World of Warcraft®

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

I am bored. For the first time in a mage class, I am bored. The reason being because we have new recruits today, and I realized just how advanced I actually am as a mage. So, I have been asked to sit at a table in the corner and simply listen. Bored as I am, I allow my thoughts to wander. First, they turn to the guild meeting I recently attended. Viragona worries me quite a bit.

Before long I find my thoughts turn to a certain priest I recently met. I smile as I think of a sunny day in a warm park, simply chatting to him, telling him of my fears. When I think of him my heart thumps a little faster, and that terrifies me more then facing the whole of the undead Scourge alone. Do I have fellings for him? In the park he says my name.

"Tislina."

A little louder. "Tislina."

I look up and see my instructor looking expectantly at me. The new intiates all stare at me. He asked had asked me a question. "What?" was all I could say. I turn off the lamp and crawl into bed. I close my eyes and my thoughts turn back to that certain priest.

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

I failed to write yesterday that I ran into my old friend, Cyaer. He seems to be doing well, I have never seen him so outgoing and fit. I do believe he is enjoying life for the first time. Light be praised.

He became excited as he talked about a new love in his life, he thinks he may have found the one, what did he call her, ah, his soulmate. Cyaer is still young, the young have infatuations, and I have a "wait and see" mentality concerning his "love" life.

But he did have some wise things to say about my own directives, or vows. He pleaded a good case for the Sin'doei and I listened. I am spending the day in reflective thoughts, and going over the words he said...he can be...persuasive and intelligent when he needs to be.

My evening meditations help me to reach a mental plateau I have not been able to acquire for quite some time, what with various distractions and boredom setting in. But one thing became crystal clear in my thoughts as I contemplated my place in the universe, I was not meant to be alone. That there are other forces at work and I need to search outside of myself to reach my full potential in the useage of the Light and as a Sin'dorei.

Perhaps it is very fortuitous that I find myself a member of the Rising Sun Fellowship. I must inquire as to how I can help within its charter, and membership. And maybe, I might see that delightful elvish mage that seems to have cast a spell over me.

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, some appear to be water stained (tears?). A small worn sheet of paper is folded and tucked within it's pages...

I made my way to the Swamp of Sorrows, and I feel I have exchanged the dry arid heat of the Gorge for a warm, humid, and muddy landscape. Ah, the wonders of Azeroth.

One plus I found, this place is a virtual greenhouse for plants and herbs, I found myself filling my bags with new and exotic greenery. I cannot wait to see what prices they will bring in the Auction House; as well as for our growing membership in the Fellowship - some are actually using the items I leave for their use. Our young scribe may find these useful.

The swamp is full of hostiles, I found myself at odds with huge spiders, murkdwellers, and crocodiles, as I made my way to Bogpaddle...a backwater village if I ever saw one. One bright light I found here, Lilli was working out in the boondocks too.

Her and I have explored many dungeons together, and it was good to see her. My concerns and feelings for Karamia must have been written all over my face as she asked if I was missing Mia. I told her yes, and she said she knew Karamia to be in Undercity, would I like to go there? Yes! And she cast a spell that provided a portal to the city of the undead. I gave her a quick hug, and blew her a kiss as I stepped into the portal.

I sought my lady love out, and held her close and kissed her as soon as I met her. She was a drink of cool water to a man coming out of a parched desert. My heart was gladdened to see her and hear her voice, and she felt the same. Oh, Light, each day is a blessing as I remember longing to hold her, and feel her close to me oh so long ago - and here I am doing just that.

We spent some time together in the ruins of Lordaeron, getting reacquinted with each other, but our time was cut short. As the guildstone became a flurry of activity, and I heard Kel'tira speak, her words were slurred and she had some difficulty putting her thoughts together.

She rambled on about doing something so heinous that she felt sure that she had alienated herself from the Fellowship, from me. I tried to console her, but whether she was drunk or otherwise incapacitated, she was not listening. I sought comfort in Mia's arms, as Kel's state confused and concerned me greatly.

I tossed and turned throughout the night, worried about my dear friend, my sister in arms.

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, some appear to be water stained. A small worn sheet of paper is folded and tucked within it's pages...

The writing is more erratic and hurried...

I awoke in the early morning dawn, with an idea that I must discuss with Karamia. She may be able to help me implement it. For now, I must write it down least I forget it.

Our Fellowship is under attack, it flounders under the possible insidious effects of the warlock, Viragona again. We attempted to defeat her while rescuing one of our own, Karamia. We seem to have failed in destroying her, and she has retaliated with a vengence. Well, I for one say no more.

Do we not have champions in our rosters that have worked to place themselves in the upper echelon of heroes of Azeroth? Can we not call upon our champions to defeat this menace to our fellowship? Aid us, please! We need your assistance. I beseech you in the code of the Fellowship, help us in our time of need.

I speak of Malathir and Selalindori, Dalen and Kaevelara, of Kel'tira and Angiel, Aranthl and Qinyn, and of Nicias and Karamia. Can not the powers of you all combined destroy the b*tch who has caused death and dissension among our membership?

I must seek out Karamia, and discover if such a call can be made of the champions of the Rising Sun Fellowship! I pray the Light may bless our Fellowship with grace in this time of need.

