World of Warcraft®

***
Slipping into the party had been easy. Tirastrian had let her in through a side door and covered her entrance by announcing they were about to open the bottles of Grenier brandy that the horde had paid so dearly for. Once she was in and thing had settled for a few minutes, he slipped back by with a tray of wine; handing her a glass, he pointed out the host of the party, Eliran Falconsky, a crime lord whose weapons trafficking ran along the entire continent.

She had hardly recognized herself in the mirror when the female troll was finished with her. At first she was more a little worried about the troll’s idea of beauty, but the image of the woman staring back at her was not someone she knew. Her brown hair fell about her face and shoulders in artless curls. She was wearing a floor length dress with short sleeves made of black and red silk that was open across the back. Around her neck was the silver necklace made up of intertwined flowers and gems. Matching earrings and bracelet rounded out the set.

As she viewed her reflection in the mirror, she had raised a hand to touch the small scar on her cheek, just to make certain that it was her.

Scarlet took a moment to study Falconsky surreptitiously from behind her wineglass. He was a tall man, well built with long auburn hair. He wore a dark blue shirt threaded through with silver thread and black pants. Polished black boots finished the ensemble and she could see several rings on his hands. He was a striking man—the strong chin and defined cheeks of a blood elf served him well and he presented with a presence that seemed to draw the eye of many women in the room; they were interested not only in his handsome face and body, but also in his power and money. He moved from guest to guest as he greeted them with an easy grace that seemed slightly predatory. This was his territory and he was keeping close watch.

She took another sip of her wine as she let her gaze rove over the room, noting the exit to the outside garden on the right and the staircase at the back of the room. To the left side was the hallway and at the front of the room was a long bar where Tirastrian and another man were working. Tirastrian would occasionally circulate through the crowd with various drinks while the other man worked to keep the glasses continually filled.

She took another sip of her wine. The red liquid was quite delicious and expensive—it was another moment of déjà vu and she didn’t have time to ponder it. She knew she needed to pace herself, even as she took another sip. She was nervous but she reminded herself that she could do this and hopefully get it done without compromising herself.

Satisfied that she had the lay of the house, she turned her attention back to locating her target. She found him speaking with a small group of people about midway through the room. She had decided on how she was going to approach the situation and hoped that her plan would be enough to get and keep his attention. Her stomach turned over and she ruthlessly squelched any qualms she had about what she was about to. Bombs were big money and bigger body counts; she could do this, she had to.

(2/3)

***
Eliran Falconsky was a self made man. As the youngest son of a family who served in a noble house, his prospects were not good. He had coveted the position of head of the manor even while his parents had instilled in him a sound work ethic—work hard and you will be rewarded, unfortunately, the rewards for a family who worked for another were not good, either.

He left home not long after Kael’thas’s defeat—he refused to refer to the traitor as a prince—and found his way into the underworld of Azeroth. Organized crime paid very well, but it was also very dangerous. Many men that he knew had fallen over the years to rivals but he had persevered and taken control. His own empire now spanned the continent and he kept his place on top by ruthlessly crushing anyone foolish enough to try to edge in on what he was doing.

This party was primarily a business meeting. He wanted to bring in new buyers as well as reward loyal ones. Bringing them in for a night of drinking and food was a good way to help strengthen old ties and solidify new ones. With the usual rabble came a number of women—most of whom were familiar faces; some were buyers themselves, others were here to tag someone as a new lover and score a few months of free room and board. Some were here vying for him and while he was not going to let any of the money grubbing simpletons into his life, he might consider a single night worthwhile.

He was moving around the room to greet people and had been speaking with a small group when he realized that he was being watched. He turned his attention towards the front of the room where a blood elf stood holding a glass of red wine. Her brown hair was curled about her face and shoulders. It looked soft to the touch and gleamed in the magical lights that dotted the room and he found himself curious as to what the richly colored tresses would feel like sliding through his fingers.

The woman was dressed in gown made of red and black fabric that was both demure and alluring. Unlike many of the gowns here that left nothing to the imagination, this one teased at what could be underneath and he found himself wondering. It looked expensive and he had to wonder if she was a kept woman. That brought a frown to his face, although if she belonged to someone, he would certainly be nearby. He took a quick scan of the area around her. She was alone as far as he could tell, but he would be certain to find out.

A necklace glittered at her throat, playfully pulling his gaze downward to the scooped neckline of her dress. It was another sign that perhaps she already had someone to take care of her but, he mused, she could also come from a wealthy family—a lot of bored people willingly came to syndicates for something more exciting than what they had at home. She presented with a bit of a mystery and he was intrigued as he studied her face before he met her gaze.

