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Journal of Karamia

The Fellowship is getting strong, and I feel the days slip by me in a blur of work and tedium. My heart has grown cold within me. I face each day with reluctance and apathy. What has happened to change me? Will I ever feel the joy of life again?

The Hall seems busy enough, Kel'Tira organising the storage. People coming and going looking for more work to do. I try to stay busy, to keep my mind off the recent events. If I do not stop to think of them, perhaps in time I will forget.

I dig for Adamantite and Khorium, it sells well on the market. My jewelcrafting is starting to pay off. Soon I will learn to craft gems and useful items for the Fellowship. I sift through the items I crafted months ago and find a single brilliant gem of aquamarine. It has been crafted into a necklace. Someone told me once my eyes were this color...I cannot remember who it was.

I look in the mirror and see a haggard drawn face looking back at me. The shock of seeing my reflection reminds me of my losses. I have covered the mirror for now....I do not need reminding.

A small leather bound journal:

I went shopping today to update my wardrobe and to seek a new poison for my blades. I...I...oh who am I kidding...she has been in my thoughts all day. Everything seems to be a constant reminder of her smile, her eyes, her lips...what is wrong with me? Have I been under a spell? If so, I...I am not sure I want to be rescued from it. Never have I felt this way.

Oh, come on, Cyaer, think it through - you are a vagabond, a street urchin, a thief...she is a paladin, a paragon of virtue, and good. What could she ever see in you? You are nothing to her, so get it out of your system, and move ahead with your life. You are only setting yourself up to fail if you continue on this track you are on.

And yet...I feel so alive. The air smells fresher, the day seems brighter, the grass greener...life, life feels so good. If I could but catch a simple smile from her lips, I would be in heaven, or perhaps a glance from her beautiful blue eyes...I would hold it in my heart forever. I...I...I love her. I'm not sure why, I only know that when I see her, the world stops for a moment, and I see only her.

Oh, Cyaer, what ever are you going to do?

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. Neither the book nor its contents seem the worse for having been immersed in water in the past, and there are pieces of seaweed with entries written on them tucked into the back of the book, they lend a fresh, sea-salt smell to the tome.


Kel'tira Sunblaze

What would Kara have done? Tyrael? I stepped forward as leader because I am not sure anyone else would have. I stepped forward as leader because I think I have our best interests at heart.

Light... I wish Tyrael were not dead. I wish I had had a chance to set things right between us... Fel. I suppose the fact that I did not say what needed to be said will weigh on me for a long time yet... He did not go looking for death, did he...?

Light, that is a trail of thought I will not walk right now... No, I will not....

Knowing what I do from what both Tyrael and Mia have said to me in teh past, I am determined that my leadership of the Fellowship will not come between Nic and I. Not only do I recognize the neccessity of his support, I do not think I could bear to watch him grow apart from me, or vice versa.

There is an interesting thought... I have pledged my life to two things, the Fellowship and my husband.

Which comes first? The man I love or the people I am sworn to protect? Is this the same conundrum Tyrael faced with regaurds to Mia? Light...

That gives me the shivers, realizing that it is likely that I sit here thinking the same thoughts someone I know -- knew-- and trusted did.

The Rising Sun Fellowship has grown stronger for what we have faced. I only hope that the things I do make us stronger yet. Light, grant me wisdom and strength.

(The next page is printed in neat blocky letters, Kel's typical flowing script traded for clearly legible print)

I, Kel'tira Sunblaze, vow to guide and nurture the Rising Sun Fellowship and the people therein. I will try my best to be truthful and fair, witout prejudice and without doubt. I will strive to be strong, and to instill pride and faith in one another into the Fellowship. I will lead as best I know how, and not shy away from asking for help should I need it.

For myself and for others, I ask guidance from the Light, and upon my blood, and my ancestors' blood, I swear I will lead as well as I may, and strive for glory for the Rising Sun Fellowship.

Valor, Loyalty, Love, Piety.

(Her name is signed in blood)

Kel'tira Sunblaze

(A detailed, color drawing of Tyrael is slid between the pages, a note on the back)

Mia... I know how much he meant to you. I know we all miss him, but you must feel the pain most of all. I wish there was something I could say or do to comfort you, but this is all I can think of right now... Remember what he said? "Glory in death." Stand strong, Mia... I know you can.

