World of Warcraft®

A small list is tucked into the journal of Aseria Sunblade. On closer inspection, it seems to be a list

Vira...the warlock. To be killed

Aran, the paladin, to be broken.

*There is a lot of space here, as if it was yet to be filled with other names*

The Sepulcher.
Found a Paladin among the gravestones today. Said she was Kel'Tira. Was looking for her "best friend." Hmmh. Emotional ties are such a waste of energy... Asked me what I could bring to her "Fellowship." I told her an army of demons and magicks unknown to people of the "Light". And killing. Lots of that. She gave me a magic rock that I will probably lose skipping over Lordamere Lake... Some sort of communication device, using primitive, elementary magic. I could recreate it in my... Heh... But I don't... I accepted her terms of our agreement... for now. We shall see how the others in her little elf gathering react to the induction of a Warlock, let alone a Forsaken!

A large white tome, elegant golden inlaid edges and three words down the center of the tome.

Balance
Perception
Logic

This stone... Something is wrong... Something is happening.
My thoughts: Clouded.
My actions: Disturbing.

I feel as though I am losing myself, yet somehow finding my true self...
Memories come flooding, but such memories...
Such violence and brutality for nothing more than personal gain.
Empowerment... At the costs of anything.
But yet I sense these actions some how caused a balance in the world.
But so much death, so much violence and not by the will of the Light.
These feelings that I have, these thoughts that haunt me...
Even as I write now the stone pulsates with a strange energy.
Unlike ever before...
It's as if my very soul is being torn apart within'.

I cannot help but feel that I am somehow finding my true self...
As if I was lost before, somehow in the dark to my true nature.

No! This cannot be who I truly am It is not possible. I am not capable of such true evil...
For I am a vessel for the Light.
The Lights will guides me.
I will forever stand with the Li-...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*The remainder of this journal page has been torn out.*

The night sky was a black pool of liquid filled with a myriad of silvery stars—each taking advantage of the lack of light from the new moon— that sparkled within it’s inky depths. Clouds dotted the darkness of the heavens and the starlight would wink out for long moments as the clouds meandered past. It was a dark night—perfect for lovers and for someone who needed to slip from shadow to shadow.

Scarlet moved quietly through the shadows of the stone buildings that made up Stormwind. She was not here to meet a lover, but was keeping to the shadows as she moved deeper into the city. The trip had been long and painstaking as she had to move slowly, crawling at some points as there was little cover. She reached a point where she needed to jump from one rooftop to another and paused in the shadow of a chimney to survey the area around her before she made the leap.

A group of inebriated humans lurched past, laughing uproariously at some joke that the blood elf crouched above them on the rooftop didn’t hear. A guard walking past in the opposite direction looked at the group and kept moving, not realizing that a blood elf watched his progress from the shadow of the chimney above his head. No one thought to look up—they rarely did. Scarlet waited for the guard to turn the corner before she moved on to the next rooftop, landing lightly and continuing on. Eventually, she ran out of rooftop and slipped down the side of the building and into the shadows between the building and a tree.

She slipped out from the tree and moved into another shadow to peer around a corner. The street was lined with closed wooden doors and plenty of shadows. Ahead was another wall, one that she would scale and continue on her path long the rooftops. She slipped out and moved from one shadow to another and saw ahead of her a shadow shift in the darkness. There was the sound of heavy plate boots against the stone and suddenly a guard turned the corner and was face to face with her.

There was a lot that could go wrong on this mission. Certainly, her timing had to be careful and she had to be very patient, watching and waiting until the right moment to move from one shadow to another. There would be things—like a guard being where he wasn’t supposed to be—that might very well happen and she had given quite a bit of thought about what need to do to prevent her being discovered if something should go wrong.

The guard was on his way to relieve himself by the tree. He knew that having a few ales earlier that evening before he went on patrol was probably not the best idea. This was the third time that he had to relieve himself, but then again he didn’t expect to turn around the corner and come face to face with a blood elf. There was no mistaking the bright green eyes that peered at him over the black mask that covered most of her face. Her slender form was clad in black and was mostly lost in the shadows but he knew that he was neither drunk nor hallucinating.

“Hey… what…?” were the only words he got out.

Scarlet sprang forward, a pair of daggers appeared in her hand as she moved and she quickly struck, knocking the man unconscious. She would have finished the deed but the sound of more guards approaching made her reconsider her actions. Scarlet pulled the man into the shadows and left him slumped by the tree that he was heading for. It was shadowed and hopefully he would remain undetected for some time.

He was now a liability; someone would eventually find him—whether it was before or after he woke up didn’t matter. She would be long gone by then but it was only a matter of time before the main guard knew that she was in the city and came looking for her en force. Not killing the wayward guard would work in her favor should she be captured—at least then they couldn’t put her on trial for murder—but she hoped that she would be able to finish her mission and make it out before the city went on alert.

She climbed the wall and crouched in the shadow of another chimney. A pair of guards walked passed—neither looked up—and passed by the tree where the guard lay slumped in the shadows. Scarlet held her breath as she watched them walk past the tree, neither of them noticing the unconscious guard. She slipped across the rooftop and moved closer towards her target.

