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(Please keep OOC comments out of this thread, thanks for your interest)

Journal of Karamia Dawnstrike

I went into the tavern in Shattrath and was surprised to see so few concerned about the demon threat. Most shrugged it off as being normal for this ravaged world. I find it unusual to see such apathy. But my thoughts are banished when I feel the sensation of impending doom.

She walked right into the door and smiled at me, crooking her finger and beckoning me to follow her. I will end her...but I cannot do anything in the city. The peacekeepers will not allow anyone to fight inside the gates.

If anyone finds this, I am going after Viragona. If I do not survive, know that I expect the Fellowship to continue. Be strong, be faithful, be valorous, be loyal, and most of all love each other.

The woman with the brown hair waited at the zeppelin station in Ogrimmar. A forsaken clattered into place beside her, dropping to the platform to pull a ticket from his bag.

“This is heading for Tirisfal?” he asked in a hollow voice.

The woman nodded and glanced at him curiously. She had seen him before… in the Cleft of Shadows, but then most undead looked alike. Another rogue on loan from the Undercity, she decided as the zeppelin came into view. The two boarded the zeppelin and once loaded, the great ship took off for its journey across the sea.

New entry in a plain brown leather journal

Once again, I have demonstrated that I perhaps am not cut out for zeppelin riding. Again, I was quite sick for the first few hours. I am feeling better now, having purged the contents of my stomach. I threw away the food that I had and bought some bread from the goblins—it is about all I think I can stomach at the moment. It is strange that sometimes I am sick on flights while other times I am perfectly fine. I need to figure out what is different between the two—perhaps it is something that I ate before hand? Not certain but I will mull it over.

The trail on the warlock has gone cold again. The few leads that I had did not root anything out and for the moment, everything is in the wind again. I will admit that I am struggling with this one, something that I am not used to. Hopefully Mia has found something and will report back soon… I have not heard from her in some time so I am getting a little concerned.

I found a paladin in the Eversong Woods—Trulan—who will inquire with his Order about Aranthil. They won’t speak with me on my own; I am far too much of a no body to warrant their concern, but another member of their order will garner their attention. Hopefully they may be able to shed some light on him, but I am not entirely positive that they will be able to do much. At the very least, they may be wondering why he hasn’t checked in. Another paladin on our side in this matter would not be bad, either.

As for me at the moment, I have been given a new assignment that will take me into the Ghostlands in search of some missing retainers that are being held by the trolls and I have a fresh lead there. I am heading there tomorrow in hopes of a successful rescue and while I do feel bad about putting aside the search for the warlock, I cannot put aside the needs of others in favor of chasing a trail that is all but frozen. Once I have (hopefully) seen the missing retainers to safety, I will start back on the trail again—perhaps this time with better luck.

(This is unsigned.)

The thief in the crypt

Feeling very pleased with himself, he entered the crypt. His footsteps echoed softly within the tomb. With each step he disturbed more dust. He adjusted his hooded cloak so as to wrap some cloth around his mouth and nose. He had descended the third flight of stairs before he could hear the sound of someone else moving about. He crept in silence past piles of bones to the final stair way. Candle light flickered in the room below. He waited.

The thief in the room below was muttering to himself as he shifted crate after crate. He appeared to be logging the contents of each crate in a ledger on the table. With his back turned away from the entrance to the room he knelt down to dig through the next crate.

Ceasing the moment the man atop the stairs drew his dagger from his side and lunged for the thief below. With one arm wrapped around the thief and the other holding the daggers blade to his throat the man spoke into his ear “So this is where you have been hiding, is it?” The only sound the thief made was a large gulp and he swallowed in fear. The two of them slowly rose together. “You haven’t been doing too badly now have you?” the man said as he glanced about the room. There were shelves of old ledgers similar to the one lying open on the table. The thief was silent yet again. “Now, no need to be shy, I’m not here to kill you. On the contrary, I’m here to collect what you have taken from me and in exchange for your life I want.” He paused and waived his hand gesturing to the room “A cut of this business you’re running.”

