance, the Pillar was his home. Master Shaw had approved of his assignment as the Pillar’s liaison to the Stormwind Intelligence network, and welcomed the combined reports from Pillar members and scouts alike. The Pillar had shared valuable intelligence with SI:7, being the closest to Durotar, and able to easily reconnoiter the Horde fortifications and military movements.

SI:7 still welcomed him as a brother, and as a valuable asset, but now questioned his position as a Vanguard of the Pillar. As a Covert Personnel Elimination Agent, Arlston was given the freedom to pursue any course of action he deemed as important, as long as he remained faithful to the Kingdom of Stormwind and its people. As long as his goal coincided with Master Shaw’s and King Varian’s, Arlston was free to do as he saw fit. His resolved to do his duty to his people and those who needed protection would not falter.
And there, lay the problem.

The Pillar, his home, his family, the place he felt most comfortable, the most relaxed, was empty. Arlston turned the last corner and gazed up at the imposing Theramore Keep. A solid fortress, the Pillar’s Headquarters had stood resolute and strong when he was accepted. Arlston passed through the gates of keep, and slowly walked the cold, empty halls. Glancing back at his footprints, Arl noticed the layer of dust that coated the floor, but sighed and kept walking. Nobody had come back. The Pillar of Honor was shattered and broken, its goals unknown. SI:7 no longer validated his attachment to them.

It had been weeks, and in some cases months since he had seen a fellow Pillar. The Highguard Brenri was gone, and her replacement Timeus was missing as well. Arlston did not know where Tyrnnya had gone, nor Vanressa. Nisur had not been seen in weeks. One man Arlston felt somewhat close to, Croesan, had left the Pillar of Honor months ago.
His family was gone.

Reaching his solitary quarters, Arlston opened the door and hung his belt and knives on the pegs by the cabinet. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Arlston did what he did best. He thought.

The Pillar had been seeing waning numbers ever since the retirement of Ehlina, yet never as bad as it was now. The Pillar had once been united in its purpose, every member striving and working towards the same goal, but now nobody knew what the others did. Sitting on his bed, listening to the silence of the Keep, once bustling with noise, now eerily quiet, Arlston felt truly alone.

He had not felt this way since losing his parents during the Defias raid, in which he had lost the will the live. The will to show the world what he felt, his face itself a cold, emotionless mask hiding a still human interior. Arlston fingered his shirt where it covered his long ragged abdominal scar. The oldest one among the dozens that crisscrossed his upper body. It had happened again, he had lost another family.

What did he do wrong? How did this happen? What would happened now? Arlston sat silent and solitary on his bed in the keep, in the darkest, smallest room that he had chosen in the home of the Pillar, and fingered the tabard emblazoned with the Pillar of Honor’s mark.

For the first time since losing his parents, his first family, Arlston wept…

((RP story to figure out what i'm planning to do with Arlston, feel free to jump in on it or just follow along. Sad to say there's a very high chance of him leaving the Pillar to seek out a new family. So if you see him acting weird IC-ly that's why. Can't wait to see where this goes.))

"Has anyone seen Arlston lately?" Gentyl asked.

The Guards in the great room looked up and then around at each other. To a man, they shook their heads.

"Is something wrong?" Celandine asked.

"No, I just haven't seen him in a while. I'm getting a bit concerned. I think he and Cyrus had words."

"Cyrus has words with everyone, Sepha," Cray responded.

"Aye, well, keep an eye out for Arlston."

A relatively young druid watched Arlston a few times. He was quiet like she was. Masked physically and emotionally to the world around him. The few times he attempted to reach out, her business at the garrison or in Hyjal caused to her dart.

Though, she never quite got to inform him that he didn't drive her away.

Her life had been turned upside-down as of late. It was time for her to go back to old habits. Watching and listening.

Perhaps trying to convince him to come to a dinner at the garrison. He already had friends there. Even if they spent more time with the Auberdine refugees than her friends at the garrison.