(1/2)

The Cult of the Damned did not die with the Lich King. It was alive and well with many people vying for power in the absence of a single, controlling figure. It was that play for power that had brought Professor Browning here. It was an unassuming name for someone who had been afflicted by the plague many years ago and now walked under the guise of the Forsaken.

Browning had been brought here under the cover of darkness at the last new moon. Smuggled in by other Cult of the Damn members who had laid low while the Twilight Cultists had commanded the attention of the guard, the King, and more importantly, SI:7. It was the latter organization who they really had to be concerned about as it seemed that they had eyes and ears everywhere.

The plan was simple: introduce the plague into the water system and wait. Unfortunately, the plague had to be built—they could not simply bring it into the city as someone would have noticed the crates steaming with a foul odor. The components had been slowly and painstakingly brought in and now they only needed one more piece which would be brought during this new moon.

Everyone had been so concerned about sniffing out the Twilight cultists that anyone else who was acting reasonably normal had been overlooked. Unlike the Twilight Cult, the Cult of the Damned specialized in being unnoticed until it was too late and soon, it would be too late for Stormwind.

A small leather bound journal, the cover scratched and worn, some of the edging browned from dried blood, some of the pages appear torn and muddy, a small worn sheet of paper is folded and tucked within it's pages...

My journey in adventure has taken me from the Plaguelands to Searing Gorge. The land here is hot, empty, and devoid of trees. The very air seems alive with the heat and stench of brimstone. I miss Eversong.

I fight for the Thorium Brotherhood, but it does not matter who pays the commissions and contracts, just as long as they pay and pay well. Dwarves fighting dwarves...I do not see the differences, then again, I have never let politics chose my work. But I move silently through the rock canyons, and gorges, seeking my targets, then moving on.

My bags were full last night, and I chose to spend some time in a place called Booty Bay. Too many goblins around for my taste, but they move quick enough for my coin.

I found myself on a rooftop overlooking the bay, as the sun was setting into the ocean. There was a beauty in the scene before me that had me aching for home, and for Karamia. Oh, how I wished for her to be with me at that moment, sharing the beauty that is Azeroth.

Someday, I look forward to spending more time with her. Someday...soon is my goal.

A blue tome with gold embroiding. It appears fairly new.

Not much of interest happened today. I recieved a letter from Az, along with two bottles of Wizard Oil.
It was very kind of him to send these, and they have been very helpful, though I wish I could give him something useful in return.

I also ran into Kreindis today. He had a bit of trouble cleanig his shield, but I offered my assistance and with a little fire magic it was gleaming in no time. That is all for today. The hour is late and I am quite tired.

A red journal, bound by a golden rope. There is a name on it printed in gold...Aseria Sunblade

*Random scribblings, drawings, symbols, cover the whole page. Most of them look exactly the same, a star with a symmetrical dagger in the middle*

Insanity...it consumes me like a plague that can not be cured...it makes someone do strange..terrifying things...

Yesterday...it did something...horrible. Even I was shocked by my own actions.

*A red line caused by the ink of the quill was drawn un-neatly here, it lead to one of the symbols*

During my final stages of the blue flame...which I decided to call Arcane Flame, my master said I was finally ready, and there was nothing more he can teach me. As grateful as I was that it was over...something else at the back of my mind seemed to...snap. I don't know why, but I felt there was more I can learn, but despite everything I asked, I already knew the answers to them. I hungered for knowledge...

My master had seen this, and asked me if there was something wrong, and that he had noticed a change in my attitude recently...it seemed slightly more....strange, that what he usually sees. Guess I don't blame him, I felt changes myself, but didn't mind them, in fact I brushed them off....and I knew that it wasn't just anger working here.

Two days before the training, I met a small, hooded figure in a tavern in Orgimmar. She was Sin'dorei, that was for sure, but she looked extremely young...almost like a child. Shadows cloaked her figure, it was almost like they were apart of her, like she was their master. She beckoned me over, at first, I was scared, frightened even, I didn't know who this girl was or her motives, but either way I felt my body make the decision to walk over and sit near the girl.

It was the darkest part of the room in the tavern, the girl turned to look at me with large, shimmering jade green eyes. I felt something from her, as if she understood me, almost like Kel...but more dark and sinister. She told me she felt the insanity in my soul, struggling to break free. I asked how she knew, but she kept on speaking. She told me to embrace it, don't restrain it, she said let it run free and wild, let it give me it's power. At first, I was horrified, but as soon as I opened my mouth to speak, a slither of shadow lashed out and went down deep into my throat.

It felt like I was just breathing air, but I still gagged and stumbled back away from the girl, terrified at what she had done to me. It was then the girl gave me a wide, insane grin and said....if I ever needed knowledge of how to control the insanity...to find her with the shadow she had put in my spirit that would...release my insanity.

I ran out of the tavern, scared for the first time in my life. It felt strange, I was horrified, I just wanted to run away back home, crawl under my bed, and never come out. But yet...here I am, writing in my journal...these symbols...*another line is drawn to where another symbol was drawn*

....these symbols...they are strange...I don't know what they are...

