World of Warcraft®

The warrior toyed with the letter in her hand, the name 'Azurick" scrawled neatly across one side of the folded parchment in black ink. Deciding against sending it just yet, she tossed it into the small pack at her feet, turning her attention to the messy bundle of parchment on her lap.


I have decided that there are at least two people who needn't know what is going on with me at this moment, for one is surely to tell the other. And I don't want them to.

I have decided I will not wait any longer for Azurick and his plans, I don't need his help anyways, and I have waited too long already. I don't exactly understand what plans could be taking him so damned long to develop, or why there even needs to be one any more complicated than; Go to Pandaria. Find Alen. Bring Alen back. We know where he has run off to, I'm almost positive we know...why, so I see this as nothing more than delays.

And if Azurick doesn't come, at all, then everything I have thought or said about him, might as well be true.

Kel'tira also needn't know where I am, or what I am doing. She doesn't understand why I am here, or what I am doing, and she never will. Therefore, there is no reason for her to come along with me, sticking her nose into business that isn't hers, and that she shouldn't worry about.

I don't need their help, or anyone else's, as I am -fully- capable of doing it myself.

I may have proved I cannot do this drunk, but that doesn't mean anything.

Alenthis snapped to attention, testing his arm. It saluted perfectly. He nodded to the dark priest and headed outside to line up for battle. By now, Alenthis was used to the cold harsh realities of war. He had forced himself to. Afterall, who really cared about him anyways. He grabbed his gear and formed up with the rest of the Horde.

Cyaer stared at the ceiling above him, the cobwebs seemed to mock him, and he thought he could make out words and pictures amongst the spidery cloth. He shivered from chill in the air, laying on the wooden table, naked.

He closed his eyes, and tried to close his mind to the previous night. His kidnapper had been insatiable, and was constantly interrupting his troubled sleep, to satisfy her urges. He had tried everything to block her out, from naming all the different fish he had caught to every ingredient to every recipe he knew, nothing worked, or if it seemed to, several hard slaps to his face or punches to his body made him aware of her.

He was left to his own thoughts for a few hours, and then she would return. He was thirsty and hungry, cold, and felt exhausted. He tried to think, but knew no one had any idea he was in this situation. If he was going to escape it would be through his own efforts and ingenuity. But he felt so weak, and drained. He had to think...

It was early morning, and she arrived all excited, and came to tell him her news. She had made contact with the warlock's people, and they would be coming for him, with her reward. She came over to smile down at him, "I'll miss you, Cyaer, we had a lot of fun didn't we?" she whispered in his ear.

"You had "fun" b*tch, I was merely a tool in your own sick pleasures, don't include me in your "fun", he whispered hoarsely. He could see the fire flash in her eyes, and a slap, then a hard punch to his unprotected ribs caused him to groan with pain.

"Defiant to the end, eh Cyaer? So be it." As she turned to leave, he whispered something that she could only barely make out. "What did you say?" she purred.

"Vira will be so happy to see me in this condition, don't you think?" he whispered. "She'll want me all for herself, for her pleasures, and I will not be able to perform...because of you. Oh, yes, I'll be sure to tell her of your hungers and how long you have held me to sate your fires, your own desires. That will make her angry...and kitten, you don't want to make her mad."

"She has many wicked ways to payback those who have offended her. Yes, I imagine you will be joining me in her little dungeon. Soon. She has varied tastes, you might have "fun" with her before I do, as I will need to heal and recuperate. Who knows, she may turn you over to her demons for some light entertainment." He coughed, and tried to swallow, for it had been the longest speech he had been able to speak since being in her "custody". He closed his eyes, and sighed.

The path was vaguely familiar, the sounds of battle fainter than before, and the gurgle of the river more noticeable than her previous visit.

“Aww, it appears to be just a small skirmish here. And I –was- hoping for some Alliance blood today…it is, after all, their fault I’m here.”

Her blades had already been bloodied, coating the tips in a layer of drying blood, as she hadn’t bothered to wipe them off. Claw-like scratches marred her armor, the exposed part of her left arm having been crudely bandaged. The tigers had proved to be a small nuisance, their numbers thinning as she neared closer to the battle.

Yet she still felt, that something was following her, her eyes scanning the bushes for the tell-tale amber eyes of a tiger, but finding nothing.

It wasn’t as if she was hard to follow, or to find. The contents of her packs clanged loudly as she rode, the bit of metal plating that had been broken a day or two before, now loudly flapped about, dislodged again in battle.

“I don’t need to fix this damn thing; I need new armor that’s what…”

Something moved to her right, nearly silent footsteps.

Her head snapped as far right as her faceguard and shoulder armor would allow, only to find a hozen atop its tiger, just a bit too far in the distance to be what she heard. Giving one last look at the bushes to her right, she trained her eyes on the clump of trees ahead of her, willing her journal to still be there.