With that the thief seemed to have regained his tongue as he cried out “Never!” and elbowed the man’s gut freeing himself from his grasp. Staggering backwards the man replied “Fine have it your way.” He lunged towards the thief as books were thrown at him. Dodging side to side trying to get close enough for a kill. A book hit his side and in doing so had tapped the communication stone contained within his pocket.

The once loose pages containing Quillathe’s thoughts and designs had now been bound in a poorly made journal of parchments and leather scraps. The most recent entry was dated for a few weeks ago.

My bat had just landed within Undercity when I heard a thud, followed by another. I looked all around me and although there were others moving about it did not explain the sounds I was hearing. I shook it off... I have spent too long with my senses on alert, trying to hear even the smallest sound while tracking that thief.

As I wondered about the city I heard the shuffling of feet behind me, turning to see who was following me I found that I was in an empty corridor without a soul in sight. Crouching to feel the vibrations of the floor and watch the dust for my unseen stalker. There was nothing, no signs of movement what-so-ever yet they were behind me once again. How could they have gotten behind me without my notice? Spinning to face the noises only cause my paranoia to spread ‘I was surrounded by invisible beings who shuffled closer and closer to me’

I checked myself into the local inn to lie down. Rest! That’s what I needed to shake this feeling I’d had since arriving in Undercity. I dropped my bags by the door and went to bed. I feel asleep surprisingly fast despite my paranoid state. I was woken by a cry of pain from the door. I grabbed my dagger from the bedside and leapt to aid the man in pain. But upon opening the door I found that no one was there. Had it been a dream? I slowly closed the door and I tried to remember if I had woken before the scream had ended or not.

While standing their near the door I heard it as clear as day “Where is it!? I has to be in here somewhere” followed by the thudding of books being knocked from a table and echoing as they hit the floor. Reaching down to the bag at my feet I reached into the pocket to find a glowing communication stone which was now sending out the sounds of crates being broken. I clicked it off and the stone ceased to glow.

Day 7 of the month of Health

This pathetic excuse of a paladin is hopelessly entangled. She grows weaker in Faith as well as body. I will not keep her alive much longer. The torture and the slow leaching of her soul is taking its toll.

Aran continues to surprise me. He shows signs of rebellion, perhaps my hold on him is slipping? I have asked him to guard Karamia, he tries to heal her and keep her alive. I wonder if his efforts will allow her to be rescued in time. It is amusing to me to see them scramble to find me. I have moved us all back to Silverpine.

Confusion reigns! I am having too much fun with this!

A simple leather bound journal:

My trainers seem genuinely impressed with my skills. If they only knew. I practice late into the night, when no one else is about. I must be the best that I can be and acquire the best training I can find.

I have accomplished several small contracts this morning. And I have found that word of my skills is spreading. All is going as planned, I must continue to improve my skills, and find bigger and better contracts.

I made contact with the guild in which I inquired about. And was accepted within their ranks. I have even signed up for my first guild meeting tomorrow. Hopefully I will meet with some of my new "guildmates" and find a common bond with them.

The evening has moved into early morning. Need to stretch myself, and practice some of the new moves and skills I learned today. I will be the best I can be - there will be none better!

A simple leather bound journal:

The training has paid off. The skills I have put into practice, have actually saved my life several times. I feel invincible. But I know better, and must take the contracts seriously each and every time.

I have become involved with the infamous "Scar" that mars our beautiful land. The undead must be eliminated, and the Scourge removed from our lands. They are a blight and it sickens me to see them here. My hope is that more contracts bring me here to eradicate these filthy undead creatures.

On a different note, I have met with several of my fellow Fellowship members. They are a diverse group of people, and I find them fascinating. It was interesting to put a face to some of the voices I hear over the stone. And many of them are so beautiful! I was awestruck with the uniqueness of each and every one of the ladies I met. I laugh even now over one of the ladies I met. Her character, while caustic and sarcastic, seems to endear her to those she knows and loves. All and all, a most satisfying moment.