She held his gaze for a moment before her eyes fell to the floor and she turned away. He could now see the back of her gown, as the backline plunged to her waist. His appreciative gaze ran down the length of her exposed back—the gentle inward sweep of her lower back was perfect to fit his hand to—before he made his excuses and moved on to the next group.

He went from group to group, doing his duty as a gracious host. All the while his gaze kept moving to the woman with the brown hair. Once, he looked up and locked eyes with her. She held his gaze for a moment before pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she ducked her head, breaking eye contact. She was too far away for him to see if she was blushing and he was consumed with the urge to find out.

More and more heads were turning to look at the new woman, who, upon being stopped, would talk for a short while before moving on. Occasionally, she would laugh, her face lighting up and shoulders shaking with mirth. It was a real laugh… not some tinned replica of something that was supposed to sound dainty and charming and failed on all accounts. Eliran knew that if he wanted an introduction—and he certainly did—that he would need to move in quickly and stake his claim.

(3/3)

Eliran watched the woman with the brown hair as she slowly moved through the room. More than once, she had been stopped by someone, but she always managed to extricate herself after a few minutes of conversation. He needed the means to introduce himself and eyes fell on the wine that she was drinking.

‘Perfect,’ he thought as he swung by the bar to grab a full bottle of the stuff before he headed towards her. Her back was turned as he closed the distance and the wineglass was raised to her lips. He waited until she lowered it before speaking, “How do you like the wine?”

Scarlet glanced over her shoulder before she turned to face him. She paused a beat before answering, “It is quite good—a reflection of a generous host.”

“I see that your manners match your lovely smile,” he replied before raising the bottle. “May I refill your glass?”

Her eyes when to the bottle as Tirastrian slipped past, quietly setting an empty wineglass on a nearby table, before she lifted them to look at Falconsky. Her lips tugged a smile as mirth danced in her eyes, “I think I could stand another glass.”

She had a sense of humor and wasn’t afraid to use it, he thought with a small chuckle, first filling her glass then the one that Tirastrian left for himself. He set the bottle on the table. “I think you already know who I am,” he said lifting the glass to take a drink as he looked out over the people gathered. “But that puts me at a disadvantage, which I do not like.” He glanced down at her, “What is your name?”

“My name is Calandre Embertide,” she inclined her head as she spoke. “I do know who you are but…” she tilted her head up to look at him, one finger tapping on her cheek, “I think you do not get the opportunity to introduce yourself often.”

“You are correct, people usually come to me and I am getting rusty on introductions,” he replied. “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Eliran Falconsky,” his lips curved into a smile and he gave a small bow with a flourish, “your generous host.”

Humility wasn’t one of his virtues, Scarlet decided, but then again, one did not get to his position in the world of underground crime if one was humble. He was proving to be intelligent and she figured that it should be an interesting evening.

She let a smile creep across her face. “I am very pleased to meet you Mr…”

“Eliran,” he interrupted her as her lips moved to speak his name formally. “Call me Eliran… and I shall call you Caladndre. No need to be formal here, is there?”

The words were spoken as a command and since he seemed to be waiting for her to respond, she knew she had to choose her words carefully.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Eliran,” the smile widened, as if she were happy to be on a first name basis with him.

They chatted for the better part of an hour. She had become so adept at maneuvering her way through conversations about her past to cover up her lack of memory that it was easy to navigate the questions that he had thrown at her. There were questions that she evaded, but he seemed content with the answers that she gave.

Tirastrian appeared on occasion to see that the wine glasses stayed full and once, he replaced Eliran’s with a small amount of wine in making it seem as if he had finished the red liquid. The switch had gone so smoothly that Scarlet had missed it.

“Why don’t we go out into the garden for some fresh air?” Eliran suggested, although his tone indicated that it was not a request.

He motioned to one of his guards as he continued, “I need to see my man of affairs about another bottle of wine, this one from my personal cellar.” He placed a hand on her shoulder then lightly ran his fingers down the length of her back before gently pressing his palm against the bare skin just above her hips, pushing her slightly towards the guard.

The room was crowded and getting uncomfortably warm, filled with the smells of bodies and alcohol. Despite that there was a bit of a chill outside tonight, the opportunity to get a breath of fresh air was welcome, so Scarlet did not mind in a bit being directed out. She was acutely aware of the warm hand pressed against her back, its path there nothing short of a caress.

“Escort Miss Embertide to the garden, I will join her shortly,” Eliran instructed the guard as his hand lingered on her back a few moments longer before pulling away.