The two SI:7 agents moved out across the city, walking out of the building as if they were heading home and as they crossed into the shadows of the deserted streets heading out of Old Town, they disappeared from sight. Moving through the city, they stayed on opposite sides of the street from each other when they could. They traveled cautiously; while they were unconcerned about being spotted by the few citizens of Stormwind that were still awake, they did not want their presence to be known by the intruder they were looking for.

“How many do you think we are dealing with?” Javelin, the blond, asked as the pair paused in a shadowed alcove to check their surroundings.

“One, if they were smart. More would be easier to find,” Blackhawk, the man with the long black hair, replied, making certain that he kept his voice low.

Both men had to wonder who was in the city and what they were doing. The general assumption was that it was not going to be a good thing—such as an assassin—and they knew that whomever they caught would need to be questioned thoroughly before they were taken to the Stockaids and, depending on who they were, possibly executed.

Javelin nodded as he surveyed the street. “All clear, let’s move.”
***

There were not a lot of people in the house. Scarlet had silently moved from room to room, floor to floor quickly and efficiently slipping up behind her first mark and slitting the woman’s throat. The next room had two together and as the first one choked and sputtered as the blade met its mark across his throat the second one jumped in surprise. It only took him a moment to realize that an assassin was in the room, but a moment was all that Scarlet needed. A pair of sharp dirks, both were coated in poison, appeared in her hands and flew from across the room quickly silenced the man. He dropped to the floor and Scarlet moved on.

It would not be a pretty sight when they finally found the bodies, but there was no help for it. Information that she had recovered when she had searched the rooms of the upper floor indicated that these were not agents of the Undercity, but of the remnants of the Cult of the Damned. If she wasn’t killing them, then someone else would come in and do the job and then possibly blame the Horde for its involvement when they found the Forsaken in the basement. That was the working theory anyway. Clearing out the house was just a matter of practicality, making the final and what was considered the most dangerous mark easier to take out since he would not have reinforcements.

The main floor would prove to be more difficult than the second floor, and Scarlet hidden in a dark corner of the room considered her options as she surveyed the five men sitting there. She had reached the corner via the staircase and some rafters that spanned the room. She had slipped onto the rafters and carefully made her way across them to a better vantage point.

Two of the men had markings that signified Cult members and the other three did not. She supposed that the ones without the marks were the ones that moved about Stormwind, acting as if they were just regular citizens going about their business. Combat was not her strongest suit and although she had spent quite a bit of time working on her fighting skills with her new mentor, Blacklist, this would be hard fight. She had to maintain the element of surprise and keep the noise level inside the house down at the same time. Guards patrolled every street in the city and there was no telling whether or not guard was walking by outside or not.

She studied her quarry a moment longer, a plan forming in her head as she scrolled through her options. She could not dally here much longer, the night was wearing on and she needed to reach the Forsaken and take care of whatever was being brewed in the cellar. Once that task was complete, she could then turn her attention to getting out of Stormwind alive.

A pair of dirks, each covered with poison, flew out of the darkness hitting the two men who were facing her in the forehead. The men, who had been standing, crumpled to the floor as the other three jumped to their feet and whirled around looking to see where the blades had come from.

Scarlet, who was still up on her perch waited until one of the men had moved in close to where she crouched hidden in the rafters. He failed to look up and she jumped down, blades drawn and in two quick motions, put him down. She slid to the left into a shadow as he hit the floor with a soft thud that caused the other two to spin around to see what had happened.

“Get to the others,” one of the men snarled. “I’ll deal with the intruder.”

(1/2)

The second man turned for the door, but Scarlet was not about to let him walk out. She sprang forward, her blade lashing out and striking the first man across the face, causing him to spin away from her in defense. The second man turned in time to see her jump into the air, a pair of short swords leading the way and he fell back against the wall as the blades sank deep into his chest. The first man, now recovered from the attack bellowed in rage—so much for sneaking up on the Forsaken in the cellar, Scarlet thought as the man ran towards her.

The blood elf had to wonder if there was something in the water that the Cult of the Damned members drank that made them do really stupid things. Like attack an armed person while being unarmed themselves. No matter, she thought as she lightly jumped backwards into a shadow and disappeared. The man sputtered a moment as he cast wildly about trying to figure out where she had gone to. He didn’t wonder long as he felt her arm come around his shoulder and the press of her body against his back as a blade made its way across his throat. She brought his body lightly to the floor—she didn’t want to drop him and make any more noise—and then moved to the back of the house where the kitchen was located. Her main quarry would be located in the cellar there and by now, she was certain that he knew that someone was in the house.

The cellar was dark and smelled of mold—which was a good thing; it could smell of the plague. She had been in Gilneas not too long ago with a small group of operatives whose goal it was to steal samples of the plague that the Undercity had brought to Gilneas and return it to Orgrimmar. The noxious green substance had a foul smell that the protective gear they wore did little to mitigate.

She had to wonder how they planned to distribute the plague, she considered the various options for discreet delivery as she crouched down behind a group of boxes to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness. While she waited, she listened to the sounds filtering in around her. If the Forsaken was here moving about, she would hear him. After several long moments, she was rewarded as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and a soft shuffling step was heard. She slowly crept out from her hiding place, slipping into stealth mode with the shadows and hunted her quarry.