I cannot allow myself to become too involved with them. I must carry on in the direction I have pointed myself. No one can can sway me, and distract me. I will continue with my nightly stretching and skill practicing, for I find it has kept me on top of my game. I can not expect any less of myself, but the best of myself.

The forsaken shuffled along the dreary halls that characterized the Undercity. His seemingly unsteady gate, rattle of bones and dislocated lower jaw melted together to form a rather bizarre and macabre visage. He made his way over a grey stone bridge decorated with skulls and bones that spanned over a green river of alchemical sewage. The stench rising up from the calm, murky substance choked many. He continued on unaffected by the bilious odor and worked his way to a shadowed alcove.

“She isn’t happy.” The voice spoke from the darkness and the forsaken simply shrugged. “You won’t get paid unless you are able to deliver… I still get mine whether you are paid or not!”

Again, the forsaken shrugged. His handler was often uptight and had very little patience. He, however, had quite a bit and in his line of work, patience was not only a virtue, it was critical.

“Do not worry about my ability to take care of matters,” he spoke in a hollow voice. “Patience, my friend, patience.”
***

New entry in a plain brown leather journal

The Ghostlands is aptly named. Glowing fungi dot the landscape and the trees seem to have faces. The wildlife had a washed out—ghostly—appearance and even the flowers took on an otherworldly glow. I was forever with the feeling that I was being watched but unable to locate anything or anyone trailing me. It was quite unnerving to constantly look over my shoulder thinking that I should be ready to fight… I admit that that is a blow to my ego. I would like to think that my nerves are far steadier than that, but perhaps not.

It didn’t help matters that I was ill for the first day and a half of travel. All I wanted to do was find a comfortable spot to curl up and sleep until whatever affliction was over, but unfortunately, I had to find the retainers taken by the trolls.

When I returned to Silvermoon with the aforementioned retainers, I was feeling much better. I am not certain if I am prone to food poisoning or not—I can’t remember (insert irony here)—but these past few weeks have been rather hard. Perhaps I am just getting worn down from my constant travels and need to take some time off. Unfortunately, time off doesn’t pay anything. I do have a little money saved so at least I won’t be hungry or without a room to sleep in when I do take a break.

But no breaks right now. Another lead on the warlock is taking me to Silverpine Forest. I am not confident that this will turn out to be anything, but I feel that I should follow up on it. Mia is still missing—I really wish that she had spoken to someone in the Fellowship about where she was going. I told Agrith’al and Bailey that I was headed to Silverpine so if I don’t return, they at least know where to start looking.

Perhaps after I chase down this lead, I will retire to the countryside in the Eversong Wood for a few days and do absolutely nothing but sit by my favorite waterfall. Of course, that will all depend on where the lead takes me, if anywhere.

(This is unsigned.)

A simple leather bound journal:

I have trained myself to be a killing machine. I have slain many foes on several fields of combat. but tonight, I was mortally wounded from behind by a wretched nightelf. May she rot forever. They thought to bind me, and keep me as a prisoner, or a pet, (who knows what goes on in their minds). But I worked myself free from their simple knots, and managed to drag myself away from their camp. A minor victory.

I'm weakened in body and soul at the moment. I find myself feeling sorry for myself. And it is not a feeling I want to nurture.

I have pulled myself up from the gutter, and found myself able to accomplish whatever I set my heart and mind to. I will not allow this...this...minor set back to dictate to me what I will become. I am who I am, because of what I want to be, and I will reach my goal, and I will be victorious!

These Ghostlands have taught me one thing...caution. I must be ever vigilant and aware of my surroundings at all time. For I will not have a repeat of what happened today. And I pity the poor nightelf that should ever, and I do mean EVER crosses my path again.

The leather cover is black, it appears to have been intentionally dyed, for the inside cover is still a dull white. The wear and tear of its owner's lifestyle has left its mark on the thick book. Pieces of paper and other small mementos peep out of the pages, and a piece of soap on a rope hangs from the binding as a bookmark.