Movement again, and the strider balked.

Half-falling, half-dismounting from her strider, she reached for her blades, tossing a quick glare to her mount in the process. Nothing. There was nothing scaling the mountainside, and there was nothing lurking in the bushes, only the swinging of a leafy branch showing anything –could- have been there.

“You stupid bird! There isn’t anything there, and you’ve already had plenty of rest on the trip here. I have –no- more time for your stupid antics you big dumb bird!” Her swords found their place in their sheaths, bits of the drying blood flaking off. Gripping the reins of her Hawkstrider, she tugged them hard, nearly dragging the animal along behind her.

Dark stains marked the patches of crushed grass beneath the clump of trees, a bloodied talisman the only thing remaining behind of the human. So the body had been taken away, along with the weapons left behind. And so, most likely, had her journal.

Her plated boots left gouges in the ground as she kicked at it, the blood splotches faint and darkened. Small bits of cloth had also remained behind, their blue and yellow colour suggesting they belonged to the human.

But there was something gold, glinting faintly as it peeked out from under one of the bushes. So they -hadn’t- looked hard enough.

The warrior sank to her knees, oblivious to any movement behind her, her hands gripping and pulled the dirtied leather journal from under the bush, her finger tracing the gold lettering of her name on the cover.

The strider squawked, a panicked, almost cautionary squawk. And the Warrior rose, catching sight of something moving to her left this time.

“We should get out of here…you’re right.”

With one final squawk, and a red leather journal added to its burden, the Hawkstrider willingly followed Lyrilia back the way they came, this time, headed for Domination point.

A few pages of tattered parchment stuck out from the back of the journal, muddy stains wrinkling the edges of its pages.

I’ve thrown my guildstone in the river. I wish not to speak to anyone of the fellowship, or my family, as I know they must have stolen mine while I was sleeping before I left, and why I took another one before I left for Pandaria, I don’t know.

Because I don’t need nor want their help, and they will just have to deal with that.

I’ve obviously found my journal, in worse condition than I left it in, but I also found it much more quickly than I had anticipated, which gives me more time. Yet not enough time to afford a trip back to Honeydew, not for my mounts needs or mine. My arm will be fine, and with my healing potions, I hope to be healed by the time I reach domination point…

Hopefully Kel and Azurick won’t figure out where I have gone, as I know my family has.

I threw that stone in the river, too.

I’m heading straight for Domination Point, and whatever battle has ensued there, hopefully not running into any of those damned tigers, they’ve cost me enough time and blood already, I don’t need to lose any more of either of those.

I need to get to Alen quickly; hopefully something hasn’t already happened to him already…and if something has, even though I feel as if it’s Azurick’s fault this has taken so long, with all of his ‘planning’…I had half a mind to say he doesn’t really care the other night….

I know everything he said to me that one time was true…and this is all my fault…I’ve gone and done it again…it’s not like Azurick said anything to Alen that caused him to run off and get himself killed. And if he’s already done just that…then I might just wish Kel hadn’t saved me.

Because I seem to do much more harm than good to people I care about. People I love.

Ah, another day in paradise, and I find myself being called upon to aid the villagers here in Honeydew. A majority of the complaints are simple wounds and muscles aches that a simple spell relieves the pain, bruising, and reduces the chances of infection. Kiki smiles at me with appreciation, and I smile back at her.

These pandarens are not what I had initially thought. They are so much more, and I find myself having...feelings for them. What is happening to me here? This land is much more than what it appears, and I have never felt so alive, so aware, or a part of something larger than myself. Light, I never felt the light or its power like I have in my life than here.

And I find myself falling in love with this land, its people, and its culture. I close my eyes, and I can barely remember Silvermoon...am I bewitched? What kind of magic is this I feel here?

I did something I have never done in my life, and I'm glad I did it. Kiki had refilled my tea, and brought me a piece of her delicious sweet fruit pie, and as she turned to leave, I gave her a playful swat. She stopped, turned, and I looked into those beautiful eyes of hers, and she bent over and kissed me...on the lips! And I pulled her into my arms and kissed her back!

We spent the night together, and I feel no regret in doing so. I am beginning to understand Cyaer's love of these people. I...I...love it here myself, and what it is doing to me.

A cold sweep of wind greeted her as she landed the drake on the ridge that served as the boundary between the Borean Tundra and Sholazar Basin. Kel’Tira stood there, gazing out over the landscape; her body was tense and her demeanor unhappy. She was recovering from a terrible fall, the bandages and bruises currently hidden under the plate armor that she wore. The woman with the brown hair wasn’t certain if Kel needed to be out here, but she wasn't going to voice that thought. Kel had reached out to her for a reason, her voice hesitant and scared, enough to worry the rogue.