(2/2)

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, some appear to be water stained. A small worn sheet of paper is folded and tucked within it's pages...

Dawn. I watch the sunrise, as my mind and heart are a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions for my dear close friend, Kel'Tira Sunblaze. I am worried for and about her...she does not seem to be herself, and yet she is still Kel'Tira.

I suspect she is under enormous pressure, and still more pressure she imposes upon herself. I cannot fully understand what has its grip upon her, and I can only watch as she begins to fall apart.

I am here, Kel...I am here.

Late afternoon. Now I understand...and it infuriates me to no end. I never understood the politics or pressures of being in a House, as I am an orphan and belong to no House.

But to learn what I have...I cannot let it go...he will pay...and he will pay dearly. Already I have set the plan in motion...I cannot let Kel'Tira ever find out...as I do not want her implicated in what I do, and yet...he hurt her...and hurt her severely...and I cannot let that go without - punishment.

Would she understand my anger? Would she accept my decision to exact judgement? Would she understand that I do it for her...that I cannot let this go unpunished? And yet, if she were to ask me, I will admit to what I have done. And would do it again for her. Gladly. She is my family, she is my sister...hurt her, you hurt me...and you will pay, and pay...dearly.

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

My expertise in healing was called into use for the Fellowship. My patient showed a severe case of...

Much of this entry has been scratched through and is illegible

I forget myself on occassion, and must remember a patient's record is private. So, I shall leave this as is.

Another long day of caring for the civilians and soldiers of Silvermoon City. And I find myself too exhausted to eat. Perhaps in the morning....

Professor Browning knew that there was trouble. He could hear the dolts upstairs scattering about and there was what sounded like bodies hitting the floor. That was the trouble with the living—they were great a blending in and ferrying supplies; they were horrible when it came to anything else. There was a reason why towards the end, the Lich King only granted undeath to those who proved themselves most worthy of the honor. The rest just served as cattle for the Scourge machine.

Since the worthless humans that were supposed to be guarding the house and the canisters that contained the pieces of the plague had apparently failed, it was up to him to keep the vision alive until the other—and hopefully more capable—cultists arrived to pick up where they left off. In the meantime, he had an intruder to deal with.

***

Scarlet slipped through the shadows of the cellar, following the small noises that were being made. She was being led somewhere, probably into a good ambush point. Taking out a small stone, she tossed it into a dark corner where it made a soft clattering noise—to distract her quarry—before she slipped forward to a group of boxes. In the darkness, she could make out the broken, shuffling figure of a Forsaken—it was either that or an extremely thin human who had rolled in some several-week-old carcasses.

The figure stopped and looked in the direction of where the stone hit. It stood there, stooped over and incredibly still for several long moments before he cackled—a distinctly unnerving sound that grated up her spine.

“Come out, come out where ever you are!” he called, imitating a human childhood game. Its meaning was lost on Scarlet who could not remember much of anything concerning her childhood. “Come on, my boy, do you really think you have the upper hand?”

‘Not a boy,’ Scarlet thought as she slowly crept into position. She pulled out another stone and tossed it near the first one. The Forsaken turned slightly towards the noise. ‘Oh, and I have the upper hand.’

The Professor had little time to react when she leapt out from the shadows behind him. Had he been alive—rather than undead—she would have simply slipped up and slit his throat. Forsaken did not bleed like the living and slicing their throat didn’t do a whole lot of good. She needed to delve deep into the body, severing enough that the foul magics that held the corpse together were extinguished.

Her blades sank deep and cruelly into his back. He gasped and fell forward, sliding off the short swords and hitting the floor. It would have been enough to kill most humans, but the Professor was no longer human. He crumpled to the floor, went into a roll and came to his feet—a little more stooped than before—to face his attacker.

“My dear lad,” he spoke as he came up and then realized that it wasn’t a lad he was dealing with after all. In fact, it wasn’t even a human but a blood elf! He knew that her presence here didn’t bode well for his contacts in the Undercity but he also knew that she risked a lot to get here. With that in mind, he decided another tactic, “My apologies! My dear GIRL!” He let his glittering red gaze run over the length of her body, “No mistaking that… certainly a girl. This is nothing personal! But I must ask, do you really think that you are getting out of Stormwind alive?”

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off when she struck again, moving forward swiftly while he monologue. The blades slashed at him again, sinking deep. He gasped and staggered, feeling the energy drain from what remained of his body. He felt a moment of panic when he realized that they had sent someone actually competent in after him. Not a human, he knew, watching the green eyes blazing above the black mask. Those eyes were cold and narrowed in deadly intent.

He struggled to pull his dagger as he scrambled backwards, trying to get out of her reach. She crossed her hands over her chest and he realized that backing away from her had been a mistake. The lone lantern in the cellar caused the two throwing dirks to glint wickedly as they appeared in her hands—where did rogues keep all those blades? He wondered dully trying his best to reach the canister that held the most acerbic component of the plague.

He didn’t make it. The blades sailed through the air in an easy, effortless motion towards him. One embedded itself deep within his forehead, the other deep within his chest. She strode over her short sword at the ready as she knelt down to check the body to make certain it was dead.

“Killing you comes before getting out of Stormwind alive,” she said as she stood up. "And, it is nothing personal." She turned away, leaving the Professor in a crumpled heap on the ground.