In any case...back to my master, when he kept on persisting that I answered his questions...I attacked him. He wasn't a weak mage either, he was strong, stronger than any other foe I have faced before. He blocked a lot of my attacks, but with time...I got the better of him...and I....I...

*tear drops mark this page*

I incinerated his body.......I don't know why...but for some reason...some strange twisted reason...I enjoyed it.

I felt..free...the invisible bonds that tied me were gone, like I was able to do anything!...but I was still terrified...

As soon as I got home, I checked to see if there was anyone in the house. Luckily, there wasn't, so I packed what ever I could carry and fled my own home, scared that I might hurt a member of my family....

I now write this, in a small hut I brought in Orgimmar. It is not the greatest of homes, but for now it will have to do..

I need to speak with Kel...I need to speak with her..

Elron Narus "Blackmold"

I awoke and I felt anger...And I felt cold. I awoke feeling a hatred so strong that it felt as if my body had been lit aflame and then drowned beneath the coldest lake in the Eastern Kingdoms! Even as I stirred and picked myself up from the hard earth, a voice spoke out to me.

"Rise...rise and serve the Dark Lady."

I heard the words, just as clear as I can see the ones I pen into my journal, yet there was nothing I could do to listen.

I remember feeling consumed with a great thirst for blood. Fortunate or not, it would appear that I had been buried with great two-handed blade, and I took to the graves swinging in a blind fury. I recall visions, almost as if I were watching myself from afar, of a vicious ghoul swinging a large sword around aimlessly; I had never before seen such a powerful rage on any living creature that could match the terrifying visage of the rotted being before me. When all was said and done, kneeling among a pile of severed limbs: arms, legs, heads, and even entire torsos...I finally came to.

I was finally me.

----

I look back on that moment, and I'm amazed at the carnage I had sown with that blade. While I've never been much of a push-over when I was alive, the havoc I had caused was like nothing I had ever been capable of before death claimed me. However, I didn't have much time to think back on my life for very long, for the same figure as before sought to gain my attention. Mordo he called himself, and, as he had no clue as to who I was, he used the first term he could think of to get my attention.

"You, Blackmold, have you calmed down? Have you...come to terms yet?"

I didn't answer him right away. I was still adjusting to the fact that not only was a corpse talking to me, but that I was just as dead as he was. "Why are you calling me Blackmold?" Mordo carried a roll of parchment with him, and a quill.

"Since I was here when you woke up, I know you haven't had a chance to look in a mirror yet, but you should take a peek at your jaw sometime, when you have the chance."

I was so damn confused when he said that, that I immediately fingered my jaw...and found it to be squishy. Without hesitating, I clutched at my flesh with a few fingers and easily pulled away several chunks of it, only to see that a black mold was growing on my blood stained flesh. Since I'd always been unnerved by slimy creatures, mushrooms, and mold, I quickly wiped away at my face and eventually removed most of the skin from my jaw in the process. All this, while Mordo coldly laughed.

"I can't tell if you're taking well to undeath or not. I assume you don't want to be referred to as Blackmold from here on, so tell me; what should I put as your name?"

I leaned my head back and looked at the dark sky as I thought on the question. Things were so different back then. "Elron Narus...but I sort of like Blackmold. Keep it on there, maybe I can use it as a surname."

I remember the smile that Mordo gave me that. No doubt he tried to humor me, but all I could see in that grin of his was cruelty, and I have no doubt that my own face would mirror his. "Well then, we have plenty of work around here for you to do."

----

I think that's the worst part about it, the beginning. The beginning never makes any sense. It's not until after you've started that you begin to start getting the pieces to the puzzle. I think the reason I had to write about my start in this demented world, is because I'd never had any experience being dead until now. This is totally...new.Whatever, it's written down now, and it's not worth dawdling on.

Today has mostly been a bit of a head-spin - quite damned literally in some cases, thanks to those Scarlet bastards - but I can't let myself spend too much time writing about the small stuff. After all, I've just been assigned to be an envoy to the Rising Sun Fellowship of the Sin'Dorei.

Now that's something I'll really have to figure out.

A small leather bound journal, the cover scratched and worn, some of the edging browned from dried blood, some of the pages appear torn and muddy, a small worn sheet of paper is folded and tucked within it's pages...

The heat is unbearable at times here. I seek out some shade, only to find more heat reflected by the rock facings. My contracts take me into the dark mountain itself, Blackrock Mountain is what the dwarves called it...I thought I would find relief there. That was not the case.

I slay Dark Iron dwarves as I free others, and find a treasure trove of mithril to fill my bags. The molten lava keeps the air a constant temperature, and the smell of brimstone is not as thick as it was outside - still it is hot. My clothes and armor smell of sour perspiration. How is a thief to hide in shadows when you can be smelled within a mile of your target?

The final contract is in my hands, and I find that this demon, Archduke Calcinder goes down much more easier than I thought - blast! What a fool I have been, he must be banished, not slain...the second time, he falls or rather vanishes into the Netherworld. Good riddance...I can finally leave this place.