Kel'tira Sunblaze

How is it that all of the events of my life must happen in the span of a month?

I marry, and a week later, my parents are both dead.

Light...

(Tears smudge the page, and the words are barely legible)

Mother... Father... I am so sorry it took this long to come back to you... And now, after I had forgiven you, and you me, why does it have to end this way?? Why?

How can we justify pain and loss? With war? Love? We can kill again, or go free and live our lives, accepting what we have seen and felt, accepting what once was may no longer be. We can live with the fact that the fire of our spirits may be extinguished before the next dawn. We can try to accept that our loved ones may never see another day...

I ask myself, sometimes, why we keep on. Why we do not simply give up. Why we persevere through the pain and the misery. And I always end up at the same answer.

Hope.

Hope for tomorrow, hope for the ones we love, hope that somehow, someway, by some twist of fate, we will do something big with our lives. Something that will be remembered.

Faith.

Faith in ourselves, faith in the ones we love, faith that somehow, somewhere, someone loves us back. Faith that we are more than we seem.

Love.

Love for life, love for our family and friends, love of the way things once were, and the way they could be.

Hope. Faith. Love.

To some extent, the three things that keep us going, some people are just plain stubborn, as I am. As Tyrael seems to be.

Mother and Father have always had my respect, and their funeral was as it should be, dignified. The Sunblaze house will mourn, but at the same time, my house must step forward into the world. We must not fall.

I fear that I am not strong enough to lead them, but I will try.

For Kier'ali and Liannea Sunblaze.

New entry in a plain brown leather journal

There are five of us now, down from seven. Tutoring in the common tongue continues and I am left wondering what we are being groomed for and just how many of us they will need. Part of me thinks that I need to fail in my next endeavor, but with reconnaissance work, failure usually means death at the hands of the people I am spying on. Needless to say, I am not ready to lie down in an unmarked grave as of yet.

One good thing about being a rogue is that we are very good at not being noticed—even without using stealth. I have learned how to stand in the middle of a crowd, listening and watching, but few people would even remember that I was there.

The woman with the brown hair looks up from the journal that she is writing in and turns her gaze to a male blood elf standing some distance away, looking through a bag and seemingly oblivious to the woman watching him. The green gaze turns slightly wistful as she watches for a moment, then turns back to writing in her journal.

I know that watching someone from afar is probably considered the worst of manners but I can hope that if he notices that he won’t think me a complete cad. I don’t even know his name—I haven’t worked up the courage to ask him and I have not heard him mention it when I pass by.

The woman looked up at the blood elf again and she slowly tilted her head to one side as she seemed to be considering something. She went back to writing.

I really do not have anything to offer him—or anyone—for that matter. No house, no home… no memories of my childhood to share. My former life is lost in a fog, my current life is played out by being invisible—a ghost—and I think that I shall pass from this world without being noticed. Such is the life of someone whose role it is to be unseen—to slip in and slip out without anyone ever knowing that I was there.

I suppose the people that I have rescued may remember me—the woman dressed in leathers who can pick locks and knock captors unconscious. I have made a positive impact in the lives of several people and that is something that will let me rest well at night.

The woman looked up as the male blood elf turned and walked away. She gently blew on the page to help the ink dry before closing the leather bound book. She tucked the book into her bag before rising to her feet. Night was falling quickly around Ogrimmar and the woman with the brown hair slipped quietly into the shadows and faded from sight.

Day 9 of the month of Health

Karamia hangs on by a mere thread, I know not how she does it, what hope does she have of being rescued? Perhaps it is the Light and Aranthil. The constant pain will take it's toll. Even if she is rescued in time to save her live and soul, her mind will never be the same. Fear will stalk her nightmares and she will trust no one. Her use of the Light will be severely hampered by a lack of faith. I can see the effects now as I taste her anguished soul.