(1/3)

Blackhawk and Javelin moved along the darkened streets, ducking from one alcove to another, slipping behind trees and regularly checking the area above them in case someone was moving across the rooftops. On more than one occasion, one of them was slipping along the roofs themselves, their padded leather boots making little noise as they went.

They came to a stop again in the dark shadows of an alcove and surveyed their surroundings for movement. Again, they checked the rooftops and looked closely at the shadows for shapes that were either out of place or shifting. Finding nothing, they continued on moving into the Cathedral district on their circuit around.

A lone priest moved down the steps of the great building with a bag slung over his shoulder and as Blackhawk watched the area around him closely, Javelin took in the surrounding area. It was unlikely that the priest was in any danger, but they knew that anyone could be a target. Blackhawk, satisfied that the priest was not in immediate danger of having his throat slit, took a moment to study the bag that he was carrying. He had to wonder what the man was doing out at this time of night—had he been studying too late and was just now making his way back to his quarters? If that was the case, he didn’t have far to go.

Blackhawk slipped across the rooftops and watched as the man made his way past the small set of dormitories near the cathedral and headed towards the Dwarven district. Perhaps the man was on his way to meet a lady of the night—not all priests were celibate—but it was strange nonetheless and he pointed out the man to Javelin.

“We’re headed that way, so let’s keep an eye on him,” Javelin replied after he watched the man plod along.

***

Scarlet turned her attention to searching the basement, finding several canisters each marked in Gutterspeak—a language that she was not proficient in. She knew enough to realize that these were the components of the plague. How many pieces was the last Scourge plague? She puzzled over it while she countered the canisters. Five—there were five pieces—and there were only four canisters here. The fifth one was out there somewhere.

It left Scarlet with an interesting quandary: what to do about the fifth part. She had time to go look for it, but Stormwind was a big city and the likely hood that she would find it anytime soon was nil. She could try and alert the authorities, but a blood elf, dressed in black and armed to the teeth would not be well received, no matter what message was being brought.

***

‘Brother’ Herrick walked quietly along the deserted streets of the Cathedral District. His cargo had been brought in under the cover of the darkness via the cemetery and a little known tunnel that led into the Cathedral proper. It was not hard to convince the other priests that he was on the trail on some esoteric religious finding—some stupid dribble that no one else would even be remotely interested in—that allowed him to stay late in the library without anyone ever thinking twice of why he was there.

He moved with purpose through the back street of the Cathedral district towards the Dwarven district, where the smell of smoke from the forges was still going strong. It was a good thing. They had picked this particular location because the billowing smoke masked everything else.

A pair of shadows followed him as he plodded along, completely unaware that he was being followed.

***

Scarlet cautiously moved up the stairs from the cellar, keeping close watch on the shadows of the room and what was above her. The room was empty and she continued up to the second floor where she would exit out the window that she came in. She had dumped the neutralizing agent into the four canisters present in the cellar. It would be enough to prevent any of them from being used as components.

She took a deep breath as she settled into the shadow of the chimney, happy to at least have successfully completely her mission. Now all she had to do was get out. She spared a brief thought to look for the fifth canister, but it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Certainly, she could wait here and see if anyone showed up at the house, but that would be highly unlikely.

'No,' she thought, she did her job and she needed to get out while she could.

She retraced her steps towards the Cathedral district, moving quickly along the rooftops as she danced from shadow to shadow. Movement on the ground caught her attention as she slipped along the wall that blocked off the district. A lone figure, carrying a bag, was making his way towards the direction from which she had come.

(2/3)

She knew she had to find a place to drop off the rooftops—shadows were more plentiful on the ground, but travel was a bit more difficult. At the moment, she was more concerned about finding good hiding spots rather than being able to move quickly. She slipped around the front of the house, lightly jumping down behind a tree where a shadow provided cover.

“Going somewhere?”

The words were spoken in Thalassian, but the accent was unmistakably human. He spoke just as she saw him crouched in the shadows not far from her.

She had been made. She knew it even before she heard the softly spoken words or before the other person came up from behind her. She considered making a run for it, but she knew that it would be a good way to end up with several dirks embedded deep within her back.

So Stormwind agents worked in teams, she thought as her wrists were bound behind her back. It was good information to know. If she got out of this alive, she’d make certain to tell Orgrimmar about it because if they knew, no one thought to tell her. Well, at least she could tell someone about the fifth canister for the plague. She was certain that she could at least get that much out before they slit her throat.

(3/3)

Silverpine, as well as Gilneas, are finally secure, at least for now; but we can never be too certain that the Worgen won't attempt to come back in force. From a soldier's perspective, the battle had been nothing special, nor noteworthy. Oh, there was plenty of combat, and let's not leave out the massacres. Great scores of troops on both sides, the Horde and the Alliance were lost during the bloody fighting. When I think back to the battle for dominion, all I can see are the faces of the dead: Worgen, Forsaken, Human, Orc, it just goes on, and on. Yet, when it comes down to things, all it really turned out to be was one force pitted against the other, as each side spilled the other's blood in the name of their "glorious" leader.

There it is again, leader. It seems to me that such figures are the only thing I really have a reason to fight for anymore. Yet, I cannot get the implication that Varus' words have implied from out of my head. Have I truly become nothing more than a slave in this world?