I take a long flight back home...ah, home. If it is even for a day it is home. My first order of business is to wash the stink of Searing Gorge from myself and my armor. I do believe I am much better now. And a nice meal at the Silvermoon Inn. The food makes me feel better also.

The necessary evils of prepping my pack, and selling my various loot takes too long. And I hire on for a few dungeon crawls...they provide quick funds and nice gear improvements. I find myself with a few members of the Rising Sun Fellowship - Lillisarei and Kelthul. We move quickly and efficiently through one then another of the dungeons.

I beg off on more as I have more prepping to do, and the decision of where to continue my journey. Lilli recommended the Swamp of Sorrows, it sounded better than returning to the Burning Steppes...I tire of the heat...so on the morrow, I make my way to the swamp.

I have been away from here too long. My heart aches to see my Karamia again. I pray that the Light keeps her safe, and allows me to see her once again soon. She is a balm to my soul and my body. I need her so much. To hold her in my arms again, to taste her sweet lips again, and feel her warm breath on me...it seems that is all I can hope for. Soon, my darling, soon.

An simple book with various leaves and plant stems sticking out from it's pages

The morning was highly productive from the church's point of view, I think. My reason - I spent many hours using the power of the Light in healing Sin'dorei with malaises and wounds. Several soldiers were brought in from our constant war with the undead that occupy the Scar. I also fortified their health, as they need all the assitance they can garner.

The afternoon was not so productive. I spent some of it in reading on some of the flora in Hillsbrad, and what herbs will be useful in gathering while I make use of my skills there.

And I daydreamed. It seems so wasteful, spending time in useless conjunture and wishful thinking. My thoughts were drawn to a certain young female mage of my acquaintance. I hoped she had received the items I sent her. I could not resist purchasing them at the stall in the Grand Bazaar...I apply them and find them...useful. And I believe one of her skills and abilities will find them useful also.

I am finding myself more and more anxious to go back out into the field...using the power of the Light to vanquish evil, and to lighten the burden of those hurt or injured.

I love my decision of going into the priesthood. The Light is a powerful tool to wield, and I find it an easy fit for me. Mother trained me well. And forgoing the use of the shadow (the route my father had taken) seems difficult, but I find my morning meditations easier to concentrate on without the ache of the Fel addiction Father carries. Yes...I will walk this path I have chosen, and continue to grow in the power of the Light.

May the Light watch over and protect Tislina. She is probably far away from Silvermoon City, and I was just a vapor of thought in her mind.

Such is the way of life, people come in and out of our existence; some bring light, some bring darkness; others bring joy, and others bring sorrow. However, life goes on.

A small leather bound journal, the cover scratched and worn, some of the edging browned from dried blood, some of the pages appear torn and muddy, a small worn sheet of paper is folded and tucked within it's pages...

My hesitation to leave Silvermoon City this morning allowed me to breakfast with Az. He seems happy following the Light, so I am happy for him. We stayed longer than I thought, talking about what has been occurring in each of our lives.

I became very animated discussing my love for the beautiful lady, Karamia. I went on and on, and stopped when I realized Az was politely listening, but he seemed wistful at my discourse.

"Az, what is it?", I asked

""Nothing,", he replied, "It is nothing...but I fear I may have "feelings" for a young mage I met several days ago. I cannot seem to get her off of my mind." He sighed heavily.

"Why, Az, that's wonderful!", I exclaimed. I had always thought Az spent too much time in books and parchments, and not enough with people. This was indeed good news.

"Cy, need I remind you of my vows...I am to remain celibate in order for my life to continue as planned in my walk in the Light. If I am pure, the power of the Light will be that much purer too. This woman has caused a disruption in my thoughts and some have not been all that pure, shall I say. Though no fault of her own, it has been my thinking that has lead me thusly."

"Az, Az, Az..."thusly"? Really? You need to get out of those dusty old tomes of yours, and out in the real world, my friend. I know where we both come from, and I know you...you know that...so listen to me...carefully, okay? Your vocation into the priesthood is admirable, you show a real knack for the Light, if I remember right. And I can even understand your calling to the Holy side of the Light, but Az, I think this vow of celibacy is your way of protecting yourself from the world and interacting with us people in the world. It does not make sense!"

Az drove me crazy...he listened, and nodded at the right times, so I know he was awake, but was he truly listening. I continued...

"I mean, Az, you wouldn't be here if your mother had thought the same way, or your father for that matter. There are many priests of the Light that marry, have children, and use the Light powerfully. And that's my last point, children. Az, we need to grow our population of the Sin'dorei, we need men to marry and have children...we have an obligation to our race, Az."

"I will take your points under advisement, Cy.", was all Az said.

Though I think I hit a nerve a few times, I could see the gears moving in that head of his.

Our time together pretty much concluded there. He went his way, and I went mine. But I had hope that he would think it over. I can be very persuasive when I want to be. Ha ha ha.

It's been awhile since I have recounted my journey in this musty old tome...

------------

Silverpine Forest
Aided the Banshee Queen in the destruction of Gilneas. I saw her die, but her loyal Val'Kyr sacrificed themselves to bring her back a second time. Power like that could be useful... Might be entertaining to enslave my own set of Val'Kyr. Another time, perhaps.