(On the blank page behind the drawing is a line)

I need to remember to give this to Mia...

A small leather bound journal:

I was dozing in Tranquillien when the thought hit me hard. She loved Tyrael! I was so blind and deaf! Was I so caught up in my own self, that I did not see or hear those around me?

I remember now the redness of her eyes at the last guild meeting. And how some references to Tyrael affected her. Oh, you foolish, foolish, Cyaer!

The ink is smeared and page seems to have been exposed to water of some sort.

I must forget Karamia. I cannot be near her, for I know if I expose myself to her presence, that my heart will explode in my chest, that I will not be able to contain my love for her. And she...she is in mourning for the one she loves...loved. Oh, my beloved, my dear one, I cannot be there to comfort you. I..I..want to with all my being, but...

Again the page appears to have been exposed to water - or tears...

I will bury myself in the Ghostlands, I will let my heart die out here, and continue in the work and way of life I...I have begun. Surely, she will find someone finer and more in line with her status in life, than a simple thief from the streets. Let her grief be short, and let a smile return to her...Light send her what she needs.

Some of the ink is smeared, and tears have caused the page to warp a bit

A rising sun embelish's a white journal, She flips through the empty book. Her first entry would be full of remorse and sadness.

She stops to think, picks up the quill, begins to write.

A while back, I was sent into Hellfire Penninsyla to fight for our cause, soon followed by my darling Varus. I can't imagine what would happen, but I guess it was for my own stupidity. I went to talk with a courier, and was caught up with the shaking ground and the Fel Reaver was upon me. I was thrown from my mount, and crushed into the ground. When I awoke, Mia and Auxi was above me, the pain was mind numbing, my leg, my internal organs...

She stops to think a while, begining to write again.

I remember being lead to the encampment, the nice Blood Elf letting me lay on his bed, and the pains of contractions setting in, Mia forced me to get up and move on to Shattrah City, how badly the pains came. The nurse's and Doctor working for so long to save me and my baby. Only to loose her.

Tears stain the page.

Mia stood by me, I begged her to end my suffering, she refused. How could she be so cruel? I would rather be dead then live with this emptyness. The injuries have blocked my abilities to fight, I've lost my spells. I'm only left with this skettering healing. It crawls around my hands, up my arms, making me feel so weak and strange. Varus is so torn apart, we barely speak.

I then find out Tyrael is gone. Another loss in my life. My allie, my lover, my friend, my enemy.

I'm still awaiting the results, I've had my self and Varus tested, he was giving me blood, I requested that they test the fetus to determine, was she his? or was she Tyrael's?

Only time will tell, but one thing I know for sure, She was mine!

The woman with the brown hair sat under a tree in Silvermoon City. In her lap was a plain brown leather journal. She was pondering a partially written page that had a crease running down the center. The page contained a list and after a moment added something after the entry: Name—Auxilia.

Autumnsong

Beneath that had been written the words Birth Date, but that was still blank. Other things followed, parents, siblings, where I grew up—some were filled in, others were still blank. After a moment, she gently blew on the page and folded it over. She turned to a fresh page in the book and stared at the blank page for a moment.

She set the quill down and turned to look at her hands, running one slender finger across her fingernails. Finger nails that had white lines running horizontally across them—Mees’ lines—a sign that she had been poisoned.
***

New entry in a plain brown leather journal

I am being poisoned. I had not felt well lately, something I attributed to bad food, long hours and little sleep. How naïve. I should have guessed, but in my efforts to find Mia and Aranthil and keep up with the demands of those needing my services I simply didn’t think about myself.

It is clever; I will give my would-be assassin that. The poison would weaken me over time, making me easy prey. All they have to do it be patient and let it work. I am not going down so easily.

Part me says that I need to speak with the Fellowship about this, but with everything that has happened and is happening, another twist into the fray seems ill-advised at the moment. I told Kel’Tira, but for now, I will figure this out on my own.

We have lost so much these past few weeks: I am sorry for your child, Wynd. I cannot even imagine what you must be going through. I am sorry that you died alone, Tyrael. I never had the opportunity to speak with you, to encourage you, and to let you know that you were not as deaf to everything around you as people made you think.