(1/2)

Scarlet turned and walked away with the guard. She glanced over her shoulder at Eliran, who was watching her with a curious expression. She let her lips curve into a small smile before slowly turning and following the guard outside. She was acutely aware of all the stares that she was receiving. It was rather unnerving. She wasn’t used to commanding such attention. Being a rogue meant that she needed to stay invisible and she was able to stand in a crowd full of people without anyone ever knowing that she was there. Not tonight though. Everyone was aware of Falconsky and in turn, aware of the woman who was monopolizing his time.

Eliran watched the woman called Calandre walk away. The look she gave him over her shoulder was not one of lust but it stirred something in him. She had answered his questions openly for the most part and had asked a few of her own—personal questions about foods, wine, music—things that most women in his circle did not bother to ask. He was content to let her keep some of her secrets for now.

Tirastrian appeared at his elbow. The man was quiet, discreet, and loyal—all the things that Eliran valued in an employee. Tirastrian had been with him for some time now, starting out as a bedraggled man appearing at his doorstep in worn clothing who wanted a new life. Eliran took him in and had not been disappointed. Slowly, Tirastrian became one of his most trusted men.

“Bring me bottle of red from the cellar,” Eliran said, not bothering to turn his attention from the retreating figure of Calandre. He liked the way she moved—smooth and well-balanced, the slight away of her hips giving hint of suppleness that was innate. He wasn’t the only one who was watching her and he knew that he was wise in sending a guard to the garden with her.

“Of course,” Tirastrian nodded. He didn’t need to be told what bottle of red to pull—he knew it was one of the rare and expensive bottles that were rarely touched. He hid his smile; Scarlet had Eliran’s attention and was holding it. “Am I to understand that she is to be treated well?”

It was a code phrase that they had developed to indicate that Eliran intended to spend some time involved in intimate activities with the woman in question.

“See that she has anything she wants,” Eliran replied.

“Sir?”

The answer surprised Tirastrian. While Eliran could be generous with his female companions, he never gave instructions to give them anything they wanted. Before he could consider the information, Eliran continued.

“Have a room prepared for her in my private wing. She will be staying the night.” He turned to look at Tirastrian, who was regarding him nonplussed. “Most women are not worth keeping, simply make use of them and move on,” he explained to the confused man. “Should I find one that is worth keeping, then such intimacies are best kept for later—the woman in question needs to know that I value her for more than just physical pleasure. I imagine the first night we spend together will simply be conversation a way to get to know one another. Perhaps a stolen kiss or two…” his voice trailed off as he smiled.

“Of course,” Tirastrian said again, a small sense of worry forming at the mention that Scarlet would be staying the night. She wasn’t, of course, but still it might present a problem, especially when she disappeared. “I shall bring your wine and fresh glasses to the garden. Should I have a tray prepared as well?”

“Not yet, wait about an hour for the tray and send it to my private suite—with another bottle of wine and some port,” Eliran turned away from Tirastrian as he spoke and without another word, made his way to the garden to relieve the guard.

Eliran had enjoyed the way Calandre’s soft skin had felt under his hand and he was eager to move to a more private area to continue his evening with her. His guard would see that the garden was cleared out of any guests once he arrived. It was too early for them to retire to his private rooms—after all, he wanted to work carefully with her and show her that she could be worth more to him than just a single night.

He also knew that he was ignoring his guests, but then again, an opportunity had presented itself and he would take it. By the time he did retire with Calandre to his private rooms, everyone would know that he had laid claim to her.

Tirastrian watched him go with mixed feelings. On one hand, he was happy to note that Falconsky did not seem to be paying a bit of attention to how much he was drinking. On the other, his employer was acting off the expected script where Scarlet was concerned. Over all, things were working out well and in a few hours, it would all be over and Scarlet would fade into the darkness and soon be forgotten.

(2/2)

Kel'tira Sunblaze

Light be blessed, Light be praised...

I am so relieved that is over with and done and behind us. I am glad Cyaer came to me, first, because I could not bring myself to face him. I was afraid of him, what he might say to me. I am, however, glad to have no more sleepless nights worrying I did something to him that I would never be able to remedy.

So I am glad, on that note, to have that conflict behind us. I am also, as always, grateful to have Nic back with me. I missed him...

I stumbled across him, where he fell asleep, on the bench in the Royal Exchange. He looked so sweet, so innocent, laying there, he looked more relaxed than I have seen him in a long time. He always looks so relaxed when he sleeps, and I savor that, the look on his face when he is not awake, not worrying. Does he dream of me just as I dream of him?

I should set this book aside, I have a cold, and I have some things I need to get in order before the meeting later.