“Kel? What is wrong?”

Kel turned and looked at her, her face filled with worry. “Cy is missing.”

This was unexpected news… the young rogue was not an easy target. She listened as Kel explained the last time that she had seen him and her numerous attempts to contact him over the past three days. He had not responded, which was not like him. The woman with the brown hair nodded slowly, her mind working over the various tasks that she would follow in order to track him down.

She looked at Kel; she knew just how upset her friend must be. Her husband had disappeared and been pronounced dead and now as she took steps to move on, Cy disappears. She also knew that Kel would have no business in her current state in tracking Cy down. She was still healing—both physically and mentally—and without knowing who or what had happened to him, the woman with the brown hair felt that something quiet and discreet was currently in order. Right now, she didn’t think that Kel could be quiet or discreet as the tension in her was resonating in waves.

One thing was for certain, if the warlock Vira had taken Cy, then Kel should not be anywhere near. The warlock had proven that she could easily take down a paladin and Kel was too vulnerable in her current state—she would be easy prey.

Now for the first of two hard tasks, convincing Kel to stay behind while she looked for Cy. The other was convincing her husband that she needed to do this and have him not be upset that she was out looking. The woman with the brown hair took a deep breath and braced herself.

He had closed his eyes to gain some kind of relief from the dryness of his throat. If he had kept his eyes open he would have seen the effect his words had on her. Her face had drained of color, and her eyes glanced around the small room in almost a panic. She looked down at the man laying on the table, and she almost slapped him, but held back her hand, afraid now if what he said may be true.

"Wake up, Cyaer. If this is some kind of trick, so help me, " her voice wavered, not as self confident as it had the past few days, and he slowly opened his eyes. "What do you mean by what you said?"

"Water," he whispered hoarsely, as he looked up into her face. She hesitated a moment, and then reached for the mug, and poured some water into it. She brought the edge of the mug to his lips, and tilted it up.

He drank that first swallow, and felt it loosen his parched throat, and he gulped down several more large swallows, the water felt cool and wet, and it refreshed him. And filled him with a new found confidence. As she pulled the mug away, he said only one word, "Food."

"Tell me what you meant first." she said with impatience, as she set the mug on the small table next to where he was bound. "You get nothing more until you explain yourself."

He looked into her eyes, and spoke softly and slowly, "What part did you not understand? She is pure unadulerated evil, she consorts with demons, and finds satisfaction in torture, among other things. She wants me, and has for quite some time, and when she gets me I can only imagine what special "fun" she has planned."

"And quite honestly, not having any food or water these past few days, I won't be able to perform like she will be expecting, and she will be angry having to wait. She will spend that time waiting searching for the one who delayed her "fun"."

"You do know she's hooked up with the militia don't you? And several other big departments of war for the Horde. She will put out a call to find you, and believe me, they will find you." Cyaer swallowed, then continued, "so maybe you have a little food to help me regain my strength."

She looked down into his face, and thought briefly of what he had said, and digested it slowly. He spoke from experience, she could see and hear that in his manner and his voice. He spoke as if he knew her personally, not as some unknown entity. She left his side to seek out some food to feed him with and left the room.

Cyaer closed his eyes again, and could only begin to think of the things Viragona would do once she had him in her clutches. And he sighed, as he flexed his muscles and pulled on the ropes that bound him. They cried out in agony, but he continued doing it until he could hear her returning. He would be prepared, he would not be stiff and slow, but quick, and deadly when he could find a way to escape. He lay still and waited.

The woman was weary as she trudged through the forest alongside her mount. Her stubbornness with refusing to stop by the Pandaren town had caused her to make do with the few bits of food she had brought, and her determination to continue traveling through the night had cost her much needed rest.

Her steps were far from silent, the metal of her boots clanged loudly against any rocks or roots they encountered, her shoulders sore from carrying the two packs and holding up her plate pauldrons. She hadn’t changed the bandages around the wound on her arm, a few more claw marks littering her armor.

But the one thing she had run out of fairly quickly was water. The water skin at her hip was torn and empty; the tiger’s swipe she had dodged caught the leather skin instead of her leg, spilling what little they had left. And she wasn’t entirely sure where she was going, either, or if there was even water in the direction she was going.

Her weapons remained uncleaned, bits of the dried gore flaking off as she walked, sharply tugging at her Hawkstrider’s reins to keep it moving, having already removed one of its bags to carry herself. The animal gave small, half-hearted squawks in reply, not quite as oblivious to their surroundings as the Warrior was.

Something shifted in the shadows, just as unrested as they were, but perhaps not nearly as undersupplied.

It had been spur of the moment when Lyrilia left, taking the three half-packed bags with her, not daring to finish packing them for fear of waking anyone up, as her brother sat asleep in one f the large chairs in her room, supposed to be watching her should she try to escape. But they had both been stupid that night. She was too impatient to leave, not even bothering to sneak into the empty study and grab one of the many maps her brother had acquired, choosing to bring her own half-finished one instead.