For my other life: we are down to three. Training has picked up and I will be seeing the Fellowship less and less over the course of the next few weeks. They do not see me often, so my absence will most likely go unnoticed. I will need to think about arrangements… in case I do not return.

(This is unsigned.)

A small leather bound journal:

I have done some nasty things in my life, but Deathholme is dispicable. I kept my distance from the two abominations that walk the Scar here. I have their contracts in hand, soon their patrolling days are through.

My mind has been busy on focusing on my contracts and such. Yet ever in the back of my mind I wonder how Karamia is doing. I hope she has friends about her to keep her safe. I see her as a delicate flower that needs tending. Ah, she is a paladin, she could lay me out in one blow, and not think twice about it. Yet, this is not that which I speak of, for she has been through much recently. I cannot help but think that she still fights the nightmares that torment her dreams and on top of that...she has lost Tyrael also. A delicate flower, yes. A beautiful delicate flower that will grow and flourish if cared for properly in time.

My desire is to be there, my heart is with her, tho she does not know it. And it pains me to say that she will not feel my caring arms around her, to feel safe and secure by my side...yet. For I have a plan, no matter how farfetched it seems, I will work on it, and continue to see it go through to it completion. For the prize is my beloved's heart, if she will have me. And what better prize is there than that?

The young rogue closes the journal, tucks it within his shirt, and pulls the blankets around him. A smile crosses his lips, and a single tear falls upon his pillow.

Her dark tome, this one black leather bound and sealed with silver gilded pages. There is no trace of the owner's name for a few pages in and each word is written in scarlet ink.

I am not who I say I am. I am not who you think I am. Sometimes, I'm not even certain what I will become, but I will not perish in vain.

Tyrael gave me his dying words. Sometimes, i think back to it and guilt hits me. Despite my words, I had been heading this location all the while. One can only do so much when they're a few hundred miles away from the person calling to them. I called to Varus, but the man never answered. Even though he was the closest healer to Tyrael... One look at his corpse and I knew none of us could have saved him. He had bled out in minutes. Just long enough to talk to me.

When I reached him, despite the some idiotic, childish !@#$% crowing all the while, I had to try. So I did. I attempted to resurrect the dead, but I feel as if he did not want to return to this life. I do not know why, I had always thought him a strong man. Perhaps he is far wiser than I, however. Perhaps he knows something I do not. I am not certain if it is fantasy, folly, but Tyrael is gone, and I have passed along his body and his axe, but his journal I keep with me. I am attempting to restore it as I cleaned the axe before giving it to Mia. I do not know if I will give it to her as well, but I do not think his words should be lost.

A meeting was held, and for nearly an hour, we debated on who should lead. By Tyrael's will, it should have been Dalen or Mia. Dalen is a soft-hearted man and Mia is torn to pieces by the news of his death. From what I have heard in the meeting, I wonder if Tyrael's relationship advice is idiotic or not. It seems that he may have moved on without making clean breaks. But still, I watch the proceedings as the guild establishes its new method of leadership...

Kel'Tira will lead us. She is a level headed woman, diplomatically correct, and ready to slit the throat of idiocy before it breeds. I relate to her combat lust and all within the Fellowship would follow her. She has a kind heart and we respect her for it. When she went missing, even my frozen heart cracked with worry. Even Malathir worried.

Next, a council is being developed. As none of us could decide who the council should be, Kel'Tira is taking votes and her own opinion into consideration and creating it rather than letting the guild alone be the ones to bicker over who should and shouldn't be on it. One of my suggestions, the guild leader being the one to pick the council, but I doubt anyone will remember much of the meeting, other than that Kel'Tira will lead, the Council member potentials are being interviewed, and that I, the one who is usually distant, mocking, and biting, approached and lead the opening of the meeting. I wanted it all to be in the spirit of Tyrael... and for once, I was able to accomplish what I wanted.

Wynd... I do not know what to make of her. Just before Tyrael fell, we had a rather heated debate. She acted like a more annoying version of Varus, yapping about like a small dog. And, once Varus returned, I was yelled at for threatening her and challenging her. Of course. I challenged Varus as well. Anyone who disrespects me will be met with a challenge, because I am not afraid to back my words up with action. Only an idiot would call me a coward, when I am the first one to prepare to back what I say. I am not full of hot air.