The shackles I have bound her with are made of the fel touched metal only warlocks can use. It keeps her from casting anything as well as binding her wrists and ankles to the wall. Today I will see if Aranthil will continue to obey me. I will ask him to do things to her...perhaps he will, if he does not, the demons will. He may try and help her by healing her, but he cannot touch her mind. In her current state she will trust no one, especially someone of the Light.

How delightful to me to do this to one who has shunned users of the Shadow. She will learn who is more powerful. I must seek others of my kind and form a pact. To gain power I must rely on others of greater power to help me. Through mutual agreement, we all gain power...though only one will be powerful enough to control them all.

A tome of deep purple sealed with magic is filled with Lillisarei's writings. The book is her private thoughts and musings.

This has been a most confusing day. I seldom see my lover, Ikthael, but I hold him in my heart. I pray the life that grows in side of me will see my sweet Ikky and I married and settled in Silvermoon. I am planning a simple wedding. We will wait until Mia is safe and Aranthil is returned to us.

I feel the others are still so involved in their own problems we all fail to see the wisdom in helping each other. I still see each of them as often as I can, it is good to make sure the Fellowship stays together. In unity there is strength.

The worry over Karamia is stressing out all of the Fellowship. The hunt continues, we have a lead on some kind of warlock presence in the area of Silverpine. I pray we find Mia soon, and restore her to the Halls. I wish Tyrael was not so stubborn. I am not sure he really cares if Mia is brought back to us or not.

The leather cover is black, it appears to have been intentionally dyed, for the inside cover is still a dull white. The wear and tear of its owner's lifestyle has left its mark on the thick book. Pieces of paper and other small mementos peep out of the pages, and a piece of soap on a rope hangs from the binding as a bookmark.

Kel'tira Sunblaze

I am not sure what is happening to me. I am losing my mind... I must be. My faith in myself is slipping away... Slowly... Light... What have I done wrong? The Sunblaze house looks to me for guidance, and I fear I have none to give. Perhaps I am paranoid... Perhaps... Light, what have I gotten myself into?

I am afraid... Afraid that one day, things will change. Afraid that one day, I will not have Nic to comfort me. I cannot imagine a world without Nic... Without the people I have come to love and trust. The Fellowship is a large part of who I am, and without them, I am faced with meaningless days.

What is worse, for me, is the idea that, in a matter of days, my fears may be realized. Who would I become without the man I love? Who would I become, without the people I have grown to care about? But really, other than Nic, my husband, I wonder if we are naught but intimate strangers. I wonder if perhaps that is all we will ever be.

Terror has its place in our hearts, but terror leads to action. Fear can be paralyzing, or it can be freeing. Just as love can be both. It is strange to me, that, now, even as I write with a calm and collected mind, my actions of the coming days may endanger my life...

It is, however, what I feel I must do. What I feel I must see through. Malt'ar will die, be it by my hand or another's, but I will see his corpse. The thrice damned rogue will pay for all he has done to me and the ones I love.

Nicias... I still worry about him... I fear that the poison that Malt'ar used on him will have some unforseen set of consequences... Perhaps it is irrational, but I cannot shake the feeling that something more is yet to come.

Auxilia thinks that Malt'ar is hunting me, and likely he is, but... Fel. Who knows?

Right now... I would give anything to have faith in myself again. Nic... I think of the days I can spend with him after this is over, and that is my motivation. But first, Viragona must be dealt with, and Malt'ar must die.

If the rogue does not reveal himself when we confront Viragona... I will hunt him down. He will die. Slowly.

A dark brown leather bound book with intricate scroll work at the corners. The cover reads "My Adventure".

Kally sits upon a stump as the suns rays strengthen and begin to wake the forest.

I awoke today just as the suns rays began to crest the horizon. Today is the day!! I've been planning and preparing for weeks, and today I will begin my adventure. I have no idea where this may take me or whom I might meet in my travels.

I wish there were an easier way to go about this, but I fear my family wouldn't understand. They just don't see, I have no desire to go to the academy like my sister. A different path awaits me....I'm so excited!!