She seemed to be quite capable of making stupid decisions since this whole mess started.

It followed them from the bushes, seemingly too small to be a tiger, yet too big to be any of the small forest creatures that scurried through the bushes, occasionally darting out across you path seemingly intent on tripping you. No, it was careful, and as silent as the bushes would allow.
But it didn’t go unnoticed by the Hawkstrider, as anytime the animal caught a glimpse of whatever it was; it moved its weary legs just a bit faster.

Water.

The bird stopped in its tracks, causing Lyrilia to stumble backwards at the sudden resistance on the reins. The strider stretched its head upward, tilting its head to the side before taking off to the left, nearly dragging Lyrilia behind it.

“What are you doing?! Stop it!” She gave a few sharp tugs on the reins, the bird shaking them off as she ran to keep up, tiring quickly under the weight of her armor and the packs she carried. But the strider pressed, on, crashing through the bush in a less than stealthy way.

Gripping onto the saddle of the bird, she yanked on it, Hard. The bird felt it, turning its head to offer her a glare, slowing down enough for her to grab the reins once more.

“Now. Where are you going? I didn’t –tell- you to run off like that! This place isn’t even on my damned map; I don’t need you running off into the light-forsaken forest causing all sorts of noise and time. We don’t have any damned time to spare I don’t need a big stupid bird like you running off on me like this with what little supplies we have left, and wasting whatever energy I had to keep going. We –need- to go the way –I- say, because if I haven’t a clue where we are, you don’t either!” She tugged sharply on the reins, but the Hawkstrider didn’t budge.

It had tolerated her this long, but this was getting too much. Taking a few steps in her direction, the reins fell slack, causing her to fall rather unceremoniously to the ground. Stepping around behind her, the strider gave a few hard pecks on her head, nudging her up and onto her feet.

“Wha-?”



((1/3))

It pushed the dazed warrior forward, squawking loudly at her anytime she stopped, the weariness returning to the both of them as they continued through the brush, the strider nudging her in the direction of what it had found.

Water.

The small spring bubbled forth from the side of the mountain, small bushes and rocks lining the edge of the small pool. Pulling the damaged skin from her side, she tossed it to the ground, stumbling towards the spring, her mount close in tow.

A faint snicker sounded from the shadows, unnoticed by even the Hawkstrider.

It ruffled its blue-green feathers, positioning itself to lean down and gulp the water, careful not to get its tired feet wet. Having drunk its fill, it flicked some of the water towards the warrior with its beak, turning to bite at the saddle on its back with an annoyed squawk.

“No…we have to keep going after this, you may have found water, but this is not time to get all snippety at me!” The warrior grumbled to her mount, the large bird offering her a few more annoyed squawks.

Finally deciding the saddle wasn’t coming off anytime soon, it turned its attention to its wings, pulling and picking at the feathers before giving a contented squawk, and tucking it’s head under its colorful wing.

“NO! This isn’t any time to be falling –asleep- Damnit!” her words went unacknowledged by the strider, who merely lifted its head to turn its back to her, and stuff its head back under its wing to sleep.

Grumbling to herself, she bent down at the edge of the pool, tossing her grimy plate gloves aside, and inspecting her hands. Finding them clean enough she cupped them, holding them under the water and lifting them to drink, oblivious to whatever went on around her, only focusing on the feel of the cool water…
And the blow came from behind, the watery pool coming up swiftly to meet her face the last thing she saw, the panicked squawk of her strider the last thing she heard before the world went black.

The strider squawked angrily at the limp form of its rider on the ground, the contents of her bags strewn around her, her blonde hair muddy. The empty bottle smashed on the rocks near the strider, the animal panicking at the sound and turning to run through the bush, back the way they came.

Drops of what was left of the potion remained on Lyrilia’s lips, her journal having been pulled from her bags, now rested on her chest, her breathing shallow.

And it waited in the shadows once more, mumbling something into a stone.

((2/3))

“Alarius! Have you sent for Taye yet?”

“Yes, he’s on his way, CALITHARA! Get down from there!”

“Quelisa? Quelisa?! What do you think of this flower arrangement?”

“Move her other hand on top, have you seen the stone?”

“WHERE IS SHE? Did she..? MOVE! OUT OF MY WAY!”

“Taye dear, please, calm down. Alarius? Can you get it from downstairs for Quelisa?”

“No Vora! Calithara’s trying to climb-“

“Can’t you bring her with you? It’ll get her away from here.”

“LET ME THROUGH!”

“Come on now, it’s no use getting all upset over. Just sit.”

“JUST SIT?”

“Where is the damned stone? Alarius?”