Death, it surrounds us all...but it is not yet my time...they set a trap for me..those damned alliance,but it will be alright they helped me...they helped me escape I am free and I alive..I'm sure they sent some crier to announce my death, and I will allow fellowship to believe my death I need to train...mentaly and physically I need to reachy peak and I will return the shadow lord I once was...I will kill Viragona when the time arrives, it is time I took on another,an apprentice or acolyte of some sort..fellowship will not recognize me...I will have to apologize for making them believe I am dead..but I will not strike until it is time for Viragona to die!

Auxilia....haha, It is strange..as I find the words touch my lips...I feel strongly for her...I hope she is well on her mission...I...Lo....I cannot say that yet...I must be sure...I will tell my brother xal to look after her until I make my comeback.

I found the perfect hideout to train..and to stay wilst I Play dead, Greymane Manor as its called...this will be my new home.

((reachy? XD! Reach*))

***
The Rose watched from a corner as Scarlet left Falconsky’s side and was escorted to the gardens by a guard. A part of her hoped that the woman with the brown hair was being thrown out, but she knew that if Scarlet was getting tossed out on her ear, it would be out the front door, not into the gardens.

She could see Falconsky across the room speaking to his man of affairs. After a few moments, the man headed towards the hallway that would take him to the cellar and Falconsky made his way outside. As he neared her, she stood straighter, lowering her wine glass to better give him a view of her dress as it dipped dangerously low across her chest.

“Good evening,” she purred as he passed.

Falconsky did not break stride, but merely gave her a polite nod.

The Rose flushed an angry color as she glared at his back. He had failed to stop and admire her. Certainly, she had turned the heads of a few men here, but it was Falconsky’s attention she needed if she was going to pull this mission out from under Scarlet. She knew that she was risking a lot to be here tonight and there would probably be hell to pay if she were caught. Still, the jealousy and malice churned and she wanted to show up her young rival and make certain that Scarlet would not take her place.

***
The garden was scented with flowers, earth and leaves. Somewhere in the recessed shadows a fountain burbled, the sound of its spilling waters blending with the sound of insects to create music that was only heard in the dark hours between dusk and dawn. It as a still night, the sky was clear and the moon was full. The pale yellow orb illuminated the grounds in a soft romantic glow that was perfect for lovers.

The guard had rousted one drunk and one couple who had been entwined in a passionate embrace within some bushes. The guard had been told to deliver the drunk to the main room and the couple to the guest wing. While Eliran wanted the garden to himself and Calandre, he wasn’t going to deny anyone else at the gathering the pleasure of another’s company. He just didn’t want them interrupting his pleasant evening.

Scarlet walked slowly with Eliran along a darkened path their footsteps crunching on the pebbles underneath their feet. His hand was once again cradling the small of her back, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin there. The unseasonably cool night air only made her more aware of his warm hand against her bare skin. They strolled in silence for awhile, meandering their way through several short paths before coming to a small, secluded area that had been set with wineglasses and a bottle of wine.

“I trust that you enjoyed the previous bottle, my dear?” Eliran asked as he picked up the new bottle and opened it with a smooth motion.

“I did,” she replied as peered at the bottle in his hand. The cool air felt even colder against her lower back now that the warmth of his hand was gone. “I am to expect another boon of your generosity?”

“I am a most gracious host,” he said with a smile as he held out the bottle to her.

The words were not spoken lightly, but held an invitation. It wasn’t any number of the lines that she had been expecting as part of a seduction; there were no silly lines about the color of her eyes in the moonlight or how her skin felt like rose petals. In fact, nothing of what he said sounded tired or practiced. He managed to convey interest through body language and tone of voice.

(1/3)

She peered at the label on the bottle that was held out to her, trying to make out the words in the moonlight. When she finally did read them, her eyes went wide. He was not sparing any expense on her.

“You do not have to open your private collection for me,” she said instinctively and immediately wished she could take the words back.

“No? I thought that you would appreciate such a gesture.”

She had made a mistake—she knew it the moment the words left her mouth—and hoped that her next words would cover it.

“Do you want me to have this?” she lowered her voice and pinned her eyes on the bottle, not looking at him. She hoped that the words would appease him, even if it took a lot of willpower to deliver them in a submissive manner.

“I would like you very much,” he paused momentarily, “to enjoy my hospitality.”

“Then I would have to be a fool to say no, wouldn’t I?” This time she did lift her gaze to his, feeling every bit the forgery that she was right now. His words held more meaning than just the wine, she knew, and a ripple of unease traced down her spine.

He gave a small laugh, unaware of her discomfort and smiled. “I think you and I will get along quite well,” he said as he poured two glasses of wine. “I enjoy a woman who has a sense of humor. My work can be quite stressful and having someone who can help me laugh would be most welcome.”