Cray did not like to let his concern for his friend show to the Sepha, and it was not unlike Arlston to vanish... something was off. Despite the clouds in his own mind, Cray could tell this disappearance was different somehow. Different from the coma, different from the missions. There had not been as much warning, somehow, as Arlston's missions. And, yet, it had not been so sudden as the coma.

After leaving Gentyl's office, Cray wrapped his knuckles on the door to Finnaeus' room. He had an unofficial assignment for the Silent Guard -- he hoped that Finn and the others would be able to find someone just as silent as they.

Arlston picked up his numerous pouches and bags, and arranged them comfortably on his leather harnesses attached to his armor. Stooping briefly, he checked the wide array of knives hidden on his person, thinking quietly to himself.

Live to fight another day, or die.

It would be decided just like that. This mission would be one more test just like all those that came before. This one was particularly risky, and he felt the sad, yet calculating eyes of Master Shaw on his back again. The head of Stormwind Intelligence loathed giving out the orders that Arlston always accepted, and in fact, relished to chance to carry out.

Glancing down at the encoded page on the table, the only words that stood out to his eyes were ones he was used to. Words he lived by.

"Agent Cross: High risk, low chance of survival. You know your duty, but come back alive lad."

Well, perhaps his troubles would be over soon. Master Cross knew, that he wouldn't come back. Maybe he'd join the shadow that hid his fellows. He wondered if he'd be remembered by anyone, then shook his head, clearing the thought.

If anybody remembered Arlston, he had failed.

Walking slowly out of the front gates of Stormwind, nobody noticed the quiet young traveler, loaded with baggage for an extended trip into the world. Nobody paused to glance at the masked man, who looked so ordinary despite hiding his face. Nobody thought twice about another traveler leaving the city...

Nobody except a young boy, who wondered why a full grown man, would toss a black notebook into the Valley of Heroes moat. "Silly thing to do", the boy thought before turning back to his gazing up at Turalyon's statue, and thinking about a true hero.

^^^
((Trying to see how this goes. Arl's going on a trip, feel free to try and follow him, there will be a few surprises set up for certain people should they try to follow the story, and lots of sneakery. Letters will *Shudder* be involved. If you want to figure out Arl's future and where he'll wind up, alive or dead, feel free to involve yourself, but if not i'll keep you updated here on the forums.

((Cool. we will set the Silent Guard on it.))

It was odd, or maybe not so odd, that the red raptor Dustwing had taken in years ago liked swimming. After all, she was a Blade's Edge raptor, living for most of her life in mountains that got less water each moon than a cupful from the Stormwind Harbor.

Now she played in thousands of times that amount. Siaki poked her head up out of the Stormwind moat and snorted at Dustwing. The night elf barely paid her a second glance, re-baiting his fishing hook.

"What is it, Siaki?"

The raptor yowled.

"No, you can't."

The raptor wrinkled her nose in a very human-like way and dived under the water again. Dustwing had a few minutes of peace until she resurfaced beside him, holding something in her mouth.

"What's that?"

Siaki clawed out onto the shore and shook herself. Dustwing didn't even flinch as she came up beside him and spit out something black and wet on his right boot. She chortled at him excitedly.

"No, you can't keep it."

The raptor drooped visibly, and continued to "talk". The night elf listened with half a long ear, and at the end of the tirade, said simply, "I don't care. Put it back where you found it."

With an irritable lash of her tail, the raptor snapped the notebook back up. As she turned, she noticed Dustwing's pack propped up against a tree.

A few thoughts went through her head:

Things that went into the satchel eventually came back out again.

Her master carried the satchel everywhere.

Therefore, if she put the notebook in the satchel, her master would take a better look at it later, when he was not so grumpy.

Feeling proud of herself and her logic, the raptor snuck up to the satchel and slipped the notebook inside. When Dustwing called, she hopped into the moat again with a big splash. Thoughts of water chased out the thoughts of the notebook.