“He’s gone down with- Calithara dear you can’t come in just yet.”

“Why not mum? I want to see...”

“Yeah well so do I but apparently she isn’t LETTING ANYONE IN!”

“SHUT UP TAYE!”

“Here you go Vora, your damned stone!”

“It’s not –mine-“

“QUIET! “

The small room fell silent, the rogue and mage still standing in front of the slightly opened door, careful not to allow the others out in the hall to see just what was inside.

“Thank you. Now. Taye, Alarius, and Calithara will all go downstairs and have something to drink until Vora and I are done here. Then, they may come up, and see. I shall then go down to the conference room with Vora and Alarius, and Taye, you will be looking after Calithara. No. You will leave and Calithara will go up to her room.”

The door to the small room clicked shut behind the mage, the lock sliding shut soon after, leaving the others to trudge slowly downstairs, the women locked in the room with whatever they were hiding.

Her skin was pale against the rich crimson fabric of the gown she wore. Bits of white lace and gold embroidery adorned the dress, her lips painted a bright red to match. Her usual small ruby earrings had been replaced with much larger, heavier ones, a large ruby pendant on a thick gold chain hung around her neck alongside the far more delicate chain of her key necklace. The key to her journal.

The bed she lay on had been made with fresh, white linens, small packets of scented herbs hidden between the numerous white pillows. A few scented candles had been lit around the room, the thick drapes drawn across the windows.

Her journal lay beside her on the bed, the worst of the mud having been wiped off, the gold gleaming in the light of the candles. A fresh bouquet of white flowers rested under her hands, which had been positioned to rest just above her stomach, the various types of flowers giving off a heady scent.

The bedside table to her right held an abundance of scented oil bottles, a few clear potion bottles hid between them had been filled with an odd, blue liquid. Three of them were empty, only a few small drops coated the bottom of the bottle, and a crystal glass stained with red lipstick.

A few more strokes of brushes left her pale face nearly perfect, the two women having layered powder on her skin to conceal scars, and add a bit of colour to the dead body.

Dead. The woman in the red gown was dead.

The had added powder to every bit of exposed skin, covering a small scar here, an imperfection there, and the dead woman’s blonde hair had been fussed with to a gleaming gold, let down around her shoulders in her usual style.

And then the women left with a click of the door, the golden name on the red leather journal flickering in the candlelight.

Lyrilia Dawnblade.


((I said 2/3 earlier..so this whole clump I will be posting shall be 3/3))

The door was thrown wildly open, slamming against the wall, the brown haired man who had stepped in quickly sinking to the floor, gripping the arm of the nearest chair, his green eyes wide open with shock.

“Let...let me alone awhile.”

The door clicked softly shut with a shuffling of feet as they left the room, leaving him be as he wished.

The man rose slowly to his, feet, shaking slightly with each step, his eyes wandering her pale face, made even paler by the bright red of her clothing. His hand gripped the fabric of the bed as he sank to his knees again, burying his face in her hair.

“Lyrilia….what have they done to you? Your…..your wretched family….they did this to you, didn't they?” His voice was strangled, hurt, his hand coming up to rest on her cheek. “And you haven’t been dead long…have you….they didn't even try to save you, did they? You’re still fairly warm….”

A tear rolled down his cheek, his hand leaving her face to brush another away. The door clicked open, the rogue leaning in to speak to him, a tendril of black hair falling across her face.

“Taye, We need you to leave…we have to bring Calithara in now….”

He didn't move from his spot on the floor, blatantly ignoring the woman speaking to him as he stared at the dead woman in front of him, his hand having found her cheek again.

“Taye. You can come back later. All we ask is that you leave for a few minutes to give Calithara some time herself. Then you can have all the time you want until we move her.” She stepped into the room, moving to rest a hand on his shoulder. The man shook it off roughly, rising to his feet and jabbing a finger at the rogue.

“YOU DID THIS TO HER! You…you and Quelisa! She wouldn't be –DEAD- if it wasn't for you two! You and your schemes, your lies! I don’t wish to be in your LIGHT-FORSAKEN HOUSE ANY LONGER!” He pushed his way out of the room, storming angrily down the hall. A few moments later the front doors slammed shut, leaving Vora in a dazed silence.

“If only I could tell him…..CALITHARA! It’s your turn dear.”
The young girl stepped into the room to stand next to her mother, the bounce in her step disappearing almost immediately.

“Aunt…..Auntie? Auntie wake up!” She gripped the arm of the dead woman, shaking it vigorously. “Auntie Lyri wake up! This isn’t funny!”

“Calithara…”

“No! She’s just sleeping…we play this game all the time mum.” She moved her small hands to the woman’s shoulder, shaking them. “COME ON! Wake up already…it’s not even night time…mum maybe if we open the curtains…maybe she might…”

“Calithara sweetie, she’s gone…” The rogue’s voice cracked as her daughter’s face fell, tears streaking the young girl’s rosy cheeks.