What I do not understand is why she was the first to nominate me for position of leader. Perhaps I acted with too much charisma in that moment. I will refrain from such in the future, but I do not trust her motives. Her words earn her no favors, though I wonder if her change in attitude means she has discarded her plans to overtake Silvermoon City. She doesn't want a position of power in the guild... Perhaps it is because of what happened to her. The same day Tyrael was taken from us, she also lost her child.

I fear for my unborn because of this. I will show soon enough, I am certain. My breasts ache, my midsection is no longer as slender as it used to be, though my tabard and minor armor adjustments conceal all of this. Just how long until I show and it becomes obvious? Worse yet, I became pregnant shortly after I heard she was as well. How will her instability act when she figures out that my womb quickens with child at nearly the same rate as her own once did?

-- Continued on the next page --

Kel'Tira knows as much as Tyrael did of my private life. No, she knows more. And just like Tyrael, she has shared a deep secret with me as well. Though I didn't think much of Tyrael's secret, it made me feel somewhat comforted. He related to me. And Kel'Tira's secret makes me feel in much the same way. If she wishes to know of Malathir, however, she will have to talk to the Death Knight. I have only hinted at our experiments, but she is one of the few not stupid enough to realize that there is something between us. Open flirting included.

I must brace myself for the fact that Kel'Tira has offered me a position on Council, now. Despite controversy, none know of my deeper sins. Loving the undead. That will change eventually, and hopefully it won't be a fact tongues wag often about. My choices are with consequences, but my heart follows true to a man I have shared much with. I have resurrected something within him. He has trusted me to mind his damaged mind and something stronger has formed between us because of it.

On a more personal note... It was the first night I have made love that I recall. I convinced Malathir to do a practice with me to strengthen our bond, though considering we have both agreed to exile ourselves if the Ebon Blade cannot at least turn a blind eye to his actions with me, I don't know how much stronger this bond can become. But it was worthwhile. To look him in the eyes, to tell him that this would be the night we would make a child... and to call him the father of my child. He isn't, he never will be, but I accept him as such, and it felt good to say those words.

I think we'll have a splendid child. Maybe a bit bloodthirsty, but that's a good thing in this day and age.

~An'giel

A small leather bound journal:

I awoke with a start this morning. A dream, that fades quickly in the morning light, has left my heart pounding in my chest. I know only that Karamia was in it, but what of the rest? Why cannot I remember?

I will be entering the evil place of Deathholme again...this time to destroy a traitor to the Sin'dorei. And today I have made my mind up that the twin abominations will no longer exist...I almost said live, but the undead are unthinking creatures, unable to feel anything but hate for the living. They shall taste my blades, and fall. Light protect me, guide me, and please, please watch over my precious Mia today.

The young rogue tucks the journal into his shirt, and cinches up his armor. He has a determined look in his eyes, and his face is grim, as he moves to leave Tranquillien - headed to Deathholme.

A small leather bound journal:

The sentinal spies, those night elf wenches, have given me pause. They helped me to realize that life is fleeting, and in the occupation I am in [adventurer, explorer, whatever], it could happen at any time. And I know that not having any family, my items, my journal, and coin are lost to scavengers and to the four winds - however...

I, Cyaer, a scout of the Sin'dorei, do bequeath all my worldly goods to Karamia Dawnstrike, the one person in this life I live for and would die for. I ask those that would find this journal to present it to her, and to tell how you found it, or me.

And to you, Karamia, know that I found my life richer in having loved you, and my only regret at this time, is never having told you how much you have touched my heart and my life. I love you, my Karamia. And I hope the Light will bless you as it has blessed me in finding you. My beloved, don't weep for me, for I died as I wanted to - exploring the grand landscape that is Azeroth, and in helping those people, our people, the Sin'dorei in their daily lives.

It was not always so, but having met you, and many of the members of the Rising Sun Fellowship, I find myself wanting more than my own petty wants and wishes. I want to be a part of the larger picture, a thread in the tapestry of the Sin'dorei, of their returning grandeur. For we will become great once again, my precious Karamia, a land and people that people will look up to, and admire. This is my wish now, my desire.