I've always preferred to follow orders, but, before that was simply because it was easier. Now...I feel like it's all there is. I find it difficult to give myself purpose: the things I once desired no longer matter, the passions I once held for life are extinguished, and even those hobbies which helped to pass the time are utterly useless to me now. It appears that I simply no longer have the will to strive toward doing anything meaningful to me, because life itself has ceased to have meaning. If the only thing that pleases me to do in this life is serve, then what exactly has that caused my meaning to become? Have I chosen to be so subservient, or is this truly the only push my kind have?

Still, even if servitude was what my life had come down to, I do my best to tell myself that it's for the better anyway. Life was barely worth living before I had died, and I feel the same way about it now...barely. Even if I have given up on myself, there's no way I'll let myself become useless to those who I can still aid. To help myself get over such incessant thoughts, I journeyed to Silvermoon City, capitol of the Sin'Dorei.

Since a majority of those in the Fellowship are of the Blood Elf people my thoughts were that I could possibly encounter some of my possible companions, and see what kind of people I was expected to work alongside. My idea paid off, for, as I poked my head through the various establishments setup around the city, I happened to stumble upon an Elven spellcaster. This man, who I now realize I failed to get the name of, turned out to be a member within the Rising Sun Fellowship.

When this elf spoke, his words were accented by sickly wheezing, which concerned me enough to make a comment. However, upon hearing that it was magical in nature, a curse of some sorts, I realized that there was little I could do in the realm of such ailments, and left the elf's health to his own concern. Our conversation consisted of trivial matters. Truthfully, my only interest was becoming better acquainted with the men and women who I would be standing alongside in future excursions, and I wanted to ensure I could rely on as many of them as I could - and that they could rely on me. There are many who doubt the sincerity behind the Forsaken's words, or any other undead for that matter, and it is my intent to show them that not all of us are reborn equally.

(1/3)

Suffice to say, I found conversation with this spellcaster to be quite refreshing. The Elven man refrained from speaking harshly, and even seemed to grow amused with the comments that made up our conversation. As far as the majority of the races tend to be, he was quite open-minded about those he spoke with, at least this is what things seemed like for me. Curious about his lack of anger toward my kind, considering that is what I seem to encounter all-too-often, I even went so far as to remind him of the devastation my people are so closely associated with. Even then, he held his tongue and continued to speak in a civil manner with me.

Despite the Elf's cursed manner of speaking, I would not mind another chance encounter with the man.

----

Oddly enough, I have most recently been called into service by members of the organization. Yet, the method of operation is far from what I had expected my first assignment to be.

Just last evening, I met with three others within the Fellowship: two elves and another Forsaken. The presence of the Forsaken, who eventually revealed himself to be a warlock, did surprise me. With what I've thus far been able to gather from conversations with Varus and Kel, this being's mannerisms were quite erratic. While I have no ill will toward my fellow corpseman, there was a vicious air about him, one that seemed perfectly in line with the wanton thirst for destruction that the Scourge seemed to suffer from. However, should they find this man to be trustworthy, I will not question their judgement, and shall gladly work alongside the warlock.

The woman herself, one Jahana, she too was of particular interest. She remained fairly quiet during the majority of time that Cyaer spent briefing the warlock and myself - I recognized this man in passing, as he was with Lady Kel'Tira at the time of my initiation into the Fellowship, and I recalled her use of his name. The only time I can recall her truly speaking was when she raised questions regarding the personal details of our job, as well as the involvement of those our work would soon center around. Still, her occasional commentary did aid me greatly in garnering more information on the job that Kel's friend had to offer the warlock and myself.

Cyaer wove for us a tale of betrayal and great misdeeds. Apparently, the blood of our leader, her very uncle, has been attempting to compromise the integrity of his niece. By taking advantage of the inherent addiction Blood Elves seem to suffer from when using bloodthistle, Kel's uncle has been exploiting our Lady's weakness for the herb and crippling her ability to lead, let alone trust her own allies. Strategically, I must admire the man for his determination, and sly methods toward removing Lady Kel'Tira from power over The Rising Sun Fellowship.

But I also admit to wishing to remove his head and bring it to those I serve. When the Forsaken had me pulled from the grave they found me in and said that I owed my new life to the Dark Lady, I swore to serve in whatever manner they saw fit. High Command then saw fit to place me under command of those who would lead The Rising Sun Fellowship. Lady Kel'Tira was the one who introduced me to the organization that I count myself as, and I'll fight to preserve her honor as leader of this Fellowship. These are the people who I now serve, and serve them I will.

(2/3)

Interesting enough, once Cyaer had debriefed the warlock and I as to what would be required of us so we could go our separate ways, Jahana managed to contact me. I had stayed behind in Silvermoon City to make preparations for what would, no doubt, likely be a very long standing post in Hillsbrad - I haven't had a chance to see how the foothills have developed, and I am eager to gaze upon the lands I once lived. However, in the meantime, though she wasn't so forward as to say so, I'm certain that Jahana wished to see a demonstration of my combat proficiency before fully entrusting me with the mission that Cyaer saw fit to give me.