Overall, life was good.

((I jumped on this, but if someone else wanted the notebook, let me know! Accidents do happen after all, and certain raptors can be very air-headed...))

It was cold as the armored trapper rode through the Alterac Mountains, his faithful steed Noayeh trudging through the snow-shod road of the once well respected kingdom. His friend Slyfur followed along quietly, long tail bristling in the biting cold as his eyes scanned the landscape around him; this was not a welcoming land.

Welcoming or not, the task had to be done. The trapper and bard Emarn Strahn dismounted from his horse as he neared the broken town of Strahnbrad. The torn village was still occupied by the rather unruly Syndicate, but Emarn knew if he was quiet enough, he could slip in without causing too much of a ruckus.

He decided the town hall would be a good place to start, as it was a place that just might have a copy of the tome he was searching for. What tome that was, he honestly didn't know. Though he was told what Alterac Vinesmans script was, from the explanation thereafter it seems only the vintners and farmers knew what the flowery wording meant. Which means that noblemen and, by extension their bases of operation such as town halls, might not contain what he searched for. Still, it was a place to start, and he could always search the other homes if necessary.

Entering the town from behind the forge, he moved close to the walls and observed his surroundings. Most of the Syndicate seemed to be hiding inside the buildings and, so long as he was quick, he would not be noticed. He checked once more to make sure no one was looking out a window or doorway before making a dash for the city hall.

Luckily, he was not noticed. He ducked to the pillar at the steps and glanced inside the city hall; there was a single magus watching the entrance, and he knew she would call an alarm were he to be seen. He whistled softly and motioned for Slyfur to react. The beast knew his master's intention and howled loudly in front of the door before dashing off. As the magus moved to follow the annoying creature, Emarn slammed her over the head with the butt of his rifle. The woman fell without so much as a yelp; she'd be down for a while, but not long. He hurried inside.

Entering the town hall he realized how foolish he was to think even a paper would have survived scourge incursion. The hall was barren, save for a few broken tables and chairs. He frowned to himself before moving outside to examine his surroundings. He then chuckled to himself and quickly snuck his way over to the small farmhouse near the withered earth. If the writers were vintners, then their home would be where the tome might hide.

Fortunately, he was right. A single musty ledger sat on the floor, and opening it revealed a small list of occupants and farmers that lived in Alterac at the time, tilling, milling or winemaking for their future. Emarn nodded at this and turned to leave, comming face to face with a Syndicate shadowguard.

Reacting out of instinct, he pulled out his rifle and fired a single shot just as the woman approached with drawn blades. She fell to the ground shoulder pierced, while cries eruped from Strahnbrad. They would investigate. He quickly ran to where Noayeh was tied and cut the rope, mounting his steed and urging it forward, Slyfur dashing close behind.

In a few moments he left the city behind, safe, using the roads to avoid the marauding ogres and bears that dotted the ruins. He had the ledger; hopefully it would guide them. Hopefully.

Celandine found herself tacking a copy of a letter to the wall of the Blue Recluse. It read as follows:

To the patrons of the Recluse.
You've been kind, continue your pursuit of the Light and protect those that cannot shelter themselves.

May the innocent find shelter beneath your incredible courage.
~AC
<There is a small scribble at the bottom.>
The key in letters will be forgotten, even when hidden in itself.
<Follows are a strange sequence of random letters and symbols. It looks like a cipher of some sort.>

A gnome had found a sheaf of copies of the letter, given them to her, and she had called members of the Presidium to help puzzle out what it meant. Emarn and Gentyl supposed that the A of "A.C" might stand for Arlston, a fellow whom Celandine had never met. They pondered the meaning of the cipher. Frazzbolt soon rejoined them. He seemed to recognize the code, calling it Alterac Vinesman's Script, a secret language the g*@!# farmers in Alterac had developed to hide communications from the nobles. Erelyn noted over the guild Hearthstone that the famous Gypsy Suni knew more about the mysterious Arlston, and when asked by Emarn, Erelyn managed to find her and send her to the Recluse.