“Really?”

“…….Really.” She pulled the young girl into her arms, carrying her out of the room.

“Bye Auntie…”

The conference room doors slammed shut behind the rogue, her arms crossed and a grim expression on her face.

“I refuse to do this anymore Quelisa. Not after what I had to go through with Calithara today. I’m sure Alarius will agree.” She tossed Lyrilia’s guildstone to the table with a loud clatter, her Husband’s chair scraped just as loudly as he rose to leave.

“But you can’t…the both of you just can’t…”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to do this yourself, Quelisa. Good Night.” The doors shut loudly behind them, leaving the Mage with the stone, a few sheets of blank parchment, her quill and a crystal bottle of ink.

The letter had been written with a shocking blue ink, the Mage’s handwriting neat and fluid, and the parchment crisp and clean.

Alenthis,

I shall be quite to the point with you here, and I strongly suggest you read past my initial message, and the purpose of this letter.

I have written this letter to inform you of the death of my cousin, Lyrilia Dawnblade.

Lyrilia spoke quite a lot about you to us, and I have heard some…interesting things about you from others. I thought that writing a letter to someone who was so dear to my cousin was only appropriate, as I have also written letters to Taye and Salethorian, I’m sure you know who they are.

Lyrilia was found in the Jade Forest, and after reading her journal and taking a look at the map she had brought along with her, I have come to the conclusion she was headed for Domination Point, to ‘rescue’ you. We did notice her speak far too much of what you’ve gotten yourself into over the past little while. She did seem quite worried.

I have sent her journal with this letter, as I believe there are some interesting things in there you may wish to read.

Sincerely,
Quelisa Dawnblade, on behalf of Alarius Dawnblade.


The Mage folded the letter neatly, slipping it into an equally immaculate envelope, and sealing it with a blot of crimson wax. Pulling a strip of parchment she had cut, she scrawled something on it in the same blue ink;

Alenthis.

I thought these last four, and those two on the loose paper would be of most relevance to the situation, but I insist you search deeper into the back of the book as well.

All those unused pages aren’t so unused.

She slipped it into the open journal, the last four entries Lyrilia had written in the actual journal behind it, along with the two written on loose sheets.

If one were to flip to the very back of the journal, they might find something more.

The very last page of the journal held numerous half-finished sketches of the Alenthis; the largest one dead center on the page was one of both Lyrilia and Alenthis sitting under a tree, a picnic resting on the ground between them. It was her tree, the one she brought him to.

On the back of the page of drawings, the warrior had written something in her elegant script, and usual black ink:

There’s only one reason why I’m doing this

Why I’d do this for anyone, not just him.

Why I’m trudging across this damned new continent, stumbling through this light-forsaken forest in search of someone, who probably wouldn’t want to see me. Not after what I said to him.
I still love him, and I hate myself for what I said to him.

Azurick was right. All those bad things he said about me, were right.

The mage slammed the book shut, making sure the bookmark stuck out just enough for the word ‘Alenthis’ to be visible, tucking it into a small box with the letter on top, the golden key necklace following suit.

With the box packed, and Alenthis’ name scrawled on top, she handed it off to one of the servants, giving him simple directions to delivery, and how it must be delivered swiftly.

Then she settled into her chair, a cat-like grin on her face.

My search... still I have nothing. No clues, hints, traces... I dont have anyone to go to for them either.... except....

That one woman who told me that Tislina was my lover in life... she might know something to help me. Or maybe, since she is a mage, one of the mage teachers, that could have sent her somewhere.

Oh yes, and one more thing I feel the need to write, I am getting tiny shreds of memory back. Places, names, and... a red dragonhawk hatchling, for some reason.

I wish that I could just find her. But... what will she do when we meet, or if we do?

Will we be lovers again? I dont know...

Kel'tira Sunblaze

(Tears stain the page)

Light be praised... Light be blessed... He's alive!

I do not know what was done to him, all I know... he is sleeping. And I will not leave his side until he wakes. I will not leave him. I almost lost him once, and I cannot stand that again.

Light guard him.

The woman with the brown hair stepped into the inn, a small out of the way establishment that saw little traffic other than a few local farmers. She tossed her leather gloves on the table and nodded to the innkeeper to bring her food and water. Settling into the chair, she turned her attention to the fire burning brightly in the hearth. The crackling fire casting merry shadows about the floor as the blood elf contemplated her life.

Memories stirred within her… shallow ones of her days before her husband came into her life. Memories of being alone, sitting in a chair at an inn sipping a drink and listening to the fire pop and crackle. There was surprising comfort in those memories, they brought back a time that she felt useful and felt that she actually mattered in the world.