Though I had thought myself finished within Silverpine, it turned out that I was wrong. It would appear that, amid the fighting between the Forsaken and the Worgen, a sect of undead rebels stormed the ruins of Shadowfang Keep. Now these wretched lost souls had turned the fabled fortifications of Archmage Arugal to their own devices. Jahana seemed to have been tasked with the eradication of these foul traitors, and requested the aid of my shield in her endeavor. Upon hearing the Blood Elf woman ask for my services, I was suddenly filled with a strong desire to prove myself capable in the eyes of my companion. Other than when I was tasked with killing backwash Scarlet Crusaders in the Tirisfal Glades, I had not felt such a strong desire to strive toward glory.

Thus, after sharing her mission with me to venture into the bowels of the dark keep, we journeyed to Shadowfang taking our separate paths. As we arrived at our destination another few troops were placed with the two of us, and ordered to help subdue the rebels who had taken the keep for themselves. Jahana and the others at my side, or back, I led the charge into the fortress that had been abandoned to the shadows so long ago.

Inside we found masses of the dead, more than we could have possibly imagined lying within the castle. The rebels had truly managed to entice a large number into their fold, far more than we had been led to believe, but I refused to let that stop the mission. Our orders were to eradicate the rebel threat, and, no matter there numbers, that was exactly what I intended to do.

Looking upon the shambling ghouls and decrepit bones of the many skeletons now filling the halls, I thought allowed myself to think about their lack of loyalty. I let my mind mull over the thought that there would possibly be some who would allow the meaning of the word to bear such little value. Staring at the foul, miserable, rotting, scum...I was reminded what it was like to look upon a real traitor. What blood I still possessed began to boil.

I all but dove into their midst, and, using my sword to cleave limbs and rend flesh until ichor and marrow poured forth upon the ground, causing my foes to slip upon the fluids which once gave them life. I ducked and swerved beneath a flurry of clawed swipes, clumsily thrown jabs, and the wide swings of massive flesh horrors or the greatest champions of bone, each who stood well over eight feet in height. Between my own vicious strikes and quick parries, I occasionally managed to slam my shield into my foes, wielding it with all the lethal efficiency as the blade in my right hand. More pleasurable than the parting of flesh, I became almost ecstatic and swept away in the euphoria as I felt bone turn to dust beneath the weight of my thrown shield.

At the end of one such battle, I managed to locate a shield among the dead that seemed to serve as an excellent replacement for the one which I previously bore. Until this moment, I had been wearing a particularly tough shell that I managed to cut from the back of a massive tortoise. However, such direct use of an animal's hide almost seemed barbaric to me, and I was more than a little enthused once given the opportunity to use a shield formed of actual metal. Fortunately I had the chance to find out how useful my new personal barricade would be, and continued delving deeper into the keep. Before long, all of the rebels had been routed.

Shortly after we had finished cleaning Shadowfang Keep, Jahana and I parted, going our separate ways. Though, before we did so, she acknowledged my prowess and skill in the field. Oddly enough, I felt content upon hearing her words.

I look forward to when I may next serve useful to those in the Fellowship. Until then, I will continue to traverse this broken world, and, perhaps, repair the damage that it and I have both suffered.

- Elron Narus "Blackmold"

he 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

Ideas churn through my head regarding almost all in the Fellowship:

Nic. Ash. Cyaer. Mia. Kel'thul.

Nic does not remember anything about our fight, a mixed blessing to be sure. I just want time with him, right now. Ash did something... placed a spell to... discourage me... from bloodthistle. Cyaer has agreed to become part of the Sunblaze House, something I could find only a scattered handful of precedents for. Mia, also, I think will be offered the same as Cyaer. I worry about her. Kel'thul... Twice, he has plunged into my mind, once without my permission, once with my permission.

The first time, he saw the bloodthistle, and my fight with Nic. The second, he was able to trace the touch of my uncle, or his assistant. Either way... My uncle will pay, I think. I merely need proof.

Mia and Az cleansed the thistle's taint from me last night. That was a different type of pain from what I had ever experienced before. Aranthil cleansed Nic in a burst and he was himself again, thank the Light. On the other hand, he was alright just in time to see me in the state I was in. Drugged and semi-lucid.

Ash and Kel'thul showed up today, the former to yell at me, the latter to ravage through my head again, with my blessing or not, it hurt. But I think he is tracing the link back to whoever did it.

I spoke with Cyaer for a long while today. On matters from Kel'thul's intrusions into my mind, to thistle, to Mia, to my house. Our house, now, I suppose. I offered Cyaer a place in the Sunblaze house, something I think will be good for him.

I want to see Nic, again... I think I will set this journal aside and pick up my guildstone in an attempt to track him down.

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

Balance
Perception
Logic

I saw Lady Kel'Tira once again today, her state was pathetic though I suppose not quite her fault. There was a Mage there by the name of Aseria I believe, an interesting character to say the least. Her presence rather annoying yes, but she does posses at least some power. Lady Kel'Tira should be safe... For now... But when the time comes there will be no forgiveness for me, and there shall be no hesitation in the actions that must be taken...

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

The meeting with Kel'Tira was rather brief, it felt rushed but there is much to be done. There is much I need to accomplish before my supposed meeting... And there are many answers I must seek out, regarding Kel'Tira's Uncle, and his assistant. I wasn't able to get much to go off of. The ritual I performed today with Lady Kel'Tira and the assistance of her Mage friend gave me a face, nothing more than a face to go off of. This may pose to be a greater challenge than I had expected to find this person, though perhaps not... We shall see, and shall I even pursue this matter? It seems rather pointless, though a good distraction at most.