Her reaction to the very rare and expensive bottle told him that while she was not used to such luxuries, she could certainly appreciate them. She would learn in time that when he offered something, he meant for her to have it.

He held out a glass to her, holding onto the delicate stem after she wrapped her fingers around it. She held her breath as he studied her face, his eyes taking their time as they roamed over her eyes, cheeks, nose, chin and lips. Slowly, he relinquished the glass and picked up his own.

She waited patiently while he studied her and when he turned to his glass, she took of a sip of her wine to cover just how uncomfortable his scrutiny had made her. In spite of that, she had to wonder what he saw. The idea that for once she wasn’t the invisible woman on the sidelines lifted her spirits, even though she knew that this would be over in a few hours and she would fade back into obscurity and be content to stay… or would she? This was not a man who she would bring into her life, or more appropriately, move into his. But she found that having his undivided attention was heady. He was domineering—and she didn’t like playing this part that she was cast in, but he was also kind, witty, intelligent and wholly alive.

The flavor of the wine spread across her tongue like a lover and she knew that she would probably never have another opportunity to drink something of this caliber. This was something rare and special and she felt honored that Eliran had deemed her worthy enough to have it. The price she was paying for the opportunity to have such a delicacy was high—and she knew that she was willing to forgo such a luxury again so she would not have to put herself back in this uncomfortable position.

“You are something rare indeed,” Eliran’s voice drifted over to her, the words spoken softly. He took a sip of the wine and gestured to the bottle. “What do you think?"

“I have never had anything quite like this,” she replied truthfully, letting her mouth curve into a happy smile. “Nothing so exquisite…”

(2/3)

She stopped speaking because he had set his glass down and slowly reached out and ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her shoulder before he leaned in and gently kissed her. It was light and lingering and he made no move to deepen it or pull her closer. Finally, he broke the kiss threading his hand through her hair as he pulled back and looked down at her.

“No, nothing so exquisite,” he whispered as he leaned in slightly, his warm breath feathering her temple.

“I…” the word was breathed out as looked up at him—easy to do since he was quite a bit taller than her five-foot-five frame. She was saved from having to react further when two voices carried across the garden, neither of which she recognized.

“Falconsky is not to be disturbed!” the first man sounded adamant.

“I came to this gathering to broker a deal and I need to speak with him or else take my business elsewhere!” A human, looking annoyed charged into sight and she could hear her companion give a weary sigh and take a step away from her.

“Falconsky, we need a moment to discuss some business.” The man stopped and looked from Eliron to Scarlet and back again. “She can wait,” the man said unapologetically, “I do not have much time and I need to know if you can deliver.”

“This will be but a mo…” Eliran turned to speak to Scarlet, but stopped when he realized that she had taken her wineglass and was moving some distance away. She was a smart woman, he thought. It was a good move on her part; he did not want her wrapped up in business.

“Where did you find the chit?” the man looked after Scarlet now that he was certain he had Falconsky’s attention. “She’s new in the circuit, isn’t she?”

“She is unavailable,” Eliran said evenly. “Now, what is it you need?”

Scarlet wasn’t interested in whatever weapon’s deal was about to happen now—Tirastrian would track it. She needed to stay on track on keeping in her host’s good graces and get into those private rooms. It took conscious effort not to pull back from the kiss and another moment to respond to it—she hoped that he thought that he had taken her by surprise. She had just closed her eyes and pretended that it was another man who was leaning over her, his lips gently pressing against hers and not some crime lord’s. Eliran had to believe that he had her, hook, line and sinker.

His business finished twenty minutes later, Eliran stepped up behind Scarlet and lightly ran his hands over her arms. They felt cold and he knew that she had to be getting chilled in her short sleeved dress. Unable to resist, he leaned forward and inhaled her scent. Her skin and hair smelled of something soft and slightly sweet—like orange blossoms. There were no clouds of cloying perfume around her, whatever she had not did not permeate much past her person—one had to be close to her to be aware of it.

“You are cold,” he spoke softly in her ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin there. “We shall go in. We can continue our conversation in my private library where we will not be interrupted.”

(3/3)

A new small leather bound journal.

I have had no chance to seek out Hearthglen. I'm sure Karamia will be angry with me...I must make the time, it's important to both of us. She is the most important person in my life, I will make the time...I must.

I had a little time to kill before the meeting this evening, and found a delightful little white kitten for Karamia. I hope she likes it, it seems playful enough, and its purr tells me it's content. Perhaps after the meeting, I will give it to her. (She loved it by the way. I knew she would.)