Falconwing Square

It's been quite the day, far more tiring than I expected. It seems there are a number of people that need some form of assistance or another. Everyone has been so grateful they gave me some equipment and in some cases money. Maybe tomorrow will be just as much fun.

New entry

As I was making my way out to see what the day would hold, I was stopped by a fellow Blood Elf. It would seem that my talent with a bow has garnered me some attention. The one who stopped me ask if I'd had any formal training as a hunter, I replied quizzically "No, why do you ask?" He then informed me that he could teach me some things... for a price of course. I figured why not sine I've earned a little bit of money. I can't wait to see how these new skills will aid me in my adventure.

It saddens me to see the scar that has torn through the beautiful countryside. I had heard stories but it's much worse in person. As I was making my way to Silvermoon City, a ranger beckoned me over with utmost urgency. She had enlisted my aide to thin out some undead that were roaming about....time to test my new skills. The first couple were no trouble, however after I attacked the third several others took noticed and began to rush me with a horrible emptiness in their eyes. Luckily Flicker, my dragon hawk companion was with me. He was able to draw their attention away long enough for me to skillfully place volley after volley of arrows in their skulls.

The woman with the brown hair walked into the Silvermoon City Inn. She glanced at a group of three men that were standing near the staircase before she turned and ordered a glass of wine from the innkeeper. A glass of white wine was placed on the counter in short order and she slid some coins across the counter.

She glanced back at the group of men, having the uncanny feeling that she was being watched. One of the men—older, well dressed and bearing a distinguished air was openly staring at her, almost to the point of ignoring the other men present. Soon, the other two men started up the stairs leaving the man no choice but to follow.

The woman with the brown hair picked up the wine glass and walked out of the inn to sit down in the shade under a tree.

***
New entry in a plain brown leather journal

I saw the man again—still no memory as to who he is but he certainly seems to know me. All I know I that I am not entirely comfortable around him. As he went up the stairs to the inn, I went outside and didn’t come back in for quite some time.

Now, I am back in Silverpine, chasing down another lead. This time my target is Fenris Isle. I am approaching from the south, using a small inn tucked away in an out of the way place as my base. This is one of the places that I frequent while in the area. It is clean, the owners keep to themselves in the main house and I am usually not bothered by anyone.

The woman with the brown hair sets down the pen and gently blows on the page. After a moment, she shuts the leather bound book and tucks it away in her pack. She gathers her weapons and places a leather mask around her face before walking out the door and melting into the nighttime shadows.

Sometime later, the woman picks up the pen again, this time in Brill, sitting on the hard stone floor of the inn.

I have found them and alerted the others. We have met in here, in Brill, and made our plans. There is a complication though; Malt’ar—the man who tried to poison Nicias—was there. I am concerned that since his attempt on Nicias failed, he is considered another target: Kel’Tira, Nicias’ wife. I told her of my fears, but I didn’t tell her why…

It is what I would do.

I always tell people that my success in what I do come down to three things: my ability to move undetected, my ability to keep momentum when fighting, and my ability to keep secrets. Actually, it is four things: add in the ability to think like my enemy. Admittedly, it is not something to be proud of, but it does help me get the job done.

The leather cover is black, it appears to have been intentionally dyed, for the inside cover is still a dull white. The wear and tear of its owner's lifestyle has left its mark on the thick book. Pieces of paper and other small mementos peep out of the pages, and a piece of soap on a rope hangs from the binding as a bookmark. The drops of water on the pages roll off, and the paper shows no damage for having been immersed completely.

Kel'tira Sunblaze

How well we have succeeded in dealing with the warlock's threat has yet to be seen... Vira is dead, and Mia and Aran are safe, yes, but it does not sit right with me. Mia has not woken yet, and neither has Aran... I worry... Tyrael has gone after Malt'ar, and Cyaer and Kalrei have remained with Mia. Varus and Wyndd were together when last I checked, and Nic... I have no idea where he was yesterday. I need him beside me, badly. I need to feel his arms around me, and have him hold me close. Light... why?