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

I have decided to pursue the matter of Kel'Tira and her uncle's assistant, the information I have gathered thus far is minimal but I will continue my search. Perhaps I should speak with the rest of the Fellowship? They must have at least a small shred of knowledge that will assist me in this matter, though they already seem rather controlling over the matter. This may only make matters worse for Lady Kel'Tira. But I told her I would help her, I told her I would find this man... Lady Kel'Tira is a smart woman, she fully understands that prodding at these things may stir trouble for her, I shall simply keep to my word and find at least a name and location for her. Perhaps find information on this "Assistants." power, he seems a coward someone that would use Thistle to influence another's mind. Though I should not underestimate before I know at least a little more...

The blood red pages of the book are covered in thick, bold handwriting in black ink.

Velin Sunblaze. Rightful Lord of the House Sunblaze.

That damned niece of mine has evaded my plots. She lives. Baelic will infiltrate their petty Fellowship, under the name of “Alfred.”

Where do I come up with these things? And Siendra? The Blood Elf who mothered my son? Dead. The child? Alive. A member of the Fellowship and a close confidante of my niece. The webs I have woven draw closer together. Currently, I plan and plot. Baelic will infiltrate their order, with the intent to bring my bastard son to me, whether through subtle means or force is up to him.

These glades are wonderful. Undercity is the place for me, right now. It suits me. The place smells... Evil.

Kel'tira will die, her husband, too, if he thinks to strike against me. The bastard Sunblaze will fall, just as his mother did. I will sow seeds of discontent amongst -my- house, so that they will welcome me with open arms as I step up to lead.

A small black tome, of leather is encased in a steel box, the lock is trapped, but only Jahana has the key. There is no lettering on the outside of the book. Inside in very small neat script are sets of numbers and diagrams. A few notes are written in a cryptic code.

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

I see this Fellowship as something wondrous. My family has all been dead for many years. I have survived on the streets through my own wits and determination. Many things I have learned over the years. No one cares for you except for what they can get from you. Nice to your face...and stab you in the back.

Now I see something different, and it brings me new hope. These people look out for each other. They care about the problems of the members of the Fellowship. Though some are still suspect to me. I see Kel'Tira as being too trusting and willing to accept so many into an organisation that should be exclusive. At least Varus has the right idea of testing, though he has never actually tested me. I begin to think he is merely being mouthy and letting his ego run amok.

So I ran some testing of my own. Quietly and with out letting them see, I have followed and observed many members of the Fellowship. I begin to suspect some of the Fellowship as being other than what they say.

Some of them surprise me. Cyaer claims to be devoted to Karamia, and yet he works tirelessly to support the Fellowship. He is more open and trusting than I ever could be. I see him giving hugs and support to other females. I wonder if he has ever been tempted? I will not try to subvert him. For some reason I see he has the best interests of all of us.

I follow him and find him making friends and eliciting aid from our newest members, the Forsaken. I am shocked at his plan. I never expected him to be so...devious. I volunteer to help and we make plans to find and dispatch this uncle of Kel'Tira's. The plot thickens, I hesitate to tell him of my own investigations. I do not want anyone to know how skilled I am at follwing and eavesdropping.

“You got her?” Javelin asked. “I want to find that priest… there is something not quite right about that situation.”

“I’ve got her,” Blackhawk replied, placing a hand on her arm. Javelin had bound her hands so he doubted that she would make it anywhere fast, but he still felt more secure if he held onto her.

“Make certain he does not have a canister in that backpack.”

Both men turned to look at the blood elf, surprised that she even spoke.

“Canister?” Javelin echoed. “Just what are you playing at?”

Scarlet gave directions to the building where she had killed the Cult of the Damned members. She was about to add on the tidbit about the apothecary when she was cut off.

“We know about the Cult,” Javelin said with a disgusted sigh. “We have been tracking them…”

“I cleared out the house and the apothecary that was in the cellar,” she shrugged one shoulder—the one opposite the arm that the other man was hanging onto.

“Apothecary?” That got their attention.

“I was sent here to kill him and neutralize the plague,” she continued, trying to jerk her arm free of the man holding it. Blackhawk just held on tighter. “He was working for the Cult, but the plague components were stolen from the Undercity.”

“If that hag Sylvann…”

“She didn’t, or at least not that we are aware of. We are looking into that,” she cut him off, arching one eyebrow as she spoke. “If you don’t believe me, go to the building and look. Just make certain you find that man posing as a priest while you are at it. If he got there and found everyone dead, he is probably on his way to alert the other Cult members that are no doubt sprinkled around the city.”

The two men sighed, knowing that the blood elf was correct. “I’ll go,” Javelin said, “you can take her to the interrogation room.”

Scarlet waited until the man was out of sight before she started counting. One… two… when she reached twenty, she dropped the ropes that were binding her wrists and in a smooth motion, twisted out of Blackhawk’s grasp. There was a puff of smoke and she was gone.