Suni attested to Arlston's character, stating that he had been a member of the Pillar of Honor, and when he had injuries treated he seemed skittish.

After a bit more discussion and conjecture, Celandine decided to post the letter to the wall just as one comes in to the Recluse, in case any other patrons could come forward with more information. She wrote down her own name, Sepha Gentyl's name, and Suni's name as contacts.

The young elf only stared at her hearthstone as she heard the mumbled farewell.

"Arl..." She thought. She'd grown used to farewells such as these. Arlston Cross had never been much of a talker. But something about this farewell seemed different. The elf could sense that this goodbye was, in Arlston's mind, nothing short of permanent.

Tyrynna threw her Guildstone to the ground in a fit of anger. "Hell with this!" she yelled. Amidst the swirling typhoon of anger that was common to the elf's mind, the lone thought within questioned where Arlston, her friend and guildmate, could have gone to.

With a sigh, Tyrynna forced her anger down. "If I cant contact him through my stone," She thought, "I'll just have to improvise." She lifted the thin Truesilver circlet off her head, and her eyes emitted the faintest of a red glow as she closed them.

Arlston, where are you?

The thought was like a whisper, unheard by the people around her. Yet, miles away, wherever he was, one would hear the whisper in the back of his mind.

The thought reached Arlston. But gained no response.

Clenching her fist, Tyrynna attempted again to reach him.

And again, no response was received.

Tyrynna cursed. "I should've known it wouldn't be so easy," she muttered. She set the circlet back around her head and picked up the somehow undamaged Guildstone. And yet, despite her rage, the huntress stood proud and tall, a new journey unfolding before her eyes.

"Well, Arlston," she said with a smirk. "If you wont yet me contact you, I'll just have to find you the old fasioned way."

Cray shook his head as he stared into the open weapons chest in his bedroom. He stared past the swords and axes, their glinting metal invisible to his eye.. No, his entire intention focused on the bottle of wine.

He knew he should not have purchased it -- but after the Regent Tenwit had practically forced the taste of the drink back upon his tongue... Not forced. Repeatedly and firmly offered. The "no" had always been there, but Cray had left it untouched... much, fortunately, like this bottle.

He hadn't even opened it, simply stashed it in the bottom of the chest. And there it remained. Taunting him.

There was so much going on about him, and he could feel the strain. He was faltering again. He'd faltered before, but this time was different. He had an Order about him -- the Sepha Gentyl, Taelanas... any one of the Presidium he could turn to. Even his squires would be more than happy.

But he didn't want help. He wanted to give the damn bottle to a friend, outside the order, who would keep it a secret and not worry so much about it. And where was Arlston anyways? That worry -- along with the worries of the enemies it seemed were amassing against the Presidium -- heightened his anxiety.

He slammed the lid shut. The taunting glass tinkled ever so slightly against the sharp blades that surrounded it -- though perhaps, the wine was the deadliest thing in that chest.

Tyr sat on the edge of the white stone wall, overlooking the Earthshrine. She rolled her shoulders, having become unused to being out of her armor. Thoughts of her missing friend had once again flooded her mind.

Arlston Cross.

She cursed loudly in Darnassian. The Truesilver circlet she always wore was sitting in her hands as she tried desperately to make contact with her guildmate. And yet, no matter how many times she tried, her attempts anded in failure, as they had always.

She thought back to the conversation from the hour earlier, when she had met with the paladin known as Cray.

"What!?" She gasped at the Presidium soldier. "You know something about him?" She saw a glimmer of hope that maybe, despite all her hatred for the Pia Presidium, that with them lay valuable information to the whereabouts of her guildmate.

Then came the anger when the human gave his reply.

"Afraid not. I was actually hoping you knew something."