This entire entry is encircled, and at the bottom of the page is a bloody thumbprint.

I feel better having written this, it gives me some closure. However, do not read this thinking
(Page one of two)

(Page two of two) in a small leather bound journal:

that I have given up on life. Far from it! For I look forward to a life with Karamia, if she will have me. A life with her, side by side, exploring and discovering the wonders of this beautiful place called Azeroth.

I must write to AZ as soon as I return to Tranquillien, I have a task I want to ask of him. And another if they will aid me also. Oh, Mia, you make life so worth living...if you only knew, if you but only knew.

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. Neither the book nor its contents seem the worse for having been immersed in water in the past, and there are pieces of seaweed with entries written on them tucked into the back of the book, they lend a fresh, sea-salt smell to the tome.

Kel'tira Sunblaze

What is there to say?

Nothing.

I do my best... as always. That is all I can ever do.

Keep on trying... I suppose that I will do as I always do... Keep trying, keep pressing forward... I am worried about Mia and Wyndd and An'giel. All of them, really, my cousin compared me to a mother hen.

He could have the right of it.

Where on Azeroth has my husband disappeared to?

I need him. Badly. He alone seems to understand me.

Kel pauses in her writing, stroking the desk she sits at thoughtfully, a patch of the wood is worn smooth from fingers.

This room reminds me of father. It was his, it always has been, as long as I can remember. I recall sitting on his knee as he bounced me when I was very young... Before the Scourge came. I remember Alaria and I hiding under the desk with father's cloak strung up as a tent, a crystal glowing between us as we made shadows fight on the walls.

I remember mother chiding us cheerfully for breaking our fast within those same walls.

As we grew older, I remember sitting here on father's lap, watching the sun sink amidst the spires of the city as he told stories of his travels... I remember mother perching on the edge of the desk, her pregnancy showing more and more each day.

Then one day, the whole house was silent... Our cheerful chatter had been traded for a silent sadness not unlike what you would find as you gathered around a death bed. Mother wept for days... refused food. Father's face turned dark, his kind eyes sad. Another grave joined the family members at rest outside the City gates. He had no name, the child who died before he took his first breath, and his grave reads, "The youngest of the Sunblazes."

Slowly, oh so slowly, our family regained our smiles, day by day I recall laughter sneaking on silent tread back into our halls.

Kel pauses again, stroking the desk and then swiping a tear from her face, shaking her head sadly as she glances out the window.

One day in particular stands out in my mind now... It was late June. Father and I were standing in this room, I was just over sixty years old, my birthday had come and gone earlier in the month. Tapping sounded on the door, and I twisted to open the carved, wooden door, my fingers trailing over the knob I had carved into the likeness of a dragon's head earlier in the year.

Treyn stood in the doorway, smiling broadly, and I recall almost laughing at him. He looked so hopeful. When he realized it was me who held the door, he swept a bow, reaching to kiss my hand and offer me the flowers he held. With nothing else to do, I accepted them, making my father proud.

Weeks later, father and I stood in the same room, mother looking on and Allaria by her side. Father read the words from a scroll I knew had Treyn's handwriting on it, declaring his intent for me. I was torn to pieces inside. Not knowing what to think, whether to laugh or cry.

Years passed. Elves are a long lived race... Most do nothing hastily, Treyn was no exception. My life continued to be lived in this room. I learned to read and write here as a child, I learned to dance here, the slow waltz the only think possible in the cramped space. I learned to manage the house's finances. I learned to be diplomatic. I held my first blade here, nearly slicing off my own finger. I spent a month in a chair by the door, carving designs into the wood. My own fanciful dragons and intricate flowers joined the generations of other designs.

((1/2))

I was here when we first received news of the Scourge in the Ghostlands. When father saw my cousins off to fight, with words for me, "I will not let my youngest daughter go to slaughter things."

I loved him to death, even though I spent days in a sulk because of his decision. I watched and waited, When Treyn returned, he had changed, he was rougher, his demeanor less inviting. I still loved him, I thought. But he did not love me.