My House is prospering, I realize that really, the Sunblazes are an efficient family, and I have little to do on a day to day basis. I have appointed my uncle to our seat on the council, as he knows much more of politics that I do. He will be our eyes and ears on the council.

Now, I must set my thoughts, and the events of last night, on paper...

Tyrael was angered, and not unreasonably so, seeing the stunt I tried to pull, but still...

Two Elven figures stand across from one, the man on the pegasus speaking with barely controlled rage about plans for the coming attack. Nodding sullenly, the woman turns her charger, walking off a distance and staring at the sky, praying softly. When the man follows her asking what it is that is wrong, she denies anything being amiss, and he chuckles, "That might work with others, but not with me. What is wrong?"

"Half the time I do not know."

They converse, the woman clearly unhappy with the man, and then they turn together, leaving the Forsaken's High Command for Fenris Isle.

It is amusing, I think, to see how things turned out, they started off so well, Aranthil was dealt with with minimal trouble...

A lone paladin face off against two Elves, a rogue lurking behind him, waiting for her chance to strike the corrupted Light-bearer. "Aranthil..." the woman murmurs as the paladin denies access to the keep, "I am sorry."

The man charges, his warrior's blood rising as he lunges forward. Without a second thought, the woman follows, and the rogue strikes. A brief struggle ensues, and the paladin is bound, then knocked out.

Once Aranthil was dealt with, Tyrael and Auxilia went after Malt'ar, and Wyndd and I went after Viragona...

Another female Blood Elf came around the corner of the keep, her eyes glinting as she took in the scene, without a second glance, the first paladin beckoned, and the two women ran into the keep. Pounding up the steps, they slid to a halt as they entered the main room. A woman in the robes of a warlock stood on the dais, facing them, waiting, clearly.

"Viragona! What have you done with the girl?!"

"So... you come to do your vengeance?"

"Aye. Hand the girl over."

And the Malt'ar showed up... Tyrael and Auxilia were supposed to be dealing with him, and instead, he was with Viragona...

Slow clapping fills the room as a tall, handsome Blood Elf left the shadows to grimace sarcastically, "Ah. What a great reunion."

As the warrior and the rogue came around the doorframe, the first paladin resettled her grip on her weapons, preparing to leap into combat, "Go! Get Mia. Auxilia and I shall handle these two. GO!"

Glaring at the warrior who issued the orders, the woman curses at him, "Fine." Spinning and sprinting out of the room, she descended to the basement, searching.

Tyrael failed to deal with Malt'ar, but did manage to kill Viragona. I found Mia, eventually... And Malt'ar had escaped the fight upstairs to follow me...

The young woman in the corner had been abused. Her grim condition left no doubt as to who she could be. "Mia!"

When the man once again left the shadows to place a blade against the unconcious woman's neck, the paladin slid her weapon from her belt and slung her shield onto her arm. The warrior charges down the steps, yelling, "Stop!"

When the female paladin throws up a divine shield around the wounded woman, the warrior prepares to charge, only to be perplexed as the rogue throws a smokebomb, obscuring him as he fades into the shadows.

((1/2))

He spoke to me. There is no doubting that. No one else would be called "sister..."

"I will be watching you, always waiting for the moment to strike! Best be careful... sister." The rogue laughed maniacally, "We will meet again... soon."

As he departed, the group of the warrior, two paladins, a female rogue, and a huntress, gathered around the fallen woman. The two paladins spoke prayers to the Light, their faith healing the fallen woman.

Tyrael took Mia to Silvermoon, and I followed. He vowed to go after Malt'ar, perhaps, in hindsight, he feels he needs to fulfill his promise to me. I am going to cling to that, instead of the other option, which is that he is trying to protect me.

Light... I wish Nic were here...

After a lonely night of little sleep, I dragged myself to Orgrimmar, only to be sent to the docks to leave for Vash'jir. The ship was attacked. The crew was thrown into the water. I was rescued by Erunak of the Earthen Ring. His spell allows me to operate in this foreng environment.