-------------
Hillsbrad Foothills.
Nothing here but ogres. Or at least there were...

-------------
Southern Barrens
Lots of innocent woodland creatures here. Their bones make great toothpicks.

-------------
Stranglethorn
Cats. Invisible cats, black cats, big cats, small cats, all of them easily dispatched. Maybe I'll use their remains to create an imposing throne to place in the Guild Hall. Could be fun to hear the androgenous ones scream.
--------------
Booty Bay
Went here for a drink and to find more sentient beings to dispose of. The Jaguars out in Stranglethorn just don't have the same hilarious reactions to be set on fire, cursed, cut in half... But I digress. Overheard a (presumably male, I can never tell) blonde Blood Elf talking to a Goblin Death Knight about meeting the powerful warlock Vira... This is the one we hunt. She is gaining allies. I look forward to cutting them down. I know not why she is hunted, but then again, does it matter? Another lamb for the slaughter...

-------------
Orgrimmar
Met with Kel'Tira. Warned her of the warlock's allies. She seemed even more fragile and killable than usual... Stuttered like a madwoman. Claimed it was stress, but the strange leaves (bloodthistle?) I spied in her hands and smelled on her breath told me otherwise...

I get the feeling that this little black book is going to be the only thing that keeps me from going insane. Or, perhaps I already am insane, and now I'm trying to prevent myself from becoming totally mindless? I hear that's an issue that quite a number of my fellow corpsemen have; they try desperately to stave off "the cold chill of death," to which I have to scoff. Now that we're already dead, what's honestly the point of all this? Really, the more I think about it, being resurrected in such a manner is almost a slap in the face. I've died twice now, and I'm moving onto my third life - if I'm fortunate, and luck is on my side, maybe the third time will be the charm.

Initially I took to wandering around Deathknell in an attempt to get my barrings, doing what was requested of me, and other things of that nature. The Tirisfal Glades was nothing like I remembered it when I last looked upon the green lands: now it was mostly gray, and damp, and so... I don't even know how I want to describe it, I'll just frustrate myself thinking about coming up with a proper term. Most of the work they had me doing involved gathering supplies, putting down those who were unfit for their new lives - I must say that it was quite refreshing to be the executioner, rather than the executionee for once. I even managed to ditch that damnable great sword someone saw fit to bury me with. Really, the least my fellow guards could have done when they put my body in that plot of ground was bury me with a sword I actually liked, or how about a damn shield for that matter? I'd have settled with only a bloody shield!

No matter, as I said, I managed to find some equipment more suitable to my tastes, and eventually headed out of the area. I'll admit, as boring as it was, I probably needed the time alone to help me get adjusted to this new setting. It's quite an odd experience really; coming back from the grave I mean. I can still clearly remember every event that led up to my death, even to the moment where they put that knife against my throat and cut it open. Then, what seemed to be only seconds later, I was awake looking up at a flying woman. I find the biggest change we need to get used to is accepting the fact that time has certainly passed since we were all dead, and that things are different; there's nothing we can do to change that...

Though, once you get over that fact, undeath becomes quite tolerable.

Also, I'd like to mention that I did manage to find something that brought some passion back into my soul. I can neigh describe the intense rush of euphoria that pumped through my withered veins as I helped fought remnants of the Scarlet Crusaders. Driving my sword through their chest and seeing the worms cough up their blood seemed to reinvigorate me. The feeling of ending another's life was the closest I'd managed to get to recalling what living was once like. Yet, I must remember to keep those urges in check. If I allow myself to fall prey to such base instinct then I have little doubt that I'll grow to resemble the Scourge.

While the idea of being mindless does actually appeal to me, considering that I truly seem to have nothing left anymore, I realize that following orders still provides some form of entertainment to me. It's like being issued a challenge, and I'm driven to prove that I'm still just as damned capable in death as I was in life. In fact, just the other day my Forsaken superiors requested for me to meet with one "Lady" Kel'Tira. I wish that High Command had marked down notes that she hates being called Lady - I almost lost my head when she barked at me for its use. With the Forsaken's eternal drive to prove themselves as worthy allies, they saw fit to send me as an envoy to join with the Rising Sun Fellowship, and help our Blood Elven allies in whatever matters they see fit.

Kel'Tira seemed level-headed enough when I met with her. Admittedly, I was ashamed to be introducing myself to such a seasoned fighter while dressed in rags, but supposedly my previous armaments were stripped from me after my untimely demise. I call bull on this one. Mordo probably had my gear taken from me and given to some green recruit. Whatever. I'll get everything sorted out in the end, and perhaps I'll even be able to obtain some manner of Captain rank in this organization. It's not like I don't have the experience after all. Anyway, the Rising Sun Fellowship appears to be quite stable at the moment. The only thing it looks like I'll be able to do for now is continue working behind the lines until someone decides to use me for whatever task they see fit.

- Elron Narus "Blackmold"

P.S. I'm beginning to grow fond of my new name. General Blackmold has quite an intimidating ring to it.