The conversation ran its course once again in her head. Both parties were obviously irate about the situation, and with each other outside event prodding at one of them, both seemed to be made more exasperated, as the elf saw it. She honestly thought it miraculous that the encounter didn't end in argument, considering everything that ate at her, and, despite all of her capabilities, she couldn't even begin to imagine what could be going through Cray Auchtin's mind.

The conversation reached its end.

The two exchanged names and agreed to share their information with each other should they find any. But Tyrynna wasn't satisfied in the slightest. Bad enough she trusted her brothers dirty laundry more than the Presidium anyway, and she certainly didn't trust some random Pia menber she didn't know who, likewise without knowing who she was, thought to contact her only through tabard. Doubts swirled around the young elf's head.

With a sigh, Tyrynna clutched the circlet and attempted once more.

Arlston, can you hear me? Where are you?

The thought gained no response.

In anger, she threw the thin yet sturdy band to the stone at her feet. She didn't care if her mental "gift" spiraled out of control, as it often did without the circlet's protection. Rage had overcome, such as it hasn't done to her in the longest time, not since she joined the Pillar of Honor, even.

The world was getting to her finally. Arlston was only one of her troubles, despite her worry.
One thought isolated itself:

I want it to end... When will the nightmare be over...?

In her anger, Tyrynna Stormshade screamed.

Frazzbolt had been puttering about his secret lab, smelling vats of various chemicals, concoctions, and pastes. Making checkmarks on his magically conjured tablet, and idly chatting with Spritzer.

"No no no, this one is supposed to taste like heckleberry! HECKLEBERRY! Otherwise the taste throws off the consistency and the bonding won't work! Now where did I put the oth-HEY! Spritzer! Stop him! He's making a break for it again!"

*Frazzbolt flung himself across the room to stop the six inch tall Hair Knight from leaving the room. "I knew it was a mistake to make you!" The diminutive pair wrestled and struggled as chemicals and Unholy Hair Coils went flying around the lab. All while Spritzer continued showering his latest pet squirrel with water and bubbling happily.

It was not until after the fight had ended, the triumphant Frazzbolt placing the tiny hair monstrosity back in it's cage, that he noticed the young man bleeding on his floor.

Instinct kicked in, and Frazz rushed to acquire as many samples from the young man as possible. Tweezers flying, he snatched hair, skin flakes, fingernail clippings, sweat, saliva and nose juice. Once that was done, all materials squared away, he immediately set to applying his quick clotting paste, with the added benefit of curing acne! Once the paste had begun to fizzle and pop did the young man slowly open his eyes and stare down Frazzbolt soundlessly.

Not for the first time, Frazzbolt felt terrified, how could a living being undergo such obvious agony, and not make a peep!? The silent stare didn't help either, the man was positively cold and intimidating. The young human, and the erratic gnome sat there on the floor staring at each other. Only the sounds of Spritzers happy bubbles and the Hair Knight's futile struggles breaking the silence.

"Y-Y-You're a Pillar member? Good people them, except for the crazy elf who scares the %!!*ens out of me." Frazz said finally, wearing a large warm smile. The man stared impassively making no attempt to respond. The stare was unnerving, it felt like being measured inside and out. Like the young man could see through him. A terrifying thought.

"I-I-I-I'll just get back to work then, feel free to stay as long as you'd like. You're injured after all!"
Frazzbolt turned back to work, feeling the cold stare on the back of his neck, and shivering slightly.

"Oh, by the way..." Frazz turned to address the young man, but there was one problem...

He was gone. Leaving only a bloody puddle and a few silver coins where he had been.

Startled senseless, fifteen minutes passed of forcing Spritzer to comb the lab looking for him unsuccessfully, Frazzbolt emerged from the cauldron he had hidden inside.