After the meeting, Mia wanted to take me to Northrend, to a place she had been before. I was up for it, and followed behind her. The land was pretty, but it was the sky that captivated me. It was near dusk, and the sky was painted in the oranges and reds of late evening. But what made it spectacular was the way the setting sun's light touched my Mia's hair, highlighting the strands in red, and gold...my heart nearly wept at how beautiful she looked...my sweet angel.

We fought side by side, and aided many. Her eyes flashed as her form became a weapon...casting spells, and slamming her mace upon the heads of our foes. I remember looking at her, as she was silhouetted against a burning hut, her hair a nimbus of red around her head, her shield and mace at the ready...and I thought...she is mine, that girl right there, she's mine. I'm so proud of her, and so in love with her.

Soon, I will lay upon my bed with her at my side, and I will awaken with her again by my side. One of those little things I look forward to when we marry. To be with her, to walk and fight by her side, and to hold her at night...simply things really, but they fill my dreams, and my heart. Someday...soon.

Kel'tira Sunblaze

(The latest entry is comprised of three words, scrawled in large letters across the page, filling the paper.)

I hate colds.

Kel'tira Sunblaze stands in front of the board in the Hall, staring blindly at the strip of paper. Carefully lifting her quill, she writes slowly, occasionally muttering something under her breath as she is forced to write awkwardly.

Solorin Sunsorrow -- Defending his people.

With another name added to the list of the dead, Kel sighs, rocking back on her heels and almost tripping over the earthenware mug that sits on the floor behind her. Sneezing, cursing, and steadying herself against the wall, she turns to slump to the floor, taking a drink of steaming chicken broth from her mug. Wrinkling her nose slightly, she sneezes again, looking pitiful.

Lost in thought beneath the Rising Sun Fellowship's notice board, she is oblivious to the girl walking in, Talla.

"Hello, cousin."

Kel starts, nearly spilling her broth, and then rises up to face her shorter cousin, "What do you want, Talla," she says tiredly, "I have said it a thousand times, you cannot join us."

"Oh," Talla purrs dangerously, "I have no desire to join you, or your petty, stupid 'Fellowship'. I only want to make your life hell. And trust me, Lady Sunblaze," she laughs mockingly, "I know plenty of ways to do that."

Turning on her heel, the younger Elf prances out of the room with a clearly calculated stride that makes her hair bounce in ringlets, and Kel can only stare after her.

A hardbound leather book with a plain cover

I found her in Silvermoon City. And I could see the fear in her eyes when we met. And I could do nothing to allay those fears.

We were monsters. We killed for the Lich King, innocents...men, women, and children...there were none safe from us. We are monsters.

We talked, Hana and I, and she told me who I had been...a warrior of some skill it would seem. And then, she told me something I was unprepared to hear...and I sensed her fear in telling me, she had killed me to protect others, small children.

It tore my mind apart, my first impulse was to destroy her, to slay her where she stood. I could not look at her, and I turned away. I...I...found myself at an impasse - to kill her and go on being a monster, or to move above and beyond what I was, and seek something else.

When I turned back to her, she had stepped back, and there was a very real fear in her eyes and in her manner. I spoke softly, and told her I forgave her...she did not kill her brother, though in her mind she felt she had, but she killed a thing the Scourge had made me. It was not her brother. Her brother died protecting and fighting for those he loved. His sister, his family, his friends...I knew none of this until then.

And then she asked me to stay, to join her fellowship. and meet someone within the guild. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. I felt nothing, and yet a small part of me wanted to hold her too.

I am undead, I have no feelings. I was a monster, I am not now. I hate my existence, and I have been given a second chance. I am torn. Where am I going? What will I become? Who am I now?

An artist could go a lifetime and never find a muse, an inspiration that allows his true skills as an artist to flow with ease and grace. The search for such a one is often fruitless, and many a floundering artist has left his art, for a more benign living, forsaking his natural gifts for nothing close to that creative spark that burns within them. And by the gods, I believe I have found mine.

It was only by happenstance that I saw her, and I almost, almost missed her. I was leaving, and turned around to catch a glimpse of her again. And there she was, right in front of me. I caught her eyes, and I saw a smile tug at her lips, when I told her I had come back to see her one more time. What kind of line was that, it sounded so lame, but I merely spoke the truth.

She was either flattered, or willing to see how far I could falter into stupidity, I know not which, but I found myself sitting with her on a bench in The Royal Exchange park. It was while I was talking to her that she leaned back and relaxed against the bench that I had to, no needed to, take my pencils in hand and sketch her. I explained that I was an artist and I wanted to show her my sketches, omigod, it sounded so cliche as I write this...and she said she would wait while I literally ran to get my sketchbook and pencils.

I figured I would find her gone, a pretty girl having fun on the starving artist, but she sat there resting in the same position I had wanted to sketch her. I'm sure I looked none too professional as I fumbled for my pencils, and opened the sketchbook to a clean page.