Blackhawk blinked in surprise, a grin coming unbidden to his lips. Oh, she was good, alright… but he was better. If it was a chase she wanted, it was a chase she was going to get. He knew the city like the back of his hand and that would be her downfall. There were only so many places that she could have gone to, but he knew the general direction in which she was heading… out.
He took to the rooftops, traveling quickly, his eyes searching the shadows for movement. After a moment he was rewarded; she was moving along an opposite building, but she was about to run out of space.

Scarlet had not been certain that she was going to be able to escape the two men that had come after. Between explaining why she had been there and reminding them that not all was well in the city and there was possibly something going down that very night—or what was left of it, at least—she had been able to get one to go off and hunt down the man who she indicated might not be a priest after all. That left her with one, and due to the rush job at binding her wrists, she had been able to slip out of the bonds and get away.

Away, but not out of the city. The rooftop that she had chosen was leading to a dead end, although it looked as if she could make the jump to a nearby building. She took a deep breath and sprinted towards the end, launching herself into the air. She landed neatly and from the corner of her eye saw one of the men bearing down on her.

They met with blades out, the metal singing as they hit. Hard blue eyes locked with determined green ones as the two passed each other. Momentum sent the two some distance from one another and Blackhawk dug in his heels and spun around coming to face her. Scarlet turned as well, knowing full well that she did not want this man at her back. She also knew that she would need to fight her way to the edge of the city, where she stood the best chance at getting out. She needed to control the fight and lead him, not the other way around.

Blackhawk watched as she came to her feet, short swords ready to stave off another attack. She was heading towards the edge of the city, no doubt looking to make her escape. He knew that she was not going to let him get around her to push her back towards the center of the city, so he would have to settle on overpowering her. He pushed forward, his leather boots making a thumping noise as he ran across the roof towards her.

(1/3)

Joseph Mullery and his wife Rachel were both hard working citizens of Stormwind. Both had been peacefully asleep in their beds and both had been awaken by something running across their roof. The thuds and thunks coming from the roof made him think that some wild animal was up there.

“Go outside and see what is going on!” Rachel insisted. “There are thieves out there, you know!”

Joseph really didn’t want to head outside in his nightclothes, but he also knew that he would not get any rest from Rachel worrying until he did. Slipping on a pair of shoes, he walked down the steps to the first floor of their small house and stepped outside. He had to cross the street and crane his neck to see what was on his roof—nothing. The night was quiet again and he had to wonder if whatever animal had traipsed across it was gone.

***

Scarlet met him on the charge as she prepared to jump to a neighboring building. She parried the blade as she passed and gained enough momentum to make the jump. The two swords met again, metal upon metal clanging as they passed. She cleared the jump, but the strike had put her off balance and when she landed, went into an uncontrolled tumbled. It took her a moment to get her feet under her and she worked to regain her balance she could see Blackhawk running to make the jump as well. She got her feet under her just as his feet landed on the rooftop. She sprang backwards and into the shadows, moving several feet away to where she could hide against a chimney. He would look for her there, she knew, but the question was from which direction he would come.

She crouched down, listening carefully for footfalls or breathing. She scanned the area for shifting shadows. She heard a soft creak to her left—apparently someone needed to check their roof—and she slipped further to the right and scanned the area to make certain it was clear. A shadow appeared by the chimney to her left and she turned and sprinted back the way she came, easily clearing the distance of the narrow alley. She hit the roof running and cleared it, moving to the next roof.

***

Joseph had made his way back up the stairs and entered the bedroom. Rachel sat up in the bed, a worried look on her face and the edge of the bedclothes clutched in her hands.

“It is all right,” he said, bending down to take off his shoes. “No one was up there. It was probably just an animal.”

A light thud sounded, followed by what sounded like footfalls. It was followed shortly by a heavier one. Joseph sighed as Rachel let out a frightened squeal, laced his shoes back up, and headed back down the stairs.

***

Blackhawk cursed quietly as the roof underneath him creaked. He turned the corner by the chimney and let out another curse as he saw her sprinting away. He set a course to follow; only this time there was not a convenient place to get in front of her.

Scarlet dropped off the roofs, heading into the shadows provided by the back alleys of Stormwind. She found a pool of deep shadows and passed it, opting for the cover provided by a tree. If the human had been able to follow her, he would look at the deeper shadows first.

There was nothing. No sounds, no movements. After several long moments to let her heart stop racing, she continued on towards the outer wall. It was not far now, the last obstacle would be to scale it. She would not exit in the direction from which she came, she was moving out closer to the main gate of the city, but if she was being followed, she did not want to point out what direction the camp was.

She continued through the city, slipping quietly from shadow to shadow until she reached the wall. Getting a toehold, she lightly scaled it, bringing herself out of the shadow and into what little light the stars provided. She gave a passing glance to the area around her, making certain that no one was out and about to see her before she slipped over the wall.

***

“What happened?”

Blackhawk turned to look at Javelin. “She got away.”

“She got away from you?” Javelin asked in surprised. “Huh, I suppose there is a first time for everything. Come on, we need to make our report.”

Blackhawk pulled off his mask and rubbed a gloved hand along his jaw. “She was clever. I can see why they sent her.” The two started back to Old Town.

Javelin studied his partner for a long moment as they walked. “Are you going to try to hunt her down?”

“Maybe…” Blackhawk said as he walked along. He spared a glance in the direction that the blood elf had gone, “maybe…”

(2/3)