We were standing here, well, I was sitting, perched on the desk as my mother had been all those years ago. He knelt before me, asking for my hand in marriage. What else could I do but say yes? I think my father approved, for he burst into a smile, and my mother nearly fainted.

When I returned to my father's study in the morning, I was in tears. Blood stains on my clothes, and a white cloth clotted with blood tied around my neck. Mother was away, she did not see me that morning.

There was no hesitation in his motions when I entered his study without knocking. He rose, without saying anything, and peeled the cloth from my neck gently, his hands glowing with Light. He left the scar there as a reminder for me. He was a powerful enough paladin he could have removed it, but chose not to.

Kel drags her hand over a dark stain on the wood and then touches the scar on her neck before picking her quill back up.

My life has been lived in this room, from my first steps clinging to the edges of the bookshelves to the blood shed from Treyn's betrayal. From learning to hold a sword to sifting through the house's assets. From camping under the desk to sitting at the carved wood staring down those who would tear my house from me.

This will never truly be my study, even if I might carry out my business here. It will always be Father's. It smells like him, still. The scent of well-oiled armor and old parchment pervades the air.

(There is a blank page)

Now I sit here again, after all these years I was away, and it is more like coming home than anything else to me. The place has not changed. It is still quiet and serene, with a view of the Royal Exchange through the window...

It is not mine, never. I am merely a guest here, perhaps an honored one, but a guest nonetheless. It is silence. A solitude I have not been able to find anywhere else. Father still rules the house, I can imagine, and no one disturbs him as he sits in his study with his daughters.

And then I open my eyes and it is only me. Alaria is gone, as is father, and I am the only one sitting here. No one would disturb me, everyone is forever telling me I look like him, sound like him.

The accept me for that, yet at the same time they distance themselves from me. This desk, this room, is part of who I am. I am my father's daughter. He made me who I am, and that I would never give up.

What does that make me, then? A woman who clings to the past? No... For I do not cling, I do not think. I think that this is part of me, and I cherish it.

Mayhaps I will add another carving to the door later.

(A space is filled with sketches of dragons and small, winged creatures dancing.)

I have no idea what possessed me to write all this... I suppose it is just melancholy, wishful thinking. And having time on my hands for the first time in days. Silence. Silence...

Oh, Light... I am going to go attempt to track down Nic.

((2/2))

A small leather bound journal, the cover scratched and worn, some of the edging red from blood...

When I was younger and in the orphanage, it was look out for yourself, because no one else will. Oh, there were matrons who were supposed to watch and care for you. But they were not always...there. I learned at a tender age that I had to look out for number one, food was scarce, clothing was scarce...beatings were not. But I learned.

I finally took to the streets, and learned to become more aware of my surroundings, to seek out the soft touches, and to care for myself better. I found I didn't need anyone...I could make it on my own.

Today...I was given a gift that I will treasure all my life. I found that this lone wolf needs a pack. And I have found my pack in the Rising Sun Fellowship. The kindness of a stranger and of Kel'tira and Karamia, when I was hurt has changed my attitude of my place in this world.

They both reminded me that the Fellowship was there to aid and help each of our members to grow and become strong individuals. That it was teamwork that made us strong against those adversaries we fought against. And I listened, and I learned.

I know I have a long, hard road of recovery to reach that place I was before. But it will be a different Cyaer that reaches that place. A wiser and better Cyaer, one who has friends he can call upon...no longer a lone wolf, but a member of the pack. And it feels good to me.

A small leather bound journal, the cover scratched and worn, some of the edging red from blood...

I'm resting like Karamia suggested to regain my strength. And I am listening.

She took good care of me, and I thought she should surely hear my heart pounding in my chest, as her gentle hands examined my wounds. Her eyes scanned over my body seeking any more serious injuries, and all I could think of was falling into them, and being in a place of joy and happiness. I smelled her scent as she leaned over me, and I was intoxicated. I may have swooned having her so close to me, and being overwhelmed by my senses, which I am sure she thought was only a symptom of my injuries.

Weariness was weighing heavy on me, and perhaps a bit of a fever, but as I closed my eyes to sleep, I swear I saw not my Karamia, but an angel, a beautiful angel of light, my pretty angel...Karamia.

I love you, Karamia. I always will.

A small leather bound journal, the cover scratched and worn, some of the edging red from blood...