What she had accomplished tonight had felt good, even if the situation was dire. She felt useful again… she felt alive. In the past few months she had forgotten what those things felt like. She had felt useless, restless… dead. Her world, which had once been wide open was now narrow and closed.

But there had been a price to pay for freedom, she reminded herself: loneliness. She had a small circle of friends when she found the Fellowship, but she was very much alone in the world. She had come to the Fellowship with the hope that she would be able ease that loneliness but it had taken some time. Part of that was her own fault—she was shy around new people—and making friends had been hard.

Until the morning she ran into Kel and needing someone to keep her things and know that she would be out of contact for some time, struck up a friendship that had weathered so many storms. Now she was torn between her friendship with Kel and her husband, who could no longer abide by the woman. At one time, he had called Kel his best friend; now, he didn’t even want to hear her name.

And she was caught in the middle.

A shadow fell over her table and she nodded her thanks to the innkeeper as he set a tray at her table with a soft clunk. Reaching out she picked up the mug of water, lifting it to her lips as she smiled at the single flower in an ugly vase that adorned her tray.

She had once seen herself like that… an ugly vase. She had been carefully cultivated by her trainers to become so inconspicuous, so easy to overlook in a crowd, that she had overlooked herself. It wasn’t until she had been sent out to gather information on a weapons deal that she realized that she could be more than just the forgettable woman with the brown hair. Part of her still held a piece of that night close; it had been a time where she had been the center of attention, she had commanded heads to turn, where she had been the desired one. The one who had proven to be unforgettable, but it had almost cost her dearly.

… and part of her wondered what her life would have been like if she had stayed.

Despite that, she had taken more care with her appearance, refusing to fall back into the ranks of the overlooked.

Her thoughts turned back to the Fellowship. So many people in the Fellowship had come and gone. Some left of their own accord, varying between apologetic and remaining friends; others had faded back into their old lives, forgetting that the Fellowship ever existed. A look of sadness passed over her features as she remembered those who had died… and the few people who were left behind, still believing in the vision that had been created.

She picked up the spoon and stirred the soup that had been brought. Long, curling noodles and pieces of shrimp churned within the bowl and she lifted a spoonful to her lips, thinking about her return home and how eager she had been to see her husband. She entered the house only to find it empty. Her husband was not there and she wondered where he was. Tonight would have been a good night to sit with him, talk to him, and not dwell on those memories alone. Not wanting to stay in the empty house by herself, she opted for the small comfort of having people around her and sought out an inn.

She looked down at her bag that was sitting by her chair. The flap was open and she could see her journal. She reached out and picked up the book, running her hands over the etched leather cover before setting it beside her. She would deal with the journal later, she decided. She knew that she would not be sleeping anytime soon, so tonight she would dwell on the ghosts of the past year that haunted her. She would try to take broken pieces of melancholy that whispered in her mind and turn it into something meaningful.

The royal purple cover of the journal has been creased back, the binding soft and broken now. The woman who holds the journal on her lap looks out at the sleeping form of a man in one of the two beds in the place. She sits on a cushioned couch set into an alcove in the one-room building. She has a lantern set on the wooden shelf beside her, staring at the journal she turns over and over in her hands, her eyes, though, are distant, and she has clearly not slept all night. The fire in the hearth has burned low, and her eyes glance up at the man in the bed, taking in his bruises, the cuts and scraps, and anger burns in her gaze, protective love stirred to a height by seeing her lover in that condition.

Her hands shake as she opens the journal, wetting her quill in emerald ink, her handwriting careful, she begins to write.

I have no idea what I would have done had Auxi not found him... or had she found him dead. My heart would have been broken again. It would have killed me. It would have torn me apart.

She rises slowly, moves across the room, lamp in tow, and sets the light on the shelf above the occupied bed, shading the glare from Cyaer's face, her hands sparkling with a white-gold gleam, gently touching his torso, wrists, and ankles, pouring another measure of healing power into him, erasing some of the cuts and rope burns and bruises.

He said 'she.' I have no idea what she did to him, well, I have some inkling I pray is wrong. She has hurt him, my Cy, my lover, and Light bear witness, I will kill her if she ever has the misfortune to cross my path. I hate seeing him like this, I feel helpless, watching him sleep.

The glow has faded from her hands while she writes, and she sighs heavily, touching his cheek, tears tracing down her face as she brushes his hair out of his face, her eyes gentle, fiercely protective, and loving. Her hands are gentle, but they shake, betraying her fear, her anger, and her worry.

If she-- I will kill her. I know, though, that if she touched him, he will need time to recover. Time to realize I am not her. Time alone. Time to gather his thoughts.

I know that there is a line I have to draw between alone and isolated. I know what it is like, recovering from something like that. As I sit here watching him, as I saw his wounds, I am losing hope that it was simply a beating. I know what those wounds look like, and these look like something entirely different.