Captain Bradford was on his way back from a rather pleasant meal with a woman that he had been fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of some weeks back. While the night had worn on to quite a late hour, nothing improper had happened. He walked along the dark streets of Stormwind whistling a soft tune as he made his way home. He wasn’t paying much attention to where he was going—his thoughts still on the lady in question and how long it would be before something improper could happen—when his foot hit something. Stopping by a shadowed tree, he looked down to see what was littering the city’s fair streets.

A bottle lay on the ground, probably dropped by some revelers. He sighed and picked it up thinking that he would throw it away properly when he had the chance lest someone come along and trip over it. He wondered if there were more laying about and he gave the area a cursory check, grumbling when something caught his eye in the shadow by the tree. Moving forward he reached out a hand and stopped, muttering a four-letter-word as he took in the scene.

This was not a bottle.

***
Scarlet crouched in the shadows of the gate leading to the Cathedral district her gaze firmly focused on the small party of clergy gathered below her. What the good clerics of Stormwind were doing outside at this hour was beyond her, but she would wait them out. The great Cathedral of Stormwind rose gracefully upwards towards the starlit night sky and was quiet at this hour. She needed to cross and in order to do so, was going to potentially expose herself as there was not a convenient shadow to hide her movement. The small group of priests eventually climbed up the steps to the great building and disappeared inside. Scarlet listened for a moment, waiting for the voices to fade away.

She checked the surrounding area for movement before she sprinted across coming to a stop in another shadow. She was close now, only a little longer before she could enter the building that they suspected was holding the rogue Forsaken apothecary and the plague that he was brewing.

She reached the building, an unassuming stone front that for all appearances looked like another home. She slipped across the roof looking for access points into the building and the entrance to the cellar. That accomplished, she surveyed her surroundings to get her bearings and decide on an alternate escape route should her first one get cut off. The canal was always a possibility, but swimming would be slow and there was always the issue of where the water would end and whether or not she would be able to get up onto the rooftops easily from that point.

She turned her head and took in the landmarks: Catherdral, gate, canals, dwarven district—she could smell the smoke billowing out from the forges and wondered how the humans could stand it—and her gaze roved over to where the wall that blocked off the trade district would if her view was not blocked. Using the landmarks, she pulled up a mental image of Stormwind and plotted out an alternate path.

Her contingency plan in place, she turned her attention back to the building. She would slowly and methodically make her way through it, killing everyone inside until she reached the cellar where the apothecary was hidden. He would have no one to come to his aid when she moved from the shadows to take his life.

The night was wearing on and it was time to get going.

(1/2)

“They have infiltrated the city that much we know.”

“Has anyone been told yet?”

“No, we do not want to cause a panic—tensions are tight enough as it is. Also, sounding the alarm too soon may cause them to strike.”

An older bearded man sat behind a desk, his fingers steepled in front of him, his elbows propped up on the table. A frown marred his still attractive face, a face that with etched with the lines of age. He was too old for the field now; age had slowed his reactions and stiffened his joints enough that even for all his wisdom and experience, he would be easy prey for a younger rogue whose body was not slowing down. Now, instead of prowling the streets he sat behind a desk and issued orders to the younger, more agile rogues that made up SI:7.

“We need to find where they are hiding, lay our eyes on it and figure out what their plan is. Once we know that, we can coordinate with the guard and deal with them,” the bearded man tapped his finger tips together as he spoke.

The younger man nodded. “Who do you want to send?”

“Let’s put…”

He was cut off when another man charged into the room.

“Bradford! What on Azeroth…?” the bearded man rose from his chair as he took in the agitated expression of Captain Bradford.

“Someone has infiltrated the city,” Bradford said evenly. He had forced himself to walk here lest whomever had slipped into the city saw him running towards the Old City and put two and two together. They had not killed the guard, probably because it had not been necessary at the time or they lacked the opportunity, but whomever found the downed guard would be another story.

“Infiltrated?” the bearded man waved to the younger man who quietly slipped off. “What makes you say that?” It was not that he doubted the captain who had proved his capability on more than one occasion; he wanted the details so he knew just how many men to send out.

Captain Bradford quickly explained what he had found and why he thought it was a professional job, detailing the area and how the guard was hidden. He ended with, “The guard’s pockets were not picked and he was out completely cold. Whoever struck him did so at such an angle to get under the helm at the base of the neck.”

The older man nodded. There were a few guards knocked out each month by rogue thieves but this was not their method of operation. Someone else was in the city and his men would find them.

The young man came back into the room with a pair of men—one with blond hair, the other with black—both of whom were dressed in dark clothing. The older man looked up, a smile crossing his features for once that night.

“Ah, good!” his young assistant had gotten good at reading his mind. He gestured to the two men to move forward. “Gentlemen,” he said, coming around his desk, “we have a problem.”

***
“Do you really think that she can get into and out of that cesspool of a city without being noticed?”

“No. I doubt that anyone could,” the second orc, who had been staring out into the darkness, replied.

“She’ll be gettin’ da job done,” the troll said from the shadows where he had settled in for the night. He would not be sleeping that night as it was his turn to guard their small camp hidden in the high hills surrounding Elwynn Forest. “Da question be: Do joo tink she be gettin’ out alive?”