I cannot explain it, looking at her, then at the page, it was the most profound moment in my life. She was there on my page, in striking detail, her hair, her face, her everything...and my pencil flew over the page, as I drew her on the paper. I have never had such an experience as that, and I finished. I looked at what my hands had drawn, and I had captured her very essence on the page. I took it to her to let her see, and she was very complimentary. I asked her if I could do another pose, I didn't want to lose her or the light. My god, the light, it adored her facial features, and I needed to capture it in pencil. And she said yes!

While the first etching was a waist up style bust of her features, the second was a full pose while she sat on the bench. She was sitting there with her hands in her lap, and I began sketching the whole picture, and went back to add details. And then I caught something in her eyes, and I drew what I saw. It was almost a desire, a want...and it came out on the page. She was impressed when I showed it to her.

I sat beside her, and asked her to look through the sketchbook. I was so entranced by her beauty, I placed my arm behind her, as she looked at my various skecthes, and as I leaned closer to watch her reactions to the sketches, she look up a moment...and I stole a kiss. A gentle kiss, but a kiss all the same. And I found I had overstepped my boundaries, I had taken her by surprise, and she wasn't expecting the kiss.

And why would she? She hardly knew me, we had only met but a few minutes ago, and yet time seemed to have stood still for me. I apologized, I think I even pleaded with her, but I'm not sure, and had the audacity to ask her to have dinner with me. I think my heart failed me, I know my ears had, as she said yes.

I am on pins and needles as I wait for dinner time to arrive. I took my nervousness out on several small dungeon expeditions, and found myself a capable guardian and protector. Since I have met her, my life seems to have turned around. Who would have thought?

The black leather bound tome is locked in a chest and trapped. Only Jahana has the key.

My biggest nightmare came true! My brother came back to me...but he is now a death knight! My fear was great as I followed him, he seemed on edge...gritty...cold. He was not the same elf I knew. I was afraid...for the only second time in my life...I had to face the killer that shared my heritage.

I don't know where I found the courage to speak to him, maybe some part of me wanted forgiveness. I wondered at how much he remembered. I was cautious up until he seemed to recall something...I nearly panicked! I scrambled to find something to say. I blurted out half truths and some stretching of the circumstances. To me relief he bought it. I was able to touch him and offered a place for him. He was so cold...so devoid of emotion.

I took him to Kel and got him into the Fellowship. This might be a mistake, if the events of the past have not completely left his mind he may recall more detail. I only hope I can deal with it...my sin of a small lie, a price to pay for the needs of survival. If only he were able to remember the fun times we had...the fights were only a small part of our lives.

I train diligently and ask for special training against death knights. Light knows if he ever learns or remembers the whole truth, I will be fighting for my life once again.

In my relief at getting my brother into the Fellowship I found a very interesting paladin. He seemed kind and caring, something a lot of the paladins seem to forget. He fed a stray cat, he drank milk and water. I am amazed as I follow him about. First of all to practice my tracking skills, but it became a game of follow and hide.

Then I dropped my stealth and met him coming into the Inn, and he walked out again. I was amused when he returned to give me some cheesy line. I also needed practice at this other skill I am requested to use. It was ridiculously easy to lead him on and flatter him into thinking I actually was interested. How gullible he was, he even bought my innocent surprise when he had the nerve to kiss me!

This game is fun and I may have to see how long I can continue to inspire and tease him. Neryth, my handsome young paladin. Wait...did I just write that? He is not mine...he is a practice in my skills of enticement and not anyone I really want...his eyes are pretty though. And he is built so strong, like a rock, a solid mass of muscle. He is talented as an artist however, I cannot lie to him about that. I will send Sydric to him and see if having a Patron will get him the recognition he deserves. Why am I doing this? I am alone and meant to be this way!

I cannot allow a simple fantasy about dreamy emerald eyes that roam my features like they were looking at a goddess...no!! Stop that! Remember the words of my instructor! Do not get attached! Besides...he is simply looking at me as an artist, and they are notoriously fickle. Always moving on to the next model with no care for the hearts they break.

I also used my skills as a negotiator and some small use of an enticing smile to get a gullible blacksmith to make me some of the special components I need for my engineering. He was quite nice actually. I may offer him some small token as repayment. He would be a good one to have at my back. Or should I say I could follow him into battle and know he would be strong enough to hold an enemies attention while I sneak up behind them. He is in the Fellowship now, so I can use his skills and offer him some of mine in return. I like this kind of arrangement. Thoinar is a good warrior, proud to serve his people and nice too.

Triana

What is this nonsense? A journal? Really?