It is hard. Hard to move on. I know that. He knows that I know that. The trick is learning to live with that fear. That hurt. Learning to control it.

Light give him strength.

She closes the book softly, shading the lamp the rest of the way, so that the slivers of light that escape leave bars across her face, and the moonlight streams through the windows, throwing her features into a sharp relief, the silver light seeming to pool on the sleeping form.

Her voice is soft, when she speaks, "Mu'sha..."

Kel trails off, bowing her head reverently, her faith clearly having some impact on what may be a coincidence, "White Lady guard us."

When the larger of two moons is hidden by cloud, and the shimmering light fades into darkness once more, Kel's smile is concealed again. She does not sleep that night, rather she sits with him, Cyaer, watching, occasionally pouring another dose of holy magic into his form.

Alenthis Bloodreaver lay, asleep at the barracks at Domination point. he had earned a well needed rest from the battle. His dark dreams were of Lyrilia and her kiss. They haunted him. For she was no longer his to kiss.

The colorful magic carpet carried Azurick into Domination point as if on a feather. It alighted on the ground and Azurick stepped off. He folded the carpet up and stuffed it into a pocket. He approached the commander and flashed a Silvermoon notice. "I'm here to collect my brother. He has official business with the Regent-Lord." He was really hoping the orc would buy the forged letter and show him to Alenthis.

"Looks right. He's just inside the barracks. A package arrived for him an hour ago or so. Check with the goblin inside." Azurick nodded and thanked the orc. He headed inside, stopping at the goblin and collecting the package for Alen. He spotted his brother asleep in the room so he took a seat on a bench. No use in waking him.

Azurick fiddled with the box for a moment and opened it. He read through the letter, his face becoming more and more serious as he read. He finished the letter and frowned. He read it again. And again. Azurick stuffed the letter back into the package. He tore across the barracks and pulled Alenthis to his feet. He led his groggy brother down and out of the barracks. They both hopped onto his carpet and set a course north. Booty Bay.

Azurick wordlessly handed the package to Alen and sat, waiting. Alen read it, his eyes widening in shock and fear and pain all at once. "No...no."

Azurick looked shocked. "She was looking...for you..." He frowned.

Alenthis glared at the package and then up at the sky. "Whhhhhyyyyyyy?!"

Sixteen hours later: Alenthis sat silently beside Azurick inside of his silvermoon apartment. They both eyed the wall across from them. Azurick piped up, "She included an address, didn't she? You need to go see her. The body..." Alenthis nodded silently, but didn't speak.

"She's dead, Azurick...because of me." Alenthis Bloodreaver wept. And his brother soon joined him

The exhaustion had taken its toll on his stamina, and he found himself in a deep sleep, a healing sleep...well for his physical form at least.

His mind kept playing the past few days and nights over and over again. He could not remember where his confidence had cracked and fallen to pieces, he only knew she had taken something away from him, something...that was his persona. And he crawled into a dark corner of his mind and wept. He hurt and he wasn't sure he could or would pull himself out of it.

He remembered Auxilia coming and rescuing him before Viragona's people could get there. He remembered the tears of relief he shed seeing her, and hearing her voice. He remembered he left Viragona a gift...left the way he had been, bound and naked. He could only imagine how she would feel when she awoke. He didn't get any satisfaction from that thought.

Cyaer didn't remember too much after that, until he saw her silhoutte in the doorway, and his heart came into his throat...Kel, his Kel'tira was there, and he wanted to reach out to her, to tell her so many things, but his voice was silenced by emotions overcoming him. He had thought he would never see her again, to hold her, to...

Perhaps if he had some food, something to strengthen him, he would have done better, but as he climbed the steps, he faltered, and tried again. And his legs gave out on him, he was too exhausted, and allowed his love to carry him the rest of the way...he was too weak, and it resounded throughout his memory, throughout his thoughts, and into his dreams as he slept.

Cyaer is dreaming, deeply -

His own voice intoned, "You'are not worthy of Kel'tira's love. You are weak. You were tested and found lacking...she doesn't deserve you."

The voice of his captor sneered, "You were an easy mark, Cyaer, lax in watching, and you got caught. You enjoyed our time together, admit it to yourself...you enjoyed it."

"Not worthy...weak...lacking...easy...lax...caught...", over and over he heard it until a quiet voice interupted the cacophony of negative reinforcement...

"I need you, Cyaer. I love you, Cyaer. You have a special place in my heart, Cyaer." Over and over he heard her whisper to him...and the others fell silent as he listened to his love, Kel'tira, tell him what he meant to her...and finally he was able to sleep, truly sleep, and rest his mind and his heart.

And throughout his sleep he thought of Kel'tira, and there were good dreams.