The first orc shrugged, although without a fire it was too dark to see it. “Who knows or cares if she comes out alive as long as she kills the target?” He gave a cruel laugh, “Besides, I thought that was why we sent in the blood elf—in case she doesn’t come back.”

(2/2)

The once-white cover is now black, and wear and tear of 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 entire tome smells of sea-salt and a soft, lilac perfume.

Kel'tira Sunblaze

(The handwriting is shaky, and a small piece of bloodthistle is pressed between the pages.)

What have I done? What am I doing? This, this is not who I am. This is not me. I need to stop... I cannot. I want more. I know someone within my House is giving the drug to me. I recognized the smell in my tea, who would not? After all, most of the Sin'dorei have dabbled in the drug at some point or another... I am no exception, however I might be loathe to admit it. It was in my tea, and I drank it, uncaring, I suppose... two, three days it has been in my food. Now I crave it, need it, hunger for it. They took it away. When I went home for a short time earlier, there was a bundle of leaves hidden within my desk.

What... Why... How...?

I cannot think clearly, the question that remains is whether to use what I have, and stave off the withdrawal, or get it over with... I fear I lack the self-discipline to just... stop.

The remaining questions are few, and continue to puzzle me in the state I am in.

What do I do with the remaining bloodthistle?

Do I use it? Bit by bit? All at once? Do I get rid of it? Can I get rid of it?

Who, if anyone, do I tell?

Nic? Cyaer? Mia? Everyone? No one?

I cannot focus my mind. My hands shake, my head pounds. Light... help me.

(The next entry is smoother, but still shaky, and dated two days later)

Again, this morning, another stack of leaves on my desk... I can only guess at who is trying, and succeeding, to do this to me. The most likely? My uncle, who has the most to gain if I were to be deemed... unfit.

Bloodthistle would do that, and it would do it very neatly.

I...I let it get the better of me. I admit it. I indulged in the drug. For now, my mind is clearer. And addict given a fix. I know I should not. I know it is bad for me... I am not proud of this addiction, and what I have fallen into.

I had to get out of Silverpine Forest, at least for a while. After I had helped a band of Orc sailors who'd been overcome by the Worgen in the area, and fended off a larger wave of reinforcements coming from Fenris Isle, one of the executors at the Sepulcher wanted me to take care of some of our fallen. The precious Undercity Insignia had to be recovered from our soldiers who had died fighting off the Worgen assault. The job was simple, and I'd seen enough death at this point to stare at another's demise with utter indifference, but, for some reason, I couldn't bring myself travel into those fields. I decided to take a trip elsewhere.

Until now, I'd mostly been following orders to try and pass the time, to give me something to do. In between marching from place-to-place I'd kill whatever wildlife I encountered in the woods; I wanted to make sure I knew how to skin a critter raw, just like my father had taught me so long ago. For the most part, I still did, but I did need to brush up on my skills. However, I figured it wouldn't hurt to try picking up another hobby, maybe digging in the ground could be fun. Hell, they managed to find me in the ground, maybe I'll be able to find something just as spectacular! Take that Mordo, I just topped your greatest discovery! The amazing Elnor Narus, now with black mold on his face! Really though, mining seems like it could be a great pass-time, I would just need some initial help learning how to spot the different types of metal that can be dug from the earth.

I had the basics down of each, and I managed to score a good haul of ores and skins, which I returned to the Undercity and put up for Auction. Though, before I offered my wares to whoever was willing to buy, I did peek into the Fellowship's vault. I was curious as to whether or not my gatherings would be of any use, but I couldn't see anything that hinted we were in dire need of coppers and tins. I don't know what use I have of gold at this point, perhaps I could simply split my earnings with the guild's coffers. As I tried to figure out where to go, for I certainly had no inclination to return to the front lines in Silverpine, I remembered that there were now a couple of zeppelin towers - one of these could take me to the Orcish city of Orgrimmar. Other than the bunch of green-skins standing around the Undercity, I hadn't had an opportunity to actually see what civilization is like for those I once counted as my enemies. Orgrimmar seemed like a good place as any for me get lost in, at least for a little while.

And get lost I did.

Even I can tell that I was struck with awe by Orgrimmar as the zeppelin flew in for docking at one of the towers overlooking the sprawling city. While nothing like cultivated capitols of Lordaeron or Stormwind, the home of the Orcs held to it's own sense of pride. The metal, stone, and wooden domiciles lining the canyons piqued my wonder, and caused me to gaze in admiration at how hardworking these brutish looking creatures really were.

As I departed from the zeppelin and exited from the tower station, a great vertigo nearly overtook me. Despite my affiliation with the Forsaken, the majority of my memories were of my humanity, and I had to remind myself that I was in the midst of allies, not foes. Admittedly, this would have been a much more difficult feat to pull off if not for my unnatural state. I've noticed that it's far easier to grow disinterested in the things around me, especially in times of stress - I simply shut myself down and zone out. I get the sense that it's similar to how a boat must feel when it's left to simply drift in the water.

So why couldn't I retrieve the insignia emblems from our fallen troops?