"Strange fellow." Frazz breathed, and sat down on a nearby chair, to his dismay crushing the fudge sent to him by a friendly seamstress. Squealing with dismay, he immediately tried to salvage the fudge, but failed. "Oh well, seems I have a letter to write."

Conjuring a pen and paper from nowhere, Frazzbolt penned a quick letter to Elenwyn. Mentioning the strange man in passing, and requesting more fudge.

Frazzbolt had re-emerged after a long absence. There were also rumors Arlston had been seen. She'd put some men on it. Unfortunately, Finn was still locked up in a cell in the keep. Cray and Desmend, perhaps. She had to know what was going on.

Tyr sat on the roof of the Blue Recluse, hell of a hangover pounding in her head. Thoughts of Rhoest in tears and dead children and idiots at the War Council buzzed about in her mind.

To say the least, she'd not had the best night.

Something else was nagging at her though. The mysterious letter (She was not happy about the way this "Frazzbolt" had insulted the Pillar), the murmurings over the guildstone, moreover, the person who the stone belonged to.

Arlston. Arlston was back. And in a LOT of trouble.

Tyr was worried about her friend and guildmate, to say the least. However, between everything that had gone on and will continue to, she couldn't decide what was really important.

"Arlston," she mumbled, "you chose the WORST time to show back up."

She sighed and lifted her circlet off her head for a brief moment. She tried to contact her guildmate, but as it every other time, it was of no use.

Though she did receive quite a painful backlash. It wasn't from the hangover, for sure. Wherever Arlston was, he was in great pain. She knew it.

Sighting, Tyr set the circlet back on her head.

"Seems like I'll be having to have a...CHAT with a few people."

It seems friends come in all shapes and sizes.

During the latest torture session, some strange visitors had slipped in. Squirrels. Glowing eyed squirrels.

While not one to be surprised often, Arlston was intrigued. The apothecary across the room was taking a break, it seems his flaying arm was getting tired, so he was exchanging it for a fresh one. The squirrels began working on his bonds, chewing through solid steel! Arlston suspected the pain was causing this delirium.

The explosion, however jolted him back to reality. Looking across the room to the smouldering remains of the apothecary, Arlston seized the initiative.

Shrugging off his bonds, and darting awkwardly into the shadows, another of his tiny rescuers waited, supplying Arlston with a shiv and freeing him of his bonds.

Silently thanking whoever had sent them, Arlston limped through the shadows.

He was not done here...

The elf sat on the right hand staircase in the Blue recluse, as she usually did. However, though she was usually observing the goings on with a watchful eye, now, she was drinking her guts out.

She'd come across Cross today. Arlston Cross, who she'd considered one of her closest friends in the Pillar. One who'd been missing for months now, and just the previous night, she'd risked her life to save.

Now he was gone. He was leaving the Pillar. For good. He returned his tabard, with few words spoken. Tyrynna had asked him to keep the hearthstone, however, incase he'd ever needed her. Or, so she hoped, that he'd return one day.

She expected to be angrier about the whole situation, yet it didn't surprise her.

But still, she was saddened. As much as the Pillar had grown back, it wasn't the Pillar she'd joined all those months ago.

Now, with Arlston gone, it was barely the same.

Tyr stared into her bourbon mug. For a moment, she took off her circlet and closed her eyes. She thought to her friend, despite the phrase being one of the few actually spoken with words.

Take care, Arlston.

With a sad smile, she returned to her drink, drowning the sorrows of a family fallen apart.

((This is a brilliantly-written series of posts, but...wow, is it ever sad. ><; I mean that in a good way, though! It really latches on to the reader, and the last few posts especially come across very emotionally-charged and strong. Well-written, well done.))

((This is a brilliantly-written series of posts, but...wow, is it ever sad. ><; I mean that in a good way, though! It really latches on to the reader, and the last few posts especially come across very emotionally-charged and strong. Well-written, well done.))

((Thank you! I always try to write as emotionally gripping as I can. To get inside the minds of the characters to really understand the scene.))