Where is Tyrael now? Malt'ar? An'giel? Wyndd? Cyaer? Kalrei? Varus? Auxilia? Malathir?

Most of all, where is Nic?

I miss him... I need him...

Tyrael was right. My plans were not well laid. And likely, they would have brought about my death.

I realize now that I do not think I am ready to die. Thrice now I have come close to taking my own life. Thrice, I have held a blade, metaphorical or not, to my neck and prayed for strength. Thrice now I have faltered and failed. Either because I was not strong enough, or because someone else intervened.

I will not die. Not now... I cannot leave the Fellowship with no one to balance out Tyrael at times. I cannot leave Nic... I cannot...

I wish Nic were with me... I wish, I wish, I wish...

((2/2))

The woman with the brown hair quietly slipped into the rogue training facilities in Silvermoon City. She had bandages wrapped around her neck; although the wound was mostly healed due to magic, she had been instructed to keep the bandages on to hold in place a salve that would reduce the scarring. It would not prevent the scar.

“Who did you run into?” her mentor eyed the bandages wrapped around her neck.

“An assassin by the name of Malt’ar,” she replied. She offered up a grim smile, “It didn’t go so well.”

Her mentor drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Actually, since you are still alive, I would say it went remarkably well.”

***
New entry in a plain leather bound journal

I have found my limits and at the moment, they seem many. I am not certain how I survived the assassin—even with the healing provided by my comrades, he had me. I should have been dead, but whether it was how I turned my neck and shoulders at the last moment or he simply was distracted, he failed to cut a major artery in my neck.

So I get to live… and I am very lucky to be alive.

In my defense, I didn’t realize that I would take him on by myself—I thought that I would have help from one of my comrades, but he changed his plan at the last moment. I also did not know that I was taking on a master assassin until it was too late to do anything about it. Had I known, I certainly would not have tried to take him on by myself.

The bad news is that he escaped. The good news is that I probably have not made myself a target, but I worry for Kel’Tira. He seemed intent upon her and she left on her own shortly after we finished with the rescues. I can only hope that she went to her husband so she is not alone.

On the bright side, we rescued Mia. She is alive thanks to our healers, but she has a long road ahead of her to recover. We also rescued Aranthil whose condition is still unknown. He is someone else who will have a long road ahead of him…

As for me, I am faced with knowing that my skills in combat are sadly lacking and I need to improve them if I intend to survive. I have come to my mentor for help in finding someone to work with; at the moment, combat is not my forte—stealth is—but I will learn. He has sent word to someone new to take me on—he admitted that this was long overdue. A man called ‘Blacklist’ will be my new mentor and I am now waiting to hear from him when and where we will meet.

(This is unsigned.)

Journal of Karamia

The day dawns and I find myself in a bed. Tended by healers who hover over me. My nightmares continue, fear keeps me from sleeping deeply. Although they thought they had killed Viragona, she still lives.

The tome she carries gives her power over others. But it is limited. This was proven to me when I hear the tale of the battle. She can do great damage in single combat, her power enhanced by the tome. I am afraid that the next ones going after her will have to be prepared. She will gather allies now, for her secret is revealed. She will seek more power...and the more power she gains, the more dangerous she becomes.

I sense a change in Tyrael. He seems more stable and his command is secure. The Fellowship obeys him and follows his orders, with very little question. He was so gentle with me when he awoke me from my dream. I wonder if he knows his touch soothes my tortured soul? I need to give him space...this I know...but my yearning for his touch is driving me crazy. He has told me he cares deeply for me, but he is sometimes so distracted he does not have time for me. My impatience will drive him further away. I must control myself and not smother him.

I fear for Aranthil. His bond to Vira was very strong, he was under her spell...but I wonder if there was more to it? She made him do terrible things, which he did without hesitation. I cannot perceive how the Light still serves him. I must go to him and see if I can help in his recovery. I am stronger today, though I am not sure how far I can go. The healers insist I need time to recover. From a near death I am now walking and eating...but sleep is still filled with nightmares.