I HAVE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE! I'm going stir crazy! I feel pretty good, and fully rested! These fool healers (may the Light bless them) won't let me out of here. I have read my journal over and over, and my feet feel itchy. If they don't let me go soon, I may plan me a jail break. With my aptitude for roguish things, they won't even know I'm gone...now what can I use for a head...hmmm

Journal of Karamia Dawnstrike

Today I have learned a few things. Some I was not expecting. My father is dying, some kind of curse. That is all Darthaniel will tell me, his serious and noble demeanor make me well aware I am treading on sensitive ground here. Father was against my becoming a blood knight. He was aloof and cool to me the last time I saw him. Mother is still in the asylum, the only place the House will allow her to live. Her addiction to the magic and the fel has kept her hidden away from the rest of Sindorei society for a long time.

So now he is here to help me, he says...though I feel he is not telling me everything. He is serious and a blood knight. He is not a close relative, a different House married into the Dawnstrike and offspring of my Aunt Gierlanei and uncle Haelthalas. His eyes are sometimes cold and uncaring, other times he is composed and quiet. But he is a good elf and very zealous in his work for the Blood Knights.

I had to take some time to help heal one of our newest members. Cyaer is sometimes a bit impetuous and I can tell he is not used to acting in a team environment. He tries to take on too much by himself. He ended up seriously injured and having to rest a few days. Kel'Tira and I were able to get him into the Inn and healed up. He will need time to recover. Something about his smile and the look in his eyes...I wonder if he has developed a bit of puppy love? I think he is sweet and well worth saving and keeping him in the Fellowship.

Kel'Tira gave me somethng today when I finished with Cyaer and left him resting. It was an excellent drawing of Tyrael. It brought tears to my eyes, but when she tried to tell me he cared about me...I had to stop her. I do not want to know he cared, I want to forget him and go on with my life. I tried to get through to him, but he was busy...he had others to work with, he had no time for me. Still...the drawing is excellent and it gets a place in my keepsakes. If nothing else to remind me I once knew a fine warrior who did his best for the Fellowship.

A small leather bound journal, the cover scratched and worn, some of the edging red from blood...

Perhaps I was a bit hasty in my assessment of my physical capabilities before. The healers allowed me to go sit by the fountain in the square. The sun felt good on my shoulders, and the gentle sound of the water splashing in the pool relaxed me. And when it was time for me to return to my bed, I thought I would put up some sort of resistance, but I was far weaker than I thought. So I returned subdued and very tired. I fell asleep almost instantly...

..."MIA!", I awoke yelling her name, and found myself covered in sweat...wait...what? What was it, what was in the dream? And why have I had it again? And why can I not remember anything of the dream? The healers did not appreciate my disruptive behavior, and chided me. I was very apologetic, and hopefully they did not notice the state I was in...I felt near panic and my chest heaved and my pulse raced...I must find out what this all means.

A small leather bound journal, the cover scratched and worn, some of the edging red from blood...

One thing about laying in bed for a period of time, is it gives you time to pause and think about your life, the choices you have made, and to contemplate your navel.

The reason I am here at this juncture of my life is from the choices I have made. Some of them are good, some of them...well, not so good. Would I do it differently if I could? Maybe, to be honest, maybe...but no, I wouldn't. I am who I am because of those choices, the good ones and bad ones. Each one has been a learning experience - a growing time.

I have re-read my journal several times these past few days. And I can see the changes taking place in me as I have began my journal, and my journey into Azeroth. From a street urchin with a runny nose to the man who is wiser and more aware of his role in this great big universe - the tapestry of life if you will, I have changed.

Change is a good thing, I think. For without change, things would grow stagnate and stale. Change is a rule of nature. And I'm going to try to embrace that change. Life may throw me off sometimes, but I'm determined to get back in it, and live it with all the gusto I can muster.

I have been given a second chance, in manner of speaking. I was wandering around, without any real direction. Then I got slammed with a big 2X4, and it was an eye opening experience for me. And I'm going to move ahead with my eyes open, and my mind more aware of my life as I live it from now on.

Oh, and just so you know, never pick the lint from your navel and roll it in a ball, it leaves your fingers smelling something awful.