Why would I keep a journal?

I suppose it could be amusing, interesting, even, or maybe just a chronicle of my exploits, my gains and the inevitable losses.

Very well, I will write in it.

I am Triana. Triana the Fickle. The Nameless. The Heartbreaker. Only, that is, if you so choose to listen to the people I grew up with. The Matron at the orphanage always got frustrated when I would walk away from someone and leave them broken into pieces emotionally, because they had thought they would be the one to finally catch me. Triana the Flighty.

Tria, to most.

So, it was, as is imaginable, a relief when the time came for me to leave, thank the Light.

I left the poor, sniveling children behind and took the blessings of the Matron, a bow and quiver of arrows, with me to the training grounds. I liked it there, all right, I suppose, it got boring quickly.

That was when my teacher assigned me a partner. Valenon... Vale... He has good 'thistle, and isn't too bad of a person all around, certainly handsome in a rugged sort of way.

And then there's Pero'thas. He'll be amusing to toy with.

A new small leather bound journal.

I spent the night with the woman I love in my arms. She cuddled close, and I held her close. And it was not that cold. I awoke some time in the early morning light, and gazed upon my Karamia. Her face was relaxed, and she breathed gently as she slept. The golden hues of the sunrise spread across the courtyard where we had retired, and as they did, they found us. I leaned on my arm, shading her from the bright light, and watched her, allowing her a her more minutes of rest. And allowing me to gaze upon her countenance, she is truly an angel to me - her hair spread upon the blanket, and...I cannot find the words to express what I see...it makes my heart swell in my chest, and I hold back the tears I feel trying to come. She is my joy, and I am so enraptured with her.

I think back to my other journal's early entries, and how I thought I loved her. Looking back, I was only infatuated with her, but how that first puppy love has grown. From that to friendship, to something deeper, and more meaningful. And finally, to love, a truer, purer love than I have ever felt before. I would give my life for her, and gladly. She is the woman of my desires, dreams, and all I need in a woman. She is my Karamia...and that is enough for me.

I leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, and I watched her grimace, and rub her nose. I followed with another, and this time her eyes opened, and I smiled down at her. And she smiled up at me. We kissed a slow, gentle kiss...that started my day with my heart racing. And we greeted each other, and we snuggled back under our cover for just a few more minutes, enjoying each others closeness, and warmth.

Is it any wonder I look forward to our someday, our day to vow our hearts and love to one another?

The days are melting into each other, and the summer is nearing its end. The heat is oppressive, and the humidity close and thick.

And I lay upon my bed, where my thoughts go to a certain muse who has invaded my consciousness. I have several pages of sketches I have done, poses that she never posed for...some are simple facial sketches...and I cannot forget her lips as I kissed her. I remember her eyes, and her expression...I have sketched them in my book too. Some of my best work sits in a few pages from a few moments I spent with a dream.

Will I ever see her again, I wonder? She has captured my imagination, and dare I say my heart. I replay that brief interlude over and over, and I catch the grace she has in her movements. The gentle smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth, and the ways her eyes dance. Ah, heart, you are falling in love with someone you know nothing about. And yet you are falling, aren't you?

My body is hard, and I put on my armor. And go to the practice field. I have noticed another who comes here on occasion, and he seems almost driven to destroy the practice dummies. I on the other hand, work the dummies, hitting their swinging arms with shields and swords, ducking, and parrying their attacks. My skills are not in destroying the dummies, but in mitigating their attacks to my shield, and guarding those I protect. That is my choice of careers, to be an effective barrier, to protect those I guard. And I find my skills improving. And my instructors mention it in their guidance and tutoring.

My thoughts wander to a dark-haired beauty, with dancing eyes. And I close my practice session here. One must concentrate on one thing at a time. Focus. And yet her visage haunts me, her lips, her smile...ah, will I ever see her again?

A hardbound leather book with a plain cover

I wander the areas around Silvermoon City. I search for nodes of ore, and come across a small red flower. The scent of it is intoxicating, almost a narcotic...

Images assail my thoughts...of disjointed moments...of bouts of uncontrollable anger...

I find myself slaying several beings of magic, wraiths and such, and I feel their energies flow over my body...and I find I enjoy the feeling...

Again I am hounded by images, this time of euphoria...and hunger, but not for food, something more...an aching need...nothing like my current hunger...something dark, darker than...?

Intoxicating? I can not feel that any longer, my being is not about such foolishness. Joy? I feel no joy, but yet...I remember enjoying? I...I...struggle to remember...the thoughts and feelings flit just out of my reach...so close, and yet so far.

Am I begininng to remember? The thoughts are random, and broken, yet they seek to tell me something...but what?