Similar to the Undercity, I noticed that there was an elevator down to the ground level of the canyon, so I took it - I'm not too inclined to see how durable undeath has made me by jumping off a cliff just yet. I knew I didn't want to leave the city, so I turned away from the gates and walked off to my left. I was in a long scar, and all around me there were huts set up, with what seemed entire families of Orcs barking prices for their wares. None of them interested me though, really, I didn't know what interested me. I slowly stumbled through the street looking about in every direction that I could. My head hung limply from my shoulders, I only felt like drooping, for some reason the state of my body matched my previously non-existent mood.

Then, I noticed a shop that seemed tailored for those with an interest in leather-working. I walked into the establishment and all about me Orcs worked to tan the flesh of past kills, some stitched the hides into suits of armor. A few turned their heads in my direction, but none spoke to me. I spotted one large fellow in the back tending to a large boar carcass, and made my way over to him. Without so much as a word, I plopped down across from him, pulled out my own knife, and held it by the blade.

"How do you do it?" I asked the Orc. "Is it any different than how I learned?"

I held out my skinning knife for the green-skin to take. He looked at it with a sense of distrust for a moment, but then realized my question was sincere, and took the blade from me.

"Watch."

I was amazed, absolutely amazed. They did things similar to us. There was nothing different between the way an Orc skinned a boar, than the way a human might - or rather an undead. I keep forgetting that I'm not...regular. As the Orcish man handed my blade back to me, he gave me a few parting words of wisdom. He reminded me that the tougher my kill, the harder I'd need to press the blade. I nodded in deference to him before I stood to walk from the building.

The stronger my opponent, the stronger I'll need to become.

Sticking to taking corners, I turned to my right as I continued walking down the long drag, and found myself in an entirely new valley. I was beginning to grow weary of wandering aimlessly, and had quite enjoyed the time I had with the skinner, who revered his work with all the pride of the greatest artist. Not far from me there was an inn, Dragon's Something, or what not. It was close to a military compound for the warriors to train, and so I knew that their wares would pack quite a wallop. I don't remember walking the rest of the distance, but I found my way inside the building, just as I had with the home of the leather-workers.

I noticed glass contraptions, similar in nature to vases, but with cords extending out of them from whence you may inhale from. Smoke drifted from the tip of this glass vase, and I immediately recognized the device for what it was. Feeling like being alone, I made for the upper floor, where, to my pleasure, the place was nearly deserted.

I plopped myself down at one of the tables, quickly picked up one of the cords, and inhaled deeply. Though I didn't need to breathe, I could still work my lungs, if I had such a desire, and right now, I had that desire. I sat in the room for hours, and whenever I ran out of herbs to burn, I walked back down, put a handful of gold on the counter, and without any exchange of words, I took what I wanted back up with me. I honestly don't know how long I did this for, but in all that time, not a single thing happened to me. There was no change in my perspective, no difference in my outlook on this new life, I felt nothing I did not feel before walking in. I felt nothing.

With absolute indifference, I rose from the table, and prepared to return to Silverpine...but first I needed to inhale just one more time.

((Part Two))

((Part 3))

I returned to my duties in Silverpine, a new air of motivation having been instilled in me. The motivation to simply exist. Thus, if I couldn't figure out a reason to exist, then I would let others figure out that reason for me. Honestly, I'm reminded of my previous life in many ways, yet, even back then I could tell that things were better. However, I've never been one to just roll over and die, so I'll fight until the bitter end, or be the last thing walking upon Azeroth when all else turns to dust.

Gods I hope I die before that happens.

While the Forsaken Forward Command was busy dealing with the Worgen threat, legionnaires from the Alliance sacked Pyrewood Village and scattered our troops to the wind at that outpost. I was assigned to escort a few recently risen lords to help regain some measure of control in the area. Ironically enough, just a I watched one of the ghoulish men I was with shoot down a cowering soldier, I received my first welcoming from the Fellowship.

Varus Dawnstalker, Lady Kel's friend, the man who presumes to test all new recruits, finally had the opportunity to speak with me. Though, I can't quite say it was totally normal considering most people don't appreciate being spoken to in such a cold manner. It wasn't until halfway through I realized that he was genuinely hateful toward me. Still, even then I couldn't bring myself to rise to the temptation of speaking just as harshly. Varus spoke of the Scourge's rampage through the Ghostlands, of how it must feel to watch as your kin are trampled beneath the boots of merciless invaders, the elf practically sang of the injustice visited upon the Blood Elves that was meted out by the dead hands of the Scourge. He recanted whispers of the vice grip that the Forsaken have over the Ghostlands, and of the machinations that the Dark Lady seemed to be plotting.

As a fresh recruit, I was more than ready to inform him that I had no knowledge of the politics going on in the kingdom, nor did I care. Yet, at his mention of slavery to such a queen, I paused. It was in that moment that I realized...he was right. Only, Varus had no idea just what kind of slave I was just yet. Though, for that matter, neither do I.

I feel no pull which compels me to obey anyone but myself, yet, I seem unable to inspire myself to set my own goals. I have no interest in life, my own, or others, yet I refuse to just die. If I can't find my own reason to exist, then I will use others to instill purpose within me.

- Elron Narus "Blackmold"